I haven't seen a lot of movies this year (still need to see "The Queen," "The Departed," and "Letters from Iwo Jima"), so it's fainter praise than deserved that the dystopia-themed "Children of Men" is the best movie I've seen in 2006. The reviews that don't like it complain about the lack of exposition, but the fact that the movie treats its audience as intelligent enough not to need spoon feeding was one of the things I liked most about it. Yeah, there are a lot of interesting things happening off-screen I would have been curious to see fleshed out, but they're not necessary to the structure of the movie, and Cuaron doesn't let them get in the way. Every frame is dense with subtle supporting detail that creates an immersive universe of a post-apocalyptic 2027; the exposition is visual, rather than verbal, a refreshing change of pace from the "message" monologues of most Hollywood movies. The acting, led by Clive Owen and Michael Caine, is superb. (We are fortunate if indeed Emma Watson's scheduling conflict prevented her from playing Kee; the movie is much better for the choice of Claire-Hope Ashitay.) I could take issue with the ending (the movie would have worked better for me without the last sixty seconds or so, though that would have changed the meaning), but the plot and the missing "why"s are not so much the thing as the amazing set pieces. There are two single-take shots in this movie that movie buffs are going to be talking about for decades the way they do about the "Goodfellas" Copacabana scene or the opening scene of "The Player" or the El Rancho nightclub scene in "Citizen Kane." Don't read the reviews: the less you know about the movie going in, the better.

"Next week's 'Sacred Games,' a 916-page novel described as the 'Godfather' of India and set in the seamy underworld of Mumbai, comes from a relatively unknown author. Last year, it became the subject of a bidding war that won author Vikram Chandra a $1 million advance." -- WSJ

Weird tale of Chris Brown, the erratic 1980s journeyman third baseman, who appears to have killed himself in an arson in Sugar Land.

Via cousin Garance's blogroll, Trulia is a wonderful application of Google maps to real estate listings. It finds that year-over-year price/sq.ft. in Arlington have increased 8%, which is a better indicator than the possibly misleading median sales price.

Even puppies.

'Cuz someone using that name mistakenly wrote something funny (via Radosh).

Dunder-Mifflin desktop.

As quasi-endorsed by NBA star Carmelo Anthony (via Throwing Things).

New-look Archie.

Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes.

If one believes this life expectancy calculator (and would the Internet lie?), I have 30 years to live, though that's up from 22.9 years to live this time last year.

Update: better news from this MSN Money calculator, which gives me 33 years vs. 26, but it didn't ask me about my HDL. Wharton's figures: 33.3 years vs. 21.8. "Livingto100.com", which appears to be the most comprehensive if also the most optimistic and ferrophobic: 39 years vs. 29 years. (Advice from that last site: donate blood once every eight weeks to duplicate the health benefits of menstruation and reduce iron levels. I'm skeptical.) The consensus appears to be that this has been a good year for my health, getting my LDL cholesterol and blood pressure to normal levels, and dropping my BMI another 4 points.

Cecil Adams knocks down the urban legend of James Bartley, who allegedly survived being swallowed whole by a whale. While humans can hypothetically fit down a whale's throat, there doesn't appear to be any record of survival in doing so: suffocation would be an issue, if not stomach acid.

You know how really obsessive fans of tv shows will construct elaborate explanations to reconcile continuity errors made by the writers? Yeah, there are whole Bible websites devoted to the same concept, and they have to resort to "It was a miracle!" to explain Jonah, which in my mind is further evidence of the absence of evidence of modern-day whale-swallowee survivors. The nice thing about religious literature is that the reader can't legitimately complain about the use of deus ex machina.

(Such plot contrivances explain my problem with "Buffy" and the last three seasons of "The West Wing," my reluctance to start watching "Lost," and why I suspect I will be ultimately disappointed by "Heroes.")

Entertainingly, the site refuses to accept the story of Jonah as an allegory, but is happy to explain away "three days and three nights" as "perhaps as little as 38 hours," the sort of hairsplitting I thought was unique to Talmudic traditions and Louisiana judges.

As long as I'm feeling old, here is a set of 1982 videogame ads. Note that, a quarter century ago, a page-long block of text was a means to persuade people to spend money. (Inspired by Marcotte's link to this Gawker post; and I've surely mentioned that John Hodgman's book was the best humor I read this year, and his obscure George Plimpton shout-out (which I recognized at the time) only made me love him all the more.)

Movie version of "A Confederacy of Dunces" in development hell.

Evidence of recent human evolution.

Is there a definitive answer what Crispin Glover was up to on Letterman in 1987?

Here.

Note to self: don't tell Slim about the new banana donut store.

LAN3 thinks I have a guacamole-dip-style class-action against the Big Wasabi conglomerate.

Speaking of wasabi, the Farragut Square kaiten (conveyor-belt-sushi) restaurant Wasabi opened this summer, and provides marginally acceptable sushi, though with substandard service. Rather overpriced for what one gets (Sushi Taro is much better for not much more), but one is paying for convenience and somewhat higher quality than the sushi rolls at the deli. The takeout is perhaps a better option (though with a very narrow selection), especially now that Naan and Beyond has raised its prices. Two other kaitens have opened up in the last year (including one in Ballston), but I haven't been yet.

Separately, Tyler gives a rave review to India Curry House in Clarendon. I had gone the first week it was open, and was so underwhelmed that I felt too sad to bad-mouth it. I guess I'll have to try it again.

If only I had thought of this, I might have been able to afford to go to Yale or Yale Law School.

My father told me about a local Houston furniture store that offered free furniture to anyone who bought over a certain amount over the weekend if the hapless Houston Texans football team beat the then-undefeated Indianapolis Colts in Indianapolis. It must have moved some furniture, and certainly got the store free publicity, so a Southern California furniture store tried the same tactic when the mediocre UCLA Bruins played the #2-ranked USC Trojans, who had won seven straight matchups in the cross-town rivalry, and were a 11-to-13 point favorite. Oops.

I had presumed the Houston store hedged its 50-50 bet with customers by putting a few thousand dollars on the underdog moneyline in Las Vegas, but there's no mention of that in the LA Times story.

Notwithstanding Michael Crichton, blondes aren't dying out.

Problems when the Wii remote escapes.

The CD logo dies, and is replaced with an ugly Scrabble word.