It's Monday, Write Your Own Headline
I got your subtitle right here
Tax Day! Don’t forget to show the lining of your pockets to your government at gunpoint, you filthy hillbillies.
This from the Daily Mail is kinda funny:
Hating on Hillary! Joe Biden sent family scathing articles about Clinton's declining popularity with black voters, impending investigation over her private email server and top aide's private deals with the UAE, Hunter's emails reveal
Wow. He’s just like us.
Those backstabbing bastards hate each other just as much as we hate them all. Possibly more. The only difference is, then they smile together for the cameras.
Remember when all the data on that laptop was “Russian disinformation”? Those were the days.
I’m taking the following nugget of CNN backstage drama with a grain of salt, but it’s fun to think about:
Here’s a taste of what CNN might be giving up:
Imagine selling your soul for that.
Brian Stelter has a face for radio and a voice for silent movies. He’s creepy as hell and, considering how much practice he’s had, a terrible liar. How did he ever end up on TV in the first place? I assume he’s got blackmail material on some powerful people at the network, like his ex-colleague Fredo Cuomo. Let’s see how much good that does him, the ambulatory tuber.
This young man is going places. He has my unreserved endorsement.
Just started reading David Mamet’s latest non-fiction book, the rather cumbersomely titled Recessional: The Death of Free Speech and the Cost of a Free Lunch. I’m less pessimistic than Mamet — who isn’t? — but he makes a strong case that something very important is dying in America. The pace at which we’re all losing our minds is only accelerating, journos are now openly caviling against freedom of expression, and objective truth itself is becoming a relic of the past. Mamet is cranky and pedantic, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.
Or maybe things were always this bad, and we were just blissfully ignorant of it in the days when we got 30 minutes of news per day instead of a constant firehose. Maybe we were all better off before we could see, on a minute-by-minute basis, just how rotten our self-appointed betters really are.
Anyway, Mamet owns the libs. Go read it.
The following seems to be intended as a rhetorical question:
I vividly remember watching how such an event ended on live TV.
Let me know when Christians start hijacking planes and flying them into buildings, Congresswoman Omar. Until then, your religion’s PR problems are nobody else’s fault.
Not only was yesterday Easter, but it was also Rowdy Roddy Piper’s birthday. He would’ve turned 68 if he hadn’t been taken from us far too soon.
And what better way to commemorate the occasion than to look back at the time he put the fear of God into Bill Maher?
The look on Maher’s face said it all: “The next few seconds are going to decide the rest of my life. I don’t wanna end up like Richard Belzer.”1
First I loved to hate Piper, but then gradually I hated to love him. They Live is a classic of American cinema and that’s the end of the discussion.
I’ve been dabbling in wrestling fandom again, after not paying much attention since Mick Foley left the ring 20 years ago. AEW is a lot of fun and reminds me of the local Indianapolis wrestling I watched as a kid, but with less body fat and more fireworks. It’s dumb and predictable, but the athleticism is amazing and some of these guys are genuinely good actors. MJF and Danhausen are two of my current favorites, because you can’t stop watching them whether they’re in the ring or not.
Wrestling is a great American art form, like vaudeville with spinal injuries.
Sure, the outcomes of matches are predetermined, but they’re really doing all that stuff. Jumping around and getting slammed to the mat over and over has got to hurt. These guys wreck their bodies for our entertainment.
And I dare you to go up to that dude and say his wrestling moves look gay. Hope you can sell a powerbomb or three!
Alright, have a less annoying Monday than I am. Shouldn’t be tough.
If you’ve never seen it, here’s what happened when Richard Belzer challenged Hulk Hogan to show him a real wrestling move:
Well, that certainly wasn’t fake, was it? Belzer ended up suing Hogan and using the money to buy a villa in France, and a few decades later Hogan hit Gawker with an atomic leg drop, so it all worked out.
I gave up on wrestling when I was 15 yo, knowing it was all stagecraft, but, hey, it was entertaining. Not nearly as entertaining as watching Piper ask Maher "how he got the job?" if he wasn't pulling down his pants in front of other men.
Not only less annoying but I got to spread the misery. Thanks for the good thought.