So, Claire McCaskill announced her support for marriage equality this weekend. Brave move from a Senator in a red state? Craven bandwagon-jumping?
McCaskill can be exasperatingly Blue Doggy, but I think she deserves credit for openly supporting marriage equality, even if she’s hardly the first Dem out of the gate. Consider that she would have almost surely lost in 2012 to dead-eyed loon Todd Akin if he hadn’t been stricken with that peculiar strain of Rape Commentary Tourette’s that plagued last year’s crop of GOP candidates.
Even if the announcement is less than a profile in courage, it’s still a victory. Good for McCaskill.
As we lurch inevitably toward the convention season, I’m sure that like me, you can hardly contain your excitement as the perpwalkers form an orderly queue in the aisles for the 2012 Elephants’ Graveyard Porn and Bathroom Stall Tapdancing Convention, the star-studded line-up of poledancers speakers so far featuring Rick Santorum, Jeb Bush, Mary Fallin, Nikki Haley, John Kasich, Rick Scott, Condoleezza Rice, Susana Martinez, Mike Huckabee, John McCain, and Rand Paul.
Let’s just pause a moment to fan ourselves and catch our breath. Ready? OK. Onward.
As pundits try to scan the runes for any signs of who may win the coveted slot of straightman and ultimate fallguy to hypothetically replace President Mitt if he meets an untimely demise or gets impeached and locked up in chains when his sordid past catches up with him, speculation has focused on current omissions from the list as an indicator of who may receive the kiss of death. Some have noted a large number of recent revisions of razzle-dazzle Rob Portman’s Wikipedia page as an augury, but this could be a false trail.
So far, Sarah Palin is very conspicuously absent from the menu, so make of that what you will. No worries. On the basis that none of her dozens of viewers would notice the difference, Greta Van Susteren got her staff to trick Birther King and international bankrupt Donald “Duckface” Trump out in Palinic hair extensions and a push-up bra for his dialed-in appearance on her show and grilled him mercilessly about his role at the convention:
GRETA VAN SUSTEREN, FOX NEWS HOST: Right now, Donald Trump. He wants to know if President Obama’s hiding something. What is it this time? Plus, Donald Trump is planning to do something very, very major at the Republican national convention.
VAN SUSTEREN: So Donald, the Republican convention’s coming up. Are you going? That’s the first question. Secondly, if you are, do you intend to be speaking to the audience
TRUMP: Well, they want me to go. And I’m going to be in Sarasota the night before, where I’m being honored by the Republican Party in Florida as the statesman of the year. And that will be very interesting and I look forward to that. And I probably will be going, but they do want me to go, yes.
VAN SUSTEREN: How about speak? Have you been asked to speak?
TRUMP: I’d rather not say that yet, but they do want me to do something very major at the convention.
VAN SUSTEREN: All right, well, something very major. Now you’ve have certainly teased us. What’s the very major? Can you give us a hint?
TRUMP: I can’t. I’m not allowed to say, but it’s something very, very major.
In case you missed that, Donald Trump is planning to DO SOMETHING VERY, VERY MAJOR AT THE REPUBLICAN CONVENTION. Given that he once offered to flash Gloria Allred and insisted that she “would be ‘very, very impressed’ with his genitals,” that’s probably one to set the DVR for. I also believe under your new super-duper socialist ACA, you can now get group rates on PTSD counseling.
To stave off the suspense for those who can’t wait to witness this historic spectacle, here’s another little feature on Mr. Trump’s dick. Bill Moyers interviews Anthony Baxter, director of the documentary You’ve Been Trumped, about The Donald’s maltreatment of assorted peasants and abuse of the democratic process while constructing Scotland’s gazillionth golf course (which we’ve covered before, here and here).
Thanks, kid, but you must be thinking of someone else, I wasn’t on “Cheers.”
Well, Parker’s home and recuperating from surgery, and I still can’t use my dominant hand for more than a few minutes at a time (to answer the obvious question, no, I did not have my Rollerblading accident prior to drawing that Geraldo Rivera cartoon, and to answer the other obvious question, no, Parker wasn’t with me when I ate it; our injuries are unrelated, not that I’m entirely guilt-free as regards his tripedalism). But the internet craves content, and this hilarious story (note: the Onion AV Club is not a satirical site) gives me a thin excuse to repost something I wrote a few years ago, back when I didn’t have a platform and toiled away in obscurity. Bush was president then, though, so don’t get all nostalgic for the good ol’ days.
Mel Gibson: Chemical Interactions
Alcohol: Belligerent anti-Semitism
Absinthe: Belligerent anti-Sem… whoa. Get. The fuck. Out.
Lithium: An even keel but a sneaking suspicion that he’s just not Mel without the anti-Semitism
LSD: Incense and anti-Semitismints the color of time
Peyote: His vision-quest spirit guide isn’t a Jew, is it? Dingos can’t be Jewish, right?
Isoflourine: Comforting sense that the Jewish problem will work itself out somehow
Odor particles, own feces: Preening self-satisfaction, conflation of identity with that of heroes portrayed, plus he just likes the smell
Exhaust fumes: A perfectly serviceable Aussie B-movie (add mohawk dander to increase awesomeness quotient tenfold)
Tina Turner, whose charisma should be regulated as a controlled substance: Trapeze fights? The fuck?
Mennen Aftershave: GrrraaaAAARRGH! (pounds sink with fist, hyperventilates through clenched teeth, stares wildly at self in mirror)
Zyklon B: Belated acceptance of its existence/lethality
Yeah, I know the Farrellys are behind this. But other than Lenny or Chaplin, when was the last time you didn’t wince at watching a contemporary actor try to recreate classic shtick that’s already perfected in memory? (Man on the Moon, anyone?)
And just in case you were holding out hope that this would be a respectably earnest biopic dramatizing the off-screen lives of the Howard boys and Larry Fine, the IMDB plot synopsis suggests you’re going to be deeply disappointed:
While trying to save their childhood orphanage, Moe, Larry, and Curly inadvertently stumble into a murder plot and wind up starring in a reality TV show.
Sounds like The Blues Brothers meets Hollywoodland in a handbasket to Hell’s Kitchen.
Has anyone seen heavy-rotation promo spots on cable? What about shelf-headers or free-standing kiosks at Walmart? Billboards? Happy Meals?
So far, all I can find is this. And once you strip away all the obligatory PR fluff, it sounds like Sarah’s movie is getting the same treatment as Beastmaster 12 and Star Trek: The Musical:
After methodically analyzing the most effective ways to bring this galvanizing film to the widest audience as soon as possible we have determined that Video-on-Demand, Pay-Per-View and DVD sales will be the best modalities by which to deliver this film as widely and as quickly as possible.
Yeah, well, since it sucked air in theaters, I guess that’s all you got left, ain’t it? Duh.
A quirk of tax law means that Scotland’s currently a good place for overseas film companies to make movies. A quirk of history means that some of Glasgow’s older architecture and grid street layout bears a striking resemblance to Philadelphia’s. A quirk of genetics, climate, and social engineering means that zombie extras apparently aren’t difficult to find.
All this made Glasgow city centre’s George Square and surrounding streets a shoo-in for the shoot of some key scenes from the upcoming movie of Max Brooks’s 2006 novel World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, starring Brad Pitt.
There’s a slideshow of the shoot here, and the Daily What has a fun little quiz to see if you can tell the streets and buildings of Philadelphia from those of Glasgow when they haven’t been all gussied up for $ (I got 80%).
I haven’t ventured into the city during the shoot—the location’s cordoned off to the hoi polloi, and by the look of that pic above, not without good reason. I’ve also not read the book, but if they film the climax on a Saturday night after a Celtic—Rangers soccer match, my money’s on the zombies.
The Undefeated leaps from 10 theaters to 14 in its inexorable juggernaut course to becoming the most incrementally rolled-out summer blockbuster feel-good sleeper art-house niche-market celluloid experience since My Dinner with Batman and Aguirre, The Wrath of Khan.
Several of the opening day markets got the ax for lousy per-screen numbers that were harshing the average. Dallas, Houston, Denver and Orange stay. Phoenix and Atlanta get overflow screens. Second weekend adds Tucson, AZ; West Palm, FL; Milwaukee, WI; Charlotte, NC; and Ontario, CA. By all accounts, only America’s appalling lack of unused movie screens is holding back the latent breakout potential of this powerhouse film THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING, YOU SNIVELLING LIBTARDS!
Question: What’s the Venn Diagram analysis of Sarah Fans and Atlas Fans? Total overlap, or does she have a broader base? And, if so, will her film have a more devastating impact on Christmas than Santa Claus Conquers the Martians?
[UPDATE:] Looks like The Undefeated will pull better than Atlas Shrugged for the full weekend, so I think we’re officially talking a Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla take in terms of total North American sales, rather than SCCTM. Cultural-impact-wise, I think we’re still well south of Death Race 2000, which is right where we want it to be.
She’s unconventional. She does things her own way. She doesn’t ask directions. She’s never read the Owner’s Manual. And, dammit, she’s so gosh-darn badass that if she blows a tire on the tour bus, she’ll wrap Chuck Norris around the rim and drive on him till he screams “Akirameru!” and explodes in a shower of Chuck-Norris-shaped hunks of rubber and nylon.
Today, her stealth campaign for President begins in earnest — for the umpteenth time — with the ten-city opening of The Undefeated, an independent film that promises to be the Atlas Shrugged: Part I of independent films about boring stuff other than railroads and greed, but with just as many interminable talky parts.
Those attending the premiere of 1/2 Gov. Snowflake’s cinematic hagiography at the Corn Syrup Dispensary in Pella tonight could be forgiven for “spending a penny” or two, if not from desperation as the film reached the ninety minute mark with no sign of wrapping up, then from anticipation of The Malign Sarah’s after-film remarks: where better for her to make The Announcement!
Well folks, THAT was your clue. She is definitely running for the Presidency. You don’t tell your grassroots people to go pound shoeleather, thank them for helping Bannon put on a nice production and organize for the Iowa Caucuses, then turn around and say, “.....NAAAAAAAH, I’M HAVING MY PERIOD”.