Dear Dad,

$chool is $o much fun! I'm enjoying my$elf and having a $uper time. I knew that $enior year would be hard with my the$i$ and the job $earch, but everything i$ just fanta$tic. I can't think of anything that I might po$$ibly need. I really have become very $elf-$ufficient. And all I a$k for i$ your love and $upport. Love, Me

Dear Son,

ANOther letter! I'm so glad to kNOw that you've become uNOfficially independent. Mom tells me you're doing well in your English classes, but I wish you'd trade NOvels for science textbooks -you should take classes in astroNOmy, oceaNOgraphy and ecoNOmics. Have you been to the NOrth End? I hear they have great canNOlis down there. Anytime you need anything, do NOt hesitate to write! Love, Dad

GHOSTS OF THANKSGIVINGS PAST

Hooray for Tryptophan! That glorious amino acid which makes our spirits light and eyelids heavy is also a major ingredient in turkey-hence, after each successive dose of turkey cold cuts, roast turkey, turkey sandwiches, or turkey tetrazini, we find our lazy selves giggling and mirthful over the most inane of things. In this haze of holiday cheer, I spent the four days catching up on my pop culture, but when it was all over, I felt a lingering discomfort in my stomach (maybe it was the butternut squash?). I felt like the wool had been pulled over my eyes-as if something wasn't quite right. I thought and thought and thought... And then I figured it out.

Gasp! We're moving backwards.

Sure, Thanksgiving is supposed to be about carved-in-stone traditions-Detroit Lions NFL games, drippy cranberry sauce, the day after shopping craze, the nationwide massacre of an arbitrary bird, the token acknowledgement of Pilgrim-Indian relations-but where in the bylaws for Turkey Day does it demand that pop culture dissolve into templates?

In movie theaters, it's a wasteland of retreads. Rugrats in Paris and 102 Dalmatians are unwelcome sequels, The Grinch is an uninvited, ill-intentioned remake (it was the first movie I've walked out of since Boxing Helena), The Sixth Day is another Arnold clone (my brother carped, "I saw that last year"; "Nooo. That was End of Days," I answered). Unbreakable has its charms, but it also relies on the same pacing, colors, stars (Willis and a Haley Joel look-alike), and even kitchen (!) as The Sixth Sense. Bounce showcases a been-there-done-that Benneth love affair, Charlie's Angels is a pastiche of allusions, and floundering somewhere in this mix is a Blair Witch sequel which is only seen when other movies at the multiplex are sold out.

Turning your dial to a pop radio station is like turning back to 1999. The Backstreet Boys' new album rehashes track-for-track the pointless pseudo R&B and insufferable ballads of Millennium (cool drinking game: take a shot every time you can name the Millennium song that inspired a new album cut). Perhaps the only interesting thing about Black and Blue is its odd title (didn't you expect something like Jive-in' with the Homies?). The Boys prefer to leave its meaning ambiguous, perhaps because the label chose the title and they're as befuddled as we are, but the consensus is that the "black" refers to their transparent, futile attempts at hip-hop while the "blue" calls attention to their nauseating love songs.

Press "seek" on your radio controls and you might run into Jennifer Lopez' new single, "My Love Don't Cost a Thing," which has a melody eerily similar to "If You Had My Love" (wait! Two complaints: 1) "If You Had My Love" suggested a possibility that you might not get Jen's love while "My Love Don't Cost a Thing" gives up even that token pretense of resistance. What a tramp!... and 2) I think Puff Daddy would disagree. Jennifer's love costs a whole lotta dough. No "Ifs", ands, or butts about it.) Hit "seek" again and you'll also inevitably hear more of Ricky Martin's bastardized Latin pop. Like the BSB, the only interesting thing about Ricky's new album is the title for its first single, "She Bangs." Unfortunately, Bon Bon Ricky can't take credit for pushing the envelope-when asked to explain it, he gushes, "She bangs! It's a metaphor for the universe. You know the big bang theory? So the universe is really this 'mother universe'-she bangs, and explodes. She moves. The planets, the galaxies, are all moving. That's what it means." New rule for pop stars: Sing, Don't Speak.

And just to crystallize my point that we're stuck in a perverse time machine, the University of Miami Hurricanes are threatening for the college football national championship.

IN THE (K)NOW SUPERSTARS!

I went searching for more worthy candidates.

It Boy: Any boy who didn't punch a final club. Congratulations. You have dignity.

It Girl: Sugi Ganeshananthan '02. Gotta love Sugi. The girl's got heart. With a notorious last name (it rhymes with on and on and on) and an acerbic wit, Sugi is the one of the few reasons I can walk into the Harvard Crimson building at 14 Plympton Street without getting nauseous (the others include my beloved Arts editors and my photocopier code). Not only is she good at what she does, but she operates without ulterior motives. How many Harvard people can you say that about?

SOMAN'S SHORTS

Normally my family goes to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving (this would have been trip number 17!), but the pop culture maelstrom of South Florida was too hard to resist. In between lying on the beach or carousing around Coconut Grove, my older brother and I would go looking for election protests... Speaking of election protests, I think those "Sore / Loserman" posters are wonderfully clever... With all the recount frenzy, it looks like everybody wants a do-over. The Backstreet Boys are calling for a recount of CD sales after their first week tallies for Black and Blue just narrowly missed the 2.4 million record set by 'NSync in March... On a similar note, doctors have just decided that Oscar Wilde didn't die of syphilis, but actually of a complex ear infection. If you're in the mood to carp about your cell phone bill, demand a salary review or petition your credit card bill, this seems like the time to do it...Gladiator is being shown on IMAX screens in major cities across the country starting this week. Can there be too much of a good thing? The idea of that much bone-crunching action on a thirteen-story screen makes me queasy just thinking about it... Did you catch the live Madonna concert webcast on Tuesday night from London's Brixton Academy? What a blast! (You can catch reruns on http://www.msn.co.uk/madonna)... Two proactive students are starting the Backstreet Boys Fan Alliance at Harvard. Future events include a protest against 'NSync in Harvard Yard, a 24-hour music video marathon, and a road trip to TRL. E-mail acasill@fas for more info on how to join... What's with all the pop star make-overs? To compensate for the stagnant sounds, singers are choosing to toy with their precious images. Jennifer Lopez has renamed herself "JLo," and she parades around with glittery cornrows and the rapper-esque moniker on tight-fitting t-shirts. Justin Timberlake is trying desperately to grow a goatee, but he still looks like a kid wishing and hoping for puberty. The Backstreet Boys all have new dos including Nick Carter, who looks uncomfortable no matter what he's wearing... With all the poo-poo in theaters this season, I decided to go down the AFI's list of all-time best comedies to cheer me up. I randomly picked Bringing Up Baby, starring Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant and a leopard. Without a doubt, one of the funniest, wittiest movies I've ever seen. It's an incredible date movie. You'll win over anybody you show it to... During Thanksgiving dinner, my grandmother tapped me on the shoulder. "I worry about you," she sighed. "Why? My life is just peachy," I answered. "Oh. I just don't want you joining any gangs," Grandma said. Any idea what she meant?

Questions, Comments, Death Threats? E-mail schainan@fas

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