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Richard Dreyfuss.

Hell, he was halfway to Cheney back in "The American President." He can knock the role out of the park. And he's part of a group advocating the impeachment of Bush and Cheney.

Have your people call his people.

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The billions spent thus far by the United States in Bush's war, if spent instead upon domestic concerns, would have been enough to fix Social Security for seventy-five years or provide health insurance for every child in the United States.

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And I realized a lot of this negativism was sounding familiar to me. Too long. Too loud. Too overwhelming visually with lots of mindless sound and fury signifying nothing. And I realized where and when I had heard it all before:

"Blade Runner."

Yet over time it was seen as visionary, and its stylings let an indelible impression on fans and future filmmakers. Any number of dramatic endeavors have the visual stamp of "Blade Runner" upon them.

I think that's what's happened here. I think "Speed Racer," consistent for its title character, is ahead of the pack, and no one has realized it yet. I suspect you're going to see tricks from "Speed Racer" showing up in other films in the next years, and it's going to be one of those movies in which, years from now, film students are going to be seeing the basis for many subsequent films. While now people dismiss Emile Hirsch as being bland, others are going to realize he wisely underplays the titular character to serve as a quiet center against the overplaying of his costars and the go-go visuals that surround him. The constant motion of the wipes and the way that even heavily expository scenes are made visually stimulating are going to be aped in subsequent movies.

"Speed Racer" may crash, but like a first rate car, it's going to be cannibalized for its parts.

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That said, the Pace University Freshman Cabaret managed to find a new angle on the debacle as student Danicah Waldo (remember that name; you heard it here first) performs Miss SC's answer, set to music by Jason Wetzel, in "Miss South Carolina: The Musical" and wonderfully captures the poor girl's deer-in-the-headlights thought process:

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The President serving the second term of his presidency was busy organizing a wedding for his daughter.

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Well, not lousy; it is a perfectly serviceable shirt with a perfectly serviceable picture of Avril Lavigne on it. But it is not by any stretch a concert, and that is because there was none. The concert was canceled due to laryngitis. So although she wound up spending a perfectly decent weekend with her mother, she still shlepped two thousand miles for a non-event. And since she thought she was going to see Lavigne in Arizona, we made no effort to see her locally.

So Avril Lavigne, if you happen to be reading this, try and swing by Long Island next time, okay?

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What I didn't realize was that this wasn't simply an employee screening, as we have in New York. This was the formal premiere. We're talking red carpet, banks of reporters, and a reception for cast and crew.

My experience at the premiere was nothing short of surreal.

So there was the red carpet stretching along the sidewalk to the entrance of Grauman's Chinese theater. On the right hand side were all the various reporters and photographers. The carpet itself was bisected lengthwise, effectively creating two "lanes." When I stepped onto it, there were quite a few people on the left and no one on the right. Naturally I went to the right. Almost immediately a security guard (there had be to about a hundred of them, all similarly attired in black jackets) said, "Sir, you have to walk on the other side."

Immediately I twigged to the set-up: The right hand side, nearer the media, was for the movie stars, the director, the people you see interviewed on "Entertainment Tonight." The left hand side was for mere mortals.

I shrugged, said, "Uhkay," stepped to the left and continued walking.

I made it about ten feet and suddenly people started shouting, "Peter, over here!"

I turned and looked toward the photographers. Flashes immediately started going off. "Peter, this way! Look over here, please!"

I was stunned. Somewhere on the internet there are probably pictures of me looking as if I'd just been slammed in the face with a 2 x 4. The photographers waved me over. "Uhkay," I said and accommodated them, feeling awkward and uncomfortable and bewildered.

When they had enough shots (I would have thought one would have done it) I kept walking and encountered another guard who waved me over to the left. "Uhkay." Back to the left I went. I walked another ten feet and suddenly a camera crew from IGN was shouting, "Peter! Can we talk to you for a few minutes!" "Uhkay." Back I went and did an interview for IGN about the film. When I was done I looked to the security guard questioningly. He just waved me toward the theater and I kept going on the celebrity side.

When did I become a celebrity? How the hell did THAT happen?

In the theater I was seated next to Mark Silvestri and his wife, and the crew from BET. I cannot recommend highly enough sitting next to the BET guys during an action film, particularly if you want high octane enthusiasm from audience members.

At the party I met Jeff Bridges briefly, didn't get anywhere near Gwyneth Paltrow, and never did see Robert Downey. But I chatted with lots of folks, had a great time, and didn't leave until after midnight.

So this is what the Hollywood high life is like. It could be attractive if I weren't always concerned that the earth was going to split open and swallow us.

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Tonight I'm going to the premiere of "Iron Man." So if you see some guy who looks like me walking in the background past Robert Downey Jr. on E! or something, there's a possibility that it is, in fact, me. Or it could be Dick Cheney...

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Please do understand that if I say I can't answer a question or make a comment on something, it has not much to do with your question and probably more with agreements that we have signed with various companies and groups.

Don't ask me where Peter is or what he is doing right now. Just think good thoughts for our leader.

Here's the thing: Never identify a problem without posing a solution. Obama made the mistake of doing just that, and Clinton--hewing to her claim of being a problem solver--immediately presented one. She suggested a free-form, no-moderator debate, similar to the Lincoln-Douglas debates.

Obama turned down the notion in short order. No surprise there: A front-runner, generally speaking, has nothing to gain from a debate and everything to lose. Unfortunately, it brings a truth into focus: There's going to be any number of times when a world leader is in a challenging face-to-face and there's no play book to follow. Obama puts forward the notion that he can win over ferocious opponents of the United States or bridge the gap between parties with his oratory and personal charm, but he balks at facing Clinton in a free-for-all?

Interestingly, the "West Wing" comparisons continue. In the seventh season debate episode, Santos faced Vinick in a debate and that time it was Vinick who suggested that debate rules be tossed aside. In that situation, Santos took him up on it. He welcomed it. As Obama should have.

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Kath and I wound up getting friendly with Seth and the Robot Chicken guys while hanging out in the convention green room (how appropriate). Consequently we were invited to hang out with them that evening at a nearby pub that had ping pong tables and pool tables in the lower floor.

We took them up on it, and for a while the group of us hung out, drank, played ping pong and were undisturbed. Then I heard a couple of guys at the pool table saying, "Is that Scott Evil?" I wasn't the only one; Matt Senreich, Seth's "Robot Chicken" co-creator, muttered, "We've been made."

Over the next few minutes, word spread, and girls started leaving their dates to come over to Seth to talk to him or have their pictures taken with him. A guy sidled over to me while several girls were posing with Seth and he said, with obvious contempt for the girls' brainpower, "They think he's Seth Green."

"Yeah, he gets that all the time," I said.

The guy nodded, glad to have a voice of reason to talk to. "They don't realize he's just a lookalike."

"Personally, I don't see that much of a resemblance," I said.

"Me neither."

Tends to make one value one's anonymity.

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So this is your big chance. If you remember any particularly egregious typos, you've got until Thursday noon EST to let me know.

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