Now Playing: THE BEES (1978), as in “killer”, with John Carradine. The rheumatoid arthritis that Big John endured in his later years is much in evidence. The poor guy’s hands look like bad A.I. Like they told the computer that a hand consists of five fingers but didn’t tell it what fingers are.
Happy birthday, Brian Wilson. WILD HONEY is the best album of “rock” music made in the 1960s by pale-skinned Americans, no, we will not be discussing this like grown-ups, sit down, Lou Reed.
EVIL is approaching the conclusion of its final season. One sign of just how little money they intend to leave on the table: Mike Colter, who plays the cool, sexy priest, has been authorized to start making “Father, forgive me, for I just shit myself faces” when things get nuts.
One of my favorite things about closed captioning is that they apply quotation marks to the dialogue if the characters start quoting people, so if you’re illiterate, you’ll still know why they’re talking funny.
It is a sad comment on ‘80s Hollywood’s inability to make the most of what it had that nobody ever wrote a movie for Dabney Coleman in which Richard Nixon and G. Gordon Liddy went through a teleporter together.
In the last 12 hours, I have watched Robert Kennedy, Jr. in a campaign video and Bill Burr playing JFK in Jerry Seinfeld’s little Pop-Tarts comedy, and I am now fully convinced that at least 80% of the Kennedys’ charm came down to the Pepperidge Farm accents. (RFK Jr. doesn’t have one.)
Next Friday will mark the one-year anniversary of Al Jaffe’s death. This superhero-themed Mad compilation contains a Fold-In, the first one I have beheld since that sad day. I’m not crying, you’re crying!
Happy centennial birthday to bemused observer and sometime practitioner of the quality lot game, great comic spirit, and Zelig of the counterculture Terry Southern.
Now Playing: GUILT, season three premiere. They’re playing the only Stranglers song I really know, the one about walking on the beaches looking at the peaches. I believe it is called “The Stranglers Song from ‘Sexy Beast’.”
I'm not saying that this musical about Paul Morrissey that I'm writing is a sure shot. I'm not even saying that it might be any good at all. I'm just saying that I think we all knew it was going to happen as soon as I noticed that "Joe Dallesandro" sort of rhymes with "rando."
