In between networks promos and local cable advertisements during The Penguins of Madagascar (clearly they've run out of good names for cartoons these days) on Nickelodeon, I encountered two the most senseless commercials I've seen in recent months.

The first was an ad for Honey Nut Cheerios featuring their animated mascot, Buzz. The only problem with this commercial was that it didn't make any sense. Honest-to-goodness transcript as follows:

BEE: Buzz, everybody's at the Honey Geyser to make Honey Nut Cheerios!

BUZZ: Yeah, 'cause here comes the honey!

Honey Geyser erupts, but then is drawn back in on itself in a honey vortex.

BUZZ: Where's it going? Come on!

No one follows Buzz into the vortex.

BUZZ: Where am I? And the honey... It's being sucked into that mummy's tomb!

Cue glowing, growing, growling sarcophagus.

BUZZ: I've only got one shot at this!

Buzz points his wooden honey dipper like a magic wand at the sarcophagus. The honey dipper releases electricity which topples nearby obelisks, damming the honey stream, causing the sarcophagus to shrink.

SARCOHPGOUS: Nooooooooo!

BUZZ: Yes!

Buzz leaves as the geyser starts flowing again.

BEE: Buzz, you're safe!

BUZZ: And so's our honey, so everybody can have delicious Honey Nut Cheerios.

VOICEOVER: It's the honey sweet part of a good breakfast. From the hive that's nuts about honey.

Lessons learned: honey comes from honey geysers, is coveted by bee-mummies (who present only a mild inconvenience), and honey dippers are electrical in nature. None of which makes me want to eat cereal.

The very next commercial broadcast was done infomercial style for Touch-N-Brush, "the hands-free toothpaste dispenser that works with just a touch!" The highlight of this ad is the series of images of apparently physically or mentally handicapped people frustrated by messy, hard-to-use, and difficult to understand toothpaste tubes. "You squeeze. You roll. You press. Now your bathroom looks a mess!"

Maybe this commercial is speaking to the portion of America I've never visited, but I don't recall seeing any bathrooms where dried toothpaste was on all the countertops, sinks, and walls as depicted by the users in this commercial. If that's how these people squeeze toothpaste tubes, I'm interested in watching them squeeze ketchup, shake hands, or hug their children.

Lessons learned: Squeezing a tube of toothpaste is hard. Can't someone else do it for me?

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Just when I thought it was safe to go back into the water: Michael Phelps is the new spokesman for Kellogg's Corn Flakes and Frosted Flakes cereals, and the media wants you to be very upset about it.

Apparently -- and this was news to me -- everyone in the world (except the clever bastards at Kellogg's) wanted Phelps to endorse General Mills' Wheaties, a cereal with much less sugar content and the iconic real estate to which Americans look for their annual re-definition of their sports role-model. (Olympic decathlete Bob Richards was the first athlete to appear on the front of a Wheaties box in 1958, and it's pretty much been a who's who of sport stars-of-the-moment for the 50 years since.) It seems that the Wheaties cover means something to people, and failing to appear on Wheaties must represent some sort of failing on the part of Phelps. (Nevermind that Kellogg's has already paid well over $70 million this summer alone to sponsor the Olympics and Team USA while Wheaties has spent nothing.) Worse still, Phelps' endorsement of Frosted Flakes (once called Sugar Frosted Flakes) is by many considered an endorsement of shoveling cane sugar into America's already obese children. How dare you make America more fat, Mr. Phelps?

I say America, make up your mind. Do you want Phelps as hero (world-conquering, invulnerable super-athlete) or Phelps as angel (life-affirming, affable boy-next-door)? Kellogg's wisely will take what they can get. After all, they have some experience with the original dual-identity sponsor, Superman, who proudly promoted their product during the televised Adventures of Superman starting in 1952, years before Wheaties began promoting athletes on the front of their box.

If Frosted Flakes is good enough for Superman, then it damn well ought to be good enough for Michael Phelps. If you need an orange Wheaties box to tell you who your heroes are, I think you've got bigger problems than even Michael Phelps can fix.

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The Dark Knight opens next week, and not a minute too soon. The light at the end of the tunnel is finally visible: in the near future, I'll no longer be bombarded by The Dark Knight advertising. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not next week, but soon. Mercifully soon.

No, I will not be watching the movie. (In case you are one of the 6 people who read this blog and were somehow unaware: Batman Begins sucked. I will be giving no more money to Christopher Nolan.) Yet I have to wonder how all this advertising and branded product placement (peanut butter cups, microwave popcorn, breakfast cereal, pizza, race cars, cable television, etc.) is supposed to encourage my desire. I remember that Batman advertising was a hysteria back in the late-80s/early-90s as well. But even then: did commercials of Alfred drinking Diet Coke actually help sales of either product?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to head over to eBay to grab a pair of those limited edition Nike Marty McFly Hyperdunks.

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I just remembered that the world was supposed to end today. Maybe it did and I just wasn't paying attention.

The remake of Richard Donner's film The Omen was released today. I really liked the original and find it completely unnecessary to remake the film. (In fact, I'm opposed to remakes on general principle, though I can see the validity if the remake were to improve on an overlooked or poorly funded original. No one needs to remake Citizen Kane, but maybe we could do with a new Quatermass Xperiment (a precursor to the fundamentally similar John Carpenter's The Thing which was itself a remake) or Kingdom of the Spiders (though I would insist that this remake must feature Shatner in a prominent role, maybe even a reprisal of his role as the charming Dr. Rack Hansen).

On a related note, about this time of year, my friends begin demanding my presence at the movie theater for the blockbuster summer releases. As a loud-mouth sour-puss, they like to bring me along as the honorary Mikey of Life cereal fame. Since I hate everything, if I enjoy a movie, it's got to be good. (And if I don't like a movie, at least they get an entertaining ear-full of why it stunk.)

Since everyone loves lists, at least so far as VH1, E, and Bravo are apparently concerned, may I present my chronological 15 Worst Films of the Past 15 Years list. Please note that these films are not bad in the pedestrian I-don't-know-how-to-make-a-film way. (This, therefore, disqualifies all Roger Corman and Ed Wood films from the list.) I'm also disqualifying sequels, because they are intrinsically bad: they are unimaginative, restrained remakes of earlier films made purely to capitalize on previous films' characters and premises. The following films are bad in the I-know-better-than-to-make-this-movie-but-I-did-it-anyway category. (In other words, they are were big-budget, major studio, national release movies that sucked.)

• Oscar (1991) - Sylvester Stallone as a comic gangster. Most people will tell you that Stallone's Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot is worse. It's not. Estelle Getty has some funny lines in that one.

• Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) - What a bit of inspired casting! Alan Rickman plays a bad guy. Morgan Freeman plays a sidekick. And Kevin Costner plays a long-winded American pretending to be English nobility turned hero of the common man. Couldn't Kevin Costner just hire a hooker to give him a hand-job so that we don't have to watch his films anymore?

• The Good Son (1993) - I knew when I saw this film that one day Elijah Wood would be a star. I also knew that Macaulay Culkin wouldn't be one for much longer. Theoretically, this film would be a stirring psychological thriller, but I find that the really plodding pace and horrible acting makes it a good cure for insomnia.

• The Firm (1993) - What do you get when you take a script based on a best selling novel, add box office gold with Tom Cruise, Gene Hackman, Ed Harris, Holly Hunter, and Gary Busey and let Sydney Pollack direct them? You get a cliched legal drama that lasts for 2 and a half painful hours and a cop-out ending. Thanks!

• Greedy (1994) - This is a movie that proves that an ensemble cast of talented actors (yes, it includes Ed Bagley, Jr. -- I said it was an ensemble cast, didn't I?) aren't necessarily greater than the sum of its parts. Though filmed before Kirk Douglas's stroke and Michael J. Fox's Parkinson's Disease, you'll never be able to tell the difference.

• Pocahontas (1995) - This film is mind-blowing in its mediocrity. That's saying something for a Disney "Masterpiece" film. This film won an Oscar for best song, but you probably can't tell what that song was anymore, can you? Nothing about this film is memorable. Fiction dressed as history, this sleep-inducing bore-fest marked the end of the second renaissance of Disney animation. Can you believe that someone wasted their time to make this crap one painting at a time? (And now Disney is reduced to Bambi II.)

• Independence Day (1996) - There is nothing that this movie does that many other better movies before it didn't do better. (Earth Vs. the Flying Saucers had saucers blowing up Washington D.C., Alien had scary aliens, and Spaceballs had Bill Pullman.) In fact, this movie can definitively be said to be the end of Randy Quaid's career as a film actor. He now exclusively plays parodies of his character in this film: a stupid, fat slob.

• Air Force One (1997) - I'm often accused of failing to suspend my disbelief during a movie. Sure, I can accept Harrison Ford as the president of the United States. Sure, I can accept that Air Force One is like an office building in the sky. Sure, I can even accept mid-air rescue from a flying 747. But I totally have to draw the line at a female Vice President. "Get off my plane!"

• Titanic (1997) - "Wait, that's a good movie," you say? No, it's not. If you don't immediately fall for the overly-sappy love story between a bratty street punk and the spoiled bitch, you're left with a very, very long wait to see a large, animated boat sink. This movie is about James Cameron's love affair with a sunken wreck, nothing more.

• Godzilla (1998) - Americans love foreign films. Wait, no we don't. We love remaking foreign films, replacing the inspired bits with tried and true cliches. Which is exactly what Godzilla is. Gone is the classic and beloved man in a rubber suit terrorizing a model town. Now we get ugly CGI that makes the monster look more like a constipated t-rex than an electrified monitor lizard. Have I mentioned the really horrible casting on this film, yet? Really, this is just an excuse to destroy New York City on film, again. We americans are also a bit masochistic.

• Armageddon (1998) - While this movie might suck, at least it should get credit for being appropriately named. Who says that there is no truth in advertising? Another ensemble picture that totally blows. It's movies like this that make Michael Bay a running joke. (Note that J.J. Abrams, brainchild of Lost, wrote the screenplay for this trash. And now I'm supposed to be excited that he's attached to the new Star Trek movie?) Though I'm ranking these movies in chronological order, this film should get a special commendation, as I do believe that it is the absolute worst film ever made.

• Planet of the Apes (2001) - Not really a remake as much as it is a pile of crap. I used to like Tim Burton (Pee-Wee's Big Adventure is a spectacular film), but based on this film, I refuse to watch anything Burton does anymore. Sorry, Tim, this is too bad for words. The action merely crawls along without any real suspense or plot since we all saw the much superior Heston film years ago. And the deus ex machina twist at the climax only adds insult to injury. Remember, kids, nuclear power is forever.

• Minority Report (2002) - Once upon a time, Steven Speilberg could do no wrong: Jaws, Close Encounters, Raiders of the Lost Arc, Jurassic Park, The Color Purple, Schindler's List... damn, that's an impressive list. But then, sometime around Saving Private Ryan, Mr. Spielberg lost touch with the rest of the human race. His movies became a series of incredibly unnecessary visceral moments that no longer have any cohesive narrative use. And then he gave us AI. Just like AI, this film poses as insightful and thought-provoking in the same way that Fox News poses as fair and balanced. There is a lost eyeball sequence in this film that would make Vincent Price proud. Plus, this movie features Tom Cruise as a holier-than-thou super-cop with fatherhood issues and an addiction to fantasy. Quite the stretch for you, eh, Tom?

• The Core (2003) - I almost didn't include this movie here, because so far as I'm concerned, it's really just a spiritual sequel to Armageddon. But it is bad. Very, very bad. In yet another masculine role, Hillary Swank tries to drive a phallus-like drill into the "core" of the world in order to trigger an explosion that will make the world move. (Lets see, she's been the next Karate Kid, a teenaged boy, a police detective, an attorney, a space shuttle pilot, a boxer.... Is no man's role safe from the manly grip of Ms. Swank?)

• The Day After Tomorrow (2004) - From Roland Emmerich, the director who brought you Godzilla and Independence Day (see above), comes a(nother) tale of the destruction of New York City! With Ice! I think that the FBI should be investigating Mr. Emmerich for terrorist activity based on the number of times that the has destroyed New York on film. There oughta be a law against Roland Emmerich.

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True story: I'm walking around my apartment preparing to take a few photos for eBay with my digital camera. I'm also absent-mindedly munching on a handfull of Nabisco Wheat Thins. (That's product placement, by the way.)

I'm a little surprised when I pop a cracker into my mouth and bite down. Unlike your average Wheat Thin, this tastes like plastic. And it's smooth. My first instinct is that I must be chewing on a wrapped prize like you find in cereal boxes and Cracker Jack boxes.

I take it out of my mouth and find that I have just bitten through my camera's memory card. D'oh!

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I've been watching a lot of Star Trek, and I've decided 2 things:

1. Leonard Nimoy is spectacular.

We all know him as Mr. Spock, a distinguished role among many on TV and movies. He is also an accomplished director of both media. Even more astonishing, he is a singer with nearly a dozen albums to his credit. ("The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" gets all of the glory, but if you've never heard Nimoy sing "If I Had a Hammer," you haven't lived. It brings me to tears every time I hear it.) And I've just recently discovered that he is a photographer specializing in nude female photographs. Damn, Leonard, do you have to make all of the rest of us look like such spectacularly lazy bastards?

2. Captain Picard is a shitty captain.

Sure, he strikes a distinctive pose, all regal and bald, but he has no idea what his ship or his crew are ever capable of. When confronted with any new situation, he is as confused as an old man presented with a new children's cereal box. Worse still, after he acquires even a little information about his new situation, he jumps to some immediate, outlandish solution that could only possibly be correct on a syndicated science fiction television show. (Better to be lucky than good, eh, Jean-Luc?)

To disguise his foolhardy blustering, many Picard defenders point out that Picard is simply a more calm and rational man than his forebearer (the great and mighty Captain Kirk). This could hardly be further from the truth. To jump to a faulty conclusion at the drop of his last hair is neither rational nor commendable. Picard's outrageous temper tantrums, seen frequently in outbursts against his crew (especially including that impetuous young Ensign Crusher) but rarely discussed, are further evidence of his instability and inability to lead. The fact that the crew follows the old man (who leads from the rear *tsk, tsk, tsk*) demonstrates only that they are just as sick of him and desperate for escape from his tyranny as I am.

At least he's still better than Captain Janeway.

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