kvetching and being generally verklempt
Monday, Dec. 19, 2005 at 12:24 p.m.
Here is today�s lesson on What Not to Say and When Not to Say It:
Um, when you�re at least 17 years old and in a wading pool with a bunch of young children, it is NEVER appropriate to scream out loud that you are missing clothing.
Furthermore, if it is something you�re prone to screaming in the high school boy�s locker room while the football and/or basketball and/or wrestling teams are also in there, well, then, you kinda deserve what you get.
Actually, that also stands if you�re screaming that in the girl�s locker room, especially in the presence of the field hockey team.
Speaking of hockey:
Aren�t hockey fans great????
Recently on the Scotvalkyrie�s Movie Screen of Peril (well, this is how the Hubster feels about it):
Head: This piece of tripe was co-written by Jack Nicholson and the Monkees. It was touted (by the filmmakers, at least) as a great romance-war story-anti-war story-satire-comedy-drama-musical. Um, okay. No. What it is is an extended Monkees-romp TV episode apparently written during the supposedly clever throes of extra-curricular inhalants. It seemed to be a vague attempt to bridge some sort of gap to prove themselves appealing to an older and cooler audience yet not have anything that was outside of the parameters of what was considered their normal demagoguery. Nudity, sex, violence, and overt drug use would have made this movie better. Turning off the movie and engaging in your own nudity, sex, violence, and overt drug use *** would make this movie better. I was actually a rather big fan of the Monkees music and television show, but I�m a Believer (heh heh) in the notion that if you�re going to leave your comfort zone, then go the full nine to the point of actual possible death. Simply featuring Frank Zappa in a cameo won�t do that for you, no matter how articulate the cow with Frank is.
***as long as these activites are kept within your acceptable realm of consenting adults as while I may condone such activities, well, I certainly don�t condone you telling me about them. Keep that stuff to yourself, please.
The Damned Don�t Cry: This little boilermaker of a film noir-lite with Joan Crawford is actually quite delightful, and you certainly get a screenful of Joan Crawford doing what she does best, being Joan Crawford. Joan, as Ethel Whitehead, decides to leave her jerkface of a husband in Oil Derrick Hell to seek her fortune, and she gets mixed up in the great world of lies, deceit, gambling, and general mafia activity. This was actually loosely based on the true-life story of a Vegas mobster and his young Beverly Hills socialite girlfriend. Their names, of course, escape me. Joan has some kick-ass dresses and gowns in this.
I don�t think there�s a Hollywood kind like Joan Crawford anymore. You know, one who can stop and start the entire studio on the snap of her fingers, who plays the part of Hollywood STAR 24/7. Who, even on their own time, were the perfect mavens which we all saw on screen. If Joan was having a bad day (and she had lots and lots and lots and lots of them), in general, the public never knew about it. In these days of knowing damned near everything about celebrities, right down to their diaphragm size, I wouldn�t mind not hearing about everything. Note I said celebrities of today, because I really can�t think of a current STAR. I recall recently Shirley McLaine gave Paris Hilton a what-for for calling herself a STAR because she was recently in House of Wax and whatever her lastest installment of her Suck me and Fuck me home movie series is. Look, Paris, you are not a STAR. You�re not even a star. You are a celebrity who got a part in a slasher flick as boobie-laden death fodder.
Speaking of STARS and stars, recently Gregory Peck�s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame was stolen, the fourth star larceny in history. Gregory Peck was a class act, and I�ve written him in before on Presidential ballots. If you�ve been living under a rock and haven�t seen his performance in To Kill a Mockingbird, then do it. I don�t care that you saw it in high school or hate it because someone forced you to read the book. You owe it to yourself to revisit this part of Americana. Then watch The Intruder and try to forget that it was made by Roger Corman and that it stars William Shatner. Then go visit the Civil Rights Museum in Birmingham, Alabama. And wonder why it is that so many people are downright cruel to others for no good reason.
I�m going to step off the highfalutin� soapbox now and restep onto the soapbox o�snark:
Unfortunately, he�s really not my type, in which case, I�d give him beer just to leave me alone.
On the other hand, what would he do if you gave him a wine spritzer??