For those of you who have not heard the news, Menu Foods is recalling certain brands of their “wet” cat and dog foods. Avoid the hysterical media hype (”Owners Frantic Over Pet Food Recall”) and go to the PetSmart site for factual, easy-to-undertand information on the recall.

And, thanks to The Fat Lady Sings for emailing me this information.

*bimbles off*

Warning: Some spoilers for “300″ are contained in this post.

For those of us who suffered through the cinematic trainwreck that was “Spawn” the movie, the words “based on a graphic novel” after a movie title tend to solicit mixed feelings. At best, you’re going to be in for a decent movie, mostly faithful to the comic’s original flavor and tone, with actors who aren’t mucking around in the bottom of the Hollywood acting gene pool – “Hellboy,” “V for Vendetta,” “Batman Begins” and “Spiderman” are recent examples. At worst, you’ve got any Batman movie prior to Christian Bale walking on the set, Halle Berry in a catsuit and the stomach-churning “Aeon Flux” – the latter for which I’m still waiting for a duel at dawn with the producers. It’s a crap shoot on whether you’ll walk out of the theater thinking you’ve been entertained or wondering how Keanu Reeves managed to turn impersonating wood into a full-time career.

I went to see “300″ on Friday without having read the comic, based solely on the fact it was written by Frank Miller, same guy who wrote “Sin City.” I thought “Sin City” was a hoot, aside from the fact that Jessica “Stare At My Tits” Alba is doggedly trying to upsurp Kate Blakenstare as the most untalented actress on the planet who still gets acting gigs and grinds on my last nerve. And, my friend LuRK3R raved about it for hours. I assumed my life would be less than happy if I missed it.

I also went alone. Because I married a weenie. And, lest you think I’m being a tad harsh, JS will admit he’s a weenie when it comes to any kind of violent movies. A big, ol’ weenie. Hell, he left the room during “March of the Penguins.” I have an extensive collection of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriquez movies. He owns “The Incredibles.” I laugh during “Boondock Saints” and think “From Dusk Til Dawn” is one of the best pieces of camp ever produced. JS can’t sit through a “Grindhouse” preview on TV. Go figure.

I can’t remember the reviewer’s name, but of “300″ he wrote “…. it’s good to know some filmmakers remember ‘mindless fun’ does not have to equal ‘bad movie.’” I totally agree with that. I mean, when Queen Gorgo coldly guts a council member on the council chamber floor, in front of the other members, because he doublecrosses her and calls a “whore queen,” and this is greeted with wild cheering (and one hearty “Boo-YA!”) from the audience, you know you’ve been fucking entertained. Plus, you also know while Spartan men are big and tough and stuff, never, ever doublecross the women. They may suffer through wearing gauze held together by bits of leather, but they’ll eat you for lunch in a heartbeat.

“300″ is what it is – an utterly violent, gorgeously produced film with an actual storyline and actors who aren’t laboring under the delusion there is an Oscar waiting for them. They deliver solidly, especially Gerard Butler, who I’m afraid is now hopelessly going to be locked into roles requiring him to look in horrid disgust at someone and then kill them without remorse. Probably a lot of Viking movies in his future. It’s not a high-caliber, Merchant Ivory film. You can see some events coming a mile away. For example, when the captain’s son shows up, all young and cute but intense and ready for battle, you know you’ll be watching his gruesome death in slow motion sometime before the film ends. You know who the traitor is on the council five minutes into the movies. You know the disfigured Spartan whom King Leonidas turns away from the army will join the enemy and betray their position.

Although I now want to know how the Hunchback of Notre Dame’s role in the Sparatan’s war got left out of the history books. I mean, really. And, while I’m firmly in the camp of more movies with well-toned, half-naked men running in slow motion being made, I wanted to shout “You wanna save your country? Wear some goddamned armor, you bloody dolts!” I figured my logic would be lost on the crowd.

These points aside, I was thoroughly entertained. I laughed at the bits that were supposed to be funny, rooted for the noble Spartans, booed the Persian king (who looks a lot like RuPaul in bad jewelry) and got all teary-eyed when the Gorgo receives word of her husband’s death. Oh, and I highly recommend seeing this at an IMAX theater if you get a chance. Because when Leonidas screams “This. Is. Sparta.!” you want to be close enough to see him almost spit when he says it.

*bimbles off*

P.S. Dilios, the soldier who is sent home after losing an eye to tell Gorgo of Leonidas’ death is David Wenham, who played Faramir in the last two “Lord of the Rings” movies. I say this because, if you’re like me, you’ll spend the entire movie wondering just WHO that guy is and then have to look it up when you get home lest your brain implode. You’re welcome.

Because sleep is becoming more elusive these days and stupid things look even more absurb late at night…..

Reverend: Treat Homosexuality in the Womb

The president of the leading Southern Baptist seminary has incurred sharp attacks from both the left and right by suggesting that a biological basis for homosexuality may be proven, and that prenatal treatment to reverse gay orientation would be biblically justified.

I got a better idea. Let’s develop a prenatal treatment for narrow-minded, stupid religious zealots.

From the “Making a Living Off Anna Nicole’s Dead Corpse” File – Zsa Zsa Gabor’s Husband Sues Bill O’Reilly

Prince Frederic von Anhalt has sued Fox and Bill O’Reilly after the talk show host called him a fraud for claiming he could be the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s baby.

I don’t know what’s harder to believe – this guy SUES because someone questions his wildly low moral fiber or that he thinks ANYONE believes anything that comes out of Bill O’Reilly’s mouth.

Simon Crowell claims he’s bigger than Bruce Springsteen.

“I sell more records than Bruce Springsteen, sure,” Cowell says of the 57-year-old rocker, who signed a contract that was reported to be in the neighborhood of $100 million.” I mean, in the last five years, I’ve probably sold over 100 million records. If (Springsteen) got one hundred (million dollars), I should have got five hundred (million dollars),” he says.

Can’t we just set this egotisical piece of crap on fire? I mean, really? He’s a judge on American Idol, for christ’s sake, the worst piece of television since the gods invented “reality” shows. He makes his living by telling people they suck and arguing with Paula Abdul. Paula Fucking Abdul, who should have disappeared 20 years ago along with her ability to make money by claiming to be a “singer.”

*bimbles off*

God, I hope I find one of these coins. It would be fun to actually own one of the signs of the Apocalypse.

*bimbles off*

…. because my hands smelled like gasoline.

Note to self: Never wait until the day of a big interview to fill up the car with gas.

*bimbles off*