Becky with the good hair, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
Brandi Chastain's statue:
"Err merr gerd, howr derr your not hear Yanny?"
Renaldo's statue:
"Whart are your, dearf? It's Laurel."
Red Sox star Mookie Betts is related to the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle. Please, please tell me that makes him Duke Mookie.
Chef Mario Batali is being investigated for two sexual assaults. So my instinctive hatred of Mario Batali turned out to be well-founded.
A sinkhole has appeared on the White House lawn. That story again, they have discovered Anthony Scaramucci's shallow grave.
Charlie Sheen is listing his Beverly Hills estate at $9.99 million. $3.5 million of that is the estimated street value of the remnants of cocaine in the carpet.
Put balding ginger hair in pony tail. Check.
Put cargo shorts over fat, freckled butt. Check.
Wear socks with orange Crocs on my stanky-ass feet. Check.
Be investigated by NYPD for sexual assault I really did. Check.
-Mario Batali's "To Do" list.
The New York police are investigating chef Mario Batali for sexual assault.
"This really comes as a shock," said nobody who knows Batali always wears cargo shorts and orange Crocs with socks.
Since you asked:
While now dipping my toe in the entertainment business after working on Wall Street in the ’80’s, I feel qualified to offer my opinion on why Hollywood was hit so hard and blindly by the #MeToo movement.
Working for a brokerage firm that dealt exclusively with only the top Wall Street firms allowed to trade with the Federal Reserve in the ’80’s, it was still almost exclusively a boy’s club. The women who did work there took what now can only be considered considerable verbal abuse in an attempt to decipher if they could be one of the boys.
When I worked on Wall Street, we got there at 8:00 AM in our suits and did not leave until 5:00 PM. And then, at least one night a week, we were expected to entertain our clients with at least a boozy dinner and then a club. This being the Eighties, our boss was staunchly against drugs and hookers. Our competitors did not always make that distinction.
We could not leave our desks except for the bathroom. Lunch was brought in.
The language at the desk was so foul and the jokes so disgusting, it dissolved into nothing more than a gross-out contest. Often it made me chuckle to realize that when a few of us headed to the Downtown Athletic Club men’s locker room, we had to clean up our language.
And yet, by the late Eighties and certainly by the early Nineties, this changed dramatically. Soon after I left for California in 1986, a top executive at our Wall Street firm got hit with a sexual abuse lawsuit from which he barely escaped.
Even in the early Nineties in La Jolla, California, my old school manager ordered a belly dancer for a brokers meeting infuriating many of the women who worked there.
Even as backwards and as much of an old boy’s network as the financial industry was through the mid Nineties, they eventually got, as the kids say, woke.
That never happened to Hollywood.
Hollywood, as Woody Allen put it so well - before he married his teenage daughter - is worse than dog-eat-dog, it is dog doesn’t return other dog’s phone call.
Hollywood is comprised of 100% of people who think they should have been famous stars in a business where .01% of them are famous stars. Even the accountants, lawyers, studio executives and producers all once had stars in their eyes.
A top agent once coldly responded to a wildly talented unemployed actor’s begging him to represent him by saying, “I don’t represent talent. I represent heat. You got no heat.”
Hollywood is all about the heat. Either you have the heat or you don’t.
And I think the slimebags in Hollywood, post #MeToo are simply adjusting their game not get caught.
There was a telling inside-Hollywood scene in the underrated HBO show “Barry” where the starving ingenue lands a meeting with an A-list agent. He promises to use his pull to get her a much sought-after audition. He then matter-of-factly tells her,
“Of course I expect you to f*ck me.”
There is a long pause. After she stammers that she wants to keep it professional, he blurts out,
“I was just joking. Of course, I would never do that.”
But when she gets to the audition, she finds out he called and cancelled her appointment.
From the time the valet attendant parks your car to the moment you sit down at a production meeting, everyone is eyeing you to determine if you have the kind of heat that can help their career. If you don’t? You can see them turn out your lights in their head.
If you have that kind of heat, like Bill Cosby did, like Louis CK did, like Harvey Weinstein did, like Kevin Spacey did, you get away with everything but murder. And maybe murder if it was someone people did not like. Like an intern or a page.
Combine that with an entire industry that makes endless allowances for flakey creative types along with movies sets that feature lots of naked people all being run by fit, gorgeous people that have never worked in the real world, all fueled by lots of free booze and drugs....
Well, things were very much like the fall of Rome.
Lord knows I love the movie “Tombstone,” there are two glaring dialog errors.
First is just a flat-out false definition.
While bumping into each other on a horseback ride, Josephine Marcus (Dana Delaney) tells Wyatt Earp (Kurt Russell) that their meeting was fortuitous. Which she condescendingly explains means lucky.
Wrong.
Fortuitous means by chance. Just because it has the beginning off the word fortune, people think it means fortunate. Serial killers can pick their victims fortuitously.
Serendipitous means lucky. You can pick your lottery numbers fortuitously, but if you win it is serendipitous.
Next, Sherman McMasters says the cowboys are out for revenge. Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer) says, “Make no mistake, it is not revenge they’re after. It’s a reckoning.”
Now this bugged me, so I looked it up. A reckoning implies an accounting or a tally to become even. The IRS wanting back-taxes is a reckoning. In a more philosophical definition, it also implies divine justice or cosmic fairness.
That is wrong. The cowboys are out for nothing if not revenge. Justice or the evening of numbers has nothing to do with it.
“40-Year-Old Virgin” holds up as sweet and funny. But it is amazing the number of careers Judd Apatow launched. He has an amazing eye for talent:
Steve Carell was already on his way and so was Catherine Keener and Paul Rudd had done “Clueless.”
But look at the rest:
Seth Rogen
Romany Malco (Still under-used in my opinion)
Elizabeth Banks
Leslie Mann
Jane Lynch
Jonah Hill
Mindy Kaling
Mo Collins
Wayne Federman (Underrated)
Gillian Vigman (You know her as the wife on Jack-in-the-Box)
Stormy Daniels. Yes, that Stormy Daniels. She stretches to play a porn star.
And Kevin Hart, with his tiny part, almost steals the movie with his, "Well, you somebody's n-word with this n-word tie."
Brandi Chastain's statue:
"Err merr gerd, howr derr your not hear Yanny?"
Renaldo's statue:
"Whart are your, dearf? It's Laurel."
Red Sox star Mookie Betts is related to the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle. Please, please tell me that makes him Duke Mookie.
Chef Mario Batali is being investigated for two sexual assaults. So my instinctive hatred of Mario Batali turned out to be well-founded.
A sinkhole has appeared on the White House lawn. That story again, they have discovered Anthony Scaramucci's shallow grave.
Charlie Sheen is listing his Beverly Hills estate at $9.99 million. $3.5 million of that is the estimated street value of the remnants of cocaine in the carpet.
Put balding ginger hair in pony tail. Check.
Put cargo shorts over fat, freckled butt. Check.
Wear socks with orange Crocs on my stanky-ass feet. Check.
Be investigated by NYPD for sexual assault I really did. Check.
-Mario Batali's "To Do" list.
The New York police are investigating chef Mario Batali for sexual assault.
"This really comes as a shock," said nobody who knows Batali always wears cargo shorts and orange Crocs with socks.
Since you asked:
The Heat is Off
While now dipping my toe in the entertainment business after working on Wall Street in the ’80’s, I feel qualified to offer my opinion on why Hollywood was hit so hard and blindly by the #MeToo movement.
Working for a brokerage firm that dealt exclusively with only the top Wall Street firms allowed to trade with the Federal Reserve in the ’80’s, it was still almost exclusively a boy’s club. The women who did work there took what now can only be considered considerable verbal abuse in an attempt to decipher if they could be one of the boys.
When I worked on Wall Street, we got there at 8:00 AM in our suits and did not leave until 5:00 PM. And then, at least one night a week, we were expected to entertain our clients with at least a boozy dinner and then a club. This being the Eighties, our boss was staunchly against drugs and hookers. Our competitors did not always make that distinction.
We could not leave our desks except for the bathroom. Lunch was brought in.
The language at the desk was so foul and the jokes so disgusting, it dissolved into nothing more than a gross-out contest. Often it made me chuckle to realize that when a few of us headed to the Downtown Athletic Club men’s locker room, we had to clean up our language.
And yet, by the late Eighties and certainly by the early Nineties, this changed dramatically. Soon after I left for California in 1986, a top executive at our Wall Street firm got hit with a sexual abuse lawsuit from which he barely escaped.
Even in the early Nineties in La Jolla, California, my old school manager ordered a belly dancer for a brokers meeting infuriating many of the women who worked there.
Even as backwards and as much of an old boy’s network as the financial industry was through the mid Nineties, they eventually got, as the kids say, woke.
That never happened to Hollywood.
Hollywood, as Woody Allen put it so well - before he married his teenage daughter - is worse than dog-eat-dog, it is dog doesn’t return other dog’s phone call.
Hollywood is comprised of 100% of people who think they should have been famous stars in a business where .01% of them are famous stars. Even the accountants, lawyers, studio executives and producers all once had stars in their eyes.
A top agent once coldly responded to a wildly talented unemployed actor’s begging him to represent him by saying, “I don’t represent talent. I represent heat. You got no heat.”
Hollywood is all about the heat. Either you have the heat or you don’t.
And I think the slimebags in Hollywood, post #MeToo are simply adjusting their game not get caught.
There was a telling inside-Hollywood scene in the underrated HBO show “Barry” where the starving ingenue lands a meeting with an A-list agent. He promises to use his pull to get her a much sought-after audition. He then matter-of-factly tells her,
“Of course I expect you to f*ck me.”
There is a long pause. After she stammers that she wants to keep it professional, he blurts out,
“I was just joking. Of course, I would never do that.”
But when she gets to the audition, she finds out he called and cancelled her appointment.
From the time the valet attendant parks your car to the moment you sit down at a production meeting, everyone is eyeing you to determine if you have the kind of heat that can help their career. If you don’t? You can see them turn out your lights in their head.
If you have that kind of heat, like Bill Cosby did, like Louis CK did, like Harvey Weinstein did, like Kevin Spacey did, you get away with everything but murder. And maybe murder if it was someone people did not like. Like an intern or a page.
Combine that with an entire industry that makes endless allowances for flakey creative types along with movies sets that feature lots of naked people all being run by fit, gorgeous people that have never worked in the real world, all fueled by lots of free booze and drugs....
Well, things were very much like the fall of Rome.
Lord knows I love the movie “Tombstone,” there are two glaring dialog errors.
First is just a flat-out false definition.
While bumping into each other on a horseback ride, Josephine Marcus (Dana Delaney) tells Wyatt Earp (Kurt Russell) that their meeting was fortuitous. Which she condescendingly explains means lucky.
Wrong.
Fortuitous means by chance. Just because it has the beginning off the word fortune, people think it means fortunate. Serial killers can pick their victims fortuitously.
Serendipitous means lucky. You can pick your lottery numbers fortuitously, but if you win it is serendipitous.
Next, Sherman McMasters says the cowboys are out for revenge. Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer) says, “Make no mistake, it is not revenge they’re after. It’s a reckoning.”
Now this bugged me, so I looked it up. A reckoning implies an accounting or a tally to become even. The IRS wanting back-taxes is a reckoning. In a more philosophical definition, it also implies divine justice or cosmic fairness.
That is wrong. The cowboys are out for nothing if not revenge. Justice or the evening of numbers has nothing to do with it.
“40-Year-Old Virgin” holds up as sweet and funny. But it is amazing the number of careers Judd Apatow launched. He has an amazing eye for talent:
Steve Carell was already on his way and so was Catherine Keener and Paul Rudd had done “Clueless.”
But look at the rest:
Seth Rogen
Romany Malco (Still under-used in my opinion)
Elizabeth Banks
Leslie Mann
Jane Lynch
Jonah Hill
Mindy Kaling
Mo Collins
Wayne Federman (Underrated)
Gillian Vigman (You know her as the wife on Jack-in-the-Box)
Stormy Daniels. Yes, that Stormy Daniels. She stretches to play a porn star.
And Kevin Hart, with his tiny part, almost steals the movie with his, "Well, you somebody's n-word with this n-word tie."
posted by Alex at
3:55 PM
<< Home