It’s not the Guy Sigworth-produced track, but the Moby one, where Britney sings about ‘early mornings” or whatnot. And I don’t think Moby has worked with Bjork, ever, so I recant what I said before. Maybe if Bjork were roughly 20 years old and looked like Natalie Portman or Nelly Furtado, then Moby’d work her over, if you know what I mean, but from what I can tell, she’s devoted to the video artist Matthew Barney now.
Incidentally, Spike Jonze, wunderkind uberdirector, did a delightful music video last year featuring a very pregnant Bjork, which leads me to believe that she is no longer “with child.”
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Jack White (not to be confused with Jack Black, natch), aka The Coolest Man Alive, has apparently caught the acting bug. First came his appearance in the Acadamy Award nominated film 
Another Wednesday night, another Chapelle’s Show. Has anyone else seen this thing? It’s insanely funny. Truly nothing is sacred for this guy. His liberal use of the N-word (that’s n***er, or *igg**), the sexually explicit content, and lots of laughs — this guy is definitely not Politically Correct. Chapelle is apparently a man from the streets. And he takes that voice of the streets and he puts it on Comedy Central. Except he takes that urban sensibility and makes it both funny and non-threatening.
Speaking of black people, did anyone else realize that Elvis Mitchell, the New York Times film reviewer, is black? That’s a picture of him to the left — definitely black, right? When I heard that, I was just as surprised as when I learned that another New York Times film reviewer, A.O. (aka Tony) Scott, is actually film director Ridley Scott’s brother. And that Tony Scott is a director himself!
Ecch, I’m so hungover at my cubicle right now, I don’t think I’ll manage many posts today. I’m not even sure how I’m going to manage today’s workload at the anonymous investment banking firm where I am employed. At this point all I know is, when you’ve had four apple martinis, you should never opt for the fifth. That’s the last time I go out with Jeep and his friends on a school night. I think I broke something in my brain.
El Pidio and I have become obsessed with playing a game we have tentatively titled, “Where will they be in the future?” The game borrows its structure from that “Where Are They Now?” show that Pids and I haven’t been able to turn off. But the idea is that you’re playing “Where are they now?” twenty years in the future. Which of today’s stars are bound to fall off the face of the earth? And where will they be?