Belichick’s Holiday TV Special Again This Year!

DATELINE:  God Bless Those Steelers Too

merry

Back like the Macy Parade or Peewee Herman for another holiday special, Bill Belichick will host the grandest Xmas party on the streaming web, as in previous jolly seasons.

Unfortunately, only those with access to the DarkNet will be able to download this journey to the dark-side of Christmas in Pittsburgh.

Past holiday specials have been about as much fun as watching Marley’s Ghost drag his chains.

However, Belichick’s Army of Zombie Fans cannot get enough of the best coach in the history of football singing his favorite Xmas carols, including “God Rest Ye Merry Steelers,”  and “Juggled Balls” with Gronk and Cooks.

This year will be even more special than his many past holiday treats.

Tom Brady will be on board for a stocking-stuffer not to be missed. He is expected to reveal that, as he grows younger every day, he has a portrait of Belichick in his attic that grows more sour-looking and ugly with age. You will enjoy it when he presents Belichick with a gift of a “Sock Slider,” for oldsters who need help putting on their shoes.

And you thought that was happening every game on the sidelines!

Another highlight of this year’s holiday show will be when Gronk puts Coach Belichick on his back and they run around the endzone, doing a turkey trot to celebrate the winning touchdown.

It has been a long hard audition this season to find whether the elves, Amendola and Edelman, will double as Tiny Tim. Giving them a hard run for the job is Matthew Slater who has been practicing his “God bless us everyone” ad nauseum.

Another annual moment of levity shall be when owner Mr. Robert Kraft opens his gifts to discover a lifetime supply of dress shirts with different color collars to go with his only white blouse. Some think Roger Goodell will re-gift Kraft with a draft pick.

Guest appearances by Roger Goodell and Jerry Jones are expected as players will try to dunk them into a big watertank by tossing footballs at them from a kneeling position.

President Trump will lie about producing the show and tweet that he was going to be extra special guest of the year, but turned them down. He will then fire Tom Brady.

Marshawn Lynch is expected to spoil the big holiday eggnog when he does a Mexican hat-dance with Belichick, and it brings a thunderstorm over Mexico City.

NFL Network, Roku, Apple TV, and Brit Box are clamoring for exclusive rights to show this annual extravaganza of joy and end-zone celebrations.

Don’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime, annual tradition (again).

 

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Hardy Boys 2: Ghost Farm Mystery, 1957

DATELINE:  Disney Fails Second Time Around

still wonderful

Tim Considine & Tommy Kirk epitomize sibling rivalry.

In 1957 Disney decided to do a second series of Hardy Boys episodes. With two extremely popular young stars lighting up the big screen (Tommy Kirk and Tim Considine would be in the Absent-Minded Professor, The Shaggy Dog, Old Yeller, Swiss Family Robinson, etc.), the two young stars signed on for another mystery.

They were growing more adolescent (and admitted it in a prologue that was a long preview of the upcoming shows), but that only made them more appealing to young fans. The second series would be called The Mystery of Ghost Farm.  Don’t look for it among the 60 or so stories of the canon of Hardy Boys books because it isn’t there.

Disney was growing as much as its stars—and now they found their own formula for stories was better controlled by something original. As a consequence, the second series borders on the overly cute use of standard Disney tricks (like irksome farm animals) and a completely non-scary ghost.

The boys were catnip to young girls—and Considine was allowed to be the Romeo (even accused of being as much by Kirk as his younger, jealous brother). They even wrestle on the ground after Frank calls Joe “stupid,” once too often.

Disney also brought back a couple of actors from the first year. Florenz Ames, aka crazy old Applegate, returned for a small part as an advisor to the young detectives. They also brought in Andy Clyde as another crazy old man. Sarah Shelby as Auntie Gertrude had a larger role this time around, as did Carol Ann Campbell as Iola, Joe Hardy’s female nemesis (never girlfriend), much to Joe Hardy’s dismay. Russ Conway as the boys’ father found his role much diminished.

The second show had to be the last because the stars were moving on to the bigger careers. Tommy Kirk was especially going big, whereas Considine was settling into a steady hit TV show (My Three Sons and later wound up being slapped silly by George C. Scott in Patton).

The series also went short and cheap on episodes, down to 13, as if the boys had only limited time to film the new season with so many projects beckoning them elsewhere. The writing is slipshod and the mystery is moribund, as if this production couldn’t be done fast enough.

Yet, we are lucky to have them again as perfectly matched brothers, no matter that the story and mystery are less compelling the second time around.

Private Files of J. Edgar Hoover

DATELINE: 1977 A-I Grand Production

 

Broderick Crawford Crawford as Hoover

If Director Hoover were still running the FBI, you know the shenanigans at the White House and during the Trump campaign would be dead in their tracks.

The Private Files of J.Edgar Hoover, 1977’s film by Larry Cohen is still surprisingly relevant today: from Hoover’s dealings with immigrants, terrorists, and campaign laundering of money. You might be amused to hear that Hoover was on the side of right, according to this marvelous little film. In many ways it is more amusing than Eastwood’s version.

Young Hoover is played by James Wainwright—and his best friend is his mother, actress June Havoc in a cameo. The best of the stunning cast includes Jose Ferrer as a dubious underling to Hoover. However, the G-Man couple of the century, Hoover and Clyde Tolson, are played by Broderick Crawford and Dan Dailey, no strangers to whispers and innuendos themselves.

Hoover must deal with Franklin Roosevelt (Howard da Silva) and Bobby Kennedy (Michael Parks).  AG Kennedy especially tried to drive Hoover to retirement with great disrespect, but Hoover was a wily old fox. He handled Kennedy and seemed ready to blackmail Martin Luther King (Raymond St. Jacques).

If you like hooting through a movie, this old American International flick has gunfights with Dillinger and mobsters, and TWA hijackers.

The rumors that Tolson and Hoover were a romantic couple is among the highlights of the film, hinting they might have been brave pioneers in gay rights, no less. However, there is no scene of Edgar in a dress.  Sorry.  All this is secondary to a grandiose performance by the never-shy Broderick Crawford as the Top Cop (never saying 10-4) and his aide-de-camp Dan Dailey.

His secret files kept many people in their place. He had dirt on everyone over 50 years and managed to convince Lyndon Johnson (Andrew Duggan) to extend the retirement age to accommodate the FBI oldster.

More salacious info would come out after the making of this film, but this semi-forgotten movie will do as a bang-up tribute to Edgar.

 

New Book of Movie & TV Reviews

 “A compendium of enormous balderdash and overwrought and underthought insights!”

Mal Tempo, Long Time Ago book consultant

                                                    kindleredcarpet

If you enjoy Ossurworld’s movie and television reviews, with their unique and odd insights into what’s really happening in your favorite movies, then you are in luck! 

Red Carpet Tickets: Movie & TV Reviews collects the best of the blog reports in one place for easy access and reading.

The books is available for smarter readers, both in e-book and print formats, from Amazon.

If you want the perfect time-killer, Red Carpet Tickets is your ticket to ride. 

Ossurworld’s blogs on movies (& TV streams) select only films that you can and should devote time to watching. Bad films are rarely considered for examination. Bloated budgets, ridiculous acting, and skimpy budgets, will not hurt a film’s chances if something intelligent is presented. Ossurworld will let you know.

You can find Ossurworld’s new book online by simply clicking on this blue highlight!

Red Carpet Tickets: Movie & TV Reviews.  (This blog is a self-serving, commercial, and otherwise blatant attempt to win your appreciation of our mini-labors of Hercules.)

Gronk & Turkey in the Straw

DATELINE: Too Many Cooks

 photo by Matt Stonephoto by Matt Stone

As rare as a 1916 Mercury-D dime, the Patriots had an impromptu TD celebration.  And, the star of the show was the only man who would dare to stand up to Head Coach Bill Belichick:  no, not Tom Brady.

It was the inimitable Gronk. He usually spikes the ball with great elan. We have been in awe of the fact that for his entire career, he is the only Patriot with the chutzpah to commit such an act within the view of the Scrooge-like coach.

The NFL has now allowed hare-brained celebrations in the endzone after scoring. We have seen leap frog played. We have seen Oddsmell Beckham doing his dog duty impression. However, no Patriot dared to speak the love of celebration.

We must call attention to the Turkey Trot of Brandin Cooks, who jumped on Gronk’s back and rode the Big Pony back to the sidelines in celebration. We swear that Cooks has a 26-inch waist and weighs less than 185 pounds. For Gronk it was like picking up one of those Victoria Secret models for a magazine cover.

You may have missed Gronk being ridden like Seabiscuit by Brandin Cooks, but Bill Belichick emerged like Godzilla from the depths to spit fire over this so-called celebration.

Since Brady never made him those biscuits for Thanksgiving, Gronk gave us his own version of The Original Biscuit Eater.

Alas, after the game Gronk was not allowed to talk about his venture into the realm of happy feet.  In fact, he admitted that the man who won’t allow office parties at Xmas with x’s and o’s, yelled at Gronk for his display

Don’t expect Gronk to join in any reindeer games this season. He won’t even be allowed to give thanks for a touchdown.

Not only was his nose red after the celebration, but his entire face was red. All the better to see inside the dark and gloomy dog house that Coach Belichick built for such players who go about with a Merry TD on their lips.

If Belichick had his way, such players would be buried in the endzone like Jimmy Hoffa, in cement overshoes up to his eyeballs.

So, the Turkey Trot of Gronk was not cooked up by Cooks in the backroom of the holiday luncheonette. It was spontaneous, but nevertheless, it was verboten.

Oak Island: Curtains to Curses

DATELINE:  Weekly Update #3

Rick lagina

Time for Just for Men?

As season five progresses, the series Curse of Oak Island seems in jeopardy.

From the off-season storms that decimated roads and other parts of the island, to the tragic death of the 17-year old son of Craig Tester we have had already sufficient warnings and dire omens.

The latest episode begins optimistically enough with the discovery of coins from the 1600s in a pile of dirt uncovered 60 years ago and never searched with a metal detector. We almost feel that the show will conclude successfully this season.

However, the good news became muted when the Canadian government sent a “cease and desist” letter to the Lagina operation, claiming they were vandalizing cultural artifacts after five years of digging.

After 400 years of hunters and hiders tunneling and bulldozing, and ravaging the little Nova Scotian island, this johnny-come-lately interference from some nitwit cultural ministry of do-gooders seems a day late and a dollar short.

In order to assuage the governmental cretins, the Lagina brothers agreed to hiring an archeologist to oversee their work. He promptly stops their digging when they overturn tree stumps and find indications of an old settlement.

We thought the troglodytes of do-good deeds only hid in the bowels of the US government, but the virus has spread to Canada’s guts for real adventure.

Rick Lagina seems crest-fallen. He might have to take that job with Just for Men for Beards. His jet-black hair mismatches his white beard—and he could make a fortune coloring both for an endorsement contract. He can draw on a big gay market, based on the number of people who ask us to find out if he’s gay.

Our other solution is far simpler. We suggest that Rick Lagina sacrifice himself by jumping head first into the Money Pit. This will end the curse instantly by giving the Island its seventh victim and reveal the treasure instantly—in our humble opinion.

 

 

James Baldwin: Nobody’s Negro

DATELINE:  A World Unchanged in 40 Years

 

James Baldwin.jpeg

I Am Not Your Negro is a striking documentary, based on an unfinished manuscript author James Baldwin was writing about Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, and Medgar Evers, all his friends who were murdered. Yes, he was bitter.

Baldwin never finished his book, but the documentary gives its due to the lives of these men and Lorraine Hansberry too, a tragic loss of a black author to cancer.

Baldwin was articulate, passionate, sensitive, and gentle. That the FBI designated him as dangerous may be more indicative of the racism of the era. He interacted with the most famous and infamous of the black movement of the 1960s, though he was on the periphery of politics.

His insights into what ails America stands as true today as it did when he was dismissed as too radical 40 years ago. He saw America through its movie-history lens—and found that white people (whom he liked and admired) were basically morally apathetic, which was a step away from being a moral monster.

The film’s voice is Samuel L. Jackson, reading Baldwin’s words, but there is also a stunning collection of rare historical TV clips. You see Baldwin on a panel with Marlon Brando, Joseph Mankiewicz, Charlton Heston, Harry Belafonte, and Sidney Poitier, discussing black rights. Amazing stuff.

How much would Baldwin be shocked by the insignificant changes in society since his early death in 1979? He scoffed at the notion of a black president, predicted by Robert Kennedy in 1965, in the dim future of 40 years, as being an insult.

Baldwin wanted white America to face its own black people whom he felt they never truly saw: even today, one study proved that racism lives in wedding photos. The number of white brides who had black people in their wedding party was miniscule.

We think James Baldwin would have snickered at such results, then cried.

Fill in the Blanks for “P***y”

 DATELINE:  Vocabulary Lesson for Jerry Jones & Media

3some

This week Jerry Jones has tested our ability to play both Scrabble and do crossword puzzles. The owner of the Dallas Cowboys, mired deeply in a feud with Roger Goodell, reportedly called fellow owner Robert Kraft a mysterious name in regard to the Patriots owner’s inability to stand up to Goodell on Deflategate.

The media has given us a maddening clue by leaving out key letters of the word.

The media has also plastered the word over the airwaves, cable wires, and water-cooler discussions for men who live dangerously around women nowadays.  For those who are fans of President Trump, the word may ring familiar, as he used the epithet (if that’s what it is) during his campaign against women.

In case you are wondering what the cryptic word is, we have gone to our cryptologist’s handbook to discern “P—y.”

In some more colorful stories the spelling is “p***y.”  We always opt for the asterisk over the hyphen as part of our training as a literary critic.

We didn’t have to run to our crossword puzzle dictionary for the Sunday New York Times to be able to figure out what Jerry Jones and President Trump have said.  The options are clear.

It is likely that Mr. Jones called Kraft “pasty.” This is ironical, if only because Jones is even more sun-deprived than Kraft, playing as it were mostly indoors at his stadium. We think Kraft is fairly pasty on his own too.

Another option is “puffy.”  We have heard Sean Combs has discarded this sobriquet lately—and it is available to be put on Kraft who takes a paternal interest in his players, hence “Puffy Daddy.”

However, we realize soon enough that the best likelihood is another word: “Putty.”  Yes, Kraft was putty in the hands of Goodell, and is pliable to the whims of the fans.

You say tomato, and we say “tomahto.” You say “P***y” and we say, “Putty.”  Let’s call the whole thing off before our vocabulary descends into the tone-deaf style of NFL fans in general.

Down with Men

 DATELINE:  All Men are Dogs

ALF

Just today we heard that Senator Al Franken and Sylvester Stallone have joined the sexual assault parade. There isn’t a man to be trusted.

In regard to Man, that generic sexist pig, for years we used to say, “Don’t shoot all the dogs just because one has fleas.”

We now admit that we were wrong. It’s time to shoot all the dogs. They cannot be trusted around women. They cannot be trusted in any kind of polite society. Straight men are Deplorables. Even Trump is one of them.

They should be isolated like some virulent pestilence. Clearly it is time for Amazon society. We don’t mean the buying Internet giant. We mean a society of women without men.

Why, heavens to Betsy, gay men cannot even be trusted around other men. The last month or two has proven the point. Men are dogs. They should be kept in kennels, if not euthanized.

It’s the only way to keep women safe. Even if we put them in prisons, we know they’ll go to their own kind. They are like cannibals. They have voracious sexual appetites.

So sorry to say, women will be better off with women in all leadership positions. Women should have all control over everything related to men. Then, only women will assault other women.

The grand experiment of male domination has now proven to be a complete and utter failure.

Why hang on to the old way? Out with the ganders and in with the geese. Out with the buck and in with the doe.

Castrate the dogs and let the mangy Curs keep to themselves in dog pounds.

Best and Worst in Boston Sports History!

DATELINE:  Great Rivalry about to be Born

                         Jayson  Curry

                                                    Jayson Tatum & Steph Curry

Are we talking a new major rivalry? Boston and New England has had its fair share of giants in sports history. We have seen loyal opposition, and red coats.

In Boston, some fans believe it is happening again.

We are looking at something special on the famous Garden parquet floor under the green banners.

We can remember Bird & Magic. We know about Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio. Recently there was Tom Brady and Peyton Manning. Some oldsters even remember Bobby Orr & Brad Park. How can we forget Thurman Munson and Carlton Fisk?

We aren’t sure if David wore a Boston jersey when he took on Goliath on the Boston Common.

Yes, Yankees and Red Sox. Lakers and Celtics. Patriots and Broncos. Bruins and Rangers.

Tonight, we add Golden State Warriors and Boston Celtics for this generation. We hope Steph Curry and Kyrie Irving can elevate us to sports Nirvana, even if Kyrie looks like the Masked Marvel for this game.

No doubt about it, the thought of a new Boston rivalry makes us giddy.

Throw in Kevin Durant, the man who didn’t like Green shorts. Throw in Jason Tatum, a phenom teenager who is the new Larry Bird.

We cannot emphasize that hyperbole is an understatement in anticipation of this benchmark game in legendary lore.

Yes, Charles Dickens said it best: it was the best of times; it was the worst of times. We had Trump; we had Brady. We had black lives mattering; we had white supremacist dolts. The times are a mess.

We pray that the worst of times will transform this sports moment into the best of times during one little basketball game, Golden State Warriors versus the Boston Celtics. Yummy.

 

 

Danny & Julian Go Global with Their Song & Dance

DATELINE: Bubbling Juices

Road to OblivionLike Watching Home Movies of Your Cousins

Notable YouTube videographer Julian Edelman was at it on the NFL Network this time.

During the summer, the NFL and Patriots decided to send two Abbott & Costello-style players to Mexico to pave the way for this week’s big international game South of the Border.

Who might better represent insanity in sports than Julian Edelman and his partner in crime Danny Amendola?

One of them might be sufficient, but two is a handful. It was like watching the reincarnation of Hope and Crosby on the Road to Oblivion.

As would-be media stars and Internet splashers, the twin Patriots chose to direct a short film of their experiences. Alas, for Julie, an injury in preseason has knocked him out for the year. Yet, he was the right man for the job of public relations in Mexico with his other slotty receiver/Zoolander model wannabe.

A giant crowd greeted them like conquistadors, and Julian noted he felt like a Beatle.

They bickered about what to include in their four-day sojourn on NFL Network’s home movie—and decided on failed pranks on each other, a bout with professional wrestlers, visiting restaurants and eating crickets, as well as taking a balloon ride over the City of the Gods, ruins of pyramids.

Perhaps the greatest wonder is that Edelman managed to finish the entire film without once mentioning Tom Brady.

He and his comic partner, often referred to as Nofundola, seemed to have more fun than a honeymoon couple deserves. Julian even sings while Danny strums on the guitar.

In one episode, Edelman was reluctant to enter a lion’s den with Amendola and would have preferred, he said, to pet a GOAT—was that a sly reference to Tom?  Amendola dominated his matchmate and has his bucket list fulfilled.

At one point Julian noted his “juices were bubbling” in a wrestling match with Danny.

At another event, they seemed about to crash their mile-high balloon, and Julian was a tad uncomfortable that the hot air had no control. They also raced up the stairs of ancient pyramids where people had their hearts cut out, oblivious to history.

The best moment came when Danny ate a cricket appetizer and notes its good taste, but Julian looked like he would like to spit it out, but the camera was rolling.

Dangerous & Repressive Pakistan

DATELINE:  Gay as a Misnomer

Mawaan

Charming, affable, and entertaining Mawaan is a British citizen of Pakistani descent who decides to go back to his native land to see what it would be like to live there as a gay man. The documentary is chilling.

Twenty years ago, a Pakistani student told us that there was no gay life in Pakistan. If the religious fanatics learned of your sexuality, they would come in the night to murder you. End of story. No one would care.

Now years later, Mawaan’s visit basically discovers not much has changed. The British performer bravely takes in two of the biggest cities on his research: Lahore and Karachi where gay people live in abject terror that they could be discovered and stoned to death, blown up, or simply brutalized.

Mawaan spent two weeks there—and probably learned more than he cared to know. In the rural areas where he did not go, the worst extremists may reside and terrorize anyone with sexual behavior that diverts from traditional culture.

When Mawaan visits an imam, who is learned and civilized, he visibly flinches at the revelation that the young visitor is gay. His best advice is to leave the country, not an option for most gay Pakistanis.

Indeed, gay life exists, as it has for centuries, in secret. The designation MSM (Men Sleeping with Men) actually accounts for many because poor men cannot afford prostitutes and Muslim women are above sexuality. They end up sleeping with each other.

It is not a pretty picture with secret chambers in the darkest ghettos where such life takes place.

Gay parties are held in secret—and HIV health centers exist in fear that someone could throw a bomb at them at any time. We remained in awe at the courage of Mawaan to visit places in the most dangerous cities in the world.

This little documentary provides  extraordinary insight into repression and cruelty that still spawns hope in so many desperate people. Mawan is to be commended for uncovering the truth and showing the world the harsh life of gay people in Pakistan.

 

Kevin Spacey Pilloried: Trial by Social Media

DATELINE:  Accusations

Darrow Spacey

We must be in a new era of McCarthyism, Toto.

We are not fans of the Kevin Spacey Netflix series House of Cards, believing from the beginning that the British version was superior.

However, we are a little distressed at the latest trend. Netflix has suspended the Spacey series because of one young man’s allegation that Spacey accosted him over a decade ago. It seems like punishing everyone associated with the well-known actor.

Not even Clarence Darrow could likely spin Spacey out of this mess.

Corey Feldman seems to be doing something similar, collecting money based on his alleged victimization. Feldman is raising a public hue and cry about sexual predators—and asking for $10 million to fund his docudrama and personal life.

Who knows what the truth is? Is Feldman shaking down the goodwill of fans? Is Spacey’s accuser looking for free publicity?

We used to think we were in a country where you were innocent until proven guilty.  Court rooms and evidence are no longer required. Perhaps the US of A was never that country of ideals.

If a charge is made against you, you are immediately guilty, and castigated in social media. You can muster no defense; you can bring no supporting evidence. And in a situation where it’s your word against accuser, you’re dead dead dead.

Even if the accusation is recanted or disapproved, the taint will remain. There is no deodorant for being labelled a child molester.

We have no idea of whether Kevin Spacey committed an attack or seduction on a 14-year-old boy long ago. It seems strange to wait 14 years to complain about it. Perhaps it’s true Spacey cannot recall such an event—especially if it never happened, or is lost in an alcoholic haze.

However, there are benefits for the victim. Now the recipient receives great sympathy from a community looking for victims to support; he probably will be offered a bunch of roles and recognition in his acting field for bravery.

On the other hand, Kevin Spacey’s career may be in shambles. Having his hit series canceled or suspended is not a good sign of the future.

But times have changed. You will be judged today on yesterday’s actions by today’s standards. It doesn’t matter whether you’re Kevin Spacey charged with pedophilia or Robert E. Lee on a charger on a pedestal.

My Cousin Rachel: What’s Your Poison?

DATELINE: Updates & Remakes

 Claflinor Burton original

Novelist Daphne Du Maurier has been both blessed and condemned by being associated forever with Alfred Hitchcock. He made both their names synonymous with mysterious melodrama after the mesmerizing Rebecca came out in 1941.

Ten years later Olivia De Havilland and Richard Burton made My Cousin Rachel with George Cukor, but he quit the film in pre-production after both he and Miss Du Maurier criticized the script. The film was successful nonetheless with director Henry Koster.

So, we come to 2017 when director Roger Michell makes a stab at re-doing the lush period piece with its conflicting and misunderstood characters, Rachel and Philip. The film is beautiful to look at and raises more complexity in the relationships of the characters.

In a nutshell Rachel has married Philip’s cousin and adoptive father Ambrose in Italy. There, Ambrose sends his young ward letters indicating his new wife is poisoning him. According to authorities, Ambrose had a brain tumor that made him paranoid.

However, Philip is not so sure: perhaps he too is a bit paranoid, suspecting Rachel of being a master manipulator of exotic poison. Perhaps she is also plotting to poison him too.

Wonderful and swaggering, Sam Claflin as Philip is no Richard Burton. It is unfair to expect him to be, and Rachel Weisz seems a tad too young for the dangerous older woman. Yet, they convey more subtlety than you might expect.

There are hints and foreshadows everywhere that Philip was more than a ward to Ambrose, and he is inexperienced with women, adding to his possible misconstruing of Rachel’s personality. He also seems to have inherited his “cousin’s” paranoia, perhaps caused by a brain tumor.

The film has occasional lapses of moral rectitude of the era of English country life with Rachel and Philip bursting into each other’s bedrooms in violation of social norms of the period. That aside, this is a sumptuous film that has double-edged suspicions on both sides of Philip and Rachel.

We must laud any film of diligence and intelligence in this day of cartoonish, noise-filled superheroes. We hope today’s audiences can understand subtext while watching this film.

High Cost of Men Accosting Women

DATELINE:  Naked Oscar in Gilt

oscar

In Hollywood, it is growing abundantly obvious that the only men who haven’t groped women are gay. That lets out repulsive men like Harvey Weinstein. What women would have gone with him willingly? He’s a toad—and clearly heterosexual.

We hesitate to ask if gay Hollywood icons have groped other men. We’ll have to ask Tab next time we see him. So far, we haven’t heard any charges—but since Hollywood is a place where copycats rule, you can expect the gay rapists to be fingered before Xmas.

You may expect a new sense of revisionist history: condemnation of formerly critically successful movies will be on the agenda because the participants and producers were sexist swine. Cue the recall of Oscar—a naked man in gold gilt.

In the meantime, we are hearing that Oliver Stone, Ben Affleck (but not Matt Damon), and sundry other men have proven their heterosexuality by accosting actresses. It must be a rite of spring.

Men, not accused of molesting women, will now be outed as disinterested parties (clubs where men dance only with other men).

Of course, at the time, usually in the distant 1990s, actresses expected to remain silent in the face of these kind of onslaughts. So, it is only 20 years later that a spate of rape charges is coming forth. We aren’t sure whether the statute of limitations has passed on some of these cold cases. We also wonder if an accusation is deadlier than actually finding someone is guilty.

Women are now boycotting Twitter because it is part of the male-dominated system. Apparently, these same women have missed the boat that Twitter also has favored the Russians over Hilary Clinton.

Since women are nowadays the primary readers in our society, writers like Hemingway are likely to be dunned more than ever. Expect a cadre of writers to come charging out of the closet soon.

If we start making judgments based on the thrilling days of yesteryear, no one will be safe. Twenty or thirty years ago was a different world, even if it pretended to be the Golden Age of Enlightenment.

If women are prepared to press the issue of male malfeasance, you can bet your bottom dollar and top drawer that these guys will go into rehab, aka “therapy,” which is certainly a way out of the dark and deep woods of the groped past.

As for us, we have always viewed light in the loafers as a standard defense.