johnny depp?

Oh, I do love him so much, I can’t tell you, but …. Johnny Depp as Sweeney Todd?
The musical Sweeney Todd? I could see him, actually, as the character; he’s got the brooding and the pathos and the sardonic air, but can he sing?? Sweeney’s gotta be able to SAHHNG, man. Rabid fans of the musical, like me, won’t accept anything less. I really like the idea of him as Sweeney — if it weren’t for the singing. Maybe he’ll blow me away, though. I hope so.

Also in the cast:

Mrs. Lovett: Helena Bonham Carter

Sigh.
This one actually bothers me more than Depp, mainly because, well, I flat-out don’t like her. Her powdery boneface. Her spade-like chin. Her eerie, bottomless eyes. Oh, and also the wee fact of her stealing Kenneth Brannagh from my beloved Emma Thompson. Do not hurt Emma, chippy, and expect me to still like you. And can your husband — (er, boyfriend??) — Tim Burton do a freakin’ movie without you, please? I know this Sweeney is still “in development” — I mean, last I heard Russell Crowe was going to play Sweeney — but if you really do play Mrs. Lovett, I will relish what happens to you in the end.

Signor Pirelli: Sacha Baron Cohen

Don’t know anything about his singing ability, but just on pure physicality, I think he’s great for it.

Judge Turpin: Alan Rickman

Ooooh! I love him; he’s one of my all-time favorites. Love this casting. Don’t care if he can’t sing. LOVE it. I will even sit through “Johanna (Mea Culpa)” — a song that literally makes me squirm, what with the self-flagellation and all — if he’s the one doing it. I don’t care if he just speaks it. That face. That voice. He’s perfect.

So, come ON, Tim Burton! Hurry up and make the movie already so that I can be the only person in America who goes to see it.

(By the way, Tim Burton, I think Emma Thompson would make a fabulous Mrs. Lovett. Don’t know if she can sing, either, but I just prefer a Mrs. Lovett who seems more substantial, more full, more of a woman; not some spindly-sharp little boy. You’re clearly being hypnotized by the biggest things on that Bonham Carter chippy — those bottomless bog black eyes.)

super bowl note to

The Super Bowl:

I’m bitter this year; it’s true. But if you could please ship me the hapless muddy dog from the Budweiser beer commercial, I’m sure he would help release the bile and soothe my sad furrowed football brow.

Love,

Me

super bowl note to

Me:

You must be some kind of sick sick racist. I mean, that movie “Pride” with Terrence Howard crying about his inspirational black swim team might be really good. Stop laughing at the commercial. STOP it! You like Terrence Howard. You like swimming. What is your damn problem?

Love,

Me

super bowl note to

Whoever’s in charge of this:

WHERE is my favorite ref — the only ref worth a damn — my MAN, Ed (*Rocky) Hochuli? I mean, you coulda had Hochuli trotting about on the Super Bowl field with his snappy ass and firmly-packed biceps and commanding presence and you don’t do it?

C’mon. Throw the girls a bone.

Love,

Me


*Just a little nickname I gave him because, uhm, I love him
.

ed-hochuli-3.jpg

super bowl note to

Billy Joel:

Please do not sing the National Anthem ever again. Only sing the National Anthem if the National Anthem suddenly becomes “The Stranger” or “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant.”

I need to still love you. Don’t make it so hard.

Love,

Me