Sure, Thanksgiving is supposed to be about carved-in-stone traditions-Detroit Lions NFL games, drippy cranberry sauce, the day after shopping craze, the nationwide massacre of an arbitrary bird, the token acknowledgement of Pilgrim-Indian relations-but where in the bylaws for Turkey Day does it demand that pop culture dissolve into templates?

In movie theaters, it's a wasteland of retreads. Rugrats in Paris and 102 Dalmatians are unwelcome sequels, The Grinch is an uninvited, ill-intentioned remake (it was the first movie I've walked out of since Boxing Helena), The Sixth Day is another Arnold clone (my brother carped, "I saw that last year"; "Nooo. That was End of Days," I answered). Unbreakable has its charms, but it also relies on the same pacing, colors, stars (Willis and a Haley Joel look-alike), and even kitchen (!) as The Sixth Sense. Bounce showcases a been-there-done-that Benneth love affair, Charlie's Angels is a pastiche of allusions, and floundering somewhere in this mix is a Blair Witch sequel which is only seen when other movies at the multiplex are sold out.

Turning your dial to a pop radio station is like turning back to 1999. The Backstreet Boys' new album rehashes track-for-track the pointless pseudo R&B and insufferable ballads of Millennium (cool drinking game: take a shot every time you can name the Millennium song that inspired a new album cut). Perhaps the only interesting thing about Black and Blue is its odd title (didn't you expect something like Jive-in' with the Homies?). The Boys prefer to leave its meaning ambiguous, perhaps because the label chose the title and they're as befuddled as we are, but the consensus is that the "black" refers to their transparent, futile attempts at hip-hop while the "blue" calls attention to their nauseating love songs.

Press "seek" on your radio controls and you might run into Jennifer Lopez' new single, "My Love Don't Cost a Thing," which has a melody eerily similar to "If You Had My Love" (wait! Two complaints: 1) "If You Had My Love" suggested a possibility that you might not get Jen's love while "My Love Don't Cost a Thing" gives up even that token pretense of resistance. What a tramp!... and 2) I think Puff Daddy would disagree. Jennifer's love costs a whole lotta dough. No "Ifs", ands, or butts about it.) Hit "seek" again and you'll also inevitably hear more of Ricky Martin's bastardized Latin pop. Like the BSB, the only interesting thing about Ricky's new album is the title for its first single, "She Bangs." Unfortunately, Bon Bon Ricky can't take credit for pushing the envelope-when asked to explain it, he gushes, "She bangs! It's a metaphor for the universe. You know the big bang theory? So the universe is really this 'mother universe'-she bangs, and explodes. She moves. The planets, the galaxies, are all moving. That's what it means." New rule for pop stars: Sing, Don't Speak.

And just to crystallize my point that we're stuck in a perverse time machine, the University of Miami Hurricanes are threatening for the college football national championship.

IN THE (K)NOW SUPERSTARS!

I went searching for more worthy candidates.

It Boy: Any boy who didn't punch a final club. Congratulations. You have dignity.