So, it's March. That means St. Patrick's Day. That means lots of people wearing green, lots of pinching and kissing, and a parade or two. Hmmm … sounds like that date I had at the Wizard of Oz theme party.

20th Century Fox had the idea of doing a big bio-pic about the original St. Patrick. Last I heard, Daniel "I drink your milkshake!" Day-Lewis was down for the lead.

One of the dramatic scenes to look forward to will be when he decides to stop using real rocks to promote the Holy Trinity and begins to use shamrocks. And, of course, the scene where he decides the best way to get rid of all the snakes in Ireland is to stomp on them, and what ensues is the origin of the "Lord of the Dance" style of dancing. Yes, Michael Flatley could have killed thousands of snakes with his dancing skills.

Greekery and Geekery

Maybe it's the statue of Prometheus, who in Greek mythology gave fire to mankind. Maybe it's the conspicuously Greek architecture of many a building in our nation's capital – the Lincoln Memorial, the Supreme Court, etc. Or maybe it was the full-sized replica of the Athenian Parthenon in Nashville, Tennessee (I ain't even kiddin', neither). Whatever it was, something somewhere inspired some folks in Hollywood to make some Greektastic movies.

Last month, we had Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief, which rivals even the mighty Harry Potter franchise when it comes to length of a movie/book title. It was an adventurous tale, predictably divergent from the text upon which it was based, but entertaining nonetheless when taken on its own merits strictly as a film.

On Good Friday, we'll be seeing the release of Clash of the Titans, which, for those of you who may not be familiar, is a remake of the classic film of the 1980s. The original had everything a young boy like myself could want from a film: heroes, monsters, magic, and nudity. Not so much nudity as to get an R rating, but enough nipple so that I could tell my friends "I saw boob!"

As of this writing, I haven't gotten my mandatory prescreening as a critic for the new film – and honestly, I don't expect to. I kind of hacked off one of the major players over at Warner Brothers with my generosity, of all things.

Maybe he just didn't want to have a grandson; I know plenty of people that would have been excited by the prospect. My bad, Mr. Randolph. My bad.

As I was saying, I don't know how many bare breasts there are in the new flick (which got pushed back a week so they could make it 3-D), or more specifically, how many human bare breasts there are. I'm sure there will likely be a Gorgon or a Harpy going around topless, but if that's how you get your jollies … well, let me introduce you to some of the women I used to work with in Texas.

Speaking of the Greeks, remember when they started the Olympic Games? I remember reading an account of that first ice dancing program in 700 B.C.

I think Socrates was there as a judge, and he gave the Russians a score of 9, but not before having a good 35-minute talk about the nature of numbers and what it really means to "have a nine." Or maybe that was a dirty joke. I don't recall exactly. But I'm sure it was momentous.

The Winter Olympics are over, by and by, and there were many stories told, many songs sung, many triumphs, and a few tragedies. We got a chance to see it all: the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

As thrilling as all of those tales are to witness, very little in this world captures our imaginations like movies about Winter Olympians that tackled great feats and came home triumphant, or as utter failures still holding their heads high. Witness: Miracle, about the legendary 1980 U.S. hockey team. Witness: Cool Runnings, about the far less legendary but still significant Jamaican bobsled team. They turned the world upside down with their unconvential tale of … well … turning upside down on the bobsled track.

Soon to join that stable of stories of athletes giving their all on the ice and beating the odds to show the world that of which they are made: a little film about curling. Like a giant shuffleboard game on ice, played with 42-pound stones and epileptic broom use, curling has caught hold of the American consciousness. It will keep its hold on it this Christmas: Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly are polishing each others' stones and sweeping the floor with the competition in Rock Stars (rated R).

See you in the funny papers, lads and lasses. And pinch someone for me on the 17th.

"I saw boob!"