The Underage-Sex Reverse Richter Scale

BAKER STREET

by Eric J Baker

Editor’s Note: This marks the 100th post on the PFC blog, which wouldn’t mean much if this were TMZ with a dozen fluffy gossip posts an hour, but a PFC piece requires a lot of TLC to create.  It’s only appropriate that Eric Baker take this honor because it is he who kicked us over the 4,000-views-a-day mark on Friday with his Duran Duran story.  — James Killough

We were talking movie directors here the other day (actually, I was talking movie directors and Killough was like, “Yeah whatever, Baker—shut the fuck up—I know”) and Roman Polanski came up, not for his movies but for his marriage to Sharon Tate. The Polanski-Tate union suffered from the dreaded Billy Joel-Christie Brinkley syndrome years before medical science had even identified the disease, which occurs when an ugly, talented man marries a beautiful, possibly talented, but who cares, she’s a goddess, woman. And Sharon Tate was a goddess.

But, Sharon, why Frodo? WHY?

You may know that Tate was murdered in 1969 by Charles Manson’s gang and that Polanski went on to perpetrate a sexual act against a 13-year-old girl in the mid 1970s.

I’m Too Sexy For My Car

BAKER STREET

 by Eric J Baker

Welcome to Pure Film Creative or, as I like to think of it, Tiger Beat for intellectuals (and perverts; you know which one you are).

Regular readers of these pages will often find us opining on who is sexy (Ashton Kutcher, Duran Duran, Mary Elizabeth Winstead) and who is not (Killough’s former landlady Susan Blais, Russell Crowe, pre-Raphaelite painters). It’s easy to do when you’re talking about movie stars and fashionable pop bands, since good looks are a prerequisite for such roles in society. With political figures, the distinction is murkier. Much like the sewage most of them crawled from.

What's not sexy about an Aussie thug in a tub with a stogie, a brew and phone he's about to brain the hotel maid with?

I don’t find ugly liars attractive, but I seem to be in the minority. Last week, before the shocking truth exploded, I wrote on PFC that Anthony Weiner couldn’t have e-mailed his cock-bulge photo to a 22-year-old woman because he’s not that dumb. What I thought, but didn’t write was, “Who the fuck wants to see Anthony Weiner’s dick, anyway?”

The Dead Shall Rock The Earth

BAKER STREET

by Eric J Baker

Zombies are dead.

Well, of course they’re dead, but I speak in terms of pop culture trends. The second season of AMC’s TV series The Walking Dead is alleged to return in the fall, and Milla Jovovich threatens a fifth Resident Evil movie for 2012, proving that audiences in overseas markets will watch anything that’s filmed in English. So that’s something. Right?

Milla will eat your brains, too.

Maybe not. An IMDb scan of this summer’s wide-release movie titles doesn’t turn up a single case of the zed word. Hell, when George Romero, the guy who invented the modern zombie film, can’t get an undead flick into wide release, it’s time to shoot this genre in the head. His 2009 entry, Survival of the Dead, grossed a massive $54,000 in its opening weekend. That’s less than Charlie Sheen spends on hookers every Saturday.

Good God, I just made a Jay Leno joke. Is this what rock bottom feels like?

Better Sex Through Duran Duran

BAKER STREET

By Eric J Baker

People say men only think about one thing. Getting laid. This is a common fallacy. Men think about two other things as well:

1. The times we already got laid (go us!).

2. The times we could have gotten laid but blew it.

The second one is the worst. Those are the times Charles Dickens was talking about, opposite the best times (see number 1, above). All men have at least one of those bad times to look back on with regret.

Given recent surges to the PFC blog when shirtless men are the lead picture, we have regrettably had to post one of someone named Eric Dane in place of Simon Le Bon, who went from twig thin to porky in no time flat. We apologize to Baker for gaying him, but he is in a minority.

Like when Deidre, for example, the girl you fancied at the cutlery store across from your accounting office, came to tell you she just broke up with her boyfriend Ted and wanted to do something crazy. That very night. Instead of asking, “What time to you get off work,” you gave her a business card for the suicide prevention hotline. You wondered why she didn’t visit you anymore.

Rock Saved The Queen

BAKER STREET

By Eric J Baker

Anyone who has seen a Mel Gibson movie knows that the English are pure evil.

In Braveheart (1995), King Edward the Utter Bastard spends his days raiding Scottish villages and his nights raiding Scottish panties, much to the chagrin of one William Wallace. Not to be outdone, a total rotter named William Tavington shows up in The Patriot (2000) to burn down a church full of parishioners during the early days of the American Revolution. And who can forget The Passion of the Christ (2004), in which the usurper, King Richard III, locks Jesus in the Tower of London so he can take His place at the right hand of God?

The Brits killed Jesus and then made a film about it, "Life of Brian," which was not very funny, but because every snickering geek thought Monty Python was hilarious no matter what they, did you sort of chuckled along with it. Lame. It was a case of the emperor has no jokes.

I think it was Posh Spice who said, “With great evil comes great invention.” Or maybe it was me. I forget. But it’s true, is it not? The Nazis invented rocket engines. The Soviets put the first man into orbit, Yuri Sputnik. That kid invented Facebook. Given that Great Britain is the hub of all that is wicked, it’s no wonder the English are responsible for some of the most game-changing inventions in human history, like…for instance, the… the…um…