Tuesday, January 16, 2018

OH, Jean Porter - she was in an Abbott & Costello Film!

What a way to get an obit:

JEAN PORTER, appeared in ABBOTT & COSTELLO film and others...

Jean who? Got a picture. Oh, thanks:

Who knows, Jean may have been glad to sign that photo, mailed to her by some corpulent, earnest and submissively humble "film fan." Especially one who desperately needed it to completely his collection of A&C co-star autographs, which included spending way too much for a Gordon Jones on eBay.

Porter had more credits and more of a story. Born in Texas, she was a precocious ten-year old when she starred on a Saturday morning local radio show. By 12, she was in Hollywood, competing with all the other cute kids for film roles. However, it wasn't until she was a very sweet 16 that she landed some good roles and ingenue parts, and signed a deal with MGM. Bud and Lou were on loan from Universal when they made "Abbott and Costello in Hollywood" in 1945, which turned out to be her "biggie." At least, as far as trivia fans are concerned. She married director-writer Edward Dmytryk in 1948, and the marriage lasted to 1999 when he passed away.

Jean co-starred in "Cry Danger" (1951) and Bogart's "Left Hand of God" (1955), and appear in such vintage TV shows as "77 Sunset Strip" and "Sea Hunt." She did flee Hollywood for a while; her husband Edward was blacklisted for being a Communist and was being harassed by "Red Scare" politicians. The Dmytryks, like refugees, turned up in England in 1951, but eventually resigned themselves to returning home...where Edward served six months for "contempt of Congress."

Had she been able to stretch her experiences with Lou Costello and Bogart into some kind of book, she may have had fanboys lining up to buy it. Instead, she and her husband chose to write: "On Screen Acting" (credited to Edward and Jean Dmytryk).

Tasteless YouTube Stars? HEY DUDE, don't make it BAAAAD

Hey, BRO...everybody deserves a second chance. Shrug shrug. WHATEVER.

So says some guy you probably never heard of called LOGAN PAUL. If he was normal, his name would be Paul Logan. But hey, his FATHER is probably a DUUUUUDE TOOOOOO, and figured all kids now have to have a last name for a first name. It's KEWL.

Daddy PAUL, by the way, assures everyone that his fabulous son WILL BE BACK. No matter what. Whether it's on YouTube or maybe Instagram, or Reddit, or Newser or Gawker or Daily Beast or Pestboy or Asswipe or JACKASS APP or whatever new and horrific device allows no-talent morons to have a massive audience.

So, this righteous, awesome DUUUUDE was giggling and chuckling while recording a suicide victim's corpse. WHATEVER.

PS, didn't read this story before? Isn't there ALWAYS some "YOUTUBE" star doing something horrific? Or just obnoxious? Aren't there all kinds of witless maniacs ranting on YOUTUBE and making big money, laughing at people, DISSING people, opening packages to show everyone what's in the box on the latest new video game or Apple product? Aren't there opinionated twits, prattling bunnies and all kinds of tasteless fools making "Keeping up with the Kardashians" look like "Meet the Press?"

LOGAN PAUL?? He's... a Millennial. It's what they do. They've been inundated with violence and porn since they were old enough to stare at the Internet. Unlike US, who grew up in a milder time.

Millennials don't just see Davy Crockett shooting a bear. They see happy ladies send an arrow into the head of a feral cat and laugh about it on social media.

Millennials don't just see naked ladies in Playboy and Penthouse. They see invasion of privacy "CELEBJIHAD" hacked pictures of celebrities, "Revenge Porn," and with a click of "I'm over 18" (if that), perversions even DeSade never thought of.

Back in the day, we opened a newspaper and read about violence but didn't see it. Millennials check out news websites and go RIGHT to the picture of the girl with the acid-scarred face, the soldier with his guts hangout of his stomach, and the atrocity shots of a family killed by one of their own. And they LAUGH, LAUGH, LAUGH. You want to be the hit of the schoolyard today? Grab your cellphone and dial up ROTTEN dot com, and show the pictures to all your friends. HA HA HA.

So LOGAN PAUL is, come on, just reflecting the times. He deserves a second chance to be even more obnoxious. He's the real life version of what Sean Penn was in "Ridgemont High" or Owen Wilson was in almost every Owen Wilson film. A total DOUCHE. That's the world today. If you're not laughing, there's something WRONG witchooooo.



Friday, January 12, 2018

Mort Sahl and the Morons

One thing celebrities learn very quickly about Social disease Media, is that it's loaded with MORONS.

As bad as it is being recognized by cheerful oafs on the street, or being tediously subjected to dubious unwell well-wishers at a book or memorabilia signing, it's doubly depressing to "check the Tweets."

Twitter. Facebook. "Comments" or questions running alongside your "streaming" show. It's very likely to confirm that the average "fan" is an IDIOT.

Here's Mort, the self-proclaimed last man standing, sitting for his weekly hour of streaming anecdotes at the small Throckmorton Theater. How...small? About 20 people fit into the room. How many are watching? Maybe 300 or 400. It beats not doing anything at all, which is what drives former celebrities to Social disease Media in the first place. They don't know the reality which is that they can be lost among the hoi polloi who THINK they are stars, and who can often pull far more idiots to "friend" them or "follow" them.

The idea is that while Mort talks about Haig, or recalls Stan Kenton, people watching the stream can ask questions, which will be read out loud toward the end of the show.

Well, gosh, somebody wants to know if Mort ever met Sterling Hayden. Somebody else says "Hello Mort." A few people simply keep up a running commentary, to score which jokes were funny, or to agree or disagree. If Mort was able to glance at these posts as they were coming in, he might get up, grab his cane, and walk out with surprising speed.

The sad fact with Sahl is that for all the hipsters and intellectuals and "political thinkers" who are supposed to "get" him, his audience is made up of JFK conspiracy morons and, yeah, people who are as in awe of Mort as Mort is of Stan Kenton. Which doesn't mean much, as you can see from the questions they ask.

Similarly disappointed are the comedians and wits who join Twitter to encounter mostly trolls; they get bored topping them. They also find themselves scrutinized by PC idiots who get "offended" over every joke they share.

Another disappointed group are the aging actresses from 60's and 70's TV and movies, who discover that all their mostly male fans want to do is ask what size bra they wear, or ask to see "more sexy photos," or leave a general comment like: "I'd do her even at her age."

The great thing about being on stage is that you can't see the audience. The great thing about Movies, TV and albums, is you ALSO can't see the audience and they can't ask you questions and the best approval is the royalty check. It was a lot easier to have the illusion of being a star and having intelligent fans before Social disease Media. The brightest stars are the ones who either DON'T have accounts, or assign some stooge to post for them and pretend to be them. As in, "If you do find that somebody has posted something interesting, email it to me." Response: "OK, that might be one email a month...because the average person who likes you is a moron."


After they stop singing the same song twelve times per album on a dozen more albums, maybe Taylor Swift and Adele will really go for laughs.

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Da Nerve of Deneuve - Belle du Jour fights for Clumsy Ass-patters

You remember Catherine Deneuve? Perhaps for "Belle du Jour?"

It turns out her response to the "Me Too" movement is a gasp of "Sapristi!" Followed by a dollop of whup-ass. She feels that if some guy wants to flirt, it might NOT be "harassment," and that somebody's lack of social skills with women shouldn't automatically get him fired from a job he does well for the general public.

She might well have had the ex-Senator Al Franken in mind, the guy hounded out of office by Sen. Kirsten Jellybrain and her sanctimonious band of shrill shrikes.

Is there any question that in toppling a giant, power-mad bully like Harvey Weinstein, some much more benign and generally helpful guys have been dragged down with him? Jeffrey Tambor, who ironically had his best success in many years by sensitively playing a transgender woman, was forced to curtsy and depart in disgrace. For what? For making a move on a cast member in a clumsy way? That was about it. Al Franken joked about how pathetic he was in trying to touch some untouchable Playboy bunny, and in the course of meet and greets with THOUSANDS of women, let his hand stray to a rump or two. Charlie Rose? Being an egocentric superstar, wanted by both CBS and PBS simultaneously, he figured that walking around with his robe open was a fine way to show a woman he was available. Clumsy. Stupid. But career-ending moves? Not to Deneuve.

What is important is that the "Me Too" movement calls attention to how women should be treated and what is fair in the workplace. There's a lot of "consciousness raising" to be done about this, as some still figure that if a woman is going to paint herself up and dress to attract, she's doing what men do NOT do. So she shouldn't be surprised if she's treated the way she projects.

What detracts from "the movement" is the McCarthy-like witch-hunt hysteria of chasing men back over several decades to what they did, or might have done, in an era of sexual liberation and "free love." It was a time when Nancy Friday wrote about the "Secret Garden," and Erica Jong had a best seller that was all about sex. It was a time of "burn the bra" and let it all hang out. It was a time of acknowledging women had a sex drive too. It was a time when bawdy talk on a film set was not a crime, and when Lauren Bacall, in her autobiography, could frankly admit that she fucked the bellboy at her hotel just to keep him from constantly bothering her with his fawning, and compliments and attention. She did it out of control, not out of weakness, and wrote about it that way.

It's interesting, isn't it, that at the Golden Globes, dozens of women dressed provocatively. They showed off their curves and their plunging necklines. Men simply wore suits. So what's that mean? That women want to be treated as equals and not sexual objects, or something else?

Catherine Deneuve makes an important point in questioning how the Puritans and prudes of the world will seize on this current "Me Too" craze in order to put through agendas that might shut down a sex shop selling vibrators or make it even more difficult for a woman to choose birth control. The hysteria that banished one of the more capable senators in Congress, Al Franken, could lead to more blue-nosed nonsense that would be dangerous to both sexes.

Saturday, January 6, 2018

"Did the DEVIL tell you to kill?" "No, Pat Sajak."

Yes, it IS sort of funny. But it's not. And I know from experience.

Some maniac who wanted to kill, found an excuse in something he heard Pat Sajak say. Of course. Pat Sajak was talking to HIM. The two words, "DO IT" were a clear message.

"Did the DEVIL tell you to kill?" "No, Pat Sajak." "Same thing."

You could come up with a dozen like that, if there was a late night show sick enough to put 'em in the monologue.

It's hard to resist, even when you've had experience with delusional idiots blaming celebrities.

After my bio on Bill Cosby came out, I got a bit of "fan mail." The most amusing was a kind of perfunctory letter from a kid who said he was "forced" as a school assignment to write to the author of a book. So he chose to read my book, and let me know.

The least amusing was from a guy who wanted my help in convincing Bill Cosby to STOP MONITORING HIM. STOP TORMENTING HIM. STOP FOLLOWING HIM. The chilling letter described how Cosby was using "rays" to not only keep track of him, but to penetrate his brain. It went on and on. Bill Cosby, of all people, as the source of this demented person's agony.

The more sophisticated maniac, like Charles Manson, would pick a much more "logical" thing to hang his craziness on. Like the song "Helter Skelter." But, uncomfortably, there are people who find themselves helpless or homicidal because of a Bill Cosby or a Pat Sajak.

Jerry Van Dyke - "younger brother" to the end

Funny, a while ago, Jerry Van Dyke and Tommy Smothers were co-starring in a revival of "The Sunshine Boys." Where were their brothers? How come they weren't co-starring in a revival with their famous brothers, Dick Van Dyke and Dick Smothers?

Jerry said something like, "We're appearing without our Dicks!"

The guy did have a sense of humor on his own. He did have a career on his own. I remember my friend Julie Newmar telling me how Jerry almost got the Jack Mullaney part in her series "My Living Doll." Jerry was also offered the lead on "Gilligan's Island." He eventually decided on making his starring sitcom debut on "My Mother the Car."

The show became a legendary punchline as an example of sitcom premise excess. But Jerry himself was just fine on the show. He didn't look or act so much like Dick Van Dyke that people couldn't accept him on his own. It's just that even Dick Van Dyke had his problems after that legendary sitcom went off the air. Dick had some shows fail and it took decades, and a whole new look (white hair and mustache) before he returned to TV's Top 10 in "Diagnosis Murder."

By that time, Jerry had been through a few more sitcoms (including "Accidental Family") and a long run and several Emmy nominations for "Coach." It's fair to say that there were people watching "Coach" who had never seen "The Dick Van Dyke Show," or knew that Jerry had appeared in a few episodes as Rob Petrie's eccentric sleepwalking banjo-playing younger brother.

All the above is from memory, and triggered by this unfortunate headline in the New York Post:

That headline was the most egregious today, as it chose to mention his VERY few appearances on Dick's show (what were they, two or three?) and not "Coach" or a generic identification: "Sitcom Star Jerry Van Dyke dies..." Around the country, many headlines were redundant about "Dick Van Dyke's brother Jerry Van Dyke dies..."

For some reason, Snopes got the credits right...but tossed in the name JERRY SPRINGER for some odd reason.

And so it was, that even in death, Jerry was not given the dignity of being identified for his own achievements.