My friend Lynn Lamousin, a dry wit if ever there was one, announced this week that she has released her 2005 film-noir sock-puppet comedy “The Lady from Sockholm” on DVD. Playing in dozens of film festivals around the United States and around the world, “Lady from Sockholm” is a delight for kids and grownups alike and has been recognized as the world’s first and only feature film entirely starring sock puppets. If you’re interested in buying a copy, the DVD’s are Now On-Sale through a subsidiary of Amazon.com, you’ll be darned happy you bought this yarn!! If you’d like, I could probably even get her to sign your copy. Just let me know!

I sacrificed attending the general release opening of Disney’s “Pirates of the Caribbean 2 : Dead Man’s Chest” to support an art opening in Decatur, which might seem unbelievable if you’ve ever been accosted by my alter-ego Cap’n Drew, a solid fan of all things piratic. Last night I dragged said alter-ego out to see the film and have to say that we were generally pleased (in the royal sense) with the picture, swashing four buckles out of five. Being both a sequel, the middle act of a trilogy and a star-studded summer blockbuster, ‘Dead Man’s Chest’ was fated to be jammed underneath the lens of “entertainment journalists” who immediately began grousing about the movie being nothing more than a sack full of exposition and needless action; a mere setup for the third and final movie “At World’s End”. I only have one question: “Did any of you guys see “The Empire Strikes Back”?.
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I zipped out to catch the opening of this film tonight and I’m glad that I did because now I don’t have to ignore any of the press about the movie. Unfortunately, I don’t expect there to be a lot of press for this film because it really wasn’t all that good. Or bad. Well no, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was rather well made and lovingly handled- it just wasn’t great; it didn’t have a lot of topography.
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Tax season unavoidably casts its wicked light into the darkened corners of my fiscal world, stirring a strange feral hatred of paperwork and an even stranger desire to sit in the living room surrounded by mounds of folders, picking through the remains of the past year, trying to assess my successes and failures. Pasting up a year’s worth of receipts, feature film petty cash style, is a daunting task. Actually figuring out what some of those receipts are is even harder.
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