11:55 PM: It's time to duel!

So, I saw Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie earlier tonight, getting a free trading card in the bargain.

Yes, one might question this decision, especially in light of the fact that I still have yet to get around to seeing Spider-Man 2. With that said, it's worth keeping in mind that I don't like going to movies with lots of other people around. I actually went into a theatre with the intention of seeing Spidey a couple of times, but it was sold out the first time, and I got scared off by the crowds the second. I correctly reasoned that a 9 PM showing of Yu-Gi-Oh! was likely to be sparsely attended.

For anybody blissfully unaware of the TV version, Yu-Gi-Oh! is not entirely dissimilar to Pokémon, in that it's a children's anime show that dramatizes a trading card game. It goes a step further, however, in that the characters in Yu-Gi-Oh! are actually playing with cards, the same cards in the game being sold. The cards are shown, as are the attack and defense points associated with them and a running tally of each player's life points. It's a triumph of marketing. The plots aren't especially logical, the animation is nothing to write home about, and the whole friendship theme is kinda hokey. But it sells cards, and it's pretty addictive in its own right. Maybe there are subliminal messages to keep people watching, or, more likely, it's the cartoon equivalent of comfort food.

So, for the movie, ask yourself the following question: would you welcome the opportunity to see four back-to-back episodes of the TV show -- comprising a complete story arc -- on the big screen?

If your answer is "you couldn't pay me enough," or "I'm not really sure," or "Yu-Gi-What?" then you'll want to choose some other cinematic experience. If, on the other hand, you squealed out loud when you found out this existed, if the term "blue eyes white dragon" means something to you, and if your answer is "hell, yes," then rest assured that, unlike the dismal Pokémon 2000, the TV show on the big screen is just what you'll get. As you must have gathered by now, I'm in that latter camp, and I was thoroughly entertained.

(Obviously, I don't care how little street cred I have.)

11:01 PM: Joe Schmo 2 finale

...a bit drawn out, but, once again, brilliant.

There are several reasons why this show works, with different ones coming to the forefront in different episodes. You've got the over-the-top parody of reality shows, and there's some really good writing, acting, and editing involved. You've also got the reactions of the two people who aren't actors, and the question of whether they'll figure it out. And one thing that makes this show a refreshing change from, oh, every other reality show out there is that it doesn't have a mean bone in its metaphorical body. A different set of producers might've been all about making fun of the real people involved, both during the run of the show, and at the big reveal. This show is totally on the non-actors' side.

And thanks to a marathon showing of the first eight episodes earlier today, I should now have the whole series on tape, so if you don't have Spike TV, and want to see what I've been going on about, lemme know.

12:42 AM: Blogger Update

I'm happy to note that Blogger has fixed the previously-reported glitch with their editor. One can now once again edit posts using Opera. Yay!

Okay, briefly, here's what I've been up to, culturally speaking. Last Sunday, I met Sooz and a bunch of other people for a Shakespeare in the Park performance of Much Ado About Nothing, which was pretty good.

Then, Tuesday night, there was a double-feature of The Muppets Take Manhattan and The Blues Brothers, and while the first of those is the weakest of the three Henson-era Muppet movies, and while I'd seen it on the big screen when it was first released, I'm not made of stone. It turns out that a second-rate Henson film is actually better than a first-rate SNL spinoff.

Tonight, I saw Anchorman, which was cute. 3.5 stars out of 5.

The other day, Pam posted an entry about the audition process for a play she's casting, and mentioned that one of the questions she asks is who the auditioner's favorite Muppet is. I posted a concise reply in her comments: "Prairie Dawn." She sent me an equally concise e-mail: "Prairie Dawn? Really?"

Really.

Someday, after Hooper's store has been cordoned off, and children's hopscotch chalk has been requisitioned for drawing outlines of people and monsters and a very large bird on the sidewalk, Maria is going to look into a reporter's camera and say, "Prairie Dawn has always seemed like such a sweet girl. I can't believe she'd do anything like this..."

I think Prairie Dawn has an internal life far more interesting than the other Sesame Street Muppets. Cookie Monster just wants cookies, the Count loves to count, the Two-Headed Monster... well, I don't understand the Two-Headed Monster. Telly is admittedly neurotic, and he has a triangle fixation, but he has his friendship with Baby Bear to lean on.

(I will grant, by the way, that there were other contenders. I'm fond of Oscar the Grouch, but I was confined to one choice, and I preferred to go with the less obvious one. And there's always Rowlf, but he's just not as complex.)

There are two Muppet characters in the Sesame Street cast who are likely to be taken as boringly conventional: Bert and Prairie Dawn. Bert is an open book; while he really does generally want to be left alone to read in peace, to collect bottlecaps, and to feed the pigeons, it's clear that he secretly enjoys the bit of chaos Ernie brings to his life. That's all he needs to be stable and well-rounded, if dull.

Prairie is another story. Prairie lives alone, and doesn't hang out with anybody in particular. Prairie takes her responsibilities very seriously, almost desperately so. She doesn't secretly enjoy the antics of the slackers on the street; their inability to get with the program is a cross she has to bear, something she overcomes as best she can, trying to put on cultural exhibitions for the edification of all. Somebody needs to be sure the children at home know what the letter of the day is; somebody has to organize plays; somebody needs to make sure things are running smoothly instead of dropping everything to sing the alphabet song whenever she'd like to, and Prairie sees herself as being that somebody. And when things go wrong with the plan, watching her freak out can be a thing of beauty.

One wonders what she does when she's at home and the cameras are off. I've never gone in for the theories about Bert and Ernie; I don't think Telly has a special stash of triangle porn to keep him warm at night. But it would not surprise me in the least to find out that Prairie has some black leather outfits in her closet, not to mention a well-stocked bar. I think she has dreams of someday getting off Sesame Street and, who knows, maybe getting a one-woman show on Broadway. (She's been saving clippings about Avenue Q; if one puppet cast can make it big, why can't she?) I suspect she'd have left years ago, but she's convinced that Sesame Street will fall apart without her there. There are years of suppressed frustration and ambition hiding underneath that deceptively cute country-girl face, and I'd like to think she'll find a way of dealing with it other than the scenario found at the start of this entry. But you never know.

Or maybe I'm just reading way too much into a puppet on a children's television show.