Ivanka’s Wacky Future

Next Door Neighbor and Political Ally?

DATELINE:  Like Father, Like Daughter 

Where will the President’s First Daughter go after four years of delusions? She said she won’t go to the Biden Inauguration. She has that right: she wasn’t invited.

She has burned the New York Brooklyn Bridge to her former home.  She and hubby Kushner have bought property on Indian Creek Island, a billionaire playground in Florida.

She plans to build a new mansion, worthy of her. What’s interesting is that she purchased the land within days of Tom Brady also buying into the 30 manse island, with security that US Capitol would envy.

They both will build as neighbors. In fact, Brady once was the marriage partner choice of Daddy Trump, but Brady knew better. His wife is a genuine billionaire.

And, Giselle has social contacts that will open up the private golf course for Tom. It seems the residents are rather cool to Trump and his family. Ivanka and hubby Jared are not golfers, and they likely will be shunned by the community.

However, Ivanka is thinking politics. She may be on a crash course with Tom here too. Rumor has it that she wants to be a US Senator, and will challenge Rubio in 2022.  

Tom will have to wait for the next seat. They both will feel more comfortable with the conservative, senior voters of Florida than anything in the Northeast where bad weather and bad politics go hand in gloves.

By the time Tom Brady is ready to venture out from his Indian Creek luxury life, Ivanka will be running for president and Tom can step into her senate seat.

Poor Marco Rubio. All that loyalty to Trumps will end with ashes in his mealy-mouth.

 Out, Out, Damned Spot! Trump Cut!

Trump Cut Out of Movie

DATELINE: Fans Direct Home Alone Cut

You know Donald Trump’s legacy is in trouble when his innocuous scene in Home Alone 2 is now under editorial attack. You can yell, “Cut” or “Hang Mike Pence,” but Trump is about to be given the digital age’s equivalent of Marie Antoinette’s fate.

Called Lost in New York, the sequel to the beloved movie that launched Macauley Culkin now will cast fate to the wind and Trump to the dust bin.

Off with his head is now a movie production shot heard round the world. Donald Trump is being digitally removed from a scene of several seconds as he gives Macauley Culkin direction to the hotel lobby.

Culkin has given his imprimatur to the action.

Not since Kevin Spacey was edited out of a finished and unreleased movie two years ago have we seen such a use of movie-making techniques. Spacey was sliced and diced out of the movie for his sexual peccadilloes. Trump now shares an infamy with sex abusers (though that is another story).

Not safe for children may be the new mantra when parents want to show Home Alone 2 to their kids: you better make sure that liars, provocateurs, and sedition-guilty insurgents are out of the picture.

An adult Culkin not only supports the move, but is prepared to replace Trump as the man in the lobby. So, an adult version of himself addresses the child, which is fairly funny and poetic justice. It’s also a little creepy.

Trump may suffer more inglorious fates in the years ahead, but like Benedict Arnold and Aaron Burr, he has reached a new low in American movie history.

 

Trump’s Alamo Visit

Cheaters United

 DATELINE: Taking Belichick Down with Him

All metaphors are imperfect, and nothing could be more imperfect than the notion of Trump at the Alamo. It’s the ultimate union of insanity and patriotism.

The fighters who died to the death at the Alamo wanted to have a separate country in Texas. They were the original Republicans.

In movies and TV, you saw John Wayne and Fess Parker play their careers to the hilt of martyrdom on the screen. And, now the disgraced POTUS who instigated sedition and high crimes on a level with Aaron Burr wants to play himself as the end closes in.

He makes it worse for his supporters when he decides to give the Ultimate New England Patriot, Bill Belichick, a gift for his support; the Medal of Freedom as one of his last disgusting acts. It’s typical for a man who started his political rise by bashing Mexicans as rapists and drug dealers and ends with the symbol of a wall against Mexico at the bastion where Mexican soldiers  killed Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie.

Belichick intends to visit the White House as the Congress votes a second impeachment of Trump. Who is the mad man here? We count Belichick among the NFL cheaters with Spygates 1 & 2 and Trump with Impeachment 1 & 2.

And, now, the Patriots should fire Belichick, sacrifice to the cause of a coup d’etat,the supporter of Trump and coach of historical arrogance and now hostage to his own hubris.

Losing the season, losing Tom Brady, and losing his mind, Bill Belichick now will regain infamy by going to the White House and accepting honor from a man who has made honor a badge to kill legislators at the U.S. Capitol, and claim he was a victim of voters.

If the owners of the Patriots do not fire Bill Belichick for this egregious act, then we have the demise of a franchise, self-perpetuated by the Kraft family (Trumpists too and big lonely New England supporters of the American Hitler) in the most of antithetical states standing against Trump: New England went overwhelmingly for anybody but Trump.

We are watching the spectacle of the last gasp of a political movement and the gasping greed of a sports dynasty. America never had it so wrong and may be sinking into its own miasma of Nazism, white supremacy, and stupidity.

Feeding the Birdies

Bye, bye, Birdie?

 DATELINE: Keep Your Eye on the Birdie

Not quite having devolved into the state of Nikola Tesla feeding pigeons in Central Park, we have nonetheless taken a turn toward pity toward fellow creatures.

With the overnight ice storm, the ground is a white frozen tundra and the little chickadees and finches in the backyard seem forlorn. They hop in and stand there as if frozen to the ground.

So, we went out to spread good cheer and a little birdseed.

What then transpired from the vantage of the patio window was Nature’s call in spades. It was an all-you-can-eat bonanza in town. It was also the only eatery open. So, the birds descended like Hitchcock nightmare.

It was like McDonald’s drive-thru with crash cars. IN an expanse, the birds came crashing down on top of the previous eater, knocking him away. So much for good manners. It was also eat and run.

The chickadees seemed to take one seed and fly up to the tree to eat in peace. They returned a few seconds later to repeat the ritual dining.

A little flinch stayed and gobbled up all he could as fast as he could. These are notorious sloppy eaters. If you drop a seed, the next bird quickly devours it. Table scraps are at a premium. The birds clocked in every three seconds.

We found they went for the large black seeds first. They disdained the small white seeds, and only when the first choice was gone did they partake of the left-overs.

We had our culinary lesson of the year. Birds do not keep social distance when it comes to a food fight.

Tesla was on to something by watching this sideshow.

By Any Other Name, President-Elect

Club Elect

 DATELINE: Un-Elected Dis-Elected 

Now that the Electoral College has voted, let’s call a spade a spade.  Joe Biden is President-Elect.

If our logic is correct, that makes the present occupant of the Oval Office the President-Unelect. It seems we have too many presidents buzzing around. If you count all those deadbeats who gather together in a little club, you have five or six others too.

They have been unelected for years, but show up for historic photos now and then, all smiling and friendly. Well, that’s about to end. One new member of the Un-elected President Club will surely be black-balled from the White House.

Trump has already been disinvited from funerals and other functions that, like Groucho Marx, he won’t attend with other presidents that will have him as a member.

Trump has not invited the latest President-Elect to the White House, and the other President-Unelecteds have also stopped coming around for photo oops.

Sen.-Diselect Lindsay Graham has now claimed he will not call the President-Elect by that title, but will refer to him as Just Joe. It seems a bit unjust, Joe.

By Jan. 20th, Graham will be called Mudd when President Un-Elect Trump will be in Florida, helping Ivanka prepare to run for the next President-Elect job.

None of this should confuse you when it comes to the role of Attorney General, which is now Dis-Barred.

  Tom Brady Hates New England Weather

 DATELINE:  Snowy Brady

Once upon a time weather in New England was one of those rare subjects you could talk about safely, no controversy to ensue, no political opinions offered and offended.

Tom Brady, Grifter Emeritus of the Trump Administration, has changed that.

This week in a presser, Brady gave the unsolicited opinion that he would never “be caught dead in the Northeast again.”

He loves Florida weather. He has not put on a hoodie this year, and he can play outdoors to his heart’s content. He did not use the term New England, but Northeast. But we know what he meant. He spent 25 yars in hell. Now it’s Death in Miami Beach, or Tampa Bay.

He plans to build a mansion on Indian Creek Island where there are 30 residents, including Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner. He will be right at home with his political allies.

Brady gave that number, 25 years, to indicate how long he suffered in the Northeast. Of course, four of those years were in Michigan. Forgive him:  he’s a general studies major, not too up on things like geography. He can’t tell whether Michigan is part of Vermont.

Come to think of it, his math skills seem a little off too. He was in New England 20 years, and 6 Super Bowl titles, 3 flopperoos. So, half his time in cold unpleasant New England weather were his best professional years. And, New England thought he was a natural for cold weather playing.

Of course, Mark Twain once said he counted 70 different kinds of weather in New England in five minute. Tom cannot reach those heights.

He hated that his son Benjamin played hockey, and that’s now over. If you don’t play warm weather football, you are skating on thin ice with Tom.

He recently sold his Manhattan condo for $30 million and will never return to New York either. Too cold, especially when it comes to cold cash. The grifter knows his bucks. He took one million from Small Business Admin to infuse his copper-infused TB12 pajama game.

That gave him the down-payment on a hot yacht, and the rest came out of the cold weather profits from selling his overheated condo.

Tom Brady, not exactly a Native Son of New England, though we do feel comfortable in calling him a snow bird.

 

 

 

Roswell UFO Conspiracy Unlocked

Philip Mantle

DATELINE:  Not again?

Good heavens, not another Roswell saucer crash history? This has just been released as an hour-long documentary of 2020. Can there be anything new here? We were held in place because this looked like a high-quality and stylish film, well-produced.

It became somewhat worse after the first half that went over fairly worn ground. It used some interviews with notable people from the case, Dr. Jesse Marcel, Jr. and Frankie Rowe, two young people in 1947 who have since died.

Their participation is noted by main narrator Philip Mantle, a British UFO expert and investigator for 40 years or more. He is straight-forward and pleasant enough. His perspective is the mainstay of the movie.

The worse part becomes the second half that is a new, kind of apology for the alien autopsy movie that has long been debunked as fake.

Ray Santilli, its producer, is an associate of Mantle who seems to think he is Mickey ready to hit a home run for revealing some new info on the 1993 phony and grotesque autopsy on some hideous little person who looks pregnant.

Mantle comes across as a dedicated and sincere researcher who has dedicated his life to solving a mystery and feels that one theory is that there was an original autopsy film from the 1947 era, whether faked by the CIA or real that resembled the fictional recreation done in a style that would never have passed muster in a World War II military.

Something may still be out there that has confused witnesses of the original and the fake that seems like new footage from the original.

This odd film does enough to raise again the ugly specter of the alien autopsy being real, just not the one you’ve seen on TV and Internet.

 

 

 

 

 

Hat Trick for Monolith

Popping Up like Daisy, Daisy

DATELINE:  Threesome

Like 2001 A Space Odyssey, we just keep running into these monoliths. The latest is not in Keir Dullea’s bedroom, nor have the Chinese found it on their latest Moon landing. It’s not running circles around Titan and Jupiter.

Like Davy Crockett, they seem to be born on a mountain top, though not necessarily in Tennessee, or have they looked at Cumberland Gap yet?

No, this one has suddenly appeared on Pine Mountain, a molehill in California.

These monoliths must have a monorail system giving them a tour of the highest mountaintops where they can bask in the sunlight for a few short days.

Yes, the monoliths live; they are the monoliths. They feel, they watch sunset glow. They reflect something peculiar. Could they be totems to ward off the corona virus?

Scarce heard amid the vandals below, they are the monos. Short days ago there were others, but now they lie in the field, felled by pushy monkeys.  They keep showing up at the darndest places with a shine and now a stainless steely grit.

The aliens appear to be working out the kinks. Alas, vandals may have more kinks than creatures from another dimension. We hear the Gregorian Chants.

The Monoliths seem to cry out: “We are the monuments to your folly.”  They are testimony to the age of viagra.

What are the odds this one bites the dust before the weekend? The money is on the monkey.

 

 

New American Voting System

Trump Voter

DATELINE: Up is Down

If Trump and his psychopaths are humored, we must go back over the past fifty years and declare the loser of every presidential election to be the true winner.

Yes, Jimmy Carter beat that deadbeat Ronald Reagan and the election was stolen.

Barry Goldwater should have been inaugurated, not LBJ, but the election was rigged.

Mike Dukakis was the rightful loser and should have been installed in the Oval office.

Without a doubt, the correct way to hold elections is to let the worst man (or lately woman) be celebrated as the loser with the most votes ever achieved for losing.

Winning is not all it cracks up to be:  it simply means you are a cheater and a fraud. Damn the voting machines and the voters who cast ballots. If your candidate is the pits, he should be the incumbent.

Trump has smashed another tradition:  losers are better than winners, and anyone who voted for the other guy was a dummy. If you can’t have your way at the ballot box, have Nazi-leaning politicians negate the vote and make their own selection.

If you think this is crazy, you don’t know your history. Most democracies have fallen for less, and all dictators have risen by the din of the dolt supporters.

America has reached its nadir, and the loser is at the bottom of the barrel must be declared riot leader.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trump Upside Down in a Downturned Upside

Put on a Mask! or is Mask a Put On?

DATELINE: Cliche Gone Bad

Is our long national nightmare now actually over? We have Biden our time for four years to have this moment in the sun. The odds are that Las Vegas has cast out the oddball.

The pandemic known as Trumporona Virus may go overseas, as he promises to leave the country. We aren’t sure what s-hole country will accept this refugee. They have laws too about unwanted immigrants and illegal thugs. We hope they have cages for his children.

Trump in defeat has turned the world of cliché expression on its sow’s ear. For every action, there is an inaction. A fool and his tax money will soon be joined in federal prison.

This worm has not turned. He won’t turn on a dime, and he remains the same every day the more things change.  As usual, he never gets out of bed on the wrong side; every side is right, extreme right.

Trump’s knickers are never in a twist. The  knickers belong to others that he twists, usually while some poor woman is wearing them. 

He will not leave with his tail between his legs. His tale is between the history pages of the fall of the Roman Empire.

After chasing peaceful protesters with pitchforks and torches, they have turned the tables with mail-in ballots, hot off the press. Fill in the blank.

No cat has got his Twitter tongue. His tongue is still on Twitter, but likely not for long as a private citizen can be banished. His bite is worse than his bark. He can give you a pandemic with one big cough. That’s what he sneezes at his White House aides.

He can’t read between the lines because he can’t read.

Yes, Donald, it’s true: we are laughing at you, not with you.

Trump’s zebra stripes will never change because they will be part of his prison uniform.

When Trump counts to ten, he stops. And, we will not miss having Donald Trump to kick around.

Borat’s Subsequent Moviejob

 No Monkey on Back?

 DATELINE: Borat’s Bell Ringing

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

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

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

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

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

The world will long note the zingers that never miss.

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

We cannot think of a more worthy political target.

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

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

New Book from Ossurworld

DATELINE: Comedy Tonight! 

When you do movie review blogs for ten years, you soon have quite a backlog of films. Some remain popular year after year. We have never been able to predict which reviews will be favorites of the reading public. 

However, many blogs are read several times during the first week they appear—and thence go into one of those black holes in the center of the galaxy.

We –my tapeworm and I—have decided to gather together some of the lesser read blog reviews under a general heading. We figure out of a pile of thousands, we can find about 100 that are interesting.

So, we began compiling movies according to genre (like suspense, Sherlock Holmes, UFOs,  and the like). 

We were surprised there were a good many comedies. We generally don’t watch those films, or don’t review them. You may not realie that I only print out the films that are largely interesting, well-done, unusual, or seem metaphoric of the era.

When we gathered together Comedy Tonight, it had some of our favorites, and some we had forgotten.  Actually our book on Westerns is selling briskly.  All the reviews are based on some college courses taught years ago in another life as a professor of film studies.

Among the marvelous comedy movies, we found Elaine May’s A New Leaf with Walter Matthau as a fortune hunter going after a millionaire botanist. We recalled The Loved One that featured Liberace and Rod Steiger as funeral directors in a California mortuary. We had forgotten about Follow That Camel  with Phil Silvers playing his alter ego, Sgt. Bilko out in the desert as a foreign legionnaire—or marvelous Peter O’Toole playing a version of Errol Flynn in My Favorite Year.

Oh, yeah, there are a few stinkeroos that we advise you to avoid.

Our reviews always seemed to be in some kind of humor rivalry with the actual film under review. Yet, we think if you want a collection of recommendations, this little volume might do the trick. It’s available, of course, in both e-book and print versions on Amazon.

We prefer the one for smart-readers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s Bugging Voters Most?

Just for Men!

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

Your hair spray will do you in eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

Proud boys may soon become a version of fly boys.

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

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

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

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

Nazis Versus Aliens? Not Exactly

DATELINE: Help from Another Galaxy

A group of people in uniform

Description automatically generated
Von Braun with Nazis

This mishmash uses a title that suggests that the Nazis and space aliens were opponent. However, the film more fittingly states that the visitors from outer space helped the Nazis and supported them. It is a horrid thought that these creatures are not exactly out to help humankind but support letting factions on Earth kill each other.

Here is another misnomer and misleader when it comes to Nazi approval. This time the special from American Heroes Channel, no less, uses a minor connection to Nazi Wonder Weapons to lead into 21sttechnology.

If you are looking for some kind of competition or rivalry between Nazi technology and alien visitors, you won’t find anything like that under the false advertising of this deceptive documentary.

There is some theory espoused that the Nazi scientists were visionaries. Forget any hints that they used concentration camp labor to death to accomplish whatever last minute inventions were in their evil arsenal. Speer and Von Braun are not held accountable.

No attempt is made to delineate Nazism with anything bad, only with progress The so-called experts are young exuberant “journalists” who seem to be salivating over the Nazi “accomplishments.” This film could be endorsed by the Proud Boys as they threaten to kidnap and to kill female governors in the U.S..

But then this execrable doc notes the United States went in a different direction to create the greatest war progress with an atomic bomb. So, right there, you have no connection between the Nazi flying wings and stealth aircraft and American technology.

Then, you throw in the Soviet espionage. Nothing is said of either side capturing , then using former Nazi scientists to jump-start their weapons programs. This film ignores whatever seems to impede its bizarre narrative chronology.

As bad documentaries go, this one has better production values, but worse historical sense and logic. After telling us that the military was flying balloons (the Roswell crash was one) to check on Soviet nuclear explosions. Then, the nation is surprised? 

The show then draws a parallel between Soviet Red Menace and UFOs. Not Nazis. They show photos of Werner von Braun, but glossing over that he was a Nazi scientist. The focus of the program is the Space Race of the 1950s and 1960s, creating Area 51, a cryptic Soviet style base.

This scattershot approach tackles everything.

Add this to the growing list of ahistorical assessments of Nazis by 21stcentury ahistorians. Just appalling.

Jack the Tailor of Beverly Hills

 DATELINE: You Are What You Call Yourself!

 Clothes Make the Man!

Upon first coming across a one-hour documentary on a fashion store in Beverly Hills, we thought it was one of those vanity documentaries, produced by its subject. Jack Taylor was a 90-year old high fashion artist from old Hollywood days.

The film is a tad old, with Taylor gone in 2016 and his main supporter, Mike Douglas, a decade before that. Yet, we are always eager to catch up on our past misgivings.

Jack Taylor hardly needs publicity, and business is dying out as his A-list celebrity patrons pass away. He would soon follow and take an era with him. He was the man who tailored all those magnificent suits worn by Cary Grant from the 1930s till his death. Grant would order a dozen suits at time.

We wondered if there were any celebs who’d go on camera for a commercial appearance—and there were plenty of men: Mike Douglas, Hal Linden, swore by Jack Taylor. Monty Hall wore a different outfit every show on Let’s Make a Deal, all created by Taylor.

He made clothes for Elvis, Sinatra, Charles Bronson, and so many men. He was not easy either. He would tell them not to eat or put on weight. His suits were meant to show them off at their best shape. His most obstreperous client was Jackie Gleason who needed 3 sizes, because of his weight changes over weeks and months.

Taylor would tell them to eat only half the plate at the restaurant. He did not do alterations, or sew the suits. He has a 60-year tailor for that: he has worked for Taylor for sixty years. He’s in his 80s. But both lament there are no tailors any longer.

We are looking at the extinction of men’s fashion. There was no endangered species list: men’s suits and ties were dinosaurs when the political landscape changed its pants.

Clothes for men nowadays are off the rack at best, and China imports at worst. Jack Taylor knows his world of well-dressed men is fading away. He thinks the 1940s were the last gasp, but the war killed it at that point. And, the 1970s turned into a fashion death knell for men’s clothing with jeans and t-shirts as the extent of wardrobe.

We never expected to be fascinated at expensive clothes, being a recluse who never makes public appearances. However, celebrities still know a good suit is essential, but they are going to have a hard time finding anyone to replace jack Taylor.