Maybe I’m getting old. Maybe it was just something I ate. (If so, I’m placing the blame squarely on that deep-fried Hot Pocket.) But John McCain is starting to make sense.
Throw the collected works of Anne Rice into a blender, mix in an old Chris Isaak album and a couple of hours of Skinemax, garnish with a tiny Confederate flag and serve it to David Lynch on a Louisiana front porch on a sweltering afternoon.
Cable. It’s not just for summer anymore.
Walking onto the set of “Mad Men’s” Sterling Cooper — the famously decadent ’60s advertising agency at the heart of the Emmy’s most-nominated drama (10 p.m. Sundays, AMC) — you feel almost naked without a stiff drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and a girl from the steno pool to sexually harass.
Every parent’s nightmare.
Bringing a pop-culture icon to TV is full of so many pitfalls, “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles” star Thomas Dekker could be forgiven had he opted for something simpler. Like theoretical physics. Or explaining theoretical physics to Brooke Hogan.
You get the feeling that it’s only a matter of time before the Palms becomes thE! Palms.
At this point, Nye County really should just ban recording equipment altogether.
As you may have guessed by now, it takes something special to get me off the couch. Like the pizza delivery guy at the door. Or the smoke barreling out of the kitchen the next day when I forget I’m reheating what’s left of that pizza.
When it comes to the use of guns, I’m somewhere between Don Knotts and Duke Nukem.