DATELINE: Believe It or Not
Gronk is going small.
Instead of signing a contract to play the next James Bond (not as far-fetched as it seems), Gronk has decided to tackle the small screen as a series host on cable television.
Celebrities as hosts of paranormal shows is standard, but Gronk intends to be the star of Crashletes, a show that cheaply will take YouTube moments of young athletes in bone-crushing moments of hilarity. It’s right up his alley.
The show will demand that Gronk use all his wit and wisdom to comment on the clips that will be shown on the Nickolodeon network, indicating that Gronk’s audience will be voters in about ten years. And Gronk does not need to wear zebra stripe pants to find attention.
This should mean when Gronk is ready to go big screen, his young followers will have the means and motives to follow him. We would not be surprised to see Gronk run for president in 2028. If Trump can do it, so can Gronk.
Gronk has clearly found his métier in the show business realm. He has done various talk shows as a personality, and his TV commercials are always entertaining. He calls himself one-take Gronkowski because he hits his marks and never flubs (who could tell the difference?) when he performs.
We have always contended that Gronk’s movie career as a kind of Terminator is down the road after he plays out being a tight end for New England. Already he has expanded his fan base far beyond New England, football, and youngsters.
The only impediment would be a stint in AA, but come to think of it—that has never been an impediment in show business.
DATELINE: Way Outted West
Fops Out West
You probably have seen the newly confirmed photo of Billy the Kid.
He was the sociopathic killer and dime novel hero of the great American West. As a dangerous desperado who shot 21 people down, at his minimal serial killer standard, he may have taken a hit to his image with the discovery of his picture playing croquet.
A few people have hinted that now it is clear that Billy was a pantywaist who murdered people to bolster his gun size. Others think he proves that the Old West was not a home for fashion plates.
The subject of 200+ movies, Billy wears a cardigan sweater like a Yalie on holiday at the dude ranch, the Yves Saint Laurent devotee looking like a fish out of water. We can hardly wait for the updated Billy western where he plies his wares with a croquet mallet.
Billy would not have passed muster as a model for Abercrombie and Fitch. His chin is big enough to hang a kettle on, and his acne seems to defy the New Mexico sunlight.
Of course, the news accounts are slightly wrong. There is at least one other photo of Billy, though some still dispute it, but the same points of facial recognition have been counted. He was not the most handsome of young men. And if you are not good-looking at 21, time has run out on the star meter.
Many are making a great deal of noise over the croquet mallet, which easily could become a club and weapon of choice in a robbery while playing the game most favored by matrons of elite 19th century leisure.
Imagine adding hustler to the litany of Billy’s crimes. Billy’s gang of male escorts? That’s why we love Americana.