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Category Archives: Comedy

Malaka Of The Week: Jimmy Carr

BERJAYA

The man in the spotlight is Anglo-Irish comedian and teevee presenter Jimmy Carr. I’d never heard of him until recently but he’s a big deal across the pond. He’s even had three Netflix standup specials. The most recent one, My Dark Material, has gotten him in serious trouble. And that is why Jimmy Carr is malaka of the week.

Carr specializes in edgy comedy of the variety that that the Brits call “near-the-knuckle.” I often find such comedy funny but only if it involves kicking up instead of kicking down. Once again, the Brits have their own term for it, “punching down.” I may have to steal that. I’m feeling punchy this morning.

Carr has been in hot water many times before. Three years ago, he said that “dwarfs are abortions that made it.” I am not making this up.

That provoked a stinging rebuke from Erin Pritchard an academic who lectures in disability and education and lives with dwarfism:

In a 2010 report about the lives of people with dwarfism in the UK it was found that 63% of people with dwarfism felt unsafe when out in public. Many people with dwarfism have told me how they have had children laugh or throw stones at them or been on the receiving end of sexual harassment – apparently it is funny to ask a woman with dwarfism for a blowjob or to tell her that your penis bigger than her – or have even been physically picked up by strangers.

But that’s all dwarfism seems to be to most people: ‘a joke’. It’s a joke that has been going on for centuries and still exists as a joke where any another minority group would not be. It’s a joke that has worn too thin for most people with dwarfism, who have to endure the same jokes day in, day out, such as being asked ‘where our six little friends are’.

That’s the epitome of punching/kicking down. But Malaka Jimmy was undaunted and continued telling tasteless jokes. It’s just a joke is his refrain. Sound familiar? It’s what Trump aides say every time the Impeached Insult Comedian slurs a group of people.

Jimmy Carr is still kicking/punching down. This time, with a steel-toed boot of a joke or is that brass-knuckles? I could go either way.

“When people talk about the Holocaust, they talk about the tragedy and horror of 6 million Jewish lives being lost to the Nazi war machine. But they never mention the thousands of Gypsies that were killed by the Nazis.

“No one ever wants to talk about that, because no one ever wants to talk about the positives.”

The slurs begin in the set-up. The Roma people consider Gypsy a slur. I’m a firm believer that ethnic groups are entitled to go by whatever name they prefer. Besides, most ethnic humor is tired and dated unless it’s used by a member of the group.

Jokes about Holocaust victims are never funny. This joke is like kicking the audience in the balls. It’s only funny to the kicker, not the kickee.

I say that as someone who recently wrote this:

There are those who believe that Hitler’s crimes are so immense that he should never be mocked or parodied. Along with Chaplin, Ernst Lubitsch, and Mel Brooks I beg to differ. Satire and humor reveals and exposes evil. You bring the evildoers down a peg with mockery.

Mocking Hitler, Himmler or Goering is the epitome of punching up. It’s the comedic equivalent of a sock to the jaw. Malaka Jimmy may this find his abhorrent joke funny, but I do not. What does he know? He thinks dwarf jokes are funny.

Carr’s horrid joke has united the Conservative and Labour parties in condemnation. Instead of punching one another, they’re united in kicking around Jimmy Carr.

As for the comedian himself, Malaka Jimmy is unrepentant:

During a gig in Whitley Bay, Tyne and Wear, he told his audience ‘The joke that ends my career is already out there’.

A woman in the audience heckled Carr by saying, ‘Are we going to talk about the Holocaust?’ the Mirror reported.

Carr replied: ‘We are going to talk about cancel culture, the whole thing.”

The cancel culture shoe just dropped. It’s the catch-all excuse for people who say bigoted things in public. This puts Jimmy Carr in the same company with Holocaust deniers, Q-Anon creeps, and Donald Trump Junior. Not company that anyone should want to keep. And that is why Jimmy Carr is malaka of the week.

Since Jimmy Carr is finding the spotlight too hot, the last word goes to The Electric Flag:

 

 

Quote Of The Day: Charlie Chaplin Edition

BERJAYA

A rare Sunday post from me as Tommy T is on the disabled list this week. Get well soon, brother.

There’s a marvelous documentary on Showtime: The Real Charlie Chaplin. It’s well-done and the presentism is kept to a minimum.

Charlie Chaplin was the first worldwide celebrity who wasn’t a political or military figure. He stayed out of politics until the rise of Hitler made that impossible. Chaplin was always a man of the left but taking a stand-then and now-loses you fans. It would eventually cost Chaplin more than that during the second Red Scare. He was run out of the country by forces of reaction and stupidity. Those same forces are at work in 2022.

The Great Dictator has always been a controversial movie even among those who share its politics. There are those who believe that Hitler’s crimes are so immense that he should never be mocked or parodied. Along with Chaplin, Ernst Lubitsch, and Mel Brooks I beg to differ. Satire and humor reveals and exposes evil. You bring the evildoers down a peg with mockery.

What’s not to love about Adenoid Hynkel and the double ross standing in for Hitler and the swastika?

The Great Dictator plays on the resemblance between Chaplin and Hitler. It was one reason many refused to take the furor over the Fuhrer seriously. He looked like Charlie Chaplin. the world’s greatest comedian.

Chaplin plays two roles. The oppressed as the little Jewish barber picked on by fascist bullies and the oppressor Adenoid Hynkel.

The finale of the movie is a speech given by the barber in dictator drag. Here are the money quotes from this epic speech:

I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business. I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone – if possible – Jew, Gentile – black man – white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness – not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way.

Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost…

 <SNIP>

Then – in the name of democracy – let us use that power – let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world – a decent world that will give men a chance to work – that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfil that promise. They never will!

Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people! Now let us fight to fulfil that promise! Let us fight to free the world – to do away with national barriers – to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness. Soldiers! in the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Those words are as true in 2022 as they were in 1940.

The last word goes to Charles Chaplin as the antithesis of The Great Dictator:

Poor Taste

BERJAYA

My Dead Sinematic Senator Walking post originally had a different last word and featured image. I decided they were in poor taste and would undermine the post by being too sensational. I’ll post the rejected stuff at the end of this post thereby proving that they were in poor taste in the context of a post in which death was used as a metaphor.

That editorial process got me pondering what poor taste is. It’s in the eye of the beholder as is bad taste.

You say bad taste, I say poor taste. Let’s call the whole thing off.

A friend of mine posted the following on Facebook about Marvin Lee Aday d/b/a Meatloaf:.

BERJAYA

The dead singer was a dedicated anti-vaxxer who became a Trump sycophant during his time on the Celebrity Apprentice. That made him a Trumper before Trumpism, a proto-MAGA Maggot.

Several people objected to any Meatloaf mockery because he had just died. The dread “don’t speak ill of the dead” notion was invoked. I only speak ill of the dead if they deserve it. Meatloaf deserved it for his pitiful Trumpiness and overall malakatude.

Additionally, Meatloaf had the worst stage name in show biz history. It’s like an Italian singer becoming Lasagna or a Greek crooner becoming Moussaka. Great comfort food dishes, terrible stage names.

When Bob Saget died, people marveled at the contrasts in his career. There was even an article in Slate called Who Was The Real Bob Saget?

People are complicated. I didn’t watch either Full House or America’s Funniest Home Videos, so I wasn’t familiar with Saget’s wholesome side. I did, however, know about his sordidly funny side because of his appearance in the movie, The Aristocrats:

Here’s how the Pop Culture Dictionary defines the joke behind The Aristocrats:

The Aristocrats is an infamously dirty joke. Its setup describes a family pitching an act to a talent agency that may involve bestiality, incest, and coprophilia (look it up). The agent asks what the act is called and the punchline is “The Aristocrats!” Because rich people? The point of The Aristocrats is its shock value, it’s taboo, duh.

That’s definitely in poor taste but it’s still funny, I won’t speak ill of the aristocratic dead unless they deserve it.

Repeat after me: Poor taste is in the eye of the beholder.

A funny thing happened when I was searching for The Aristocrats movie poster, this kept popping up:

BERJAYA

I suspect there are those who think that anthropomorphized cats are in poor taste. I’m uncertain of Kitty Claire Trevor’s position on The Aristocats. Btw, Scat Cat refers to scat singing, not scatological humor, which is invariably in poor taste but often funny.

Another weird image popped up as I searched for The Aristocrats poster and dodged The Aristocats:

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Now that’s in poor taste.

Repeat after me: Poor taste is in the eye of the beholder.

Finally, the rejected featured image for the Dead Sinematic Senator Walking post:

BERJAYA

It might have been in poor taste for yesterday’s post, but it works in a post about poor taste. FYI, the phallically named producer of I Want To Live, Walter Wanger spent time in jail for shooting his movie star wife Joan Bennett’s suspected lover. He aimed for the dude’s, uh, wanger. Now that’s in poor taste.

The last word is the rejected last word for the Dead Sinematic Senator Walking post:

Repeat after me: Poor taste is in the eye of the beholder.

Comedy is Life

The Hierarchy Of Humor

The whole character of Super Dave is a takeoff on people who pontificate. So one thing I never want to do is pontificate why this works, why this is funny. I have no idea what the appeal is. All we are trying to do is make people have a good time and laugh.

–Bob Einstein on his most famous character

Comedy is a very powerful component of life. It has the most to say about the human condition because if you laugh you can get by. You can struggle when things are bad if you have a sense of humor. Laughter is a protest scream against death, against the long goodbye. It’s a defense against unhappiness and depression.

–Mel Brooks in his autobiography

For the holidays this year I have been taking a deep dive into what exactly is funny.

Actually I’ve spent a good amount of my life diving into that pool. From the time I could talk I liked to make people laugh. Being funny was my defense mechanism against bullies, teachers, authority figures, any and all who would try to knock me down both physically and spiritually. I am Jewish, so I come by it naturally.

What prompted this particular dive was being given Mel Brooks’ autobiography All About Me. Brooks has always been a hero of mine. I mean come on, he wrote one of the funniest routines in 2000 years of western civilization and got to perform it with his best friend of 70 years, got to work in a legendary writer’s room on Your Show Of Shows, created a TV series that we still quote lines from 50 years later (“sorry about that chief”), is one of the few writers to win an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay for a comedy, turned that screenplay into a blockbuster Broadway musical, and on top of all that looked like he could be my cousin Shecky from Williamsburg and STILL got to marry a shiksa goddess named Anne Bancroft. I mean who wouldn’t want to be this guy?

OK, Adolph Hitler maybe not, but, hey, you never know.

The other prompt for this E-Ticket ride was a new documentary on HBO called The Super Bob Einstein Movie. For those who don’t know, Bob Einstein is probably most famous for creating the character of Super Dave Osborne, a perennially pompous stuntman in the vein of Evel Knevel whose ridiculous stunts inevitably were wretched failures. While I liked Super Dave, I loved Bob’s character Officer Judy on the Smothers Brothers Show (on which he was also a writer) and more recently the character of Marty Funkhouser on Curb Your Enthusiasm. He was the very epitome of what is referred to as a comedian’s comedian.

The two could not have been more unalike. Mel was born in Brooklyn during the Depression, faced consistent anti-Semitism, worked his way up from bussing tables in the Catskills to headlining there, and had to fight for every chance he ever got. Bob was born in Beverly Hills, the son of a famous though now unfortunately forgotten comedian who went by the name of Parkyakarkus, stumbled into comedy writing through being in advertising, was a TV star almost immediately, and oh yeah, had a brother who decided Albert Einstein wasn’t a good name for a comedian so he changed it to (ironically) Albert Brooks.

On the other hand, they both knew funny. They understood what makes people laugh. More importantly they understood why people needed to laugh. They even understood why some people can’t or won’t laugh. It’s that need to laugh that has been working it’s way through my brain these past days.

And let’s face it, we need to laugh more these days.

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‘Don’t Look Up’ Deserves a Look

BERJAYA

A climate change metaphor hurtles toward Earth.

Making a political satire in 2021 is one difficult task. How do you make a satirical movie about a reality that is so bizarre right now, if it was a movie plot in any other time period, critics would slam it as ridiculous and over-the-top?

That is the tall order director Adam McKay took on with the latest Movie Everyone Is Talking About, “Don’t Look Up.” McKay’s latest film is a continuation of his trend away from broad satires and toward more dark comedy/drama-type movies such as “The Big Short” and “Vice,” which may have led to his well-publicized breakup with his creative partner, Will Ferrell. So, has McKay succeeded in skewering how our society reacts to serious threats like COVID-19 and climate change?

I would say mostly, he has.

“Don’t Look Up” begins with our intrepid heroes, Dr. Randall Mindy, an astronomy professor played by Leonardo DiCaprio, and one of his graduate students, Kate Dibiasky, played by Jennifer Lawrence (smell the Oscar bait already), discovering a new comet, and then calculating its path. As you have probably heard by now, they find out the thing is heading right for us, and it’s really big.

What follows is a trip to the Oval Office, where they are met with apathy by obvious conservative President Janie Orlean (Meryl Streep, again, smell the Oscar bait), and her Chief of Staff, who is also her toadie son, Jason Orlean (Jonah Hill). Initial attempts to cover up the killer comet fail, which leads to Dr. Mindy and Dibiasky appearing on a breezy morning show to try to warm people, but the hosts (Cate Blanchett and Tyler Perry) are hyper-focused on “keeping it light.”

Dibiasky’s frustration boils over, turning her into a social media meme, and Mindy becomes seduced by fame and Blanchett’s Fox News-esque morning show host. Soon an oddball tech mogul, Peter Isherwell, played by Mark Rylance, becomes involved because of course he does.

Make no mistake, this is one angry movie, perhaps the most pissed movie I’ve seen in a while. There are multiple times where the movie itself seems to possess DiCaprio and Lawrence, when they launch into rants about people not taking an existential threat more seriously, often to great comic effect. There are also scenes in it that seemed to be designed to enrage Rachel Maddow, as various conspiracy theories pop up on the Internet about whether there is even a comet.

This is also a movie that probably couldn’t be made five years ago. There are moments in it, such as a presidential sex scandal, that would be considered absurd prior to Trump. Now they get a “sadly enough, I could see that” type reaction. There are very funny moments, some moments that are not clear whether they are intended to be funny, and moments of deep existential angst. The title itself comes from a conservative slogan championed by the Meryl Streep president, “Don’t Look Up,” which is basically telling the movie wingers to ignore the planet-destroying comet, everything will be fine.

But does it all work?

I will say that there are moments where it feels like the movie is ready to careen off the rails and collapse under its own anger. Streep is really not given much to do other than be a series of right-wing memes, and while she was her usual marvelous self, it feels like her character could have been more. There is an infidelity plot in the film that feels attached and is sort of clumsily handled.

However, I’d best describe the movie as an angry gymnast doing a crazy vault full of spins and twists and somersaults, all while rage-screaming. And then sticking the landing. I feel like the third act of “Don’t Look Up,” is a bit unusual in where often a movie falls apart in the third act, this film ends strong (won’t spoil a pretty wonderful ending except to tell you to stick around until midway through the credits). Also, Hill’s chief of staff/spoiled brat son is obviously an amalgamation of Trump’s spawn but still kind of fun, and, Rylance’s tech guru performance was outstanding. McKay was wise in creating Isherwell as his own sort of weirdo, and not as a Mark Zuckerberg or Elon Must clone. He’s still one of those tech moguls who are so strange that you can’t figure out why people take what they say as a form of gospel.

Blanchett and Perry are solid as representations of a rather heinous aspect of our society that I refer to as Toxic Positivity. The two happy-happy morning hosts drive our heroes insane by making jokes and focusing on “positive things” while they are trying to warn people of our Earth’s imminent demise. Toxic Positivity takes many forms, such as those concern trolls who hector civil rights activists for being “divisive” or shout down people warning of imminent dangers as “focusing on the negative,” and the movie works well here mocking those tendencies.

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Things That Make Me Cringe 2.0

BERJAYA

After I wrote my first Things That Make Me Cringe post calling Succession The Big Cringe. I heard from my friend Mr. Cosmic Ray:

“Succession” has nothing on “Curb Your Enthusiasm” in the cringe department! Still the king of cringe, Mr. David.

It’s hard to argue that point after the season finale in which Alexander Vindman plays himself in an episode that parodies Trump Impeachment 1.0. I am not making this up. Here’s a clip as proof:

Curb Your Enthusiasm is the only show I can think of that could benefit from a 9-year gap between season-8 and season-9 followed by a 3-year gap between 9 and 10. That’s a lot of numbers and many, many gaps.

Speaking of gaps:

Neither Larry David nor JB Smoove came up with that song title, but they could have. They’re forever dropping bombs on people. They’re assholes for our time. Most importantly, they make me cringe.

I made myself cringe by forgetting this cringey post from last fall about a cringey kids book written by a cringey wingnut:

All The Children Cringe

My ability to self-link is the stuff of legend in what my old pal and former work wife Liprap calls the blogpocheh. I let down the side. Oh well, what the hell.

You’re probably wonder where this post is going. In addition to straight to hell, it’s time for more things they make me cringe. The cringiest stuff is presented in cringey bullet points, which make me, uh, cringe:

  • The inability of political Twitter to take a break from politics. They should follow the example of former presidents Reagan and Obama who took the time between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day off. The news cycle may churn 24-7, but sometimes one needs a break. Overexposure is one thing that doomed the 2020 Trump campaign.

Pete Townshend got it right:

Bad Company missed the mark:

  • The way the media gives exposure to rude assholes like Jared Schmeck aka the Let’s Go Brandon guy. After being rude to Joey B Shark, this cretin went on the contemptible Mr. Bannon’s podcast. Schmeck is a schmuck. I’ll let Los Lobos dispatch him:

  • The continuing bible banger support for Trumpism even though Trump Junior proclaimed that “the teachings of Jesus have gotten us nothing.” I guess they really think that Pennywise is the second coming or some such stupid shit. Barack Obama was right when he said that some people cling to their guns and religion. They’ve added the Impeached Insult Comedian to the list. The notion of that moron as the messiah makes me sigh-a…

I don’t think Jeff Lynne had false idols in mind when he wrote this song snippet, but I love ELO so here it goes:

  • I wish the cringiest event of the week was that short, but they played the whole damn game. My New Orleans Saints were obliged to play and lose a home game with 21 players on the COVID list. It was a farce, which nearly got rookie 4th string QB Ian Book killed because of the makeshift offensive line “blocking” for him. It was as bad as watching Billy Joes Tolliver and Hobert quarterback the Saints during the dismal Ditka days. I am not making the Billy Joe thing up.

My friend Clancy DuBos mock-volunteered to fill the gap. There’s that word again:

FYI, Clancy is one of the sanest, least cringeworthy people I know.

That concludes this cringe-fest. The last word goes to Nick Lowe and Rockpile with a song dedicated to bruised and battered Saints QB Ian Book:

Fatigue Fatigue

BERJAYA

Everyone is tired of the pandemic. I know I am. I’m tired of being tired. Instead of mere pandemic fatigue, I have fatigue fatigue.

One of the most worrisome, even irksome, recent developments have been premature declarations of victory. Everyone wants it to end but hoping that it’s over, is a poor substitute for proof that the pandemic is on its way out. That’s the phase we’re in right now. It’s mentally and emotionally more dangerous than the reaction to past waves.

The amateur epidemiologists tell us that Omicron is not that bad: it’s not as long-lasting and kills fewer people. To say that’s a low bar is like saying I’m a cat person or Saints fan. Most early reports are anecdotal and/or journalistic. The data is sparse but encouraging except for one problem: it’s the most contagious wave thus far.

Speaking of the New Orleans Saints, the easiest way to be infected with Omicron is to hang out with my local NFL team. They’re so decimated that they were obliged to sign Jason of The Good Place’s favorite player:

BERJAYA

Blake Bortles is the journeyman’s journeyman as well as a running joke on The Good Place. And Jason is a lovable dolt. So it goes.

How decimated are the Saints? So decimated that Sean Payton  tried to lure Drew Brees out of retirement to backup green rookie Ian Book. How green is Ian Book? He played QB for the Notre Dame Fighting Irish. That’s green, y’all.

Showing more sense than he did during his playing days, Drew Brees wisely declined. Besides, being around the Saints is a surefire way to catch Omicron. That would get in the way of Drew’s lucrative teevee gig.

I wish that New Orleans Mayor Teedy had the sense of Drew Brees. I think that having Carnival parades is a bad idea based on what we know now. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: a yellow light is in order, not boosterism.

I’m the guy who usually catches everything, but I’ve stayed COVID-free during the pandemic. I’m unwilling to risk my undefeated record just because Mayor Teedy wants to spike the ball. They can have parades but I’m unlikely to attend or entertain company.

As you can see, my fatigue fatigue is aimed at wishful thinking. It makes me want to make like Paul Douglas in the Panic In The Streets featured image.

Worst-case scenario thinking is in order when it comes to the pandemic. I want it to be over but in the immortal words of Lawrence Peter Berra:

BERJAYA

You know times are tough when I quote a New York Yankee legend or praise Drew Brees’ acuity. Oh well, what the hell.

One thing my fatigue fatigue does not extend to is the annual Jon Swift Roundup of satirical blog posts. My Owning The Commies With John Neely Kennedy post joined this year’s festivities. Props to Batocchio of Vagabond Scholar for keeping this tradition alive. While we’re plugging away, a reminder that The Best Of Adrastos 2021 is online.

I also never tire of Dave Barry’s annual year in review piece in the WaPo. I stole “I am not making this up” from Dave. I only steal from the best.

Finally, I write my posts on WordPress then feed them into MS Word for a spell/grammar check. It nearly had a stroke over this post title: DELETE REPEATED WORD.

Since I had a green reverie earlier and the word fatigue is rarely used in song lyrics, the last word goes to Al Green:

 

Being The Ricardos

BERJAYA

I’m a show biz history buff so when I first heard about Being The Ricardos, I was excited. The real Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz were interesting people who were unlike their public images. I was in a bad mood yesterday so I watched it thinking it might improve my mood, It did not. It made it worse.

I spent the first 20 minutes of the movie adjusting the brightness on the tube. It’s a new QLED teevee with a sharp picture on everything except Being The Ricardos. The picture was dark and murky even on the set of I Love Lucy. I eventually moved to my desktop computer. After turning the brightness all the way up, it was watchable. Just barely.

The reason for the murkiness is the use of ambient lighting. It was a bad look when Stanley Kubrick started the trend with Barry Lyndon in 1975. Aaron Sorkin is no Stanley Kubrick. To be blunt, he’s a bad director and overrated writer.

Sorkin may think he’s following in the footsteps of writers such as Billy Wilder and Preston Sturges who became directors to protect their material. Instead, he should have followed Neil Simon or David Kelley’s example and let someone who knows what they’re doing direct. Aaron Sorkin thinks he knows everything. He does not.

Repeat after me: Aaron Sorkin is a bad director.

The premise of Being The Ricardos is promising. It’s set during a momentous week for Lucy and Desi. The Red Scare has ensnared America’s favorite redhead. Lucy is pregnant and the couple want to be the first to “have a baby” on the electric teevee machine. Desi wins the day on both points. Viva Desi.

The real Desi Arnaz was a smart and charming man. The reel Desi as played by Javier Bardem is smart and charmless. Bardem is a fine actor, but he’s woefully miscast. Desi Arnaz was a charming rogue with a twinkle in his eye and bounce in his step. Bardem has a somber visage with nary a twinkle or bounce in sight. Charm always eludes Aaron Sorkin.

Repeat after me: Aaron Sorkin is a bad director.

There was an online controversy over Nicole Kidman’s casting as Lucille Ball. The amateur casting directors of Twitter favored Debra Messing. I’m a Kidman stan and thought she did a good job. Besides, when casting the part of a star, choose a star. Nicole Kidman *is* a star but she was burdened with an unwieldy script replete with confusing flashbacks.

Repeat after me: Aaron Sorkin is a bad director and overrated writer.

I was excited when I heard of the casting of Nina Arianda as Vivian Vance/Ethel Mertz and JK Simmons as William Frawley/Fred Mertz. They were both good, but Nina wasn’t given much to do. It’s a pity because I love her as Patty the sharp lawyer in Goliath.

The depiction of Bill Frawley was disconcerting. He was indeed an alcoholic but by all accounts he was a charming drunk instead of the cranky old man in this fakakta movie. Frawley played Bub the grandfather on My Three Sons and the boys on that show loved him onstage and off. Charm always eludes Aaron Sorkin.

Why does a man with no sense of humor continue to set his work in the world of comedy? Sorkin did it on teevee with Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, which was about an SNL-type show. Unfortunately, the comedy bits were unfunny. That’s also the case with Being The Ricardos. Studio 60 was eventually blown off the air by 30 Rock, which debuted at around the same time. My countrywoman Tina Fey is funny. Aaron Sorkin is not.

I could go on and on about the flaws and anachronisms in the movie, but it boils down to this: Aaron Sorkin is a bad director.

It’s time to grade Being The Ricardos. I give it 2 stars and an Adrastos grade of C- only because I’m grading on a curve.

Repeat after me: Aaron Sorkin is a bad director.

The last word goes to the real Desi Arnaz:

Saturday Odds & Sods: Jacob Marley’s Chain

BERJAYA

Jacob Marley’s Ghost by John Leech.

Things had slowed down in New Orleans on the COVID front, but it looks as if we’re about to be hit with another wave. I know of at least 10 people who have been exposed to the highly contagious Omicron variant. I’m glad the Carnival parading season is late this year. We may still be able to salvage it. Stay tuned.

This week’s seasonal theme song was written by Aimee Mann for her classic 1993 album, Whatever. It’s more of a Dickensian song than a holiday song, which is why I like it so much.

We have two versions of Jacob Marley’s Chains for your listening pleasure: the studio original and a live solo acoustic version with an amusing introduction by the songwriter.

We’ve all been foolish, but I for one have never been part of a chain-chain-chain of fools:

It’s time to stop fooling around and jump to the break.

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Never Give A Sucker An Even Break

BERJAYA

It will be no surprise to our readers that I think that Trumpism is a con, scam, and grift. Fleecing suckers is the Impeached Insult Comedian’s lifetime avocation, make that vocation. Sometimes the con job is legal: casinos in Atlantic City. Sometimes it’s not: Trump University. But it’s always a con.

That brings me to two of Trump World’s most blatant con artists: disgraced General Mike Flynn and professional asshole Steve Bannon. They both received pardons in the waning days of the Trump regime. They’re both out there shaking down Trumper suckers. Only one of them has been indicted again but I wouldn’t bet against Flynn joining Bannon in the dock.

We begin by going in like Flynn. I really should stop using the Errol Flynn trial line but I’m incorrigible. In the early days of the Mike Flynn scandal, I had some sympathy for him because of his distinguished military record. I’m a sucker for a guy in uniform. More importantly, he originally pled guilty and agreed to take his medicine until MAGA lawyer Sydney Powell took over his defense. That’s when shit got weird.

As you may recall, Flynn’s withdrawal of his guilty plea was supported by Bill Barr and eventually led to a presidential* pardon. I told you this shit was weird.

Since the pardon Flynn has become a QAnon hero. He’s been cultivating the most gullible group in the country and making a living off them. Nice work if you can get it.

I feel a musical interlude coming on:

Flynn is back in the news because of a phone call between him and MAGA shyster Lin Wood who is on the outs with some Q-types or is that Q-Tips?  I get the two confused.

Lin Wood has a nasty habit of recording phone calls. He did it again with Flynn:

In the call, Wood complains to Flynn that his QAnon supporters had attacked Wood online. But Flynn attempts to disown QAnon, claiming it’s a “disinformation campaign” created by the CIA.

“I think it’s a disinformation campaign,” Flynn said on the call. “I think it’s a disinformation campaign that the CIA created. That’s what I believe. Now, I don’t know that for a fact, but that’s what I think it is. I think it’s a disinformation campaign.”

Later in the recording, Flynn called QAnon “total nonsense.”

“I find it total nonsense,” Flynn said. “And I think it’s a disinformation campaign created by the left.”

Since Flynn was in military intelligence, one would think he knows from disinformation. He does not. Q-Anon is strictly a right-wing phenomenon with rhetoric straight out of the Bircher handbook. Besides, the CIA may have started life stuffed with lefties, but those days ended with the rise of Allen Dulles and James Jesus Angleton. Jeez, General, you oughta know that. He sounds like a guy who doesn’t know the difference between a mole and mole poblano…

As of this writing, Flynn hasn’t denied the story but I’m sure he will. QAnon is his golden goose. He’ll do anything to salvage a tie to the most gullible people in the country. It’s hard to find marks that easy to con. Why do you think the Kaiser of Chaos has always refused to denounce them?

The reason I used the title of the surreal WC Fields classic Never Give A Sucker An Even Break is our second MAGA con artist, Steve Bannon. I’ve long thought of Bannon as WC Fields’ evil twin. The sardonic and bibulous comedian was a Republican who threatened to run against FDR in 1940:

BERJAYA

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A Post About Nothing

BERJAYA

I took the long weekend off from politics. It may damage my pundit cred but I’m like a car battery that needs recharging only without jumper cables. As you may have guessed, that’s the set up for an aimless and meandering potpourri post. Monday is often the day I feel aimless and meandering as opposed to manic. I do, however, like the Prince/Bangles song. But it doesn’t fit my mood this chilly morning. I initially called this post Blue Monday, but I believe in truth in advertising so A Post About Nothing it is.

I assume y’all get the Seinfeld reference, so I won’t belabor the point and tell an aimless and meandering story about a night at a Chinese restaurant. We did, however, try to eat at our favorite Chinese eatery way out in Kenna, Brah a few weeks back. But they had storm damage and were only serving takeout from a limited menu. We passed. We go there for the atmosphere. I’m lying: we go there for the Mongolian Beef.

We got a fancy new Samsung smart TV yesterday. Setting it up made me feel dumb. The physical set up was easy enough except when Claire Trevor decided to help. She’s one of those cats who gets into everything. Her tech skills are de minimus, so I shooed her away. It was easy since the TV came in a box within a bigger box. Every day is boxing day for Claire.

Setting up the new TV reminded me of the first time I set up a computer back in the tech stone age. I was intimidated but muddled through. I hate that printed manuals are no longer part of the deal. It’s a pain in the ass to have to use the E-manual on the TV or download a PDF. Holy shit, I sound like a Seinfeld character. Sorry about that. I’ll try and do better.

I’ve spent much of the pandemic being the guy who keeps saying: “It’s not over yet. Don’t spike the ball.” I would rather spike the ball, but the virus is tenacious and keeps bouncing back. Its latest iteration Omicron sounds extra-sinister. It sounds like a sci-fi or comic book villain sprung to viral life, The last thing I want to be is an extra in a comic book movie. There I go again, sounding like a Seinfeld character. It’s a Monday thing.

What political news I’ve seen was bleak. The Man of La Manchin and the Sinematic Senator are being deluged with contributions from GOP donors. We already knew that Unholy Joe was a corrupt piece of shit, but I’ve tended to think of Veda Pierce Sinema as a shallow narcissist desperate for attention. Of course, one can be a shallow narcissist and still be a corrupt piece of shit. Exhibit A is the Impeached Insult Comedian. That’s better, I sound like a cynical Curb Your Enthusiasm character instead of Jerry or George. I identify with Larry David’s shouty agent Jeff who also plays shouty dad Murray on The Goldbergs. I’m feeling shouty right now.

My favorite recent news story involves the Dipshit Insurrection. The headline at TPM almost says it all: Broadway Actor Who Plays Judas In ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ Charged With Storming Capitol Alongside Oath Keepers.

Actually, James Beeks d/b/a James T. Justis is a road show Judas or is that stock company Judas? Beats the hell outta me. I should ask my friend the Stage Mother. She knows from musicals.

It’s also ironic that the road show Judas stormed the Capitol with the Oath Keepers. If I remember my biblical movies correctly, Judas was the ultimate Oath Breaker. And they said that irony was dead.

Speaking of irony, the jailed Judas is a man of many monikers. He has a YouTube page under the name James ‘Delisco’ Beeks. Here he is auditioning for Judas:

Now that was something.

I’d like to conclude this post about nothing with a quote from the hit Billy Preston song Nothing From Nothing:

Nothing from nothing means nothing. You gotta have something, if you wanna be with me.

Obviously, the last word goes to the late Billy Preston and his spectacular Afro:

Take A Breath, It’s Just Thanksgiving

close up of Freedom from Want painting with older couple serving a turkey

This is not your family.

Hey there. Happy Thanksgiving to you. Enjoying your Thanksgiving coffee? Yeah, I know. Soon (if not already), you’re going to have to deal with family.

Last year, even if you won’t admit it to anyone, was actually kind of nice. Thanks to COVID, it was just you and the people and pets you live with. No worries about the cringe-worthy political opinions of family members. But this year, it’s once more into the breach, my friend.

There’s your one uncle, who two Thanksgivings ago told you that if Trump didn’t win 600 electoral votes, the fix was in. That was tough, fighting the urge to scream THERE’S ONLY 538 VOTES, YOU MORON. But then your cousin, who you are convinced had to be the result of an affair your aunt had given how dumb your aunt and uncle are, piped up with “Dad, for God’s sake, there are only 538 electoral votes!” Kudos to remaining calm when he shot back with “Since when?!?”

Then there’s the other uncle, who doesn’t say much. Just sits and stares. His truck full of kinda-violent right-wing bumper stickers does the talking for him. As awkward as his gruff “yeah, not too bad” is in response to anything you say in a desperate attempt to make small talk is, no matter what you say on whatever subject (weather, sportsball, etc.), at least he’s not loud. But that stare…

Your ditzy sister-in-law will no doubt bring up her COVID conspiracy theories, how the vaccines are full of autism chips or whatever. She’s the star of a semi-viral Youtube video titled “Crazy woman screaming at Wal-Mart employee about Bill Gates” (up to 500,000 views now), so best to remain silent.

Mom and Dad are, of course, Mom and Dad. Hopefully, Dad won’t do anything like what he did during Thanksgiving 2017, when he told everyone about his prostate exam during dinner. While Mom sat there quietly staring at her plate, her only defense.

Haven’t even mentioned your QAnon cousin, your nephew who was at January 6, and your brother-in-law who tries to get you to buy Herbalife.

But you prepared for this, right? You read that “15 Tips for Navigating Uncomfortable Conversations at Thanksgiving” in Slate, correct? Or was it Vulture? Or Vox? Anyway, you’ll give that a go until you realize none of the tips work for dealing with your family, which will happen in the expanse of about 20 seconds. At least you can have a second glass of wine to cope.

Oh, that’s right…alcohol hasn’t been a part of your family’s Thanksgiving since 2008, when another one of your cousins got hammered on Carlo Rossi and fell into Mom’s Precious Moments display, leaving behind a mess of regret and tiny pieces of porcelain. One of which lodged in Dad’s foot one night eight months later while he was on a mission to get a midnight snack. The infection eventually cleared up.

So another Thanksgiving is here, with that crazy family of yours, complete with all the awkward, enraging, and annoying stuff they bring to each gathering. Maybe next year, you’ll just say, ‘you know what, it’s just going to be us. We won’t go anywhere, we’ll have a nice dinner here, no tension, just relaxation. And that will be so nice.’

Yeah, right. We both know Mom won’t be okay with that.

The last word goes to a Thanksgiving as dysfunctional as yours.

 

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Saturday Odds & Sods: Into The Lens

BERJAYA

Noir et blanches by Man Ray.

New Orleans weather is as variable during the fall as it is unchanging in the summertime. It’s been cold and dry then warm and muggy, but I have not resorted to air-conditioning. So it goes.

The Orleans Parish runoff election is scheduled for December 11th. I’m supporting an old school NOLA pol in one race and a reformer who’s running against an old school NOLA pol in another. Sometimes I even confuse myself.

I voted to reelect Jay Banks as my district city councilmember. He ran first in the primary despite all the mud thrown at him by his “reformer” opponents. They lost me forever when I saw that they’d rented a billboard together to plug their primary candidacies. Collusion is a bad look.

In the Sheriff’s race, longtime incumbent Marlin Gusman just missed winning in the first round. He’s a terrible sheriff but an excellent politician. I’m voting for his opponent, Susan Hutson, but she looks like a long shot because of all the local political muscle massed against her.

Like many others on the left, Team Hutson seems to underestimate how conservative many older black people are. When I was a neighborhood leader, the most rabid people about crime were elderly black folks. They’re also comfortable with Gusman who is favored to stay in office despite all the outside money being spent on behalf of his opponent.

This week’s theme song was written by Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes in 1980. It began life with the title I Am A Camera and was intended for the Buggles second album. Then Horn and Downes joined Yes, and it became Into The Lens, the first track of side two of the Drama LP.

We have the song in both incarnations for your listening pleasure. I prefer the Yes version because of Howe’s guitar and Squire’s bass, but Downes excels on keyboard on both versions.

There’s an oddball link between our theme song and this week’s Friday Cocktail Hour. Cabaret was based on John Van Druten’s 1951 play I Am A Camera, which in turn was adapted from Christopher Isherwood’s 1939 novel Goodbye To Berlin. It doesn’t get much odder than that.

Before we nod off like Lee Miller in the May Ray featured image, let’s jump to the break.

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Saturday Odds & Sods: How Will I Ever Be Simple Again

BERJAYA

Two Comedians by Edward Hopper

April 2020 was Richard Thompson/Edward Hopper month Odds & Sods-wise. I couldn’t resist reviving the combination for this week’s entry. They go together like peas and carrots.

Today is Dr. A’s birthday as well as municipal election day. I haven’t been that electorally engaged this cycle. Perhaps it’s the deluge of flyers we’re gotten in the mail. New Orleans pols save their low blows for direct mail. My policy is to disbelieve everything in them. I call them lying flyers.

This week’s theme song was written by Richard Thompson in 1986 for the Daring Adventures album. It was the first RT album to be produced by Mitchell Froom. Does that make it a Froom With A View? Beats the hell outta me.

We have three versions of How Will I Ever Be Simple Again for your listening pleasure: the studio original, Emmylou Harris, and RT and Emmylou live.

The stars have aligned with a second RT/EH combination. I wonder if Emmylou likes the art of Edward Hopper. Another mystery to ponder.

Now that we’ve simplified our lives, let’s complicate them by jumping to the break or is that breaking to the jump? Beats the hell outta me.

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Saturday Odds & Sods: Wouldn’t It Be Nice

BERJAYA

The Great Wave by Hokusai.

I’ve been having wild dreams lately. I actually dreamt about writing The Truman Myth. The opening line came to me in my sleep: “I was present at the creation of the Truman myth.”

Present At The Creation was the title of Truman’s Secretary of State and unlikely friend Dean Acheson’s memoir. It’s not quite as fanciful as Miller-McCullough Man but it comes close.

It’s been crazy hot this week. I’ve been huddling under ceiling fans with the AC roaring and I’m still sweating. Oh well, what the hell.

I realize that the featured image has become something of a cliche since it appears on tchotchkes and such. Don’t blame the Hokusai guy for that or me for using it. It fits the Beach Boys like a glove.

This week’s theme song was written by Brian Wilson, Tony Asher, and Mike Love for the Beach Boys finest album Pet Sounds. Even professional asshole Mike Love did something right from time-to-time.

We have two versions of Wouldn’t It Be Nice for your listening pleasure: the studio original, the Beach Boys at Live Aid, and Alex Chilton.

Nice was my mother’s favorite word. She used it to praise people, places, and things. She liked this nice song as well:

Now that we’ve made nice let’s jump to the break,

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Andrew, Andrew, Andrew

BERJAYA

I’m not talking Prince Andrew, Andrew Cuomo, Andrew Yang, or even Andrew Jackson, I’m talking Andrew Giuliani. He was previously known to me as a low-level Trump aide who mostly played golf with the boss, and as the subject of a SNL sketch about Rudy’s 1994 inauguration at which the kid could not sit still. Chris Farley played Andrew Giuliani who is now 35 years old. Rudy’s spawn says he enjoyed being played by Chris Farley.

Here’s a different sketch wherein Chris Farley played young Andrew:

Why am I writing about Andrew Giuliani? He says he’s running for the GOP nomination for New York Governor against the Other Andrew with a famous father.

You gotta give young Andrew credit for making a bold statement: “I’m a politician out of the womb.”

That’s nice.

He may be running so he can pardon Rudy, Rudy, Rudy or Donald, Donald, Donald if either is convicted of a state crime. That’s a possibility now that Tish James and Cy Vance are tag teaming the Impeached Insult Comedian. Is Rudy next? Only the Shadow knows and he’s a character nobody knows any more…

New Yorkers are known to have a sense of humor. Why else would Andrew Yang be polling so well in the race for Rudy’s old job? But Governor Andrew Giuliani? The same job held by TR, Al Smith, FDR, Tom Dewey, Herbert Lehman, Nelson Rockefeller, and Mario Cuomo? Oy just oy.

The whole thing makes me miss Chris Farley. I wonder if there’s a QAnon theory that he’s really alive and living in that van down by the river.

BERJAYA

I bet Andrew G can’t dance like Chris F.

The last word goes to Frank Zappa with a song about a famous Andrew who went by Andy. That would be paunchy Western movie sidekick Andy Devine.

FZ’s opening lines seem to apply to both Giuliani father and son: “Is there anything good inside of you. If there is, I really wanna know.”

I do too, Rudy and Andrew.

Since we’re talking fathers and sons, here’s Dweezil Zappa’s version:

 

A Plea From The Republican Party

Republican Yellow Box

Great fallings will be onto you if you uncheck the box!

Wonderful greetings. I wish upon you peace and happiness on this beautiful day.

Please allow me to make my introduction. I am Great Honorable Leader Member of Glorious Senate Mitchell McConnell and I have a great and prosperous message for you please.

Here in my country the Republican States of American (g-d be praised) we are under attack from hideous outside force called Demoncrats. They intend to prey on all the innocents unborn and otherwise with their Satanic thoughts and way of life.

Their grandmaster the most dishonorable Joseph Hussein Biden wishes to undo all progress made toward our glorious and pure rebirth by the most splendid and definitely re-elected leader Donald Trump (blessed is his name).

  • He will bring forth a day when all you earn is given to those who do no work and live only for the convenience of the corner store and a pack of six liquored malt.
  • He will cleanse the air of your job and the water of your child’s and force you to take work for which you are untrained and unwilling to train.
  • He will force upon you more of the wicked Obamacare and make it more difficult for honest insurance companies to properly and majestically disapprove drugs and procedures “doctors” say are required.
  • He will send his murderous thugs to remove from your home your legally bought and honorably paid for AR15 which you use to protect your family only and has never been used nor will ever be used to commit the crime.
  • He will use his “justice department” to expel from the Congress the many defenders of the cause such as Her Rightness Margery Taylor Green, Her Eminent Lauren Boebert, and the very sexy and not at all creepy Most Definitely Not A Predator Matt Gaetz.
  • He wishes to bring us a great tithe called Increased Corporate Tax which shall take from those with no voice in Washington and give to those who do not look or sound like you. Why is it fair to tax our Corporate brethren so much when it should be Demoncrats who should pay the tax!
  • He wants to “rebuild” infrastructure. Of what use is that? We have all the bridges we need, all the roads, all the sewers. Even our unfailing electrical gridiron works perfectly, especially in states that rarely see snow or cold weather.
  • And worst he will make the elections by which our power is flowing impossible for us to win by allowing all the many infidels who follow him to vote as they please with no chance for us to properly determine if such votes are valid and real which of course they are not.

You MUST NOT allow these things to happen.  It is only through your contributions to the cause of freedom that we are able to prevent such disaster.

Please I beg of you to take a moment and send a contribution to us so we can continue to do the great work of preserving our Republican way of life.

We have made it super easy simple for you by already checking the yellow box above so you need not uncheck it. Remember IF YOU UNCHECK THE BOX OUR LEADER WILL BE ANGRY WITH YOU! You do not want to make our leader unhappiness. If you UNCHECK this box, we will have to tell the 45th(tm) you’re a DEFECTOR and have gone over to the Demoncrats.

Hoping that is never the case please feel the free to contact me with any ideas you may have. I am always in the love of hearing from good honest Republican citizens such as yourself.

Email: senator@mcconnell.senate.gov

Phone: 202-224-2541

With all the blessings of Trump, I remain as always, your most humble

Mitch McConnell

Shapiro Out

Saturday Odds & Sods: Pennies From Heaven

BERJAYA

Photograph by Stanley Kubrick.

I committed a faux pas the other day and accidentally published something. I planned to curate a quote from a marvelous teevee essay by MSNBC’s Laurence O’Donnell about our border issues. Instead the whole damn  thing went out raw and I pulled it after it lingered overnight. Here’s a link to the transcript. Scroll down 3/4 of the way and Bob’s your uncle. Make that Uncle Laurence. I’m neither Irish nor from Boston but I’ll claim him.

In jab talking news, Governor Edwards has opened COVID vaccinations to all Gret Steters over the age of 16. I welcome everyone to the Half Vaccinated club. On April 3rd, I will enter of the realm of the fully vaccinated. Cue sigh of relief.

Our theme song continues the flow of the week. In this case from my most recent 13th Ward Rambler column. Pennies From Heaven was written in 1936 by Arthur Johnstone and Johnny Burke. It’s been a hit more times and by more artists that you can shake a stick at. Why one would do such a thing is beyond me.

We have three versions of Pennies From Heaven for your listening pleasure: Frank Sinatra, Louis Prima & Keely Smith, and an instrumental by Stan Getz and Oscar Peterson.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love Oscar Peterson? I know: repeatedly. My Oscar love will never wane. That goes for my much missed kitty as well.

Before we jump to the break, look up like the girl in the Kubrick photograph so you can dodge the pennies from heaven.

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Saturday Odds & Sods: Do You Feel Like We Do

BERJAYA

Cocktails by Archibald Motley.

The cold weather is gone for now. We haven’t run the heater for a few days. Yay. I shudder to think what our next utility bill will be, but it won’t be like the budget-busters in unregulated Texas; at least I hope not. Freedom, man.

I’m feeling cautiously optimistic on the COVID front. But some people are already getting carried away. That’s been the pattern and it’s a lethal one. I’m keeping my guard up even after I get vaccinated, which should be in the next few weeks. Let’s be careful out there.

The featured image is by Archibald Motley who was a Jazz Age modernist active during the Harlem Renaissance. The image is of well-dressed Black ladies having cocktails. I’d call them flappers but that could cause a flap, Jack…

This week’s theme song was written by Peter Frampton for his 1973 semi-solo, semi-band album Frampton’s Camel. It’s the ultimate rock hangover song.

An edited version of a live version from the monster hit album, Frampton Comes Alive later became a hit single. How’s that for a version diversion? I hope it was diverting.

We have two versions (there’s that word again) of Do You Feel Like We Do for your listening pleasure: the studio original and a 2000 live performance.

We’ll have more about Peter Frampton after the break. We might as well go now.

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He Works Hardly For the Money

BERJAYA

NEWS REPORT:

Donald Trump has asked to be allowed to live at Mar-A-Lago permanently, claiming he is an employee and therefore eligible for an exemption prohibiting members of the club from living there fulltime. 

Lights up on the Human Resources office of the Mar-A-Lago club in Palm Beach Florida. Seated at her desk is MARLA, the HR Manager. She is reading through a file, then uses the intercom to buzz her secretary.

MARLA: June, is the next candidate for the open position still waiting?

JUNE: (over the intercom) Yes, he’s still here. I think he’s getting a little jumpy.

MARLA: OK tell him to come in, but June (sotto voce) make sure to buzz me in a few minutes, you know the drill.

JUNE: (over the intercom) Got it Ms. Marple.

DONALD TRUMP enters from the waiting room.

MARLA: Welcome, please have a seat.

DONALD: Any seat? Can I sit where I want?

MARLA: Take your pick.

DONALD looks around sees there is only one other chair, considers it, then carefully sits down.

MARLA: (looking at the file) Now Donald, may I call you Don?

DONALD: I prefer the 45th president.

MARLA: OK, Don, my name is Marla Marple and I’m head of HR here at Mar-A-Lago. I understand you are applying for a position with the club, but it doesn’t say exactly which position.

DONALD: I’ll take anything.

MARLA: (smiling wearily) Yes, well, as you may guess, many people want to work here…

DONALD: I’m totally legal. I have a birth certificate to prove I was born in the USA. Just like that Springstern song says.

MARLA: OK, that’s helpful, but I mean most people who want to work here have a specific job they are applying for. Your application just says “anything where I get to live here and you won’t send me back to New York”.

DONALD: Yes, I can’t go back there.

MARLA: And that’s because?

DONALD: Tax reasons.

MARLA: You owe back taxes?

DONALD: Suuuurrrree.

DONALD looks to see what kind of reaction that gets from MARLA. Her face is noncommittal. 

DONALD: I had some problems with my past returns, they were always getting audited, I’d show them to you but you know they are still under audit, but they are perfectly fine, nothing wrong with them, it was a perfect call…

MARLA: What call?

DONALD: Um, what?

MARLA: What call are you talking about?

DONALD: No call, nothing, fake news.

MARLA: All right then. I see here on your application you spent the last four years in Washington D.C., is that correct?

DONALD: I drained the swamp.

MARLA: So you were a plumber?

DONALD sees an in with MARLA

DONALD: I was the best plumber. The bigleyest.

MARLA: I’m sorry, you were what?

DONALD: The bigleyest. You know, better than the best.

MARLA: Oh, okay, bigleyest. Well, sure

DONALD: You know Miss Marple…

MARLA: It’s Ms. Marple.

DONALD: Whatever. Marla Marple. I used to be married to someone with a name very similar to yours.

MARLA: So you’re divorced?

DONALD: No, I’m still married. At least for the moment.

MARLA: To Marla?

DONALD: No, Melania.

MARLA: Marla sounds like Melania?

DONALD: No Melania sounds like, um, Melania. Marla is my former wife.

MARLA: Ah, a first marriage.

DONALD: No a second.

MARLA: Right, Melania is your second marriage.

DONALD: No, Melania is my third marriage.

MARLA: Who was your first marriage?

DONALD: Ivana.

MARLA: So Ivana was on first, Marla was on second, and Melania is on third. Any children?

DONALD: Ivanka.

MARLA: Is that a son or a daughter?

DONALD: A daughter of course. If it was a son it would be Donka.

MARLA: OK, any other children?

DONALD: With Ivana there was also Don Jr. and, um, the slow one. Then with Marla there was Tiffany, we named her after..

MARLA: The singer?

DONALD: No, where she was conceived. And with Melania there’s Barron.

MARLA: Your son is a baron?

DONALD leans in to MARLA

DONALD: And one day he’ll be king.

MARLA: OK, so may I ask, why did you leave your last position?

DONALD: I didn’t leave it, I’m still there, it’s still my job, I’m not a loser.

MARLA: You still have this other job?

DONALD: I won that job in a landslide, everybody knows it. A landslide! Vlad said it would be no problem, just like when I won the first time. But then they had to go and let everyone vote by mail and Vlad said just get someone to screw up the mail system but even that didn’t work so I made a few phone calls, perfect phone calls…

MARLA: Oh the phone call you mentioned earlier?

DONALD: No this was another call, but just as perfect. Except he recorded it…by the way, if I get this job I don’t have to go to Georgia, do I?

MARLA: Georgia? No, we need someone to be the night super, I can’t see us needing to send the night super to Georgia.

DONALD: Good, can’t go there right now.

MARLA: Another tax problem?

DONALD: Suuuurrrreee.

MARLA: OK, well let me explain, the night super job requires you be up late at night, you probably won’t have to do much but you need to be awake and alert throughout the night. Do you think you can handle doing that?

DONALD inhales deeply through his nose.

DONALD: Yes, I don’t think that will be a problem.

The intercom buzzes. 

JANE: (over the intercom) Ms. Marple your two o’clock is here.

MARLA: Well thank you for coming in Don. I’ve got one more applicant to see and we’ll let you know.

DONALD: Another applicant? It’s not Joe is it? I’m not losing another job to Joe.

MARLA: Actually it’s a woman applicant I’ve got next.

DONALD: Hillary!!

BLACKOUT

 

SHAPIRO out