To commemorate Blades of Glory taking box-office gold two weekends in a row:

Legends of the fall.

Muppet on ice.

Appalling as Don Imus' "nappy-headed ho's" comment was, I'm less disappointed in his behavior than in that of his enablers: his sponsors, his high-profile guests (many of them top politicians and journalists), and the broadcasters who carry his show. After all, Imus has a long, well-documented history of such ugly slurs, yet none of these enablers has ever called him on it. CBS (which syndicates his radio show) and NBC (which simulcasts it on MSNBC) have said they'll start monitoring Imus' show for content. Thanks, guys, but that herd of horses has been stampeding through the wide-open barn doors for years.

I'm worried that Imus' two-week suspension will be seen as a complete solution instead of the finger-in-the-dike measure that it is, and that CBS and NBC (and Imus) will pat themselves on the back for having behaved responsibly. During those two weeks, what's CBS going to air instead ? Imus reruns, which may contain equally inflammatory remarks? And what of the rest of talk radio, which crosses the line as routinely as Imus did? Are any of the stations and sponsors going to be paying attention there? Let's hope so ? not just because it would result in less airwave pollution, but also because there needs to be a private-sector solution, lest the FCC take up the suggestion of Imus nemesis Al Sharpton (pictured, left, with Imus, on Sharpton's radio show yesterday) and get the federal government involved in policing the ideological content of talk radio.

There is one thing about this whole fiasco that made me laugh: nobody with a coiffure like Imus' has any business making fun of someone else's hair.

Three Bears time, PopWatchers: Is Imus' punishment too soft, too hard, or just right? (Please, be civil. Prove that the blogosphere is better than talk radio.)

Hey kids, remember the glory days of movie soundtrack albums? I do. Of course, you'll probably think I'm a psycho if I admit to having at one point not only owned but enjoyed the Godzilla soundtrack, yet I'll happily counter that with the fact that both Dirty Dancing and its mambo-laden (guh-gung!) followup More Dirty Dancing are on my iPod, as are both volumes of the music from Grosse Pointe Blank, and the Twister soundtrack... Oh, I just went back to being a psycho again, didn't I.

Anyway. My point here is that it seems, of late, that the songs officially designated as accompaniment to the blockbuster films of the day have not been as exciting as they once were. Whether that's because everyone can just download the good stuff off iTunes and leave the bad Wallflowers covers behind in the discount bin or whatever has yet to be scientifically determined, but there is, on the horizon, some good news for soundtrack lovers: The Spider-Man 3 CD, featuring new tracks from the biggest names in indiedom, and Chubby Checker, will be released May 1. I'll dissect its worldwide implications ? and give away a VALUABLE PRIZE ? after the jump!

Look, I can't tell you anything about the origins of that creepy, almost X-Philian black oil creeping onto Spidey's suit in the trailers, but I can tell you that his over-developed dark side has at last led our hero to something resembling good taste: Snow Patrol, the Killers, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Wolfmother, the Walkmen, the Flaming Lips, Rogue Wave, and Jet all make appearances on the new album, and those are just the bands I'm sure you've heard of. It's a cred-tastic array of artists, and it begs a number of questions, not least of which is, Why did they wait this long to hire a decent music supervisor?

I mean, let's go back through history: Spidey 1's 2002 soundtrack was anchored by a very good albeit annoyingly insistent Chad Kroeger song, then meandered through the "punk" wasteland of Sum 41 and Alien Ant Farm before landing on still-slightly-under-the-radar-at-least-for-mall-shoppers bands like the Strokes and the Hives, made a woeful dip into Pete Yorn, and then filled the end up with Danny Elfman score stuff.

2004's Spidey 2 was, if possible, even more unfortunate, because it assumed (incorrectly) that the same people who want to listen to Train, Hoobastank, and Yellowcard also want to listen to Taking Back Sunday, Midtown, and Dashboard Confessional, and vice versa. Trust me: When Maroon 5 is the winningest band in your lineup, there is something very wrong. Plus, it, too, filled the end up with Danny Elfman score stuff.

(NOTE: I am not complaining about Danny Elfman. On the long list of soundtracks I've owned, the Batman score certainly makes top 5. I used to have a long-play cassette where I dubbed Batman onto Side A and John Williams' Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom score onto Side B, and I used to listen to it every night to get to sleep. And now you have way more information than I ever meant to disclose, so cut me some slack, haters.)

But hey! It's a new day and a new Spidey, and this one has been reading NME! You should know this album is worth the purchase price for the Flaming Lips' epic-yet-sweet "The Supreme Being Teaches Spider-Man How To Be In Love" alone, that the Killers song sucks way less than their second album, and that as usual I will strongly advocate for the simple sunny pleasures of my friends the Rogue Wavers. Furthermore, the record contains no Danny Elfman filler, choosing instead to save that final slot for the Oohlas, who may have only sold like 9 records but hey, the kids on MySpace love 'em. Even the weaker/more obscure bands have their own merits: If you hold your ears and squint, Black Mountain could be My Morning Jacket; Coconut Records features Jason Schwartzman and backing vocals from a certain spider-smitten faux-redhead herself; and I don't know who these Sounds Under Radio folk are trying to fool, but that is a big-time rock 'n' roll band masquerading as some unsigned indie-emo whatsits.

So what do you think, PopWatchers? Can this high-quality soundtrack save its beloved genre from almost-certain future death? Did these bands sign on because they love the Spider-Man franchise so much or because anything that's going to clear $100 million on its first day ain't a bad thing to be associated with? Do you think the recent announcement that they're going to release an indie version of the Now! comps was in any way influenced by this excitement-generating track listing?

And could someone please confess a love of movie soundtracks that is more pathetic than my Batman/Indy obsession? Most embarrassing admission wins a copy of the long-out-of-print Hope Floats original soundtrack, featuring 6 bonus tracks!

I relocated from New York City to Los Angeles a year ago, excited for a different urban experience, yet knowing I was entering the dreaded Mecca of Hollywood youth culture. Having successfully lived here a year avoiding it, I foolishly decided to watch the premier episode of A&E's dreadful reality show Sons of Hollywood on demand this weekend. An hour later, a little part of me had died inside and a big part of me was embarrassed to be an Angeleno.

The show focuses on a trio of nimrod best buddies: No. 1 is Aaron Spelling's son (and Tori's little brother) Randy, who is an aspiring actor and straight stud in these parts (according to the show). Buddy  No. 2 is the really dumb aspiring musician Sean "Stewy" Stewart, a.k.a. Rod Stewart's son (and Kimberly Stewart's brother ? Woot! I mean, Yuck!). Buddy  No. 3 is some agent guy who I am sure I could look up but I don't even care, although I will point out that he comes off as the smart one, which isn't saying much. Anyway, they believe they're pretty friggin' special, so much so that the tagline for their show is "Real Life, Only Better" and their theme song, co-written and sung by Stewy, has something to do with being in the in-crowd. I don't want to go into much detail because I don't want to give the trio too much attention but here is just a sampling of what goes down in their better-than-us-real-people lives:

In Vegas, after losing all of his money at a card table, Stewy makes a manly toast to "Women, fine wine, fast cars and giving it from behind, baby!"  (Yes he makes a chair humping gesture.) A couple of minutes later, I am not kidding you, as a quiet, daft, skinny, tan, blonde girl stares coyly at the ground, a passive-aggressive cotton-candy-throwing fight ensues between Rod's son and Aaron's son. The cotton candy brawl happened because one of them drunkenly said that they were gonna do something to someone with their big you-know-what and then the other retorted something like, "Oh yeah, but first I'm gonna hit you with my big you-know-what," and then cotton candy showed up and they started viciously hurling it back and forth at each other. (Don't believe me? You can watch it here.) Why was Spelling so harshly cotton-candied? Here is Stewart's explanation: "There is so much pressure on you, especially when your dad is a huge rock star."

The best part of Sons of Hollywood comes in around the first five minutes of the premiere episode. Agent Guy has announces in a voiceover that the boys are headed to Las Vegas. Early that morning, Spelling and Stewart are amusing themselves by badly playing pool, knowing that the limo is patiently waiting outside for them and that they are late. Agent Guy tries to get them away from the pool table and into the waiting limo and then finally gives up, saying, "You guys are dumbasses!" I could not agree more! I want to live as far away from the Sons of Hollywood as possible! New York City, will you find it in your heart to please take me back?

But wait, now that I think of New York, I am reminded of the first nimrods to hit A&E, the Gotti brothers! Oh no, what if A&E did a crossover program with the dumbest guys in New York and dumbest guys in Los Angeles? What would happen, PopWatchers? Even worse, what if they threw in a Bounty Hunter? Lastly, PopWatchers, if you've watched an episode of this show, did you get through it without cringing? Could you watch another one? If you dare, Sons of Hollywood is on Sunday nights at 10:00 p.m. (Funny, that is the same timeslot that a good show about dumb, rich Hollywood guys airs on a little channel named HBO.)

Overheard while channel-surfing: "All new! The latest on separating Diane Sawyer's conjoined twins ? tomorrow on The Insider!"

Come again?

The Rooney guys are certainly gearing up for the May 22 release of their long-awaited second album, Calling the World. For the entire month of April, they're hitting the Sunset Strip on a weekly basis, playing the Roxy every Monday night for a residency they dubbed "Monday, Monday." And having followed this LA five-piece for some time now, I can tell you that the Mamas and Papas reference is no stretch. Ever since I first heard the sunny, sing-songy melodies of "Blue Side" off their self-titled debut, I've been hooked on these guys' ridiculously on-the-mark harmonies. Now, after several years of touring, which included an arena trek this past summer opening for Kelly Clarkson, the vocal trifecta of singer Robert Schwartzman, drummer Ned Brower, and guitarist Taylor Locke is stronger than ever.

Look no further than Calling the World for proof. The album's highly danceable first single, "When did Your Heart Go Missing?" might throw fans off with its retro 80s vibe, but the rest is pure Rooney goodness. Like the super-catchy "Don't Come Around Again" or the epic prog-rock three-part act, "I Should've Been After You," this is a record informed by ELO and Sloan, two of my absolute favorites.

Needless to say, I had a good time, despite coming off a 20-hour trans-Atlantic flight. But I wasn't the only one sh-sh-shakin' in the crowd. The Rooney guys have a very extended family in L.A. that includes some recognizable names. Like Mischa Barton, whom I spotted out front just before the band hit the stage, while in the dressing room, the hilarious Jonah Hill (Accepted, 40-Year-Old Virgin), Brothers & Sisters' Sarah Jane Morris (who is married to Ned), Andy Dick (who was MC-ing the evening), singer-songwriter Ben Lee, and The Donnas' Tori Castellano and Allison Robertson, who dates Taylor. And, of course, Mr. Front-and-Center, the adorable Robert (brother of actor Jason Schwartzman), hung loose.

Now, you know there will be something to write about when Andy Dick takes the microphone. He debuted two of his latest musical ditties, whose names I don't know; one featured the lyric "Dip your c--k in vodka, and it hurts when you pee," and the other started with "It's another great day for drugs." He ended it by explaining its message: "Don't do drugs or you'll end up like me."

Surprise opener Ben Lee also performed a new tune that he said "was written for my hero, Jay-Z." It contained the lyrics "I want the hottest chick in the game... / I wanna be a self-made man / I wanna know the things he understands... / What would Jay-Z do?" The Aussie digs the Hova? Who knew?

But the new songs everyone was psyched for were Rooney's, and the boys did not disappoint, even throwing in a few classics ("Sorry, Sorry," the aforementioned "Blue Side," and "Shakin'") and a cover of The Beach Boys' "California Girls" (see a snippet here) with Ben Lee. Rooney promised a different cover every show (last week's was Tears For Fears' "Everybody Wants to Rule the World"), so we'll see what the rest of the month brings.

One person who's sure to come back? The family's matriarch, Talia Shire. Not only was the Rocky actress totally rocking out in the crush of the crowd, but she encouraged others to as well. "It's the songs!" she yelled excitedly after the show. "And it wasn't as loud as it usually is," added the rocker mom, who proudly doesn't wear earplugs.

After a hilarious season premiere chock full o' tantrums, spontaneous singing, and drunken pratfalls, episode 2 of The Bachelor: Officer and a Gentleman was bound to be a little bit of a letdown ? from a comedy standpoint, anyway. Yet what the 90 minutes lacked in laughs, it made up for with ripped abs, heaving breasts, and maddening contradictions.



Andy got psyched for first group date ? not a tough task, considering the 7-1 woman-to-man ratio ? by declaring "Operation: Soulmate is about to begin!" And what better way to start a meaningful search for love than by packing the babes onto a "party bus," driving down to the Sunset Strip, and watching them ride a mechanical bull that's programmed to stop mid-buck, vibrate wildly, and cause violent cleavage convulsions? Next stop, a rooftop bar, where Andy presented his dates with racks of ballgowns, then declared, "I can't wait to see you all in your beautiful dresses. I'm so glad you like them," as if he was reading off a cue card. Clearly the officer/gentleman's mind was drifting toward the swimsuit competition, and a short while later, after toasting to "a very classy evening," our hero suggested it was time to slip into something more comfortable, revealed his enviably chiseled torso, and let the gals go in for a group grope. A very classy evening indeed!

But not to worry, ladies of Group Date No. 2, ABC wasn't about to rob you of the opportunity to shake what your mamas gave you ? so let's start the morning by donning retro gym shorts, downing some mimosas, and participating in a mini triathlon (which will consist of a lap-swim, stationary bike, and slo-mo jiggling as you sprint around the rooftop pool). Bounce, Amber, bounce! You're the winner! You get to snuggle on the beach with Andy and drive your competitors into a delicious rage. And sorry, Susan and Erin, but Andy is not the kind of guy who's impressed by watching you hold hands, giggle, and declare your aversion to physical activity. But keep an eye out for those Spice Channel auditions.

And then there was the one-on-one date with Stephanie South Carolina, the "organ donor coordinator" who's being edited to look like she enjoys harvesting kidneys and livers before the benefactors have even passed. My favorite moment involved the toothy troublemaker's crazed conviction that she'd uncovered Alexis' secret virginity, as if she could somehow sniff out her competitor's lack of sexual experience like a police dog to a cache of illicit drugs. That said, I was actually a little bit impressed that Stephanie S.C. got a little goofy reenacting scenes from Titanic aboard Andy's yacht. I also dug Andy's "I see a beautiful woman!" shtick, which, combined with his use of words like "ravishing," "radiant," and "glorious" (as opposed to the standard Bachelor adjectives like "awesome," "amazing," and "great"), makes him the most intellectually advanced Bachelor in, well, ever.

Of course, given that closing-credits scene of Nicole, Susan, and Alexis struggling with that tricky math equation ? There are 15 women remaining; Andy has already given out one rose; there are 11 roses on the table; how many women will end up going home without a rose? ? let's not forget gauging intelligence in The Bachelor universe is a strictly relative matter.

What did you think of this season's second episode? And is the show keeping its spot on your DVR for the rest of the season?

Al Gore took another step toward sainthood ? or at least becoming the next Bob Geldof ? when the musical acts for his Live Earth concert extravaganza were announced today. As you'll recall, the 24-hour, globally simulcast program will take place on July 7th (you know, 07/07/07, which symbolizes... well, I don't know what) and feature scores of artists grinding out tunes in seven concerts on seven continents (oh, I get it now!) in order to raise awareness for climate crisis. The stars are a diverse lot, and, I must say, a pretty impressive one, too. Here are some of the bigger names:

Performing in London

? Beastie Boys

? Black-Eyed Peas

? Duran Duran

? Foo Fighters

? Genesis

? James Blunt

? John Legend

? Madonna

? Red Hot Chili Peppers

Performing in New Jersey

? Alicia Keys

? Bon Jovi

? Dave Matthews Band

? John Mayer

? Kanye West

? Kelly Clarkson

? Sheryl Crow

? Smashing Pumpkins

? The Police

So there you have it. Thoughts? Concerns? How do you think this lot compares to Live Aid's 1985 roster? Or to that of Live 8 two summers ago? What about major acts like Madonna (pictured) and the Police roughing it with all sorts of flavors-of-the-moment? Where the bleep is U2? Maybe they'll appear at one of the other five concerts, whose lineups have yet to be announced. Even still, will you tune in?

Here we go, PopWatchers! This week's box office discussion topic: Grindhouse. The three-hour, R-rated Quentin Tarantino-Robert Rodriguez exploitation-flick homage way way way underperformed on its opening weekend, grossing just $11.6 mil. That weekend total was less than half of what most pundits were prognosticating. It was even smaller than the paltry $13.8 mil that that other big buzz ready made cult hit disappointment, Snakes on a Plane, earned in its debut last year, and it is probably the highest-profile flop of the wascally Weinstein brothers' celebrated career. Boy, as Mercedes McCambridge famously once said, "It burns! It burns!"

What the hell went wrong? Well, the blame game has credited the film's excessive length in limiting the number of shows per day and deterring some viewers, while some observers have speculated that maybe Easter weekend wasn't the best time to release an ultraviolent R-rated splatterfest. And Harvey Weinstein has gone on record saying that he regrets not having split up the movie's two halves into separate releases all along. EW.com alumna Justine Elias has suggested that the Grindhouse marketing campaign made a mistake when it created largely male-appeal ads ? a major lapse considering the badass heroines played by the likes of Rosario Dawson (pictured) and Rose McGowan that female viewers might have appreciated. And others have looked at the success of 300 and argued that studios certainly may deliberately make movies that are hardly highbrow as long as the films are shiny and cool-looking. Grindhouse, of course, is made in the style of cheap '70s crapola, and it looks it.

Sure, that's intentional, but I don't think the icky feeling now sweeping through the Weinstein Company was. After all, the movie got strong reviews and all sorts of press going into its premiere. The fledgling company admits to having spent upwards of $75 million to produce and market Grindhouse (and, of course, that's just the expenditures they're admitting to). But even if the film is split in two and given a special re-release of some sort down the line, as Harvey has said he's considering, it's got a long road to profitability. Consider: its level of violence means it can't be shown on regular TV, its fan base appears to be much more limited than those of Tarantino's or Rodriguez's previous films like Pulp Fiction and Sin City, and the summer movie season (with giant franchise pictures set to dominate every weekend) is almost here. In other words, Grindhouse's window of opportunity has all but closed.

Anyway, what's your take on all this? How could the Weinsteins have prevented such a debacle? Does this damage the former Miramaxers' reputation as a pair of execs who have the magic touch when it comes to churning out moneymakers? Do you think they can still salvage this film and steer it to profitability? Is Grindhouse's inevitable eventual status as a cult flick good enough?

I've made no attempt to hide my admiration for John Travolta on this here website over the past few months. Besides being a strong actor with diverse tastes in the movies he makes and the parts he plays, the star is one of the nicest guys in Hollywood, in my experience, and he always seems to talk frankly and honestly when a reporter puts a microphone in front of him.

So it didn't surprise me to read Travolta's recent comments in London's Independent newspaper, in which he apparently expresses some regret about the roles he turned down and path he has taken. The actor says he could have had Richard Gere's roles in An Officer and a Gentleman and Chicago and Tom Hanks' parts in Splash and The Green Mile, and indeed Travolta says that he's jealous of Hanks' career.

Well, my gosh, who wouldn't be? And, of course, setting aside the films Travolta turned down, he's made some even more boneheaded decisions in the movies that he actually opted to do (Battlefield Earth, duh, among others). He may have had more ups and downs than anybody in Hollywood, but can we really criticize him for taking on somewhat daring mainstream projects like Primary Colors or risky indie fare like White Man's Burden or A Love Song for Bobby Long just because critics or the ticket-buying public may not have embraced them? I mean, as my colleague Gary Susman argues, when he's up there getting an Honorary Oscar in 20 years, people will remember Saturday Night Fever, Grease, Urban Cowboy, Get Shorty, and Pulp Fiction rather than, you know, Perfect. Moreover, when you look at how much someone like Clint Eastwood (who, heck, played opposite an orangutan... more than once!) has done to spruce up his legacy in the waning years of his career, it's clear that Travolta, who's only 53, has plenty of time to make us forget his embarrassing turn as the hulking alien Terl. Don'tcha think? Shouldn't the erstwhile Tony Zuko Vega buck up?