More Like "My Scene Repeatedly Visits The Stall In The Ladies Room"

Now on shelves near you! Sure, the new Lindsay Lohan doll comes with a director's chair and a velvet rope. But in their rush to get the product into stores, Mattel didn't have time to go back and change the doll's hair to match LiLo's newly blonde look. Maybe next year's model will correct this oversight. In order to strive for authenticity, Todd MacFarlane stizz, might your Uncle Grambo also suggest that Version 2.0 come with a scratched jewel case, credit card and a rolled up Ben Franklin? BOW!

Over the first nine holes yesterday's PGA Championship, it looked like The Hefty Lefty's old days as the tour's premier Choke Artist were catching up to him. Which is why it was nice to see him recover from the rough patch with a timely birdie before play was called. Even though I'm a big fan of Elkie, I'm pulling for Mick to pull it out when play resumes this morning. [UPDATE: Leftie birdied 18 to win today! Congrats, yo ... maybe now you can finally afford a manzier!]

The new video from Dave Matthews Band apparently stars Julia Roberts. Mediocrity has never sounded so dull.

Stick a spanner in The Darkness — they're done.

Bill Clinton: Back To Mine?

Baby, tramps like us and we like tramps. Too bad that the upcoming Hold Steady tour looks like it's going to skip Detroit. It's beginning to feel like 2002 all over again, a year in which virtually every mid-level indie band skipped Detroit. Worst!

Despite the fact that it resets a classic scene in "Romancing The Stone" in a way that would make even Quentin Tarantino proud, Brent DiCrescenzo's Pitchfork piece calling out hipsters everywhere for not supporting the musical legacy of The Doobie Brothers is probably the single most tiresome and contrived treatise that your Uncle Grambo has read in 2005. This is the work of a writer who is clearly inspired by the oeuvre of "Chuckles" Klosterman, which in and of itself isn't necessarily a bad thing. Only this author trades Klosterman's authentically passionate Everyman-type writing style for something that instead caters to pseudo-hipster record store geekstinkbreath thirtysomething wannabes. Classic rock is still classic, but this mock appreciation of comes off as phonier than Ashlee on SNL.