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Produced by National Geographic, the series "Strange Days on Planet Earth" (9 p.m., PBS) returns for a second season. Edward Norton hosts and narrates.

Dear Annie: "Britany" is in a special ed program at my school. She is really nice and I try to include her in conversations with my friends. At the end of the year, there is a separate prom for the students in special ed. Britany asked if I wanted to go...

DEAR DR. DONOHUE: I had two abscesses in my liver. After nine days in the hospital, where I was on high doses of antibiotics, I was released to go home with drainage tubes still in my liver and with a supply of those strong antibiotics. No one knows what...

Imagine Bugs Bunny with a red carrot in his hand. Doesn't seem right, does it? Carrots haven't always been orange.

When the J. Paul Getty Trust in Los Angeles was seeking to finance the purchase of artworks, it did what cultural institutions often do to raise money: It issued bonds.

This easy, espresso-spiked shortbread comes together quickly and goes well with coffee. Be sure to cut the shortbread while still warm, and be careful not to overbake.

Former White House press secretary Tony Snow has joined CNN as a conservative commentator.

Going green is all the rage these days. Here's a way to cultivate your green thumb: Volunteer with Sharing the Harvest at the Dartmouth YMCA.

Pistol Shot Gypsy haven't even played one show and they already boast a significant following. That's because the Fall River fivesome has just changed their name from Soma City, a moniker that is synonymous with hammer-down rock-and-roll that has been...

Bringing home a newborn is one of the most chaotic times in a parent's life. Here are some must-haves to stock before the baby arrives, according to Heather Maclean, author of "The Baby Gizmo Buying Guide."

III SUNS: (508) 995-3868. www.iiisuns.com. 2171 Acushnet Ave, New Bedford.

DEAR DR. DONOHUE: I need help. I am a diabetic on pills only. I have what's called a Charcot joint. Can I get a drug to help me? Sometimes I can barely walk.

Dear Annie: My husband and I are in our 40s. We have been married for 15 years and had a marriage most people would envy. We have no children.

According to James Q. Wilson, a distinguished social scientist, the weakening of marriage is the most important social problem facing America today.

The proliferation in pop culture of stories that have twist endings is a self-defeating phenomenon. It only serves to put you on guard waiting for the unexpected turnaround, and your diligence often destroys the carefully crafted surprise.

Sometimes films are so built around the twist that there's nothing there without it, like The Village. M. Night Shyamalan made some great twist films, like The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable; but audiences were then expecting him to deliver on fooling them, the result being he went on to make some bad movies with good twists. Then he just made some bad movies.

Jacob's Ladder was one film that did it right, the weird metaphysical turnarounds at the end proving haunting and deeply effective. Atonement dropped the ball, the book worked much better. In the case of The Life Before Her Eyes we have the opposite situation, an OK movie with a groaner of a twist that, although inevitable, slights everything that came before it.

What keeps the film watchable are the basics: good writing and acting. Director Vadim Perelman, responsible for the hide-the-razorblades downer House of Sand and Fog, keeps things popping along in a lively manner, and his visual stylizations are evocative without drowning the action. Evan Rachel Wood plays Diana, a high school girl who finds herself in the bathroom with her friend Maureen (Eva Amurri) as a kid goes Columbine all over the school with a machine gun. They hear screams and gunshots and stand there idiotically discussing the situation instead of climbing out a window or something. Eventually the dude busts into the ladies room, points the gun at both of them and forces them to choose which one dies. This portentous scene repeats throughout the film, gradually developing further each time.

The rest of the story happens 15 years later when Diana has grown up and turned into Uma Thurman, an art teacher with a bratty precocious daughter and an older professor for a husband. It's clear sailing once you've accepted the Evan/Uma thing, although the film doesn't make it easy by showing rows of computers at the school in Wood's time period—placing it in present day—and then having Thurman's surroundings in 2023 look exactly the same. The ending explains it away, but at that point it's too late because it's already irked you for 90 minutes.

The more engaging part of the story is the earlier era, with Wood turning in one of her better, more nuanced performances of late, after having to fuck Ed Norton endlessly in Down in the Valley and do her part in fucking up Augusten Burroughs' great book Running With Scissors. The plot is generally pretty aimless, mostly involving her whore/virgin relationship with Maureen. Amurri, who is Susan Sarandon's kid, and possesses her large, languid eyes, does a good job as the shy one of the pair who nevertheless has the strongest backbone. There is good chemistry between the two actresses, and the metaphysical dialogue for the most part works. Uma as the future Diana doesn't really have a lot to do besides mope around dropping clues to the mystery and gradually losing her shit completely.

In a twist film like this all the plot and character development goes to the setup. If you watch it again, everything will seem so obvious you won't believe that you were fooled in the first place, assuming you even were. But even though there are a lot of good elements of filmmaking at work here, by the time The Life Before Her Eyes passes by you, chances are good you probably won't ever want to sit through it again.

THE LIFE BEFORE HER EYES

RATED | R

OPENS | 4.25 At the Kendall Sq. Cinema

PQ: The more engaging part of the story is the earlier era, with Wood turning in one of her better, more nuanced performances of late, after having to fuck Ed Norton endlessly in Down in the Valley and do her part in fucking up Augusten Burroughs great book Running With Scissors.

I am a young, straight male—but I have this obsession with male-on-male dino-dragon porn. I don't get it. I'M SUPPOSED TO BE STRAIGHT! Am I psychotic or what?

-Dino Really Are Gonna Overtake Now

You're not psychotic, DRAGON, just pathetic.

I don't mean pathetic in the "laughable or contemptible" sense of the word, DRAGON, I mean it in the pitiable sense. You're one those poor unfortunate souls saddled with an unrealizable sexual fantasy. Beat off to dino-dragon porn as much as you care to—and you clearly care to—but, like a man with a giantess fetish or some dude into boytaurs, you will never meet the object of your peculiar affections in the flesh, scales and tails.

Well, not for at least 50 years or so.

In his newish book Love and Sex with Robots, author David Levy predicts that in five decades or so, people are going to be fucking and falling in love with humanoid sex robots. Levy believes that some people are going to have a problem with the humanoid fuckbots in our future. I disagree. People aren't going to have a problem with dudes fucking and/or marrying humanoid robots. It's dudes like DRAGON, here—men and women fucking and/or married to dino-dragon robots, robot centaurs, 50-foot-tall female robots, and, it pains me to say, kid robots—who are going to freak people the fuck out.

Let me just say this: There's going to be a lot more to fuckbots than Levy imagines in his philosophy. While Levy foresees fuckbots that can be programmed with voices, eye colors, or "particular personality traits" that their owners/mates find sexy, I foresee a future in which every last unrealizable fetish or fantasy is suddenly within the grasp of all—well, not all. The first few generations of fuckbots will most likely be available only to the superwealthy and/or those willing to spend a small fortune on a visit to a robot brothel. But the coming of fuckbots is going to make fantasies that are currently unrealizable for reasons of biology, logistics, or morality suddenly very, very realizable. Including yours, DRAGON, if you should be lucky enough to live so long.

As for your supposed-to-be-straightness ...

I've got a file full of letters from supposed-to-be-straight guys—guys with wives and girlfriends and a passion for pussy—angsting at me about their urge to suck a little cock now and then. Many of these guys prefer to suck cock that isn't attached to anything recognizably male—e.g., shemales, transvestites, American Idol contestants, et al.—because it somehow makes their gay desires less troubling, less destabilizing, less, you know, gay.

Your passion for male-on-male dino-dragon porn, DRAGON, may be motivated by the same subconscious impulse. You don't want to let go of your supposed straightness but you're actually turned on by "the cock," as the kids like to say. And by seeking out porn that features nonhuman males, you don't have to confront your hunger, however mild, for cock.

I'm a straight woman and I've been with my boyfriend for four years. The sex is great, but we recently began to experiment with anal. He enjoys it, he takes his time and warms/lubes me up, but it is still painful. I don't let on because I know how much he gets off. Any tips for a beginner?

-Silently Whimpering

Smoke pot, SW. Don't break any laws, of course, but if you're using lots of lube, if he's going very, very, very slowly at the start, and if you've read Tristan Taormino's The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women (twice), you might want to smoke a little bit of pot—just a little bit—before you give it another go.

And pot or no pot, SW, you MUST tell your boyfriend that, whatever he's doing back there, it's not working for you. THAT'S AN ORDER. Read or reread Taormino's book, and then try some other positions, more or different lube, longer warm-up sessions, anal-play sessions without any expectations of penetration, and, of course, a consciousness-raising session that involves you doing the boyfriend's ass with a dildo that's roughly the same size as his dick.

I've been reading your column for a few months, Dan, and I'm wondering a few things. What are your academic credentials (if any) that qualify you as some kind of sexpert? I suspect you have none. Are you a guy or a girl? Judging by the bias of your answers, my guess is that you're a woman. Are you straight, gay, or bi? Single, married, or divorced? I'm sure your readers would love to know the answers to all of these questions. However, I suspect you haven't got the balls to print this letter.

-Chaz The Spaz

P.S.: The Playboy Advisor replies to ALL questions submitted (even those he doesn't print). Do you?

Look up "advice" in the dictionary, CTS, and it says, "opinion about what could or should be done." The only qualification you need to offer someone your opinion, of course, is having been asked for it. As my mail comes addressed to me, I am uniquely qualified to offer advice in this space.

Look my ass up on Google, CTS, and it says that I'm a fag. I've been with the same guy for 13-plus years, we're husbands in Canada, boyfriends in the United States and our young son's loving parents wherever the fuck we go. I have never claimed to be a "sexpert," whatever that is, and while I do not doubt that the Playboy Advisor is a better man than I in every respect, the volume of mail I get prevents me from answering everyone personally.

I am a 23-year-old female whose boyfriend has a piss fetish. By this I mean that he enjoys it when I urinate into his mouth. While this is not something I find erotic, I have no issue with indulging him. My only problem with it is that I don't like to kiss him afterward because of the taste. I can't stand it. Is there a tactful way to ask him to brush his teeth afterward without COMPLETELY ruining the mood? Thank you very much for your help.

-Embarrassed Non-Urine Fan

Seeing as there's no tactful way to ask someone to piss in your mouth, ENUF, you're under no obligation to be tactful about asking your boyfriend to brush his damn teeth. Saying, "Go brush your damn teeth, piss-boy, and you better be back here before I decide to eat asparagus at every meal for the rest of my fucking life," in a low and sexy voice should not only do the trick, it will ensure that his dick is still hard when he gets back.

Hey, everybody: Thank you so much for all the thoughtful condolence emails after the death of my mother. Your good wishes, to say nothing of the many pictures of your boyfriends' butts, lifted my spirits. My tickets to the Friday night performance of The Drowsy Chaperone in Chicago—they were supposed to be mother's birthday present—wound up going to a lovely and very deserving mom. And I got to see the show, too—thanks to Ted at Broadway in Chicago—at Sunday's matinee.

DOWNLOAD DAN SAVAGE'S WEEKLY PODCAST, SAVAGE LOVECAST, EVERY TUESDAY AT THESTRANGER.COM/SAVAGE.

Paul Stanley says he's never played Guitar Hero, so he doesn't know if it's harder to perform "Strutter" on a plastic guitar. And, really, why would he? He's busy doing things. Like deafening thousands of people at once while performing with Kiss. Or, listening to my inane questions. Or, working at his new passion—wait for it—painting.

"You can't get anywhere until you're ready to find it," he says on the phone, explaining how he took up painting several years ago during a difficult divorce. "I did it purely as a cathartic release, and I did it from the get-go with the ground rules that I was going to concentrate more on trying to depict emotions than trying to depict any image of reality."

The only Kiss content is four portraits of the band's members in costume. "A tip-of-the-hat to the fans," Stanley calls it, but one that's so out of place precisely because of how abstract the other works are. "I have to tell, you it's pretty gratifying to know that they're the least popular pieces in the gallery," he says. "People aren't buying Kiss, they're buying art."

That art ranges from serene to immediate, while touching on themes Kiss never would. You wouldn't know Stanley spends some nights in 9-inch heels, cranking out the riff to "Deuce." It's important to him that his art—both its content and its success—not be seen as some by-product of Kiss. "At the end of the day, if you know you're buying pieces of art because I sing 'Love Gun,' you're probably better off spending the money elsewhere."

But, if it exists, the link to Kiss may not be causal. The paintings, some of which seem to reflect influences like Rothko and Miró, inspire a range of emotional responses, and Stanley sees legitimacy in nearly every reaction. It's a creative open-mindedness that perhaps developed alongside his relationship to Kiss' fans. "I'm sometimes stunned by what some people read into some of my music, but that doesn't negate the truth in what they're saying," he says. "In the same way as with a piece of art or anything else that's subjective, it's ultimately more important what you get out of it than what I set out to do."

While it's strange to hear Paul Stanley talk about the affirmation of "real" art collectors, especially since Kiss made a career out of being reviled by critics and worshipped by fans, they're not the only ones he cares about. "If my appearance brings in people who have never been into a gallery, I've done a double service," he says. "I think that many people don't get a chance to experience or enjoy any of the arts, because the critic's job, unfortunately, seems to be to intimidate a potential viewer by telling them that their opinion isn't valid unless it's educated. That really sells a lot of people short." And, it might be that kind of classic rock populism that finally gives him away.

PAUL STANLEY

APPEARING

FRI. 4.25 + SAT. 4/26

6PM-9PM

RUNS THRU WED. 4.30

WENTWORTH GALLERY

THE MALL AT CHESTNUT HILL

199 BOYLSTON ST.

CHESTNUT HILL

617.630.9126

FREE

PAULSTANLEY.COM

Worcester may be a second-tier city, but when it comes to metal, Wormtown is king—and has been for years.

Since Boston's metal scene pretty much died with the Rat and the Channel, most extreme acts skip town to Worcester, where the Palladium awaits with open arms and towering Marshall stacks. And that's why every year, one of the genre's biggest annual events, the Worcester Metal and Hardcore Festival, takes over the cavernous theater for three beer-soaked days of mayhem and aggression.

"To me it's like a proving ground," says Doc Coyle, guitarist of New Jersey's God Forbid, who will be playing their third metalfest. "You have a lot of naysayers. But we go out there with a glimmer in our eye to really put on a good show." This year's cavalcade of carnage includes a sampling of every possible style, including: Satanic black metal (Behemoth, Dimmu Borgir), old school thrash (Overkill, Megadeth), retro thrash (Municipal Waste, Skeletonwitch), metalcore (God Forbid, Shadows Fall), stoner metal (High on Fire) and death metal (Vital Remains, Kataklysm).

In all, there are more than 60 bands from across the globe over three days. Headliners include Megadeth and Scandinavian melodic titans In Flames on Friday, Behemoth and Dimmu Borgir Saturday and industrial pioneers Ministry, on their last tour ever, Sunday. The festival is equal parts "Heavy Metal Parking Lot" and local all-ages show as long-haired dudes, skanky goth chicks and baseball hat-wearing hardcore kids collide in the name of headbanging. There are several macabrely named bands like Waking the Cadaver and Embrace the End, while others suggest ancient, faraway lands like Keep of Kalessin and Ensiferum. By far, the best name on the bill goes to Cockpunch.

Southern California's Winds of Plague is one band that'll stand out. They feature two metal rarities: keyboards and a female who plays them. Waking up in his van following a recent Florida show cut short at a Christian club because of his use of "vulgar language," WOP vocalist Johnny Plague said that the keyboards "set them apart from the pack."

"There's so many death-core bands that all sound the same, and we needed some sort of edge," Plague told the Dig. "We use them for a more of a classic black metal sound. It gives us the edge we need."

Another act sure to stand out is Richmond, Va.'s Municipal Waste, a keg cup-chugging throwback band reminiscent of the '80s thrash of S.O.D., Kreator and Nuclear Assault. The name of their latest disc, "The Art of Partying," pretty much sums it up. "People [in metal] were just taking themselves too seriously. It's all bullshit," said MW vocalist Tony "Guardrail" Foresta. "We want to play metal to have fun. You don't have to get your ass kicked all the time and be tough. We're about everyone having a good time." Nergal, vocalist for corpse-painted Polish monsters Behemoth, doesn't smile quite as much onstage but shares Foresta's commitment to individuality and love of musical chaos.

"When we're onstage, we're not pretending to be someone or something. We are who we are," he said recently by phone from Minneapolis. "People can see through you if you're not into this. The stage is our battlefield. We go sick and hope you appreciate it."

NEW ENGLAND METAL AND HARDCORE FESTIVAL

FRI.-SUN., 4.25-4.26

PALLADIUM

261 MAIN ST.

WORCESTER

508.797.9696

FRI. 4:30PM-11PM

SAT./SUN. 11:30AM-1AM

ALL AGES/$45/DAY

Few bands from the early '90s are still as fresh and under-exploited as the silver toned-Bridget Cross-era of Unrest. Fifteen years later, suddenly this Unrest album disguised as a Bridget Cross solo project has appeared as a gift from above! Keyboard- accented songs are open and flowy here—generally less punctuated than their earlier work, but oh so nice.

Major Frustration, Dicky Frustration, Mikey Frustration, Timmy Frustration and Tommy Frustration (kinda like the Donnas, only, not) have all been around longer than Green Day, and they could teach them a thing or two. Straight outta Plymouth, the Frustrations are seasoned pop/punk vets and this time around, they are delivering a healthy dose of Buzzcocks-inspired guitars and harmonies. newfrustrations.com

"If you're making noise for money," writes Howie Stelzer, owner of the Intransitive record label, "then you've started with the wrong idea." Stelzer should know. For almost 10 years he's been quietly running his little label out of metro Boston , gradually building acclaim and catalog to spare. "In the past decade, Boston artists have toured a lot," he writes. "Their albums have made it around the world, been published internationally and our city has become a good stop for touring artists. Word has gotten out about what happens here."

Generally, noise promoters are confined to the art spaces and alternative venues in the city, but increasingly the trad-rock venues are signing over nights to folks like Stelzer. Most recently Stelzer is working with the Middle East club to hold a series of avant-garde performances, the second of which happens next week. "There was a night not too long ago," he writes, "with four different experimental-type concerts happening, and every one was packed. I think that speaks highly about us as a city." Tuesday, Stelzer's "Mass Underground" series sees a lineup of talent, new and old. "Sharpwaist is part of the new generation," he writes about the Allston-based duo. "The music is filthy and sweaty and aggressive." Guitarist Kate Village "is more Keiji Haino than Eddie Van Halen" while X04 is a favorite of Thurston Moore. As for headliners NMPERIGN & Jason Lescalleet, "The Boston audience expects a certain level of quality, so folks doing experimental-type music here have no choice but to deliver."

MASS UNDERGROUND VOL. 2

W/ NMPERIGN & JASON LESCALLEET,

X04, SHARPWAIST AND KATE VILLAGE

TUES. 4.29

MIDDLE EAST UPSTAIRS

472 MASS. AVE.

617.864.3278

8:30PM/18+/$8

MIDEASTCLUB.COM

The IFF's significance is snowballing. It offers the opportunity to check out premium indie fare (in 2006, the IFF previewed Half Nelson, the effortless narrative of drugs, race, class and education), and with recently imposed state tax breaks for filmmakers, Boston is even more relevant to the independent scene. Reviewing a festival screening more than 90 films from all over the world is problematic. You can only watch so many screeners in a week, and there lurks this guilty, sinking notion that you're missing out by not stealing screeners from IFF HQ and pulling several all-nighters to watch every single one, instead of reviewing a mere fraction.

Harmony Korine (Gummo, Julian Donkey Boy) presents his newest offering, Mister Lonely, in which a Michael Jackson impersonator is lured by a Marilyn Monroe impersonator to a commune for their ilk. Watching pop culture icons like James Dean, Madonna, Sammy Davis Jr., and the Three Stooges romp through the pastoral landscape is utterly surreal (as are some of the romantic pairings—the Queen and the Pope? Monroe and a German Charlie Chaplin?). The main narrative is interwoven with a subplot about a fleet of flying nuns led by a goofy priest (played by New German Cinema director Werner Herzog). The actors are more photographic subjects and caricatures than real characters, which is half explained in the slow plot's gestures toward questions of identity. But you can imagine the eye-candy: colorful habits fluttering in flight, Little Red Riding Hood walking along railroad tracks in yellow galoshes, Michael Jackson dancing on the streets of Paris and on a rocky hilltop overlooking the ocean, a flock of sheep tended by Abraham Lincoln.

Savage Grace traces a deeply dysfunctional bourgeois family-of-three's decline across countries and decades. It's fun to watch Julianne Moore, long type-cast as a repressed 1940s/50s housewife (The End of the Affair, Far From Heaven, The Hours), try on a destructive roll. This film pops with the color and costume of a 1950s melodrama, but unlike directors of the day Douglas Sirk and Nicholas Ray (who used understated framings and gestures to reveal motivations), everything is overt (unless there's a film out there in which Jane Wyman asks "Does he fuck you up the ass?"). But even this was too subtle for the explosion of disturbing drama in the last 15 minutes of the film.

The documentary Crawford traces national politics through the spectrum of the small Texas town where George W. Bush bought his ranch and his cowboy image. The film shows a spectrum of discourse among the townspeople: opportunism, patriotism, rebellion against pervasive Republican values, cynicism toward reporters and chaos from antiwar protestor Cindy Sheenan's arrival. While much of the war rhetoric is stale, it's (unfortunately) still relevant. But the fascinating part of the film is the changing face of Crawford—a ranch town outside of Waco with boarded-up storefronts—which is both the unwitting victim of a media storm and the perpetrator of intolerance against its more left-leaning residents.

At the Death House Door is also a political look at the personal, in this case, Rev. Carroll Pickett of Huntsville Prison. The chaplain tries to bring dignity to the lethal injection of 95 inmates, one of whom was innocent. Perhaps questions of innocence or guilt should not be at the forefront of the death penalty debate, but director Steve James (Hoop Dreams) still delivers a haunting look at the ugly implementation of state-sanctioned execution.

The documentaries range from Death House Door to glances into Harry Potter followings and online role-playing games. There is also a short film program, which offers a lyrical selection (while I haven't seen Glory at Sea, knowing its director, it will boast a bizarre plot and startling visual dreamscapes). The diversity of the films is amazing; every trailer on the IFF website looks intriguing. It's probably best to see as many as you can.

IFF BOSTON 2008

WEDNESDAY 4.23–TUESDAY 4.29

FOR TICKETS AND SHOWTIMES VISIT

IFFBOSTON.ORG

As a seminal Boston band in the late '80s, Big Dipper became one of the area's first nationally acclaimed indie-rock exports. After releasing their first three records on the now legendary and defunct Homestead Records, the band transcended city limits and found their way onto airwaves and stages nationwide. It was this growing attention that caught the Sauron-like gaze of Epic Records, who signed the band and released what would turn out to be their final record.

Like so many bands to follow, signing to a major label would be the beginning of the end for the band. "We weren't ready for a big label at that time,'" says Big Dipper co-founder Gary Waleik. "We had to try very hard to conform to the label's wishes and get the record out quickly. Looking back, some of the songs shouldn't have been on there. Some of the songs were the best we've written, but they were too slick, too glossy. Besides that, the cover was an absolute abomination. If we had chosen a label that made more sense and stuck with our approach to songwriting and recording, I think we would have been more relevant to people for a longer time."

Now, nearly two decades later, Big Dipper is just that—relevant. With a handful of shows on the horizon and the recent reissuing of their Homestead catalogue by Merge records, Big Dipper is going indie again. "Mac [McCaughan of Merge] had posted a blog on the Portastatic website that he really likes the record Heavens and that he couldn't find it anymore. He thought Big Dipper was a band seriously in need of a re-release program. We owned all the rights, had the master tapes and the original artwork, so it was relatively easy to do."

On Saturday, the original lineup will perform live for the first time in 18 years—their first ever show at the Middle East. "We all feel very lucky to put a happy ending on the whole story," says Waleik. "That's a chance that most bands don't get. Just to have the chance to put out our best stuff on a great label and play a handful of shows is a privilege."

[Big Dipper w/ Great Plains and Paper Thin Stages. Sat. 4.26. Middle East Downstairs. 480 Mass. Ave., Cambridge. 617.864.3278. 9pm/18+/$16 adv., $18 doss. mideastclub.com]

What did you see today at the IMAX?

Jessie: It was awesome whatever the hell it was. I forgot the name of it but it was amazing. I've never been to IMAX before.

Amy: It was called Deep Sea in 3-D.

J: It was amazing, I was reaching up and trying to touch things that weren't actually there. And then I'd look and see if people were looking at me weird.

What was your favorite part?

J: The previews at the start! Sea Monsters?!? I can't wait to see that.

A: I love how the kids were freaking out in the start.

It was scary! I was scared!

J: Yeah.