NDA Day in NFL!

DATELINE: Brown’s Grade, AB Positive

sample! Not for Player Use!

Quiet!  Shhhhh!  The big secret of the NFL is the notorious nondisclosure agreement, aka NDA. You may remember that little bitty from Donald Trump crying about Stormy sex crimes. Your Non-disclosure agreement puts you in the high chair.

if you molest someone by grabbing genitals, you simply pay the victim a large sum of money to keep his or her mouth shut with a small stocking stuffer. NDAs are the ways to go.

That’s how you play footsie with a wide receiver.

Grabbing genitals is congenital in the NFL. But an NDA saves the day!

If you cry havoc, cry rape or cry wolf, you may have an x-rated Xmas while the gridiron is hot!

Short of murdering people on the streets of Boston in the manner of Aaron Hernandez, you could probably get away with quite a few garden-variety crimes with a few golden nuggets in your pocket party.

Don’t be stopped at a red-light zone by police for soliciting sex at a massage parlor!  If you keep the bare rumpus in your home, you can keep the victims quiet by throwing large wads of cash on their bare bodkins.

Your signing bonus is primarily a tool for legal expenses in pro football.

Fear not, rapists or child abusers, there is a kill-fee awaiting at your favorite David Pecker-run tabloid.

We know NFL players are paid beyond normal pay-scale and most have water on the brain, so quantitative quantum finance means loads of non-disclosure agreements. That way the NFL never can hear about what might cause suspension, investigation, or exempt status.

Your next super bowl will be held in the toilet bowl.

 

 

 

 

Time & Again Machine

DATELINE: Wells Novel on Screen Again

 Guy Pearce face-off with hologram enacted by Orlando Jones!

 

Back in 2002, forty years after the original classic George Pal movie, there came a remake of The Time Machine, based on the H.G. Wells classic.

This time the stalwart hero is Guy Pearce, and the story once set in London during the Victorian Age with an American as the time traveler, is now set in New York with an Austrailian as the American scientist. It doesn’t matter much as Guy Pearce is so brilliant, humorous, and always watchable. His rebel scientist eschews hats and wears his long hair greasy. It is quasi-Victorian, but totally Hollywood.

The film’s best moments are its paeon to the earlier film and story. As if to underscore the homage, they have brought Mr. Ed’s Alan Young out of retirement to play a cameo. He was one of the stars of the 1960 version.

Our favorite moment is when Orlando Jones shows up as a hologram at the New York Public Library who can tell us about the earlier movie, the Wells novel, and can even sing a tune from the bad musical version of the same.

The time machine itself is a Rube Goldberg mess that looks worse than the one used in 1960, and one character even calls it a “cappuccino maker.”

The impetus for time travel is, of course, the unfortunate death of our hero’s girlfriend. He goes back to fix the problem but discovers that you might go back a thousand times, but her death will occur every time, however differently.

The interesting travels through time also takes us 802,000 years into the future when the planet has clearly gone through some ice ages and re-growth. It is interesting that the evolving of humans seems minimal. You can blame that lack of insight on Wells, not the movie.

All in all, this old-fashioned and fun movie plays with the subject and our memories of it. It’s hard to believe that it was almost twenty years ago that it escaped our attention.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Uncanny Cats: Not Exactly T.S. Elliot

DATELINE: Cat Got Your Tongue? 

Way back in 1977, on the heels of a career of low budget horror movies, Ray Milland took off his toupee and faced the snarling, pouncing faces of cats. The film was titled The Uncanny, which is hardly catty enough.

Yes, what Alfred Hitchcock did for The Birds, this film wanted to do for your cute and cuddly pussycat. Don’t ask what’s up, pussycat, because writer and scientist Peter Cushing believes that cats are the devil’s messenger—and they have it for him. He has written a book and is trying to sell it to publisher Milland.

Like Erich van Daniken, Cushing’s paranormal writer has tackled the Pyramids, UFOs, and other topical crypto-science subjects—and has turned his attention to a conspiracy of cats. And, his feline nemesis is not a happy camper.

If your idea of fur balls turning evil is good for a laugh, this movie is for you. If you belong to Internet websites that features kitty cats doing funny things, you may be horrified. Well, that is the point of this film.

As for us, we never grab a pussy by the tail—and recommend you don’t either!

The sordid little tales are set in London in 1912, Hollywood in 1936, and in contemporary Montreal. We should tell you that the cold winter of Montreal does not stand in well for Los Angeles.

The cast is downright overblown: Donald Pleasance and Samantha Eggar are in Hollywood, and Simon Williams—fresh off Upstairs/Downstairsas wastrel James Bellamy has a cat moment himself. A few other known faces, like John Vernon, are also in the storyline.

The film did not ruin anyone’s career, having been lost for decades and forgotten by everyone involved. It isn’t HItchock level, and it is of varying brutality and humor, but you seldom find a movie in which cute kitty-cats are filmed like horrid monsters, leaping from balconies to kill.

As a curio, this one is worth peeking at.

 

 

UnXplained Ends Too Soon?

 DATELINE:  Shatner Show Sort of Ends…

 Survivor Mysteries!

For the first batch of the UnXplained series, Shatner hosted a bunch of tales of survival and unusual, perhaps supernatural, abilities that caused people to overcome the worst odds. Now, the most extraordinary of these survival oments came when a commercial interrupted the series, and William Shatner himself promised us that the series is not done, after all, and will return “soon.”

Such a threat actually became a delight.

The series brought its limited run to another intriguing close with an episode that again brought disparate episodes into a kind of cohesive pattern.

We saw a six-year old boy, lost in wilderness, who walked 18 miles overnight to find a road to safety. He felt something was following him: coyotes, or something else. How he chose to make the right turns is something inexplicable all right. But he did it.

One of the hosts ofAncient Aliens recounted his boyhood experience, also unusual, when time stood still and he was able to rescue a 13-year old friend from going over a waterfall to certain death.

Another tale, close to our heart and chilling to our personal experience, related to a Titanic survivor, one of the bakers, whose story is often recounted in movies as an episode that many would call fictionalized. The wonderful scenes are from A Night to Remember!

Yet, the baker who was soused, inebriated, managed to survive in below freezing water for two hours when most others who fell into the Atlantic died, of hypothermia, in ten minutes.How did it happen? Why? No one can explain.

There was the tale of the man whose parachute did not open, and he fell three mile—defying all physical laws to end up with a broken spine (that also miraculously healed) and he was able to walk away from what should have been sure death.

And, one of the other tales told a weird, extra-sensory experience about a British woman, Clare Henry, whose avoidance of a foggy car crash that should have killed her was owed to a casual friend who had recently died in a car crash.

Yes, that friend was Princess Diana who appeared before Clare and directed her to pull off the road before she would have been killed in multi-car pileup.

 

The moments gathered together all featured some rising above physical laws and physics to areas of puzzling survival. There are hints of guardian angels and directive spirits, protective forces, and other dimensions, yet as some of the experts note:  these things have not been studied by science enough to figure out if there are forces in the universe that transcend our world.

 

Yes, we want old bill Shatner’s show to return.

 

 

 

 

 

Dorian to Visit Oak Island

 Trump Can’t Find Nova Scotia on US Map!

DATELINE: Hurricane Dorian On Schedule to Hit Oak Island!

 Expect a special episode of Drilling Down on Oak Island, and additional footage on Curse of Oak Island when the series begins in November.

With all the celebrity visitors to the treasure hunting Lagina brothers, it seems only natural that in their seventh season they become interrupted by an unwanted visitor. A storm is brewing out in the Atlantic, west of Greenland.

Yes, tourism is a big business on the little island, and they are making the most of it with the TV series inspiring a renewed interest in the Nova Scotia properties. It’s just a skip and hop from New England to drive up there.

Property values have never been higher, and with Americans ready to bail out on a crypto-Nazi takeover of the government, you may find that a couple of small islands are paradise. After all, during the American Revolution, the colonists spent time there.

Unlike today’s tourists, Dorian is going by sea. A direct hit. Put two lanterns in Rick Lagina’s steeple. We heard that Trump wants to send a crew to help with any cleanup—because he thinks Nova Scotia is part of Greenland.

Down from his Cat 5 angry self, the hurricane now denuded into a tropical storm will stay out in the North Atlantic, passing over the area where Titanic rests two miles below the ocean, unfazed by the churning waves above, and the storm will lash out at Alex Lagina and Gary Drayton if they haven’t gone back to Michigan looking for gold bricks under the lake.

The Laginas have run out of places to dig by now, and they have tackled draining the swamp, but are keeping their boggy findings to themselves, lest it hurt the ratings. However, if Dorian dumps another five or ten inches of water into the swamp, it may be a hopeless delay resulting in another season of tedious pumping out of the area.

There is a ship down there in the muck, perhaps about as rotten from wood eating bacteria as the Titanic is from metal-eating bacteria.

Of course, gold coins cannot be eaten by bacteria, if ever there were any treasure to begin with. After all, why build an elaborate tunnel system if you’re leaving the treasure in a sunken ship in a swamp?

 

 

Astrology Over Astronomy for Ancient Aliens

DATELINE: Return to Oak Island

   Crossover Taylor!

It’s Labor Day weekend, and Ancient Aliens is about to wrap Season 14 with its 13thepisode on how a “Constellation Code,” may prove that aliens gave secret information to humans through messages in the stars. This also is another misleading episode, differing from  the one advertised for showing all week.

For several weeks Ancient Aliens has engaged in some bait-and-switch tactics when it comes to keeping the contents of the new release private. Again this week, the episode is not what they claimed it would be:  why? The series may be more secretive than the National Security Council of the Trump Administration.

Well, if Ancient Alien theorists are to be believed, our academic intelligentsia is about as dumb as the rocks they cannot turn over. Though many scientists debunk the fortune-telling that comes from reading the stars to predict the future, Ancient Aliens revels in it.

Now, they say the mirror effect that puts star constellations as part petroglyph buildings and monuments is proof that aliens gave early culture a heads up about who they were and where they came from: two places seem to be the most frequently copied on earth as ground-level star maps—and these could be the origins of alien life that seeded earth.

They even trot out Travis Taylor’s visit earlier this year to Oak Island (featuring the Lagina brothers) where he showed how the island is actually a place with key stones aligned that are stars in the heavens. What does it all mean? Why is this evident? He has no idea.

Robert Clotworthy’s voice-over is on familiar ground this week. He almost seems to be doing a promo for the upcoming season of Curse of Oak Island.

Giorgio visits Italy to look at monuments that again seem to indicate constellations in the night sky. The only reason for this, the theorists insist, is to show that ancient people knew their gods were actually space creatures. They even go one step beyond this twilight zone to say 90% of people know their zodiac sign, more proof that the message “we are not alone” is writ big in the sky.

King of the What?

DATELINE: Jesus Express to Penthouse?

 A Wailing Wall!

There was a time in history when it was not a politically smart move to be called The King of the Jews. It could end your career, but Donald Trump is delighted to be given the title by a Jewish supporter: there is no word yet whether this guy is a Pharisee, or just an idiot.

Jesus found the title a little onerous when the governor of a local province took issue with it.

As for Trump, he has no worries that King Herod or his son Herod Antipas (no, not antipasto) will take umbrage. Trump thinks his political opponents are the antipastos.

 Herod, as you may recall from your history, murdered the Innocents, killing newborn babies. Trump merely puts kids in dog cages and denies them flu shots. How many die is yet to be determined.

Herod Antipas was the womanizer who like young girls, like Trump’s dear friend Jeffrey Epstein: you may recall that Antipas asked pre-adolescent Salome to dance without her seven veils—and then gave her the head of Barrack Obama, or someone like that.

So, the latest king of Israel would rather be a kingpin in Greenland where he denies he would build a gaudy skyscraper along the glaciers. He has even cancelled talks with Denmark because Erik the Red wanted Trump towers all over his island; sort of a thousand year old Green Plan.

We thought there was a law against American presidents accepting foreign titles of royalty, but no matter when it comes to Trump: he may not be president much longer if the insanity clause of the 25th Amendment to the Constitution is invoked.

Any Jew who votes Democratic is a traitor to God and Country if you hear the King of Jews in his latest tirade. Bernie Sanders, son of a Jewish immigrant, takes issue with the comment that all Jews who vote against Trump ought to be shot at sunrise by white supremacists.

Jesus denied he was King of the Jews, but Trump is not having any second thoughts. He revels in the notion that he can walk on water and change Greenland’s ice water into gold.

Aliens & Your DNA

DATELINE:  Latest Ancient Aliens Horror!

Nick Redferne Nick Redferne

There’s a whole lot of blood-letting going on in the latest episode of Ancient Aliens on season 14 when it comes to your blood type and those space creatures messing with your genetic code..

Those pesky aliens appear to be planning to create a hybrid race.  It’s like a bad flight out of that old chestnut movie Mars Needs Women.  Except there won’t be any marriages, just some splicing of your DNA .

The latest episode hits on familiar themes of animal mutilation, interfering in the family tree, and alien abduction to take your precious bodily fluids.

We see the catalogue and history of images of animals with human heads .  According to the shows experts, this is the work of experimentation thousands of years ago by nefarious space creatures. For good measure, they show presents evidence of Russian experiments  in the 1950s when they put two heads on one dog.

Yes, they have the hideous photos to prove this contention.

All this goes to show that those little gray men are green with jealousy over human evolutionary jumps. We may still be in the middle of a great experiment.

Heaven help you if you are RH Negative As they seem to be targeting your blood type. The experts seem positive about this.  Perhaps 50% of all kidnapped victims by aliens have that blood type. And nearly all of those seem to be Basque descendants.

Nick Redferne and Linda Moulton Howe are ringing alarms, like hero Paul Revere. Only they are coming by air!

Digging Deeper into Ben Franklin’s Past

DATELINE: Electrifying Discovery

Franklin Re-enactor Not $50, Counterfeit Ben!

The first episode of the first season of Secrets of the Dead did not disappoint. Called “Ben Franklin’s Bones,” this historical documentary examined a horror story that seemed to emerge in the 1990s when excavators started to dig in the cellar of a Westminster house where Ben Franklin lived in for fifteen years.

Located in London, where he was an ambassador to Parliament for the colonies around 1760, Franklin rented rooms from a “second family” as he called them.

Police and detectives were called to the cellar where workers discovered a treasure trove (if that’s a bonanza) of many human bones. They needed a medical examiner to tell them how old these were, and if they died mysteriously.

Of course, the bones dated from the time that Franklin lived in the house. The noted Renaissance American was active in all kinds of research, membership in the Royal Society as part of his life of scholarship in London. However, no one thought he could be a serial killer. Call in the forensic experts.

And he wasn’t. The bones belonged to people (men, women, and children, birds and turtles) that were already dead. The bones were finely sawed—including the tops of skulls.

It seemed a bit creepy that Franklin could have anything to do with this: yet, the daughter of the household had married a doctor named Hewson who was a noted surgeon. He had presented papers on his research using mercury and turtles—both of which were in the cellar hole. The house, once renovated, became a museum to Franklin’s years in London.

Franklin was a close friend of the doctor and had sponsored his entry into the Royal Society. It would seem that even Ben Franklin had been connected to “Resurrection Men,” the notorious body snatchers of the era of Enlightenment. They provided cadavers stolen from cemeteries to medical men.

It wasn’t a crime to steal a body, only its clothes or jewelry.

The tease of indicting Franklin made for an alarming, if not suspenseful, study of life on Craven Street where the great man resided. All in all, this was a delightful look at a little-known facet of Ben’s amazing life.

 

 

Alien Infection: Pan-Spermia on Comets

DATELINE: Sick of Influenza?

Hoover teaching moment

Hoover teaches Giorgio a Lesson in Life Matter.

When we heard British author Michael Collins state that, “Viruses come from spice,” we were confounded until we realized that his accent actually meant “Viruses come from space.”

So, Ancient Aliens has reached the epidemiological conclusion that it is all astrobiology after all.

NASA scientist Dr. Richard Hoover takes Giorgio into a glacier to look for ice worms among the ancient DNA hiding in ice crystals. These likely arrived thousands, if not millions of years ago. They are waiting to infect us.

According to ancient alien theorists, these directed viruses are intended to alter us:  it’s the old Mathusian philosophy that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. It seems space aliens may be weeding out the weaker, culling the herd. We are becoming more like them: androgynous, smarter, and with more brittle bones. Sounds like pan-sexuality, not pan-spermia. It all could be the same thing.

Why? Well, the bad news is that we are being made more compatible to some reptilian space race in order to blend us together at some point in the future of the planet. Your forked tongue may be genetic.

When they point out that in 1918 on the same August day in Boston and Bombay, the Spanish influenza struck and proceeded to kill millions, this was likely the result of the virus riding into the world on the tail of a comet that swiped across two hemispheres.

Through the microbes of the universe the war on DNA was waged.

In case you were wondering, it appears that every living creature in the universe uses DNA to build his living blockheads of seeded beings. So, next time you see a reptilian, remember that he is a cousin under the scaly skin.

 

 

 

Moment of Definition: Republican!

DATELINE: Republic Con Job?

 Really, Republicans?

This is definitely not the week to be a Republican in Baltimore.

Without a doubt, this is not the week to be a Republican in Maryland.

We suspect this is not the week to be a Republican if you are black.

You are not a Republican if you are among the rat-infested in Kushnerville, Baltimore.

You probably don’t want to call yourself a Republican if you are a decent, kindhearted person who likes people.

You probably don’t want to call yourself a Republican if you are not a white nationalist neo-Nazi .

In all likelihood you are not a Republican if you believe in democracy and free elections

When Trump claims he is not a racist, you likely believe him if you are a Republican.

If you know anything about history, you may not call yourself a Republican.

If you believe Abraham Lincoln would be ashamed of the Republican party today, you are likely not a Republican.

If you believe Donald Trump is the most corrupt president in American history, you are definitely not a Republican.

If you don’t think Trump is a lockstepping, goose-stepping Nazi, you are definitely a rank and file Republican.

If you are a white Red Sox fan, you likely are a Republican.

If you think Shakespeare’s Richard III is not about Trump, you are a Republican.

If you feel like you are being drummed out of your party by racists, You are probably a Republican with a conscience. But chances are, you’re about to switch your registration to anything with human decency—And that definitely means you are not a Republican much longer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Angel on My Shoulder: Classic Fantasy

DATELINE: Devilish Fun.

he's no angel  He’s no angel (Muni with Rains).

Harry Segall was the trifecta leader in Hollywood in the 1940s. You may confuse his three movies about death and the hereafter for their formulaic plots.

He loved the devil/angel angles and used them in Here Comes Mr. Jordan, Heaven Can Wait (original story), and Angel on My Shoulder. He worked at all the major studios and wrote exactly the heavenly tale requested.

Almost always it featured the wry, sly Claude Rains (one-time Invisible Man) as the spiritual or demonic force. He did these lighter films between a series of Warner Brothers epics with either Bette Davis or Humphrey Bogart.

He was always the scene-stealing costar.

In Angel on My Shoulder, he reverses course and plays the devil. Indeed, the opening twenty minutes of the film is delightful in its cynical and diabolic presentation of Hell. And, Rains runs his  corporation with a hot hand. He quotes doggerel poetry to great effect.

Without makeup, Paul Muni is the lug this time: it’s either a boxer or a gangster from the shady side with a blue-collar, ghetto demeanor. He is always saved by a beautiful, wholesome girl (this time Anne Baxter before she went to seed in All About Eve).  Muni foregoes playing a historical figure to be a contemporary crook for once.

One you leave the netherworld and return to the Big City of 1946, you have the usual stereotypic gangster idiots with recognizable faces from a dozen other films. Of course, he takes over his Doppleganger’s body (the virtuous Judge Parker).

All the bad guys are shocked by the change in the Judge to newly acquired thuggish lexicon –“Let me case the joint,” he requests.

He has been dispatched by a traitor fellow crook, Smiley, when he asks for his old gat and receives four slugs. “Let me have it,” is exactly the mantra used.

Of course, the love of a good woman changes everything, though the gangster cannot remain in the body he doesn’t own—and more deals with the devil are required.

Special effects are simple and kept to a minimum, mostly walking through doors.

Rains always transcended the material, and he does so here too.

Fugitive 25 Years Later

DATELINE:  TV Classic Into Movie Classic

Taken in

A recent homage to the Harrison Ford/Tommy Lee Jones thriller, The Fugitive, never mentioned that it was based on the David Janssen, Quinn/Martin tv series.

Janssen died before age 50 in 1990, shortly before this big-screen version.

If this high-flying, high octaine movie had been a tv show, it would likely have been a two-parter on the small screen.

The film has big written all over it. Big effects and big budget.

We were most amused to see limping Harrison Ford as Dr. Richard Kimble jumping around like a superhero with super-strength, instead of a cardiologist in middle age. His jump off a dam would kill most, or break every bone. Not for Harrison Ford, he just limps away (actually having torn ligaments).

It seems there wasn’t a water hazard the producers and director Andrew Davis couldn’t let pass. Throw Ford into it. And, then, they looked for every staircase in Chicago and make Tommy Lee Jones run up and down.

Apart from that unusual quality, the film also features only three run-ins between the stars: Jones is a US Marshall (again and again in movies) who is relentless in chasing Ford. Their first encounter is 40 minutes into the movie in which Gerard (Jones) admits he does not care whether Dr. Kimble (Ford) is innocent.

These are two arrogant, type A personalities who will let nothing stop them, and therein is a hilarious adventure thriller. Billed nowadays as a thinking man’s version of Deathwish or Taken or even any Bruce Willis adventure, this lives up to its excitement.

Why Dr. Kimble returns to familiar haunts, like his hospital, to find the one-armed killer is beyond sanity. Filmed in Chicago and its St. Patrick’s Day Parade, it is atmospheric of the Windy City.

Everyone admits Dr. Kimble is smarter than the police, but not smarter than Tommy Lee’s laconic character with his snippy attitude.

Twenty-five years have not dampened this movie. It holds up on every level. It is worth your attention, with Big Pharma still the villain.

Posse: Political Western by Kirk Douglas

DATELINE: Anti-Western from 1975

Posse

When star Kirk Douglas went all out to become the Orson Welles of Westerns, he chose a highly political topic in the age of Nixon and corrupt politics in 1975. It’s called Posse.

In this sagebrush tale, Douglas is Howard Nightingale, a marshal running for U.S. Senator in Texas. He will be elected over the dead body of a notorious outlaw he chases and catches straw man named Jack Strawhorn (Bruce Dern).

Therein is the rub.

Douglas knew how to make action movies. After all, he worked with some of the great directors—and he decided to produce and direct as well as star as the anti-hero, or outright villain of hypocrisy. He is pure Kirk and that is highly watchable.

Traveling with a photographer taking shots of his great moments, the marshal hopes to run for President of the United States down the road. He even has an affable relationship with the bad guy.

It’s his posse that is the Achilles heel.

Like all political leaders, he relies on his staff (underpaid, less than scrupulous, and even corrupt). The marshal treats his men worse than the outlaw treats his. There’s a message in there about your politicians.

As the bad guy Dern states, there are enough types like the marshal already in Washington. They don’t need another.

The cast is right out of 1970s supporting actors. David Canary doesn’t last long, but Bo Hopkins is there—and James Stacy, after losing an arm and leg in a motorcycle accident, and later jailed as a pedophile, plays a newspaperman who contends that Kirk Douglas is in the bag for the railroads.

 

This is a violent and cynical Western, likely meant as an antidote to Clint and Duke. However, its politics is so negative that we blanch at its modern attitude. It is also clean and well-produced, like a classic 1950s movie, which is also out-of-date for the era in which Douglas made this movie.

 

Strange and idiosyncratic, this film is as watchable as well as execrable.

Penultimate Gold from Civil War Curse

DATELINE: No Greed Too Low?

teenage captain Capt. Luke

Gold fever means unreasonable behavior. You can certainly see it in the more frantic activities as Curse of Civil War Gold comes roaring into the close of the second season.

Kevin Dykstra has never been one to respect weather, however bad Lake Michigan can get. They reluctantly find Mike Nelson, a young hotshot who is not bothered by freezing water or crashing waves.

We were more amazed that he went down 40 feet in 35-degree water without any gloves in his dry suit. He found it nippy. With the crew out in a small boat being assaulted by waves, Dykstra tells their teenage captain Luke Springstead to hold the boat steady. Easy for him to say. When Dykstra calls him “Captain Luke,” it almost sounds like an insult.

A second lonely dive for Nelson brings them the news that two seasons of shows has insisted will pay off. He has video of gold bars—which is sent to Alex and Marty Lagina, warm and comfortable back at their estate and too smart to go out diving.

Lagina has never been shy about his greed, and he mirrors Dykstra’s attitude that safety and human concern be damned. What’s more they show an uncanny lack of loyalty. The first reaction is to bring in more professional divers—like the notorious point killer, John Chatterton.

On two separate occasions he nearly wiped out the Curse of Oak Island with his negativity. So, Marty Lagina orders them to bring him aboard. Nelson is sent packing out of the room to spare him the humiliation of being fired on camera.

We almost can hear him say in the finale: nope, nope, nope, you dope.

Tune in next time for the second season point killer.