For those who think one of the titans of contemporary film criticism has gone soft because of his health issues ought to read this open-letter smackdown he gives to his former Chicago Sun-Times colleague, resigned sportswriter Jay Mariotti, for talking trash about the newspaper business during a TV interview. We're talking a good-ol', back-handed, class ring-wearing, you've-been-out-on-the-street-all-night-and-all-you-got-is-a-lousy-$20 jackslapping here.

In the letter, Ebert represents not only for his paper, but for the daily newspaper in general:

"Newspapers are not dead, Jay, because there are still readers who want the whole story, not a sound bite. If you only work on television, viewers may get a little weary of you shouting at them. You were a great shouter in print, that's for sure, stomping your feet when owners, coaches, players and fans didn't agree with you. It was an entertaining show. Good luck getting one of your 1,000-word rants on the air."

See, I told you the boy still has some fire left in him. And I thought giving props to this DOA flick was the gutsiest thing he's done recently.

Remember last week when I mentioned that Maxwell was finally leaving the house and going out on tour this fall? Well, count Greensboro as a stop on his tour. On November 14th, he'll be performing at the Coliseum Theatre. Sadly, unless he has a change of heart anytime soon, he won't be coming to Raleigh. (The full list of cities is on his MySpace page.) But hey, Greensboro is only an hour away.

Until then, here's that slithering-around-the-floor video that put the boy on the map.

In today's Sup:

— Two reviews: "Death Race" and "Baghead."

—A piece where I interview the Human League frontman Phillip Oakey.

There is not much happening on the film-screening front this week. However, there is a Retrofantasma double bill at the Carolina tonight. It's "Alligator" and "Piranha." Now, tell me, you aren't feeling that! I don't know what's more hilarious: that they're both cheesy killer-amphibian movies, or they're both scripted by this guy.

And I just got word that there will be a Wednesday-night screening of this movie called "Taken For A Ride." It's about an auto and oil industry campaign to buy and dismantle transit systems across the country. This will apparently be the first in a series of free movies focusing on transit. For more info,  go to this Web site.

I'm in a giving mood at this moment, so I'm giving you three versions of today's day-brightener. But, at as always, you can never top the original. (Even though the two that follow it comes pretty close.)

Dang. But don't forget, he was also the brotha that put it on this fake TV newswoman.

And the dead just keeps on dying. If it the figurative death of the film critic hasn’t been bad enough, an actual film critic turned in his last review recently. Influential critic Manny Farber went to the big art exhibit in the sky late last Sunday. Glenn Kenny and James Wolcott have less cornier words for the man who gave us this much-revered tome, while Green Cine Daily has been keeping tabs on the online-appreciation front.

Now comes word that a Spinner is dead. This is officially getting out of hand.

This online teaser for the Foreign Exchange’s new album has officially got me feenin’ for its release.

Say what you will about Ernest Borgnine, but the man certainly knows how to liven up a horrible morning show. (I would’ve still preferred not to know about this.)

Apparently, Claire Danes didn’t see “Tropic Thunder” this weekend like everyone else, or else she wouldn’t have decided to get her “Simple Jack” on in her next project. Here’s hoping she doesn’t go full you-know-what.

After everything she’s been through, is it too early to begin referring to Christina Applegate as Xena Applegate?

I still haven’t seen this film — and, God willing, it’s going to stay that way. I don’t care if you’ll be able to sing-along with it in another week.

Maxwell will be heading out on tour this fall. (Is there really anything else that needs to be said?)

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see Joan Allen slum.

It certainly does it for me, and most of you know nothing can do that — well, except for this photo.

I have to give a shout-out to Joe Scott, Greensboro film critic and host of “The Movie Show,” a radio program which I have made several appearances recently. Starting in September, he will begin a monthly film series at Greensboro's Carousel Cinemas called “The Mixed Tape Film Series.” Basically, a monthly movie night for cinephiles and film geeks like Joe, he’s gonna start it off with “The Big Lebowski” on September 3rd.

Sounds like a great idea. Except for one, small thing . . .

Now, I like Joe, despite his sunny disposition, complete lack of cynicism toward the movie industry and constant knack of letting people know he’s been with a lot of women. But even I had to call him up and ask, “Are you really going to go ahead with calling this the ‘mixed tape’ film series?”

Mixed tape? When in the history of mixed tapes have you heard a mixtape referred to as a “mixed tape”? Even a blogger at the Greensboro News & Record thought this was a typo and corrected it for him. On a recent blog post discussing the subject, he notes that there is a definition in the online Urban Dictionary, a definition he's standing by. However, he ignores the zero thumbs up/thumbs down comment votes the definition received. I'm guessing since no one refers to mixtapes as "mixed tapes," no one bothered to look it up. (Since Joe is going by this definition, I clicked a thumb up for him.)

So, he’s going ahead with the title, planning to print up T-shirts and everything. (I so want one of those. Remember, Joe, 3XL!) Well, God speed anyway, my friend. And here's hoping you don't get a lot of chop-busting from DJs and wannabe rappers at those screenings.

So many things wrong with this photo (hat tip: the one-and-only Brian McManus), so little time.

— Two reviews: “Tropic Thunder” (in Wednesday, Life, etc.) and “Henry Poole Is Here” (in today’s ‘Sup).
— A Pop Life interview with “American Teen” director Nanette Burstein, which already incited an irate reader to call me up and chastise me for not calling the filmmaker on her more “outrageous” statements. (She also said this is what she expects from a “bad journalist” who wrote a piece a few weeks back about lusting after Angelina Jolie, even though that’s so not what I said in the piece. Oh, nutjob readers, how much you amuse me!)

As for film-worthy things to do in the next few days, right now, the Carolina Theatre is in the LGBT swing of things with its 13th Annual Gay & Lesbian Festival (which I reported on last week).

Later in the week, the Colony will have His Royal Badness performing in one of their auditoriums. That’s where “Purple Rain” will play as this month’s “Cool Classics” flick on Wednesday night. (Jealous, Jason?)

Finally, I just have to report that you will have not one, but two chances to see “Juno” on a gigantic outdoor screen tomorrow night. The N.C. Museum of Art will be playing it at 8:30. However, 30 minutes later, the NCSU Campus Cinema will have one of its free “Screen on the Green” shows at Harris Field and play it there. If you are blind or have low vision, I suggest heading over to the N.C. Museum, since it will include audio description courtesy of Arts Access. If you’re just broke, head over to N.C. State.

CORRECTION: In my "Henry Poole" review, I say the water stain in the movie looks like Jesus Christ. But, according to this TV ad I just saw and several other reports to the contrary, it's actually the "face of God." (Call me crazy, but I thought it was Christ since it's more plausible, considering there are paintings of him and all that.) So, remember, it's not Jesus, it's his daddy. I can't wait until the church-going folk get on my case about that one — "It's not Jesus, it's God! Do your research!"