A group of UCLA students are protesting the selection of ’08 alum James Franco, star of Milk and Pineapple Express, as their commencement speaker. Senior Erin Moore, who is attempting to drum up support on Facebook, told EW’s Hollywood Insider blog that she believes the university should have chosen a keynote speaker who’s accomplished more than juggling classes and a movie career, which she finds commendable but not particularly inspirational. Her argument isn’t completely without merit. She sees Franco as a peer, which is how he wanted to be viewed during his stint at UCLA. (He earned a degree in English, with a concentration in creative writing.) You could argue that the ones Franco should be addressing are high school students, who might benefit from hearing a story about someone who valued education enough to return to school — but didn’t have to give up his passion, acting. Then again, isn’t multi-tasking something new professionals could use advice on? Hasn’t 30-year-old Franco navigated his way through a difficult industry, shown range that was perhaps unexpected of him, and lived more life experiences than most 21-year-olds?
Of course, the selection committee (which did include students) no doubt picked Franco because they thought he’d be entertaining. That isn’t a new concept. Personally, I’d be psyched to have someone who, if he’s smart, might bring along a new Judd Apatow video (perhaps addressing this protest?). I can’t remember who spoke at my graduation 12 years ago. I just remember that he was an older gentleman who said something culturally insensitive that had all the anthropology majors staring at each other in disbelief. (I also remember getting a congratulatory peck on the cheek from my hot art history professor because he’d read in the program that I was graduating summa cum laude. I felt a little guilty when final grades came in and I dropped to magna.)
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Tonight’s Hell’s Kitchen served up a hearty plate of drama, and yet I was left hungry and unsatisfied (luckily I always have chocolate on hand). The blowups, arguments, and surprises were abundant, but the show sometimes felt more staged than my elementary school Care Bears play. To give credit where credit is due, however, the phoniness this week was nowhere near as transparent as last week’s J.P./Fransisco debacle. And there were a few genuine surprises (J.!) and some hurl-your-remote-through-your-TV moments. 
Usually, I can’t stand precocious children in movies or sitcoms. You know, the ones that pop into a scene and obnoxiously deliver a line that’s unnaturally funny for a child their age. (I’m looking at you, any child to ever appear in a CBS sitcom!) But I turned a new leaf last night during the young Bobb’e J. Thompson’s cameo on 30 Rock as Tracy Jr. (brother to George Foreman). Now, I loved the kid during Role Models — he practically stole the entire movie — but his hysterical blink-and-you-missed-it appearance on last night’s show proved he’s the funniest kid to break out in Hollywood since Spanky McFarland. Seriously, Thompson held his own against Alec Baldwin! And he looks great in a suit! Even though Thompson has some movies lined up, I’m a selfish person: I want to see the kid nab his own TV show so he can grace my TV screen each week. Who’s with me? Who thinks Thompson deserves his own series?
In the wake of 
I know we all like Seeley Booth (David Boreanaz) because he’s charming and goofy, but, honestly, he’s never sexier to me than when he’s talking seriously about what it means to be a man. Last night’s episode was very interesting both in terms of the case at hand — an alleged teen pregnancy pact that resulted with a dead girl in a winter salt truck — and for how it could factor into 
Me, I loves the Terminator franchise. In all its incarnations. I’ve seen the movies, continue — perhaps against reason — to watch the TV show, read the comics, and played the age-old videogames. I’ve got the premiere of Terminator Salvation marked on my calendar (May 21). I used to un-ironically wear a Cyberdyne baseball cap: That’s how much I love these flicks.
And I mean lots of cake! After all, today marks the 40th anniversary of Eric Carle’s iconic children’s tale, The Very Hungry Caterpillar. It’s a noteworthy birthday, folks: No children’s book, with the exception of Goodnight Moon, has made such an impression on kids over the course of the past four decades. I know that whenever I spy an illustration of an apple, a lollipop, or a piece of salami, my mind immediately reverts to my childhood, when my parents and I would read Carle’s classic on a daily basis. But the book is relatable for people of all ages. After all, who among us hasn’t collapsed into a cacoon-like slumber after eating a ginormous meal? (Few of us wake up as butterflies, however. We just hope our pants fit.) So let’s wish Caterpillar a very happy birthday! We know former president 
