Don’t miss Pajiba’s 10 best movies of 2007 that you didn’t see.

Galley Friend B.W. sends us this excellent list of things that happened in 2007 that shouldn’t have.

Also, I’m dimly aware that some studio committed to Blu-Ray today, but I don’t know who or what and I’m worried that it will involve The Dark Knight.

How much would you pay to see Penelope Cruz making out with her equally hot sister? Well that’s a question you don’t have to answer.

Because it’s actually free.

Someone should get a team of scientists and ethicists and philosophers on this, pronto.

(Cue Dr. Ellie Arroway: “They should have sent a poet . . .”)

Galley Hero Elizabeth Hackett returns to her journalism roots to write this strike-related piece for Pajamas Media. It’s frackin’ awesome:

Fade in. Ext. Paramount Pictures – Day.

Like any memorable Act Three plot twist, we never saw it coming. As Hollywood writing partners who have collaborated on nine scripts together over the past five years, we’re forced to spend a lot of time together. Like hostages without a bank robbery. As a result, we can talk about anything for hours. And we mean anything. Not just movie ideas. We once had a full five-minute debate about how burned a piece of toast would have to be before neither one of us would eat it. We’ve weathered the ups and downs of show business, but after nearly two months on the WGA picket line and sixty-plus hours of walking in a circle together, the unthinkable happened: we ran out of conversation. We trudged silently, unsure where to go from here.

Long ago, on Day One of the strike, we chose Paramount as our picketing location. (Nothing personal, Paramount. You’re a closer commute. And you have free parking.) Sure, we were worried about being unemployed and broke, but we support our union and as comedy writers, we’d “find the funny” in picketing. When life hands you a lemon, peel off a twist, plop it into your martini, and look at the upside (the martini helps here). We’d absorb some fresh air and Vitamin D instead of sitting behind a computer all day. We’d meet single men (the WGA is 70-something% male, after all). We’d rub elbows with A-list writers, dazzling Aaron Sorkin with off-the-cuff improvised rants like “We won’t stop screamin’ til you pay us for streamin’!” and soothing our aching feet at post-picket pedicures with Susannah Grant.

Or, at the very least, get a wacky Christmas card picture out of it.

We must confess something. We dressed up for our first 10-2 PM shift. No jeans or oversized red WGA XXL T-shirts for us. If we hoped to romantically tangle picket signs in a meet-cute with the single male creator of a hit syndicated TV show (insert title card: “Love on the Line”), then makeup and an attractive ensemble were in order. One of us even wore boots.

This plan got a major rewrite ten minutes after we signed in. . . .

Not that you care–because really, this isn’t going to change your life in the least bit–but posting will be very thin the next week or so while I do some work for a much better blog.

That said, Variety has a neat piece up about the ten biggest things that didn’t happen in 2007 in the entertainment industry. Very good stuff.

Happy New Year. Just a few thoughts on things I heard and saw during the Christmas holiday:

On an interminable drive to Connecticut (a mere eight and a half hours from DC), I popped in a new CD entitled Frank Sinatra: The Christmas Collection, which certainly has its share of classics, including a few duets with Bing Crosby. On the other hand, there were a handful of tracks (clearly from the later years) worth skipping, namely “Christmas Memories,” “An Old Fashioned Christmas,” “A Baby Just Like You” (perhaps one of the worst), “Whatever Happened to Christmas?” and anything involving Nancy and Frank Jr. (such as “The Twelve Days of Christmas”). I got it at a discount but yet again, the case for iTunes has been made.

I also came across the Hallmark Channel’s A Grandpa for Christmas starring Ernest Borgnine. The movie, about a grandfather trying to reconnect with his family, seemed to be more of a pitstop for the once-famous: Besides Borgnine, there was Jamie Farr, Katherine Helmond, Richard Libertini, and even Tracy Nelson (who looked better as a young nun). For the record, my father-in-law had possession of the remote control and that’s why I watched it to the bitter end. And no, there was something in my eye that caused me to tear.

On the other hand, my father-in-law’s recommendation we watch Foyle’s War turned out to be excellent. Starring Michael Kitchen as a British detective solving mysteries on the homefront during WWII, the series is a slow-churning but rewarding crime drama with each episode more than an hour long.

And finally, there were the Kennedy Center honors, which were largely enjoyable to watch (particularly De Niro’s tribute to Scorsese, Ricky Jay performing just one card trick for Steve Martin, Steve Carell’s remarks, and all of the Leon Fleisher segment). But then came the homage to Brian Wilson. Strangely, none of the other Beach Boys were in attendance. Wilson himself does not look well and showed little emotion throughout. I understand the man suffered terrible bouts of depression and is better now, but I truly feared he would leap off the president’s box when the band paying tribute to his songs turned out to be none other than Hootie and the Blowfish.

Why Hootie and the Blowfish? God only knows.

If you have kids, you might want to check out NORAD’s Santa Tracker tonight. Its Cold War technology put to excellent use.

Have a great Christmas and New Year, see you in 2008.

This affectionate profile of Sam Waterston doesn’t have any bombshells in it, but it’s short and fun. And it contains a quote from Dick Wolf that sums up what I find most remarkable about Waterston’s run on Law & Order, which I judge to be one of the great achievements in television history:

“After all these years, I’ve never once seen him phone in a performance.”

Me neither, and God knows, that would be easy to do with that role.