Suzie McNeil?!?!

It's Suzie McNeil! The woman who sings the first verse of "God's Top Ten," the last track on INXS' new album, Switch! Suzie McNeil!!

I was thinking that song -- a tribute to the magnificent Michael Hutchence -- would resonate a little more if the woman on that track was someone close to Michael. Turns out, it's someone who didn't even know him. Pair her with J.D....and two people who never met Michael provide the vocals.

This shouldn't get under my skin as much as it does, but it just strikes me as wrong. Kirk, Jon, even Andrew, all have provided stellar back-up vocals in the past; couldn't one of them take on this song? Ugh.

My Hutchenceloyalty is undying.

Michael Hutchence might not be horrified by the new INXS album. This is a compliment.

I’ve had the pleasure of listening to the new INXS album, Switch. I awaited this album with sweet anticipation, and I am pleased to report that it doesn’t suck!

Not that I thought it would. J.D. clearly became the best choice for the lead-singer slot, and I have historically found it very difficult to dislike anything the Farriss brothers et. al. ever did. But still, I was a little worried. Will INXS ever really be relevant again? Is there a place for them among the lovely lady lumps? Can Mark Burnett really engineer a comeback for INXS after a decade of fading popularity and the tragic death of one of the most magnetic individuals in rock and roll? Is INXS destined to be a nostalgia act, buoyed briefly by the reality-TV phenomenon? The answers to those questions are probably no, no, no and yes, but if Switch is good, INXS will find an adequate audience nonetheless. Perhaps even one large enough to keep them in the studio and on the road.

There’s a lot at stake here. The soundtrack of my formative years. The musical seed that blossomed into my love of rock and roll and Australia, both of which, over the years, have become substantial to the point of gainful employment (the former) and lifelong friendships with my antipodean family (the latter). My eternal love of Michael Hutchence, which is strangely personal in a way that makes me understand why women cried when they saw the Beatles. INXS, I silently pleaded, please do right by all these things!

And they did. Switch is catchy and INXSy and only has a few missteps and emotionally confusing moments. So – because you can’t possibly breathe another moment without it – I hereby present an anal retentive track-by-track analysis, starting with the album’s title:

Switch I get it – the switch to a new lead singer, a new era, all they needed was the right singer and they're switched on again. But it is a little (OK very) Will Smith, and it sorta makes me want to turn it over and hit it, ooh la la la.

The cover art is less than inspired (sorry).

“Devil’s Party” Once I stumbled over the disconcerting title (a band should only ever write one song with the word “devil” in the title, especially if that one song was a huge hit), this song grew on me very quickly. I enjoy the lyrics; they are not overly literal, naïve or sentimental, thank you very much. Bonus: awesome Pengilly saxophone moments.

“Pretty Vegas” It should be stated that I like this song, but thanks to the TV show that spawned this album I will never hear it without thinking of that monstrosity, “Stop Go.” And I never want to think of that. This might be why I love the bridge so much; it seems to have been added after the show, and has moved the song away from the arrangement that was performed ad nauseam on TV. The guitar soars in the bridge, and the slide guitar underneath the chorus appeases my little country-loving self. The title is awful, but I will let it go. I’ll also forgive the megaphone.

“Afterglow” This song is so about Michael Hutchence it makes me uncomfortable. Is J.D. asking for posthumous permission to lead INXS? Is he hoping Michael won’t be mad at him whenever he meets him wherever he is? At least J.D. acknowledges that he’s living in a large, imposing shadow.

I wonder who wrote these lyrics – it would be much more meaningful if J.D. wrote them, as opposed to the rest of the band that might have had them ready for whichever singer took the reins. He sings that he’s “lost in the ashes of time, but who owns tomorrow?” Sorry J.D., Michael owns tomorrow. It’s not really up for debate. You might be admirable in your own right, but there’s no real comparison – especially when it comes to the legacy of INXS.

This is also the first of several songs that owe large debts to U2. Indeed, one might mistake this for a U2 song if one heard it at minimal volume.

“Hot Girls” At first, I thought this song was one of the aforementioned missteps. But it has grown on me. I like its groove, and I'm sure my husband would love the women whispering in Japanese throughout the track.

J.D. can totally get away with these lyrics (“Hot girls / They can break me break me / Take me where you are going”), but when I apply them to any Farriss, Beers or Pengilly – married fathers well into their 40s – I squirm a little.

“Perfect Stranger” The beginning of this song sounds like "Calling All Nations," off Kick. Sweet.

Again, this song works better if you forget that J.D. is fronting a band of middle-aged fathers. Not that men in their 40s can’t be sexual/attractive/whatever and modestly sing about one-night stands. It’s just that it doesn’t fit the Farriss/Beers/Pengilly personae. Michael Hutchence was the sexy one; the five of them are the blokes that will teach you about keyboards and pitch over a Crownie at the Parramatta R.S.L.

Side note: thank goodness the singer INXS chose has a rich gravelly baritone. None of this would have worked any other way.

“Remember Who’s Your Man” Also very U2; what is going on? I do like this one, though – very sweet, very hot, like the Thai spicy chicken wings at the Winking Lizard.

“Hungry” This might become the first song I start skipping over when listening to the whole album. The lyrics proclaim, “You don’t belong to me / I just gotta let you go.” OK, theme: gotta let you go, gotta give you up. He sure sounds determined to me…until the next track.

“Never Let You Go” After loving something and setting it free, J.D. gets all Rick Astley and affirms that he’s never gonna give you up. Which is it, my friend? (This thematic inconsistency doesn’t matter at all to me, because Switch is not a rock opera. It simply stood out because the songs are placed back-to-back on the album.)

This song is very catchy, and makes me want to car- or chair-dance. And you should see me car- or chair-dance; it is a sight.

Bonus awesomeness: sax and bass are so very INXS, straight off The Swing.

“Like It or Not” I do not like the fuzzy guitars. Repeat: I do not like the fuzzy guitars. They are not INXS. (I am very strict regarding what INXS guitars should sound like.) J.D. is sounding particularly Hutchence here, singing about gods and loves and whatnot.

“Us” My least favorite track. Lyrically, this song is very simple and predictable. I am lyrics girl, so boring and bland lyrics drive me crazy. Please sing something at me that will make me think even just a little bit. Please do not rhyme “me” with “free,” “day” with “away.” Thanks.

“God’s Top Ten” A woman sings the first verse. Who is this chick? I don’t like chicks in my INXS. I also don’t like U2 in my INXS, but I am getting some more of it here.

Another song about Michael Hutchence. God’s Top Ten? I can’t stand it. “He’s drifting with the stars / A lyric in his pocket, a little girl in his heart / When you hear his songs on the radio / I don’t need to tell you what you already know / He’s in God’s Top Ten.” Maudlin. Cheesy. I do like the references to Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily, though. Poor orphan deserves a shout out. (Damned Bob Geldof.)

I understand that there has to be catharsis on this album if the band is really going to move on with another voice. However, I feel like someone who actually knew Michael should be the one to sing a personal song like this (as opposed to “Afterglow,” which is from J.D.’s perspective, so it makes more sense). Kirk should have sung this. Or Andrew. It would have meant so much more that way. Maybe the woman at the beginning of the song has a meaningful connection to Michael; in that case, her presence is tolerable.

All of that said, this is a pleasant song but Michael deserved a better tribute – at least not one that makes trite mention of his position on heaven’s Billboard. Wasn’t he more than that?

++++++

I’ve listened to the album four times now, three very closely. Even with its shortcomings, it’s a very listenable endeavor and most of the songs are already lodged in my brain. It's an admirable effort from a band that’s survived so many traumas and still has something to say. It's also commendable work from a homeless Canadian Elvis impersonator turned reality-show victor turned recipient of the Hutchence baton for the anchor leg of the INXS relay. Those aren’t easy shoes to fill. Ty couldn’t have done it, I’ll tell you that much.

It's like Martha is right here with me, anticipating my every move

She was with me last summer as I planned my wedding. She is with me every night on my TiVo. I can't make it through Wednesday evenings without her. If I'm in the mood to make croquembouche or pipe cleaner ornaments, she is there. If I only have a little time but still would like a delicious home-cooked meal, I look no further. I consult her empire for:

1. Information on starting, growing and managing my business
2. Petkeeping tips
3. How to name kittens after satellite-radio companies
4. Jazz
5. Which house to buy, should I move to Cary, North Carolina
6. Advice on "whole living"
7. Web-based flower sales

Sometimes, however, I wonder: why won't Martha teach me about owning my first home? I am in my 30s, in the market for a home and interested in learning how to live a stylish, monochromatic lifestyle that's well beyond my means. Why isn't she here for me in this endeavor?

Fear no more, young consumer: Blueprint will be here in May 2006. The magazine will cater to 30-somethings and their interest in their first homes; this must be the title I was anticipating back in October. Blueprint, among other things, is meant to compete with Domino, which is from the same lovely peeps who bring us LuckyTheMagazineAboutShopping. I am already a loyal Domino-er. I will become a loyal Blueprint-er, no doubt.

Perhaps if I stopped subscribing to all these magazines I'd be able to afford a larger down payment. But, where's the fun in that?

Disappointing

Turns out Kanye West is a self-described homophobe. At least he admits it and is trying to overcome it but, still, I always took him as much more intelligent than that. I mean, Kanye says that Jesus walks with hustlers, killers, murderers, drug dealers and even the strippers. You'd think he could extend the same courtesy to his interior decorator:

"...I found out my cousin was gay years ago, and even just dealing with my interior decorator, having to travel with him, I've had to deal with issues. There was a point I wouldn't even get in the car with him 'cause I didn't want people to see me with a gay person. I didn't want it to hurt my career."

Although I find it hilarious in its own stereotypical way that Kanye is learning to accept gay people by traveling with his interior decorator. I can picture the two of them in Kanye's car, Kanye trying to sit way on the edge of the seat, the interior decorator simply trying to engage him in a discussion of the use of fabric and light in his home.

Unless his interior decorator is Bobby Trendy. Steering clear of him, I can understand.

Thursdays are wicked cool

At least during November sweeps. That's because Wednesday night packs the one-two punch of Lost and The Apprentice: Martha Stewart. So many mysteries to unravel! So many business lessons to learn! So many Others to impale! So many type-a lunatics to judge!

Last night's Lost told the story of the tail-enders' first 48 days on the island. Since the island in question is not nearly as fabulous as the one on which Fabian found himself after surviving the sinking of the talk show cruise ship, you know some serious shit went down. Turns out Ana-Lucia has compelling reasons for being such a paranoid bitch. Not only have the children been hauled away in the night, but also she must contend with creepy murderous infiltrators who may or may not be who they say they are. My mind was aflutter with guesses as to the identity of the Other among them: first I thought it was Bernard, given his significant hesitation before he could answer the simple question, "What's your name?" Then I thought it was red-herring Nathan -- Ethan, Nathan, get it? I'm still a little suspicious of Libby; her khaki, ragged wardrobe isn't helping. But it turns out that it was Goodwin, the fellow, we learned a few weeks ago, who is rotting in the jungle with a sharp stick protruding from his chest. Good riddance.

Even though Ana-Lucia apparently killed Shannon (and I would root for Sayid in any match between them), I have to give Lost some credit for making me like Ana, understand her motivations and care about her well-being. If I'd found a glass eye in a dark bunker on a mysterious island onto which I'd violently crashlanded, I'd expect some sympathy, too.

Speaking of a glass eye (Amanda's eye cancer revelation to Fran Drescher) and the evolution of previously heinous characters (Jim)...yesterday's MarthApprentice was chock full of goodness, too. How could it not be, what with lesbian Alexis' lobsterrific boat ride with the winning team?

Most interesting is Jim's ongoing development from incoherent manic asshole to semi-coherent manic asshole who maybe does care, somewhere, very deep down. His pep talk to Marcela before the conference room goodbye-ing (can't really call it a "firing") was right-on. I'm sure he did it because he's keeping the weak around so as to improve his own pathetic chances, but it was nice that someone saw through Amanda's and Ryan's cruel and idiotic sabotage.

Now that we're down to the final six, a prediction: Leslie is going to win this thing:

1. Jim = too unstable for the real world of MSLO.
2. Dawna = forehead wrinkles too pronounced.
3. Bethenny = kind of stupid, plus unnecessarily bitchy and self-righteous.
4. Ryan = cute but backstabbing. Nobody at MSLO is allowed to backstab except Martha herself.
5. Marcela = a Mexican Martha Stewart, yes, but too weak to stand up for herself. Martha would eat her alive and then stuff and mount her next to the Tarpon on Lily Pond Lane.

That leaves Leslie. She is Latina and can therefore help Martha crack the elusive tablecloth-closet-having Latin American market. She is a good saleswoman and natural in front of a camera. She is not offensive, at least not that I've noted. So, go Leslie.

And go me, for having so many in-depth points of view on this crap.

Surprisingly, she's not a lifeless automaton

Alexis Stewart (Martha's daughter) and Jennifer Koppelman Hutt (spawn of cigar-sucking MSLO chairman and useless conference-room sidekick Charles Koppelman) have a new show on Sirius Satellite Radio called "Whatever." The theme of the show, apparently, is "whatever." Hence, the first episode included intimate details of Alexis' sex life, a white-hot admission that she has dabbled in lesbianism and the type of weird anti-Nobu rant that can only come from the mouths of the spoiled and privileged.

After nearly two months of watching Alexis bring little more to The Apprentice: Martha Stewart than an ability to sit upright and trail off her sentences as though her sugar bun was supplemented with codeine, I daresay I am pleased to learn that she has a little life in 'er. Add it to the list of reasons to get Sirius.

Now, since Bethenny from Martha's Apprentice used to "live with Charles Koppelman's daughter" (which is code for "sleep with Charles Koppelman's son"), does that mean she'll get airtime on "Whatever"? She can tell Alexis scintillating tales of how she is so fabulous, she won't even move her feet off a bench so someone else can sit down. Six degrees of Living separation.

Perhaps my only redemption is beneath this dirty hood

I always thought my husband was a little crazy and/or overzealous and/or excessively enthusiastic in his love for and pride of knowing every single word to Springsteen's "Thunder Road." It's a great song -- don't get me wrong -- and the Boss deserves respect. However, each time my husband hears so much as one bar of the song, he goes off into his own little world where the only things that exist are "Thunder Road" and the sound of his own voice. I usually tune him out until the last line, the only one I know: "It's a town full of losers / And I'm pulling out of here to win."

So imagine my surprise this past weekend when -- during the waning, drunken moments of a wedding we were attending -- the DJ played "Thunder Road" and my friend Cara belted out every word. To fully comprehend this situation, one must realize Cara is not known for her familiarity with popular culture; in fact, she is often (lovingly) mocked for her lack thereof. But there Cara was, rolling down the window and letting the wind blow back her hair because the night was busting open and those two lanes would take her anywhere.

So: is it me? Does everyone -- even Cara? -- know every last word to "Thunder Road"? If so, why don't I? How did this happen? My encyclopedic mastery of pop-culture minutiae is collapsing like a house of cards. Please tell me I'm not the only one.

Certainly the "blogger" in question is not Matt Drudge?

There's an interesting article in Newsweek about the upcoming film, "Brokeback Mountain," to be released in December. The film is described as a heartbreaking love story between two gay cowboys -- which seems, at first blush, like it might be a campy film, something easily ridiculed by those who would ridicule such things. However, people are using words like "devastating" and "haunting" and "Oscar" to describe the movie, and it is resonating with audiences as an honest portrayal of a non-stereotypical, intense love between two men.

Still, Matt Drudge will only call it "the gay cowboy movie." The end of the Newsweek article, however, includes an admission from an Internet-er whose initial perceptions of "Brokeback Mountain" were changed by the reality of watching the film:

At the Toronto Film Festival, [director Ang] Lee and the cast faced off against a room of reporters who had just seen the film. One blogger raised his hand and stood up. He didn't have a question, he said. He wanted to apologize. "For the last year on my Web site I've been calling this 'the gay-cowboy movie'," he said. "I just want you to know that I'm not going to be calling it that anymore."

In the unlikely event this was indeed Drudge, way to grow, man, way to grow.

Update: Just when I was hoping for a little less Drudge self-loathing, it appears that he is still referring to "Brokeback Mountain" as the gay cowboy movie:

(From today's Drudge Report.)

At least I've never confused it with the sign for "I love you"

The Onion would like you stop throwing up metal, please.

Salient points from the article:

1. "The metal sign, or 'sign of the goat,' has all but lost its impact as a token of respectful recognition for something truly 'rocking' or 'metal,'" Supreme Metal Council president Terence "Geezer" Butler said. According to Butler, members are upset that their sacred gesture is being used to acknowledge and celebrate "favorable but clearly non-metal events."
   
   "We have all heard the reports of people using it to greet their in-laws, or after starting their lawn mowers with a single pull," Butler said. "But recently it was brought to our attention that someone used the gesture in a Texas convenience store after snagging the last box of carrot cakes. This simply won't do."
   
   
2. "I remember a time not long ago when the Devil Horns were reserved for only the most righteous of person, deed, or riff," Grand Elder Lemmy Kilmister said. "To see someone throwing the horns to his mate at the launderette because the clothes dryer came to a full stop just as he finished reading his copy of Circus... It breaks my heart."
   
   
3. "This man here, who invokes the sign merely to indicate his joy that his microwave popcorn is done: He is not metal," Sixx said.
   
   
4. "A lot of people who incorrectly make the sign have traces of metal in their hearts and minds, they just need the proper direction," Mustaine said.

I am ashamed to admit my own recent indiscretion regarding the sign:

Please don't tell Dio.

Terror plot? What terror plot?

Good thing the 17 men arrested this week in Australia and charged with terrorism-related offenses were from Sydney and Melbourne, because Queensland authorities are otherwise occupied:

Queensland Premier Peter Beattie has demanded the producers of Australian Idol reinstate a Brisbane-based performer whose fans say was a victim of daylight robbery.

Dan England, 21, was booted off the Ten Network's TV talent competition this week in controversy after the introduction of daylight saving meant voting lines closed an hour earlier in Queensland....

Mr. Beattie today vented his own anger, saying England's dumping was unfair because Queenslanders had one hour less to vote.

"Look we were robbed. I mean Dan was robbed," Mr. Beattie told ABC radio.

"I'm asking Channel 10 to wake up to themselves to turn back the clock to Monday and give him a fair go.

"Now if they do, I'm sure that I could find 27 votes within an hour."

It was "well past its time" that a Queenslander won the Australian Idol title, he said....

Mr. Beattie's demand came as anger over daylight saving, and its effect on England's vote, spilled into Queensland's parliament.

While opponents of daylight saving have said it fades the curtains, confuses cows and makes it hard to put babies to sleep, another MP came up with perhaps the best excuse yet -- a lack of daylight saving was robbing Queensland contestants of the chance to win Australian Idol.

"With only 27 votes determining the result, it must be asked: If Queensland had daylight saving, would Dan still be in the race to become the Australian Idol?" Liberal MP Michael Caltabiano told parliament.

"The logic of the answer would suggest yes."

Queenslanders are keenly aware of their priorities.

Damn

Dear Lost creators/writers,

Way to make my jaw drop open in abject shock and surprise. You guys are hardcore. Ana-Lucia, that bitch. As if I didn't hate her enough already. Sayid is so going to go all Republican Guard on her ass.

Most cordially,

Sympathetic Weather

PS. Is it possible that Sayid and Shannon were in a completely different location than Ana-Lucia et. al., and that they were edited together to trick us into thinking one's reaction was the result of the other's action? Could it be that Ana-Lucia and the tail-enders are standing agape at something other than dead Shannon cradled in Sayid's arms, and that Sayid's Tikriti rage is about to be directed at someone (or thing) other than Ana-Lucia? Support for this theory: Sayid and Shannon are soaking wet from the rain; the other group is dry, if I recall correctly. I realize that heavy jungle rains are quick and localized, but it would be strange indeed if, six feet from Sayid's dripping curly locks, Ana-Lucia was bone dry. Not that I've been thinking about this for 12 hours or anything.

Just when a Today show personality was becoming bearable

I'm a Good Morning America girl -- and I strongly dislike Katie, Al and Ann -- so I don't really have a lot of love for Matt Lauer. Although he has always struck me as the most watchable of the four, and I did appreciate his standing up to Tom Cruise, who is clearly insane, irrational and dangerously glib. Plus, the other day on Martha Stewart's daytime show -- during a segment about packing a suitcase that promoted his upcoming "Where in the world is Matt Lauer?" trip -- he totally called Martha out on how out-of-touch with reality she truly is. Apparently the "Where in the world..." sponsor provides Matt and crew with a tricked-out 737 for the voyage that's been outfitted like a flying hotel. At one point Martha said something like, "Well, I don't have my own 737." Matt quickly responded: "I have a feeling you fly pretty comfortably." Oh, snap!

All that said, my tide of pro-Lauer sentiment ebbed a bit today, when I discovered this for sale on MSNBC:
The futuristic space font! The graduated Lauer close-up, implying that he is getting closer to wherever in the world you are! The hopelessly outdated referencing of a cultural moment that was over an entire decade ago!

Maybe I'm just jealous because there aren't any "Why in the world does Charlie Gibson remind me so much of my dad?" t-shirts.

Is Father Ralph de Bricassart part of the cast?

At long last, the holy matrimony of Drogheda and The Real World that I've been waiting for....

A&E will air Outback House, an Australian reality show that is the true story of 16 squatters, overseers, shepherds, governesses, stationhands, cooks and maids, picked to live on a 19th-Century sheep station and have their lives taped, to find out what happens when people stop being polite, and start shearing sheep.

I will certainly TiVo this, although I think it would have been more interesting to set the show in the 1840s at the penal settlement of Port Arthur, Tasmania. Or perhaps on Sarah Island in Macquarie Harbour -- there we could watch fame-seeking reality contestants fell massive Huon pines without the aid of modern machinery, and then resort to fiendish cannibalism as a means of sustaining themselves in the Tasmanian bush. But perhaps I am a tad too interested in the macabre.

Low talker

You know it's a good day when the Puffy Shirt is in the news.

Even more exciting: Seinfeld seasons 5 and 6 will be released on DVD on November 22!

(Please note that the seasons 5 and 6 gift set includes a "Collectible Puffy Shirt." I am not entirely sure what that means, but I need one. Is it full size? Can I wear it? Or is it a little token? I have to get to the bottom of this.)

Sweet dreams are, indeed, made of this

Not that I haven't been enjoying it all season, but Martha's Apprentice is getting really good.

First of all, during a breakfast on her Bedford estate that she prepared for this week's winning team, she asked contestant Marcela if she could have some of her sugar bun. Right off her plate. This is not a prison metaphor. Aren't there enough for everyone? Is Martha so desperately hungry that she must take food from kowtowing underlings? If so, maybe selling just one of your Arabian horses would allow you to put food on your Nyack Conservatory Table. In addition, Marcela is tiny and could have used the extra sustenance she would've taken in had she been permitted to finish her own food.

Second, there's Jim's performance this week. Just when my hatred of him was reaching its zenith, his thoughtful and decent work this week brought my seething anger back to its nadir. I'm sure he'll pick it back up and revert to the a-hole that he is in time for next week's episode, but for now he seems measured, smart -- reasonable, even.

The scene that best illustrated this positive character development was when he calmly responded to Sarah's and Carrie's non-leadership and lack of ideas for how to promote the Tide To Go stain-removing pen by reminding them that they're not focusing on the product at all; are we aware of this? Then, as Carrie was searching for her lost pen instead of leading the team to victory, Jim nicely pointed out that it was behind her ear. He could have stooped very low at this point, telling her something along the lines of, "your pen has been strangled to death in your mess of teased, Aqua-Netted '80s tresses, an apparent suicide because it could no longer countenance being a tool in your boring and worthless accounting 'work'," but no. All niceties from Jim, all the time.

The previews for next week's episode are focused on Jim's status as a loose cannon, going so far as to call him the "male Omorosa." Clearly, his presence is helping the show's ratings -- which is why, I suspect, Martha is keeping him around. So, tune in next week! Will Jim make you want to rip off your own ears and then blind yourself with the remote control? Or will he leave you wondering, "maybe, just maybe, it is conceivable that someone would have married this man?" He had one good week, but my money's still on the former.

What's in George W. Bush's pockets?

A lion -- and baby, he's ready to roar.

Just a theory. Aren't the religious ones always the kinkiest?

It's a sexy thing

One day last week on Martha, during a wine-tasting segment with Lorraine Bracco, Martha firmly stated that she'd rather swallow than spit because "that's the kind of weekend it's been."

Then Martha described how her chow, Paw Paw, sleeps in her doorway each night, thereby preventing people [insinuation: men] from entering her bedroom, even when she would like to welcome them.

A few days later Linda Dano asked Martha if there were any men in her life. Martha's answer: "Many. Many."

Today, Martha told her studio audience that one of the 30 most important things you can know how to do well is make a bed; she wants people who get out of a bed in her house to be able to say, "that was a great bed." She then coyly told the cheering, lascivious audience something along the lines of, "I didn't necessarily mean my bed."

Then there's this, from Monday's Halloween episode in which Martha dressed up as Tarzan's Jane. She swung onto the set from a little platform by the kitchen:



One must wonder: was she wearing little shorts under that costume? If not, bitchin'. That's a lot of good-lookin' leg for a 64-year-old to bare on national morning television. And from that angle!

Finally, check out her Jane costume accessory -- a stuffed animal meant to portray Tarzan's chimpanzee, Cheetah. Cheetah got to cop a feel for two entire segments:


I challenge you to find better television.