Young Frankenstein [1974)

Hollywood.

It’s been a bad week for Hollywood.

And a rough week for me.

But John Cusack hasn’t sent a hitman after me ūüôā

Not yet.

I guess.

But let’s dispense with all these murderous liberals.

Let’s give them no more airtime here.

Jerks like Seth Rogen (who made jokes last week at the expense of a man in intensive care who at been stabbed nine times).

And let’s only mention Pedowood in passing.

The Hollywood run by pedophiles.

About which Corey Feldman has spoken.

About which Elijah Wood has spoken.

About which Ashton Kutcher has spoken.

About which Nicole Kidman has spoken.

And about which Stanley Kubrick spoke.

Ugly, nasty Hollywood.

Let’s not speak about Operation Broken Heart III (in which 238 “suspected child sex predators” [including “household names” as yet to be divulged] were recently arrested).

http://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-ln-operation-broken-heart-arrests-20160621-snap-story.html

And yet, the “household names” seem to be slithering away so far.

So let us not talk of John Podesta, of whom we have talked so much.

Nor Kevin Spacey, who has preemptively (?) blocked me on Twitter ūüôā

What do these folks have to fear?

Spacey, of course, famously rode on convicted child sex offender Jeffrey Epstein’s infamous Lolita Express (private plane). ¬†If I am not mistaken, Spacey’s trip aboard the aircraft coincided with one of Bill Clinton’s MANY trips aboard that airplane.

So yes.

Let us not speak of this.

Let us, in fact, celebrate (?) the fact that I am actually once again reviewing a film in my own peculiar way ūüôā

This was a personal favorite of mine as a kid.

Mel Brooks made a very fine film.

It hangs together nicely.

And the trio of actresses (Madeline Kahn, Teri Garr, and Cloris Leachman) who festoon this production bring a real joy of variety to the whole affair.

But the real star, besides the amazing Gene Wilder, is Marty Feldman.

Which brings us to Jimmy Savile.

Let me be clear:  Marty Feldman, for all I know, was just a damned funny comedian.

But he bears a striking resemblance to the infamous Savile.

And thus we must talk about what needs talking about.

Savile was a British eccentric.

[one who gave eccentricity an extremely bad name]

His Wikipedia page lists the following as his métiers:

  • DJ
  • television personality
  • radio personality
  • dance hall manager

But he will sadly be remembered mainly as a sexual predator who preyed (it seems) primarily on those in hospitals and psychiatric institutions to which he had access as part of his celebrity and “charity fundraising”.

He may have raped children (and elderly) in as many as 28 National Health Service hospitals in the U.K.

Said Jeremy Hunt, U.K. Secretary of State for Health in 2014:

“Savile was a callous, opportunistic, wicked predator who abused and raped individuals, many of them patients and young people, who expected and had a right to expect to be safe. His actions span five decades — from the 1960s to 2010. … As a nation at that time we held Savile in our affection as a somewhat eccentric national treasure with a strong commitment to charitable causes. Today’s reports show that in reality he was a sickening and prolific sexual abuser who repeatedly exploited the trust of a nation for his own vile purposes.”

So I should just go back to reviewing Young Frankenstein, right?

Or should I wonder why John Cusack has blocked me and thousands of Trump supporters on Twitter?

Or why Kevin Spacey seems to have blocked a very large number of people on Twitter who have (at one time or another) talked about “pizzagate” or “pedogate”?

Or should we talk of Cardinal George Pell?

This week has been a bad week for Cardinal Pell ūüôā

New York¬†magazine’s article title about sums it up: ¬†“The Pope’s Pedophile?”

http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2017/06/cardinal-pell-and-the-vaticans-day-of-reckoning.html

That’s right.

Pope Francis’s “right-hand man”.

The man [Pell] in charge of the Vatican’s finances.

[remember the infamous Mr. Michele Sindona]

And for one more ingredient, let’s add former U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder’s strange 3 a.m. tweet from last night:

“To the career men & women at DOJ/FBI: your actions and integrity will be unfairly questioned. Be prepared, be strong. Duty. Honor. Country.”

What the fuck?!?

I thought only nutbags like me tweeted at 3 a.m. ūüôā

And Trump!

But Holder seems to be telegraphing something.

What the fuck is about to happen?

Something/Anything?

Nothing?

Will the U.S. “Deep State” (which appears to be so highly-addicted to pedophilia and occult ritual) finally be exposed?

Will Hollywood finally be exposed in such a way as to make Kenneth Anger rise from the grave?

What is this Babylon that we are witnessing?

In closing,¬†Young Frankenstein is a very entertaining film…which I highly recommend.

No ūüôā

Remember friends:  sometimes only humor can get us through the valley of the shadow of death.

And, for me, I pray to God.

I saw this wickedness coming long ago.

The level of vile crimes has already disgusted me and freaked me out before.

So I pray that you will be strong, my friends, as many bad things are revealed.

There are heroes in the world.

And those are such as former Navy SEAL Craig Sawyer.

His organization Veterans for Child Rescue is taking on the scourge of child sex trafficking.

He’s a sniper.

He’s been to war.

He’s not afraid of guys in suits.

Guys like Podesta and Soros.

And he’s not alone.

He’s been on the teams that go in and rescue kids that are literally in cages.

Check out that first article above.

It’s talking about a 6-year-old kid being raped.

The kid is lent out by the parent for $250 dollars.

And it gets much worse than that.

Let’s not talk about New York City Mayor Bill di Blasio’s employee Jacob Schwartz who was recently busted for child pornography.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4546320/De-Blasio-employee-arrested-child-pornography.html

My friends, this young man (age 29) was apparently aroused by sexual photos of SIX-MONTH-OLD BABIES.

And I have to say it one more time:  it gets worse than that.

So when you see photos of Mr. Schwartz and Hillary Clinton campaign manager Robby Mook, pay those photos no mind, right?

And when you find to what ends Mr. Mook and Mr. John Podesta (Hillary Clinton’s campaign chair) went to concoct the “Russian collusion” (or, variously, “Russian hacking”) story which the largely-liberal U.S. media swallowed whole-cloth, you might begin to wonder just what dark secrets Mr. Podesta (and Hillary Clinton, for that matter) is hiding.

http://www.breitbart.com/big-government/2017/04/21/shattered-revelation-clinton-campaign-hatched-russian-hacking-narrative-24-hours-after-hillarys-loss/

For those in a hurry:

“That strategy had been set within twenty-four hours of her concession speech. Mook and Podesta assembled her communications team at the Brooklyn headquarters to engineer the case that the election wasn‚Äôt entirely on the up-and-up. For a couple of hours, with Shake Shack containers littering the room, they went over the script they would pitch to the press and the public. Already, Russian hacking was the centerpiece of the argument.”

The quote comes from¬†Jonathan Allen and Amie Parnes’s book¬†Shattered: ¬†Inside Hillary Clinton’s Doomed Campaign.

So once again, see¬†Young Frankenstein¬†ūüôā

 

-PD

The grey suit in NXNW [1959/2017)

Maybe.

After many long years.

I finally got a decent suit.

But the pinnacle is still Cary Grant in North by Northwest.

Perhaps more important than Dorothy’s slippers.

The grey suit.

Gray?  Grey.

Because Archibald Leach (Grant’s real name) was from Bristol.

Now.

The debate rages on.

Was it Norton & Sons (Savile Row) or Quintino (Beverly Hills)?

And this is a very important matter.

Basis in fact.

Innocent lives are at stake here.

Vanity Fair (at least they employed Tosches for a time) contends it was a British suit.

http://www.vanityfair.com/news/2008/03/behindthescenes200803

But The Independent counters that it was an American (Beverly Hills) tailor.

My first thought is always The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (novel 1955, film 1956).

1959.

Something in the air.

Advertising.

Madison.

Shopping.

5th.

Whatever you do, don’t buy a property at 666 5th Avenue.

Mr. Kushner made that mistake.

Can you change an address?

Can we inch the building over a bit?

666 1/2?

But finally, that eternal quote of Mike Ruppert:

“The CIA is Wall Street. ¬†Wall Street is the CIA.”

What could all this mean?

What could ANY of this mean?

It’s well-known.

But the real danger is Finnegans Wake.

Is it unpredictability?

The real danger is changing stripes.

Spots.

Markings.

Camouflage.

A mask.

My daily trousers are sweatpants.

And then we must bring in Erik Satie.

As dangerous (harmless) a man as ever lived.

The “Velvet Gentleman”.

Seven gray velvet suits.  All identical.  One for each day of the week.

A revolution in simplicity.

But there are many, many hours of piano music to wade through.

Through which.

It’s not just the¬†Gymnop√©dies.

Or even the Gnossiennes.

SS.

It’s a veritable Voynich manuscript of eccentricity.

Quixotic.

Mercurial.

Bizarre!

But with Magritte we got the grey bowler.

And Max Ernst: ¬†“The hat makes the man.”

But did he say it in English?

Not bloody likely!

And so rail-thin Cary Grant, almost certainly homosexual, looks stunning…dapper…a paragon of class in¬†North by¬†Northwest.

And it is a rare time where I (and many other men) say: ¬†“Wow…I want that business suit!”

Because I didn’t grow up rich.

And it took me till age 40 to get a passable sack.

Brooks Brothers was expensive.

Still is.

I’m low-rent.

High-brow.

A conundrum.

I don’t want to sell oil.

I’m a city boy.

They won’t take me on the farm.

So what am I?

Do I ride around on a horse?

Do I spit tobacco into a cuspidor?

[not anymore]

We must go away.  To come back.  And see for the first time.

What was Jia Zhangke talking about?

Or from?

The I Ching?

Or some Zen text?

Advertising.

Memetics.

Messaging.

COMMUNICATIONS

We are drawn to the suit.

The breezy ease with which Cary Grant negotiates New York sidewalk traffic.

Every remark quick.

Never at a loss for words.

And the characters all pay attention.

From Martin Landau to Eva Marie Saint:  menswear.

Three buttons.

[a detail I missed…too late]

Buttons on cuffs.

Cufflinks.

Two-piece.

The most remarkable aspect, though, might be the “grey suit with grey tie” effect.

I mean, “what the fuck”?!?

It is slightly “off”.

Not the color-matching.

That’s fine.

But the concept.

Or this hypothetical exchange:

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Gray.”

“Gray?”

“Yeah, I don’t know…I just like gray.”

“What about it do you like?”

“I don’t know…it’s sorta mysterious?”

“Ok…but, I mean, it seems sorta drab, don’t you think?”

“Well, I’m not in the market for a gray bikini…”

Ah!

There’s the gender.

Men.

Do men fancy grey?

Is it one of the colors they’ve been “given”?

And women.

Do they really fancy pink?

I suppose some diabolical seamstress has plotted the complementary colors of all the world’s hetero couples.

Grey and pink.

Pink and green.

Orange and blue.

Red and green.

Purple and yellow.

Ad absurdum.

All I can say is this.

I feel spectacular in my new gray suit.

I’m a little closer to Daniel Craig, though mostly in the Cary Grant body type.

Or, put differently, I’m an extremely-poor-man’s Daniel Craig ūüôā

I, too, would look scrawny next to James Bond.

Which segues nicely into the 007 franchise.

Suits…again.

Whether in Jamaica or parts unknown.

The sartorial fastidiousness would play a major role in framing Bond as “not just another guy”.

Taste.

An eye for detail.

Quality.

And personality, though understated.

The grey suit.

It the biggest weapon in my fashion arsenal (as of today).

And thus we turn towards commerce.

Another run, perhaps, of job searching.

Selling myself.

But at a certain point you just gotta say, “Fuck it!”

I’m a cool person.

I ain’t out to hurt nobody.

I read books.

Big fucking books.

About math and shit like that.

I’m a nerd to the nth power.

I know that.

And I’m fine with that.

Because I see the value in that.

So now I may have to bludgeon the HR receptors with a whole new level of qualifications.

Can I do it?

Can I be a lawyer?

Can I be a PhD?

[notably, perhaps, in advertising]

And beyond.

Because life has led me to this impasse.

We worry about bread on the table.

And some milk to stay healthy.

Heat in the winter.

Cooling in the summer.

Most of all…in all this mess of writing…I am thankful.

Thankful for a chance.  A chance to do the right things.

And thankful for family.  Thankful for time.

Thankful for intuition.

And thankful for failure.

Have your cake.  Or eat it.

Thank you, my friends…for your support.

I am happy today.  Hard day, as always.

And I pray the good happenings for each of you…in your lives…

-PD

Blondie’s New York [2014)

Man…

So much I could say about this one.

But it’s one of the few times where I can say, “I worked with that person.”

Clem Burke.

Probably wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.

Now.

Because I’m a Trump supporter.

But he was the best drummer I was ever in the same room with.

And drumming was the longest “career” I ever had.

I’ve played drums since I was a kid.

All of them.

The set.

“Traps” ūüôā

Orchestral snare drum.

Marimba.

The whole 4-mallet thing.

Jazz vibraphone.

But when I worked with Clem, I was a bass player.

That day.

That year.

For awhile.

It was the bass that took me to England.

To Scotland.

And to Spain.

And it was the bass that first took me to Los Angeles.

But this is about Blondie.

The band.

And what a band!

Based on my own experiences just mentioned, I can attest to the extremely high musicianship of Clem Burke.

And watching this relatively-short documentary (an hour) convinces me of just how special each of the band members were/are.

But perhaps my favorite part is seeing Mike Chapman work.

The record producer.

What a talent!

It was my dream to be a record producer.

Didn’t really work out ūüôā

Tough business.

Maybe you fuck up.

Or maybe no one helps you.

Or maybe you get one chance.  And only one chance.

But that’s ok.

Because life goes on.

Marilyn Monroe aged.

Lou Reed sang about it on the Velvets’ “New Age”.

And Godard wrote about it.

The aging of Marilyn Monroe must have been a traumatic phenomenon for the first generation of movie goers.

The first generation with that color reality.

And with the television buttress.

And Marilyn…

Even Elton John, a homosexual man, was in love with Marilyn…in a sort of way.

“Candle in the Wind”

Which brings us to Debbie Harry.

The former cocktail waitress from Max’s Kansas City.

Chickpeas and lobster.

Park Avenue South.

And brings us to the album Parallel Lines.

This documentary is almost strictly about that album.

About Blondie’s breakthrough into the mainstream.

Yeah, they were punk…

Had the street cred.

But they transcended.

Mostly due to musicianship.

A bit like the Talking Heads.

The other bands were hopelessly arty.

Of this scene.

My favorite, Suicide.

[R.I.P. Alan Vega]

I met Alan once.

Changed my life.

But Suicide never really had a hit.

[Nooo…you don’t say?!?]

Yeah.

The name.

Whoa mama!

But that was punk.

And my whole mission is a bit of a punk mission.

Pauly Deathwish.

Uh huh.

Not a name I came up with.

But given to me.

I remember that day.

And the personages.

But my mission is also a bit like the mission of Greil Marcus.

And Lipstick Traces.

Now I’d just prefer to read Debord.

Or read Len Bracken on the Situationists.

But Greil tries (valiantly!) to pull it all together.

And I’m a bit like that kind of wanker.

Just hoping to SOUND like I know it all.

And someday have Harvard written on my spine.

But we’ve hardly discussed Blondie.

Or this excellent little film.

Which is currently streaming on Netflix in the U.S.

Again Kino Lorber’s marketing team (?) seems to be absent behind this release.

There’s no Wikipedia page.

And the iMDB page lists the title of this made-for-TV-affair as¬†Blondie’s New York and the Making of Parallel Lines.

Ok, so it’s not¬†Citizen Kane.

But it’s well worth watching!

Directed by Alan Ravenscroft.

He does a fine job here.

It really is a magical story.

Punk.

New York City.

CBGB-OMFUG.

The Fugs! ūüôā

New York, a magical place.

Hell, even mayor Ed Koch is in this.

And he’s much easier to stomach than Bill Clinton.

I don’t care…liberal, conservative…whatever.

Just don’t be a dick!

And if you’re a dick, have the schtick down!!

Like Trump.

He has the schtick down.

He’s learned to lie.

In his many years.

“The babies, the beautiful babies…the innocent babies”…

There were no babies, my friends.

There was no chemical attack.

That footage was in the can for some time.

But it’s a white lie in the world of geopolitics.

It’s like telling your kids that Santa Claus delivered the presents.

There’s no way to explain, “I’ve gotta bomb Syria to make an impression on China. ¬†And the bombing has to happen almost simultaneously with dinner…at Mar-a-Lago.”

And McMaster must be lying too.

That’s ok.

Just don’t make a habit of it.

Because then you’re CIA.

And that’s a dark road.

To get wrapped up in lies.

But the white lies are synthetic terror where nobody dies.

Even the Russian/Syrian body count.

Likely false.

Especially the “four kids” detail.

Pithy.

Icy.

The Democrats are really (I mean it, unfortunately) exceptionally dumb.

They only sense the general outline of the conspiracy.

Russia’s faux indignation.

But they don’t understand that their infantile foreign policy made such machinations necessary.

Blondie ūüôā

And Quintilian.

See the documentary.

Forget about North Korea for a moment.

By all means, don’t watch inferior propaganda.

The Propaganda Game?

Great film.

Songs from the North?

Cinematic equivalent of toilet paper.

The Cinémathèque Française knew the value of propaganda films.

Henri Langlois.

Back when they were educating “the five” (Godard, Truffaut, Chabrol, Rivette, and Rohmer).

And Godard understood the importance of “good”, well-crafted, persuasive propaganda.

As Jacques Ellul wrote in 1962, “Ineffective propaganda is no propaganda.”

In other words, it has no business calling itself propaganda.

It’s less-than-worthless.

But kick back with some Machiavelli.

And The Art of the Deal.

And remember the unholy marriage of art and commerce that is and was Blondie.

-PD

Superman [1978)

First, I owe a deep apology to my fellow bloggers who have continued to follow and support me.¬† I have been swamped with work and embroiled in the current US election.¬† Thank you so much for your kindness!¬† I look forward to graduating with a master’s degree in about a month and hope to “get back on the wagon” of following each and every one of your amazing blogs.

Second, my conscience requires that I addend my previous takes on two very controversial figures:¬† Marina Abramovińá and Edward Snowden.

As I have continued my research on Ms. Abramovińá, I am more and more convinced that her dabblings in the occult are not mere innocent instances of artistic expression.¬† I still do not know what role she plays in the increasingly lurid child sex ring which is leaking from NYPD and FBI sources, but her buddies the Podestas (John Podesta, Hillary’s campaign chairman, and his brother Tony) seem more and more solidly “in the tank” as regards genuine sexual abuse of minors, child trafficking, and (even more shocking) ritualistic murder of these same kidnapped children.

I am not saying that the Podestas are guilty of these crimes.  I am, however, pointing out that mounting evidence suggests they are part of something which bears this general outline.  Also involved is the (likely) Saudi spy Huma Abedin.  But the kingpins seem to be the Clintons themselves.

I was a bit dismissive of hysteria when I defended Marina Abramovińá’s artistic merits.¬† I do still think she is an incredibly gifted artist.¬† But no amount of genius excuses child rape and ritualistic murder of young people.¬† [We shall be discussing here a similarly “brilliant” psychopath:¬† Lex Luthor.]

Quite frankly, Hillary Clinton seems to be a witch in the most literal sense.

Lexi Luthor?

Lexus Luthor?

It was my imperfect knowledge which caused my failure to grasp the bigger picture in the Abramovińá case (“spirit cooking”, in which the Podesta brothers and John’s wife Mary engaged in presumably a dinner with artist Marina Abramovińá which likely involved ingesting breast milk, semen, urine, and blood).

But there is more to “spirit cooking”…and more to Marina Abramovińá.

First, it has been suggested that the TRUEST (most genuine) “spirit cooking” would be, essentially, cannibalism:¬† eating the flesh or organs of spirits (dead children) who are cooked.

Second, Abramovińá’s references are not anodyne.¬† I cannot get into the details of “spirit cooking’s” connections to Aleister Crowley and Thelema because I am not conversant in such esoteric knowledge.¬† But I can confirm that child sacrifice is an obsession of the ruling elites in at least the US and UK (as evidenced by the opening ceremonies of Bohemian Club meetings near San Francisco which are documented to include a “mock” child sacrifice called “the cremation of care”).

My conclusion that Hillary Clinton truly practices illegal manifestations of magic is partly due to the words of former Clinton family employee Larry Nichols who is on record as saying that Bill Clinton told him that Hillary Clinton would make monthly (at least) treks to California to participate in a witches’ coven.¬† You can bet she wasn’t playing second fiddle at these shindigs!

And so what my readers must understand is that, for these perverse elites, black magic is very real.¬† At the very least, it appears that they are engaged in illegal activities pursuant to these ritualistic leanings.¬† And thus, as stated, my take on Marina Abramovińá was both uninformed and na√Įve insofar as occult context goes.

Hillary Luthor.

vs. Superman.

I must make a further confession.  I may have done injustice to Edward Snowden to be so skeptical of his aims.  The same goes for my suspicion of Glenn Greenwald and Laura Poitras.

And I’ll tell you why.

The majority of real news we are getting in the USA is thanks to WikiLeaks.

Edward Snowden has certainly been lumped in with Julian Assange.

To my satisfaction, Julian Assange and WikiLeaks have proven themselves to be a credible (and priceless) asset for world freedom.

And so perhaps I was too harsh on Snowden.

One thing is certain:  we must remember that the eyes are the most easily-fooled of our senses.

So for me to proclaim, as an amateur film critic, that I know the score of Snowden’s veracity should not be taken as gospel truth.

Superman.

Is Edward Snowden the Superman in this whole thing?

Is Assange?

Actually, I would make the case that it is (rather) Donald Trump who is the true Superman on the world stage at the moment.

And it is indeed germane that he be facing off against Hillary Luthor.

And so we have a brilliant movie.

From director Richard Donner.

This is what superhero movies should be like.

Back when CGI didn’t suck (and the Clinton Global Initiative was yet to exist).

Superman brings hope.

To the deepest, darkest, most depressed and forgotten corners of America.

Not insignificant, Superman is a journalist by day.

The names here are blockbuster.

Marlon Brando as Superman’s biological father.

Perhaps James Comey is like Brando’s character Jor-El (who pronounces judgment against insurrectionists but then must acquiesce to the fate of death for he and his wife).

Which is to say, maybe James Comey of the US FBI is an honorable man.

Sure doesn’t seem like it.

But from surrender, a child is borne upon the seas of outer space.

Glenn Ford is excellent as Superman’s adoptive father.

Phyllis Thaxter is wonderful as Superman’s adoptive mother.

Jeff East is very good as the teenage Clark Kent.

Superman is all about the outcast getting his revenge on society…BY DOING GOOD!

Are you an outcast?

Yes.

Me too.

And we all know pain.

The pain of discrimination.  Not fitting in.  Being the odd man out.  The ugly duckling.

We can feel that the world (our little world) doesn’t want us.

And it is tremendously traumatic.

But Superman is a bit like Saint Jude the Apostle:  patron saint of lost causes.

Superman speaks to the most lowly among us.

Schizophrenics.  Shut-ins.  Impoverished.  Living in squalor.

Superman lets us dream.

We may have nothing but a VCR.  We have never gone on a date, much less had a girlfriend.

The world has forgotten about us.

But Superman gives us hope.

That someone or some thing is going to come along and lift us out of our misery.

The Trump connection is strong.

Doesn’t drink.¬† Doesn’t smoke.

Superman.

The World Trade Center (still standing) in the background (1978).

As Christopher Reeve zips through the New York City sky.

Mr. Reeve is astonishingly good as an actor in this film.

Enter Lois Lane.

Margot Kidder is so charming in this film ūüôā

Her skinny little frame never stops moving as she tries to get the latest scoop in her job as a reporter.

But what else does Superman represent?

He represents the good cops who dive into the abyss each night to patrol the unpredictability of our streets.

He represents the good FBI who “damn the torpedoes” and go after the bad guys (and gals) [whomever they turn out to be].

Superman fights crime.

He never lies.

Superman is a protector.

Like the brave Secret Service agents who did a wonderful job shielding Mr. Trump two days ago in Reno from what could have been imminent gunfire.

Supermen are willing human shields.

Defenders.

Like our military.

And Superman does not suffer the deviance of pencil pushers who would try and leverage their brilliance to harm people.

If I was a Hillary supporter, I would compare Trump to Lex Luthor (realtors both).

But sometimes history offers us a counterintuitive option.

Donald Trump, while a realtor, is not out to screw the American public.

He has enough money.

He’s not a sycophant like Hillary.

The famous red “Make America Great Again” (MAGA) hat does not feature Trump’s name on it.

It’s not about him.

It’s about America.

Hillary’s campaign always comes back to her…in a self-serving way.

The ubiquitous H signs and the trite “I’m with her” d√©tournement of a decades-old pop culture phrase.

Neither of Hillary’s taglines (including “Stronger Together”) ring true.

Mostly because SHE doesn’t ring true.¬† In anything.¬† At all.¬† Ever.

But Superman is for real teamwork.

Superman has humility.

But he also has immense confidence.  Pride, not arrogance.

And not least, Superman has a wry sense of humor.

With Luthor’s “staffer” Otis (Ned Beatty), there are a plethora of possible parallels to the iniquitous (and, frankly, incompetent) team of ass-kissers with whom Hillary has surrounded herself.

While John Podesta may very well be categorically evil, he’s no evil genius.

What kind of idiot forgoes the advice to encrypt?

But Hillary is really her own Otis.

Only Otis would be so dumb as to use a personal email server and (among other things) let her Filipino maid print out classified documents while Hillary was at Foggy Bottom.

Which makes Hillary the foggy bottom-feeder.  Always.  Forever.

Good attracts evil.

Good can change evil (and vice versa).

But be good…and you will reap the rewards of goodness.

Perhaps Valerie Perrine will rescue you from a swimming pool ūüôā

We must save our mothers in Hackensack.

If you’re on the side of evil, it’s time to switch teams.

Good is merciful.

Do not wait until it’s too late.

Hillary has poisoned her own well just like Lex Luthor.

She is coming down.

It’s not a question of if, but rather of when.

However, those who have the opportunity to expose her misdeeds and yet stay silent must bear upon their consciences their accessory roles as silent partners to the evil destruction of America.

There may not be another chance.

So many people are tied to Hillary’s ring of corruption.

If they retain power, they will use all means necessary to purge the country of dissenters.

Don’t believe the “stronger together” hogwash.

Time to deliver Luthor and Otis to prison.

Are you the Superman we seek?

 

-PD

 

 

Marina Abramovińá: The Artist is Present [2012)

As the world collapses, we have a few choices.

We always have these choices.

We seek truth.

And we endure.

We rebel.

And we find our communities.

As I write, America is in deep turmoil.

Boiling like a witch’s cauldron (some might say).

Perhaps I have written about it before…my ancestor…who was hung in Salem, Massachusetts for being a witch.

My relative, Susannah Martin.

Hung in 1692.

And if you are combing social media (like I am), you are likely to hear about Marina Abramovińá.

Let me start by saying that this is a beautiful woman.  A beautiful human being.

A genius.

But today’s context…a WikiLeaks email…a dinner invitation to Tony Podesta from Marina.

And specifically, the term “Spirit Cooking”.

I must preface by saying that there are other concurrent rumors abounding regarding Hillary Clinton.¬† The connection above is, incidentally, that Tony is the brother of John Podesta:¬† Hillary’s campaign chairman.

But back to these rumors.

I have not checked my phone in a couple of hours.

Anything could have happened.

Because it seems that SOMETHING (or 650,000 things) on Anthony Weiner’s laptop turned the stomachs of NYPD’s Special Victims Unit.

But again, there has (so far) been a mass media blackout regarding what is assumed.

It appears that there may be a massive pedophilia sting going on which directly relates to Hillary Clinton.  Furthermore, the evidence is pointing to possible child trafficking (in conjunction with said pedophilia).

We’re hearing lots of things here in America.

That there are incriminating photos of Bill and Hillary Clinton (and perhaps Huma Abedin as well) on the confiscated laptop belonging to Anthony Weiner.

Huma Abedin forwarded 650,000 emails to that computer.

From what I have read, this story could break at any moment.

As I said, I have not checked the news in a couple of hours.

But citizen patriots are all over these leads.

And so you can see how “Spirit Cooking” has been construed to be part of this vast conspiracy.

There is indeed a conspiracy.

But what role does Marina Abramovińá play in it?

I have no idea.

It would be sheer conjecture for me to venture a guess.

But a couple seconds of research reveals the bizarre video shot in 1997.

A recipe.¬† “Fresh breast milk.”¬† “Fresh sperm.”

This is what Abramovińá paints on a wall with a bloody-looking substance.

The recipe is to “mix” the aforementioned ingredients.

Correction, it reads “sperm milk.”

You can see why a casual observer might find this “recipe” concerning.

The next painting on the 1997 video is of the phrase “With a sharp knife cut deeply into the middle finger of your left hand.¬† Eat the pain.”

This phrase needs some explanation.

As evident from watching this 2012 documentary about Abramovińá, knives and cutting have been a significant element of her art.

She is an artist.

But indeed, she has likewise been drawn to the pentagram (both cutting it into her belly with a razor blade during one performance and lying in the middle of a giant flaming pentagram which surrounds her in another performance art piece).

She is a performance artist.

Think Joseph Beuys.

A third panel from the 1997 video reads “Fresh morning urine sprinkle over nightmare dreams.”

You can see how one might mistake such recipes for witchcraft.

But we must ask, might they possibly be?

Tony Podesta was ostensibly asking his brother John whether he wanted to come participate in some kind of ritualistic dinner.

Just how much was it faux-Satanism (or paganism) and how much was it real deal bizzaro shit?

This is where the child sex ring (if the rumors are true) potentially frames this “dinner” as perhaps more than just a Black Sabbath unplugged concert over a bottle of red wine.

The next panel of 1997:¬† “Spin around until you lose consciousness.¬† Try to eat all the questions of the day.”

Hell…that sounds like Hillary’s campaign!¬† Teetering off the curb on 9/11 (just as her campaign is listing)…and “eating questions”–trying to squelch doubts (and voices).

And here’s where art becomes hypocritical.

Again, to watch the 1997 video (as a non-artist) would be to see what is seemingly some kind of occult ritual.¬† The “paint” mixture appears to be real blood (animal?) in addition to possibly entrails and feces.

It is extreme art.

The video (1997) is in Italian (shot in Italy) except when Abramovińá breaks into English.

But she seems to utter the word alchimia (alchemy).

Again, the artist (no surprise) has a fascination with the occult (at the very least).

Back to that first panel about the breast milk and sperm…

It continues with “Drink on earthquake nights.”

And over a doorway (?) there is more “blood” with the words “Spirit Cooking.”

So we must ask, is this what the Podesta brothers were up to?

Incidentally, the email referred to earlier was actually an invitation for John Podesta’s wife Mary to come to the “Spirit Cooking” dinner.

Or!¬† It was to John (the recipient) with a lazy add-on question ending reading “Mary?”.

So then it looks like perhaps John and Mary were invited to spend an evening with brother Tony and Ms. Abramovińá.

As some on Twitter have noticed (apparently), the 1997 video ends with (literally) a dark crystal…a “mineral pillow” which is supposed to transmit energy to the person whose head is placed against it.

The video (1997) appears to have been shot at Studio Stefania Miscetti in Rome.

Other artists who have done “installations” there include Yoko Ono and (similar to Abramovińá’s style in this piece) Hermann Nitsch.

Art is not a crime.

Unless it’s real blood from say, for instance, a murdered child.

There’s no evidence of that in Abramovińá’s 1997 installation, but it is EXTREMELY DISTURBING to contemplate the possibility that the Clintons were running a child trafficking ring for pedophiles.

Again, as I’ve said, those details are just rumors at this point.

But a significant amount of circumstantial evidence (Jeffrey Epstein and the Lolita Express) gives credence to the possibility that the Clintons (both of whom flew on sex offender Epstein’s jet many times [Lolita Express]) were indeed up to something unspeakably sinister.

There’s also the Hillary connection to Laura Silsby (who was convicted of child trafficking in Haiti).¬† The charges against Silsby and others were “abduction and criminal conspiracy” (carrying a possible 15-year sentence in Haiti).¬† This is also courtesy of WikiLeaks.

Laura Silsby may be an excellent woman who was caught up in a misunderstanding.

Marina Abramovińá is an amazing artist.¬† I hope to God she is not in some kind of criminal circle with the Clintons.

But the NYPD sure seems interested in Weiner’s laptop.¬† The stories I have been reading point to something HUGE involving the Clintons.

But I must say…the film Marina Abramovińá:¬† The Artist is Present is a masterpiece.

This lady is a true artist.

A Serbian.  A beautiful feminist.

The film recounts Abramovińá’s three-month test of endurance at MoMA in New York City.

Abramovińá may very well be an innocent bystander in an otherwise slimy criminal investigation.

I see no evil in the heart of Marina Abramovińá.

I see immense wickedness in the heart of Hillary Clinton.

I think it is quite possible that Abramovińá’s occult fascination is merely part of her exploration as an artist.¬† No one gets hurt in her art.¬† She only hurts herself.¬† Like Iggy Pop.

The scary thing would be to imagine the possibility that a criminal network like the Clintons had taken artful concepts of simulation and affected them as reality.

Those who sat across from Abramovińá at The Artist is Present included James Franco (shown), Lou Reed (not shown), and Bj√∂rk (also not shown).

Apparently Lady Gaga showed up.¬† [I couldn’t care less.]

One final point…

The sense of temporality which Abramovińá affected with this piece bears a striking resemblance to the prolonged gaze of which Ingmar Bergman’s camera was so fond.

Great minds think alike ūüôā

So there you go, world.

An assessment of the lovely Marina Abramovińá from an ardent Trump supporter.

Try to process that one!

 

-PD

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9/11: Ten Years of Deception, Part 1 [2015)

I must praise the brave soul or souls at Hulu who made this documentary available through their video streaming service.

If there is a global conspiracy of greed at the most elite level of society, then those conspirators have yet to impress upon Hulu the lesson of what is arguably Juvenal’s most famous bit of thought.

America is becoming less and less restrained.

Continet.  Contains.  Contents itself with.  Restrains itself.

Who?  Se.  They.

Those who have shed their cares.  Effudit curas.  Shed cares.

Who?  Qui.  Those who.

Who what?

Dabat olim.  Once gave.

Once gave what?  A shit.

Idem populus.  The same people.

Ah!  People.  The people.

It is from Satura X.  The 10th Satire of Juvenal.  You might see it as Satvra.

Full.  Satur.

Lanx satura.  Full scale.

A full scale.  Full-scale.

It was the Toronto Hearings.  The International Hearings on the Events of September 11, 2001.

You’ll get a lot of stuff.

For instance, David Ray Griffin.

I have long appreciated his scholarship in the field of 9/11 research.

His books are part of my library.

You’ll also get the excellent Kevin Ryan (who lost his job at Underwriters Laboratories for questioning the fraudulent “science” of NIST [National Institute of Standards and Technology]).¬† UL worked with NIST on their reports regarding the cause of collapse of the World Trade Center buildings (all three of them).¬† Ryan seems to have found any involvement in this unconscionable and thus spoke up.¬† Just like Dr. James Tracy (for his Sandy Hook research), Ryan’s job employment with UL was terminated.

You’ll meet hearing panelist Ferdinando Imposimato (honorary President of the Supreme Court of Italy).

Imposimato was one of those who got to the bottom of Operation Gladio.

And so staged bombings have been with us awhile.

Mr. Imposimato uncovered the secrets of the “years of lead” in Italy.

The “strategy of tension”.

He uncovered that it was NATO intelligence (with a leading role played by the CIA).

Anything to keep the communists from coming to power.

So much so that the weapons caches of “stay behind networks” were put into service.¬† Italy bombed and terrorized its own people.¬† And blamed it on the Red Brigades.

To sway popular sentiment.

“Don’t vote for the communists!”

What a murderous, cynical solution to a phantom problem.

People cynically sacrificed to prevent some greater perceived threat.

And that’s exactly what 9/11 was.

That was the mechanism.

You will meet Richard Gage.  Founder of Architects & Engineers for 9/11 Truth.

No quack.

A very articulate, serious person.

Same goes for Kevin Ryan.

Check their science.

Follow their logic.

Observe the duplicity of NIST and their politically-motivated fudging of numbers.

It is astounding!

You’ll meet Peter Dale Scott.

What an astute personality!  Former English teacher at UC-Berkeley.

Famous for research on “the deep state”.

You may not want to believe it, but sticking your head in the sand won’t make it go away.

You’ll meet Graeme MacQueen.¬† A Harvard Ph.D.

Serious voices.

Matthew Witt.  Professor at the University of La Verne.

People putting their reputations on the line.

Smart, studied people who have sensed (and proven to their own satisfaction through the scientific method) that 9/11 was something far different from that which was presented.

How does news become history?

Once something is reported as news, is it then history?

There are very serious questions surrounding 9/11.

I cannot name all of the figures in this documentary, but ponder these:

-Cynthia McKinney (one of the only trustworthy politicians to have emerged in recent memory)

-Lance deHaven-Smith (a Florida State professor whose contribution to this documentary is priceless)

-Jonathan Cole (whose questions get at the heart of the mythical 9/11 “state crime against democracy” [a term coined by deHaven-Smith])

-David Chandler (whose beard is as impressive as his mathematics qualifications)

I highly recommend this documentary to all who value what remains of liberty.  As the filmmakers make clear, many scourges of humanity can be traced back to the false narrative which followed quickly on the heels of the 9/11 events.

Judge for yourself whether the evidence presented supports the hypotheses of these researchers.  As is no doubt evident, I concur with most of their conclusions regarding this sad event.

 

-PD

We Need to Talk About Sandy Hook [2014)

From a group called Independent Media Solidarity comes this excellent exposé concerning what was almost certainly a false flag:  the Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting of 2012.

I had researched the topic rather extensively for the simple reason that it happened on my birthday.  There I was headed over the frozen highways of Utah and Colorado and this pall hung over what should have been a more-or-less festive time for me.

The event pulled me in.  It seemed incredible.  And as I followed all of the false leads which came out about the case (espoused by all of the major American media outlets), I began to see that something was terribly amiss.

But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.

Back to the film at hand.

What we are talking about here is essentially a YouTube phenomenon.

The Independent Media Solidarity group have produced quite a professional piece of work.

The documentary’s setting is Newtown, Connecticut.

Ah, Newtown…

It’s sort of like Scrabble.¬† James Brunot.

And it’s definitely like the phantasmic “Woodchipper Murder” (the basis for the Coen Brothers’ Fargo).

Charles Ives might have called it the Housatonic at Stockbridge.

Robert Underwood Johnson.

Sandy Hook is a community within Newtown.

Newtown counts among its progeny the “Father of Robotics” Joseph Engelberger.

So too Renata Adler (who famously ripped Pauline Kael).

Perhaps most notably (as Dr. Steve Pieczenik has pointed out), the town counts among its residents Suzanne Collins (author of The Hunger Games trilogy).

Collins even lives in the Sandy Hook portion of Newtown (where our massacre ostensibly occurred).

Yet Collins has given no statement.

If this had been a real event (the “school shooting”), then Collins would have been among the first likely to be interviewed.¬† This seems to be the point Pieczenik made some weeks back on the esteemed Dr. James Tracy’s radio show Real Politik.

But we push on through the parade:

-Charles Goodyear (rubber vulcanization)

-Caitlyn Jenner (actually, quite an interesting angle given the media blitz surrounding her and Sandy Hook)

-Elia Kazan (the genius sell-out…and most germane to my subject)

-Mead Treadwell (very interesting angle, but he’s a Republican).

What we mostly find is a lot of power.

Newtown.

About 27,000 residents.

U.S. Congressmen.  Connecticut governors.  Dept. of Justice.  U.S. Treasury.

A well-heeled community.  A bedroom community for New York City.

Then there’s Sherman…three-time mayor of Chicago.

And, perhaps most of all, an inordinate number of children’s authors.

But the pithy name we need to understand the film under consideration is that of graffiti artist Emit.

Yes, we have to take a different logic to understand this new brand of filmmaking.

These are filmmakers who dig deep.

They seek to understand Robert Crafts and how he could put his wife Helle Crafts through a woodchipper at Lake Zoar.

Maybe hoaxing goes all the way back to Luther Meade Blackman in the town of Sandy Hook.  Blackman was accused of forging the Bat Creek inscription (an engraving on a dubious Native American artifact unearthed by the Smithsonian [actually, Bureau of American Ethnology] in Tennessee in 1889).

Our auteurs first focus on the Fairfield Hills State Hospital in Newtown.  It was the setting for the Hollywood film Sleepers in 1996 (a mere one year after the facility [of 1930s vintage] was closed).

Our auteurs further flesh out the tale of Fairfield Hills by relating the story of MTV’s Fear television show (which filmed at the abandoned mental hospital in the tunnels beneath the facility).

The point is that, for all of Fairfield Hills’ psychiatric crypticism, Sandy Hook suddenly replaced the sanatorium as the town’s defining mystery.

It is at this point which we meet the protagonist (who may or may not have actually existed):  Adam Lanza.

Dr. Steve Pieczenik asserts (elsewhere) that Lanza indeed did not exist.

Nevertheless, we are presented with the mainstream cover story (a bit like Lee Harvey Oswald’s or that of the 19 hijackers).

Adam Lanza.  Autistic.

Vs. equally dubious characters like Natalie Hammond (celebrated at a Boston Bruins’ game).

Nancy Lanza.  Dead in bed.

I will admit that the footage of Robbie Parker really started to make me suspicious.

Our auteurs point out that all of the parents (who got copious primetime news coverage) display characteristics at odds with truly grieving parents.

In other words, none of them are very good (crisis) actors.

That is the realization we are faced with:  these are crisis actors.

Valley girl reactions.

The laughing coroner.

All of these personages seem nervous.  Not comfortable in their own skin.

Is it perhaps because they are playing the roles of their lives?

They would, therefore, be breaking the law to a significant extent by helping to foist this false narrative on the American public.

Is this real world or exercise?

Ah, now we are getting somewhere.

Because once you get to the bottom of one of these false events, you are able to chop through the BS of other similar events with a metaphorical machete.

Why should you watch this film?

Because one of the parents (Lenny Pozner) has apparently been harassing Independent Media Solidarity [going so far as to hack or have hacked their Google Drive].¬† Oops…

Public Service Announcement from IMS: Unauthorized Access

Dr. James Tracy lost his tenured position at Florida Atlantic University for standing up to the media barrage of senselessness which narrowly-framed the Sandy Hook debate.¬† Tracy has made it very clear that Pozner and his HONR Network (think Jewish Defense League…terrorizing the targets of their opprobrium) are a stalking Internet gang inconsistent with grieving parents.¬† The dialogue between HONR Network group members (which has been exposed at Tracy’s Memory Hole Blog, the ostensible reason for his termination from FAU) can be characterized as being more like a band of hired thugs than true vigilantes.¬† In other words, their essence is the real terror of a fake terror event.¬† They are the clean-up crew.

Lenny Pozner’s HONR Network: The Fine Art of Online Stalking and Harassment

The mastermind of Independent Media Solidarity appears to be a YouTube user named “mrstosh314”.¬† “MrStosh” pops up again as one of three credited producers of the follow-up to We Need to Talk About Sandy Hook (that being The Life of Adam [another great documentary¬†which I hope to review soon enough]).

Other excellent contributors to We Need to Talk About Sandy Hook include:

-Sherrie QuestioningAll

-Swan Song (editor of insanemedia.net) [whose voice sounds a lot like that of David Knight from infowars.com]

-TyrannyNewsNetwork

-Odinrok

-FreeRadioRevolution

-Sandy Hook Research

-Professor Doom1

-QKUltra

-UpNorthOfThe49th

[keep in mind that these are all YouTube “handles”]

To clarify, the end credits list MrStosh314 as writer and director of this film (which is slightly at odds with the ad hoc structure presented).¬† Regardless, his efforts are much appreciated.¬† I wasn’t sure (until I checked further) whether he was the same person as Peter Klein (another of the listed producers for The Life of Adam). ¬†[It seems he is not.] ¬†As even Lenny Pozner acknowledged in a pilfered series of messages,¬†Klein “has skills”. ¬†Of course, Pozner doesn’t entirely break character.¬† Talented but “evil”.

That’s the pot kettle black.

 

-PD

SNL Season 1 Episode 12 [1976)

Wikipedia generally gives a nice overview of some of these early Saturday Night Live episodes, but not in this case.

Even so, that’s alright.

We’ll make do.

It might be enough to focus on the divide between droll host Dick Cavett (his pitch for “his” Nebraska Pimp book as part of “Looks on Books” kinda sums it up) and impassioned musical guest Jimmy Cliff.

Cavett is that sort of personality that everyone likes.  Always a warm smile.  A wry smile, perhaps.  A smart guy, but not too smart.  Cavett was, in some ways, in the exact middle of the cultural road.

He was just hip enough to be marginally “with it” in a revolutionary era (witness the Weekend Update attempts to cover “war-torn” Luanda, Angola) steaming with frustration.

And so the natural way to play off his image is to have him do risqu√© things.¬† For example, the skit “Our Town” substitutes New York City for the Grover’s Corners of playwright Thornton Wilder.

Cavett describes the more prurient details of NYC.  At one point, it is fairly obvious that he is describing the old Times Square full of sex shops and massage parlors.  As always, the exercise of watching this show gives us an opportunity to reflect on days gone by.  For example, this must have been around the time of a sanitation workers strike in the Big Apple.

[Speaking of Big Apple, the home movie sent in by someone (whose name I have forgotten) makes nice use of apples (and plums) as actors in a stop-motion Super-8 experiment.]

But yes…Dick Cavett is kind of like a bathroom sanitizer.¬† You’re glad he’s there (when the place is sullied), but he is generally harmless and flavorless.

What is staggering about this episode is that I remember a friend from college who (on second thought) reminds me quite a bit of Cavett.  The craziest part is that Jimmy Cliff does a song in this episode which played a part in my college days (funny enough, in relation to the aforementioned gentleman).

It’s funny how the mundane can make us sentimental.¬† However, Jimmy Cliff is not at all himself mundane on the song in question:¬† “Many Rivers to Cross”.

Jimmy Cliff couldn’t be more different in persona from Dick Cavett.¬† Cliff delivers the first great, desperate performance in SNL history.¬† Sure, Simon & Garfunkel were great in the early season, but they were pretty…composed…easily poised.

On “Many Rivers to Cross” Jimmy Cliff sings like his life depends on it.¬† The guitars are out of tune.¬† The drummer is barely in control of the song.¬† A bongo player (who alternates on timbales…with brushes) adds a bit of flavor.¬† The SNL horns (Howard Shore’s band) add some nice stabs and swells of excitement.

But it is Jimmy Cliff.  Singing right in tune.  Dead serious.  Pinging each note in absolute perfection.

Closing his eyes.¬† Lifting his head back.¬† Singing so the veins bulge out in his neck.¬† …ending the performance out of breath.

Cliff absolutely deserved to perform the three songs he did on this episode.¬† However, neither of the other two match the intensity of “Many Rivers to Cross”.

And so it takes me back.

These memories I mentioned.¬† They’re important to me.

If I’d only chosen to have my taxes done by H. & L. Brock…I coulda been a contenda.

How do we become losers?

Is it from the very first hand we’re dealt?

Some things feel like a lost cause.

Life is unkind.  Sometimes.

But what I want to know is…will it pay off?

Jimmy Cliff was ready when the opportunity arose.

How significant was this performance for the acceptance of reggae in America?

It doesn’t matter.

Those questions don’t matter.

What matters is what each one of us feels…in little moments of reflection.

I’d like to think that I’d belt it out just like Jimmy Cliff.

That’s when you give it all you have.

It’s when your passion raises you head and shoulders above the rest.

It’s a passion.¬† A hunger.¬† Of going from nothing to something.

I think quite a few of us feel like nothings.

It’s all we ever get to be.

We’re behind.

I can only speak for myself.

No wife.  No kids.

In school for the millionth time.

And my dreams seem light years away…in the rearview mirror.

Will I find them again down the road?

Is this a loop?  A mere episode?

 

-PD

 

SNL Season 1 Episode 11 [1976)

Just as Buck Henry had me stumped in the last episode (Buck Who?), Peter Cook threw me for a loop right off the bat here.

Dudley Moore I knew, but Cook?  No idea.  In terms of firsts, this appears to be the first SNL hosted by more than one person (simultaneously).

Cook met Moore while at Cambridge University as a student (Cook) of Radley and (later) Pembroke Colleges.¬† Moore, on the other hand, was himself a student at Magdalene College (pronounced “maudlin”) of Oxford University.¬† They started performing together in these school days.

But the act which Cook and Moore were essentially reviving on this night in 1976 was their comedy duo which powered the BBC’s Not Only…But Also (1965-1970).¬† We can be fairly confident of this based on their throwback chestnut Sir Arthur Streeb-Greebling.

Sir Streeb-Greebling’s featured skit (Table Talk) is one of the highlights of this episode.¬† In it, we learn of the knighted eccentric’s restaurant Frog & Peach (which serves, unsurprisingly, frog…and peaches [exclusively]).¬† If I remember correctly, the two dishes on the menu are frog √† la p√™che and, conversely, p√™che √† la frog.¬† This bit of absurd, excellent humor is indicative of the talents which Cook and Moore possessed as both writers and comedians.

Cook and Moore additionally did film work together such as Bedazzled (1967).¬† For all of you Yo La Tengo fans out there, this gives me an opportunity to wax informative on the song “Tom Courtenay”.¬† It is one of my favorite YLT songs (from the excellent Electr-O-Pura album). ¬†Perusing the lyric sheet of the above song, not only is English actor Courtenay mentioned in the title (the narrative is likely from his perspective) but Julie Christie makes an appearance (her name being the first words sung by Ira Kaplan).¬† For our purposes, however, it is simply enough to point out that the real “star” of said lyrics (Eleanor Bron) played Margaret Spencer in Bedazzled.

Moving on…

Now that I have spent an inordinate amount of time on Cook and Moore, I should point out something important.  Saturday Night Live in its inaugural season was attracting what might be called B-list entertainers.  To illustrate this point, I would direct readers to my piece on the previous episode.  To have Bill Withers do but one song and have it be a tune from 1971 (on a 1976 broadcast) illustrates this point which has a parallel in Cook and Moore (who were ostensibly rehashing material from their show which ran 1965-1970).

But credit must be given to the comedic duo in question who persevered and relocated to New York City in 1973.¬† They did, in fact, win a Tony and Grammy for their production Good Evening.¬† This success was parlayed (partially) into a more risqu√© act where they assumed the personalities Derek and Clive.¬† In total, this new incarnation was featured on three LPs (that would be, for the young’uns,¬†VI-NYL/RE-CORDS).

Ok, so Cook and Moore weren’t totally washed up.¬† That much is obvious when seeing this episode.¬† In fact, I find their humor much more effective than most of the hacks which preceded them as hosts.¬† The “One Legged Tarzan” skit near the top of the show exemplifies their shrewd method of laugh-getting.

It should also be¬†mentioned that stars on one side of the pond aren’t¬†necessarily stars on the other.¬† And so, dear readers, you must forgive my ignorance regarding Cook.¬† I have now done my research.

I should mention a further two bits.  Cook himself went on to work with some of my favorite musical acts (Sparks and 10cc).  That Ron Mael, Kevin Godley, and Lol Creme saw something in this chap is good enough for me.

Again, the separation between British and American entertainment really can’t be overemphasized.¬† I know there is a Doctor Who craze in the States now, but (back to Peter Cook) this bloke had a bleeding planet named after him in 1999 [20468 Petercook].

Furthermore, I am ashamed to say that I needed Wikipedia to tell me that Mr. Cook gave the world “mayorwidge” as the clergyman in The Princess Bride (1987).

Ok, ok…enough about Cook.¬† [I’ve hardly said a word about Moore, but we must press on.]

This is generally a great episode (with the notable exception of Neil Sedaka).¬† I really don’t want to hate on this guy, but his repertoire…ugh. And his sartorial choices (burgundy velvet jacket).¬† The jacket would have been great if he didn’t have Meathead’s haircut (Rob Reiner…Archie Bunker).¬† [“And now I would like to impersonate the Archie Bunker.¬† (…)¬† Tank you veddy much.”]

To be fair, Sedaka had talent.¬† Singing voice?¬† Check.¬† Piano chops?¬† Check.¬† But the schmaltz gluing it all together is what made it unpalatable.¬† Not to mention, what was an MOR guy like this doing on such a counterculture show as SNL?¬† Look to the corner office, my friend…the corner office.

On the whole, a great episode.¬† Just bite the bullet when Neil starts crooning ūüôā

 

-PD

 

 

SNL Season 1 Episode 10 [1976)

“…I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know…”

Ah, Bill Withers.¬† A lyrical genius.¬† And though I kid, I mean it.¬† This section of “Ain’t No Sunshine” is one of the most tense portions of pop music ever laid down on tape.¬† In case you’re wondering, there’s 26 “I know”s.

And indeed, the powerful Mr. Withers performed this very song on SNL backed up by Howard Shore’s band to amazing dramatic effect.

Now, if you have been following along with my clinically-insane review of the entire Saturday Night Live oeuvre (or canon, if you will) you will know that the musical guests thus far had been:

Billy Preston, Janis Ian, Simon & Garfunkel, Randy Newman, Phoebe Snow, Esther Philips , ABBA, Loudon Wainwright III, Gil Scott-Heron, and Anne Murray.¬† [Hopefully I didn’t leave anyone out.]

I mention them again because almost all of them (with the notable exception of Simon & Garfunkel) were pushing product.¬† To use the terminology which Kurt Cobain so presciently keyed in on, they were attempting to be “radio friendly unit shifters”.¬† Shift those units.¬† Move that product.

This is significant when viewing Bill Withers’ performance.¬† “Ain’t No Sunshine” was from his 1971 album Just As I Am (that’s five years before this broadcast).¬† He’d had at least four albums come out since 1971.¬† He would have a fifth released in 1976.¬† And though he only got to perform one song, he went back to his big hit.

It makes me wonder whose idea that was.¬† Lorne Michaels?¬† Perhaps even a wily A&R man trying a counterintuitive tactic.¬† Kinda like, “Hey…I’m Bill Withers.¬† Remember me?”

All…that…having…been…said:

this is a fantastic episode!!!

I must admit I had no idea who Buck Henry was upon viewing this.

Pierre Henry?  Of course.  But Buck Henry?  No way.

Sure, I’d seen The Graduate, but paying attention to who the screenwriter was had to be the last thing on my mind as the credits rolled.

I like films without scripts.  Godard.

The only script I can honestly say I’ve ever read out of admiration for the film (and writing) is Ernest Lehman’s fantastic North by Northwest (brought to the screen, of course, by Alfred Hitchcock).

To make a short story long, Buck Henry is an amazing actor.

I don’t know to what extent he was involved in the writing of skits for this episode, but I can confidently say that this show surpasses all the others before it.

What is more, Buck Henry is ten times the actor that is Elliott Gould (the previous week’s host).

So, there.¬† Buck Henry is great.¬† From his role in John Belushi’s Samurai Delicatessen to his part as Gerald Ford’s aide in the Oval Office.

Speaking of these two skits, they are certainly among the highlights (if not the outright best two).

Belushi was improving with every episode.  From Samurai Hotel came Samurai Delicatessen.  It is an artful role on par with the talent of Peter Sellers.

The extra portion Belushi brought to the table was his singing (yes, singing).¬† We heard him earlier in the debut season doing a send-up of Joe Cocker.¬† In the episode under consideration, Belushi and Dan Aykroyd debut a proto version of The Blues Brothers…in bee costumes!

I must say that their performance of “I’m a King Bee” is infused with the punk spirit which was then coursing through the veins of New York City.¬† Belushi takes his breaks from singing as opportunities to do ridiculous, stumbling cartwheels around the stage.

This is one thing for which you have to give the Not Ready for Prime Time Players credit:  they would do anything for a laugh.

The precedent had been set early on by Chevy Chase.  No one could fall quite like Chevy, and thus it was natural for him to portray the unlucky Gerald Ford.

One of Chevy’s real miracles was a failed attempt (as Ford) to put the star on a 15-foot Christmas tree.¬† I don’t know if Chase had stunt training, but his falls are impressively wild.

But again, in this episode we see Chase developing his comic timing and humorous subtleties which he would later parlay into a successful movie career.¬† Chase’s portrayal of Ford is particularly smooth (peppered, of course, with appropriately clunky dementia).

Two more bits bear mentioning.¬† Michael O’Donoghue’s anti-impression illustrates all that was good about the early days of SNL.¬† It’s flailing about, but it is such a refreshing flailing.

And finally, I must mention that Toni Basil returned to the show (after making an appearance earlier in the season with the dance troupe The Lockers).¬† This time Basil does some great scat singing (and, of course, dancing) on the old tune “Wham”…(re bop boom bam).

It’s an impressive performance with a touch of Cyd Charisse in the choreography.

Bravo SNL!

 

-PD