Friday, February 17, 2017


Note: This is NOT a rant against transgender people. I support transgender causes and I believe that trans people have the right to live safely and freely as the gender they feel themselves to be. I also have transgender friends in Minneapolis, and could not imagine any of them aligning themselves with trolls like the ones who apparently comprise this GAG group. Furthermore, I don't believe the people who staged this protest--particularly the "very tall, loud person" described below--are actually transgender. I believe the group that put on this pathetic display at the Vancouver Women's Library is not a genuine part of the transgender community. In fact, it would appear that GAG is nothing more than a dangerous fringe group; basically the secular equivalent of the Westboro Baptist Church. Like the WBC, GAG seems to be a bunch of idiotic, rage-filled trolls who get their jollies by behaving like fascist bullies.

The Vancouver Women's Library--a volunteer-run feminist organization dedicated to promoting and continuing the legacy of women-run bookstores, presses and libraries--were met with a group of hostile protesters at their official opening on Friday, February 3. According to Guerilla Feminist Collective, "the protesters held signs and shouted at people entering the space. They poured wine over the books. They smoked inside when asked not to. They pulled the fire alarm. Some of them tried to bar--then pushed--women entering the space. As far as we saw, men were left alone to come and go as they pleased." (That last sentence, as you'll see, is rather telling.)

So who the hell were these protesters? Hateful alt-right activists? Nazis? MRA's? Nope. The protesters who showed up at the library to disrupt the opening, threaten (female) patrons and destroy property were members of a group of queer activists who call themselves GAG--"Gays Against Gentrification." 

Image taken from
Destroying books? Seriously? That is some Hitler-level shit right there.

One of the library's patrons took a video of these destructive little pukes, and posted it online. The video was available up until Saturday 2/11, but it has mysteriously disappeared from Vimeo as of Sunday 2/12. (Gee, wonder who was responsible for that?) Luckily, the excellent blog Butterflies and Wheels provided a detailed description* of what went down. BTW, I watched the video when it was still up, and I found the play-by-play below to be 100% accurate.

FYI....the "very tall loud person" referenced several times in the description below is (reportedly) a GAG "activist" named J---- ehrm, make that "Mason Biatch." Yes, I fumbled his name a bit because I don't want him googling himself and finding his way here. I have an intense hatred of trolls and will not stand for their shit on my blog.

The hat-less person underneath the yellow sign? Yeah. THAT ONE.
Also, lying on the floor towards the bottom left side of the pic,
you can see the poster that he ripped off the wall.

A description of the protest (from Butterflies and Wheels):
The very tall loud person tears down a poster, and several people cry “Get out!” The very tall loud person does not get out.
About 2:40 The person with bangs next to the very tall loud person says “No SWERFs! No TERFs!” 
The very tall loud person immediately shouts “NO FUCKING TERFS in this FUCKING NEIGHBORHOOD.”
At this point talk becomes general, and less shouty…until at 3:00 the very tall loud person says with loud emphasis “BECAUSE WE DON’T WANT YOU IN OUR FUCKING SPACES.”
Women from the library gather in front of the very tall loud person (who looms over them) and the very tall loud person shouts at them.
At about 3:45 the very tall loud person bellows at them “NO YOU’RE ATTACKING THE WRONG FUCKING PEOPLE.”
The conversation goes on, mostly centered on the very tall loud person. Whenever very tall loud person talks louder (which is often), TLP also flails an arm up and down for emphasis – and, perhaps, for intimidation. That may be unconscious, or it may not.
About 4:40 – again with the very tall loud person shouting and flailing the hand up and down, inches from the face of one of the library women. No, I don’t think that can be unconscious.
5:12 the very tall loud person shouts into a woman’s face: “I’M A WOMAN.”
Okay, the very tall loud person says at the beginning “as a trans person” and a bit later “you said I’m not a real woman.”
At 5:12 the very tall loud person spells it out (by shouting into a woman’s face). But here’s the thing: the trans woman is carrying on exactly like an angry entitled bullying man with no scruples about bullying women. The trans woman is carrying on like Donald Trump. Isn’t it interesting how this particular kind of “activism” apparently functions as permission for large people with loud voices to do that? Isn’t it interesting that this “woman” has zero inhibitions about using typically male advantages of size and voice volume to bully and berate women? 

*The full account of the video is available here --

As if that hideous display wasn't enough, the same half-wit thugs came back a week later and spray painted anti-feminist slurs on the building that houses the Vancouver Women's Library. 

More details here: Vancouver Illiteracy Project
This "GAG" group is trying to argue that they aren't welcome in "feminist spaces" because they're transgender (again, I call bullshit on any of them even being transgender). The truth is that they make themselves unwelcome by acting like violent, misogynistic dickheads. And people who act like that should be not be welcome anywhere.

In the words of a commenter on B and W:
"Wouldn’t everyone benefit from more places serving under-served or vulnerable groups? Go start your own! How does it make sense to bully the people (i.e. The Vancouver Women's Library) who created something because they didn’t create it to your specifications?"
WORD. Transgender libraries should exist. Transgender spaces should exist. Additionally, if a hateful little fringe group like "GAG" wants to start its own library, they should fucking GO DO IT. But they should not be allowed to vandalize a building, destroy its books, and act all confrontational and intimidating towards peaceful feminists. I'll say it once more, with feeling: Trolls like the ones who make up "GAG" should not be welcome in feminist spaces, or anywhere else. They sure as hell have no place in my world. 

And "Mason Biatch" can go fuck himself sideways.

Friday, January 20, 2017


All images above from The New Yorker, except for this one right here:  

(I was messing around with the Photo Editor app last night.) 

Monday, January 16, 2017


You know how Herr Cheeto mocked Hillary for having all these A-list superstars (Beyonce, Lady Gaga, George Clooney, etc.) going to bat for her, and how he tried to say he didn't "need" the support of those heavy hitters because he wanted a low-key, dignified celebration of America and American values or whatever? 

Yeah, not buying that for a second.

Seeing as how Donald Trump was, is, and always will be the most egregious famewhore who ever famewhored, the ONLY thing that matters to him is getting his bitter orange ass sucked by the cream of the crop, the most famous of the famous, the best of the best.

And he has to settle for Chachi Arcola from Happy Days and Jagger from General Hospital

Meanwhile, Hillary would've easily scored Richie Cunningham 
and Mick Jagger without breaking a sweat. 
That sort of schadenfruede is the only thing that's cheering me up about this whole mess. That, and the fact that Trump's narcissism is the only thing holding him together. I mean, when even right-wing douchetard Gene Simmons declines an offer to perform, you know The Great Pumpkin has gotta be like an ass hair away from suffering a giant orange meltdown. 

So it seems that at least he's getting the inauguration that he deserves. Cold comfort for sure, but in times like these you gotta take what you can get. 

Thursday, January 12, 2017


Many thanks to my friend Natalie S., who provided the original inspiration for this post. 

Paul Ryan has the countenance and wit of a guy who has been browbeaten, emasculated and humiliated by every significant female figure in his life.  

You know the guy, or--if you don't know him--you know the stereotype. The guy who's always on his cell phone having this sort of conversation with his wife: 

"Hey hon? I can't stay home with Kaitlynn and Dakota on Sunday. Remember, I was going to go over to Dave's house to watch the game? I did tell you. No, I did. But--it's the Super Bowl. You don't remember?" *Sigh*........................................"Yes, I'm still here. Yes. Yes. Right. Okay. Sure. No, I'm not mad. I'm not. I'm not. That's fine. That's fine. I'm fine with that. That's fine. You go have your spa day with Jenn and Jess. I'll just....I'll take the kids to Chuck E. Cheese or something. Maybe they'll have the game on there." *Presses palm into forehead.* "Right. Okay. Okay. Okay. I told you I'm not mad. I'm not. I'm not. All right. See you when I get home. Okay. Okay. Okay. Goodbye."    

Consequently, he makes this face a lot....

"No, really--I'm fine with that. It's fine. Everything's fine."

In a perfect world, Paul Ryan would still be living in Janesville, Wisconsin, working in middle management, shuttling his preciously-named kids around in a minivan, quietly resenting his wife, and clearing the cache on his browser every night so his "better half" doesn't find out that he jerks it to babysitter porn at every possible opportunity.

But alas, the little pindick is in Washington where at this very moment he is working tirelessly to push legislation that restricts access to abortion, birth control, cancer screenings, and anything else he can think of to shit all over women's healthcare and reproductive rights.

I prefer alternate universe Paul Ryan, the one stuck in Janesville with a passive aggressive, boner-killing wife. I even feel a tiny bit sorry for that version of him. 

But not this guy. Fuck this guy.


*according to a source who really hopes she's not related to him.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

So another voice from my childhood is gone. 

I wasn't one of those teenage girls getting hot flashes over George Michael back in high school. I mean, I thought he was handsome and charismatic and talented and had a great voice and everything, but his 1987 Faith album was so huge when I was in high school--one single after another released for like a solid two years--that by 1989 I was all Faith-ed out. I also didn't have much time for the stuff in the Top 40, since sometime around 1988 (freshman year of high school) I had followed Duran Duran down the musical rabbit hole that led me to discover darker, edgier artists and I became hooked on bands like The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, Siouxie, The Smiths, and early Blondie. 

But then Listen Without Prejudice Vol. 1 came out. The first single, "Freedom" (the famous one with the supermodels in the video) was released during my junior year of high school, and--while I really dug that song--it wasn't until the beginning of my senior year in September 1991 when I first heard the excellent "Waiting For That Day" that I reconsidered my foolish notions about George Michael being "too commercial" for my taste and developed a new appreciation for him. 

Every time I listen to it, it feels the same as it did when I first heard it at age 17. It just devastates me. 

Something I just can't explain
Something in me needs this pain
I know I'll never see your face again

Years later (1998-ish) when my sister and I shared an apartment for a few years and she had his Ladies and Gentlemen: The Best of George Michael double album, I started to get sort of obsessed with his musical catalog. While no amount of time could make me feel nostalgic about "I Want Your Sex" (I've always thought that song was corny as hell and, like, the opposite of sexy) I found that I started to take a liking to some of those old songs from Faith, like the title track and--especially--"Kissing a Fool."  

And going further back to that period of post-Wham, pre-Faith, there was "A Different Corner," which George said was not a song about the end of a big, sweeping love affair. Rather, the lyrics were inspired by the sort of relationship that comes out of nowhere; one of those super-intense, short-lived flings that leaves you completely shattered and bewildered and wondering what the hell just happened when it's over. I think we've all been there at some point. 

There is a glaring omission on that "Best of" album, a Wham song that I think has always gotten short shrift--the 1986 single "The Edge of Heaven,"--so much better than "I'm Your Man," the other Wham single from the same time period with an almost identical video that somehow people seem to favor. But they're all wrong. "Edge of Heaven" is the jam.

But enough pontificating. George Michael is gone, and it sucks. It's gotten to be a cliche that 2016 is killing all these great artists, but as the saying goes, cliches are only cliches because they're true. 

Thursday, December 22, 2016

"And so this is Christmas, 
And what have we done?"

Well John and Yoko, I'll tell you what "we" have done: we oops--the electoral college went and installed a reality show trainwreck to run the country into the ground. 

Happy Christmas! 

But I'm not here to talk about Herr Combover and his VP, The Antichrist. I'm sure I'll have plenty more to say about them in the coming months, but right now I'm trying not to think about January 20th. 

Right now, at this moment in time, Obama is still the president and we have a whole twenty-nine days left of his administration before Armageddon. So let's enjoy it while we can! Crack open the eggnog, raise a glass, and let's party like it's 2016 because--to paraphrase Prince (RIP)--"They say two thousand-one-seven party over, oops! Out of time."


Anyhoo, here's a Christmas song. It's not what you'd call festive, but it's a damn good song, and The Killers are such a kick-ass band that I continue to be amazed and incredibly thankful that they're still around and making real music in a world where an untalented hack like Kanye West is considered a "genius" and a recycled Britney Spears knockoff like Katy Perry is considered an "artist." And the video stars Owen Wilson, a truly underrated and underutilized actor who needs to stop making crap Ben Stiller comedies and stick to Wes Anderson movies where he can shine (to be fair, they were in The Royal Tennenbaums together and that was brilliant, but that was also Wes Anderson. But I digress. Again.). 

Merry Christmas, or "Happy Holidays" as we liberal types like to say when we want to piss off the Sean Hannitys of the world. 


Wednesday, November 09, 2016

"Save me from tomorrow...."

We're setting sail to the place on the map
From which no one has ever returned
Drawn by the promise of the joker and the fool
By the light of the crosses that burned
Drawn by the promise of the women and the lace
And the gold and the cotton and pearls
It's the place where they keep all the darkness you need
You sail away from the light of the world on this trip, baby
You will pay tomorrow
You're gonna pay tomorrow
You will pay tomorrow
Oh, oh, oh
Save me, save me from tomorrow
I don't want to sail with this ship of fools, no, no
Oh, save me, save me from tomorrow
I don't want to sail with this ship of fools, no, no
I want to run and hide right now
Avarice and greed are gonna drive you over the endless sea
They will leave you drifting in the shallows
Or drowning in the oceans of history
Traveling the world, you're in search of no good
But I'm sure you'll build your Sodom like you knew you would
Using all the good people for your galley slaves
As you're little boat struggles through the warning waves, but you don't pay
You will pay tomorrow
You're gonna pay tomorrow, yeah
You're gonna pay tomorrow
Save me, save me from tomorrow
I don't want to sail with this ship of fools, no, no, no
Save me, save me from tomorrow
I don't want to sail with this ship of fools
Where's it comin' from?
Oh, where's it goin' to?
It's just a, it's just a ship of fools
All aboard....

Tuesday, November 08, 2016

Donald Trump is a Fart in a Mitten

Yeah I don't know what that means either, but I remember someone writing that about Paris Hilton back when she was a thing, and I thought it was funny. 

I also wrote that because there is a fairly good chance that someday DJT himself will stumble upon the phrase "DONALD TRUMP IS A FART IN A MITTEN," because if there's one bitch who stays up Googling himself at 3am, it's The Donald. That's a proven fact.

I was watching a clip of some rabid Trump supporters last night, and something dawned on me. It wasn't a particularly smart or insightful revelation, but here it is: Remember when Charlie Sheen had his public psychotic break a few years ago, and he had that disturbing fanbase of aging fratty white dudes cheering him on?  

This is all I could find on Google for "Charlie Sheen fans."
Still, I feel like it's a pretty fair representation. 

And these douchebro types were all like, "WOO HOO! Finally a guy who says what I think!"

An example of Charlie saying what they're thinking: 

"Ugly wives?" "Loser lives?" Ummmm......America? Does that sound like anyone else we know? 

I guess what I'm saying is--seriously, America--don't do it, don't fucking elect this blathering orange turd. And don't you dare be a dick and vote for Gary Johnson or do a write-in vote for your penis or whatever. VOTE FOR HILLARY. Stop crying about Bernie Sanders not getting the nomination. I don't care that Hillary is not who you want, because guess what? You know who I want to be President?

I want Simon Le Bon. Yep. I want Simon Le Bon to be President and Debbie Harry to be Vice President and the two of them can come to my house and bring me a pony and then Simon and Debbie can fly me around in a helicopter and we can wave at everyone and throw Duran Duran albums and candy to the adoring throngs below and land on the roof of the White House and have a picnic and both Simon and Debbie will tell me that I'm their favorite author ever and that they're going to declare Thanks, That Was Fun, like, the National Novel of America, whatever that is (I assume it's a special honor they'll create just for me) and that they want me to help them make all the important decisions and come to all the fancy White House dinners and help pass a law that requires everyone everywhere to become vegan. 

Also, there are unicorns.

Pictured: America under a Le Bon presidency. And that's the castle where John and I live with all our rescue cats.
 Plus my pony.

Realistically, however, that's not going to happen this time around. Maybe in another four years, who knows. But this election? I voted for Hillary.

And now here comes the obligatory video that every Duranie posts on election day. But for me, it has a deeper meaning (see above). 

Because Bon. SIMON Le Bon.

"Hi guys, by the way..."

Tuesday, August 02, 2016


Ever hear of real estate porn? This is hiking porn. Or mountain porn. Or...okay, maybe I'd better stop with the porn comparisons because if we're going by Rule 34, there is most definitely some kind of outdoorsy mountain folk backpacker porn (in the literal sense) in existence and I don't want to know about it. 

But whatever. Here are some cool pictures from my latest hike at Sessions Mountain/Holbrook Canyon.

Going up--my favorite part--because I've discovered how tricky it is to descend steep mountain trails

"Up, up, up, can only go up from here..."
(Yes I'm quoting Shania Twain)

This is my second favorite shot

This is my favorite-favorite shot

Getting there....

"On the top of the world, looking down on creation...."

Getting over a lifelong fear of heights

Back at the bottom and rock hunting at the stream that winds through the canyon

There are quite a few log bridges that cross the stream at various points. It reminded me of that scene in Dirty Dancing with Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. I resisted the urge to break into dance. 
I was too busy trying to stay upright. 

Yes, there are bears on and around the mountain, one of many reasons I'm joining a local hiking club. Traveling in a pack, it's less likely I'll end up bear chow when I'm but one of many options in the bear buffet to choose from (as opposed to traipsing along solo and becoming a potential ursine appetizer).

I'm a big fan of Wild (the book and the film) but it wasn't until moving to Utah that I really "got it," the whole rugged mountain hiking camping fever. My Dad was a big backpacker and hiker in his younger years, so maybe it's in my genes after all. 

Friday, June 24, 2016

I read it in the papers, I see it on my TV....

The UK breaking up? 
The EU in a state of flux?
Donald Trump is still a thing?

Wednesday, June 22, 2016


And before you assume that I'm just a typical "librul" who's going to blame the Orlando massacre on the NRA and guns....well, it's not that simple. Yes, I hate guns and the NRA and--perhaps most of all--the NRA-fellating politicians who made yet another mass shooting possible, but my hate doesn't stop there. I hate Omar Mateen with the fire of a thousand suns, and I don't know why people act like you can't be against the religious fanatics AND the gun-fuckers. See, I can hate both: radical extremists who kill in the name of their shitty backwards medieval ideologies (and I'm not only talking about Muslim extremists here; ever hear of a murderous little Christian cuntrag called Eric Rudolph?) and I--as always--despise Wayne LaPierre and ALL of his whores in Washington who issue statements sending "thoughts and prayers" to victims of mass shootings (HEY ASSHOLES, WE'RE NOT PAYING YOU TO "PRAY"!) while doing absolutely not a goddamn thing at all because there's nothing more important than that sweet, sweet gun lobby money.

But again, I want to assure all my fellow tree-hugging liberal types that it's perfectly fine to hate that (now dead) festering hemorrhoid named Omar Mateen. Really, it's okay. Look at the facts and tell me you can't hate his nasty, selfie-obsessed troglodyte ass:
Okay, being a moron isn't as bad as being an abusive, racist, homophobic religious extremist murderer, but I'm really sick of stupid people, even though stupid people aren't inherently evil (usually).

Now, let me issue my own statement to All-American Joe Gun-Fucker who's worried that this Mooslim shooter is going to spoil all the fun for him and the rest of his buddies at the rifle range: 

Dear Joe, 

Rest assured, Obama (unfortunately) does not want to take your guns. But I do. Yes, this little peace-loving, tree-hugging feminist hippie wants to take that AR-15 assault rifle you love so much and help you to "know" that instrument of death in a Biblical way, specifically by shoving it sideways up your poopshaft and forcing you to sing Lady Gaga's "I Like It Rough" at the top of your lungs. 

Then, you will recite the following statements with that loaded weapon buried deep inside your rectum: 

"Feel the Bern!"
"Black Lives Matter!" 
"Donald Trump Blows Goats!"

After that intimate experience, you will no longer have time to worry about the libruls taking away your guns. In fact, after the surgical removal of said weapon from your love canal, you will be too busy nursing your prolapsed anus for the rest of your natural life to trouble your simple little mind with issues of gun legislation. But look at the upside: You get to spend the remainder of your days in bed watching Duck Dynasty

See, everybody wins! 

I leave you with these truths, which I hold to be self-evident, that all gun-loving psychos are pretty much created equal.....


Monday, June 06, 2016


Remember this asshole?

Note: I wrote this up a few months ago, but since then I've been so consumed with our move (hello, Utah!) that it got shelved for a bit. However, today--June 6--happens to be Simon Reid's birthday, so what a perfect time to post this, no? This date has stuck in my head not for sentimental reasons, but for how apropos it is that this sociopath was unleashed upon the world on 6/6/66. Not only does he bear the mark of the beast, he is the beast.  

After all these years, I still get numerous comments and emails regarding my original Simon Reid post from way back in 2008. Most of the messages are along the lines of "Saw your story on TV, glad you guys nailed that dickweed," etc, but a lot of them--especially over the past year--have been people checking in to report their own encounters with Simon.

According to the latest scoop, Simon Reid is now living in Spain and hanging out with British and American tourists hiking the Camino de Santiago, which is a Catholic pilgrimage-type trail that winds through part of Spain. Apparently Martin Sheen made a movie about it a few years back, and the trail has seen a surge in visitors since then.

Anyhoo, the first I heard about Simon's Spanish exploits was when I got an email last summer from a very nice young couple in Texas who had just returned from Spain, where they'd hiked the Camino trail and spent some time hanging out with a friendly Brit named Simon Reid who claimed to be a "retired surgeon" (hahahahahahaha--oh, my sides) who had come to the Camino trail to connect with his spiritual side, or something. He had a woman with him, of course, but the nature of their relationship was unclear. (From what the Texas couple said, I got that this was yet another girlfriend Simon was stringing along.) For authentication, they attached a photo of themselves posing with Simon and his mark outside of a cafe.

The most recent report I've gotten is an email from a woman who (from what I can deduce) was tentatively involved with Simon for a short time while visiting Spain in March 2016, but was scared right off the lot when she Googled his name and found out all the dirt on his sketchy lying ass.

Among the torrent of bullshit he fed this would-be girlfriend? 
  • He claimed to be a retired British commando sniper-turned-trauma surgeon who served in Afghanistan. 
  • He claimed to have developed a form of leukemia caused by removing thousands of plutonium tipped bullets from patients. 
  • Oh, and he has a maths degree from Oxford.
Excuse me for a minute. 


It's the sheer audacity of Simon's ridiculous bullshit stories that has me amused; I am not making fun of this girlfriend, or anyone else who has been swindled (emotionally or financially) by Simon Reid. No one knows better than I do how frighteningly adept this fuckhandle is at winning your confidence and portraying himself as a chivalrous, fun, self-deprecating, honorable man. He's a textbook pathological liar who is excellent at reading, assessing, and exploiting people. Although he's never quite successful in the end--as long as there is an internet he will continue to be exposed for the vile fraud that he is--but Simon doesn't play the long game, anyway. He's not the type of conman who slowly and surely gains your trust over a period of time. The guy plays the numbers and he always has several schemes (and women) going at once, and his pattern shows that he will always cut and run once he realizes that his marks are onto him, leaving everyone in the dust. No goodbyes, no explanations, no apologies. Just a shitload of hideous LIES.

So for anyone reading this who has been done in by Simon Reid, whether he's "borrowed" (stolen) money or fucked you over emotionally (he likes to do both whenever possible), please remember:
  • He is a cold, calculating individual who feels no remorse for the people he harms
  • He has a long, long, long history of victimizing those who are close to him, including two ex-wives, countless girlfriends, and even his own parents and children 
  • He is an evil asswipe
  • It's not your fault
Lastly--for the sake of your own mental, emotional, physical, and financial safety--RUN, DON'T WALK far, far, far away from his damaged, broken, sketchball ass.

And now, an important message from Billy Joel....

A digression: this is the good Billy Joel. You can tell, because of his hair. (Ever notice that when Billy Joel got rid of the Jewfro, his songs started sucking balls? It's like his mighty Jewfro gave him all his songwriting powers. Then he had to go and cut it off and his music went straight down the toilet.) Actually, I think Pressure was post-Jewfro, so maybe that song is the one exception to the rule. Now that was a cool-ass video. I love the part where he's at that cocktail party and the lady goes flying sideways into that doorway full of milk and Billy gets sucked down into the carpet. Lots of cocaine went into the making of that one, I'm guessing. 

But it was so totally worth it.      


If you have your own Simon Reid sightings or stories, please tell all in the comments (or email me if you don't want to share publicly). Keep spreading the word. Let's warn Simon Reid's future paramours, landlords, employers, "business" partners, and anyone else who Googles his name.

Knowledge = power.  

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Sometimes It Snows in April

Damn, it just doesn't feel real, does it? The headline "Prince Dies at 57" still does not compute, and it's freaky to even type that. I had the same issue with Bowie's death. It's like both Prince and Bowie were sort of these ethereal figures--almost supernatural--like it was just sort of understood that the rules of the universe did not apply to them. They were on a higher plane than the rest of us mortals. 

My writer buddy Dan Kennedy said it best: 

As shocked as I was by Bowie's passing, the fact that Prince is gone just seems harder to fathom somehow. My friend Marcus posted on FB that although both deaths were a huge shock, Prince hits closer to home (for Gen-Xer's like us) because, growing up in the '80s, Prince was "our guy." I totally agree. 

"Little Red Corvette" (1982) was the first Prince song I remember being aware of. I recall my sister and other "big kids" really digging it, but I was just sort of neutral (also, at nine years old I was more obsessed with horses than current pop music). Then in 1984-85 there was an amazing explosion of artists and albums that coincided with that sort of musical awakening a lot of kids have at around 11 or 12 years old and I discovered Duran Duran, Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Michael Jackson and Prince--specifically the Purple Rain soundtrack--which blew my mind. 

I saw Purple Rain (the movie) when it premiered on HBO in the summer of 1985. It was so dark and "adult" that it's funny to think of my little 12-year-old self watching that. I mean, my family (along with everyone else in our neighborhood) had gotten premium cable a few years earlier, and it was a big thing for us neighbor kids to secretly try to catch "the dirty parts" of movies like Porky's and Fast Times at Ridgemont High (or if we were feeling really brave, one of the Friday the 13th movies) when we were at each other's houses. But Purple Rain was a lot racier than the typical teen sex films of that era, so I'm pretty sure it was one of those movies I sneaked out to the living room to watch at like 2am while my mom and stepdad were sleeping. That was something I got really good at: creeping into the living room and turning on the TV so it was barely audible and sitting like five inches from the screen so I could hear the movie while simultaneously listening for my mom in case she woke up. (In the event that she did, I would switch off the TV, race into the kitchen, and pour myself a glass of milk so it would look like I'd just gotten up to get a drink. Back in the day, we had to be really creative with stuff like that. I think kids today have it a lot easier, they can just watch whatever they want to on their smart phones and their parents probably don't have a clue.)      

Speaking of access, everyone knows by now how impossible it is to find Prince clips on YouTube; the only ones that exist seem to be live performances from award shows (which are awesome, admittedly), and the only Purple Rain clips viewable online are the ones from the trailer.

I guess this is indicative of how many times I've seen Purple Rain over the last 30 years (um, a lot), because there are a few little flashes of scenes I don't recognize: 

00:28 -- Apollonia in a barn? WTF was that? 
00:51 -- Prince getting smacked around by his dad (I think?) at what looks like a rehearsal space?

Marcus, help me you remember any of this? I'm also unsure about the snippet with the cop car driving by Morris and Jerome. I'm guessing they were deleted scenes, but I want your opinion. 

Anyway, Prince is gone, and it sucks. I have more to write on this subject but I'm still getting my head together. 

(Psst...looks like someone posted the video for Take Me With U in the past few days, but it will probably get yanked ASAP, maybe by the time this goes up.) 

Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Fuck HBO for cancelling this show. 

When Togetherness debuted last year, I wasn't all that interested. The previews made it look like a grown-up rip-off of Girls (a show that I continue to love, even for all its flaws) only instead of navel-gazing Brooklynites it's a navel-gazing couple and their two slacker friends. But then I checked out a few episodes and damned if Togetherness didn't suck me right in. 

Season two has been even better than season one, kicking things up a notch as shlubby struggling actor Alex (male slacker friend) lands a movie role as a "sexy vampire," which is so off-the-wall for that character that it kind of works.....

Yes, this dude as a middle-aged Lestat in a ruffled shirt. So wrong, yet so right.

Michelle confesses her one night stand to Brett, and he responds by barfing in her lap....

Then Alex and Brett take off for a "lost weekend" in Detroit....

And there's the episode where Tina creates a distraction at the fundraiser party by bursting into an awesome rendition of Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" so Michelle can snoop in that weird chick Anna's email....

I had no idea Amanda Peet was this funny. 

And UGH! Seriously, why is HBO cancelling this show?!?!?

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!

I'm a bit behind, but I wanted to comment on Episode 6, the Marcia Clark-centered installment of the People V. OJ . Kudos to the writers for providing a window into the nastiness Marcia Clark had to deal with from all sides in regards to her appearance, because even in a supposedly progressive decade like the 1990's, the most important aspects of a powerful female public figure were still her hair, her clothes, her "likability," and precious little else.

It's another aspect of that freakshow trial that they got right; I totally remember seeing a clip of that whore Lance Ito making bitchy comments about Marcia's hair from his perch on the bench. (Seriously, when will men learn not to pick on a woman's hair? Especially when most males are so severely lacking in the follicle department?)

Because if anyone is qualified to rate someone else's looks, it's this hunka-hunka burnin' love.
(Is this Lance's version of "blue steel?")

Marcia should have fired back, "Oh hey Lance, nice work on the comb-over today! You almost managed to cover up that bald spot." Then she should have pointed at OJ and shouted, all lawyer-y and indignant, "YOU! Wipe that smirk off your face before I come over there and do it for you. And Johnnie? Bite my lily-white ass." Of course, she wouldn't have said any of that in court, but I'm sure she was thinking it every damn day of the trial and undoubtedly launched into daily profanity-laden rants about Ito, OJ, and that whole slimy defense team to her friends and colleagues behind closed doors. According to the book the series is based on, Jeffrey Toobin's The Run of His Life (which I read last week. A bit slow in the middle, but otherwise a good read. As dense as it was, I ripped through it pretty quickly), Marcia swore like a longshoreman, chain-smoked Dunhills, and had a hot fling with Christopher Darden. She was more of a bad ass than any of those bitches on the defense team. In fact, she could have totally eaten them all for breakfast and picked her teeth with Cochran's bones, but she was so hamstrung by the gross, sexist atmosphere created by the media and all those assholes at the OJ table, who I believe were secretly petrified of her.

And don't even get me started on that washed-up boozebag F. Lee Bailey and his lame courtroom reference to his lap hog in the midst of all the glove-trying-on shenanigans, trying to awkwardly imply that his own hands were also too big to fit those stupid gloves. (And how ironic that this episode aired just days after Trump made a similar joke during the Republican debate. What is it with these elderly white males and their penis obsessions? Whatever.) And what was with his crack that "(Marcia's) eyesight is as bad as her memory?" Was he implying that she failed to recognize his alpha male virility because she hadn't gotten any in such a long time? Girl, please. M.C. was getting more action than anyone in that courtroom. And unlike F. Lee Bailey, she never had to pay for it.  Marcia should have shut down old F-LeeBay by calling his bluff: "Well whip it out then, whisky dick, and let's see what you got!"

I do love Nathan Lane as F-Lee. Another stroke of genius casting.

Friday, March 04, 2016

People V. OJ Ep 5

Holy shit, I totally remember this! 

I've been wondering about this Hodgman character and waiting to see if the show would address his sudden absence from the trial, because it's one of the incidents I remember quite well. 

Turns out, yep--they did! But in a totally melodramatic it-didn't-really-happen-that-way fashion. 

In the show, they had John Hodgman (Marcia Clark's litigating partner) suffer a heart attack and dramatically keel over right there in court after getting all pissed off at the defense (specifically, Johnny Cochran). Watching that scene, I actually shouted "Bullshit!" at the TV, because I didn't remember it going down like that. Turns out, I was right.  

From Vanity Fair: 
According to Toobin, it was during a closed-door meeting among Clark, Hodgman, and D.A. Gil Garcetti, after the opening statements, in which the discovery failures were revealed and where Hodgman started to feel chest pains. Paramedics were called and he was treated for a temporary stress condition, which did result in his stepping down from the case.
From a writer's perspective, I can see why they took some license with that, even if it was a bit over the top.

Here's what I remember...

The first week of the OJ trial, I was sitting in class talking with my friend Heidi and some other people from school,* and someone mentioned that one of the prosecuting attorneys in the Simpson case had been rushed to the hospital with chest pains the day before. That's when my classmate Cindy said disdainfully, "Yeah, he's having chest pains because he's lying! He knows he's lying!"

It's worth pointing out here that Cindy--a "good ole girl" from Texas--had an African American fiance and two bi-racial children. Cindy was cool; extremely blunt, very funny, and a blast to hang out with (she was part of a group of us who would sometimes high-tail it over to the nearby Chi-Chi's for nachos and margaritas at lunchtime), although she was obviously one of those "OJ is innocent!" people, a stance that I think had something to do with the fact that she was a white woman living in the black community.

The racial tension surrounding the OJ case is something that is definitely not exaggerated for the sake of the show, as it was a very real and very unfortunate aspect of the whole thing. It couldn't be avoided, especially in LA circa 1994-95, when the LA riots following the Rodney King verdict had happened just a few years prior. It's easy to see why the defense team played the race card like they did. Were they dirty opportunistic shyster assholes for doing so? Oh hell yeah. But still, it was pretty much a no-brainer. Of course they'd make it all about race, especially when Mark Fuhrman made it so damn easy. That's why I totally believe the scene where Christopher Darden tells Cochran he hopes they can be respectful to one another in the press, and Cochran goes, "Brother, I ain't trying to be respectful. I'm trying to win." It's another moment comes off a bit melodramatic, but--even if it didn't happen--it totally seems like it would have.

    Oh, just kiss him already.

On another note, I think Robert Morse is perfect as Dominick Dunne. I always get so excited when actors from Mad Men pop up on TV shows and movies.  

Burt Cooper!!!

The dialogue in the judge's chambers where Ito says something like, "I know you have a special interest in this case because of your daughter's murder" was a bit ham-fisted but I guess it was necessary because at this point most people probably wouldn't know or remember that his daughter, actress Dominique Dunne (she played Dana, the older sister in Poltergeist) was strangled by her ex-boyfriend in 1982. Trivia: her murderer, a chef named John Sweeney, really did get off with a ridiculously light sentence (6 1/2 years, and he served only 3 1/2) and soon after his release got a job as head chef at a fancy restaurant in Santa Monica. Upon learning of this, Dunne and his family decided to serve up some Goldman-style realness, standing outside the restaurant handing out flyers that read "The food you will eat tonight was cooked by the hands that killed Dominique Dunne." Soon after that, Sweeney quit his job and left town.

Dominique Dunne in Poltergeist

In yet another strange Hollywood murder coincidence, Marcia Clark was the attorney who prosecuted Robert Bardo, the crazy stalker famous for killing actress Rebecca Schaeffer in 1989. At least in that one, Clark was able to send the scumbag down the river (he got life without parole). I've read a lot about that case, and it's super creepy. One of the things that surprised me was how young Robert Bardo was--only 19 years old--when he killed Schaeffer. You wouldn't think that to look at him, because dude looks at least 35 in photos from the trial, but I guess all that crazy can age a person. By the way, I'm too superstitious to post a photo of Bardo's creepy mug on my blog. Google him if you're curious, but be sure to wear garlic around your neck and sprinkle salt around yourself for protection (I'm only half-kidding) because ewwwwwww. As another blogger wrote, you can almost hear the demon wings flapping inside his head.  

I was glad to see that the show included the infamous "redecorating" of OJ's mansion, where the defense went in and cleared out photos of OJ posing with (white) Playboy models, golfing buddies and girlfriends, replacing them with African art and photos of black family members...supposedly some of the photos they planted there were of random black people OJ didn't even know. And I love that Coolio's "Fantastic Voyage" played over that scene, because how appropriate is that? 

What's the deal with all those rappers wearing button-down flannel shirts at the beach? 
Didn't they get hot?

It also reminded me that Coolio actually did do a song that I liked back in the day, because I hated his one other hit, "Gangster's Paradise," which was so annoying and inescapable that year. (For the record Weird Al's take on it is sooooo much better.) 

*I attended school to be a court reporter from 1993 - 1995. It came to a sudden end when the school folded and declared bankruptcy. (The bright side? I got my student loans forgiven!) I was about 6 months from graduating. Needless to say, I ended up going in another direction job-wise, one of many "Plan B's" I took during my twenties, which was really a decade full of "Plan B's".