A+E

There are films so bad they make you want to tear out your eyeballs and stuff them into your ear canals. And then there are "offbeat" romantic comedies starring Matthew McConaughey and Sarah Jessica Parker.

That word, "offbeat," originated in the early years of jazz—when radical African-American music rubbed shoulders with dada and surrealism as part of an avant-garde wolf-pack of cutting-edge artforms that ripped Western culture so many new orifices that it damn near bled to death.

Now, "offbeat" is used by turd-polishing PR's to describe movies like Failure to Launch, which, if you haven't already been warned, is so knee-chewingly straight that, had it been made in the 1950s, Doris Day and Rock Hudson would have tossed themselves into speeding traffic to avoid finishing the script read-through.

But "offbeat" is just the latest in a long line of groovy superlatives that have been spat like fireballs from the lips of drug-crazed, mad-eyed, edge-walking, jive-talking folk-devils—only to end their lives as airy-fairy puffballs gently puttering from the distended pink anus of the mainstream hype machine. Take a bow "zany," "far-out," "way-out," "kinky" and "quirky." Give us a wave "gangbusters" and "cooking with gas." Say hello, "funk appeal" and "gnarly."

It won't be long, of course, before the latest Jennifer Aniston vehicle will be described by some white, middle-aged press person as "crunk." Or "da bomb." Or (lord help us) "coo'." But once these once-vital expressions have been thoroughly neutered to the point where any self-respecting teenager would rather punch his face off than use them, where do we find our new bangin' buzzwords?

We go to "the Source," an online "youth ministry" that helps "youth workers reach kids," not least by using the amazing "teen-lingo" slang dictionary (www.thesource4ym.com/teenlingo). This is the best reference tool for suburban Christians intent on taking the gospel to inner city kids ever. Within minutes you'll be "off your rector," parlaying "poppins" street talk like "watch out, it's the po-po."

Or "Oh. Ding Dongs. Come on man, hook me up, let me mack on one of them!"

Or "fo' shiggidy, my weeble," them "woof-ticket-sellin' prostitots" sure "rumpole my bailey,"

Actually, in a desperate attempt to pass myself off as a huge-trousered, sideways-baseball-hat-wearing teen-pagan, I made up "rumpole my bailey." Did you guess?

Okay, my cover's blown. I guess it's time for me to "swayze." (From the dictionary: "swayze: 1. An exit announcement." It literally means, "I'm out like Patrick Swayze in the film Ghost.")

Basil it, chumpstains.

Rolling Stone: You can tell by the cover image—a caricature of President Bush with hubcap-size ears and a dunce cap—that The Stone has its political dander up. Then there's the cover line: "The Worst President Ever?" This isn't new; the magazine has dogged the administration for years. But this piece, by historian Sean Wilentz, soberly, and without too much partisan vitriol, attempts to place Bush in the long historical context of American presidents—and answers its cover question with a convincing, Yeah, probably.

Bachelor Party Vegas (R) (1 star)


$24.96

Cross American Wedding with David Fincher's The Game and the offspring might resemble Bachelor Party Vegas ... but only to those with the eyesight of Mr. Magoo.

Sorry, if that brief description spoils the surprise, but you'll thank me later. There wouldn't be any reason to even bother with this straight-to-video disaster if it weren't for the presence of such likable actors as Kal Penn (Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle), Donald Faison (Scrubs), Jaime Pressly (My Name Is Earl), comedians Kathy Griffin and Jeff Beacher, fighter Chuck Liddell and professional wise- guy Vincent Pastore.

Guys intrigued by the cover art would get the same satisfaction from throwing Franklins at strippers as they drove down Industrial in their SUVs.

Porcelain (NR) (4 stars)


$24.95

The Golden Age of "couples' porn" ended at approximately the same time that videotape replaced 35mm cameras, and today's "gonzo" titles are as far removed from The Opening of Misty Beethoven as Deep Throat was from All the President's Men.

Sharply directed by Celeste, and starring the stunning Czech beauty Jana Cova, Porcelain more closely resembles a Helmut Newton fashion shoot than anything currently on the market.

Cova and her playmates appear in a half-dozen beautifully photographed hard-core and solo vignettes, all of which offer something of interest besides the thrusts and moans.

For couples more inclined toward domination and fetishes, Digital Playground has released a pair of two-disc sets in Robby D's new hi-def "Control" series. Several of the couplings defy description.