Krist Knows What He's Doing

Krist Novoselic, the one from Nirvana who didn't blow his brains out or go on to form Foo Fighters, is to run for the position of Lieutenant Governor in Seattle next year. If he's that bored, maybe he should have considered running a blog? And because Parallax View has pretensions to political punditry, my considered advice on his pursuit of holding purse-strings rather than bass-strings is this: ditch the hat, pardner!

Maybe it's the seasonal air but people are coming over all spontaneous everywhere, it seems, as Graybo makes a special announcement. Clearly Dickie Ashcroft had no clue about wot he sung - the drugs do work, after all. Can I be the first to say that the upcoming wedding to his Danish sizzler is a case of Hel's Bells?

All this wacky spontaneity sounds like fun - but wait! - it comes with a health warning. Take Chloe Sevigny for example, who was indulging in some 'horseplay' with current beau (fashion designer) Matt Damhave when she 'fell off her Balenciaga boots' resulting in her losing four front teeth. Anyways, given Sevigny's recent propensity for onscreen blowjobs, this shouldn't harm her career at all.

Not that Chloe's on her own in giving her all for her art (thank goodness) as A-List actresses are getting their kit off like it's going out of, um, fashion this winter and quel horreur! look set to be rewarded with Oscar nominations for their troubles. This might seem a bit like old news 35 years after Glenda Jackson won her Oscar for her overexposed role in Women In Love, but any news story that gives you the heads-up that Jennifer Connelly is getting naked in her next movie (House Of Sound And Fog - and that fog had better not be too damn thick) deserves our awe and respect.

Whatever, one thing these bold and talented young women giving their Golden Globes a little natural air-conditioning needn't worry about is showing up on Film Threat's List Of The Top 50 Frigid People in Hollywood. (Vin) Deisel and anti-freeze still don't mix, apparently.

The New Star Spangles CD just got, um, bazooka'd! It's like the new (micro)wave never happened. James doesn't waste all his time confusing culinary equipment with CD players though - he also takes bad photos of The Strokes at Alexandra Palace. Julian will be so pissed he didn't catch his good side.

The Naked Maja contains no nudity whatsoever, but it does include a sneak preview at the two upcoming Lambchop albums due out (Guns 'n' Roses style) February.

Meanwhile Lesbo Pig are a new band (to me, at any rates) drawing comparisons to 80s college-girl faves The Marine Girls, although in this month's issue of Careless Talk Costs Lives they insist that alcohol remains their primary influence. E-mail the girls and £3 gets you a CD with 16 songs over 21 minutes. Also worth noting is that the sapphic sows support Scout Niblett in Oxford on December 18. Tickets available from here.

Before I go, I ought also to offer congratulations to my local soccer team, non-league Telford United who made it into the 3rd round proper of the FA Cup following an emphatic 3-0 mauling of Division 2 side Brentford yesterday. I've never personally watched Telford win a FA Cup tie so it was probably just as well I didn't go.

Meanwhile, I can't let you go without tonight's addition to Mason and Dixon watch. Pages 199-213 find Mason vulnerable following the death of his 'protector' Bradley, and manipulated into accepting a job over in the States. His family don't give him any latitude over his longitude project and advise him that in order to support his children, the brats will need to go to work for his father's bakery business (presumably they kneaded the dough) while he is away. Mason reluctantly agrees after a tense face-off with his dad, who advises him he'll never have any luck with the ladeez if he continues his obsession with poorly-paid astronomy work. This is then followed by some maudlin musings on the necessarily difficult nature of father/son relationships which tries to see things (Hey! Nostredamus style) from crusty old dad's viewpoint. Mason doesn't appreciate the ear-bashing though, and would have preferred a cob on his noggin like he used to get.

Hopefully, with all this emotional exposition out of the way, the normal surreal shenanigans and pissed-up punsmithery will resume in next week's instalments. The book should get better, too.