Kubrick Monolith Inspires Monkeys Everywhere!

DATELINE:  Ape Uses Bonehead?

With the news that the late Stanley Kubrick has sent a monolith to Utah, we have had flashbacks about the meaning for humankind.

In Kubrick’s movie, this led to rediscoveries on the Moon and on an orb going around Jupiter.

The heavy footed plodding of officials have muffed all chance of finding footprints or other characteristics of a forensic nature. We have some reports that the metal object is made with screws: no word on whether they are Phillips head.

It is interesting that the item is in a remote and difficult to reach place, presumably dropped there by chopper or UFO. We would have been much more impressed if the item had been found at the White House Rose Garden, or even in Joe Biden’s basement.

There is no word if this indicates we will have a cure for coronavirus soon, or whether it means the Dow will hit 30,000 for the first time.

We feel that it supersedes having Xmas decorations needed during a national crisis. The government should send everyone in the United States, who is eligible, a postcard photo of the monolith. It will replace stimulus checks.

The strange object is illegal, of course, but the meter maids have yet to stick a parking ticket on the shiny silver object.

We think someone has usurped the season’s findings at Oak Island. This monolith was supposed to be found by Gary Drayton’s metal detector next to Captain Kidd’s treasure.

The real impact of the monolith has been dulled because we do not hear the Gregorian chants emanating from its radio dial.

 

Death in Venice Part 2

Death in Venice and Washington?

DATELINE: Drips for Drips

Not since Death in Venice when Dirk Bogarde’s bad dye job melted during a pandemic have we seen such a just dessert.

Yes, that’s Rudi Giuliani playing the role of a lifetime: the man who catches the coronavirus while chasing young electoral college voters! In the famous Visconti movie, Von Aschenbach loses his youth to bad makeup under the unrelenting conditions of Venice at its worst.

Now, Rudi loses his cool to bad mascara dripping off his sideburns under the unrelenting conditions of Trump at its worst.

We did not realize that Rudi had been cast in a remake of the great classic tale of unremitting moral decay in the face of losing an election.

Trump has simply drained his hair of all color, and Rudi has not taken the cues properly. His master will not be pleased to turn his press conferences into streaming jokes with streaming bad dye dripping.

The other case of drips came when the Wicked Witch of the West stole Toto and was pressed by the Electoral College to return the mutt to a Kansas voting booth. 

All bad taste aside, when you’re paid $20,000 a day to represent the POTUS, you likely don’t have a potus to put hair dye in.

 

Trump’s Stooges

Killers for Trump

 

DATELINE;  Waiting for Marching Orders

Dangerous followers of Trump are around every corner, armed to the teeth with automatic weapons. They parade in the streets and they congregate at places where votes are tabulated. Their intimidation is not a bluff.

Yes, the election is over and the evil caste of Trump racists and Nazis is upon us.

We should remind you of the past killers who have supported Trump. There is no joke here, only terror.

Over the past few years, you had Den Hollander, Nickolas Cruz, and Anthony Comelo. They are now either dead or in prison, but others await to take their place.

In case you forgot, here is a thumbnail sketch of each of these works of horror.

Anthony Comelo was another MAGA hat wearer. He considered any in America who were not born here as “invaders.”

The self-named Annihilator Nickolas Cruz put a MAGA hat on the urn of his dead mother as she was sent to her crypt; she was one who hated Trump. Her murderer son had the last word to belittle and defame his own mother. Now, there’s a real Trump lover.

Trump supporters are the salt of the earth and are genuine American citizens. Because the 19-year-old couldn’t buy a gun in Florida he went for an assault rifle. It’s much easier to shoot, buy, and use. He was partial to merchandise with American logos. Hence, he posted a photo wearing a bandana over his face with stripes on it.

Cesar Sayoc crying out his eyes that he wanted to blow up people for Trump. He regretted being caught.

Whether they are shooting at you from a high rise in Las Vegas, or in a nightclub in Florida, or a mosque in Christchurch, you can count on the fact that your killer and murderer will likely count himself among those who find Donald Trump the man of the hour.

Trump supporters are urging people to buy more AR 15s in case they are banned. They are preparing to go to the White House for a shootout if impeachment dares to rear its head.

They will start shooting media stars. How many lists of famed CNN TV personalities have found their names scrawled in the demented scribbles of killers and potential mass murderers? We are now at the point of having lost count

Den Hollander was another killer (full name: Roy Den Hollander) was a Trump supporter. The man who tried to kill an appointed Obama judge Esther Salas, but only managed to kill her teenage son and shoot her husband, was a Trump fanatic.

One after another, these believers in Trumpism (actually a synonym for racism) are dangerous, vile, and ready to engage in violence for the man who encouraged their mad obsessions.

 

 

 

 

 

Escape from Devil’s Island

co-star/co-author Jan Merlin

 

DATELINE: 1973 Blaxploitation Movie

 Jim Brown’s prison movie about the 1917 French island prison came before the prestige movie with McQueen, titled Papillion. They had overlapped during filming, but the speed of Roger Corman could not be matched. He was not interested in “art.” He wanted a product that might titillate audiences

I Escaped from Devil’s Island  had all those ingredients.

The film began on a high note: Jim Brown is dragged from his cell in the tropical prison to a makeshift guillotine. He is about to be beheaded before the credits even roll. No flashback was required because the sado-masochistic guards had set this up, knowing a general amnesty for all French prisoners had arrived and no one would be executed. It was cruel kindness.

Of course, this Roger Corman quickie was called a blaxploitation film, geared toward making black audiences approve of a black hero. It’s hard to realize Brown was really doing trail-blazing work, and perhaps the other shocking part of the movie was the open homosexual relationships in the movie. The gay characters are in eye-makeup and are called “fancy boys,” who have boyfriends like James Luisi and Chris George. Rick Ely played the pretty boy who has his nipples tortured in one scene.

Jan Merlin, in eyeglasses, played the leader of the political prisoners—and a communist, which was a true work of performance since Jan was a Republican. For him it was another character unlike his cultured, soft-spoken self,  playing at abrasive, uncouth villains. We must confess to be transparent that Jan co-authored many books with Ossurworld.

The “F” word is used surprisingly often for the first time in movies here, often just to discuss homosexual relations. And nearly every male to male encounter is fraught with both sexual and sadistic overtones.

Once the escape plan takes hold, the movie seems to peter out. Yet, films like this paved the way for leading men of the future like Denzel Washington.

The film deteriorates toward the end with a chaotic fireworks display in a city to help the escapees flee authority.

The best performance in this movie was given by Acapulco, the Mexican resort town, playing Devil’s Island.

Enola Gay Holmes Springer

 Cast of Enola.

 DATELINE:  Conan Doyle Rolling in Grave

The remnants of the Arthur Conan Doyle estate have scrapped together a lawsuit against the elements of Sherlock that are not public domain. These ten points of contention are the part and parcel of some post-feminist novels by one Nancy Springer.

We are more horrified by the endless string of ridiculous anachronisms the story seems to throw at history.

Netflix, ever the opportunist, has adapted the novels to a film on their ersatz network of third-rate shows, figuring a ripoff of Holmes fits right in.

It’s likely no mistake that the name of the airplane that dropped the atom bomb on Japan to end World War II is named “Enola.”

The lawsuit takes umbrage with the emotional turmoil when Sherlock must deal with a younger sister as well as a smarter brother. Talk about family troubles.

Throw in Sherlock’s mother as some kind of harpie, and you have the makings of a legal argument. We never had much faith in these family ties or family feud with Sherlock. We always suspected that Mrs. Hudson was his out-of-wedlock mother. She did refer to Mycroft once as a “reptile,” which surely is not motherly. Or is it?

Ignoring an upstart sister seems a fairly proper approach for Sherlock, but he had to put up with an obtuse Watson, mostly created for movie humor, but to give Holmes more emotion than Mr. Spock seems a stretch to the law offices of our solicitor.

We are now feeling emotional blackmail to tune into a Netflix series to give our usual slice and dice approach to all things un-Sherlockian.

To update Sherlock like he is one of the Ma and Pa Kettle movie series of the 1940s is enough to make us eshew the Poverty Row studios once and for all time. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John Winston Lennon

Original Duo?

 

DATELINE:  Roots of Lennon

Quite a duo.

Documentary biography, Looking for Lennon comes out 40 years after Beatle John Lennon’s death at the hands of a deranged killer.

The documentary is more studious than what you’d expect, and it pronounces at the start that it will likely inform you of much you never knew about the early days of the Beatle’s point-man. Indeed, the film comes across as a sociological look at the environs in which young Lennon grew up.

On the day of his birth, the Nazi blitz did not hit Liverpool. His mother gave him the middle name after prime minister Winston Churchill.

His parents were part of a long-time Irish ghetto of immigrants who came as part of the potato famine 100 years earlier. And, his father was a merchant seaman who was on dangerous duty on the Atlantic.

Lennon’s father returned from war duty to find his wife pregnant by another man. Under these trying circumstances, the boy was doomed to have problems.

His early years in the 1940s couldn’t have been more different than his adolescence in the 1950s.

Lennon went to live with his Aunt Mimi who gave him a normal, middle-class and stable life for a few years before he moved into music with his sensitivity and natural abilities.

By the time he entered art school, he had either a devoted group of friends, or people who found him insufferable. He gathered George and Paul and began his musical group. They played American music: Hank Williams and Little Richard, an odd taste.

Yet, his life was in turmoil often, and when his mother Julia died, hit by a car, he became more remote and more of what the world would come to see as the lead Beatle.

No sooner had Lennon found someone special for his group (Stuart Sutcliffe), a beautiful young man, he died of cerebral blood clot.

By then, Brian Epstein took over management, cleaned them up, found Ringo, and history commenced in earnest.

REAL VAMPIRES?

Unfortunate Victim Exhumed

DATELINE: Monsterquest Tries Too Hard

The Gold Standard of monster investigations is, of course, the series Monsterquest. So, when they chose to coincide Halloween with an examination of vampires, we were ready to dig in.

As the show is always attempting to find a fresh angle, the episode does not mention Dracula for almost fifteen minutes.

They do tell us about a strange burial or re-burial in one of the leading spots of vampires in America: New England. That surprised us, but to learn that the bones of a suspected vampire are now kept in government archives was even more interesting.

 

A couple of aficionados of the vampire lore want to see what was going on in Willington, CT, 200 years ago that led to a spate of vampire reports. They also note that Bram Stoker too had a clipping of vampire story out of the New England archives to help him with writing his Dracula tale.

Since it will take longer than the show can wait, we never find out if the bodies they suspect will be exhumed or if family will allow this. Another dead end.

Monsterquest contends that vampires are a love-hate fascination with immortality.

 

A great deal of effort is put into finding “unmarked graves” that could harbor people who died of consumption (TB) and were thought to be vampiric. There may be many reasons why family members are buried without markers, but the theory here is vampirism.

 

While claiming to attempt to prove vampires exist, the show examines several murderers who believed their vampire character allowed them to live outside law. There is almost a kind of sympathy for these creatures, according to witnesses.

 

There is also an emphasis on “psychic vampires” who simply take electro-magnetic energy from others to gain strength.

 

What we have here is another example of a bad episode more than any serious insight. Monsterquest keeps its track record of having every other episode be a doozy.

 

 

 

 

 

Boston Sinks in the Fenway Miasma

Gone with the Victories

 

DATELINE: Run Out of Town, Fast

Flush twice, Boston. It’s a long way to the bottom of the septic tank.

It would appear only two people recognized how bad Boston’s sports teams would be this year: the two stars who bailed on the town they never liked. We speak of Mookie Betts (World Series victor) and Tom Brady (another Super Bowl in Tompa Bay).

Every sports pundit and media expert in Boston failed to see the writing on the wall. Maybe they just can’t read Sanskrit or profanity.

Some are now casting blame on the genius Bill Belichick. Those people have clearly thought genius and hubris were synonyms. Belichck systematically disarmed Tom Brady over the years until the man ran off with Antonia Brown, deserting his Julie in the process. 

The Red Sox threw a boatload of money at Mookie and he gave them the finger, not the thumbs up. Some claim these Trump supporters hated Boston’s political climate—as does Belichick. And owners who poured cash into winning, now are extracting cash faster than you can say Trump Tower bankruptcy.

Only Robert Kraft who likes to kiss his players’ butt has been caught with his pants down. John Henry has become the Claude Rains of Boston We used to see him at Symphony Hall now and then with a beautiful young man in tow, but the pandemic seems to have put the kibosh on those tunes.

Now we have a Bean Town full of beans and no counters to the problem of no beanie balls.

We are headed back to the 1960s when Patsies played at Fenway to empty seats and the Sox played to the same group in the other season.

No one believes us when we tell them about the good old days  when you could go to Fenway on game day and find a box seat two rows back from the field. Maybe those days are coming baaaack.

 

 

Borat’s Subsequent Moviejob

 No Monkey on Back?

 DATELINE: Borat’s Bell Ringing

Sacha Baron Cohen has been called “a creep” by the POTUS because of his merciless political satire on the entire McDonald Trump administration. Oi Vey, to say the least.

In a turn of the screw, Cohen’s Borat refers to the fast-food President as McDonalds Trump. There is one zinger after another in this horrifying movie. Borat requires a sense of humor of the 21stcentury: Oscar Wilde and Noel Coward fans need not apply.

Borat comes, as his followers know, from a backward nation under Putin’s thumb. There is an Arab streak in him inexplicably. Since his first movie fifteen years ago, he has been a political prisoner in his homeland, released only with another dangerous US mission. He is to deliver a pornographic monkey to Mikhael Pence, as a peace/piece offering.

When this fails, Borat plans to give Pence, Trump, or any of the Epstein followers his young teenage daughter. Yikes.

No one is spared the spot-on nasty barbs. If you like your political cruelty nothing short of Chaplin’s Great Dictator, you may have some kind of reincarnation in Barron Cohen (who shares a name with Trump’s son, about all they have in common).

The world will long note the zingers that never miss.

If you suffer from a syndrome known as “bad taste,” this is your movie. Borat lampoons all American life ruthlessly, and goes through a list of men to offer his daughter (all McDonald Trump aides are in jail or under arrest). This leaves him with Rudi Giuliani—and that leaves us with the biggest political shocker of many years of political humor.

We cannot think of a more worthy political target.

What exactly is faked in this movie?  You likely have to watch it for yourself to make a hard decision on the corrupt nature of Trump’s associates.

This is a whack job movie, and defies good taste, political boundaries, and critical assessment.

RELEASE THE KRAKEN!

Colossal or Giant Squid

DATELINE: Deep Sea Denizen

How can anyone ever forget the great Lord Laurence Olivier playing Zeus in Clash of the Titans?  In one hilarious moment, he yelled out, as only he could, “Release the kraken!”

Good heavens, now decades later, Monsterquest  has indeed released the Kraken, a legendary god of the Deep Blue Sea. We have been accused often of being Kraken in Der Head. Now we have Kraken on the brain.

If you like your fishy monsters with a pedigree, the Kraken is your sea creature. Alas, Monsterquest  is after the Humboldt Squid: still a voracious, muscular, omonster of the deep. Never seen, but theorized to be a hundred feet in length, they have populated Jules Verne novels, but have remained science fiction mostly.

Now, there will be an attempt to prove they live in the depths and never surface. They will eat anything, including you.

This latest episode is an update of a 2006 show that captured a giant squid on camera for the first time. The 2019 version featured Scott Cassell, the same expert, whose blonde hair is now snowy white. The cute researchers are now long in the tooth, and the latest Monsterquest team is basically a new batch of thrill-seekers.

What else can you say about guys who don’t mind being attacked by angry squid. One complains, there must be an easier way to make a living—but they’d never go for it.

There is, he contends, as many giant and colossal squid (the 100 feet long ones) as there are people on earth, but they are so deep in the oceans they are never seen.

If anything comes out of this show, it is the idea that 1000 years ago these things were called Kraken—and they are highly intelligent and observant!  That may be enough to say, leave them alone.

 

 

Tom Brady, NFL, Want Sexist Idiocy to Prevail

For Love of Money

DATELINE: Return of KooKoo Bird Antonio Brown

Your NFL might be game spoilers, but they are contemptuous of society’s rules of good faith and good manners. Yes, they have shown their hypocrisy again by caving in to the whims of Tom Brady, that traitor slug whose personal looks are as fake as his so called family values.

Now a pirate-headed shot-caller in Trumpabay, Tom left leftist New England for the land of no income tax: Florida. Like the true Trumpist he is, he has no sense of shame when it comes to his racism.

It’s not America that Tom wants Great. It’s himself.

He has befriended mental case Antonio Brown, not for altruistic reasons, but for good old-fashioned plain greedy reasons. He wants to prove what a great quarterback he is—and he is calling for the talent he wants, even if the rest of the world is horrified.

Antonio Brown is a walking text book for sexism, misogyny and rape. So, family man Tom Brady wants him as his receiver. He even let this nutcase live in his house for a few weeks in New England. Wife and kids be damned.

The Patriots and sex toy Robert Kraft (even Belichick the Cheat, could not abide Antonio Brown and released him.

Now Tom’s hissy-fit antics in Tampa have caused HC Bruce Ariens to go against his political instincts and become the new Bruce Aryans. Yes, he will do whatever fascist Tom Brady requests. He too wants to win.

The NFL is like that: money over integrity, bull-headed control over common sense, racism and sexism over logic and science. It’s Trump’s guys gone wild.

We can only hope that Brown will not deliver the packages and Brady will be a Tampa Dud. However, we expect our Proud Boys will line up behind Tom Brady. It’s a year of pandemic gold.

 

 

 

 

 

Broken Noses, Unbroken Style

DATELINE: Weber’s Boys

Bruce Weber, as a film-maker and fashionista, made a career of studying masculinity in all its forms. He started with a young boxing coach named Andy Minsker and his latest is a bio-doc about Robert Mitchum.

In between during his long career, Weber has run into the wall of many from his generation: the values and relationships with male models he created in the beginning have not held up to today’s more overly sensitive accusers.

Yes, Bruce Weber has suffered charges of sexual harassment from a dozen or more men who might have let it slide years ago. Today, money-struck and fame-driven revenge pulls these guys into a world of accusations, both dubious and false.

In Weber’s first movie, Broken Noses,he took on a lookalike to jazz beauty Chet Baker. This young man, born in 1982, had been a teenage boxing champ—and coached other adolescents in how to box.

Today with horrors over concussions and other masculine pursuits deemed too violent, that world of homoerotic attraction is far more dangerous for other reasons, like being a Boy Scout leader.

Minsker was adorable, charming, and could likely win followers with his easy-going personality. His image on T-shirts from youth still may bring him fame. Weber made him into a book of photos—and relentless celebrity.

The film in black and white from 1987 is hypnotic and staggering to think it could never be made today. Even back then, the Olympic people warned boys to avoid Weber. Andy Minsker was utterly intrigued by the alarms and pursued Weber.

Interestingly, Weber next went on to do a film  Let’s Get Lost  on Chet Baker right before the jazz great met a hideous end.

As for Broken Noses,you might see more than the surface and inclinations in that regard are like reading Tarot cards. You may see something insightful, or you may just go off the deep end.

These young adolescents were part of a norm for the 1980s, and they were the last of a breed. Soon political correctness and re-defined masculine codes would end this world of seductive youth.

Weber’s career has its notoriety and its sublime beauty, and to see Broken Noses thirty years later is like looking at an extinct animal in the wild.

You may fall out of the orbit of Weber’s men and boys, but you cannot deny his sociological and psychological truisms.

What’s Bugging Voters Most?

Just for Men!

Great moments in American politics are hard to find nowadays with Proud Boys mixing it up with kidnappers at Trump rallies.  However, the fly on Pence may last for generations of politics as fallout.

Your hair spray will do you in eventually.

If Pence had only used Just for Men in a dark shade, you would have found the bug blend into the follicles.

Pence has lost the chance to use the slogan, “No Flies on Me!”

Kamala Harris is now viral, singing a remix of sorts about the Fly. And, this one does not star Vincent Price.

Biden’s campaign is now locked into swatting away at $10 a pop their own little weapon against flies.

No one will ever again tell Mike Pence to zip up his fly.

Proud boys may soon become a version of fly boys.

You have to say the debate gave off a stink that attracted the star of Amityville and the progenitor of Maggotworld.

Why did the fly stay on the side of Pence? Did those plastic barriers prove to be insurmountable?

Two minutes for a fly is half a lifetime. Yet, that bug stayed still for a long bout of cootie watching. Something in Pence’s hair smelled good, tasted good, or looked good.

But flies are never a good look on national TV. This year, 2020, has not only proved hindsight is blind, but that Raid is now your best choice for hair control.

Lost Lincoln Deathbed Photo

Partial Image.

Discovery Channel offered one of the most intriguing documentaries of the past few years: someone has located or revealed a photo of Abe Lincoln taken shortly after he died on the bed at the house across from Ford’s Theatre.

The photo is so creepy and weird looking that you may be unconvinced until the lead researcher, Dr. Whitny Braun brings in her big guns:  a battery of PhDs and MDs to take us through the investigation.

Yes, she can trace it to the family of Lincoln’s mother in Illinois. It was given to them by a man who had charge of Lincoln’s body for several hours. He apparently allowed the Ulke brothers, professional photographers, to secretly enter the room and take the picture, which is an ambrotype glass plate in a little frame.

They knew Lincoln and lived in the building. It was against the War Secretary’s orders to take photos of Lincoln in death, though many people did this in the 19thcentury.

The brothers had another picture of the bloody bed, empty, that was hidden until the 1960s. This new one is now locked in a bank vault as a legal fight continues over who owns it.

It could be worth millions, as it is the 130thphoto of Lincoln.

The medical explanations for his looks are stunning, as his hands are clenched. It was not a peaceful death as the legend reports. The man suffered with a lead bullet in his brain stem for eight hours. Today they could have saved him, but back then he was doomed.

If you have a sense of the ghoulish and grisly, you will be utterly fascinated by this investigation. The picture is coyly hidden for almost an hour of the documentary—and to see it is shocking.

This is history in a morbid vein. Your choice. We will only show part of the photo out of respect.

And Leave the Driving to Hitch….

DATELINE:  Hitchcock’s Breakdown

 Trapped in his car!

“Breakdown” brought Joseph Cotten back together with his old friend Alfred Hitchcock for a half-hour television episode that would send chills down the spine of anyone thinking of driving down to Florida alone. It was supposed to be the first episode of the new TV series Alfred Hitchcock Presents…but was held back.

Once again, Hitchcock played with his words. His breakdown could be a fancy sports car in disrepair, or a man in mental exhaustion. In the case of the show, it could be a word for all seasons.

A ruthless business tycoon (Cotten) fires people over the telephone without remorse and is shocked when one accountant begins to cry piteously. Contempt is his best reaction, finding such weakness to be beneath his attention.

Yet, when a bulldozer working with a chain gang hits his car, he is left paralyzed behind the wheel, looking to the world like a dead man. The steering wheel has crushed his chest, or so concludes every witness.

Not one takes his pulse, so convinced are they of his demise. Thus begins his voice-over thoughts as he is robbed, stripped, has his identity taken, but is able to tap his finger to alert the world of his living carcass.

It is to no avail as the shroud is put over him, and he is left in a morgue. Hitchcock pulled out all the stops of fear on this one—from dying, from being buried alive, to fear of loneliness in its ultimate form.

Augurs and omens dominate the first few moments, perhaps giving a clue or two about the fate and character of Cotton’s heartless protagonist.

Cotten must act without benefit of any movement, tic, or facial acknowledgement. He is up to the task, a monumental endeavor for an actor to act dead for a half-hour TV show.