If the beginning of your year is like ours, it's jam-packed as ever with new rules, hopes and promises of good behavior... all made mostly in vain. With clear eyes, we make resolutions we're sure to break almost immediately and jot down lists of unrealistic goals that are soon to be lost behind a desk somewhere.
The first few weeks are, at their heart, a fantasy of sorts. In that spirit, instead of starting the year off with a list of the films we all know will be huge in 2013 (A Good Day to Die Hard or The Lone Ranger with Johnny Depp for example), we've elected to begin on a more idealistic foot with a quick look at the deserving few we hope to be seeing a whole lot more of in the year to come. Mark your calendars!
Best of Hookers Reel 2007-2008
Greetings* earth people … the Dude is not in.* Where is he? Not sure, a privacy clause in his contract prohibits us from asking but we’re laying bets.
A) MRF’s gone fishing.
B) MRF’s finishing his pilot script for his TV series.
C) MRF’s building a state-of-the-art Iron Suit to battle terrorists.
D) MRF’ digging through Peruvian tombs in search of Conquistador mummies.
Greetings and salutations* film nerds from the “Delirium Tremems Suite” at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel where legend has it, tinsel town rummies like F. Scott Fitzgerald, John “the Profile” Barrymore and Errol “N Like” Flynn once yakked their weight in cocktail onions after beer bonging many martinis through Kong’s top hat at the 1934 Academy Awards.
All those scoundrels (including Kong) died of liver failure and went to hell, but MRF’s gonna live forever! Right? Fock me. I gotta lie down ... What are you still in the hall, make a drink, please. Keeping with tradition, behold the debauched splendor of the present, the infamous DT Suite (i.e. thrashed pool cabana #217) still smoldering from the Cinco de Mayo fiesta Hooker’s Reel threw to celebrate the premier of my friends’ movie the Foot Fist Way…
Greetings and salutations* film nerds from 200 feet below the grassy, peacock-laden Aspen, Colorado compound of the late, great mad GZA himself Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. What the hell’s a swanky SF urbanite like the Maestro doing spelunking down a dead man’s godforsaken wishing well after dark? If you Nosy Parkers must know, I’m dangling from a climbing rope (sporting an E.R.I. headlamp) and gripping a treasure map written on the back of an Allman Brothers album all for a good cause man …
Hearty greetings from the second stateliest concrete erection in Washington D.C. proper. I’m not talking about the Washington Monument, Mayor Berry’s highrise crackpipe-in-the-sky or Clinton’s curved trouser bubba, I’m talking historic doorsteps film nerds where the tiny wastrel actor Mickey Rooney once uttered the famous Ruthian line, “This is the house the Mickster built …”