And now, for the rest of the story. Or at least the rest of the movies I watched in November.

192. (729.) The V.I.P.s (1963)
The two classic actors that American loves and I just don't care for are Marlon Brando (hack!) and Elizabeth Taylor. Maybe I had to grow up with them. In this film, she's constantly overshadowed by husband Richard Burton, who is a great actor. But then, so is almost everyone else in this movie, including Orson Welles, who appears to be parodying himself.

193. (730.) It's a Small World (1950)
An exploitation flick following the life of a midget who learns that his natural place is in the circus. I'm sure everyone involved felt great about themselves.

194. (731.) It's a Big Country (1951)
This propaganda film is an anthology of short stories featuring many of MGM's biggest stars. The whole thing is spliced together with a Movietone news-style narration. It's a great movie for Americans who love ABC News' "America Strong" public interest segments.

195. (732.) Slither (1973)
I initially confused this with Dirk Benedict's Sssssss, which was also made in '73, but this James Caan movie has nothing to do with snakes. Or logic. It's a road/crime comedy, and completely enjoyable.

196. (733.) The Last Time I Saw Archie (1961)
Premise: Jack Webb and Robert Mitchum are army recruits who live life their own way until hilarity ensues. Except not so much. Webb, of course, is his usually stiff, smug self, but Mitchum seems to be phoning it in in an untaxing role.

197. (734.) Fanny and Alexander (1982)
Seeing this on the channel guide in September, Mom told me to record it. Then she promptly refused to watch it for the next two months. Tired of seeing it sitting there, unloved, I decided to give a try solo. What a terrible decision. Most critics seem to think that this, almost Ingmar Bergman's last film, is something of a masterpiece. I say that if you can't even tell your audience what your plot is after an hour, you're being self-indulgent beyond the definition of narcissism.

As a general rule, I only list movies here I've seen at least halfway through. But I bailed only 1/3 of the way through this snoozefest. However, since I gave this movie an hour of my life, and it gave me nothing in return, I'm counting it!

Here's what I gathered from that hour: three generations of a formerly wealthy Swedish family go about life in 1907. The womenfolk watch amused as their men drink and curse and fuck the hired help (poorly!). And that's your hour! Time well spent.

The screenshot above was when I knew I was done with the film. When you've spent an hour, and the most rewarding thing you've seen is throwaway dialogue designed to illustrate the humdrum gossip of servants living their lives vicariously through others, you realize that there are better ways to be spending your own time. No surprise this was the last film I watched in November.

More to come. Probably.

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My Memorial Day Weekend has not gone as expected. The good news is Dad brought his new standard puppy, Scarlett, to visit my girls.

Scarlett is 3 months old and her sweet exterior hides a soul of pure trouble. If puppies weren't so cute, we'd smother them in their sleep. But Scarlett isn't the reason I've accomplished nothing this year. That honor goes to Dad's other new addition, Nanny.

When Dad picked her up, she wouldn't eat and had Scours, which is what vets call goat diarrhea. It gets hard to get things done when you are bottle-feeding nutrients to a 4-week-old goat every 3 hours.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a barking puppy to tend to.

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Filming for Puppy Bowl VIII begins today in New York City. Last year's Puppy Bowl drew nearly 10 million viewers for Animal Planet. If puppies and football make such a great combination, maybe Animal Planet needs to look into some other puppy sports.

The hockey Puppy Cup could go on for 7 days, but it might be a bit dangerous to give all those puppies sticks and put them on ice. Tennis' Puppledon would no doubt be cute with all the British-accented barking, but no puppy would be able to pass the dress code. The Tour de Puppy would certainly be dragged down by all the doping accusations. And as much as dogs love cars, no one is going to tune in for the messes made on a PuppieCar track.

The event with the best chance for success is probably PuppyMania. Taking a page from the originator of sports-entertainment, PuppyMania would boggle the mind with the cuteness of the 24-dog Puppy Rumble. Only one puppy would emerge victorious from the dreaded Cage Match. Naturally, the closing number could be the ever-popular Wag Team Championship Match.

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I've been dog sitting for my father's poodle puppy, Rambo, and it turns out that his puppy is better behaved than mine. Victoria, my full grown poodle, is determined to catch one of dad's cats or hens, which makes every trip into the yard a struggle. So far, the score is Victoria 2, Hens 0 -- that's hens caught, not hens killed (Victoria has a poodle's typically soft mouth) -- before I could separate the combatants. Meanwhile, Victoria has her own cheering section as Rambo patiently stands at the top of the deck and barks his gleeful approval. He may be better behaved, but that doesn't mean that he's helping.

[UPDATE]: This blog post requires that I include the following picture of Rambo to illustrate just how vicious he is. You may want to shield the eyes of your impressionable children before scrolling down.

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Tis the season for poodles.

My aunt gifted me two rescued standard poodles this week. The black bitch is named July and is quite a playful handful. The light apricot bitch is named Victoria and is skittish and reserved. They came as a pair, previously owned by a woman who became unable to care for them following an injury. Despite the fact that they are both adults (2+ years old), they've kept me very, very busy.

Meanwhile, my father bought a new standard poodle puppy descended from a line including show champions. Though at this point the puppy remains unnamed, I'm sure that it can't help but do well considering that it's dam was named for Joanna Cameron's title character in television's The Secrets of Isis.

[UPDATE: For the record, Victoria isn't an apricot. She's just a really, really dirty white. Silly girl.]

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I mentioned the puppy in an earlier post. Like all puppies, Charlie is a little engine of destruction. And that's exactly why they're all so damn cute. If they weren't cute, we'd kill them.

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New puppy in the house, breaking all the rules. I don't think you ever really realize how comfortably complacent you've become with the status quo until a new puppy forces you to reorganize everything in the house to ensure that nothing important gets chewed up or peed on. New puppies are notoriously big fans of dangling participles and all the trouble they can cause.

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Burger King thinks I'm stupid. They're trying to sell me miniature hamburgers that are smaller than the Whopper, Jr. However, these smaller burgers are also half-again more expensive than a Whopper, Jr. "But that's because we're selling them in 2-packs," Burger King contends. Seriously, that sort of negates the initial selling-point that they're smaller portions, doesn't it? I know that tiny hamburgers are the latest, greatest craze in the American hospitality industry, but there's a right way and a wrong way to do everything. Charging me more for less is definitely the wrong way.

Desperate to convince me that this is a good idea, Burger King has borrowed a tried-and-true beer advertising ideology, namely boobs. But they've screwed that up, too. Men in their commercials holding an A-cup pair of the "cute" smaller burgers are swarmed with uncommonly attractive coeds who find the burgers -- and by extension, the dork holding their small buns -- adorable. I don't know about Burger King himself, but for me the "cute" response is reserved for things that I want to nurture, like puppies and children, not things that I want to consume, like hamburgers and Hooters waitresses.

Before you call me an overreacting prude, note that the carefully market-tested name of these burgers, "Burger Shots," is a slang term for a photograph of the external female sexual organs. It's also the name of a restaurant chain in the nihilistically perverse Grand Theft Auto universe which is itself based on Burger King. Coincidence? Before you answer, please note that the signature burger at the fictional Burger Shot chain is called a Bleeder. (Think about it.) It's a bit frightening to think of what's coming next from the dirty minds at BK marketing. Will drink refills be renamed "Sloppy Seconds"? Will kids' meals be branded "Fun Bags"? (I kid, but bk.com already advertises "BK Kids Meals Now with BK Burger Shotsâ„¢." Think about THAT.)

Frankly, Burger King, I'm surprised to discover that My Way is quite so lecherous. I think It's pretty clear that at the age of 55, Burger King has become a dirty old man.

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