The Lint Screen

“What’d you say? You know I’m a vampire killer…”

Tonight’s the 85th Academy Awards and while 2012 was a pretty terrific year for movies, I hope just one thing–– that Lincoln doesn’t get crowned king.

Yes, Lincoln was a great president but this was not a great movie. It wasn’t bad, mind you, it just didn’t live up to the incessant hype. Let’s just say the emperor has no stovepipe hat and leave it at that.

I still haven’t seen Armour, Beasts of the Southern Wild or Zero Dark Thirty, but have caught all the other nominated films. Of them, I’d pick Silver Linings Playbook for best film. I would also cheer for Argo or Django Unchained as best pic. Just no Lincoln, please!

For best actor, I’d go Joaquin Phoenix in The Master, a desperately under appreciated film. Give me Christoph Waltz for supporting role in Django, and give Quentin his gold statue for writing the original screenplay. For adapted screenplay, David O. Russell deserves the little man for Silver Linings Playbook.

I won’t pick in the other categories since I haven’t seen the majority of the nominees, but please, Academy, let Lincoln be. While this film was not a great moment in cinema, we did have a better time in the theatre than ol’ Abe did.

God called another great man from the bullpen and I am sad. Paul Decker is dead at age 75.

I never met Paul, only spoke to him on the phone a couple of times, but I was a huge fan of his work. Paul lived in Portland, Oregon, and was married to the lovely Kitty O’Keefe, a financial guru who I got to know when she hunted heads in advertising.

Paul was an adman in the tradition of gadflies like Howard Gossage. An interesting man with a bouquet of varied interests. He was a terrific copywriter, creative director, producer. He once wrote a brochure for a fictitious multi-national ad agency called “Mammoth, Pervasive and Bland” as a promo piece for L.A.’s keye/donna/pearlstein. I remember straining my eyes to read his brilliant copy when it was reproduced in ad award show books.

Paul had many other interests: he DJ-ed a jazz program on a public radio station in Portland, developed radio acting classes for a high school, created animated film projects and was working on a reality TV show featuring the music and food of New Orleans. These are just some of his Cliff notes.

But his real genius was evidenced by his creation of Modern Meats, a company that allegedly manufactured tasty meat (and meat-like) creations. Paul wrote hilarious company newsletters and product announcements with wit as dry as a turtle’s tongue in the Sahara.

Paul Decker was a true humorist, a spark for a world that desperately needs more fire. He will be missed, but I’m sure many memories of the joy Paul spread to others will be served along with Modern Meats at his wake.

Goodbye, Paul, and thanks for spreading some joy.

Why The Super Bowl went dark.

The NFL runs a thanks to its fans as real live players show up at their home. Hell, they even clean a driveway and like doing it, proving that head injuries cause brain damage.

Blackberry pimps its new phone with a special effects hoo-haw that makes the point that the phone does all kinds of stuff. Well, uh, O.K., I guess.

eTrade baby talks again. Not so cute anymore. Grow up already.

Bud Light has spots on their ‘only weird if it doesn’t work’ campaign, an idea they borrowed from “SportsCenter” way back when. These spots show sports superstitions played with Big Easy voodoo and black magic. A sixer of BL gains one access to this great power granted by Stevie Wonder! Wow-wee! Not great moments in advertising.

The Niners look lame. The lights go out in N.O. What’s going on here? Geez, are these commercials that bad?

Subway wastes buckets of money hiring various celebs telling us that “February” is hard to say and that Subway is selling subs. Thanks for the update, bun breath.

Axe Apollo introduces itself with a drowning beauty, a hungry shark and a hunky lifeguard, oh, and some guy in an astronaut outfit. Uh, long way to go for product recognition, but I guess it works.

Kia Forte shows product at car show. A nerd paws the car and cybernetic hotties toss him like a rag doll. Hey, that’s a good looking car!

Something called Gildan tee shirts advertises. Hmmm, maybe I’ll wear one with my Calvin Klein underwear.

Tracy Morgan for Mio Fit. No thanks.

Psy won’t die. The obnoxious Korean pop sensation shows us his gangham style moves cracking pistachios. Nutcracker suite? Will Psy’s 15 minutes of fame ever be up? Please!!!

Lincoln yaks about some social media dealio with Jimmy Fallon and I’m supposed to care and get on the internet to check it out and I don’t think I could care any less about this so I don’t think I will.

Speed Stick has a spot with a guy holding some panties. I’m starting to re-think my Calvin Kleins.

Is black the new beer color? Beck’s brings us Beck’s Sapphire with a singing fish. Dumb.

Budweiser goes for the heartstring long bomb with a tale of the man who raises a Clydesdale foal, it grows up and the beer company comes for its hooved asset, the man three years later goes to see the Clydies in Chicago. He is sad, but wait, the Clydesdale breaks free and runs down the street and the two embrace. Did anyone on the creative team see Equus?

What’s this year’s “Halftime in America” spot? The new one for Dodge Ram. A brilliant spot that uses the voice of Paul Harvey reading a tone poem he wrote to farmers–– matched with beautiful images honoring the American farmer. It’s a terrific spot with a great end line: “Dodge Ram: For the farmer in all of us.” And damn if Dodge Ram doesn’t just fit the bill beautifully. Great spot. Fresh, riveting. End zone dance.

Kia blows a wad of dough to answer a kid asking his parents “Where do babies come from?” Not worth going into what happens. Oh, yeah, I guess they’re in a Kia vehicle, at least I think so. I remember a panda bear and babies parachuting and the song “And the wheels on the bus..”

Tide has a great spot about a miracle “Montana Stain” and the sensation is causes. One of the best spots of night.

Mercedes CLA introduces itself in style with Willem Dafoe as the devil and the Rolling Stones singing for his sympathy and a young man imagining ruling the world from behind the wheel of this car– but hey, look at the low price, kiddo! Keep your soul, take out a bank loan. Oh wait, that’s selling your soul, too. Bring back that devil…

Paul Rudd and Seth Rogen appear in a Samsung “Next big thing” spot with Bob Odenkirk and LeBron James. Lots of big money star power, some good lines but hardly as arresting or as smart as the campaign spoofing iGeeks waiting outside Apple stores.

Ravens win. That’s it. Goodnight.

Oh boy, looks like trouble’s come to town.

Like Orson Welles, Quentin Tarantino will live in the shadow of an early masterpiece. His Citizen Kane is Pulp Fiction, a movie that like Kane broke so many rules it will stand as enduring art.

Tarantino’s latest film, Django Unchained, is an incredible film that like Inglourious Basterds, is history re-imagined and staged for maximum entertainment. Whereas Steven Spielberg spent his creative energy this year making Lincoln, a well-acted rather dry history lesson (“Don’t go to the theatre, Abe– the play’s not that good!”), Tarantino goes for a fascinating tale driven by unforgettable characters and riveting plot points.

Yes, there’s gratuitous blood and guts, this is Tarantino after all, but it’s the story that makes Django Unchainedsuch a kick. Jamie Foxx is terrific as Django, the slave who becomes a bounty hunter to gain his freedom, but the film really belongs to Christoph Waltz, the German actor who also played “The Jew Hunter” in Inglourious Basterds. Here, he is a dentist/bounty hunter, and his performance is certainly one of the year’s best. He owns every scene he appears in, resplendent facial hair and all.

You’ll also enjoy Leo DiCaprio as a sadistic Mississippi plantation owner, and oh my goodness golly how Samuel L. Jackson delivers an incredibly fun performance as his sycophantic manservant. Ummm ummm ummm, mighty fine acting.

See Lincoln as your civic duty, then treat yourself to Django and set yourself free.

How you’ll feel should ye be in need of a pint or two.

In the world’s greatest city, there is a bar worthy of hell.

A place that purports to be an Irish bar, but is instead an affront to anyone who has ever graced a barstool with their thirsty arse.

The joint is called Lilly O’Briens Irish Bar, on Murray Street just off West Broadway in the hip TrBeCa area of Manhattan. What follows are a list of its sins.

1. It is light and bright. I’m talking bright like if Stevie Wonder walked into the joint he’d say, “Dim it down, would you?!”

2. The place is littered with hi-def TVs playing sports, and many of the feeds are standard def. Look, Irish bars aren’t sports bars. End of discussion.

3. The Smithwicks was flat, and get a load of this, the place had Coors Light on draft! Lord help us all…

4. There was a pair of Muhammad Ali’s boxing trunks mounted in a glass case and hanging on the wall. What this was doing in an Irish Bar was a mystery.

5. Loud contemporary alt rock music was blaring on the sound system. Gotye is hardly the soundtrack for an Irish bar.

Bottom line, this place may be an O.K. sports bar, but it’s a hell of a lousy Irish Bar and should be sued for false advertising.

‘Twas enough to drive a man to drink– elsewhere.

Curvin O’Rielly, a man who made the world a more tolerable place

Curvin died yesterday. Cancer took him down. Damn cancer. Angels of mercy with a hospice in upstate New York guided him from this world to the next. Today this world feels more empty for the loss of Curvin O’Rielly.

I never met Curvin. Never even spoke to him. But I knew Curvin.

I knew him first by his work. Curvin was one of those gifted admen who wrote campaigns that were intelligent and soulful. He crafted copy for Saab, BMW, NutraSweet, Saturn and many more that spoke truth artfully and persuasively. I knew Curvin because as a young copywriter I strained my eyes to read his words reproduced in ad award show books. Curvin was a hero of mine, a copy god.

I got to know Curvin thanks to a mutual Facebook friend. She thought we’d like one another. We became Facebook friends, and we liked one another immediately.

We traded stories about working for Hal Riney in S.F. Anyone who ever worked for Riney can swap tales. In San Francisco, Riney stories are traded like baseball cards. Curvin had some very valuable cards.

Curvin began reading this blog and quickly became its top commenter. Since March of 2010, Curvin’s wit and wisdom graced many of The Lint Screen posts. Take a look-see. Often his commentary was better than the entry commented upon. Copy gods do such things naturally.

I urged Curvin to write a book. He had so many great stories, so much wisdom to share. He refused the book idea, but he did write a blog, Ace of Admen. There aren’t a ton of entries, but they are all well worth reading.

While regret I never had the chance to meet Curvin or work with him, I feel fortunate for having known him. He will be sorely missed. The world needs the likes of him more than ever.

Rest, Curvin and thanks. You will be missed.