Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are and Wes Anderson's Fantastic Mr. Fox got Matt thinking about what it means to take books for children and make them into movies for adults.

From "Street Fighter’ to "Watch Me Kill as Many Innocent People as Possible,” Mitchell Frye dissects the decade in video games.

Can you believe it's only now that someone has been dubbed the "Craigslist Killer?"  I can't.  But it's true.  Of course, this isn't the first time that someone has ended up dead with Craigslist's circumstantial involvement this year; last month radio man George Weber was killed in his Brooklyn apartment by a teenage hooker he picked up o

Besides the fact that I'm a week late, there's really no reason that I should be saying dick about the life and work of John Hughes.  I say this not because I'm biased against him or I need to disclose some sort of precondition that makes me ethically ineligible to pass judgment in this particular situation.  I say this because I'm a rare case: I'm probably one of a small handful of pop culture obsessed near-thirty year olds who has a very minor relationship with his work; either I was too young or too sheltered in my youth, but his work never meant a great deal to me.  Sure, I've seen the Breakfast Club and I've seen Ferris Bueller, but I haven't seen Pretty in Pink in its entirety and have seen maybe 60% of Sixteen Candles total after about twelve attempted viewings, on VHS and cable.  It might be sacrilege, but I kind of hate his films, or at least they mean nothing to me.  But that doesn't mean that they aren't totally representative of their era; in fact, my dispassion for them might validate how iconic they truly are.