You'd think nothing bad could come of the "The Blair Witch Project's" runaway success, but The Passenger knows better. For one thing, I've read at least a million reviews that begin with "We sent our reviewer to the theater, and four days later, his (or her) notes were found." Wow, how inventive. I've seen Heather Donohue on every damn television program in which bipeds are interviewed and she's every bit as snotty as she was in the "movie." The "Blair Witch" flask! And though I haven't seen any yet, I know the film has almost certainly has provided raw material for several unfunny "Saturday Night Live" skits - perhaps some with music. Get us the hell out of these woods, Heather.

Last week I went on the Manhattan Express, the rollercoaster that circles the New York-New York hotel and casino, here in Fabulous Las Vegas. Short form: I think it ought to be condemned. The ride was less smooth by half than the Vegas valley's other mega-coaster, the Desperado, and that's factoring in the 225-foot drop that caused me to convert to Christianity for, oh, six seconds ("Oh... My ... GOD!"). But my opinion is that of a mildly seasoned amateur, whereas Lance Hart, the effervescent creator and voice of Screamscape, is a professional from the soles of his shoes to the last startled follicle on his head. Screamscape, quite simply, celebrates the thrill ride - from coasters to simulators. A "rumors" section covers thrill rides in development, from Disney World to Vegas. An illustrated list of the ten scariest wood coasters in America followed in short order by the twenty most frightening steel coasters. Just looking at Hart's list made my stomach flip like a Hong Kong martial arts star. Screamscape is dizzying, sure ... and more fun than the Manhattan Express could ever be.
 

Remember all that fabulous post-war furniture you used and abused growing up? That sculptured Jan Eskelius lounge you treated as a trampoline? Those Quattroquarti quartered interlocking tables, circa 1969, designed by Rodolfo Bonetto for cocktails and slick photo magazines but used by you as a place to scribble with crayons? Well, you don't want to know how high a premium they've earned with mellowed age. You had better sit down before you visit Retromodern.com, a peerless online showroom of contemporary furniture, accessories and objects. Encompassing restored objects and new designs, Retromodern can make your living space into rounded, metallic, future-smart utopia - just in time for your children to destroy it. Now you know why mom put those plastic covers on the couch.
 

In the interest of disclosure, I have to tell you that I've known Matthew Selznick, creator of the Sovereign Serials, since 1980. That may be why I was resistant to mention his web-based science fiction serial in this space (oh, cursed ambivalence). Whatever the case, the Sovereign Serials have gotten too good for me to ignore. The concept behind the Serials - ordinary people with psychic ("metahuman") abilities trying to make their way in the world - is a familiar one, but Matthew gives the stories unexpected twists, not the least of which is setting the action in the Reagan 80's - not exactly the warmest, fuzziest period in recent history. The fear and anxiety of the Cold War is turned inward, brought to bear on the "enemies" in our midst: A doctor who takes vigilantism to an terrifying extreme only to become a spiritual leader, a widower seeking to discover the source of her clairvoyance who finds a different kind of clarity and purpose, and a high school boy blessed (or cursed) with heightened senses who must suppress them in the interests of self-preservation. The world of Sovereign Serials is a real one. Never do you feel like you're reading somebody's cheesy fanboy schlock or an unproduced Akiva Goldsman script. As with life, the most remarkable occurrences in the Sovereign Serials are those that happen out of your sight, lurking around a corner you never thought to turn.
 

Glue. It's part of the periodic table, isn't it? No? Well, it should be. (So should martinis and Pop Tarts and actor Stanley Tucci.) For those who recognize its value, This to That is a godsend -- a page that takes glue's elemental and sociological importance as a given, and just tells you how to glue something to something else. Attaching fabric to metal? That's easy: use 3M77 spray adhesive, but don't inhale the stuff under any circumstances. Vinyl to rubber? Use Le Page's Press-Tite solvent-based contact adhesive or Barges Glue. Don't use hot glue, thought - you'll get unsightly lumps. (Do not send The Passenger pictures of your vinyl / rubber union or your unsightly lumps, thank you very much.) All told, it's a worthy tribute to glue and all its guises - Zap-A-Gap, Rhoplex, Yamato Sticking Paste, even the ever popular Krazy Glue. We'll need all of these, to keep this wacky world together.

Another thing that chafes me: people that call that recent Claire Danes / Kate Beckinsale film "Broken Down Palace." It's "Brokedown Palace," friends. Cheers!