Frankylize this

This guy has a penchant for landing sweet gigs. I was commuting from South Tacoma to North Kirkland to write tech manuals for a manufacturing software company when the first version of Microsoft's Cinemania came out, and all I could think was, now THAT'S a job worth a 2-hour commute. When Cinemania closed shop four years later, I had made my way into the vast editorial universe of Microsoft's late-90s CD-ROM boom (editing road-trip content, a close second to movies in my book). Heartbroken at the prospect of a Cinemania-less universe, I penned a commiserative e-mail to that team's lead editor, one Jim Emerson.

Within a year, I noticed that Mr. Emerson had resurfaced with his own slick and sublime film website, the Cinepad, offering such delights as Plumbing the depths ("how the movies use plumbing as a pipeline to the subconscious"); a section of Twin Peaks analysis; beautiful tributes to Buster Keaton and Barbara Stanwyck; and the intriguing but unfinished Dark Room (best tribute to film noir I've ever seen, woefully abandoned in mid-construction).

Today, Jim edits and blogs for Roger Ebert, gets to vote in the decadal Sight & Sound Critics' Top Ten Poll, and even has a Razzie nomination under his belt. All good stuff.

But Jim's greatest contribution to modern civilization, oddly enough, has nothing to do with movies. Rather, it is his patented marvel of modern algorithmic convenience — the Frank-ylizer. Simply input your plans for the evening (dancing? boozing?) and your venue of choice (Uptown Club? Starlite Lounge?), then step up to the bar and name your poison (champagne? bourbon?), and ring-a-ding-ding — the miracle Frank-ylizer spits out the perfect Sinatra soundtrack for your evening.

The damn thing actually works (at the very least, it'll have you running to Amazon or iTunes to fill in gaps in your Frank collection).

Set em up, Joe — and leave the bottle.