Stacy McCain is Funnier Than a Chimp on Phenobarbitols

Ripping the newsblogs, and the whole profession of journalism, a new one, with the same joke.

My point is that there is nothing wrong with 21st-century journalism except (a) the continued existence of the Columbia Journalism Reviewand (b) the shortage of good, cheap mescaline. And if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem. IYKWIMAITYD.

Journalists are a degree below lawyers in my book, in that I can concieve of circumstances wherein I might need the services of a lawyer.

If McCain keeps this up, I might just change my opinion of Hunter Thompson enough to read some of his crap besides the Las Vegas dope trip. Probably not The Rum Diary, however. If the movie was that bad, the book must be wretched.

The Rum Diary Sinks Like a Rummy in a Large Pool of Rum

I was wondering how this film was doing. Over at PopCrush, the inestimable James Lileks lays it out for us:

Meanwhile, heads are scratching: why did it tank? Bad week for small films? Depp’s appeal on the wane? People like him only when he’s piratical? Perhaps because word of mouth was like halitosis: The movie got a C minus from people who actually saw it, and Hunter S. Thompson’s appeal may not be as universal as some suspect.

The last part is undoubtedly true. I’ve long considered Thompson to be massively overrated, bordering on the laughable. But then, I’m only going by Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and his excreable column from his later years (“The Vikings struggled back like a drunk who doesn’t know who just hit him, but the deep dark doom was upon them…” ad infinitum). However, I just plain doubt that your average moviegoing audience even knew that this was a Thompson book. To make a film of The Rum Diary is, cinematically speaking, to make a prequel to F&LILV. Yet the studio didn’t market it as such.

Curiouser and curiouser.

They also didn't offer a free rum runner to every patron over 21. Which would have been fun.