Best Laid Plans
Dantley was having that dream again. The one where Jesus girl had him handcuffed to the bed while running through an inventory of dirty ideas in that affected ski bunny barista lisp that sounded like foreplay to his ears. She slinked her way up to him, brandishing the snub nosed revolver he’d purchased from his rainy day fund and it brought a smile to his face.
He awoke to find the dream in a head on collision with reality with Monica straddling him, that very same Ruger pointing at his face. She was Karen to his Henry Hill, the lost soul to his Angel of Death. She was the beginning of his end and in that moment, a peaceful, easy feeling washed over him.
“Listen to me,”
“As if I have a choice?”
“You’re closing up shop on the gossip bingo party,”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and your little friend . . you need to quit talking about my family business,”
“What? The family business where people end up missing or dead?”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about,”
“We’ve speculated, sure . . same as anyone who reads your Wiki page. But I’ll cease and desist if you feel it will impinge on our . . . situation,”
“My first husband Vincent was a substitute teacher when I met him. He was thirty-two, I was a junior in high school. Do the math. I snuck out of the house one night and he treated me to Sizzler and I guess he figured I owed him something for the fine dining experience so we had sex in the backseat of his ’62 Buick . . .”
“Jesus,”
“I fell in love with the piece of shit,” She said as her eyes welled up.
“You were a kid,”
“There I was, no family except for a grandmother who was half blind and completely alcoholic and this fucked up father figure of a man who promised me a better life. Three years later I was pregnant with twins. I quit my job as an assistant manager at a car dealership . . .”
” . . . I turned thirty in the same town, two kids, working overnight shifts in a convenience store just to make ends meet while Vincent slept with every girl in the local titty bar. And that’s when I knew it was live or die time. That’s when I knew I would do anything it took!” Monica’s hands began to shake as her face transformed into an angular distortion.
“Okay . . .” He replied in a traced whisper.
“So whatever happened back there . . . happened. I regret nothing,”
“I’m on your side Monica,”
“Good,” She replied, leaning into him for a kiss before jumping out of bed and placing the Ruger on the bedside table. “It wasn’t loaded, but you already knew that,”
“Yeah . . sure,” Dantley lied.
“What’s for breakfast?”
“Anything but Sizzler . .”
“You are such a cheeky monkey, you know that?” She burrowed into him and they kissed more deeply now. As far as love things went, theirs was a glorious fuckstorm.
“What about Maury?”
“I would load the Ruger this time but it’s obvious you’re not daunted by the idea of having your face blown off,”
“Just a question,”
“I think I almost loved him. Until he started drinking again and he was taking everything out on me. I bet you his godson Riggs doesn’t know about that side of him, ”
“All I know is that a guy who lived in the same place his entire life went missing and was never found,”
“There you go again, speculating. For fuck’s sake Dantley, stop being predictable . . it’s so unbecoming,”
“Listen, I don’t give a great good fuck where Vincent or Maury ended up. And I’m not even gonna mention the mysterious circumstances surrounding the deaths of Pedro Mel or Graham,”
“You just did. Mel was lost inside his own head and Graham was worse than that and I didn’t have anything to do with how things ended with either of them. You don’t have to believe me but since I’m already on the hook for my first two husbands, why would I quit while I’m behind?”
“I didn’t say anything,”
“Let me finish. You already know enough about those situations to convict me in the court of public opinion if you chose to,”
“I don’t . . choose to,”
“Mel and Graham, they were tortured souls. Now I’m sure I did Graham no favors during our last conversation when I basically told him he should just end it all, considering his already frail state of mind,”
“I think I’ll make waffles,” Dantley said, changing the subject as he entered the kitchen. He found a brand new Bunn coffeemaker on the counter, courtesy of his sugar mama.
“You like?” Monica beamed.
“Oh shit babe, you shouldn’t have,” He smiled as he inspected his brand new toy.
“Don’t go throwing that one down the stairs,” She laughed.
“I’ll miss that ritual, but I guess it’s time to stop collecting carafes huh?”
“Death doesn’t faze you . . I mean, not in the least,”
“And?”
“It’s one of the things we have in common,” Monica smiled.
“I knew you weren’t really gonna take me out though. It would’ve ruined your chances of becoming Senator or President or Queen of some misbegotten country that doesn’t know how much it needs you yet,”
“That assumes I don’t have a cleaner,”
“That a girl,” Dantley said as he kissed her.
Bad Blood- Neil Sedaka
Hollywood Is Dead, Long Live Hollywood!
Curry Barker lives here now.
He’s the twenty-five year old YouTuber who wrote and directed the supernatural, psychological horror film, Obsession. A movie that has thus far grossed over $160 million bucks worldwide. And yeah, umm . . that’s on a budget of $750,000. Which has people wondering if the Hollywood we knew is preparing to meet up with the former King of France, Charles VII at the big ole’ Captain’s Club in the sky.
The answer is clear. Yes. And no.
Yeah it’s going to change the way this town does its business. But that’s been happening since the first reel made its way into the can. D.W. Griffith brought silent film to life and about eight people on the face of the earth could write a book report about the guy without needing ChatGPT. Oscar Micheaux trashed the narrow minded tropes of black people by depicting them as doctors, lawyers and businessmen and who remembers him? And as for the guys people do remember, Coppola and Scorsese made high art out of crime and punishment. Spielberg ushered in the era of the summer blockbuster. Tarantino showed us what independent filmmaking could offer. Nolan made nonlinear storytelling a fixture of the craft. Each and every one of these fellas were going to change things. And did.
The point is, change is what Hollywood has been doing, like, forever. It only feels as if everything has remained the same because production companies keep baking up reboots and relying on blockbusters when scores of more deserving ventures (Not so shameless Hamnet reference) get a sliver of the spotlight.
It’s really not personal though, it’s strictly business. Hollywood needs the reboots and the blockbusters. It’s how they butter their bread. For every art movie that wows a niche audience, there’s gotta be a Tom Cruise who behaves like a fucking maniac in the latest impossible mission. You want one, you’re gonna have to deal with the other. But I’m fairly certain that even Orson Welles would be impressed with all the cinematic works that have been brought to life since he left the building.
And just for the record, I ain’t putting Curry Barker on this Rushmore bus just yet. He just got here five minutes ago and as brilliant as his first joint is, he’s got a bunch of airline miles to go before he can sleep in those rooms. But lemme tell you, the kid is making sure Hollywood notices. And they have. The peeps at A24 were so impressed after viewing Obsession at a film festival that they asked him to reboot Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Yes it’s another reboot and yes, he would be a fool to say no. He’s going to have to stroke their egos while using his creative own. And you know what? As much as I bitch about reboot redux, I’ll go see his vision of the thing because quite simply, he has our full attention, for good reason.
Imma dish a quick review of Obsession and as much as it rankles the ankles of my OG pal Joe Pesci, there might be spoilers, so you can quit this post now if you plan on seeing this flick.
Michael Johnston plays Bear, the lovesick dope who pines for the affections of Nikki, played brilliantly by Inde Navarrette. Problem is, he’s stuck in the friend zone until he buys something called a One Wish Willow in a gift shop. He sits in his car after driving Nikki home one night and stews over his inability to tell her how he really feels. So he gets the brilliant idea (sic) to open the box and snap the willow as he wishes for Nikki to love him more than anything in the whole wide world and guess what? It works!
That? As it turns out . . ain’t great.
Once Nikki and Bear get together, it’s all French toast and painting toe nails. The requisite musical montage ensues, in which their love thing is presented in a fast forward cascade of silly, romantic scenarios. This time lapse is followed by a few scenes of comic relief that feel inescapably hopeless because you know it’s not going to last and that when this love bill comes due? So does all reason.
And that’s the thing. Brilliance doesn’t come from the big ideas. It comes from the small ones and the common ones and the mundane ones, made big by the manner in which they are presented to us. Obsession is just the latest love gone wrong song where boy meets girl, boy wishes girl would give him the time of day and then BOOM! But this boom achieves a sonic thrust.
Pretty fucking literally.
Barker uses sound like a master. He doesn’t simply revitalize the art of the jump scare, he reinvents it. It’s why the quiet moments in this movie leave you holding your breath in anticipation of the hellish inevitability that awaits. I haven’t been taken by the sound of a horror flick like this since The Exorcist, and coming from yours truly, that is high praise.
The maestro of this mayhem purposely goes cheap on the lighting, allowing him to paint a visual dimension to the ominous mood that hangs like a dark cloud over each and every scene. He allows the moviegoer to imagine what lives in the dark and yanno, that there is a director who knows his shit. By taking something away, he gives us so much more.
What separates this movie from other supernatural horror movies is the relatability it provides. Maybe a few of us out there have had a poltergeist for a roommate or have gotten lost in a forest with a witch that wants to eat our eyeballs. And hells bells, there are probably more than a few of us who believe they are raising the antichrist’s child. But by and large, it’s not that common a thing.
Crazy partners? Yeah, most of us have had some experience with a crazy partner and lived to tell the tale. About halfway through this movie, when things are going from bad to worse to nuh uh, I actually laughed out loud after a particularly horrible sequence of events. Not because I’m a psychopath (at least as far as I’m aware). No, my visceral reaction was the result of having experienced a similar situation(s). It taps into those memories, taking you back to that intersection between love and hate where you would have been just fine if a Mack truck ran the light on you. It’s ridiculous and it’s terrible and it’s all too real. Barker does that. He knows our secret rooms.
If the image above looks familiar, it’s from The Exorcist. It’s the iconic snapshot of Father Merrin, played by Max von Sydow, arriving at the MacNeil residence in Georgetown. This is a movie I swore I would never watch again thanks to Captain Howdy and Linda Fucking Blair. Obsession is pushing me to it because I find the parallels between these two movies to be fascinating enough that I am compelled to make the jump. Without a parachute.
Damn this kid.
Love Will Keep Us Together
Wordless Wednesday
Best Laid Plans
“I stayed up last night writing a eulogy until it occurred to me that Mel would’ve kicked my ass for being so presumptuous,” Dantley began. His voice was shaky but his legs were inspired by the brave face Trudy was showing as she sat in the front row, dressed all in black. His lovely bride of thirty-eight years, an anniversary that had now graduated into that sacred place called forever.
“Well, he wouldn’t have really kicked my ass because let’s face it, he was the last of the pacifists, yanno? But he would’ve given me that disappointed look that was so much worse than any ass kicking. Because you really had to mess up for Mel to look at you sideways. Mel forgave. He was kind. He was patient. He listened. These were his superpowers. You might not consider kindness, patience and forgiveness to be superpowers but I can assure you that we live in an age where the stuff is in shorter supply than the Beatles Yesterday and Today album. And . . these things . . they’re much more valuable. But it came naturally to Mel,”
Dantley took a breath and then a deeper one as he glanced back at his now former neighbor. He kept his gaze stuck to the man until the words came back to him, as if he were riding on a spell gifted him from the other side of that mystical door through which all the very best things got stolen.
“Damn . . . it really did come naturally to Mel. Not just forgiveness, but everything and I do mean everything. All the good stuff, he was made of it, and there was never a day when he wasn’t busy giving it away. He liked to say he owned nothing and he wouldn’t have it any other way and I think it took me way too long to figure out what the hell the man was talking about. But I did,”
“I have to disagree with Mel though, because he did own something. He owned the moments. All of ’em. Every single one. I remember one of our last conversations . . I was feeling mighty sorry for myself and Mel was having none of it. And then I started talking about do overs and he just stopped me right there and said ‘Dantley, every time we wake up . . it’s a do over’.”
“I’m gonna miss the hell out of him,”
Dantley stepped away from the podium and embraced Trudy in silence before moving back to his circle.
“How’d I do?” Dantley asked after tucking himself between his friends.
“Aside from all the ass kicking talk, I never realized how eloquent you could be,” Josh said.
“I had no prepared speech, man,” Dantley replied.
“Oh don’t listen to him Dantley, it was beautiful,” Emie said, taking his hand in hers and squeezing tightly.
“It really was beautiful, handsome . . .” Amy agreed, taking his other hand and squeezing tightly.
“Even at a funeral you’re scoring with the ladies,” Josh smiled.
“Hey, funerals are a top five hookup spot, didn’t you know?” Dantley observed.
“Jesus, I say one nice thing about you . . ” Emie said mockingly as she removed her hand from Dantley’s, the slightest of smiles creasing her face.
“Handsome, can I talk to you for a second?” Amy asked.
“Sure,”
The pair removed themselves and made way for the hallway in search of a private place where they could chat as Josh gave his pal googly eyes.
“You’re such a child,” Emie said.
“Hey, we’re watching a master at work here, give the man some respect will you?” Josh whispered as his friends exited the room.
With this being the last service of the day, the funeral home was empty so Amy and Dantley were able to find a quiet spot at the far end of the hallway. The space housed an impressive collection of corner cut casket displays. As the name explains, the display consists of one corner of a casket. Many funeral homes utilize the corner cut in order to save space. Dantley closed the door behind them and Amy spilled the beans, confessing that Nicholas had told her he needed some space.
” . . and that’s why he’s not here,”
“Oh shit babe, I’m sorry. You okay?”
“Yeah I’m good. This is for the best, really. I had a feeling about the guy and it wasn’t good,”
“What do you mean?”
“I think he knows way more about his brother’s death than he’s letting on,”
“You don’t think he had anything to do with it do you?”
“Honestly? I wouldn’t be shocked. I’m not saying he did and maybe I’m reading too much into some of the stuff he said . . .”
“Give me a for instance,”
“He said he was glad his brother was dead,”
“That’s not great,”
“No it’s not. And get this, the other night I overheard him on the phone with his mother. He was talking about how he didn’t think he could . . and I quote . . “Live with what I’ve done,” . .”
“Yeah well, Monica is the opposite. I know she’s got her hands in everything that’s happened but I have no way in. She’ll never crack . . the woman is Kevlar,”
“It doesn’t creep you out that you’re sleeping with a possible serial killer?” Amy asked.
“I’m a harmless diversion for her . . a good time when she has an hour to spare in her busy schedule,”
“Poor baby,” Amy laughed as they came together in an embrace. Which slowly turned into a longer embrace . . . which turned into a kiss . . which turned into the pair stripping off enough of their formal wear as was necessary and having at it on a desk. Moans and curses happening in whispered laughter until the door to the showroom opened.
They ducked behind the desk and got dressed as best they could. They were a disheveled sight to see, Dantley’s tie turned sideways and Amy’s hair a brilliant mess as Trudy and her sister moved inside the room before realizing what they had interrupted.
“My . . God! How could you?!” Trudy’s sister Brenda scolded before storming off.
“Trudy . . we’re so sorry . . really,” Dantley apologized as Amy sheepishly nodded her head.
Trudy stood silent for several moments before a smile began to form.
“Mel . . would have loved this,” She said, winking at the two before leaving the room.
Several hours later, Dantley leaned over his porch railing as he smoked the day’s last cigarette. Amy and him had agreed to cool their heels as far as a rekindling of their former love thing went. It was the smart move, at least for now.
He caught sight of Trudy as she returned home and he went downstairs to greet her.
“I’m sorry for walking in on you kids today,” She apologized.
“Trudy, I’m the one who’s sorry . .”
“Nonsense. I told you already, Mel would have wanted this day to be about love and hope so I have to believe he’s laughing his ass off about the whole thing,”
“What about your sister?”
“Brenda was just pissed because she hasn’t had sex in forever,” Trudy replied.
“Thank you,” Dantley said humbly.
“So . . you and Amy?”
“No. We got caught up in all that love and hope Mel was sending out I guess. But we have some things to figure out,”
“You’re a beautiful couple,” Trudy said as she gave Dantley a kiss on the cheek before heading inside.
“Hey Trudy?”
“Yes?”
“Do you mind fetching me a blanket? For old time’s sake?” Dantley asked as he took a seat on the porch.
Trudy returned with a blanket, which she handed to Dantley.
“Goodnight Romeo,”
“Goodnight mama,”
Dantley stretched out and lost himself to the stars above.
Spaceship Orion
Wordless Wednesday
Best Laid Plans
When last we saw Dantley, he was sleeping with the enemy and loving every minute of it. In the time since, Monica Greene swept into office on the currency afforded her by a maelstrom of discontent coming out of Washington. She promised an antidote, and her adoring fanbase- growing by the social media minute- was betting on her unknown brand to figure shit out. Or absent that, at least not add to the fuckery of present day.
Dantley was on the payroll. He had taken a shortcut in becoming a speechwriter for the newest shining star in the world of politics. As such, he begrudgingly created a business card with Lisa’s help. A handsome piece of minimalism containing just the facts, painted in bone with Silian Rail, whose inspiration was gained from the movie American Psycho, appropriately.
“Fucking piece of shit. Die! . . .” Dantley grunted as he threw his latest arch nemesis down the retrofitted fire escape stairwell that led to his apartment. He watched the spiraling death with a dreamy, murderous smile. The subject of his enmity in this instance being the latest love song gone wrong coffeemaker. He spared the carafe in order to save himself the task of sweeping up the pointy bits of evidence.
“What in the hell are you going on about now?” Mel asked as he stuck his head out from under his front porch.
“Fucking coffeemaker shit the bed,” Dantley replied.
“Another one?”
Dantley nodded as he lit up a cigarette and joined Mel. “Yeah, that makes four since I moved in here. On a positive note, I’ve got plenty of carafes upstairs in case you’re ever in need . . .”
“Here’s a thought. Shell out some dough on a dependable coffeemaker, since you’ve got the personality of shit on a stick when you don’t have some java in you. Hold on kid, I’ll grab you a cup,”
Mel disappeared into the house and came out with a steaming cuppa which he handed over to his upstairs neighbor.
“Just the way you like it, just a splash of milk . .”
“Much obliged. And to answer your question, I had a real coffeemaker and it died on me, right at the end of my marriage,”
“That’s some irony for you,” Mel laughed. “So what is this latest journey into the clearance end of coffee harvesters all about? Penance for all your many sins?”
“I’m not that deep Mel. Nah . . it’s about cheaping my way along until I move back in the house,”
“Oh shit! You and Marie are getting back together?”
“Bite your tongue, twice. She’s engaged to Grant, the guy she met when we were both on the same dating site? He was the second guy she went out with from that site . .”
“No shit! You’ve got her beat by a solid dozen if my fuzzy math is working,”
“Yeah. Well, she’s gonna be moving in with him and I told her I would move back into the house at such time. But only to clear the decks in order to sell the place. It wouldn’t be long term,”
“Too many memories, huh?”
“Too much space. I’m just not comfortable with all that room,”
“You’re an odd duck, you know that?” Mel said, shaking his head.
“I’ve been told,” Dantley replied as he watched his cop pal Riggs pull into the parking lot.
“Uh oh, I better go hide the weed,” Mel smiled.
“You do that. And thanks for the coffee Mel,” Dantley said as he strode up to Riggs.
“Morning Chief,”
“Fuck you with that Chief shit,” Riggs laughed.
“Listen, if you’re collecting money for a fundraiser . . I’m gonna have to politely refuse on account of the fact I know you guys use those monies for keggers,”
“You know why I’m here,” Riggs said.
“Monica,”
“What are you doing Dantley?”
“Having sex on the regular and getting paid for it. Okay, that didn’t come out right,”
“She’s bad news man,”
“She’s got a history. We all have a history Riggs,”
“Yeah but hers involve two disappeared husbands and at least another couple of mysteriously abrupt deactivations,”
“All explained, albeit with less veracity than an Applebee’s Prime Rib. But still Riggs, she’s invested in this new gig and I wouldn’t bet against her,”
“Shit, neither would I. But you best be watching where you step or you could be the next poor asshole to be featured in a Dateline episode,” Riggs warned.
Dantley raised his eyes to a brilliant swing of clouds stabbing in to the damp Cerulean sky. He pondered the woebegone life Monica had clawed her way out of as a young woman and maybe it was all a brilliant lie, but damn . . even if it was? Her brilliance as a storyteller was enough to keep him coming back for more.
“Riggs, you know I’m a fool for a Shakespearean tale,”
“Then you know damn well Lady Macbeth don’t play,”
“No, but I’m not a threat to her. Whereas her first husband beat on her, you told me as much with those police reports. And the artist, what’s his name . .”
“Pedro Mel,”
“Pedro was running more angles than Frank Lloyd Wright. And Graham Carlson was a train wreck who was more serious about playtime with pastor than cashing in on the dream Monica had worked her ass off to make happen . .”
“Seems like you’re down with her sickness Dantley,”
“No, I’m understanding of a woman who did whatever it took to rise above. Hell, we both know if she had a dick, we’d be celebrating her tenacity . .”
“What about her second husband? Maury? How do you explain his murder then?”
“Alleged murder. And we don’t know the particulars of their marriage Riggs,”
“Speak for yourself,”
“What are you not telling me?”
“Okay, this shit stays in this space right here,” Riggs said, making a box out of the confined radius that separated them. “Maury was my Godfather . . .”
“Holy Jesus on jam bread Riggs! What the fuck?!”
“Yeah, I met Monica Greene once. Before she was Monica Greene. Maury adored her, worshipped the ground she walked on. The man was in love and even my stupid ass young self could see it . . .”
“So you don’t think he had anything to do with whatever it is that may or may not have happened to her first husband?” Dantley asked.
“I don’t know that, but if Maury did have something to do with it, it’s because of her,”
“Gimme a break Riggs. He was a middle aged retired cop, respectfully . .”
“I’m serious. The man lived for her and it cost him his life and no one is ever gonna convince me otherwise. Listen, all I’m saying is watch yourself,”
“Are you going after her?” Dantley asked.
“Mama didn’t raise no fool. I have nothing to go after at this point, and besides, I’m a month removed from grabbing a pension and being a daily pain in my wife’s ass,”
“Don’t worry about me Riggs. I’m Monica’s latest distraction is all. She’ll get bored with our situation before too long and then I’ll have to content myself with having Monica Greene on my romantic resume,”
“That’ll keep you in business . . just so long as you live long enough to tell the tale,” Riggs said.
Violent Femmes- Blister In The Sun
The Rundown: Series Finale!
That’s right, this news rundown thing has reached the end of the line. I think Imma stick to fiction from now on because let’s face it . . fiction needs all the help it can get, what with real life kicking its ass on a daily basis. You might be thinking Well Marco, you can keep on doing the Rundowns when you’re in the mood without actually . . yanno . . reading up on the news, no? Well . . . chyeah, but I was already doing that. And it wasn’t helping me none because the stuff has become too depressing even to mimic from afar.
So let’s roll with it, one last time.
Whatever Happened To The Kit Kat Thieves?- I’m thinking they melted the shit down and sold it to Applebee’s.
They’re Never Going To Find Nancy Guthrie, Are They?- Wow.
The New York Knicks!- Have I watched a minute of NBA action this season? I don’t think I have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t peek at an article here or a YouTube highlight there. And New York’s basketball team is thisclose to making it back to the finals for the first time in more than a quarter century. If they were to win it all, the parade would be bigger than all their other neighbor teams combined. Of course, that would mean taking down either the defending champion OKC Thunder or the next “It” team in the Victor Wembanyama-led San Antonio Spurs. Umm . . good luck with that.
The Montreal Canadiens!- They’re the last Canadian team standing and they’ve got the mighty Hurricanes standing between them and another trip to the Stanley Cup finals. Last night’s big win in Game 1 notwithstanding, it won’t come easy. The Habs have won every kind of way this playoff season, and they’re going to need every single one of those ways if they want to take down the Carolina Canes. It’s a battle of one of the best NHL sweaters versus one of the worst. All’s that’s on the line? History.
Man On Fire- The Netflix show is a solid watch, even if they pulled the rug out from under us by teasing a certain star and then killing off that certain star before the show had pushed it into second gear. Maybe I should’ve issued a spoiler alert before saying this, but I just know Joe Pesci would be proud of me for not.
I’m finishing The Sopranos- I watched the first three seasons way back when and then I forgot about it. Honestly, I don’t know why I decided to finish it now but for what it’s worth . . they should’ve kept it to four seasons. The last two seasons were entertaining enough, but they were all over the place.
And last but certainly not least, here’s wishing the inimitable John Howell a very happy 85th birthday. It’s kinda cool that he made the final episode of The Rundown but hey . . . that’s why I call him the Boss.
Semisonic- Closing Time
Wordless Wednesday
Sex, Lies And Digital Video Files
Admittedly, the title of this post does not possess the same allure as the 1989 film but let’s face it, we’re living in the age of deleterious derivation so ya get what ya get. And since Imma be chatting up the Russini/Vrabel imbroglio, I needs me an Applebee’s-sized amount of filler to ride this puppy home. How much filler, you ask? A random top five list that has nothing to do with the Russini/Vrabel imbroglio . . that’s how much.
Top Five Reasons Sex, Lies And Videotape Is the Best Movie I’ll Never See . . .
5- The cast! Ya got James Spader, Andie MacDowell, Laura San Giacomo and Peter Gallagher. That is one sexy fucking collection of thespians.
4- Speaking of sexy, Rob Lowe was not in this flick . . even though I would’ve bet money he was. It’s a common misconception given that Lowe was involved in a real life sex scandal the year before this movie was released.
3- This flick forced movie execs to pay attention to the indie scene.
2- Steven Soderbergh wrote it in eight days.
1- It kicks 50 Shades ass, and I never had to watch either of these movies to know that much.
Okay . . . I guess I should get to talking about the latest scandal coming out of that infamously Gated community up in New England. This is the third act in their scandal ridden history. Spy-gate involved the Patriots stealing something that wasn’t theirs. And Deflate-gate involved a prominent Patriot’s balls.
Booty-gate involves both.
If you have an actual life, you probably ain’t down with the deets on the extramarital affair involving NFL reporter Dianna Russini and New England Patriots head coach Mike Vrabel. Congratulations on having a life! You can scroll right to the end of this post and plug into some classic rock and roll.
Back in early April when Mike Vrabel insisted the rumors of a lambada with Dianna Russini was just so much yada yada about nada, that was good enough for me. Because, honestly, I didn’t give a flying Wallenda how two adults behaved in the privacy of their own hotel room.
Then this week happened and things kinda changed for me. I spent several hours in dedicated research of Le Zotto Affogato the other day. Alright, alright . . it was a good hour. Okay, it was like twenty minutes, but it still counted and here’s why.
I learned that this affair might not be a something on the scale of wars, inflation or high gas prices, but it is most definitely something. Because I didn’t have to spend several hours in dedicated research to uncover a disturbing truth. Nobody in the media wants any part of this story, nobody.
Dianna Russini is what’s called an NFL ‘insider’ in the media biz. This is the new school term for reporter. As such, she’s plugged in to the inner workings of NFL front offices across the league. She’s privy to the particulars of professional organizations whilst competing with her colleagues for scoops and headlines on the regular. It’s an uber competitive industry so when you can break the news you can make a career. So it stands to reason that Russini’s huddle time with coach has presented her with a serious advantage. Nashville sports talkie Jared Stillman is one of the few people talking about this thing and he claims there is plenty of fire to go along with all these smoking headlines. Stillman covered Vrabel when he was the Tennessee Titans head coach and he offers up some fascinating insight into how Russini scored stories, sources and more thanks to their relationship.
So why has Fox Sports and ESPN and the countless legion of sports outlets remained silent about all this? Welp, because the NFL has basically told them to keep their noses out of it, that’s why. And I should know better than to be disappointed seeing as how journalism sold out to the highest bidder a long time ago, but still . . .
Here’s the thing. Russini and Vrabel isn’t just about two people screwing behind closed doors. It’s about how we’re all getting screwed senseless by those with money, power and influence. And you know the saddest part?
We’ve resigned ourselves to the lie.
Lyin’ Eyes (2018 Remaster)
Be Sorry . . . Less 