Who says doing time has to be a bad experience? The new Halden Fengsel prison in Norway is a criminal's dream: It boasts running trails, rock climbing, a recording studio, and offers cooking courses set in a sleek, Ikea-like facility.
There is a warrant out for the muff-diving drunk-driving star of I Know Who Killed Me Lindsay Lohan. The warrant was issued by the LAPD last night but need Lohan be worried?
We may be isolated in the cold of Park City, but at least we can reasonably assume a relatively low risk of shootings, stabbings and other moviegoing carnage plaguing other parts of the country.
Like the Iraqi journalist who threw his shoes at President Bush, a Philadelphia moviegoer earned instant folk-hero status on Christmas by shooting a viewer who wouldn't shut up during The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, we suppose: Sneak celebrities' medical records to the National Enquirer, collect $4,700 and quietly go back to your day job knowing you helped a venerable journalistic institution uphold its mission of transparency and insight into the fraught conditions of Britney Spears, Farrah Fawcett and others. But that was then, and this — a guilty plea and a possible 10-year prison sentence for tabloid source Lawanda Jackson — is now.
We thought the cult of Scarface — from the quaint, Capone-influenced 1932 original to the salty, bloody 1983 remake and ultimately the 2006 video game — might have struck its apex with the recent publication of the must-read survey Scarface Nation:The Ultimate Gangster Movie and How It Changed America. But another, far less-touted symbol of the gangster story's grip on our national imagination emerged Monday in the unlikeliest of places: Montgomery County, Ohio, where a newly booked suspect struck us with not only the greatest name-homage in film history, but also an uncanny felony cocaine possession rap. Seriously — the video game is great and everything, but this is attention to detail. Click through for a full-size glimpse. [TSG]
We knew George Lucas had a taste for franchise-rape, but our relatively proscribed imaginations prevented us from conjuring the horror of Lucas and accomplice Steven Spielberg forcibly tag-teaming Indiana Jones not once, not twice, but three times in 30 minutes. But that's what South Park is for, we guess, where the mandate to get tanked on Crystal Head Vodka™ and crossbreed cinema's most notorious rape scenes with Indy's own violation was thriving nicely in last night's episode. We've culled one-third of the NSFW nightmare for your viewing pleasure after the jump; expect the filmmakers' "He was asking for it" defense to arrive here later in the day. [Comedy Central]
