Shot While in Bradley’s Lap

DATELINE:  Day Three: Bradley Versus Baez @ Hernandez Trial

We expected Jose Baez to throw everything at Alexander Bradley to see what sticks. We were not too far off the mark, unlike Hernandez who laughed that he shot one victim in the head and one in the chest.

Jose Baez tried to work his own brand of chicanery by punctuating his cross examination of Alexander Bradley by telling him he “wanted to kill Aaron.”  To which Bradley gladly answered, “Yes, I did.”

The caveat thrown by Baez:  “Because you are a killer.” This caused a flurry of arguments and objections. The judge ruled the comment was inadmissible, but the damage was done.

Baez wants the jury to believe the shooter was the toady-best boyfriend of Hernandez, Bradley himself. It is quite a jump to be the provider of favors like marijuana—and become the personal hit man of the NFL star.

Yet, Baez has made the theory credible to those with weak minds. He hopes a few of them are on the jury.

The great shark of Miami wants you to believe Bradley is a perjurer who has lied to hurt Hernandez because the former Patriot refused to pay hush money. For his part Bradley proudly announced he was a man of principle: he would not snitch—even on the man who blew out his eyeball.

Baez accused Bradley of making up the story of a spilled drink by the unapologetic Daniel de Abreu as the motive for killing him.

Baez also believes the athletic Hernandez was incapable of contorting himself in the lap of Bradley to fire out the driver’s side window to shoot the two men. We suspect Hernandez has contorted himself many times in his gymnastic life.

Bradley is no saint and has shot up a nightclub in Connecticut. If anything, the defense seems to be proving that if you run with dogs you will pick up fleas.


Star Witness Confounds Lawyer Baez and Hernandez

DATELINE:  Juicy Testimony Continues

dead Eye

Alexander Bradley is one cool customer. Spending Day Two, six hours under cross-examination by witness breaker Jose Baez, he seems a man on a mission. Old Dead Eye Bradley knew Hernandez was percolating, ready to pop off his weapon at Cure nightclub.

Old Dead Eye Bradley has pointed his fickle finger at Aaron Hernandez. “J’accuse,” indeed.

He plans to exact revenge on Aaron Hernandez with his peculiar brand of truth: Bradley is a thug emeritus—and a match for killer Hernandez every step of the way. No wonder they were accomplices in crime and avowed mates. Bradley has immunity as a witness to murder.

Baez has intimated and cajoled, ridiculed and slandered, that Bradley is a drug dealer, a gun dealer, a violent person, a vicious thug, and Bradley blithely agrees. The lawyer known for his knock-out punches is becoming punch drunk.

Bradley insisted he will not go down for Hernandez. During hours of patient testimony, he will matter of factly recount how he curried power over paranoid Hernandez to let him know that a bullet between the eyes did not kill him.

He noted how Hernandez hid a gun under the car’s hood and retrieved it because he was furious that, as a Patriot superstar, a nightclub patron was disrespectful and deserved to die. Bradley coldly explained how Hernandez stalked his victims, circling them in his Toyota like a vulture looking for carrion.

Going over emails between them, Bradley pointed out how Hernandez professes “luv” for his kill-mate Bradley. Their ties are both sentimental and horrifying, and hell hath no fury like a drug buddy scorned.

Amid prosecution objections, Bradley remained bemused and continued his onslaught for vindication by sending Hernandez up for two more killings. He now has broken the order to “say nothing to nobody.” He was no longer a loyal hanger-on and had no plans to take the rap for what Hernandez did.

Hernandez is just as cool as the two do their public dance for the benefit of the other as much as for the jury, the public, and posterity.

Bradley will continue to give the hairy eyeball to Baez and Hernandez for day three. The interplay in court is the stuff of movie legend.

Witness for the Prosecution Against Hernandez

DATELINE:  Not Marlene Dietrich

Star witness with immunity Alexander Bradley showed up in court with all the aplomb of Marlene Dietrich testifying against Tyrone Power in Agatha Christie’s Witness for the Prosecution.

Whereas the two former friends glared at each other in the first trial, it was harder for Aaron Hernandez to look Bradley in the eye this time: after all, he shot out one of Bradley’s eyes. He told the court he now wears a prosthetic eye for those who could not see it.

The prosecution also put eyeglasses on Bradley to make him more professorial in his testimony that Hernandez had become more paranoid that Captain Queeg. It wasn’t the strawberries that drove Hernandez over the edge, but the strawberry daiquiri that was spilled on him at the Cure Club.

The only cure for Hernandez’s bruised ego was to gun down the culprits. “What up, (n word)?”  and he fired five rounds, telling driver Bradley that he shot one in the head and one in the chest.

That’s a ringer in gang parlance.

Bradley told the jury that Hernandez was increasingly paranoid, thinking helicopters were chasing him everywhere. He saw plain clothes cops sitting wherever he went. The net was closing in on him—alas, the men in white coats with nets were too late.

Four months after killing his second and third victims, Hernandez tried again by shooting Bradley and dumping him out on to a Miami curb. This time the cure did not work. Whenever Bradley called Hernandez in months that followed, Hernandez hung up. He knew this was it:  Dial M for Murder.

Bradley admitted he never told police initially that Hernandez shot him because he wanted to kill him personally.

Star witnesses don’t come with more drama, leaving us to wonder about who can play Marlene Dietrich/Alexander Bradley in the movie version of the old sordid tale.

Round Three: Bette & Joan Battle to a Draw

DATELINE: More Juice and Sauce

sarandon as davis

Sarandon as Bette Davis

With the principal photography on Whatever Happened to Baby Jane completed by the end of the third episode of the series Feud, you might wonder where the show goes from here.

During the third episode both women Davis and Crawford seem to miss working together, no matter how difficult and painful they are to each other.

Their lives off the screen became increasingly empty and lonely, alienated from their rebellious daughters, and wallowing in self-pity over growing older with little happiness to show for it.

Along the way, there are still plenty of laughs when it comes to their association. They never had a female friend of the same peerage, and however hard they knock heads, there is some respect for the other.

If anyone is the villain in this series, it is the dreaded dragon Hedda Hopper – the venomous gossip columnist who suckers in Joan repeatedly, but never Bette. She prints vile gossip wheedled out of Mommy Dearest.  Joan begins to regret most of it.

Along the way that Bette becomes quite attached to obese and gay actor Victor Buono (Dominic Burgess) and even bailed him out of jail when he’s caught in a police sting operation with a young man.

Suffering constant dyspepsia, Alfred Molina seems trapped in Robert Aldrich’s character, feeling self-loathing for his cruel misuse of the star actresses at the behest of Jack Warner (Stanley Tucci).  Aldrich’s assistant tells him that he is directing a war movie after all, though he loathed to take on such projects.

The lead performances are luminous in every case of the show, and Sarandon and Lange seem to fit into their classic star counterparts with increasing ease. The moments when Joan and Bette socialize highlight their wish for need for friends. By the end of the episode, they’ve gone to neutral corners.

Aldrich is surprised and astounded that his great actresses both were filling with energy and youth in all their final scenes, they were so enjoying the creative opportunities.

Still to come is the Oscar fight and the attempt to make another movie together that will end in utter failure. Every scene has been filled with pathos and hilarity, but surely may only resonate with those knowing Hollywood history.

Shirts Off Tom Brady’s Back

parade-6 T

DATELINE:  Shirtless in Houston

The louse who took time Brady’s blouse has been caught.  The Mounties get their man, and so apparently do the FBI. It appears that the thief is from below the border with real journalist credentials.

Hats off to the guys who found the shirts off Tom.

What’s worse, he seems to be a serial jersey swiper. FBI reportedly found the missing game jersey Tom wore in 2015 with its 2017 counterpart.

In an age when the FBI is investigating Russian ties to President Trump and Russian hacking of the recent presidential campaign of Hillary Clinton, Hoover’s minions have found time to solve the biggest sports mystery of the century.

It also and apparently pays to have friends in high places. This could be the biggest triumph of the Trump administration so far. It’s been a month since somebody put their mitts on Tom Brady’s half $1 million blouse—and we have answers before we have evidence that Obama bugged Trump. (Well, he bugs Trump every day.)

Brady’s stolen jersey is a victim of international intrigue. We aren’t sure whether to blame Goldfinger or Jason Bourne. It used to be that you had Interpol going after international jewel thieves, but today the James Bond mentality lives among our local law-enforcement.

The FBI has found Tom’s jersey on “foreign soil. ” No doubt, it was soiled too.

Our first suspicions went to the culprit of Bob Kraft Super Bowl ring, which was taken by Vladimir Putin in Russia several years ago. Now suspicion falls again on the Kremlin, or their minions. Did the Russian mob pull a bag job? Did they farm the crime out to the Mexican drug cartel?

We suspect Trump will say we need a wall more than ever, not to keep aliens out but to keep Tom Brady’s equipment in.

That two Brady blouses were discovered means that we have an organized and serial criminal operation that loots the bounty from the sacred locker rooms of America. This is worse than terror; it is sacrilege.

We expect to see President Trump holding the recovered blouse and handing it to Brady at a press conference soon. Right now Trump needs all the positive publicity he can find.

More Hard-Hitting Evidence in Hernandez Trial

DATELINE:  No Brainers and Non-starters

 gonads   Notable Hard Head

If you were dumb enough to lease a car to Aaron Hernandez, then you lost your vehicle. After the drive-by shooting, the car was put into a garage and “lost.” Since the police found it in Connecticut, it has been in custody since 2014.

The owner of the Toyota lease program, president of his company Fox Toyota, received a great payment for working with Aaron Hernandez:  free tickets to the Patriots games.

For this, he provided a car for purposes of drive-by shootings, gun purchases, drug deals, and letting Hernandez’s posse have wheels.

What a deal! Alas, when Jack Fox of Fox Toyota testified this week, his insights were ignored and the rabid defense team had nothing much to say about to him about Toyota lease programs.

It showed that hard evidence often is related to a hard head.

What did Jack Fox of Toyota know and when did he know it?

Mr. Fox gave testimony that he provided all service for the lease model 4Runner in Mr. Hernandez’s possession. Instead of subscribing to AAA or some other service, the Patriot star would call Fox Toyota to fix any issue. No doubt, he also had access to a “loaner” if he needed it.

When the automobile would not start one morning, Hernandez was rightly indignant. He needed a silver vehicle to continue his free-loading NFL lifestyle.

Hernandez blithely drove the car for four weeks before calling Fox with a major repair issue.

So, Fox personally came to the Hernandez McMansion to look at the car and determine its problem.

You guessed it: the car was out of gas. Rocket scientists across the world noted this incident was proof that the legendary Patriots playbook was a complex document that required hours of study to be absorbed only by the brightest of minds.

Aaron Hernandez has a lineless face, an expected outcome for a man living and killing without worry.

So, to Aaron Hernandez goes this year’s Alfred E. Neumann trophy for man most likely to overlook minor details.

Turn of the Screw Meets Downton Abbey

DATELINE: Strange Fellowes

from time

Julian Fellowes held some out of town tryouts before his big hit with the upper crust Downton Abbey.  Gathering together two of his principals (Maggie Smith, Hugh Bonneville), Fellowes chose a story that would have been an old-fashioned Walt Disney British movie with Haley Mills in the 1960s. From Time to Time is time enough.

Instead, it was a flop in America—and may be a curio because of the great cult success of the successor to Upstairs/Downstairs. Indeed, Pauline Collins—once the upstairs maid—is now Maggie Smith’s housekeeper. The year is 1944—and young Tolly is sent to stay with his grandmother to stay clear of the war in Manchester.

Tolly (Alex Etel) is no Haley Mills; we leave that sort of thing to Douglas Booth (Sefton). Tolly is a clairvoyant and soon realizes he can weave between timeframes at his granny’s estate. Soon he is spirit in 1810 as distant ancestors have family squabbles over Jacob, a slave boy, that Hugh Bonneville has brought to England as a companion for his blind daughter.

After that, you might expect complications with two astral planes and plenty of dirty laundry. Performances are uniformly superior to whatever passes for movies nowadays; this is a Fellowes production, written and directed by Julian

We give kudos to Dominic West as the butler Caxton, not Carson, and his odd relationship with the son of the manor, Douglas Booth as the foppish jeunesse doree, Sefton. Also around is gardener Timothy Spall in the modern age.

The film falls short of Gosford Park or Downton Abbey, but if you are in the neighborhood, you may as well stop by for tea, ghosts, and sympathy if you have time on your hands.


Aaron Hernandez Books Re-issued

DATELINE: Popular Demand?

Ossurworld has made the first two Hernandez books available for interested readers.




An equal number of readers have asked for the books return to e-book under’s offering for smart readers on their smart devices.

An equal number of readers have asked that the paperback versions be burned. The groupies in support of Hernandez are asked not to read these two volumes. Others may find the slanted, snide, and vicious attitude of Ossurworld right up their proverbial alleys.

The third, and final, installment is underway with daily coverage of Hernandez’s double murder trial in Boston. As soon as the jury decides, you will find the trilogy complete.





Continued Snide Cracks from the Hernandez Defenders

DATELINE: Tatt for Tit

tatt for tit  Ink Blot David Nelson

As another week winds up, the Aaron Hernandez defense team continues to hurl invective, insult, and ridicule at the prosecution list of witnesses.

We object, Your Honor! Jose Baez and his snapdragon colleagues have usurped the privilege of snide, satiric, and nasty bloggers. That’s our purview!

When Judge Locke decided to let jurors actually hear the witnesses the prosecution has brought in, he warned them not to take the testimony as evidence of a criminal intent or behavior of Hernandez. Heaven forefend that anyone use their college educations in deconstructing information.

With the Hermosa Beach Inkster on the stand, Baez asked if the prosecution actually flew him to Boston on their nickel and have put him up at the local Holiday Inn for this testimony. We would rather ask why did Hernandez, living in nearby Foxboro with friends and family in Connecticut, go all the way to Redondo Beach for his tattoos.

Baez also asked the witness if other celebrities of Hernandez’s ilk, like Rhianna, had also asked for gun tattoos. Pardon me all to hell, but what on earth does that mean?

David Nelson, the California tattoo artist, looks like he’d be at home at the Ozzie and Harriet dinner table, not your stereotypical grizzled, drug-addled tattoo specialist. As a matter of fact, despite accusing most witnesses for the prosecution of being of dubious moral character, they all look rather pedestrian.

Call us a glutton for punishment, but we really want to see the tats on Hernandez’s ass.

Jose Baez clearly believes if you don’t have anything nice to say, say it anyhow.

Tatts Talk in Hernandez Trial

DATELINE: Tattle-Tale Tattoos

 upclose& personal

The tattoo artist of Aaron Hernandez has come to Boston from California to testify—except the judge would not let them hear what he had to say. Instead, he told the trial without a jury about the weird tattoos.

No one mentioned that Hernandez had the tattoos place on his body while out training with Tom Brady. Heavens, don’t bring up the GOAT’s name in conjunction with this.

One of the tattoos is backwards, like a Leonardo da Vinci notebook, only readable in a mirror. It said: sevigrof doG.  The other notable ink was of five bullets in a gun chamber with one missing—and a smoking barrel.

Prosecutors contend this is tantamount to a confession. Hernandez merely said to leave one chamber empty on his cylinder tattoo. Well, that makes all the difference.

The defense continued its aggressive tone by yelling at a witness if he knew what perjury was. David Nelson, not related to Ozzie and Harriet, was the Inkster for Hernandez and seems, like snow plow driver McMasters, a rather obsequious type that would kowtow to the Dominant A-personality of Hernandez.

Jurors have already seen most of the tattoos on the body of the former Patriot. He liked to show them off in a series of pictures over the years. Flaunting it like a body builder, Hernandez is a man of titanic ego.

Judge Locke&Key will decide whether the jury ever hears from the tattoo artist. Add this to a list of witnesses who have remained silent in terms of telling what they know.


Hightower Rejects Cupcakes from Jets


DATELINE: Dont’ya Know


When the Patriots want you, there is no doubt.

Dont’a Hightower did his world tour for free agentry, making pit stops in New York and Pittsburgh. The Jets offered him cupcakes on his birthday.

Alas, no confection matches the confetti of a Super Bowl duck boat ride. Hightower’s attempt to find a rich contract among the NFL losers was bound to fail.

Every team he contacted disbelieved his story that he wanted to find a new home if the money were right.

No amount of money can bring them the peace of a Super Bowl victory—and they found his argument that he would join them for a price to be patently ridiculous. No one bought his tale that he would jump off Bill Belichick’s duck boat.

And, they were right. The grass is only greener in other NFL stadiums if they brush it up with a little green dye. In that case, it’s clearly the green stuff.

No team can offer the guarantee of the greatest QB for the next four years. Both Tom Brady and Don’t’a Hightower are on the ticket for four more years. They likely will both retire when Donald Trump runs for re-election.

In the meantime, you might expect at least one more SuperBowl ticker tape measure for their Hall of Fame careers.

Of course, Hightower was not going to put himself in the low tower when he can grab the gold ring with another twirl of the Patriots carousel.

If anyone tells you Hightower signed with the Patriots for the money of $44million over four years, Dont’a believe it.

Sleeping Beauties Among Passengers

 DATELINE:  Going Down with the Spaceship


Beware of starships where the crew is asleep at the switch for 100 years.

Passengers is an intelligent futuristic science-fiction thriller that brings us the torments of automated voices, automatons, and obtuse robots, which actually sounds much like the present.

The stars couldn’t be more beautiful or appealing. They are both Sleeping Beauties, though only one is Aurora—and played that part in a Disney movie too. We speak of Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence who could carry any film on their personalities and looks—and do just that.

When a malfunction awakens Chris Pratt about 90 years before they reach their destination in outer space, he is alone on a massive space odyssey. Few young actors can play the surreality for laughs quite like Pratt who has an easy style that makes him appealing in adventure tales.

His costar is Jennifer Lawrence, also stunning and down-to-earth. They are thrown together like Adam and Eve on a voyage that looks a trip to Gilligan’s Island as told by Stanley Kubrick. Their ship is an intergalactic Titanic.

Their situation and moral decisions of Pratt’s character may be dubious, but seem valid. Also along for the ride as a Greek Chorus is Michael Sheen as an android on wheels behind a bar right out of the Overlook Hotel.

Clever references and parallels fit the story and compel its suspense. Only Laurence Fishburne in a valid cameo—and Andy Garcia in a walk-on are the other big names in the cast. Everyone else is a hologram for a few moments.

The film recalls many other spaceship tales, from Star Trek movies to the classic 2001: A Space Odyssey or even The Shining. The director Morten Tyldum appears to have studied Kubrick.

Charming actors and intelligent scripts tend to overcome most every movie issue. They don’t have to worry about this story; it’s delightful.

Patriots Butler Did It (to himself)

DATELINE: From Frying Pan to Belichick’s Crock Pot

frying pan to steamer.jpg

We grow weary of the stories of stoic, suffering Malcolm Butler of the Patriots and his need for a cash injection to swell up his ego. His agent claims he is not asking for the moon, but merely wants a large asteroid.

In any case, this is like asking Bill Belichick for a blank check.

Alas, poor Butler, he’s in the pantry without his pantaloons. And his agent is no dresser.

Butler seems about to be cast off from the Patriots after asking for $13 million per year. He is offended that the Patriots offered another player who could replace him that largesse of money. Instead from Bill’s checkbook they have offered him merely a pay raise five times what he was making this season.

It’s never enough in the world of Midas touches.

The Patriots plucked Butler out of the deep fryar of a chicken fast-food chain and gave him a chance to become a star. Now he wants 20x what he made last year. It looks like the New Orleans Saints are willing to order the chicken wings de luxe.

Whether Butler will serve din-din to the Patriots defense for another season will be a decision that occurs when Belichick matches any offer. Hold the sauce. Butlers are out of fashion in Gillette Stadium where dumb waiters are the norm.

So now Malcolm Butler’s agent is shopping around for a team that will actually pay the Patriots a first round draft pick and take the Under-Butler away from Super Bowl teams with accompanying rings.

Footmen fans claimed the Butler has had an unfortunate lesson in the business of NFL football. We suspect Malcolm suffers from the chicken-feed killer, yes, one of the deadliest sins, greed.

Mass. Gun Control, Aaron Hernandez Style

DATELINE: Alleged Fair Trial

attentive alleged assassinAttentive Alleged Assassin

On Monday the Hernandez jury took its first vote at the behest of the judge who asked if they wanted to brave the upcoming alleged blizzard that threatened to bomb them out of their lives.

The Jury acquitted themselves, but it was a close vote. They declined to hold a session on Tuesday when a bad snowstorm hit Boston’s Suffolk Courthouse.

So, Monday blithely proceeded to display the alleged murder weapon Hernandez used to brutally and allegedly shoot two innocent men.

Oh, wait, according to the defense, these were dangerous thugs and drug dealers who were part of a gang and deserved to be shot down in their car on a Boston street.

How police found the gun proves how accidents happen.

Another woman, part of the extended Hernandez groupie network, had a crash in Springfield, Mass., and in a routine examination of the car after she went to hospital, they found a strange black briefcase. Lo and behold, inside was the weapon that killed Daniel and Safiro.

No explanations were allowed on how it ended up in Miss Jailene Ramos-Diaz’s car.  Yes, her name is Jailene, an apparent “acquaintance” of Hernandez, though jurors were not allowed to hear this. We wouldn’t make this stuff up.

The defense offered another hacking attack on police, not letting him answer any question until the detective told her to let him answer. There were no fingerprints on the gun.

The Judge then sent the jury to lunch while testimony continued on ballistics. They matched the bullets that killed the two men to the gun. Why was the jury sent away and not allowed to hear this?

Your guess may be fairly accurate. It is an alleged valiant attempt to help jumpstart Hernandez’s shot-to-hell alleged football career. Heavens, allegedly.

Space Aliens Need Not Apply

DATELINE:  Narration by O.H. Krill?

 alien crash retrievals

Alien Crash Retrievals is a low-budget documentary. We cannot blame the movie for suffering from poor investors, but this one seems an intriguing compendium of all the United States UFO crashes.

Done mostly with stock footage and repetitive special effects, often mismatching the historical events, the information or disinformation is compelling. When discussing pre-World War II military, we are often shown modern troops with their modern weapons.

However jarring it is to see out-of-place images, the summaries of various crashes are amplified. Those familiar with details might call it a rehash, but each incident is explained with some newer (2015) insights.

Of course, as these documentaries go, the longer they run, the more fantastic the claims become. Yet, this is one of the rare docs that contend UFOs are being shot down deliberately by the government to pirate the technology. The narration indicates this is not a wise policy.

Captured aliens live and are kept as prisoners for their information and knowledge. And, as usual, the whistleblowers are not high-ranking people, but non-coms without academic credentials. The US government seems to thrive on people they educate and they select.

People like Bob Lazar, out of the limelight from his Area 51 days, seems to be vindicated in recent years. Back engineered, captured spacecraft have given the U.S. great capabilities that are withheld from the general public.

We looked at collapse of civilization theories in the recent film Arrival, and such considerations are airtight policy according to this little film, running slightly over an hour.

Explanations try to make more logical sense in this movie exercise of yellow journalism. We are tempted to quote another film: “Be afraid, be very afraid.” Gulp hard and hope they are wrong.