As you know, each year on Christmas Eve we post a Better Living Through Bad Movies-style review of some cloying holiday dreck, a tradition which stretches back to 2006, when the Crapper commentariat rose up and spoke with one voice, demanding we poke fun at It's A Wonderful Life.  Fortunately, bad Christmas movies are America's most abundant renewable resource, right behind crappy horror films; and with that in mind, this year I'd like to branch out -- with black, bare, finger-like branches etched in sharp relief against a slate-gray sky -- and extend the custom to Samhain.

So if there's one particular horror film/monster movie/creature feature that bored, irritated, or inappropriately titillated you, leave the title in comments.  I'll pick one, post the results on Halloween, and we can all enjoy it together (well, hopefully you'll enjoy it. I'll probably be bitter, semi-recumbent, and boozing it up).

So put on your stingy-brim fedora and your herringbone sport coat -- the one with the Paul Drake Effect -- and vote until ambiguous horizontal lines radiate from your skull.

Novelist and Friend of Wo'C Debbi Mack is taking a bold step into the New Future of Old Media, shifting paradigms and geisting zeits at will, and all while dealing with crabs (or so I assume; I mean, she lives in Maryland, and the one time I visited Chesapeake Bay the locals seemed primarily interested in shoving soft shell crustaceans down my throat).

Anyway, Debbi is the author of the Sam McRae books, a fun series of twisty and suspenseful murder mysteries about a Baltimore attorney who is sort of the female Perry Mason, except she has more sex than Perry did, and likes to get on top occasionally.  She even has her own version of Paul Drake, so if you ever wanted to see Raymond Burr and William Hopper doff those somber suits and loud houndstooth sport coats and get down to some serious flirting, this is the series for you.  Unless you're Della Street, in which case you'll probably just wind up going home alone to eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's Lusty Lawyer Lingonberry and watch Body of Evidence with your cat.

I've been meaning to write reviews of the first two books (I'm still hoarding the most recent volume as a hedge against a boredom emergency, such as Jury Duty, or the flu), but suffice it to say that I'm a fan of the series, and I'm not alone:

In 2011, the first Sam McRae novel, Identity Crisis, made the New York Times ebook bestseller list. That book and the sequel, Least Wanted both became Kindle Top 100 bestsellers. Both novels also went on to reach the Top 100 on Amazon UK, with Least Wanted hitting the Top 10 and reaching at least as high as #6 on the charts.

Debbi has launched a kind of Kickstarter-ish campaign to publish hard copies of the McRae e-books under her own imprint, and to fund the next volume, and I'm hoping her efforts are a big success -- not just because I look forward to the series continuing, but because this is something Sheri and I are considering for the sequel to Better Living Through Bad Movies.

So click here to find out more about Debbi's books, and her scheme for world domination.

Bonus Weekend Caption Contest!
Jobless Grim Reapers, who claim they were fired after voting for Obama, wait for their numbers to be called at the local unemployment office.  "It was worth it," said one.  "The economy is my number one issue, and Obama promised Death panels!  Finally, a jobs program for the working stiff!"  However, a spokesman for their former employer, the Angel of Death, denied the assertion, stating that the three were discharged for "abusing their paid holidays and playing chess during working hours."

Drop yours in the comments.  And here's hoping you have Monday off.

UPDATE: You guys are cheering me the hell up with your high quality captionry, and I really appreciate it. Thank you.

On another happy note, Cat Rescue Operative Emily posted in the comments to this post that Adele, the beautiful feline featured in the video, has left the halfway house for a new home: "Adele was adopted on Saturday! She was featured in an ad in the Oregonian and was adopted that day. Huzzah!"

I usually frown on the use of "Huzzah!" outside the context of a Renaissance Faire, but in this case it seems appropriate. Kudos to Emily and her colleagues at the Cat Adoption Team.
My apologies for the dead air, but I do have an excuse -- I'm bumping up against a deadline on a modest, but paying assignment (so in other words, I have an excuse I stole from Jonah Goldberg).  On the bright side, this should be (and really, really needs to be) finished by late tomorrow afternoon, so normal blogging will resume this weekend.

In the meantime, I'm hoping you'll allow me to crowd source the entertainment around here, by leveraging the legendary Wit O' the WO'C readership with a caption contest.  I'll get things rolling...

Flash-mob that sucker!

Sorry about the interregnum, but I was working hard and fast on a pitch for a project I would dearly love to get, and which left me without even the minimal surplus brain power required to read Jonah Goldberg or Dr. Professor Mike Adams.  However, since submitting the produce of my labor, and going into the indeterminate waiting period for a response, I have remained busy, whipping up a frothy, but non-Santorum mixture of stomach acid and general angst.  But I'll have a new post later this evening.


In the meantime, I heard today that Sean Maher of Firefly and The Playboy Club has come out of the closet, and my first thought was, I sort of hope his friends and colleagues are good at faking polite astonishment -- you know, the kind you're called upon to counterfeit when it's your birthday, and your co-workers suddenly call you into the conference room at a strangely late hour of the day to attend a spontaneous but urgent meeting with a suspiciously vague agenda and you're supposed to be surprised by the paper plates and plastic forks and the Carvel "Cookiepuss" ice cream cake emblazoned with your name, melting on the conference table.

In other words, a happy event, but as far as twist endings go, this didn't exactly feel like the climax of The Crying Game (which used a literary device I like to call "The deus ex Pup 'n' Taco"-- in honor of a 1970s Southern California fast food chain -- because the diner, metaphorically speaking, came in expecting Taco, but was flummoxed to find Pup on the menu).
So despite the absence of what magicians call "a good reveal," we would still like to send out our best wishes to Sean, whose work we have always admired, his partner, and their two children.

Now, in that same spirit of keepin' it real, here's another found object entry for our caption contest.

Joey:  S'matter, babe?

Kay:  Oh, nothing.  But when Arlene told me about the double date, I just assumed it would be, you know...mixed doubles.

Click to embiggen and share your insights into how a quick application of "reparative therapy" could make this the greatest night of their young lives!

[Quick aside:  As mentioned in my previous post, this week I contributed a scholarly monograph to the Cahiers du Cinéma-like site She Blogged By Night.  The subject of my critique is the 1983 film, Yor, the Hunter From the Future, a bleak but visionary study of a post-apocalyptic society, in which the survivors of a global disaster struggle to maintain the remnants of civilization, while a mostly-nude beefy guy prances around smacking paper mache puppets with an axe.  Please click here to give it your thoughtful and considered opinion.]
The ballots are in.  The contestants have donned their evening gowns and their most purse-lipped smiles and passed in review, and you the judges have made your decision.  Tonight we are here to crown the winner of this years Beauty Is In The Beer Goggles of The Beholder Pageant.

Just to recap, the contestants are the Official Headshots of the NRO Fund-Raising Cruise Speakers.  The photos themselves are a diverse bunch -- some boast that professional sheen typical of those Glamour Shot establishments in the shabbier end of the mall, usually wedged between the Orange Julius and the Dress Barn.  Others have an oddly candid feel, as though they fell out of one of those photocopied letters people mail their relatives around Christmas, along with photos of the dog, that trip to the Chain of Lakes, and a fuzzy one of the kids playing Guitar Hero in the bonus room.  While still others make Awkward Family Photos look like a Helmut Newton portfolio.

In short, the Speakers offered up photos of themselves that demonstrated either a complete lack of vanity, or a complete lack of self-awareness, but in neither case did they seem like the sort of thing  calculated to make even a diehard Corner fan reach for his debit card.  Or as D.Sidhe marveled in comments:

There are people who would voluntarily get on a boat with people who chose these pictures to represent themselves? I'm so bothered by that. I know the point's been made before, but the buffet would only have to run out of shrimp cocktail for ten minutes before these guys were deciding which of the paying customers to eat first.

Still, maybe these photos had a subtle charm not evident upon first exposure, for as the competition ground on, from semi-finals to finals, she seemed to find herself warming to the Contestants:

I will concede that they are probably not the worst people to end up on a boat. Some of them may in fact be capable of actual kindnesses towards their fellow human beings, John Yoo might, for example, offer a choice of waterboarding *or* stress position on an indefinite detainee's birthday, and Ralph Reed may not actually use a hammer to beat to death swans born out of wedlock. Lileks, you might even imagine, could allow a runaway chained in the basement to keep her real name, even after several years.

And, okay, maybe I was hasty about demanding they each be fitted into a suitcase and left there so I could pick a winner, and despite my earlier comment it seems unfair to assume they'd start ranking the other passengers by likely degree of marbling before the buffet was out of shrimp cocktails (I think they'd probably wait until the Swedish meatballs were gone as well). 

I fully expect some of the above encomiums to wind up as pull quotes in the next issue of National Review.

Now, on to the winning Losers.

Second Runner-Up is a tie between Mark Steyn and Roman Genn:
Above, we see Steyn delivering what R. Porrofatto called "his smoldering 'I want to fuck me, too' look," while Tina was moved to declare it: "Hands down the most 'Shouldn't I be on the cover of GQ?' pose I've ever seen from someone not on the cover of GQ."

Genn sizzled in the semi-finals, handily winning the "Last Known Photograph" Division.  As Stacia said, "[I]s there anyone amongst us strong enough to not vote for Roman Genn? I think not. Roman looks like he OWNS the Monte Carlo his own body will eventually be found in."

Nigel Tufnel said, "That's not Roman Genn. That's funnyman Bobby Bitman (real name: Herschel Slansky) about to appear on the Sammy Maudlin Show."  Which, while somewhat ambiguous, I still counted as a vote.  FrJohn complimented Genn, noting that his "oddly asymmetrical eyes go well with his Jacqueline Susann hairdo," while Doghouse Riley wondered, "is that Genn's Assistant Maître-D photo? Somebody posed him in front of the men's room dividing wall?"

melior looked beneath the unflatteringly reflective surface of the image, and saw the Man Within: "I suspect his true calling to excellence would be in Most Extraordinary Nose-Hair Moustache if he put in the extensive prep time required."  Finally, R. Porrofatto pinpointed the source of the Contestant's appeal, which he eloquently summed up as "Roman Genn's Transylvanian waiter affect."

Between the Hobbity Steyn, and the Darth Vadery hair helmet of Roman Genn, this may indeed, as AnnPW predicted, "turn out to be The Year Of The Hair."

First Runner-Up was also a tie, between James Lileks and John Yoo, a mano a mano battle between Banality and Evil.
77south felt that Yoo's resume made him a cinch for the crown:  "All of the other of this creepy horror show have made their living glorifying evil, but John Yoo lived it!...Choosing anyone else would be live nominating a Rolling Stone reporter for a Grammy instead of the rock star that earned it." But Brian Schlosser felt Yoo's impressive record of real world achievement is actually his Achille's Heel:  "Yoo is the only one to be an actual architect of malice. But I think that actually puts him out of the running for this contest, on the grounds that he's too big a fish. I'd gladly vote for him in the 'Miss International Tribunal at the Hague' though."

Bidziliba ticked off Yoo's many virtues ("the cultural sensitivity of Michelle Malkin coupled with the discreet humanitarianism of Reinhard Heydrich"), but most voters seemed to agree with Korda when he said "the fact that he actually enabled Evil, as opposed to merely advocating it, puts him out of the running in a contest as good-natured as this one," since Yoo faded badly in the Finals.
As you'll recall, the task before the Judges was a simple one:  imagine that the NRO cruise ship is the RMS Titanic, and decide which Speaker (based on his or her headshot) you would most like to see re-enact Leonardo DiCaprio's final scene.  In most cases, readers had no difficulty making a snap judgment, but Lileks aroused an unusual degree of ambiguity -- or at least a bit of nostalgia for his particular brand of nostalgia.

Brian allowed that Lileks "shares my fascination and love of the defunct and ephemeral, although I think he likes them for different reasons," while Chris Vosburg opined:

Sadly, Lileks, who was up till then a normal enough fella, was one of the sad souls who went a little crazy in the aftermath of the WTC bombing. When he's not writing of politics, I still enjoy his columns. When he writes of politics, I avert my eyes, just like I do when I come across a man urinating on himself in the alley behind my apartment buiding, or when my nutty Aunt explains the efficacy of shark cartilage as a cancer cure."

There were also practical reasons to favor the diminutive matchbook hoarder.  "If we're heading into ice berg territory," remarked heydave, "I'd only feel safe with Lileks strapped to the prow, his forehead of dumbitude crashing our way through to safety.

But I think Stacia best summed up Lileks' qualifications, and why he -- a relative latecomer to the ranks of wingnut pundits -- annoys me more than contestants who have spent a lifetime being insufferable little bullshit flumes:

Yoo's crimes against humanity notwithstanding, I think the worst conservatives are the sneaky conservatives, which is why my vote goes to James Lileks. He's one of those semi-closeted celebrity conservatives like Michael J. Nelson, Scott Adams or Alton Brown, on one hand aware enough to know they would be loathed by most fellow humans if their political beliefs were to get significant press, yet egotistical enough to believe their popularity is in part due to their backwards worldview. Lileks sits on his webpage, poised like a Venus Flytrap baited with hipster humor and memories of the good old days, sure he will eventually convert lost liberals in dire need of his guidance.

But mainly it's because he looks like the creepy window-peeper gas station attendant character in every film noir from 1942 through 1949 inclusive.

Certainly can't argue with that last point!  So, in the event the Winner is unable to perform his duties, James Lileks will go to the Sears Family Portrait Studio and pose for some more passport photos that make him look like a sandblasted clown.

Now, the moment I'm sure we've all been waiting for...The coronation of Miss Wingnut, 2011!  And the clear favorite, by a landslide margin of 3 votes is...
The Pox from Fox.  The Mug who brings the Smug.  The man whom Erica Jong probably would have called "the Lipless Fuck" -- Cal Thomas.

In addition to the many other laurels Cal has earned during a seemingly never-ending career, he is also known throughout the Netherlands as...Well, let's let legacy Dutchman Chris Vosburg explain it:

You may recall that Cal Thomas went off on Dutch euthanasia laws in a column back in 2004, and didn't stop there: prostitution, drugs, immigration, you name it, everything about the Netherlands was wrong, wrong, wrong. As final insult, he finished his column with the observation "All of this in a country where the Nazis murdered Ann Frank just because she was Jewish and therefore less than human."

Denizens of the fierce little undersea kingdom promptly responded with a google bomb linking Cal Thomas inextricably to the search phrase ignorant asshole.

This was news to me (I am clearly not aware of all internet traditions), so thanks for bringing a bit of international flavor to the Pageant, Chris.

Brian also honored the spirit of the competition, while looking deep within his own soul for the answer:

So that leaves me to vote based on the most important criterion: "Who's picture makes me want to punch them in the mouth the hardest?"

Scripto introduced a personal angle into the deliberations ("He reminds me of my long hair grabbing prison guard dickhead great uncle. Only more wordy.") while Suezboo asked an important question which I don't believe Cal has ever adequately addressed before:  "Is that short for Callous Bastard?"

Well, it is now, Suezboo, and I'll be heading off to Cal's Wikipedia page immediately after the Pageant to share this little known fact with the rest of the world ("Thomas was named after his father, Callous Thomas II, and his mother, Amelia Bastard, of the Boston Bastards...").

Ultimately, though, when you get past all the glitz and the glamour, the kleig lights and ballyhoo, this contest is about one thing:  America.  And no one summed up what America means today better than Doghouse Riley:

I guess I just wasn't meant for a time when wingnuts like Lileks and Genn would come up through a sort of farm system, like Texas' Miss America Corporation, and employ high-priced hair stylists and fashion consultants. It's like watching a bike race where everybody's coked to the gills on human growth hormone, except in this case it doesn't make anyone faster, or stronger, or, god knows, better looking, just tone deaf enough to continue.

So, Cal Thomas, the last surviving artifact of an optimistic time when we could say, "If we can just hold out until Cal Thomas dies of ugliness and impacted mucus this shit'll be over." 

Personally, I'm still holding out for that iceberg.  Oh, I know the NRO Coin Cadging Cruise is scheduled to ply the pellucid waters of the Caribbean, but a fella can dream, can't he?  Besides, that didn't stop Christopher Lee in The Castle of Fu Manchu.

Thanks to our fine panel of judges, and congratulations to all the contestants.  Keep reachin' for the stars, and keep staring into the camera with the soulless, glassy gaze of an taxidermied beaver.

The semi-finals are over and the results have been tabulated.  Some categories were hard fought; Mark Steyn and Michael Walsh, for instance, were neck-and-neck throughout the voting in the Male Model division, with Steyn's "Blue Steel" barely edging out Walsh's "Le Tigre," while other contestants (Lileks, Yoo) were clear favorites, in that everybody hated them.

And now...Our Finalists:
In the Smug Shot division, Cal Thomas bested veteran blowhard Tony Blankely, while Jonah Goldberg, whose mother was unable to fix the results, came in a distant third.
Congratulations to Fred Dalton Thompson, who handily won the Sea Hag division (I've replaced Fred's NRO headshot with a more recent photo, just to keep our relationship fresh).
Mark Steyn, as we mentioned, pulled out a squeaker in the Aramis Man competition, and immediately parlayed his win into a lucrative endorsement contract.  For the next year he'll be the spokesmodel for Galt Brand Invisible Water, the bottled water so pure it might not even exist!  Thirsty?  Go Galt!
James Lileks walked away with the award for "Creepy, Close-Talking Night Manager of a Rural Motel Who Thinks Like Norman Bates and Talks Like Percy Kilbride."  Or did he ride away?  On a motorcycle -- with streamers flying from the handles, and training wheels squeaking?  Because this is how Jack Fowler of The Corner puts it:

No, that isn’t Brando. Close though. It’s James Lileks, one of America’s wittiest writers (and it turns out he’s darned witty when he talks, too)...You can find out more about this spectacular trip, and securely reserve your well-appointed, spacious, and affordable stateroom, at www.nrcruise.com.

He's not just witty.  He's not just darn witty.  He's affordably witty!
Dr. Charmaine Yoest is a worthy and credible champion for abstinence-only education, because she speaks from experience.  Once, during a particularly wild Halloween party in high school, she necked with a Dementor; one thing lead to another, and he sucked her soul out through her mouth, but that didn't stop Dr. Yoest from realizing her dream of working as a CPR demonstration doll in the Reagan White House.

I think commenter mellor summed it up best: ugh, I think my eyeballs have a Yoest infection.
Roman Genn overwhelmed his competitors in the category "Confused Men with Prodigious Hair and Clip-On Ties Who Insisted That Their Prom Pictures Be Taken at The Old Dutch Bakery."
John Yoo was the undisputed winner in the "Not Even The Best Antiperspirant Can Stop Your Pores From Secreting Evil" division, beating out experienced felon Elliot Abrams.  However, the judges have taken Doghouse Riley's recommendation and bestowed upon Abrams the coveted Jean Hersholt Inhumanitarian Award.
And finally, Ralph Reed absolutely slayed his competition in the "Dummy From The Dead of Night" division.  Ralph and his rictus thank you.

So there we have it -- eight Finalists, as chosen by you, our distinguished panel of judges.  Now, to  select which of these deserving contestants will be crowned Miss Wingnut 2011 and Belle of the NRO Beggin'  Boat Ride, imagine that you are Rose from James Cameron's Titanic, and each competitor is Jack, the Leonardo DiCaprio character, and decide -- based on their photo and resume -- which one you'd most like to let sink into the frigid waters of the North Atlantic.  Feel free to explain your reasons, show your work, and designate Runners Up in the event your first choice is unable to fulfill his or her duties.

We'll count up all the votes, and announce the winner later this week.  And on behalf of the Pageant, I'd just like to say:  America thanks you, although frankly, the Holland America Line isn't all that thrilled with you.

Welcome back to the 1st Annual NRO Beauty Pageant, in which Glamour Shots of pathological, if unpersuasive, liars go head-to-head for the honor of being crowned Miss Wingnut 2011!

As you'll recall, these headshots were posted by National Review Online in an effort to actually entice people on board their plague ship fundraising cruise.  But as Jerome Kern night say, these celebrity sociopaths aren't just lovely to look at; they're delightful to know:

Moderated panel sessions featuring our esteemed guest speakers, along with plenty of passenger Q&A.

Imagine the chance to ask Rich "Starbursts" Lowry plenty of probing questions, like, "As a nationally syndicated columnist, do you judge a political candidate primarily on messaging skills, policy positions, or how quickly you can masturbate to completion during a debate?"

Plenty of chances to meet, schmooze and enjoy personal interaction with our special guest speakers.

EARL:  ...and sign it "Shit Flower."
ROVE:  Turdblossom.
EARL:  Whatever.

Now, on to Round Three!

Category #1:  Miss "Last Known Photograph"
Talent:  Vanishing without a trace; scratching the word "Croatoan" in the Break Room lunch table.

Question From the Judges:  Where Do You Want to Be in Five Years? Discovered in the trunk of an abandoned 1997 Chevrolet Monte Carlo.

Category #2:  Miss Unindicted Co-Conspirator

Turn-Ons:  BDSM roleplay scenarios in which I'm a suave Gestapo officer and Article II of the Constitution is a willowy young French girl suspected of working with the Resistance; and she's a defiant lass!  Oh yes!  And oh so very beautiful in her defiance...at first...

Turn-Offs:  Special Prosecutors; balky shredding machines.
Category #3:  Miss Ventriloquist Dummy From Magic


Talent:  Turning my head 360 degrees; sleeping in a suitcase.

Question From the Judges:  Where Do You Want to Be in Five Years?  Creeping you the fuck out.

Please vote for your favorite contestant in each category (click here for Round One, and here for Round Two).  The winners will advance to the Sudden Death round, which will decide who will wear the Teabagger Tiara!

Thanks for joining our continuing coverage of the nation's most prestigious beauty pageant based on decade-old headshots, in which celebrity pundits from the NRO fund-raising cruise compete head to head for the honor of representing their own school of heavily-subsidized bullshit.  (Click here for Round One.)

Category:  Miss "I Thought I Was Posing For An Aramis Ad in 1964"
Talent:  Making sweet, sweet love to the Camera

Question From the Judges:  Where Do You Want to Be in Five Years?  I see myself as the spokesmodel for Smoldering Man-Scowl, my own line of imposter fragrances.


Category:  Miss Most Likely to Be Cast as "Pop, the Creepy Loner Who Runs a Motel in a Remote Area"

Talent:  Lulling Guests Into a False Sense of Security; Sharpening Cutlery

Question From the Judges:  Where Do You Want to Be in Five Years?  Peering through a peephole, watching you shower.  


Category:  Miss Eerie, Vacant, Dead-Eyed Stare

Talent:  Lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes.

Question From the Judges:  Where Do You Want to Be in Five Years?  Feasting on your soul.

Please vote for your favorites in each category.  This week, one of these lucky contestants will be crowned Miss Wingnut, 2011!

Over at Roy's place, Jay B. (ace blog remarker and thrower of fine barbeques) mentioned that NRO is having another of their fund-raising cruises -- a sort of Love Boat meets Ship of Fools meets Titanic mash-up, with Kathryn Jean Lopez as the Unsinkable Molly Brown, S.E. Cupp as Julie Your Cruise Director, and Jonah Goldberg as Some Unidentifiable Flotsam -- and it features many of the leading voices in contemporary conservative commentary.  Alas, if you embark on this voyage of intellectual discovery, you also have to see their faces, and I imagine most passengers' reaction will be similar to mine when I clicked over and viewed the staff's mugshots: slack-jawed stupefaction, followed by two hours of lost time.

Still, these are all Randian Übermenschen und frauen, who firmly believe that cut-throat, unregulated competition strengthens both a nation's economy and her people, so let's take these glamour shots and hold a beauty contest!

I'll arrange the portraits by category, and you vote for the winner in each one -- and feel free to come up with  your own (and no doubt better) captions.  Ready? (If not, you can just skip to the cat pictures below.)

Category #1:  Miss Smug



Talent Portion:  Smiling with pursed lips.

Question:  Where Do You Want to Be in Five Years?  Leading the unexamined life.

Category #2:  Miss Old Man and the Sea


Talent Portion:  Storing scotch in my jowls for the winter.

Question:  Where Do You Want to Be in Five Years?  Enjoying the sweet release of death.

Okay, that's it for Round One.  Please cast your ballots in Comments, and best of luck to all of our lovely contestants!