Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Any Women Reading This?

 

Why America doesn't put Mike Leigh on its shoulders and carry him from city to city handing out official keys to important rooms puzzles me on a daily basis.

Yes, he's a Brit, not a Yank, but he's one of the finest film directors in the world.

Do I overstate here?  No.

This guy finds what's distinctive in our routines.  Why what's common isn't.

So, women.  If you haven't seen Happy-Go-Lucky, do it today.  

Well, rent it or queue it today.

Life getting to you?  Watch this film.


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Saturday, July 24, 2010

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Stacheless In Seattle


That scene in Whit Stillman's Barcelona where the naval lieutenant Fred, the jingoistic East-Coast Establishmentarian, the yuppified 'ugly American', ponders whether an upper lip is more effectively shaven with the grain of mustache or against it.

After 15 years, the answer: doubly.

First, with the grain. Then, against it.


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Friday, January 1, 2010

Get Me The News Desk!



In His Girl Friday where Rosalind Russell, Cary Grant, and Ralph Bellamy talk over one another and hold different, frenetic telephone conversations at once, all in the same stretch of desk space,

bodies turning and bobbling to hear what's being said on the other side of the line, making definitive plans of one kind or another to advance plot machinations.

Opera ensemble.


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Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Monday, December 28, 2009

Deadline




There should be writing material placed with me in the crypt

-- or even the urn.

Beyond the grave reportage! That would do tribute to print journalism!


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Saturday, December 26, 2009

Moving Feet, Bobbing Head, Toga


A frivolous wish:

To live life with the joy of a continuing loop of 'Louie-Louie', 3 beers to the wind.

(. . . Uh . . . and 'babes'?)

Friday, December 25, 2009

Made In China


New slippers

Shipped from the PRC

My cat sniffs both:

A universe in two teak drawers

Of an herbalist's chest.



Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Sweet Nothin's




She went to bend over him, then he went over her, and in their moments of first embrace, they shared deep lustful secrets.





Hardwood floor
, his stare fixing her in place.

Large walk-in closet, her retort mocking through her teeth.

Stainless steel appliances, his control losing itself in his grunt,

she finally calling out 'His-and-hers' bathroom sinks,

the experience redefining what love means.








Title Pitch For WW II-Theme TV Cooking Shows



1) Noshin' With Stalin

2) Panzer Picnic

3) Il Duce Spaghetti Feed

4) Fast-Food At Der Fuehrer's


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The Presents, As They Are Being Wrapped



What rollicking Christmas pleasure have I this day listening to my personally-compiled (jazzy, quirky) Holiday Music Mix! In paroxysms of laughter at my all-thumbs manner of scissoring, shaping, folding, taping, bowing, and handwriting!

Why do these people still want to know me? I ask, continuing, daring any and all comers finally to locate any motor-moron who wraps presents worse than I.

Riotous fun!


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