I've been told that I look like Jack Black. I don't see the resemblance myself. What these people probably mean is that I "remind" them of Jables, and I can understand why. We both love good American rock music and good American food, we're both uninhibited and funny, and we both wear size 40 BVD white briefs.

That's why I was asked to review the new Jack Black movie, "School of Rock." Me and my man Toshi took in a preview screening a few weeks ago. I thought it was good, and while a lot of famous movie critics also thought it was good, I think I understood it better then they did. Those critics also liked "Lost in Translation," a movie Toshi and I each wasted 1,800 yen on last weekend. After it was clear Scarlett Johansson's butt wouldn't make a repeat appearance, Toshi nodded off. Me, I was like, What happened to Bill Murray, the star of such classics as "Caddyshack," "Meatballs," "Stripes?" I don't think I've seen a great actor fall so low since Steve Guttenberg got dumped from the "Police Academy" series.

When I say "School of Rock" is good, I mean it captures what it's like to be an outsider, a guy nobody understands. Jack plays Dewey Finn, who's kicked out of the rock band he formed because he's too passionate. Then his dweeby roommate, a substitute teacher, tries to kick him out of their apartment because Dewey hasn't paid the rent and the dweeb's new girlfriend wants the dweeb to be less dweeby. "Why don't you kick her out instead?" Dewey says with impeccable logic. "But I may never have another girlfriend," says the dweeb. Hey, I've been there.