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I’ll take one to go.

From the wonderful food blog, Food52.

Welcome to Stanley Kubrick Week on Million Dollar Movie.

Claire Quilty: I get the impression that you want to leave but you don’t like to because you think I think it looks suspicious, me being a policeman and all. You don’t have to think that because I haven’t got a suspicious mind at all. A lot of people think I’m suspicious, especially when I stand on street corners. One of our boys picked me up once. He thought that I was a little too suspicious standing on the street corner. Tell me, I couldn’t help noticing when you checked in tonight–It’s part of my job, I notice human individuals–and I noticed your face. I said to myself when I saw you, there’s a guy with the most normal-looking face I ever saw in my life. It’s great to see a normal face, ’cause I’m a normal guy. Be great for two normal guys to get together and talk about world events, in a normal way.

Peter Sellers is best remembered as Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther movies, but his artistic masterpiece is generally considered to be Dr. Strangelove. Sellers plays three characters in Stanley Kubrick’s dark, political satire. His performance is all that and them some and deserves all the praise it gets, but I believe Sellers’ accomplishment in Kubrick’s previous film, the 1962 adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov’s notorious book, Lolita, is just as fine—a comic actor at the height of his powers.

Sellers plays Claire Quilty, a pompous hipster playwright, the alter ego and nemesis to James Mason’s lustful professor, Humbert Humbert. “Are you with someone,” Humbert asks Quilty at one point. “I’m not with someone,” Quilty replies, “I’m with you.”

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Pass me my oxygen mask, would you dear?

Hey, y’all. Sorry for the delay in posting yesterday’s recap. It’ll be up jiffy. Then, we’re back to our regular schedule. Hold tight…

[Picture by Bags]

Gray haze, that’s how it be in the Bronx today.

Hot all over the asphalt jungle of New York as Sabathia and Santana square off at Yankee Stadium.

Sabathia had plenty of nothing last time he faced the Mets; here’s hoping he brings the rukus and the score truck.

Let’s go Yan-Kees!

[picture by Bags]

Big shout–much love, respected and admiration–to all the Old Men out there on Father’s Day.

Saturday night in New York. A Yankee win. How civilized.

Continue to be cool.

One time.

[Pictures by Bags]

Man, it’s a hot one out there. Damned Mets are hot, while the Yanks are decidedly not.

Still, the Bombers remain tied for first place with the Rays. The Can’t-You-Hear-Me-Knockin’ Sox are just a game back.

Hope everyone is staying cool.

[Picture by Bags]

Wally Wood

Wrapping up boxing week, here’s one that Diane suggested:

And, well, I couldn’t resist…

It’s the season, man, and my oh my, how I do adore cherry pie….(Hey, Now)

The projector is broken, so no show today. We’ll be back on Monday for Stanley Kubrick Week. The plan is to do a theme week in this space, if not every week, then every other week. So if you’ve got any suggestions, feel free to let us know and we’ll do our best to soup it up. It doesn’t have to only be for an actor or a director. It could be for a cinematographer or just a theme–Worst Date Movies, Laugh-Out-Loud Movies, Best Late Night Movies–you name it.

Whadda ya hear, whadda ya say?

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen as unsightly a Game 7 as the one played last night between the Lakers and Celtics for the NBA title. At one point, Jeff Van Gundy said that it was one of the worst displays of offensive execution and one of the hardest, toughest defensive efforts too. The defense played by both teams was terrific, and the offense was horrid. Hear that clang? More paint being chipped off the rim. Kobe Bryant, Ray Allen, name the player, they all missed a ton of shots. Ron Artest turned out to be one of the heroes for the Lakers and he missed a lot of shots too (it is somehow fitting that a junkyard dog like Artest would be the key to victory in such an ugly game).

It was the kind of game that made you want to sit up and yell at the TV, “Can’t anybody make a jump shot?”

Bryant didn’t only miss, he forced the action and took bad shots in traffic. He turned the ball over. Phil Jackson said that Byrant was pressing; after the game, Bryant, who was named the Finals MVP, said that he was exhausted. It would have gone down as his worst moment as a pro had the Lakers lost. But the Celtics didn’t bury Los Angeles when they had the chance–up nine, up thirteen–and in the end the Lakers were just too long, and they dominated the boards.

Sure, the Lakers got some calls, but for the most part the refs let both teams play. And in the end, the Lakers survived their own offensive futility by hitting a few big shots down the stretch (including the expected lollipop three pointer from Derek Fisher) and finally made their free-throws.

It wasn’t pretty at all. In fact, this game felt like the demon child of the Pistons-Knicks Era style of mug-’em hoops. By the middle of the forth quarter, all of the players looked more like heavyweight fighters in the 15th round, as if they were moving under water. It was an agonizing game to watch, and yet as bad as the offense was, the game was always competitive, never boring. And the entire season came down to the final minutes between the Lakers and Celtics. In our imaginations it should have looked better, prettier, more spectacular, but you couldn’t have asked for more passion or determination.

Just for someone to nail an open jumper.

Lastly, great night for Queens, so okay, Ron Ron, I’ll say it: Queensbridge, baby:

[Photo Credit: Ronald Martinez, Jae C. Hong, Christian Petersen, Lisa Blumenfeld: Getty Images]

Yanks go for the series win tonight with Andy Pettitte on the hill. Game 7 of the NBA Finals later…Here’s hoping for a good sports night.

[Picture by Larry Roibal]

Let’s Go Yan-Kees!

You can get with this:

Or you can get with that:

The Choice is Yours.

I grew up with the Roger Moore Bond but think Connery was vastly superior.

John Buscema

This is one of my favorite comic book covers…

Wax Poetics via the Washington Post:

Shaved ice gets fancy.

[Photo Credit: Life Magazine]

This one isn’t in the new book of boxing poetry and song lyrics but still, Uncle L’s crossover hit is still worth dropping here:

Dear Todd,

The wife and I sat in your box seats last night and we thought of you. Before the first pitch, she turns to me and goes, “There’s no other place in the world I’d rather be right now–at the ballgame, with a hot dog and my honey.” Bro, how lucky am I? I’d like to think Marsha told you the same thing when you guys were at the game too.

Sitting to our left were two older women who live near where you grew up in Syracuse, New York. They were in town for the game, decked-out in Yankee gear–shirts, jackets, and hats. They wore Yankee bracelets on their wrists, and brought their own popcorn.

Your boy AJ Burnett pitched and he stunk up the jernt. After the game, Posada blamed himself saying that the two of them couldn’t get on the same page. AJ couldn’t control his breaking ball, walked a bunch of guys, gave up a couple of dingers–including one that was worth watching from Ryan Howard. The last straw came when he didn’t cover first base on a ground ball to Teixeira–it’s hard to believe you left us before you could watch Tex play first for the Yanks.

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