A. Some of you might recall a blog post I wrote a few months ago, when I detailed “Serpent’s Lair,” perhaps the worst film in the history of modern cinema. I talked about being 23 and lonely and watching the flick and, well, you got the idea.
Anyhow, to my true shock, Serpent’s Lair—like, all of it—is available for free right here. On the internet. On YouTube. Free! I watched a bit tonight and, I must say, it sucks. Like, royally. A bad movie with bad actors and a bad script. So bad, it’s engrossing. Well, sort of engrossing. In small pieces. But, really, it’s just awful.
B. I know I have thin skin and should be ashamed and blah, blah, blah, but I’d regret not commenting on a column I somehow missed when it originally ran last month. The piece, written by a sports editor named Lou Babiarz of the Bismarck Tribune, rips Sweetness (although, once again, the author admitted he hadn’t, ahem, read the book). But that’s not all—it also rips me. Personally. Here, check this …
Writes Babiarz: “I’ve met Pearlman. When I was a sports clerk at the Champaign News-Gazette in the early 1990s, Pearlman spent a summer there as an intern. In our limited interaction, he was not enjoyable to be around. Pearlman has described himself as ‘way too cocky’ at that time, which hardly begins to cover it. It was 20 years ago. Hopefully he’s done some growing up since.”
I probably can’t rank Babiarz’s work as the worst thing I’ve seen on the book, because, well, I haven’t compiled official rankings. But the slap at my Urbana Summer from Hell is a bit, mmm, incomplete. To recap the worst seven weeks of my life, from June/July of 1992: I was 20-years old, insanely immature and unprepared for being away from home for the first time. I broke both my ankles (well, one was merely a severe sprain), lived by myself without a working TV, made $5.25 per hour, was the only intern under 21 and/or without a fake ID. I don’t even remember Babiarz, so I can’t comment on him specifically. But with rare exception, few went out of their way to help/assist/guide an idiot college kid whose strut (obnoxious as I’m sure it was) only served to hide horrible insecurity and limited self-confidence (and terrible loneliness).
Instead, he is offended. Angry. Pissed.