I was looking at this picture of Angelina Jolie when I started thinking about how she has a hip bone. Pee comes from there.

Is "juiciness" a word? It just looks ... wrong.

Anyway, even though almost none of the Juicy Cerebellum readers have MySpace accounts, I know some of them lurk around my blogs like creepy Dateline NBC reporters looking for anything and everything Juicy. So here's something to make all of them happy:

I just put out the $140 to renew the site for 12 more months. Not exactly the easiest thing to do, but whatever. I'm always amazed that people think I make money off of the site when in reality the site's been a money pit since the beginning. A money pit minus the funny antics of Tom Hanks and Shelley Long. *GASP*

I guess it's sort of like punk rock bands with a few full-length CDs under their belts. Everyone assumes that they've had CDs, so they must be rich. I've had this page for 10 years (in 9 days it will be exactly a decade!), I've been on Rotten Tomatoes, I've been interviewed in magazines, I've had over one million unique readers, and even had a write-up in USA Today. US-FUCKING-A Today!!! I MUST BE WORTH MILLIONS -- OR AT LEAST $388,000!!! Not really, but if that's what keeps me getting laid, maybe I should just shut up about it and play pretend.

So why do I keep the page online? Well, the sex with a virtual stranger is a nice benefit, but really, after 10 years, it's sort of turned into a Internet treasure (the site, not the sex). The comment isn't as egotistical as it sounds. There's just been so much on there at this point that there's something somewhere there that somebody is going to like or feel nostalgic over or try to steal and pretend is their own (with exception to midgets -- and maybe dwarves).

Every day I get emails thanking me for an update I wrote 8 years earlier and don't even remember writing. I go back and read the update and I'm so far removed from the writing of it that it's like I stumbled upon some other writer who has opinions that are "almost exactly" the same as mine! "What a smart man," I say to myself, "and how witty! He must be worth at least $388,000!" Then I remember it's actually me I'm referring to and I chuckle with myself as I poke me in the navel.

I keep the page online to keep the memories of my grandfather, my friend Jaimie and my dog Brady alive. I keep the page online to remind people of what the Internet looked like before blogs spit their mindless twaddle all over the web. Hell, if for no other reason, I keep it online just to remind people to avoid The English Patient like the fucking plague. It's a movie about sand.

I don't spend nearly as much time writing for the page as I used to (too busy trying to finish one novel and start another), but I still do updates. I'm working on reviews for EC's Tales From the Crypt, Two-Fisted Tales and Shock SupenStories right now (well, not right now, but when I'm not typing this blog). The company sent them for me to review and reviewing them is the least that I could do. I'm a big fan of the EC stuff and these are $50 books. Makes spending that $140 to renew a little less painful.

I plan on doing something special for the 10 year anniversary, but have no idea what. Anyone have any suggestions? Who knows -- maybe I'll just type the word "POOPY" in big letters and be done with it. Maybe I'll announce I'm never writing another update for the page again. Wouldn't that be just like me? I suck.

I guess none of that is important. What matters is that you guys are stuck with me for another 12 months. Let's make them the sweatiest, sloppiest, juiciest 12 months on record!

Until next time ... Stay Juicy!

Okay, Ellen was sort of a drag (her comedy is just too safe, nice and daytime television-y), so who should host the next Academy Awards show? Here's a quick top 10 list I put together to get the ball rolling. Any other ideas?

Let Porthos (my dog) out at around 2:30 in the morning only to discover the ground covered in about a foot of snow.

Went in and visited the website for the local weather center and found out we're supposed to get at least another foot by this time tomorrow (2/26/07).

Let Porthos out again at 4:20 AM and here's what the weather was doing:

Porthos is in that picture somewhere. And I now have no doubt we'll be getting another foot of snow. Of course this has to happen right before the Academy Awards. No Award party for me!
-Alex

PS - Two words, Academy: The Departed

The Sandell Show
Written by: Alex Sandell

Epilepsy. High Cholesterol. Sleep Apnea. Rheumatoid Arthritis. Brain Atrophy. My physical health and my mental self are a living, breathing contradiction. I need to leave an online session of Gears of War early because I'm suffering from excruciating arthritic pain. I can't review the movie I saw last week and fell in love with because my atrophying brain has already forgotten huge chunks of the plot. I get carded buying a 4-pack of Guinness Stout, but my doctor calls me saying that I can't drink it because my liver function tests show that my levels are "significantly elevated" due to my seizure meds. 

In the next 2 weeks I have 6 different appointments. 1 with a heart specialist to see if we need to proceed with stress tests and angiograms to see if my arteries are clogged. 1 for my "abnormally high cholesterol." 1 with a dietician, who will see if she/he can help me lower my abnormally high cholesterol. 1 with a neurologist to decide if I need to switch meds due to my elevated liver functions. 1 for a sleep study related to my sleep apnea. And finally a follow-up with my regular doctor. Doctor appointments have went from a nuisance to a full-time job. I'd rather clean the toilets in an Irish pub with a toothbrush and my tongue than walk into another fucking clinic -- but knowing my luck I'd contract Hepatitis and would have another affliction to deal with on a regular basis. 

I'm like all 13 seasons worth of E.R. rolled into one. With a little Gray's Anatomy (minus the homophobe) and Scrubs thrown in for good measure. If I were up during the day, you could add General Hospital to the list. If the networks could broadcast me, I'd make them a fortune. Screw The Truman Show -- The Sandell Show would have people on the edge of their seats and coming back for more, day in and day out. The only downside would be that, in my fragile condition, the show could be prematurely canceled at any time. But imagine the drama!

"This week on The Sandell Show, Alex decides to see if he can overcome the sexual lethargy caused by the 7 prescription drugs he's on and have sex with a real live girl for the first time in over 6 months! Even if 'it' works, can Sandell find a woman that wants to work with it? Tune in Friday at 10 PM to find out!" "Tomorrow on The Sandell Show, Alex tries to type a review for Black Snake Moan! Will he get to his computer on time to write the review, before he forgets the movie? Unless you're an Alex, you won't forget to tune in at 10 AM for a special Saturday morning show!" "Don't miss next Sunday's episode of The Sandell Show! when Alex forgets whether or not he took his morning dose of epilepsy medication! Did he remember, or will we see him fall into an epileptic fit? Watch to find out or miss out on what your friends will be discussing over the water-cooler on Monday morning!"

So that's my life as an 80-year-old in a 30-year-old's body, encapsulated in brief TV Guide summaries for your convenience. I feel like a character from one of those Movies of the Week that were so popular in the 80s where some kid prematurely ages due to some premature aging disease and looks like he's 100 years old when he's really like 10. Except I don't look older than I am (hopefully) -- I just feel older. So what now? What would you do? Throw in the towel and push up the daisies? Keep popping your prescribed pills and hitting up all the creepy clinics to keep your dying body pumping blood? Me? I'm gonna go drink a beer, play some Gears and deal with the consequences tomorrow, if tomorrow ever comes.

©2007 Alex Sandell/Cerebellum inc. [All Rights Reserved].  Copy this, without my permission, and I'll probably forget. Luckily, my lawyer will remember and he likes money like cats like nip!

Fuck Tom. He has enough friends as it is.

Since I wrote my first professional movie review like 12 years ago, people have been all like, "I love your stuff! Especially your movie reviews." Then, as is typical with me, I stopped writing reviews entirely and received emails along the lines of, "Start writing movie reviews again! I won't go to a movie if you don't recommend it." That made me feel a little like Jesus. Like Jesus without all the miracles.

I have such Jesus Envy. But that's a whole 'nother topic ...

Anyway, deciding to bless you all with my reviewing prowess, I decided to start writing movie reviews again. I'd like to say it was something like you were starving and I was turning my body into bread for you to consume like cannibals, but really it's because the Academy Awards are coming up and I'm kind of bored. 

I've went completely ballistic with the keyboard and have typed out 5 reviews in 4 days. Will I post these 5 reviews on MySpace? Of course not! I may sell myself out for publicity, but I won't sell my soul for your convenience. I'm not Dane Cook, here.

So let's compromise (our values). I'll post the first SENTENCE (I was going to go for a paragraph and then remembered Rupert Murdoch bought MySpace) of each review and you can click for the full review if you so choose. I even provide a link for you to click on, all easy like.

That's all. You get the idea. Here are the reviews:

Pan's Labyrinth

Guillermo del Toro is one of the best in the business. Click for full review>>>

The Queen

The Queen belongs to Helen Mirren. Click for full review>>>

Rocky Balboa

As a child, I enjoyed all of the Rocky movies. Click for full review>>>

Letters from Iwo Jima

Letters from Iwo Jima is one of the most powerful films of the last 20 years and should not be ignored. Click for full review>>>

Dreamgirls

Dreamgirls is a poorly written film with poorly written songs and almost no character development. Click for full review>>>

The opening sentence doesn't do much for ya, does it? My trademark honesty (sometimes bordering on brutality) is completely absent. My jokes about the "private" parts of the human anatomy are entirely missing! Did I sell out? Of course not. I'm far too immature to do such a thing.  I just provided you with the first sentence. Read the rest and I think you'll be pleased.

Now here's the catch:  I have always said I do this for the FEEDBACK. That still holds true. If I don't get some emails regarding these reviews (negative or positive doesn't matter to me), these will be the last reviews I write. The real honest-to-gosh reason I stopped critiquing films was due to the lack of feedback. Well, that and becoming deathly ill. 

Regardless, I want feedback here, at MySpace. I want emails over at The Juicy Cerebellum. I want sexy women to get on a bus and drive across the country to meet me for love, sex and greasy food!

Mother-fuckers -- I want attention (sex and greasy food)! You work for money, I work for comments. It's a pretty low salary, but it gets me by. That and the oddjob I take on so I can get by on feedback (and the oddjobs I take on).

So there. You have your movie reviews. A LOT of you (and by "A LOT" I mean well over 500) have been requesting I write them again. So I did. Now let's do that "give and get" thing that someone once did and the rest of us copied. I write the reviews, you comment on the reviews that I write. Right?

Okay.

We're cool then.

Free stuff people send me to spray my Juice on
Written by:  Alex Sandell

Free Thing # 14

"Mama we're all gonna die. Stop asking me questions. I'd hate to see you cry. Mama we're all full of lies. Mama we're meant for the flies. Right now they're building a coffin your size. Mama we're all gonna die."   
My Chemical Romance:

The Black Parade

It's been 2 years since a record company deemed me worthy of a free CD (outside of that one Independent company I keep ignoring).  And things haven't changed.  I was going to make up this story of how the lead singer of the band sent me an autographed copy of the CD along with a tattooed copy of his dick, but decided that wouldn't fly. But I did receive this CD as a birthday present, making it free and also making it the 14th item reviewed in the Free stuff people send me to spray my Juice on section of The Juicy Cerebellum. Here's the in-depth review that I totally don't feel like writing but am compelled to write under the assumption that if I stop writing stuff people will stop visiting my page:

The End:
"Another contusion, my funeral jag. Here's my resignation, I'll serve it in drag. You've got front row seats to the penitence ball. When I grow up I want to be nothing at all!" When he grows up he wants to be just like me! Yay for identifying! The song's nothing more than a brief introduction to this concept album that wouldn't exist if not for Green Day selling a billion copies of that one CD that was popular and featured in numerous adult television shows that adults watch. It's also a total rip-off of Pink Floyd's guitar sound made famous with The Wall.  All that said, it's the best opening to an album in years and made me make a weird noise that sounded something like "yeearrgitzy" when I first put it into my CD player. The noise came from my mouth. 

9 (on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the best.  And, if you didn't know that 10 is the best, you should probably go blow your brains out.)

Dead!:
"Have you heard the news that you're dead? No one ever had much nice to say I think they never liked you anyway. Oh take me from the hospital bed. Wouldn't it be grand to take a pistol by the hand and wouldn't it be great if we were dead?" This song is super morbid because morbidity proves that a band is all rebellious and anti-authority. These kids are just a video game and a few dozen million dollars away from Columbine! It's a pretty fast song and it's also bouncy.  I like bouncy. It reminds me of when I thought punk was a cause, rather than a product. People bounced then and thought they were part of something. Sort of like how hippies rolled around naked in mud and thought they were changing the world. Thinking you're changing the world while playing in mud and/or bouncing is fun. Boobs bounce. Sometimes in slow-motion. I like this song best when it's fast. And it is fast. But not fast like Minor Threat fast but it has energy. But not like Minor Threat energy.

9

This is How I Disappear:
"Who walks among the famous living dead, drowns all the boys and girls inside your bed." La-la-la. The song is melodic but sort of pussy in a power-ballad sort of way. Like Bon Jovi wrote it, if Bon Jovi was trying to be punk instead of hard rock. The lyrics are pathetic and meaningless. Something about lost love, I think. Just dumb lyrics from a horny guy who's been dumped once or twice in his life. I still find reason enough to sing along, so it's not all bad. As a matter of fact, it's kind of good. In a pussy sort of way, of course. At least if you've been dumped. I wouldn't know. I'm still dating all my girlfriends. I'm a Mormon.

7

The Sharpest Lives:
"The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead. A light to burn all the empires, so bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be
in love with all of these vampires." Burning empires is good because empires are vampires and the sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead because of the sun, or something. These lyrics make absolutely no sense and were probably written while on the marijuana. The beginning guitar in the song sounds like what it feels like to have a seizure, sort of. The first time I heard it I thought my CD was skipping and I went, "Oh FUCK! Why does everything I buy break?" Then I blushed and looked around, hoping that nobody heard me.

8

Welcome to the Black Parade:
"When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city to see a marching band. He said, 'Son when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?'" I love these lyrics, I love this song. Like Mr. T would say back when he was not dying of cancer, "It's Super-Cool -- FOOL." Mr. T was the man until cancer took his life. I guess the lead singer of this group (whoever he is) thinks he's like the voice of a new generation, or whatever. That's probably why he allowed his song to be on ads for stupid corporate television shows. Yep. That's it. Rebellion has always meant selling the rights to your music to Friday Night Lights:  The Lame TV Show.  

9

I Don't Love You:
"After all the blood that you still owe another dollar's just another blow so fix your eyes and get up -- Better get up while you can." A big dumb generic song. I guess it can sort of move you if you're hard-up for rock and roll, but there's a lot better out there. Like my ex-wife, this one's pretty forgettable.

5

House of Wolves:
"As the blood runs down the walls, you see me creepin' up these halls -- I been a bad motherfucker." The lyrics are so lame they make me wanna barf out my balls, but this song sticks in my mind like it was made of super-glue and sticky-tape. It's buggin' me, cuz I don't really love it so much and don't really hate it so much. It's more like I'd give it a

7

Cancer:
"Now turn away, cause I'm awful just to see. All my hair's abandoned all my body, oh my agony. Know that I will never marry. I'm just soggy from the chemo, counting down the days to go. I just hope you know that if you say good-bye today, I'd ask you to be true, cause the hardest part of this is leaving you." Major melodrama bordering on pathetic, but I love it completely. I wonder if it was written for Mr. T? My eyes get all soaked up when I think about how the hardest part of death will be leaving the people who depend on me. What a bitch of a situation. What a semi-great ballad. This song is as generic as they come and as groovy as they go. So? Are you coming or going? Take your pick and live with it.

8

Mama:
"Mama we all go to hell. I'm writing this letter and wishing you well. Mama we all go to hell. Mama we're all gonna die. Stop asking me questions. I'd hate to see you cry. Mama we're all gonna die. Mama we're all full of lies. Mama we're meant for the flies. Right now they're building a coffin your size. Mama we're all full of lies." This song so totally gets it. Like a circus number played in Hell. I can't give it a 10 because it still has it's flaws -- such as never changing tempo significantly enough to matter -- but it shouldn't be ignored.

9

Sleep:
"A drink for the horror that I'm in, for the good guys and the bad guys, for the monsters that I've been. Three cheers for tyranny. Unapologetic apathy. 'Cos there ain't no way that I'm coming back again." In a way it's another Bon Jovi ballad, but the lyrics get me all hopped up and the song is catchy in the same way that Saw movies are moving. If that last sentence made no sense to you, go out and buy the last Justin Timberlake. I have no idea what I'm talking about, all of a sudden.

8

Teenagers:
"The boys and girls in a clique, the awful names that they stick -- You're never gonna fit in much, kid. But if you're troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt, will make them pay for the things that they did. They said, 'all teenagers scare the living shit out of me.' They could care less as long as someone'll bleed. So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose -- Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me." This is the best song on the CD. It's like an anthem about teenagers scaring people who are not teenagers. If played right, it could be the "School's Out" of the next generation. Hopefully the freak in this band won't turn into a big Republican like Alice Cooper did. This generation needs an anthem that isn't spit out by an American Idol contestant.

10

Disenchanted:
"I spent my high school career spit on and shoved to agree. So I can watch all my heroes sell a car on TV. Bring out the old guillotine -- we'll show 'em what we all mean." This is a pretty good ballad. It only suffers from repetitive lyrics that repeat like lyrics that are repetitive so you have to keep hearing the same words again and and again and again in a cycle that repeats. Do you know what I mean? Also, dissing heroes selling cars on TV is hypocritical as hell if you're gonna let your stupid songs be played on commercials for television shows like Friday Night Lights: The Lame TV Show. Still, the music itself sounds like early Motley Crue or Green Day imitating early Motley Crue. Either way, you wanna pull out a lighter and wave your arms.

8

Famous Last Words:

"I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Nothing you can say can stop me going home." So then it ends with this big inspirational number that sounds like one of those songs you hear on the church shows that play on cable access every Sunday. What a horrible way to go out. Hopefully there will be a hidden song to wash out the bad taste of hopefulness.

4

Blood:

"They can fix me proper with a bit of luck. The doctors and the nurses they adore me so. But it's really quite alarming cause I'm such an awful fuck. I gave you blood, blood - Gallons of the stuff. I gave you all that you can drink and it has never been enough. I gave you blood, blood, blood! I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love!"  Thank the maker for hidden songs! When I listen to this one I dance around and pretend I'm one of those famous dancing guys from the 1940s and then I fall down exhausted and laugh and laugh until phlegm comes up in my throat. It's funny that they're dead.

10

OVERALL RATING - My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade gets an average of 7.9 Juicy squirts out of a possible 10 ejaculations. This album is good enough to actually purchase, rather than pirate. The only problem is that it's hard to give money to bands that sell their songs to stupid TV shows like, Friday Night Lights: The Lame TV Show.

Hold tight, because it's back! An annual tradition of bitchiness at The Juicy Cerebellum.  This is where I tell my readers where they can stick it.  It's a fun yearly activity, much like Christmas, Fourth of July, Easter or pretending the crunch of freshly fallen acorns under your feet are the skeletal remains of Jimmy Hoffa.

Click the pic and prepare yourself for the Manifesto!:

That I almost believe that they're real.  I've been living so long with my pictures of you, that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel."
-The Cure

Before they sold it off to Hewlett Packard for a horrendous ad that destroyed everything sacred about the song, "Pictures of You" by The Cure was one of the greatest "crush" songs ever written.  Maybe the greatest.  It embodied my high school crushes and it never failed to get me all weepy-like ("weepy-like" being not quite weepy, but like, I'm gonna get there if I listen to the song a second time). 

But that has nothing to do with this blog (ain't I a stinker?).  This is about pictures.  I've finally decided to take advantage of the picture functionality of MySpace.  Like a seductress with the face of Rupert Murdoch and the ethics of Adolf Hitler, MySpace has started to suck me in (which means they should be banning my account 2 minutes ago). 

I've spent a good hour or two compiling 14 or 15 pictures of things that matter to me.  I didn't put any pics of my friends or family in, because that would be unfair.  MySpace is mega-corporate and just because I'm selling my soul to them doesn't mean I have some moral right to sell my best friends souls along with it.  But my dog is fair game.  Because he's a dog.  He wouldn't know "corporate" from "independent" and he wouldn't care.

Besides -- All Dogs Go to Heaven.  So what's he got to worry about?  If Don Bluth says so, it makes it true.  I read that somewhere once when I wasn't actually reading, but was dreaming about reading something that I never read.

And of course I'm fair game.  Being that I'm myself.  So I've put 3 or 4 pictures of me online.  Enough that, if you really pay attention, you'll pretty much totally know what I look like.  Something I swore would never happen.  But, like I said, I sold my soul -- not for rock and roll -- but for "social networking."

Hey!  Most of y'all did it sooner than I did.  So there.  At least I deliberated.  Like a lawyer.  A lawyer without a soul.  Most likely a corporate lawyer.  A corporate lawyer defending MySpace.  Stupid corporate lawyers!

Anyway, in my own wordy way, I guess I'm just saying, "Look at my pictures."  And read the captions I wrote -- they're funny because they're true.  Now I'm off to listen to some Cure and dream of Hewlett Packard.  High school crushes be damned.   This is the 21st Century and all that flowery love stuff is nothing more than fodder to sell cars, printers and overpriced coffee.