Wolfowitz’s last hunt?

“‘The staff were absolutely horrified by what seemed to be the Bush administration’s disdain for a clear-cut case of corruption at the bank,’ said one official.” Paul Wolfowitz’s tenure at the World Bank looks to enter its final hours after the Bank’s Board turns down an attempt by the White House to save face and the Dubya administration begins cutting its losses.

“This is not about fairness.”

“That is asinine. It’s no way to run a sport.” Salon‘s King Kaufman (among others) has some harsh words for David Stern and the NBA concerning the recent 1-game suspensions meted out against Phoenix as a result of Robert Horry’s body-check of Steve Nash. I’m inclined to agree. Why is San Antonio being rewarded for Horry’s cheap shot? And, let’s not forget, the same thing happened to the Knicks ten years ago when PJ Brown started a fight with Charlie Ward in the 1997 playoffs, and it was idiotic back then too. Will the league never learn?

Falwell’s that Ends Well.

Jerry Falwell, 1933-2007. My thoughts on this are basically the same as on Strom’s passing in 2003, and once again I’d refer everyone to Hunter S. Thompson’s Nixon obit. Of course, it’s bad form to speak ill of the dead…still, I’m sure countless people and pets around the world passed yesterday who are more deserving of eulogy than this contemptible, hypocritical bigot. Let’s just hope, for Falwell’s sake, that God is more compassionate and forgiving than he ever was.

Tony in Freefall.

There is no pain, he is receding…With last night’s chilling episode (and only three more to go), Tony Soprano’s descent seems to gain momentum (and a major character met a surprising end.) I’m still confused as to what to make of Tony’s peyote-induced realization in the final moments of the episode. Thoughts?

Tangled Up in Black.

Sam Raimi’s Spiderman 3, which I saw a week ago, before this recent illness descended in earnest, is — as you likely already know — a disappointment. Both undercooked and overstuffed, it oftens feels like a Sequel-By-Numbers, the creation of a boardroom of comic-book-ignorant Sony suits who sat down and watched the splendid Spiderman 2, brainstormed for two hours about what its main selling points were, and tried to add 20% more of each to Spidey 3. The end result, as Joseph II might say, has too many notes. There occasionally seems to be a decent, heartfelt Sam Raimi Spidey foray struggling to get out in here somewhere, but it’s mostly wrapped up and powerless against the black suit of the corporate bottom line. I highly doubt this film will be the end of Spiderman, after that outrageous opening weekend take, but it does sadly suggest that it may be time for Raimi & co. to escape Spidey’s web and take a break from the franchise.

In true comic-book fashion, Spiderman 3 begins basically where the last installment left off, with Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson (Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst, both of whom seem bored) in love, his secret identity out to her. But, just as our friendly neighborhood webslinger begins to contemplate wedding bells in his future, a slew of supervillains rise up to disturb Spidey’s domestic peace: The Green Goblin II (James Franco, putting in his best work of the series), who’s also aware of Spidey’s identity and is out to avenge his father’s death; The Sandman (Thomas Haden Church, good with what he’s given), who’s out to find his daughter some quality affordable health care (good luck! Even fantasy has limits); and, most troubling, Venom (ultimately, Topher Grace, a likable actor that sadly doesn’t work here), an oozing alien symbiote that first draws out Spiderman’s dark side before congealing with his biggest rival at the Daily Bugle, photoshop expert Eddie Brock. Eventually, Spidey must find a way not only to beat back this rogues’ gallery before doom befalls Ms. Watson high above Manhattan, but also come to terms with his darkest impulses, grapple with his deepfelt desire to cut a rug in a jazz club, and make Mary Jane feel important and special despite her withholding secrets from Peter most of the movie for unexplainable reasons. Can he pull it off, Spider-fans?

Maybe so, but the movie sure can’t. If that litany of villains put you in mind of the later installments of the Batman franchise, Batman Forever or Batman and Robin, you’re in the right ballpark. Basically, Raimi has too many balls in the air this time around (I haven’t even mentioned Gwen Stacey, who’s also in here for some reason), and the film just can’t do justice to all of them. The Sandman in particular is given short shrift — much time is devoted to giving him a backstory, but it gets dropped halfway through and never amounts to much. Meanwhile, other important plot points, such as how Spidey’s enemies decide to gang up on him, are handled perfunctorily, apparently to make room for more wet blanket Mary Janeisms or badly-conceived comedy involving J. Jonah Jameson (J.K. Simmons). By the end of the film, when Harry Osborne’s butler becomes Basil Exposition and Spiderman runs around without a mask in front of hundreds of cameras, the carelessness taken with this installment of the franchise becomes manifest. Raimi would likely have done better to leave Venom out of this episode and saved him for the next one (and, indeed, circumstantial evidence suggests that Venom was foisted on him by Sony — Raimi wanted the Vulture.) As it is, though, Spiderman 3 is a swing-and-a-miss — not as bad as X3, mind you, but definitely the worst outing thus far in the Spidey franchise. ‘Nuff said.

The Bite of Spring.

Yes, quiet around here again…I’ve been acting as a nice, warm incubator for this nasty flu bug for over a week now, and have generally spent the last seven days trying to hack up a lung, breathing haphazardly through a wall of phlegm, and/or lying on the couch in a Nyquil stupor. The good news is I’m feeling slightly better today, although I’m still clearly sick…if it doesn’t continue to significantly improve by Wednesday, I’m going to look into procuring some antibiotics. Oh, what fun.

Mr. Orange, meet Mr. Green.

I have to say, I continue to be completely thrown by what’s emerging from Louis Leterrier’s Incredible Hulk do-over. Now joining Ed Norton as Bruce Banner are Liv Tyler as the love interest (Betty Ross, a.k.a. Jennifer Connelly in the Ang Lee version) and, more interestingly, Tim Roth as the villain, Emil Blonsky a.k.a. Abomination. Norton v. Roth in a chew-and-smash-the-scenery contest? That should be great fun.

The Simi Valley Ten.

Is this it? Is this all you can conjure, Republicans? Perhaps it was because I was feeling mighty under the weather when catching up with it on TiVo, but last Thursday’s GOP debate was more than a little underwhelming. Of the top tier, Mitt Romney probably acquitted himself the best: He seemed a bit blow-dried and canned, sure, but we were at the Reagan library, after all, and he didn’t do anything to hurt his standing as a front-runner with money to burn. Frankly, John McCain‘s act seemed stale to me: The “Gates of Hell” notwithstanding, he seemed to possess little-to-none of the from-the-gut, truth-to-power charisma that propelled him through 2000. (And his pained, convoluted stance on Iraq — everything got screwed up for years but now we’re hunky-dory — doesn’t make a lick of sense.) Rudy Giuliani proved once again that he’s a better candidate in theory than in practice, and I don’t see his half-hearted shrug over Roe V. Wade playing too well to the conservative cheap seats. (Let’s not forget, three of these ten folks — Brownback, Huckabee, Tancredo — wouldn’t even admit to believing in evolution.) Speaking of which, Mike Huckabee and Sam Brownback seemed like the two among the rest with the best shot to jump up a notch, particularly as either could conceivably become the favorite son of the Dobson wing of the party. Ron Paul’s ardent libertarianism was a surprising X-factor in the debate, and I thought it was kinda fun to have him around. (He also came across better, IMO, than the Dem’s official monkey wrench, Mike Gravel.) Jim Gilmore, Tommy Thompson, Tom Tancredo, Duncan Hunter? Meh. If I were Fred Thompson, I wouldn’t be dissuaded from a run by this lot. I mean, the GOP field already looks like one of those WaMu ads with the gang of disgruntled bankers (Indeed, an Obama-and-GOP Youtube remix seems inevitable) — why not add one more to the mix?

Probably the most telling fact of the evening was the dog that didn’t bark: Dubya. Watching these ten prominent Republicans squirm and equivocate every time anyone mentioned the president and his current policies tells you everything you need to know about 2008 — After eight years of GOP mismanagement and corruption, the election is the Dems to lose.