My daughter is painfully cute. Sure, every dad thinks this, but I happen to have empirical evidence on my side. And since I also live in L.A., my wife and I get questioned regularly about when we’re going to get an agent for her and start her on the road to child stardom.

Answer: not in this life, Jack.

She’d be great at it, no question. She’s social, talkative, has a ridiculous vocabulary for an 18-month-old, and an even more ridiculous memory. I have no doubt that if we put her in front of cameras, she’d be working steadily until I have enough money for her college education or a new Porsche.

Still. It’s not going to happen.

Here’s one reason: the process sucks. Your child, who loves you and wants nothing more than to have your love, is set up for repeated failure and rejection. Call me old-fashioned, but I think she should wait until junior high for those things like everyone else.

Here’s the other reason. I started to list all the former child stars with drug addictions/arrests/bankruptcies/all of the above. Like Robert Blake, Adam Rich, Dana Plato, Corey Haim, Corey Feldman, Lindsay Lohan, Jodie Sweetin, Todd Bridges, Gary Coleman, River Phoenix, Tatum O’Neal, Macaulay Culkin, Maureen McCormick…

Then I decided it would be quicker to name the former child stars who don’t have any of those problems and continue to work steadily:

Jason Bateman.

Those are not good odds.

Sherlock Holmes. Just keeps looking better and better.

(Via Sleestak.)

This is a list of (alleged) interview questions you’ll have to answer if you want a job at search engine/software developer/world domination machine Google. It’s like a nightmare version of the SATs. For example:

In a country in which people only want boys every family continues to have children until they have a boy. If they have a girl, they have another child. If they have a boy, they stop. What is the proportion of boys to girls in the country?

(I’m sure some of my smarter friends will be able to snap off the answer after two seconds of mental arithmetic. It makes my eyes cross.)

This is, so far, the only question I can answer, and I’m sure it’s only there to make people who won’t get hired feel better:

A man pushed his car to a hotel and lost his fortune. What happened?

Answers here.

(Found via The Awl.)

I really wanted to like the new version of “V,” which premiered last night. I really did.

I was a huge fan of the first mini-series and its sequel. I even read the books set in the world imagined by Kenneth Johnson. Yeah, it’s easy to look back on the cheesy effects now and scoff. But the power of the first scenes — giant spaceships floating over the major cities of Earth — is undiminished, even today. It’s why the image is still being used, from Independence Day to the current series.

Unfortunately, after those first scenes, the resemblance ends.

The new series has a better cast — I was watching mainly for Alan Tudyk, Elizabeth Mitchell and Morena Baccarin. And it has better effects. Better than the original series anyway. For a modern TV series, the SFX were fair to poor. In too many places, the producers were clearly forced to work on a budget. L.A. stands in for New York in some thoroughly unconvincing scenes. A fighter jet crashes on the street, leaving no debris or flames. They even skimped on the number of extras — it looks like maybe a couple dozen people gather to watch the skies when the spacecraft arrive. And when we finally get the space lizards, they don’t even have ray-guns. They use knives. Knives. Yeah, I think humanity came up with those about 10,000 B.C.

But the real problems start when those talented actors have to grapple with the truly insipid dialogue and nonsensical plot points they’ve been supplied by the script. Mitchell and Tudyk, who are supposed to be hotshot FBI counterterrorism agents, use satellite imagery to figure out that a truck was parked by a shed. They enter like they’re looking for gardening tools rather than C-4, and they throw switches and stomp down stairs as if they’ve never heard of a booby-trap. Then they conveniently find a dead body left in a pile of clues, and they still have no idea what to do.

Another character, played by Morris Chestnut, deals with his girlfriend’s questions about mysterious cell phone questions by telling her it’s nothing.  He says it twice, so that explains everything. Mitchell’s heart-to-heart with her son is equally painful (and recycles some of the same lines). It would be hard for anyone to make these scenes work — the viewers are supposed to care about family drama when there are giant UFOs driven by space lizards in the sky? — but the dialogue is so flat, it’s like the writers are just marking pages until we get to the good stuff.

Baccarin and Scott Wolf have better stuff to work with, and there’s actual playfulness and tension in their scenes. But their scenes are about as subtle as blunt instruments. Baccarin, as Anna, tells Wolf she doesn’t want any “negative” questions. Given that most people know that most reporters really don’t like asking hard questions — it’s both surprising and sort of dumb when Wolf tries to stand up for his journalistic ethics. It would have been more effective for Anna to tame him with a wink and a nod, rather than bluntly threatening to cancel the interview. What if she’d said, “No tough questions, of course. Or we’ll have you killed.” And then a pretty smile. He would have been so baffled, he wouldn’t have known what to do. In an earlier scene, when the barking dogs of the press confronted Anna — again, how likely does that seem? — she should have turned around and said, “Hey, anyone here who’s mastered faster-than-light travel, raise your hands? Anyone? No? Right, shut up then.”

The thing is, the Visitors are supposed to be a lot smarter than we are. They’ve been planning this attack on humanity for decades, in utmost secrecy, and then they park their ships over the capitals of the world. And they have deserters from this master plan who apparently think they can just wander off and marry the locals without ever worrying about what will happen next.

I’ve said this before, but the best writing advice I’ve ever gotten for this kind of story is: you get one free pass. The audience will believe that there are aliens, or monsters, or vampires, or super-heroes who can fly. But after that, everything has to be consistent and logical within the story that you have established. Once you use that free pass, you’re insulting the audience to ask them to ignore plot holes or wait until the next episode for you to address the obvious questions.

Who knows? A lot of people really seemed to like this version of “V.” And despite all my complaints, I want it to do well. (I’m always in favor of people getting a lot of money and praise for writing about aliens, monsters and world takeovers.) But given the twenty-six years since the original, I was really hoping we’d get something better.

Topless Robot has the “10 Least Wussy Vampire Movies Ever.” A lot of people complaining in comments that John Carpenter’s Vampires didn’t make the list, but I pretty much agree with all of them.

Vampires and Jews and the Holocaust? A little too close to the blood libel for this reviewer, but still an interesting idea.

Rotten Tomatoes has rounded up the Top 25 Best-Reviewed Vampire Films.

Stephen King joins with Scott Snyder and Vertigo to write a comic about American vampires. This looks pretty damned cool to me.

Crocheting plus vampire fetish equals this. (Found via BoingBoing.)

And finally, BBC series “Being Human” — about a vampire, werewolf and a ghost living together as roommates — will be adapted into an American version by SyFy.

Today at work:

The gamer geeks descend on the shops below my office for trick-or-treating. There are some days I just love working across the street from a bunch of video-game companies.

This one isn’t as good, but you have to admire the dedication of the guys in the robot costumes. I think they got separated from the rest of the group.

Ah, and I was just getting comfortable…

This trailer is for Collapse, a documentary about the predictions of Michael Ruppert, one of the only people to predict the current financial meltdown. Ruppert has taken another look into his crystal ball, and it’s not pretty. He predicts Peak Oil will lead to a catastrophic failure of civilization on a global level. So, you know, you have that to look forward to.

But at least there are no zombies in his scenario.

Rep. Grayson: “Cheney is a vampire.”

“I have trouble listening to what [Cheney] says sometimes because of the blood that drips from his teeth while he’s talking,” the Florida Democrat said on MSNBC’s Hardball Friday night. “But my response is this: he’s just angry because the president doesn’t shoot old men in the face. But by the way, when he was done speaking, did he just then turn into a bat and fly away?”

It’s actually sort of amazing, when I tell people I’m writing a book about a vampire who works for the president, the number of them who respond, “So it’s about Dick Cheney?”

Thanks to Rachel for the tip.

After the long dry spell of summer, I’ve had a bunch of media dumped in my lap this fall. Suddenly I’ve got more to read and watch than my eyes can handle.

On the shelf right now:

• Blood’s A Rover, James Ellroy — Ellroy’s final chapter in the Underworld USA trilogy. Encyclopedic, profane, eloquent and remarkable. A landscape dominated by conspiracies. I was surprised how fast I was drawn back into the life of Wayne Tedrow despite the years since the previous book, The Cold Six Thousand.
• The Reapers, John Connolly — Technically part of Connolly’s Charlie Parker series, but Parker is basically only a walk-on in this story about his occasional sidekicks Louis and Angel, a gay couple who are also a hitman and a thief. We learn a lot more about Louis’ history, and we see a little of the shadowy government agency that first recruited and trained him into his life as an assassin. I was ridiculously pleased to realize I had missed this in my first blitz through Connolly’s novels, and would get another glimpse of Parker before Connolly gets back to the series again.
• Rough Country, John Sandford — The return of Sandford’s other Minneapolis cop, Virgil Flowers. In many ways, Flowers is the reverse image of Lucas Davenport, the star of Sandford’s Prey series. He’s essentially lighthearted, laid-back and easy-going. Compared to the darkness that drives Lucas, spending time inside Flowers’ head must be like a vacation for Sandford. Haven’t started this yet — the aforementioned media dump — but I’m really looking forward to it.
• Occult America, Mitch Horowitz — I read about this on Boing Boing, and for once, I heard about an event in L.A. before it happened. I listened to Horowitz speak at the Philosophical Research Society in Los Feliz. He was funny, interesting and extremely knowledgeable about the way the occult — the “hidden truths,” whether from astrology, alchemy or spiritualism — have become a mainstream part of American life. His book is even better, filled with windowpane prose that communicates his deep research in a lively, intelligent manner. He knows stuff even I’ve never heard of, and I’ve been digging in this same graveyard for a long time. He’s also a genuinely nice guy, who took time after the lecture to sign books and chat.

Of course, now that’s it’s fall, I’m also watching a lot of TV. Too much, probably. On the TiVo:

• “How I Met Your Mother” — I’m not exactly sure why I’m still watching this. Ted, the ostensible protagonist, has become kind of a douche, and the writers seem to want to spend as little time with him as possible. Lily and Marshall have apparently undergone some kind of 2-for-1 lobotomy. And Barney, the ultimate single man, is now hooked up with Robin. But occasionally, there are still moments of absurdity that make the show worth it. Like on this Monday’s episode, when Ted and Marshall were power-chugging Tantrum, an overcaffeinated beverage that can apparently cause color-blindness and fainting spells.
• “House” — They’re winnowing down the cast, which is fine by me. More time to watch Hugh Laurie work.
• “Venture Bros.” — See here.
• “The Simpsons” — More like an OCD ritual than an actual choice in my life, but this season has already had some high points.
• “Californication” — In Seasons 1 & 2, Hank had actual moral choices to make, complicated by the fact that he’s kind of a selfish horndog. Now, however, the show is veering into porn-like fantasy about a writer irresistable that three beautiful women almost physically assault him for sex. Not that I’m complaining.
• “30 Rock” — Still hilarious. Don’t care what anyone else thinks.
• “Cougar Town” — I’ll watch almost anything Bill Lawrence does, and the fact that I put this on the Season Pass manager proves it. Despite the title, it’s a very funny show. Courtney Cox has killer timing. She knows how a sitcom works, and she’s perfectly at home. Something I’ve noticed — her character, Jules, is basically J.D. from “Scrubs” in a different gender. But where J.D. was fey and often annoying, Cox makes her manic quest for whatever ball the episode has her chase believable. It’s not anything deep, there’s very little redeeming social value. But it’s funny. And of course, the supporting cast is excellent, which is pretty much what you expect from Lawrence’s shows.
• “Community” — Funny and slightly strange show about a lawyer who doesn’t actually have a college degree, so he’s forced to go back to a community college. What’s interesting about this is how it’s gone straight past the first, awkward stage of a sitcom where the show sticks to the premise like grim death, moving into the more interesting adolescence where they just follow the characters and let them do stuff. Oh, and hey — Chevy Chase is funny again. Really.

On the iPod: In between marathon repeats of “Happy and You Know It” and “Hey Julie” — my daughter’s two favorite songs — I’ve managed to listen to some of the artists my friends have suggested recently.

• Felice Brothers, “Frankie’s Gun,” “Wonderful Life” (An S. Duda recommendation)
• Elvis Perkins in Dearland, especially “Hey” and “Doomsday”
• Camera Obscura, “French Navy,” “Sweetest Thing”
• Wilco, Wilco (The Album) (I’m really late to this bandwagon, but now I get it, OK?)
• Coldplay, “Viva La Vida” (the best U2 song not performed by U2 in years)
• Andrew Bird
• White Rabbits
• Phoenix
• Bon Iver

Look at all that. I need to get outdoors more often. Or something.