WARNING: A couple spoilers posted below.

If you haven't already, make sure you check out parts one and two of our Favorite Movie Endings feature, in which we paid tribute to the finales of 40 films ranging from The 40-Year-Old Virgin to Vertigo and more. As our staff brainstormed for the movies to include, we quickly realized that there are way too many awesome endings to organize them into one of those definitive EW countdowns you know and (mostly) love. So instead we picked our personal favorites...no judgments!

Still, there were a few goodies that we remembered too late. If I had the chance to add another pick, it would be the poignant ending of The 25th Hour, in which Edward Norton's character, en route to prison, has an elaborate fantasy about the alternate life he could have south of the border. Assistant managing editor Jason Adams had the ending of a different Norton movie in mind: ''Fight Club [pictured] has a pretty perfect final scene with the Pixies' 'Where Is My Mind?' kicking in before the credits.''

What would you add? Pay tribute to your favorites below.

For fans lacking the wherewithal (or energy) to attend one of America's large summer music festivals, the free webcasts of SXSW, Coachella, Bonnaroo, and more available at AT&T's Blue Room site have been a godsend. But Pearl Jam followers who logged in to this weekend's Lollapalooza coverage may not have gotten the band's entire performance ? and what's missing is especially troubling from a freedom of speech standpoint. According to the PJ website:

After concluding our Sunday night show at Lollapalooza, fans informed us that portions of that performance were missing and may have been censored by AT&T during the "Blue Room" Live Lollapalooza Webcast.

When asked about the missing performance, AT&T informed Lollapalooza that portions of the show were in fact missing from the webcast, and that their content monitor had made a mistake in cutting them.

During the performance of "Daughter" the following lyrics were sung to the tune of Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" but were cut from the webcast:

- "George Bush, leave this world alone." (the second time it was sung); and

- "George Bush find yourself another home."

This, of course, troubles us as artists but also as citizens concerned with the issue of censorship and the increasingly consolidated control of the media.

Weird, right? My first response to this was, Uh ... what year is it? 2002? But then I sort of got more constructive: Confused and a little dismayed, I put in a call to the Blue Room's spokesperson this afternoon. After the jump, his response, and what I hope will be a lively, issues-oriented discussion. Completely un-edited, of course!

Considering that the Blue Room is something I've linked to a couple times during my festival blogging this summer, it was important to me to find out exactly what I'd been feeding you PopWatchers. And sure enough, the company's spokesperson told me that the editing at Lollapalooza was not intentional, and was the decision of an "overzealous" web editor at a company AT&T subcontracted to handle the event. "We have policies for profanity and other actions," the spokesperson continued, "but this was a mistake, and we are working with the band to resolve it." They hope to have an un-edited performance online soon, and, naturally, they regret the situation.

That's nice. But the first question here, obviously, is how to keep something like this from happening in the future. One can't help but wonder how Joe Webcasteditorguy determined that Vedder's remarks were somehow inappropriate ? according to the spokesperson, the Blue Room's only policy regarding editing is to remove "excessive profanity" from webcasts, based on the fact that they have no age restriction for the website. What I found interesting is the fact that all Blue Room transmissions are running on a two-minute delay, which, unlike your more standard SNL-and-news-broadcasts seven-second delay, must be an agonizingly long time for any editor to stew over a snap judgment ? especially if they're engaged in a fierce internal debate about whether allowing the liberal rock star's anti-Bush comment through the filter might get them fired, or, worse, added to some sort of list that could lead to phone monitoring and/or the inability to get on a plane next time they want to visit grandma. And yes, that is a slight exaggeration. But throw in paranoia involving the giant corporation for whom they are working, the opinions/beliefs of shareholders, the chance that you might be providing the dreaded "succor" to the damn terrorists.... Well, one can see where Joe Webcasteditorguy was, maybe, just trying to do what's right.

So my second question is, do you want your information ? even if it's just a rock show webcast ? from a source that censors at all? Many people, including myself, would say no. Because if they're bleeping the f-word, there's no way to know what else you might not be hearing ... and situations like this weekend's bear that theory out. I went searching for other places where I could have watched an unedited Lollapalooza webcast, and came up empty. It appears that AT&T and their Blue Room have developed something of a monopoly in this medium.

Which brings me to the third and final question: What's to be done in a world where we are forced to get our information from increasingly consolidated providers (like, yes, EW parent company Time Warner)? If we can't vote with our feet ? i.e. "no, I do not like the way you are bleeping out those cuss words, so I will go over here instead, until you stop doing things I don't like" ? then we become a captive audience, with no choice but to open up and accept the spoon with which we're being fed. Even worse, given that most of the consolidated providers are giant revenue-generating corporations, how often are they including or omitting content thanks to economic concerns? And how many of those decisions ? often, sadly, the shadiest kind ? will we never know about?

I'm going to stop now, before I spin off into some sort of ideological k-hole, and open the floor to you, PopWatchers. Is this Blue Room snafu just a silly misunderstanding, or is it a symptom that something else is wrong? Can the Internet ? once a truly free wilderness of uncensored content ? survive its ongoing transformation into a medium that's just as commerce-driven as TV, radio, and paper products? And is it more convenient to be able to get all your information from one source, even at the risk of losing competitors ? or just kinda scary?

Go check out Shirley's recent post on censorship on MTV, Gary's latest on the trend towards phasing out local movie critics, read the entire post from the Pearl Jam site (which includes linkage to some net neutrality resources), and then post your own thoughts below. Which will be edited for profanity. Sorry.

Hey, Henry! Heard about your birth today. And normally I wouldn't think of exposing a defenseless infant to the merciless snark of a daily pop-culture blog, but, well, I just had to say something. Thing is, your dad's got a bit of a reputation for being uptight about some things. Reeeeally uptight. You're probably in for a lot of conversations like this:

Lil' Henry White: Hey, Dad, can I wear this cool t-shirt to school today?

Papa Jack White: Let me think about this. Is it a red shirt?

Hank: [shakes head]

Jack: Is it a white shirt?

Hank: No...

Jack: [sighs] Well, is it a black shirt, then?

Hank: ...It's forest green.

Jack: THEN, NO, FOR THE 10,000TH TIME, YOU CANNOT WEAR THAT T-SHIRT!

What I'm trying to say is, it ain't easy being raised by an obsessive-compulsive musical genius. Also, that woman is totally not your aunt.

There is one ray of hope: At least your parents didn't saddle you with a creepy color-coded name, like your big sister Scarlett T. White. (I guess "Redd Foxx White" wasn't an option?) So forget I said anything!

Love,

PopWatch

Harry Shearer is a man of many talents ? funny voices (The Simpsons), funny bass-playing (This is Spinal Tap; A Mighty Wind), and, lately, funny websites. But all is not goofy and light in Shearer-land. Take the dead-serious, tantalizingly brief blog post he put up yesterday about the health of The Daily Show. "I think if you're going to be making fun of politicians, you don't hang out with them," he writes, citing a Comedy Central suit's remark that Beltway heavies feel "comfortable" talking to Jon Stewart on air. "If satire is comforting the comfortable, what's it doing to the afflicted?"

Good question. Don't get me wrong ? I've been a faithful Daily Show viewer since the Kilborn years, and I still tune in just about every night. But there was a time when I considered Stewart a hero for the way he laced his laffs with dead-on policy jabs, the way he fearlessly spoke truth to power. And that time seems longer ago every night. Stewart does seem awfully chummy with those big-name guests these days; it's as if he's ceded his hell-raising powers to Stephen Colbert. When's the last time you saw Stewart nail a politician with a true Gotcha! moment?

He gets a few good lines in every once in a while, of course, and I'll never give up entirely on the old Stewart. Still, have I already judged him too soon? Should Shearer and I keep our mouths shut until we're the ones being expected to produce 30 minutes of comedic and political gold four nights a week? You tell me.

Our corporate cousins over at Spinner.com weighed in this week with their list of the 25 best opening lyrics in music history, from "You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar" (Human League's "Don't You Want Me") all the way up to No. 1, "She's a very kinky girl" (Rick James' "Superfreak"; pictured).

They're all pretty solid choices, but it still feels like something's missing. Namely, where's the rap? Spinner chose just two hip-hop tracks, one of which ? 50 Cent's "Go shorty, it's your birthday" ("In Da Club") ? isn't even an actual opening lyric. (For the record, the "go shorty" bit is just pre-song patter; the real first words of "In Da Club," not counting the chorus, are the less-than-memorable "When I pull up in the front, see the Benz on dubs.")

That's quite an omission, considering how much more lyrics-oriented rap music is compared to most pop and rock music. Did any of the well-known lines after the jump really deserve to be unseated by, uh, "Pigs, they tend to wiggle when they walk"? (Sorry, Malkmus.)

? "It was all a dream!/I used to read Word Up magazine/Salt'N'Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine." C'mon ? even people who've never listened to a single rap album all the way through start shouting along when Biggie's "Juicy" comes on. This one's a gimme.

? "Funny how money change a situation/Miscommunication leads to complication/My emancipation don't fit your equation." Lauryn Hill's ferocious salvo on "Lost Ones" stopped any doubters in their tracks.

? "I bomb atomically/Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses/Can't define how I be droppin' these/Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery." Inspectah Deck absolutely destroyed the Wu-Tang Clan's "Triumph" with this polysyllabic beast. Eight other tight verses follow from the rest of the Clan, but none have a chance at beating this one.

? "The new moon rode high in the crown of the metropolis/Shining, like 'Who on top of this?'" Mos Def's scene-setting imagery on his and Talib Kweli's "Respiration" is more than just a classic hip-hop line ? it's a classic piece of poetry, period.

? "International, underground/Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground." OutKast's Andre 3000 used to drop nimble-tongued gems like this one (from "B.O.B.") all the time ? and, thankfully, he's recently started doing so again.

I could go on for days! And so, I'm sure, could you. Which great first lines (rap or otherwise) did Spinner forget?

Two big casting announcements today, for those who haven't heard already. Carla Gugino will join 300 director Zack Snyder's adaptation of the beloved Watchmen comic-book series as Silk Spectre Sally Jupiter. And Anton Yelchin is expected to report for duty as Enterprise navigator Pavel Chekov in J.J. Abrams' Star Trek prequel.

Both seem like pretty good calls from where I'm standing. Gugino's been a bit underused lately ? I prefer to pretend that her appallingly dumb Entourage role never happened ? and Yelchin could use a career boost as well, given that his other projects include Alpha Dog and, er, Finding t.A.T.u. But enough about me; what do you think of these choices?

Last night's episode of Damages reminded me of a classic scene from Mommie Dearest in which Joan Crawford beats her young daughter in back-to-back swimming contests, then merrily declares, "You lost again!" I could almost imagine Glenn Close's win-at-all-costs attorney Patty Hewes making a similar declaration after ? ** spoiler alert! ** ? having her son kidnapped on a street corner and driven off to a hardcore reform school. Granted, the kid had it coming, seeing as he'd surreptitiously mailed a hand grenade to mom's office, and left a similar surprise in dad's glove compartment, but Close (pictured) always lets us see that twisted side of Patty where we know that, amidst the pain of dealing with her son's criminal activities, she takes a sick pleasure in showing him who's really in charge.



It's fun watching Patty toy with Ellen, too, although unfortunately, Rose Byrne never changes her character's expression from one of blissfully vapidity. Seriously? This is one of America's great, young legal minds? Here's hoping as the season progresses, we'll get new and equally matched foes for Patty. You know the inevitable showdown with Ted Danson's deliciously ambiguous Frobisher is gonna be a doozy.



How did you feel about last night's Damages? And how do you hope the rest of the season plays out?

EDITOR'S NOTE: EW's Clark Collis and Vanessa Juarez spent 10 days in New Orleans to research a piece for the print magazine (which hits newsstands Aug. 10). Here, they share their thoughts on the experience.

When our managing editor suggested ? nay, demanded ? that we spend two weeks in New Orleans researching a story about the recovery of the music scene in the wake of the Katrina catastrophe, two thoughts sprang to mind. The first was: "What the hell has gotten into Rick?" The second was: "Who cares? Let's get ready to party!" After all, it had been almost two years since the hurricane caused the levees to breach. Presumably, New Orleans was as good as, well, new. Otherwise we'd have heard more about it, right?

Well, no. What had gotten into our editor, during his own fact-finding trip to the Big Easy a couple of weeks before, was the realization that in New Orleans things are, as a wise man once said, pretty f---king far from okay. And, once we'd arrived in the city, it didn't take us long to agree. You don't have to be a Woodward and/or Bernstein to notice on even the most cursory of drives through, say, the Lower Ninth Ward, that the area looks like it was hit by a hurricane two weeks, and not years, ago. True, houses no longer actually lie on top each other as they did after the neighborhood was flooded, but some three out of four homes in the Lower Ninth remain unoccupied ? and nearly all still bear the gruesome marking that indicate whether the National Guard had found bodies inside.

The Lower Ninth is where you will find the house of rock 'n' roll legend Fats Domino (pictured), which has been renovated. But many other musicians who used to live here ? and in other, similarly still devastated neighborhoods ? currently dwell in other cities or in FEMA trailers. The latter may sound cozy, but, as we discovered upon entering one, are cramped and fairly hellish. And with recent reports of people getting sick from exposure to formaldehyde, conditions in these aluminum boxes are officially unsafe. One retired trumpeter who has been living in a trailer since Katrina told us that, at first, he joked that his new living quarters were so narrow he could only eat spaghetti. He went on to inform us that he had long since ceased to find his living situation even remotely humorous.

In fact, these dispossessed musicians must also dwell in a place inside their own heads, which can be every bit as suffocating and depressing as their physical quarters. As Bethany Bultman, founder of the New Orleans Musicians? Clinic, told us, ?Everyone ? myself included ? is suffering from post-traumatic stress. Stress-related stroke. Stress-related heart attack. They?ve all increased since Katrina, they?re everywhere.? Many of the stories we heard were certainly tragic. We also heard tales of anger and hope and resilience. Actually, we heard a LOT of tales. Everyone had a story and everyone knew two or three ? or ten ? other people whose histories they recommended we hear. Initially, two weeks had seemed like an extravagant period of time to get our story, which you can read in the issue on stands this Friday. In the end ? despite having the pleasure of chatting with such legends as Fats Domino and Cyril Neville and Irma Thomas as well as a host of less well known local musicians ? it, perhaps inevitably, felt like we were only scratching the surface of this problem.

So, New Orleans is no longer the party town of legend? Au contraire. If you want to have a good time, the birthplace is jazz is still very much the place to go. Most of the tourist-friendly areas like the French Quarter or Frenchmen Street survived the disaster relatively unscathed. Our (corporate) credit cards got a severe workout as we caught great shows at such venues as the Maple Leaf, Preservation Hall, Tipitina's and Snug Harbor (try the gumbo ? it's sensational!) While the city's musicians may often be having a grim time in their personal lives, they remain determined that you should have a good one. One, indeed, that you will never forget.

It is fair to say, though, that New Orleans itself does feel fairly forgotten, with the eyes of the media long since having turned to fresher stories. Perhaps that's just the way of the world. But it makes the fact that, as New Orleans icon Dr. John described it, one of America's greatest cities now largely resembles a Third World shantytown no less of a disgrace. If there were only some ways for you to help...

In two words: You can. It?s easy. Just go down there and hear some terrific music. Or check out the amazing architecture. Or get blind drunk on Irish Car Bombs at a Bourbon St. karaoke bar. A tourist dollar is a tourist dollar ? and none will be turned away.

Or you can help in a more direct fashion. There are many many not-for-profit organizations assisting musicians in New Orleans. Charity workers who were kind enough to answer our multitude of questions include representatives of the Tipitina's Foundation, Renew Our Music, New Orleans Musicians' Relief Fund, Sweet Home New Orleans, Music for Tomorrow and the Musicians Village. It may be true, as we were told by one relief worker, that what musicians really want is a hand-up, not a hand-out. Right now, however, they are in desperate need of both.

From 1989 to 1992, I was a pre-teen Siskel & Ebert-ologist. Not only did I never miss an episode, but I taped ?em all on VHS as well ? and even, for a time (though I'm not sure why), took notes as I watched. Back then, daydreaming of one day getting to sit in the middle as the kid critic on Siskel & Ebert & Kirschling and weigh in on movies like Arachnophobia, I was far gone. And here in my office, I've still got the double-autographed picture of Gene and Roger from 1990 to prove it.

I've long since returned to Planet Earth ? though Roger Ebert (pictured) is still the man ? but it was hard yesterday not to get pumped at the news that 5,000 old video clips of Gene and Roger (and Roger and Roeper) were going up at athemoviestv.com. Actually, in one sense, it sucks because now all those videotapes I made and notes I took are suddenly even more worthless than ever. But I'll live with it because it throws me back to watch these two guys ? who really didn't get along most of the time ? go after each other again. Some guys have the crack of a bat; for me, it's the sound of the bald guy bitching at the fat guy that harkens back lost childhood.

What are their best scrapes? I'm disappointed my favorite Siskel & Ebert fight of all time, a battle in blood over a long-forgotten 1991 movie called The Hours and the Times, isn't (yet) available on the site. Still, to get yourself started, check out their dust-ups over Blue Velvet and Full Metal Jacket. These guys got a rep from some cineastes for helping kill serious criticism with their "thumbs up, thumbs down" shtick, but compared to what passes for television discourse on movies today, their old syndicated shows ? crammed with entertaining ideas, serious consideration of art films, and unwatered-down opinion ? play like today's public television. If by chance you've got favorite old Siskel & Ebert reviews, list them below. I want to check them out.

Greetings from the future: London, 2084. After defrosting from their cryogenic chambers, mega-billionaires 50 Cent, Justin Timberlake, and Timbaland have established an advanced Big Brother state to help them spy on lovely ladies in futuristic lingerie. Still looking for a lead single to launch Curtis into the charts, 50 takes a break from the grind and decides to find some girls. He locks onto his target with a sniper rifle ? the new-age analog of Cupid's bow and arrow ? causing her to suffer dangerously powerful orgasms in her car as she leads him to a top-secret strip club. Here, the ladies fruitlessly blindfold his bionic eyes while Timbaland uses pre-cog technology stolen from the set of Minority Report to cycle through all of the X-rated CCTV footage he can get his hands on. (So much easier than opening multiple tabs in Firefox!) Meanwhile, JT hasn't fully adapted to the relaxed sexual mores of the new era ? he's still an old-fashioned, one-woman kind of guy, so he stakes out his favorite cyber-chick's house and uses his all-powerful mouse pad to dispense with the foreplay.

(Watch the obviously NSFW video below, then check in after the jump to discuss.)

Okay, PopWatchers, hop in the DeLorean and let's jet back to the present to discuss the frightening realities of FutureSex. I like the 8-bit Nintendo sound of Timba's beat, and even though his lyrics are as creepy as ever, 50 hits the fast-paced tempo pretty well. Director Joseph Kahn has a proven track record for pushing already sexual songs towards the pornographic end of the spectrum (Sisqó's "Thong Song," Britney's "Toxic"), but there is something sort of dark and vaguely disturbing about this vision of the future. Also, JT's trend of disintegrating into a sort of human Windows Media player is losing its cachet (see: "LoveStoned"). Still, I think there's a valuable lesson lurking in the Matrix, and it goes by the name of "TGIF." So take off your leather gloves, power down your computers, and go forth into the world. (Just don't spy on anyone changing, it's technically illegal.) 

Enjoy the weekend, PopWatchers, and hope that Monday brings us a collaboration between Justin and Tay Zonday, another man with a bold vision of tomorrow's dystopia. Fingers crossed!