William Ayers, favorite punching bag of rageoholic conservative bloggers, isn’t reading at the 14th & V Busboys & Poets tonight as planned. The bookstore just sent an e-mail blast:

Due to the large number of people and media who want to attend the event with William Ayers, we have moved it to a venue that can accommodate a larger audience. It will be held at: All Souls Church, 1500 Harvard Street NW, Washington, DC 20009. The entrance is on Harvard between 15th and 16th. Street parking is available and it is walking distance from the Columbia Heights Metro.

The reading starts at 6:30 p.m. Should be interesting to see how much heckling takes place in a church…

Lots of new movies this week. Click on titles to visit each film’s roundup of reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, with the exception of Quantum of Solace and My Name Is Bruce, whose blueness will lead you to my own humble opinions. Shockingly, the majority of these releases are receiving several upward thumbs; must be Oscar season.

THE CANDY:
Quantum of Solace — Not only is the line “Bond, James Bond” never uttered here, dude has to check with the bartender when someone asks what he’s drinking. A refreshing new direction in the decades-old franchise, if not quite as spectacular as Casino Royale.
My Name Is Bruce — Bruce Campbell directs and stars as…Bruce Campbell. Cheesy fun for diehard fans, but not nearly as entertaining as Campbell’s similarly toned Bubba Ho-tep.

THE MEDICINE:
Momma’s Man — Its title and summary — stunted middle-aged man moves back in with his parents — screams that wackiness will ensue. But, surprise, this is a drama, and a highly praised one at that.
Ballast — A drama about a man’s suicide in the Mississippi Delta region; IMDb’s synopsis contains the words “embattled,” “emotionally devastated,” “fury,” “bitter,” and “conflict.” So it’s not quite the ticket if you’re looking for something uplifting, but it’s gotten solid grades nonetheless.
Pray the Devil Back to Hell — A documentary about women fighting to end civil war in Liberia.
Stranded: I Have Come From a Plane That Crashed on the Mountains –A documentary whose title pretty much says it all regarding the 1972 crash of a plane containing a rugby team from Uruguay.

MEDICINE WITH A SPOONFUL OF SUGAR:
Slumdog Millionaire — Danny Boyle’s drama about an impoverished Indian teen who wins big money on his country’s version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? A thoroughly uplifting story, with a side of social commentary on the hardships facing kids growing up in Mumbai.

In late December of last year, I wrote a cover story questioning whether the devastating Eastern Market fire might in fact have been caused by arson. The piece used several anonymous fire fighters, documents, and memos to make the case. Not only had Eastern Market been caused by arson, there may be another serial arsonist roaming Cap. Hill.

Of course, I confronted the Fire Chief Dennis L. Rubin. He got real hostile:

“When asked about the surveillance operation, Rubin replied: “May I ask who told you?â€� After this reporter refused to reveal his sources, the chief threatened him, saying: “I’m going to report you to the federal authorities [if you publish that].â€�

I am still waiting to hear from those federal authorities. This week two firefighters went on the record for a WJLA story. Both claim that the Eastern Market fire was arson.

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I seldom pray anymore, but when I do, I pray for Zombie Apocalypse. That’s right: I long for a scorched globe ravaged by nuclear fallout and inhabited by the living dead. I fantasize about charting and following an escape route out of the District and establishing a post-apocalyptic, libertarian paradise. But mostly, I dream of fucking up zombies, all day. Every day.

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Most film geeks will already have seen most of the movies whose endings these two dudes reveal — or, in the case of the romcoms, probably wouldn’t sit through them even if they got paid. (Note to those who use that expression: Getting paid doesn’t make cinematic dreck any less painful.)

But be warned that they might spoil a movie you may actually care about.

I especially liked the Rocky and Meg Ryan runs. (Not so much the Heath Ledger joke — too soon for me, even nearly a year later.)

“Why the HELL are there remakes?” Enjoy…

Lots of chatter this week in newspapers and blogs about the news that William Ayers will speak at Busboys & Poets on Monday. Nobody really took much notice of this when I blogged about it about a month back. Clearly I need to take more swigs of whatever Michelle Malkin’s drinking:

The violence-embracing Marxist is on the lecture and media circuit, hawking his repackaged memoir, promoting a new book on race, and basking in all the post-Obama victory attention.

While pondering the idea of how glorious it must feel to bask in all the attention you’ll get at a reading at Busboys & Poets—on a Monday night!—scroll through the comments of Malkin’s post, which ponders shooting Ayers for treason or bombing his house. Must be part of that Republican party-rebuilding effort I’ve been hearing about.

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Around this time of year, most altruistic folks will be thinking about donating their time to shelters or the Salvation Army. Good stuff, that.

However, if you’re more of the stay-at-home, cinematically obsessed type, here’s the cause for you: AFI Silver’s 2009 Silverdocs Festival is seeking volunteers to watch and rate its submissions to help programmers choose the standouts for the big event, scheduled June 9 - 15.

To reiterate: You’ll be reviewing movies. For an outlet way bigger and more influential than your crappy blog.

It’s a pretty sweet deal, with the chosen screeners receiving not only a bunch of free movies but also an all-access pass to the area’s consistently excellent fest and—and—free year-round tickets to AFI Silver (with some exceptions).

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Somebody just told me that today was a Federal holiday.

If I had a regular job, I would’ve spent the day doing this (warning: that’s me in the spandex):

Can’t watch it? Click here. And for the love of Allah, don’t tell me what you did today.

Thank you so much for notifying me that you will be breaking your autumn tradition of harvesting dried cornstalks and checking on your old-fashioned maple taps to visit our like-minded small-town neighbors in Chevy Chase, Md., to talk about your new cookbook on Thursday.

I imagine that it must be very important for you to come here, leaving Aunt Sissy and Neighbor Clara to bale the hay and make the grapevine wreaths without you. From what I read each month in your column in Cook’s Illustrated, you are a very folksy person and it’s clear to me that even a magazine mogul, newspaper columnist, and public television star can and must find time to milk his own cows and churn his own butter. I just want you to know that even though you seem to be mining old material every month and came off in the Post as a crotchety middle-aged man in a bowtie, I believe you. I believe you are a real life Bostonian and Vermonter (since I know you own homes in both places) and appreciate you leaving all of your many homespun chores there to try and shill your book. God bless you and God bless the perfect apple pies only you know how to make.

Love from your No. 1 fan,
Jule

(photo by Tim Somero)

Let’s be blunt: There’s not a lot of good cinema out there these days. And considering we’re already into Oscar-trolling season, for film lovers that’s a picture bleaker than Synecdoche, New York. (Well, maybe not that bad.)

Starting Thursday, however, you’ll have some alternatives — and best of all, they’re free. The Brazilian Embassy is hosting its second annual Première Brazil Washington, a selection of features, shorts, and a kids’ program stopping at American University’s Greenburg Theatre after runs in Rio and New York City.

The festival ends Sunday, Nov. 16; for schedule details and descriptions of the films themselves visit the Embassy’s site.

And don’t forget AFI’s annual European Showcase, continuing through Nov. 25. For ticket details and descriptions of the remaining films (often future Academy Award contenders) go to AFI Silver.

Buried in today’s Style section is a story about what the Post dug up when it filed a FOIA request on author Norman Mailer, who died last year. There’s not a whole lot of shocking news in the files, which may explain why it’s buried in the Style section—Feds impersonated friends to extract Mailer’s whereabouts, but otherwise the file seems largely stuffed with press clippings.

There’s a big missed opportunity here, though. There are plenty of Mailer scholars—or just garden-variety lit nerds like myself—who’d love a peek at the file. So why won’t washingtonpost.com, which prides itself on pioneering new ways to make stories sticky and engaging online—post a few jpegs or PDFs from it? If nothing else, I’d like to see the FBI agent’s attempt at a review of Mailer’s book about the ‘68 conventions, Miami and the Seige of Chicago. “It is written in his usual obscene and bitter style,” the agent explained.