Surecock Holmes is surprisingly the most faithful adaptation of the source material on this entire list.
There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. See you next year when Steven Spielberg, Oliver Stone, Ang Lee and McG decide to simultaneously put out s****y adaptations of The Snorks.



A bonus, unrelated-to-this-particular-article Note! Folks, the rumors you've heard are true: After a couple of really great decades, I'm leaving the East Coast. I hereby resign as the EC's unofficial Mayor and pass all of my mayoral duties on to this guy Joe I know, (you'll like him). So, next week, my brother and I will be driving across country and relocating to Los Angeles. [The official press release regarding the relocation has been reprinted below.] Maybe it's because of the beaches. Or maybe it's because, once I found out Swaim was living there, I figured "Hell, anyone can do it." Or maybe it's just because I heard that California's a little bit cooler about that whole Megan's Law thing. Whatever the reason, I'll officially be one of those smug, LA assholes by this time next week; Sipping martini's, sniffing coketini's, and boning chicktini's like there's no tomorrowtini. What does this all mean for you, my beautiful, delicious children? It means that I won't be posting my column next week as I will be smack dab in the middle of my cross country trek, and for that I sincerely apologize. I know how you folks crave my warm, comforting jokes and my dangerous obsession with young Hollywood starlets, but even if I do get to California in time, I will undoubtedly be either watching The Dark Knight or seeing if I can buy some of this crack I've heard so much about. (Is it anything like jalapeno poppers? Because I love jalapeno poppers.) If you find yourself itching, twitching and jonesing for a comedy fix, (like some kind of deranged jalapeno popper addict), I encourage you to check out my ridiculous book, (it's free). Or, check out Gladstone's book, (it isn't). OR, check out these tasteful nude photographs of Chris Bucholz that Annie Leibowitz took. If you haven't already figured out that all of those links take you directly to my book, please click here and I'll clear everything up. Don't worry, friends. This isn't "Goodbye," it's just "f**k off, for a little while."

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