Pardon me for breathing.

Attention, People of Earth: Touchstone releases eight character-specific and guide-themed posters for Hitchhiker’s. Also, some of y’all might have seen this extremely negative first review of the film over at Metafilter. Well, I’d take it with a grain of salt. Not only does this guy seem Marvin-like in the extreme, he has a nasty purist streak that rivals those of the most-impossible-to-satisfy Tolkien fans. At least in this corner, the jury’s still out.

Stella!

Last night, my sister and I went to go see the most recent revival of A Streetcar Named Desire, with Natasha Richardson as Blanche and John C. Reilly as Stanley. And, while I don’t claim to be an expert by any means — At the risk of looking like a rube, I’ll admit I went in with only vague impressions of the Brando-Leigh version, which I found had been interpolated, embarrassingly enough, with Cat on a Hot Tin Roof — I quite enjoyed it.

At turns willowy and brittle, Richardson’s Blanche DuBois has, as Michael Stipe once put it, that “knowing with a wink that we expect from Southern women.” A pampered schemer whose delicate flower act obscures the grim realizations borne of an all-too-tragic life, Blanche is a fading memory of the Old South — She seems lost without a mint julep in hand and completely out-of-place in rough-and-tumble post-war New Orleans. I expect Richardson’s take on the role is probably slightly less sympathetic than in some other versions — no one deserves Blanche’s horrible fate; nevertheless, Richardson’s DuBois, so insufferable at times in the early going, does an exemplary job in Act 1 of proving Benjamin Franklin’s adage that “fish and visitors stink after three days.”

For his part, John C. Reilly is also memorable as the vindictive, animalistic Stanley (although nobody would argue, except perhaps Stanley himself, that this iteration of Kowalski has any of Brando’s physical magnetism.) Reilly’s Stanley is a hard-living working-class schlub who becomes increasingly more dangerous as the “Every Man a King” prerogatives he expects of domestic life are affronted by Blanche’s continued presence. Most of the time, he sits coiled like a snake, bottle in hand…but, when the moment strikes, Reilly lashes out with a feral fury that’s all the more frightening for being unexpected (he’s definitely not the type of guy you want in your poker game.) And, when Stanley finally gains the upper hand on his unwanted houseguest, his predatory instincts take hold in brutal and remorseless fashion.

At any rate, a good show. I can’t compare it to earlier iterations of Tennessee Williams’ play, but I can say that Richardson, Reilly, and the rest of the cast at the very least do Streetcar justice.

Wave the Bloody Sock.

“Here is where I should describe for you my mixed emotions as a Sox diehard, how my very nature as a fan has been transformed, how much this means to me on countless levels both as a Red Sox obsessive and as a human being. But I won’t force you to endure that. Suffice it to say the ceremony was a thrill.” Friend Seth Stevenson achieves the closure he’s been waiting for all his life at the BoSox ring ceremony.

Griffin in the door?

Finally, a Dubya nominee I can get behind. At his confirmation hearing, Michael Griffin — the administration’s pick for head of NASA — suggests the Hubble may still be worth saving. “Griffin, a physicist-engineer who holds six advanced degrees, is known as a devotee of human space travel and a firm advocate of Bush’s ‘Vision for Space Exploration’ aimed at the moon and Mars…He bluntly expressed his intention to lead a resurgence in American ‘spacefaring,’ noting that Russia and China had both put humans into space since the space shuttle last flew.”

Bolting the Ranks.

“‘I’m as conservative as John Bolton is,’ Ford said. ‘But the fact is that the collateral damage and the personal hurt that he causes is not worth the price that had to be paid.'” A former State Department intelligence chief, described in the WP as “a loyal Republican, a staunch supporter of Bush and a ‘huge fan’ of Vice President Cheney,” entreats the Senate to reject Bolton as UN Ambassador. (Alas, the GOP members don’t seem to be biting.)

Plenty of time, no love or tenderness.

“In short, John Bolton came off as strikingly lacking in the credibility, values, and basic commitment that, especially these days, the job of U.N. ambassador requires.” Slate‘s Fred Kaplan, a frequent critic of Dubya’s freak show choice for UN ambassador, sizes up Bolton’s performance before the Senate today.

Ain’t Gonna Work on Maggie’s Farm No More.

“[F]or many investors Thatcher’s plan has fallen flat. Many investment funds charged huge commissions and fees, leaving contributors worse off than they would have been in the state system. The stock market collapse four years ago compounded their losses. Meanwhile, many private pension plans have gone bust, after companies drained those plans to pay off rising debts.” As England’s experience since Margaret Thatcher suggests, Dubya’s desired privatization of Social Security will likely cause more problems than it solves. (Somebody tell the nation’s business associations.)