Oh, Right, *That's* Why

While at the pharmacist today waiting for a prescription to be filled I flipped through the new Entertainment Weekly and reminded myself of why Owen Glieberman should be pistol-whipped, or at least never allowed to write, or even talk, about any movie ever again.

(My original contempt for Gliebermen was born when he gave O Brother Where Art Thou? a 'F' grade, and described it as misanthropic.

O Brother.


What a fucking tool.)

Anyway, in the latest issue, he reviews Ghosts of Girlfriends Past (which, granted, you'd think would be punishment enough for anybody), calls it "cheesy, tacky, and gimmicky" after spending a third of the review telling us how much he dislikes Matthew McConaughey, presumably due to jealousy and/or closeted lust (I'm not sure what else to make of a line like "But even if you've tired of the star's oily cocoa-butter narcissism" other than to think Glieberman spends more time staring at paparazzi shots of McConaughey on the beach than is healthy for anyone)... and then gives it a B-.

What a fucking tool.

I assumed that would be the worst film review I'd read today. I was wrong. But it wasn't even infuriatingly bad like a Glieberman review, it was just weak. Ioz's "oh look at me being clever and pushing your buttons" routine doesn't even rise to the level of annoying... it's just juvenile and sad.

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