Bill Gates Joins the Epstein Denial Club

DATELINE: LOL Lolita Express!

 Yuck or Yikes?

Lest we stir up a hornet’s nest of billionaire idiots, we want to castigate Bill Gates right out of the gate.

This week we learned that this richest man on earth type is either an idiot or thinks we are idiots. He denies he was a friend (close or otherwise) of pedophile suicide Jeffrey Epstein.

The frequent flier mileage and chronic visits to Epstein were all strictly for philanthropic reasons: not personal and not business.

Gates does write to a friend that he met a beautiful woman and her young daughter at Epstein’s manse and decided to spend the day. Hunh?

This is like Trump saying that he knew Epstein liked women, especially younger ones, and they shared that interest. Grab’em while they’re hot.

Nowadays, with money to revise history, these billionaire bozos are hiring PR men and women to whitewash the facts.

How illiterate are these clowns?

That seems to be the only excuse: each, even President Clinton, flew on Epstein’s rock and roll private jet, dubbed “Lolita Express.”

Not one had the literary acumen to recognize Nabokov’s pedophile object of desire. Not one asked why the plane was named after a pre-pubescent girl. Not one had seen the two movies on the subject, yes, titledLolita.

How lacking in curiosity can they be? Enough to know that ignorance is bliss; deniability is paramount in the world of billionaires trying to get away with murder, suicide, and pedophilia.

We have had our fill of dumb-bunny, Playboy bunny-loving rich dopes. Go to the back of the line, Gates and Trump.

Removing Another Satiric Barb

DATELINE: Un-wigged!

 Scalp Problem?

We see that a TV graphic headline has been called “racist,” and we thought how terrible. Then, we saw what the offensive words were: They alluded to the Atlanta/Boston/Milwaukee Braves and the situation of losing a playoff berth. Now, we have for some time thought that naming teams after Native Americans—or, as racists call them, Indians, whether they are from Washington, D.C., Cleveland, or Boston (where the Braves originated) is dicey.

We were never sure what Indians they referred to in Boston. It could be that Braves are simply people with courage, though young Native American warriors were called Braves. It was sort of like ‘grunts” or “GIs” in another framework.

So, Indian and Redskin are harder to justify. If this seems like a hairy tale, you will be forewarned to avoid head-hunters.

Back to the point of the racist claim: it struck us as a play on humor and defeat. It is known that some brutal Indian raids resulted in “scalping” of victims. This was not necessarily an action limited to Native Americans but was a kind of trophy hunting.

To say the Braves were “scalped” seems rather oxymoronic. Who did the scalping? People who sell tickets to games outside a venue?

We seem to have entered a world in which words have either lost their meaning or have become metaphoric bonfires of the vanities.

If this full lobotomy assault continues on satiric wordsmiths, we shall soon be de-fanged, de-clawed, and shorn of our satirizing locks. In a crew cut mode, we may not again use Scalpicine on our collective itchy head. Sign language could also be offensive to Native Americans, to which we raise a well-placed finger in response.

Truer than Truth: Shakespeare

DATELINE: Who is the Bard?

Shake-Vere?

Once again, a list of notable Shakespearean actors (Derek Jacobi among them) takes on the question of whether William Shakespeare was the man he claimed to be.

The film is called Nothing is Truer than Truth.

One theory continues to be pushed: Shakespeare was a pseudonym for Edward de Vere, a foppish bisexual Elizabethan favorite.

How could a country bumpkin who never left England write 40 plays about royal courts in Venice, Rome, and Greece? How could a man who did not have access to the greatest libraries of English nobility have done his research? As usual, the likelihood of genius never enters the equation. Even a genius needs a little knowledge (unless he is psychic).

One man fits the bill Shake-speare quite well. Edward de Vere.

With the use of mostly American experts, the documentary takes on a decidedly different tone than most of the British interpretations of the Shakespeare controversy.

Indeed, this approach takes De Vere on his travels to Venice, Palermo, Cyprus, and Milan, all spots with highly personal character references in the Shakespeare plays. De Vere met with Cervantes and Titian, and details about these men were not in libraries or generally known in England: but they appear in Shakespeare’s wortks.

So, the ultimate connection is whether Shakespeare and De Vere knew each other—had a literary and personal relationship that might account for the authorship being joint.

So many incidents are based on problems in De Vere’s life: from an unfaithful wife—to his odd bisexual hints in characters. His travels gave him insights into poison poured into a king’s ear and a noble with a younger male whispering in his ear.

De Vere had the attention of Queen Elizabeth (whom some hint) was a man in drag. He had married badly into the Lord Cecil family, but it didn’t stop him from burning through the equivalent of a million dollars in a year.

This excellent film ends asking us whether we have praised the wrong man for 400 years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ancient Aliens: Second Half 14thSeason

 Rock Carving or UFO?

 

DATELINE: Stardate, 14.15

Coming back after a short hiatus, the Ancient Aliens series picks up by giving another of its regular cast members a vacation trip.

This time it is William (Don’t Call Me Bill) Henry, stalwart reporter, who takes time to visit Italy during a glorious summertime trip.

We don’t know if he saw Naples, took in Rome, or went on a paddle down the streets of Venice, but he surely examined Turin in depth.

Who knew it was a hotspot of extraterrestrial history, superseding even the Romans and the Etruscans?

The ostensible opening gambit is ley lines, those straight lines points around the globe that seem to indicate some deeper power of magnetism or mineral-laden waters. There is a line going directly from Ireland to Italy, and you don’t have to join Ancestry.com to find it.

You might cry out, “Macaroni,” but the series is claiming that the Italian Alps are the embassies of the UFO visitors. The other comment to raise your eyebrow is that conjunctivitis is caused by radiation.

In any respect, the Mt. Musine area near Turin is highly active. The show notes how important Turin is in history and economic terms without ever mentioning the Shroud of Turin.

This was the place where Emperor Constantine saw something in the sky that converted him and his men to Christianity, making this one of the earliest UFO encounters on record. There’s more: Turin is a smorgasbord of activity, ranging from stone carving and geoglyphs to dragon stories, fiery chariots, missing time abductees, and UFO chases by the Italian Air Force.

It seems there may be underground bases here along the Italian Alps: skiers are hereby warned.

Chasing but not Chaste Michael Jackson!

DATELINE: Defensive Defense

 No More, Please!!!

A documentary to defend Michael Jackson against child molestation charges proves to be highly defensive in itself.

Chasing Michael Jackson is an odd bird, and not because the dead subject is a dodo bird who cannot defend himself, but because we can’t really figure out what the real motive is. Yes, there are some extremely close friends and relatives of Jackson who participate to discredit his accusers.

It is hard to know where the “journalist” behind this film comes from: he insists in his on-camera and extensive interviews that he is digging for the truth. He also takes great pains to discredit one “victim” for claiming he was molested in a part of the Jackson estate that was not built until three years after. Pictures prove that point, but never explain the other possible reasons for the discrepancy. We do hear charges that the victim is a perjurer who swore Jackson never touched him a decade earlier at trial.

One of the other key personalities is Mark Lester, the former child star (from Oliver!) and friend of Jackson as a contemporary. He too claims the victim and family were greedy and vindictive. Lester never mentions that he has since claimed to be the sperm donor for one, or more, of Jackson’s children.

The documentary takes aim at the “Me Too” movement, walking a tightrope about victim rights while trampling on selected victims.

One thing is right: this is all about money. Everyone is on the gravy train, cashing in on Jackson long after his premature death.

 

 

 

Blowing the Whistle on Trump

DATELINE: New Trump Godfather Movie?

 New Don Trump!

In a new Godfather sequel, Don Vito Trump makes an offer that a whistleblower cannot refuse.  Yes, if the anonymous whistleblower reveals his identity, Russian mobsters will not only break his legs, he will be able to meet the man he accuses of criminal deals as he is fitted with cement overshoes.

If you ever wondered why whistleblowers are afraid, you have only to ask Fox journalists who liken them to “rotten snitches.” Yes, so much for the fair and balanced approach to someone reporting on corruption found in the Washington swamp.

Like calling his lawyer Michael Cohen, his mouthpiece of yore, a rat, Trump envisions the world in movie mob terms.

We now know that if you drain the swamp, you will find a slime-ball with orange hair lurking in the mud. The Creature from the Black Lagoon is now POTUS.

Don Trump does have a right to meet his accuser—in a court of impeachment in the United States Senate. And by then, it will be too late to have him executed—unless the Senate decides that Trump is really a king, not a president.

As of today, we have received another request from Trump to pay for his impeachment defense: his billions are not enough. Now the Don Trump is baking canolis filled with creamy poison for the American electorate.

We are not sure if the Don knows that this is not the Vatican where you can have the Pope replaced (as in Godfather 3). In this sequel, the mob plans to supply the voters with Ukrainian voting booths.

We have seen a preview of the film in which Don Trump’s grandchildren are dressed up like the Storm Troopers in the Star Wars series. In case you forgot, the Nazi Storm Troopers in white plastic suits were the bad guys who went against the forces of good.

In Trump’s world, life is like a box of chocolate movie sequels: all covered in Rambo Blood.

Another Canard Tossed at Tom Brady

DATELINE: Uncle Tom’s Cabin and White Rice

 Racist Tom at Kentucky Derby 

If being an old codger in the NFL isn’t enough to create mockery, now a humbug New England sex professor is accusing Brady of the canard of a can of worms: the racist card canard.

Every time we try to extricate our reputation of being a Tom Brady critic, the forces of New England sports pull us back into the maelstrom.

Our latest laugh riot opinion centers on a University of Rhode Island Gender Studies professor who has written that Brady’s appeal is to white nationalist-types and typos.

If you know academia, like we do as a former don of the academic mob, you know this sort of “professor” has used gender politics as his bread and butter with jam topping.

Brady, guilty of deflating footballs and playing when he should be in a rocking chair, has now incurred the wrath of some transplant transgender New Englander who hates sports and loves gender misidentification. This sensation-seeking pariah now has taken aim at Brady’s Trump-loving demeanor.

It seems back in 2015, Uncle Tom expressed support for Trump and kept a MAGA hat in plain view that incensed Chicagoans like Jussie Smollett.

Now Brady is accused of fostering racism on his Kentucky Derby trips with many friends (nearly all of whom are, uh-oh, white in a sport that has 66% black players). As a crypto-Nazi sort, Tom-boy is always kissing owner Robert Kraft (who is Jewish) and Julian Edelman (who is lesser Jewish).

You may want to overlook that Brady recently invited black icon Antonio Brown to live in his home where his young daughter and model wife also reside. We have to complain that this is surely a coverup of his racism, unless you want tenure at URI.

Prof. Kyle Kusz sounds like a mixed bag of a political windbag variety.

Throwing a log onto the racist Brady theory encourages racist supporters’ fire-down-below is a low-blow even for an academic in New England unless he already has tenure and loves death threats.

Alms for the Rich! Trump Begs for $$

DATELINE: White Wash at the White House

 Defending the Indefensible?

All past Republican donors are now being asked by the Trump Defense Team to donate money to prevent impeachment. Yes, I have received a request, having made the horrid mistake of donating to Trump’s election by buying Trump Coffee Mug.

Yes, he sees this as a political campaign. Are there election laws for this kind of slime-ball request? It may not fall under Election laws.

Trump is calling this a “WITCH HUNT,” and asking previous donors (like me) to give money to defend his indefensible behavior. He has no idea what he has done, and he is not interested in facing his corrupt behavior. His supporters are of the same mind: like Lindsay “blackmail victim” Graham who now says that it’s an inconsequential phone call to a foreign leader to interfere in an American election. It is not a problem for these “patriots” to ask a foreign government to smear a candidate for the office of President.

There is a moral blind spot here. It’s like color-blindness. They simply cannot see red.

There is something unseemly about a defense team collecting money to defend a man who says he has done nothing wrong. If you live in a moral vacuum, you likely do not think you ever can do wrong. Wrong is a moral concept, and if there is a spot where Trump cannot see, it is when it comes to morality.

We cannot figure out who will actually receive any funds donated: Guiliani? Ivanka? Trump Tower?

And he counts on a bunch of idiots who will soon part with their money in defense of a criminal and lawless man who will destroy the Constitution before he leaves office.

If you want to buy the Brooklyn Bridge, you may as well give to the Impeachment Defense Fund. Better to buy a condo in Trump Tower. At least you might have a tax write-off if you are audited.

Now if they throw in a collectible coffee mug that will be worth its weight in gold after he is tossed out of office, I may consider sending $5.

 

 

 

Idiot’s Delight: ImPeach Delight!

DEADLINE:  Traitor to his Country

We can only imagine that King Louis XIV had the same reaction to the sentence of beheading that Trump showed when confronted with impeachment this week.

He can’t believe it. It’s impossible. It cannot happen in a privileged world to a billionaire who usually throws a tantrum, fires a few people, and has his way confirmed.

We imagine Czar Nicholas reacted the same way when the Bolsheviks pulled out their guns to fire him and his family with the ultimate fire squad. How can this be happening to a sovereign leader?

You can count on the fact that, as he stayed hunkered down in his bunker at the end, that Adolph Hitler couldn’t believe how a man with the world at his disposal could end up hiding like a mole in a hole.

Donald Trump’s famous line, “You’re fired,” has taken on a personal connection as the House of Representatives now want to utter it with biting irony. They have taken a page out of the double-down book and thrown it at Trump.

A man who thinks he can use his office as a staging ground to hawk his luxury golfing hotels and enrich his bank accounts is a little slow on the up-take when it comes to violating an oath of office he took.

Stable geniuses are supposed to be above the law. At least that’s what his lawyers are paid to say: Rudi Giuliani is not an idiot, but he’s paid to act like one.

Trump never had trouble telling professionals, like doctors, to report he is in perfect health—or they faced ruination by tweet.

However, Trump cannot buy a legion of “socialists,” nor can he order Russian mob hit squads to take them all out. So, you now have the befuddled, fat old man in the White House mulling over what legislation he can throw at the Democrats to derail his impeachment. Want immigration reform? Want tax relief? Want environmental safeguards? You got it—just leave the president in his oval office, and, oh yeah, let him run for re-election.

Where’s Roy Cohn indeed?

 

Angels in America: Part One

DATELINE: Where’s My Roy Cohn?

  We’re No Angels!

Can it be that 15 years after the Mike Nichols-HBO depiction of Tony Kushner’s Angels in America that it has new life?

Give credit to Donald Trump or damn him to hell for resurrecting his mentor, long-dead Roy Cohn.

The main character in Angels in Americais Cohn, as played by Al Pacino, in a fire-brand, brilliant performance while still in his salad days. In the first chapter he has only two scenes: one to start the episode, and one to finish. But he is what hooks you to begin the mini-series of an award-winning play—and his extraordinary scene with James Cromwell at the end will bring you back.

What’s in between is somewhat pedestrian gay:  a Mormon couple (Mary-Louise Parker and Patrick Wilson) are in discord because he may well be a closet case gay man in 1985. Counter this with a Jewish law clerk Louis (Ben Shenckman) and his HIV positive boyfriend Prior (Justin Kirk). They are cute and tortured by their inner gay demons.

We give Nichols credit for playing this up with references to Wizard of Oz and Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast. It’s pure gay counter-culture.

The actors are transcendent with characters who are not. Yet, the openness of the sexual lives is bracing, even today. To combine two hallucinations of characters who don’t know each other is nothing short of brilliant, cross-pollinating the subplots.

Yet, we are drawn to the foul-mouthed Cohn, nasty and demagogic, and though we see no Trump, we see what feeds the monster. His final exchange with his doctor, indicating he has liver cancer, not AIDS, and that he is not homosexual, but only fools around with men.

It is the massive unapologetic denial, lies upon lies, to feed self-delusion and feed media attention with distortion and misdirection. Episode One sets up a compelling situation for the remainder of the series.

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Third-Eye Spies: Remote Viewers

DATELINE: Alphabet Soup, NSA, CIA, DIA, KGB

The CIA declassified 70,000 top secret items recently on its 25-year program on Remote Viewing. Third Eye Spiesis a documentary film about a controversial subject, even today, let alone the 1970s.

After it was learned that the Soviets were actively seeking a psychic weapon in the Cold War arsenal as a 1970s spy mission, to create an bureau of paranormal viewers who could “see” anyplace in the world that was needed to give reports to the United States. The CIA, at first, merely wanted to discredit the subject, but found it could not.

There is more than ideomotor at work in the universe, Horatio.

Jimmy Carter, then president in 1979, learned of one psychic who located a missing plane that the Air Force recon could not find. She gave latitudes and longitude to its exact location. It convinced everyone.

Before that, a group of physicists (Russell Targ, Pat Price, Kit Green, and Ingo Swann) were members of Sanford Research Institute, the foremost research group in the country. They kept their autonomy and refused to join MK-Ultra, the CIA LSD program of the era.

Their experiments had to be kept secret for fear that government funding would be ceased if such a “crackpot” notion were to become known in Congress.

No one dares to speak the name “séance” because it would have sent chills into the program and ended any serious study of parapsychology. But what you had was a group of gifted people conducting seances (without contacting dead people), at least for the record.

Swann, a gay man, was the purest of all the psychics and mediums. Not only was he a painter of mystical art works, but he could look anywhere in the universe. He reported there were rings around Jupiter years before they were discovered. It is called paraphysics nowadays—that there are rules of universal and natural law that are trans-dimensional.

Dr. Pat Price, the best of the clairvoyants, died under mysterious circumstance in Las Vegas in 1975, but it was swept under the rug: surprise. He was able to find Patty Hearst when the FBI came to him—and two years after his death, they learned that he had described a Soviet nuclear device to shoot down American satellites.

One of their contacts at CIA was often referred to as the American Mengele, Dr. Sid Gottlieb who ran the most covert LSD and medical experiments then done. And, surprise of surprises, Uri Geller, famous entertainer, worked as a double-agent for several governments, providing literal insights.

This film cannot be viewed normally, as it is clear that disinformation and discredit is heaped everywhere by former KGB agents and the CIA, which have reason to obfuscate the results. In the United States, Robert Gates leads the big bonehead opposition. On the other hand, mystical astronaut Edgar Mitchell found answers in new perspectives.

Once again, we have a look at a paranormal, or paraphysical world, that fails to take into consideration communicate with trans-dimensional beings, whether they are space aliens, or dead people.

Remote Viewing has enough problems without tying its wagon to seance.

 

 

 

 

 

Ancient Aliens Ends Part One Season

 Nick Pope

DATELINE:  Going Nuclear!

A month from now another seasonal series of episodes will rejoin the History Channel. This may be the most amazing extra-terrestrial act of the entire series history: it manages to break one season into two. Ancient Alienswill be out of commission for a month or so.

That being dismissed, the last of the shows before a month-long hiatus took an interesting opportunity to bring together some usually unidentified witnesses to notorious incidents of the 1960s This is “The Nuclear Agenda,” about how UFOs proliferated after atom bombs and military facilities became common.

Almost immediately, a rash of green orbs (UfOs) covered the skies.

The show sought out the old-timers who can bear witness. Now a bunch of aging, former military men, officers like Robert Salas, told of their experience at a military base when UFOs shut down a dozen nuclear missile silos.

This tale has been often recounted, but never did witnesses have a chance to show up personally to tell their tale: Giorgio Tsoukalos had the golden interview with the officer of one of these experiences: and even went out to a historical site, preserved in time as the base where the incident occurred.

You are able to wander around the site, look at the missile silo, and even go into a bunker deep within where a control center was manned by the officer. It is all enhanced by having the participant note that he had not been back here in years—and even the smell of the place came back to him. Utterly brilliant stuff.

The story is that a giant red orb showed up at the front gate in 1967—and guards were in a panic, calling the command center where they suddenly realized that some tremendous power was taking control of the missiles. They were all on independent systems and should not have been treated like ducks in a row.

The officers were later forced to sign non-disclosure documents that kept them silent for 30 years—but now they had no fears about talking. And, there were other incidents. Nick Pope, one of the former British defense people at another of these bases under UFO attack, claimed that the UFOs were mapping every nuclear base arsenal over decades.

Why they would need so much time to do this may be a fly in the ointment.

Yet, the theory is that the nuclear weapons may have dangers that go outside the realms of this dimension—and splitting atoms may cause problems in other places in an inter-connected universe. Thus, aliens must stop these pesky humans from destroying—not merely themselves—but other civilizations in other dimensions.

It is a wild theory, but not beyond para-physics—as our knowledge of the worlds and dimensions around us seem less than nil.

The show then tied in Pakistani nuclear explosions discovered in 1922 that likely happened tens of thousands of years ago, wiping out a city where bodies were calcified in attitudes of death when discovered in the 20thcentury. The show went on to suggest either there were previous civilizations in the world with nuclear weapons, or aliens came here to fight their battles in prehistorical times. The concepts are not new, but were given full attention in the show that raises serious issues that cannot be dismissed, yet pop culture also exudes its own nuclear wipeout quality.

 

 

 

 

 

Dangerous Hunting Game

 DATELINE: Richard Connell Classic

 Fay Wray Sees Something!

If you are looking for the prequel to 1933’s King Kong,you will have found it with this first major adaption of Richard Connell’s famous (or infamous) story called The Most Dangerous Game.

Right from the opening credits, you will recognize the style and tone of the classic big monkey movie. That’s for a number of reasons: foremost, the producers of the Kong and Son thereof films honed their approach to the topic with this classic.

You have the basic premise of a sea captain taking his ship and passengers out into remote and uncharted waters where lurks an island with mystery. It almost seems like the same prologue to each film.  Officers are concerned with strange locales not on maps.

Instead of Bruce Bennett (or is that Cabot), you have interchangeable leading man Joel MacRae as the resilient young adventurer. When he is washed up on the shores of a strange island, he meets none other than Kong’s leading lady, Fay Wray, who is also stranded there with her brother, played by—you guessed it—the man who gave us the Eighth Wonder of the World—Robert G. Armstrong (not Carl Denham this time, but a ne’er-do-well with the same personality).

They are the guests not of a giant gorilla but of the King of the Island, General Zaroff, (played in slimeball style of the 1930s by Leslie Banks). It seems he has a strange fetish: he likes to hunt big game that is truly dangerous, like people. Back in those pre-Hitler times, he was not a Nazi, crypto-Nazi, or neo-Nazi, but some kind of twisted member of the aristocracy.

With its chase scenes through the jungle, the pounding music, and the production values of Merriam C. Cooper, you have a sense of been-there, done-that, from the next year version of King Kong.

It is a delight to feel the similarity, and you keep wondering where the dinosaurs are.

 

Every Act of Life: Terrence McNally

DATELINE: Surviving Show Business

 Terry McNally & Eddie Albee back when….

In all my connections to Broadway writers, Terrence McNally never came up much.

Now James Kirkwood would talk about everyone in show biz! We gossiped about them all. Yet, there is no memory of him mentioning McNally.

Oh, they knew of each other: gay writers winning friends in great theater. Kirkwood certainly knew Edward Albee who was McNally’s first important boyfriend, but McNally may have been too openly gay for Jim Kirkwood. It’s the only conclusion to make.

Every Act of Lifeis a documentary on the life of McNally who worked with every actor imaginable since the death of Jim Kirkwood in 1989, and that may be the survival of your reputation in show business. Richard Thomas, Nathan Lane, Rita Moreno, F. Murray Abraham, Angela Lansbury, all share memories of their careers and personal ties to McNally and his funny and varied plays.

All Jim’s closest actor friends, like Sal Mineo, are long gone. One young writer once said to me: “Wow, I didn’t think any of Kirkwood’s friends were still alive.”

McNally survived, though people like Robert Drivas, his tempestuous and exotic actor boyfriend after Albee, died of AIDS in 1985 in the first wave of notable show business deaths. Drivas was a closet case, and yet it was open and flamboyant McNally who still lives nearly forty years later.

There is no accounting for survival, but you have to admire it when it shows up at your door. The film on the life of McNally is likely a tonic and a fizz for gay people who need superior role models. If you die too soon, you can’t be much of a mentor. If Jim Kirkwood were here, I might say you should never have told me to write your autobiography and play coy about your gay life. Yet, he did.

McNally, had I known him, would never have said such a thing, but those plays and characters never quite grabbed like Jim Kirkwood’s creations.

Oh, it’s too late now to do much about it, but we can celebrate the life of Terrence McNally, albeit a tad on the late side.

 

Dr. William Russo wrote Riding James Kirkwood’s Pony, available in paperback and e-book on Amazon.