Happy Boo Year! It's going to be a good one. I can just feel it in my bones. 2008 has a pretty nice whoop-doo ring to it. Don't you think? Sure, its starting out slow, but this looks like a pretty good year for movies and we're not even a week into it yet. What can you say about a month that has such delicious one-offs as Be Kind Rewind, Rambo and First Sunday. January has long been considered a dumping ground for noxious garbage, but that is quickly changing. There's not enough room for the good fluff that is making its way onto our HD and Blu-Ray DVD shelves. So, we're getting some treats a little earlier than we expected. Whoop-doo!

Let's get this 08 train 'ah rolling. Here's what happened the first week of January:

The Thing? Whoop-doo!

Arizona's Thing of Mystery? Whoop-doo! I have long been an admirer of the roadside attraction. When I pull out of a gas station on a long road trip, and see that I will be meet with some sort of bizarre freak show two hundred odd miles down the way, my blood starts pumping really fast. The hairs on the back of my neck start to raise up. The spook show and the Circus sideshow sneak peek have long been absent from the entertainment scene. These are all we have left. Heading from Texas to California on the I-10, I was greeted by a humongous billboard promising the mystery of Arizona's The Thing. Every thirty miles, these ominous black googly eyes would ask me, "What is it?" I desperately needed to know. The anticipation was deafening, and it made that three hour stretch of highway seem like quick clip. I couldn't stand it. I needed to know what The Thing was. Its origins and exoskeleton were discussed in length. "Is it an alien? A dead deer dressed up like a monster? A pool of melted tire rubber with some plastic eyes glued to it?" This had suddenly become the roadside equivalent of the Cloverfield Lion Monster. I could hardly contain my buzzing skin when we arrived at the actual location of The Thing. It is housed in this goofy gift shop selling The Thing paraphernalia and other truck stop Knick-Knacks. They even had The Thing bottled water. It cost exactly one dollar to get a glimpse of The Thing, which is housed behind this giant steel door. We gladly paid the admittance fee and headed towards our fate. We were informed that The Thing was in the third barn to the left. On the way there, we saw an actual car said to be owned by Hitler, a giant wood carving of Sadomasochists in a jail cell, and a ton of wooden creatures hand carved by a delusional grandma. Already worth the buck we paid. A paved walkway painted with giant yellow footprints led us to The Thing. Right outside the barn a gang of barking dogs japped us. After recovering from that small fright, we saw it. The wooden box that contained The Thing. We peered past the glass, and marveled at the otherworldly "thing" that rested inside the makeshift casket. Scary, scary...What was it? Sorry, brother. I'm not going to ruin the surprise for you. You'll just have to head out on I-10 and see it for yourself.

Boos! And Whoop-doos!

Wizards in the Internet? Whoop-doo!

Shannyn Sossamon's Wizard Theory? Whoop-doo! Sossamon is not your typical actress. She seems grounded in the actual world of working stiffs, and always exudes an air of positive energy. She hasn't really gotten caught up in the celebrity Taoism, and would much rather ask you about your day then tell you about her's. She's a friendly lass with a few strange ideas. I've always enjoy chatting with her. While out promoting this week's supernatural thriller One Missed Call, Sossamon revealed a theory that doesn't make too much sense. But it is scary and funny at the same time. She seems to think there are real wizards. Not Harry Potter neo-quishbags or jokers running around the park with thistles stuck in their hair. She is talking about these average looking Joe Fridays that study black magic and have a higher understanding of the occult. Satanic theorists that dabble in the true black witchcraft of Ye Ol' England and Ireland. They know how to manifest their negative energy into pliable goo, and shoot it into the Internet. That's right, Sossamon tells me that these Wizards are capable of transporting their transgressed souls through our wireless ports. They are traveling at the speed of light, and are around us as we speak. You are not safe if you have a wireless Internet connection in your house. This is like some sort of bizarre Underground Railroad used for transporting ectoblastic lightening. None of us our safe. And it might be why your teeth are buzzing right now. I think this theory is true.

Boos! And Whoop-doos!

Tyler Perry? Boo!

Tyler Perry is Star Trek? Boo! WTF is this? First off, let me just state that I hate Star Trek, and anything having to do with it's false views of brotherly love. Simon Pegg is starring as Scotty, and I still couldn't give a shit. I want to see this about as much as I want to pinch my ass fissure on a long road trip. I'd rather have the inside of my underwear looking like a murdered Indian than have to sit through this Sci-Fi heap. I'd rather smell the spaghetti freshness of a dead baby car wreck for all of eternity than have to watch J.J. Abrams Star Trek redo just one time. Yeah, you get the point. I don't like Star Trek and I never will. But, inevitable, I will have to sit through its protracted weight. And now, I will have to see Tyler Perry in a Star Trek uniform. Way to make it more tolerable, you goddamn dickheads! Why not throw George Burn's dead body in there, and Gary Coleman as well. This is a train wreck waiting to happen. I wish I didn't have to stand right on the tracks as it so recklessly rushes towards my face. Does this mean we'll see William Shatner in a Chitlin play sometime soon? God, I hope so.

Boos! And Whoop-doos!

Hancock? Whoop-doo!

Hancock? Whoop-doo! What can I say? The whale toss made me laugh. This has the potential to be very black, and if there's one thing director Peter Berg knows, it's black comedy. Just look at Very Bad Things. That film's so dark, it reverts from being funny to just plain disturbing. I like the idea of Will Smith as an alcoholic super hero that wakes up from a bender to help kids and kittens. I like his destructive nature. And I love Jason Bateman as his PR rep. All I can say is, this better be good! What with Berg and crew shutting down LAX for weeks at a time, and stalling traffic on Hollywood and Highland for hours on a busy work week. He owes it to every single person that had to wait in his or her car on a hot afternoon. Call it "The Perfectionist's Take." On the plus side, no one died during the making of Hancock. And it returns Smith to his 4th of July glory days. This has the potential to be better than My Super Ex-Girlfriend. Lets hope it lives up to that delineable decree.

Boos! And Whoop-doos!

Another shot of Tequila? Boo!

More Tila Tequila? Boo! I am officially old. Why? Because when I saw this TV show, I had to turn it off in disgust (after watching it attentively for twenty-four minutes). This is the most repulsive dating show on the market. A shit factory. It had me proclaiming, "I would never let my kids watch this scatfest!" It is truly awful. And that little midget Tequila is shockingly abrasive. She hurts my eyes and my elbows. I can't believe that MTV one-upped this shnock nest. It's a snoozer; boring and blatantly offensive. It is the downfall of American Society. That must be why it's MTV's highest rated show in the last two years. This muzzled crunch muffin gives my favorite after dinner shot a bad name. She is the worm in my aperitif. Guess who won't be making out with the cableman this year? That's right. Me! I don't need her energy hovering anywhere near my Color-Tyme console...Oh, Christmas! Google is informing me that she is a viral disease in my wireless Internet. She is infecting my skin with dick cancer as we speak. Where's the phonebook? I have to sue AT&T. Wizards and Tila are both in my infected wireless space, and I can't take it!

Boos! And Whoop-doos!

One Missed Call? Boo!

One Missed Call? Boo! I really like both Ed Burns and Shannyn Sossamon. They are fine actors and really nice people. They genuinely like what they do. And I enjoy watching them do it. But this is hands down one of the worst films I have seen in a very long time. It's laughably bad. MST3K bad. At one point, a burnt corpse falls on top of Sossamon and you half-expect them to start making out. The only positive thing about the whole enterprise is that it will make a ton of cash opening weekend. It is the only thing coming out. Teenagers' willingness to spend their parents' money on this crap will ensure both Burns and Sossamon more work in the future. Heck, with the start of January being so slow to roll, this could generate enough cash to call forth a sequel. A sequel could only be better. As it stands, One Missed Call is rotgut whiskey. A bottle of Sisqo mixed with blueberry yogurt. It's neither pleasant coming in or going out of the body electric. Stay away. Seriously.

Thanks for stopping by. I'll be here all year. Can't wait. It's going to be a beautiful ride.