CASINO NOT SO ROYALE

Believe it or not, this doesn't get old.

We arrived home on Tuesday from a brief family sojourn in Nassau, Bahamas, celebrating our daughter's acceptance into the college of her choice. This was our first time in the Bahamas, although we've visited  Puerto Rico, Costa Rica, and the Islands of Cayman and Virgin. There's much to recommend when vacationing to these countries -- weather, food, drinking before noon -- but I always try to get around to smoking a Cuban cigar, and, if possible, hitting the nearest casino. Nassau would provide my first chance to combine the two activities.

That's right, granny, keep putting
your Social Security checks to
good use.

You've seen the commercials for Foxwoods or similar gambling joints, right? Hip, well-dressed 30-somethings, stepping out of limousines, winning with every pull of the slot machine or roll of the dice. The guys pumping their fists in the air, their girlfriends giggling when getting a payout, followed by a dinner of quail under glass, the evening topped with a five-star stage show. Maybe that's how it is when there's a commercial shoot going on, but the reality, as I've always experienced it, consists of dull, bleary-eyed, overweight tourists in Spandex and souvenir t-shirts, robotically dropping quarters in the latest movie-themed slot machines, traveling not by limos but Hoverounds. Nassau, I hoped, would be different.

Go ahead -- you tell him earrings are effeminate.

I strode confidently into the casino, feeling luckier than Bugs Bunny let loose in a ladies-only warren. We apparently arrived in Nassau before the official start of gambling season, for the card, craps, and roulette tables weren't in operation until April 30th. That left the hundred or so slot machines, along with electronic poker games "dealt" by buxom women on large video screens. There were maybe two dozen gamblers, tops, scattered around the room, none of whom seemed to be having nearly as much fun as those couples on the commercials. Even worse, I had forgotten to bring a toothpick to make a hole in the tip of the cigar, forcing me to chew off an inch before spitting it out in the nearest garbage can like a latter-day Edward G. Robinson. Classy.

There's something almost refreshing about taking your first hit on a good Cuban cigar -- a smoothness and flavor lacking in their American counterparts. Unfortunately, I must have bought one of the lesser-brands, for this was some mighty harsh smoking, leaving an aftertaste akin to a three-alarm fire at a tobacco farm. Nevertheless, I was a regular Puffin' Billy as I made the rounds of the casino, leaving a trail of smoke behind me as if I had just elected a new pope. The $10 slots were too rich for my blood, the penny slots too cheap. Like a corrupt Goldilocks, I decided that the $1 Wheel of Fortune slot was just right. Taking my place on the stool, I pulled an ashtray closer, slid a $20 into the machine, and started making those plans of building a bungalow on a Nassau beach.

That was my problem: instead of the
"Hollywood Edition," I played the
"Losers Edition."

The slots today give you the option of pushing a button to play, but, old-schooler that I am, I pulled the lever. That would give me an edge, right? Apparently so, for I was soon I was up by a few bucks -- bucks that I kept playing, for those, too, would put me over the hump, into a higher tax bracket (if only for a year). In about five minutes of pulling the lever -- the only real exercise I got during my stay -- I shot my wad without so much as a "B'bye" from Vanna White. I had been puffing the Habana almost non-stop the whole time, leaving me dizzy with a low-level headache and a high-level stink.

A double-sawbuck used to be my limit when collecting movie posters, and would remain when gambling. I got unsteadily to my feet and made my way toward the exit, pausing only to watch a cigarette smoke-engulfed group play the electronic poker game. My eyes (now teary from the smoke) and my cigar-addled brain started playing tricks, as I swore that the aforementioned buxom video card dealer was flirting with me. I stubbed out the barely half-smoked cigar in the nearest ashtray and stumbled out the doorway.

"Almost there, honey!"

Never was a journey down a hall, up an escalator, and across a lobby so arduous. I was hot and chilled at once, achy and dizzy as if coming down with the flu. Cigars and gambling atop the heavy meal and two rounds of beers -- it all climaxed for a Caligariesque experience when I got to the eighth floor of our hotel, the walls wavering like crepe paper in a wind storm. The air conditioning in the lobby had made me shiver; the lack of air conditioning in the endless hall leading to my room made me sweat like a pig. Maybe I was a pig.

After almost sliding the electronic card key in the wrong room, I lumbered into the right one where my wife and daughter looked at me with a combination of concern -- I apparently had the color of the Creature from the Black Lagoon -- and a little disgust. "You reek of cigar smoke," my wife informed me unnecessarily. Having momentarily collapsed on the bed, I dragged myself into the bathroom, where my reflection in the mirror confirmed that I looked like something that the cat dragged in, ate, vomited up, ate again, and ejected via the other end. I brushed my teeth and, rinsing out my mouth, spit out pieces of the cigar I had chewed off. Yes, classy alright.

                                            ***************

HOLLYWOOD FOOD & GAMES

Your tip sheet for the 2015 Academy Awards, as reported by Deadline Hollywood:

• Appropriate considering today is the 50th anniversary of the creation of the It’s A Small World attraction that has been such a staple of the Disney theme parks, the movie studio has hired Jon Turteltaub to direct a feature based on the venerable family film ride with the catchy tune.  
• Sony Pictures has found what the studio believes will be its next global franchise. The studio has closed a partnership with Mattel and Parkes+MacDonald/Image Nation on a live-action comedy built around Barbie, the top-selling fashion doll. This is no development deal, it’s all moving very quickly.
•  The classic Peeps marshmallow candies could be making the leap from Easter baskets to the big screen via filmmaker Adam Rifkin (Detroit Rock City, Underdog) ... [The concept is a] Lego Movie-esque family epic set the night before a Peeps diorama contest, when a wayward Peep gets misplaced and must adventure through the fantasy lands of different-themed dioramas before the contest’s judging begins. 

 
All this announced in a single, 24-hour period! No wonder L.A. has so many earthquakes -- it's caused by brilliant ideas dropping like bombs on Dresden. If Peeps is as "successful" as Adam Rifkin's two other classics mentioned above, he's going to be the toast of Hollywood, no matter how much he loses for the studio. And you can bet your last Mickey Mouse watch that Disney is trying to figure out a way to cast Johnny Depp in yet another amusement-park ride movie, preferably in a role that calls for wacky make-up, a weird accent, and a $30-million payday.

As for Barbie, well, there's going to be some difficulty finding the right actress for the part. Various studies have said that a real woman with the doll's proportions would be anywhere from 5'9" to 6' tall; weigh 100-110 pounds; and have measurements roughly 39"-18"-33". To which most men would respond, "Sounds good to me!" A spoilsport Yale study, however, put a real-life Barbie at 7'2" with a hefty 23" waist. Since it's unlikely there are any SAG members who fit the bill, the studio might have to go with the real Barbie and Ken, Valeria Lukyanova and Justin Jedlica (right). That is, if plastic-surgery can be considered "real."

Since movie concepts like this are beyond satire -- beyond cynicism -- there's no point in upping the joke quotient. Instead, I might as well jump in with my own take on what might be in store at your multiplex next year.
  

BICYCLE PLAYING CARDS: Tired of being used for children's games like Crazy Eights and War, the Joker King peddles to Las Vegas where he can partake in the high-stakes world of Gin Rummy. But the glamor and excitement soon grow to be too much, especially when his original owners visit the casino, and he remembers it was more fun to be sticky with jelly than wet with Grey Goose. Featuring the voices of Sir Patrick Stewart as the Joker King, Kevin Spacey as the evil casino owner, and Kristin Chenoweth as the angel on the other side of the card. Beyonce performs the love theme, "The Cards are Stacked Against Us."

KELLOGG'S RICE KRISPIES: Tired of a lifetime manufacturing a children's breakfast, our heroes snap, crackle, and pop their way to the chic restaurants in New York's meatpacking district, hoping to create the next hot dish. But when they learn first-hand that fame can be fleeting as smoke from burning olive oil, S, C & P remember that cold cereal warms the hearts of children everywhere. Featuring the voices of Justin Timberlake as Snap, Jim Parsons as Crackle, Jimmy Fallon as Pop, and Tim Roth as the evil chef. Guest appearances by Gordon Ramsey and Nigella Lawson. Tagline: From Cereal Friends to Cereal Killers!

SPINNING TEACUPS: Tired of going around in circles all day long, the Mad Hatter spins his way into the business world by opening a chic new tea-house in Los Angeles in this live-action comedy. But when he learns that fame is as fleeting as a wet teabag, the Mad Hatter realizes that nothing is as soothing as a child's smile. Starring Jim Carrey as the Mad Hatter, Jennifer Lawrence as the wisecracking manager of the tea-house, and Stanley Tucci as the Mad Hatter's evil competitor, Orville Oolong. Featuring Frank Sinatra's classic 1961 recording "When I Take my Sugar to Tea" remixed by Daft Punk.

                                              ********************

BREAKING NEWS: RICH GETTING RICHER

Congressional leaders from both sides of the aisle welcomed news that, while America's middle-class was no longer the richest in the world, the rich were earning higher incomes than ever before.

"It's not the middle-class that creates jobs," said Speaker of the House John Boehner (R-Ohio), "it's the rich. They're the ones who hire accountants, lawyers, chauffeurs, gardeners -- that sort of thing. The middle-class work for a living. Now, the reason they aren't rich is because they're middle-class, and everybody knows the economy hasn't fully recovered, so naturally they aren't getting raises. That's why the rich need to continue to get rich so they can create jobs. And maybe some day, the middle-class can get another dollar or two in their paycheck. In the mean time, it's time for them to do a little belt-tightening and work three jobs. Hell, that should be easy enough -- nobody's working full-time anymore."

Senate Majority leader Harry Reid (D-Nevada) took a different view on the economic report, while still taking the news positively. "The rich are getting richer for a simple reason: my colleagues and I have made sure corporations like GE pay zero dollars in federal taxes thanks to loopholes that a Saturn rocket could fly through. And we do that so they can afford lobbyists to fly us to Cabo San Lucas during the winter. Now, somebody's got to make up for those lost taxes. I mean, can Joe Six-Pack afford to buy us first-class tickets and get us suites in five-star hotels? Let me think," he chuckled. "No, I don't think so."

Talking to reporters after a round of golf on the East Course at Andrews air base, President Barack Obama shrugged his shoulders. "Look, neither I nor my colleagues on the Hill --Democrat or Republican -- had the stomach to pass a simple background check on gun purchases after 20 children were killed at Sandy Hook. You think we're going to take on Wall Street or any of the one per-centers? Take a look at just a few of the Democrats that the Koch Brothers have contributed to over the years. Max Baucus, Dianne Feinstein, Chuck Schumer, my good friends Joe Biden and Hillary Clinton. Hey, even I took $5,500 from them when I was in the Senate. We're not going to stop that gravy train. Nope. Democrats and Republicans alike are going to continue to fool voters into thinking we give a damn about them while we keep getting checks from our masters. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got another Hawaiian vacation to plan."

                                                                    ******************

TELEPHONY

You aren't expected to put up with strangers knocking on your door at all hours of the day -- strangers who run away just as you see who's there. Yet that's exactly the same thing as those annoying robocalls you've probably been getting at home or even on your cell. 

 For me, it started off as a trickle a few years back, before growing into a weekly avalanche. The numbers rise and fall as the yeggs take a break in order to change numbers, but they never quite stop. Just when I think it's over, the calls begin on a daily basis. As fast as I block one, another calls. My Panasonic phone can block only 30 numbers at a time, so I'm forever deleting the old to replace them with the new. Anyone who claims that the federal government can cure any problem need only see what a bang-up job that "National Do Not Call Registry" list is doing. By the way, the organizations exempt from the law are political organizations (there's a shocker!), telephone surveyors (usually involved with politics) and charities (many of which also engage in political lobbying). Let me know if you see a trend. By the way, this rule doesn't stop shady telemarketers who don't fall into those categories. Zen question of the day: Does a law exist if nobody follows it?

It's gotten so I don't answer the phone if it's an unfamiliar number. The phony calls are easy enough to spot -- a number without a name comes up on the handset screen. Then there are others who are legit, but still want my money. One of these is Telefund, an outfit that vacuums up donations for "progressive" non-profit clients. Its lengthy list includes the usual suspects:  EMILY’s List, NARAL Pro-Choice America, various PBS stations, Hillary for President, etc. It's like being on a Korean ferry with a crew consisting of the MSNBC line-up, only you want it to sink.

Telefund's site features a glowing testimonial from Ann Crowley of the Human Rights Campaign. I ask you, what about my human rights to be left alone? I blocked Telefund's number about a month ago, believing that once they got it through their heads that my phone hung up on them after one ring, they'd take me off their to-do list. Not a chance. After about 20 more calls, it was time to take it, as they say, to the next level. Finding their contact information, I shot them an email:  

Dear Telefund, 
 I'm not sure how you acquired my phone number -- [NUMBER REDACTED] -- but in case you haven't noticed, I blocked your calls some time ago. Since your incessant automated calling system still hasn't gotten the message, allow me to explain it in an email.

I'm. Not. Interested. In. Donating. To. You.

You are not only wasting your time, but have guaranteed that I will never give to any of your clients as long as you keep calling me. So you see, your fundraising calls have had the opposite effect intended. Oh, the irony!

 So why not take my phone number off your robocall list? You'll be saving money and time. And maybe a year from now, I'll throw a few bucks to, say, Oxfam America because I want to, not because you want me to.

Either that, or give me the number of your president so I can call him or her at all hours -- then hang up when it goes to voicemail, just like you used to do before I blocked you.

Friendly, right? No curses or threats. Just a simple request, the kind you'd make to your neighbor who likes to play Skrillex at two in the morning. And, to my delight, it appeared to have worked.

For exactly one week. 

Now, did I really expect the calls to stop? Heavens, no. But a guy can dream. And, like most of my dreams, this one was for naught. A follow-up was in order:

Dear Telefund,

Really, Telefund? Really? After I requested -- fairly politely -- that you remove me from your robocall list, you try to get in touch with me again? Even though I told you that your calls were blocked from my number?

Put yourself my shoes (size 9 1/2). Suppose you asked me to stop bothering you and yet I continued to do whatever it was I was doing. Like... oh, calling you for money. If you're anything like me, I'd wager that you'd find me mighty annoying. Rude, even.

If you waste this kind of money, I wonder why your clients trust you to handle their donations. When the folks from, say, "Hillary For President" ask you how much money was donated to their cause this week, do you ask them, "Before or after we pay the bill for useless phone calls?"

So for the second time, I ask you -- no, I tell you, albeit politely -- to please stop calling. When someone hangs up on me, I get the hint. Now it's your turn. 

It probably won't work any better than it did the first time. If I hear from the good people from Telefund this week, further action will be taken. The third time might not be the charm, but I hope it'll be the curse.

                                                   **********************

MOVIE OF THE DAY: "QUICKSAND" (1950)

Is it too soon to admit I usually found Mickey Rooney annoying, too brash by a hundred, and as endearing as surgery without anesthesia? Yes, I know Laurence Olivier -- not always on speaking terms with subtlety himself -- considered Rooney "the greatest actor of them all." Me? Every time I saw a clip of one his MGM musicals, or some variety show, or his legendary, hot-headed interviews -- always veering off-topic to remind us he was once the most popular movie star in the solar system -- I'd find the nearest pillow to crawl under until the moment passed.

On the other hand, there's his performance in Quicksand, one of the most underrated film noirs of its time. Unlike the know-it-alls he was used to playing, his character here, Dan, is a sap from the opening moments of the movie, disparaging the girl who loves him while falling hard for a cashier named Vera, who's obviously one step away from the alley and two from Tehachapi. 

Sure, kid, nobody's gonna notice that
missing double sawbuck.

Quicksand's story is classic film noir -- the kind of move where the "borrowing" of $20 from the office cash register leads to an escalating series of crimes that climax with a carjacking/kidnapping after the boss is strangled. 

And what would drive an honest, hardworking mechanic like Dan into, well, a quicksand of disaster? A bottle-blonde dame who smells of sex and stinks of the gutter. It makes me feel better about myself that, no matter how stupid I was in the past regarding women, it was nothing compared to your typical noir dope.

Dan reflects on what an idiot he is
to go out with this woman.

You know there's going to be trouble when, on their first date, Vera takes Dan to gaze at a window display featuring a fur coat that's been on her radar since forever. Their reflections looking back at them in the window, Vera can't take her eyes off that coat, while Dan wonders just what the heck he's getting himself into. But we know already: a whole mess of mess. Jeanne Cagney (sister of James) portrays the brassy, brazen Vera, who's hard as nails -- and ready to pound them into Dan in order to get what she wants.

For a fun time, visit Nick's penny arcade!

"Sleazy" can't begin to describe the people and surroundings Dan has to put up with. From his perpetually angry, skinflint boss, to the cheap carnival they go to on their first date, to Vera's former(?) lover, Nick, the rodentesque owner of a low-rent arcade. 

And since Nick is played by Peter Lorre, Quicksand's noir factor ratchets up a dozen or so steps. A guy with the charm of dung-covered Black Mamba, Nick orders some noisy little boys out of the arcade -- "or I'll save you all the trouble of growing up." One of my all time favorite actors, Lorre has a rare presence, unique delivery, and the ability to elevate any movie he appears in. It's he who discovers that Dan has mugged a drunk to pay off a debt, but offers to keep his mouth shut if Dan supplies him with a new car. Nice guy! (Their brief, believably sloppy fight scene -- without stunt doubles -- is a highlight.)

"Would you like to spit on me, Danny?
You can, you know."

For reasons she herself can't explain, a good girl named Helen (Barbara Bates) is head over heels in love with Dan. He ignores her, lies to her, dumps her for Vera, winds up committing more crimes in a few days than most criminals do in a lifetime -- and still Helen keeps coming back for more. Maybe because Dan is the only guy she's dated who's smaller than her. Boasting the style of a nursery school teacher, Helen is the total opposite of the icy Vera, whose eyeballs probably have dollar signs in place of pupils. 

Never trust a dame with a fur coat,
stolen money, and a big, fat smirk on her face.

By the time Dan figures out what Vera's all about -- way after everyone in the audience has -- he's up to his boyish blonde hair in trouble. "What kind of a dame are you?" he demands after she's sold him out. "The kind who watches out for herself!" she replies, and, brother, she's not kidding. All she cares about is the cabbage (and I don't mean coleslaw). If it isn't green and ready to fit in her wallet, she ain't interested in what you're carrying, bub. Unless it's a fur coat. 

Jimmie Dodd (left) turns from the camera
so the Mouseketeers don't see him ogling
a tramp like Vera.

Mickey Rooney isn't the only unexpected actor in Quicksand. Dan's co-worker, Buzz, has only one scene at the very beginning of the movie. He'd be completely forgettable if it wasn't for the fact he's played Jimmie Dodd, a few years away from becoming the Mouseketeer godfather on The Mickey Mouse Club. Quicksand offers the rare chance to see Dodd without large, round discs atop his head.

Mickey Rooney made Quicksand as his career was going into eclipse. Ironically, this was the time he gave his best performances in dramatic movies and, occasionally, on TV. (His portrayal in the corrosive title role of "The Comedian", a live episode of Playhouse 90, is an absolute a career highlight -- especially when you know it's based on a combination of the holy terrors Milton Berle and Red Buttons.) Unlike the MGM musicals he's best known for, Quicksand allows Rooney to often shift down into first gear, giving him several wonderfully subtle moments. Watch him dicker with Lorre over the keys to the stolen car in return of the bloodstained handkerchief he used in the mugging -- a scene where, like a couple of others, he resembles Leonardo DiCaprio not only in looks but style. 

Yet, only 30 years old and already on the third of his eight marriages, he appears to know that his major box-office days are already behind him. For Mickey Rooney, Quicksand was more than just a movie. It was his becoming his life.

                                                           ***************

MOVIE OF THE DAY: "THE MAN WHO RECLAIMED HIS HEAD" (1934)

Let's test your knowledge of current events. Who spoke the following passionate words?

"The people must be told who their enemies are. The unseen foe who maneuver nations into war. They must know the duplicity of men who profit from human misery and death. [...] As long as munitions stay in the hands of private enterprises, war will always be around the corner."

Was this the keynote speaker at the Libertarian Party Convention? Sen. Bernie Sanders on the Senate floor? An anonymous protestor outside last year's G8 summit? 

No, no, and no. The correct answer: Claude Rains on a Universal Studios soundstage in 1934. Now do you remember?

Possessing one of the more freakish titles in moviedom, The Man Who Reclaimed His Head is an uncompromising anti-war drama, resonating today as a startlingly contemporary attack on the hellish marriage of corrupt politicians and greedy businessmen who create war purely for their own financial gain. If the "Occupy" movement ever holds a film festival, this should be the closing night attraction. 

Paris, 1916. Paul Verin  has dedicated his life to promoting world peace. Always poor, Verin is given the chance to make money when hired to write anti-war editorials for newspaper publisher Henry Dumont-- editorials for which Dumont takes credit. But as the temptation for political power and monetary riches grows, Dumont eagerly sells out to the munitions manufacturers. 

When Verin is drafted at the outbreak of World War I, Dumont is able to keep him on the front lines, edging him closer to death -- all the while putting the moves on Verin's wife, Adele. Discovering the truth about his former friend, Verin goes AWOL and, in a fit of insanity, turns the movie's metaphoric title into shocking reality. 

Never push a pacifist to the brink.

Told in flashback as Verin confesses to a lawyer, The Man Who Reclaimed His Head is a wonderful showcase for Claude Rains, only his second movie since his star-making turn in The Invisible Man. Blessed with a mellifluous voice and eyes that can register love, loathing or madness when called for, Rains gives his anti-war dialogue, as the one quoted above, a resonance that holds up even better today than it did in 1934. A committed pacifist, Verin proclaims, "Give me a child's mind for the first 12 years of his life and I'll sweep war from the face of the earth." As my daughter can affirm, my goals are a little different. Give me a child's mind and I'll fill it with old movies, unfunny jokes, and the collected writings of Charles Krauthammer. I think we know who'll turn out better.

"At least I'm taller than your husband."

As usual, nobody plays the slick villain like Lionel Atwill as the murderously duplicitous Henry Dumont. Bad enough he uses Adele to guilt-trip her husband in trying to sell out his beliefs for financial gain. Dumont then tries to get Verin killed on the battlefront so he can have his way with her. But what's really shocking is how easily Dumont, an expert at mob psychology, manipulates the idiot masses into following whatever line he happens to be peddling. Call it the Rush Limbaugh Syndrome.

Like Men Must Fight from a year earlier, The Man Who Reclaimed His Head blames cynical power brokers for wars. The difference is, however, here we actually see those madmen plotting their war aboard a luxury liner. One of them, the manufacturer of chemical gas, appears to have second thoughts:

BUSINESSMAN #1: I hate to think of all that blood being spilled. My dear countrymen -- I  wonder just what is the duty of patriotism?
BUSINESSMAN #2: And you're the man who makes liquid fire!
BUSINESSMAN #1: Well, what good is it? The peace conference banned it.
BUSINESSMAN #3: Oh, they'll forget all their silly scruples once the first shot's fired!
  

Chess game of the damned.

Their silly scruples. Things get uglier when we learn that these "patriotic" men are selling weapons to the enemy through a dummy corporation in Switzerland. To their disappointment, they realize this could lead to the destruction of their munitions plants with their own weapons -- and, unfortunately for them, end the war. It's up to Henry Dumont -- who has sold each of them them stock in his publishing company at 5,000 francs a share -- to give some sage advice regarding "a general understanding to conserve all our natural resources." In other words, he explains, corner the market on oil and drive up the price, creating a handsome profit for all concerned. No way this really happens, right?

I first saw The Man Who Reclaimed His Head when it was run as part of a horror movie show on local television. I'd never heard of it, but the title, cast, and year of production certainly sounded promising. Around the 20-minute mark, I realized I was watching something far different than what was promised. As the years passed, I looked out for it again, but it seemed to have disappeared into movie heaven. Only a week ago -- after roughly 40 years -- I discovered it on YouTube. 

Having become more cynically aware to the ways of the world, I was stunned to see how ruthlessly, depressingly honest a movie it was. And although there isn't a werewolf, invisible man or electrically-revived corpse in its 82-minute running time, The Man Who Reclaimed His Head truly is a horror movie -- one that continues to play out in real life every day.

                                                        ******************** 

To read about Men Must Fight, click here.

WARREN'S PIECE (OF THE PIE)

Anyone with cable knows that the news networks are chockful of important things to report. For CNN, it's an airplane that's still missing. For Fox, it's to let you know that despite the Tea Party's best efforts, President Obama hasn't been impeached -- yet. And as for MSNBC... well, they're just propping up the rotting corpse otherwise known as The Ronan Farrow Show.

So you'll excuse them for not finding time to tell you about the latest bold move by America's favorite billionaire, Warren Buffett. As Kentucky's Lexington Herald-Leader reported last week:

Clothing company Fruit of the Loom announced Thursday that it will permanently close its plant in Jamestown and lay off all 600 employees by the end of the year. [...]

State Rep. Jeff Hoover, R-Jamestown, confirmed the plant manager called him Thursday afternoon with the news.

"Terrible sad day for people in Russell County," Hoover said. There was no warning of the plant closing, he said. Layoffs will begin in June.

The company, owned by Warren Buffett's Berkshire Hathaway but headquartered in Bowling Green, said the move is "part of the company's ongoing efforts to align its global supply chain" and will allow the company to better use its existing investments to provide products cheaper and faster. The company said it is moving the plant's textile operations to Honduras to save money.

Naturally the company -- or, rather, Warren Buffett -- needs to save money. I mean, this lousy economy hits everyone, poor and rich alike. Warren Buffett can't be immune, right?

Oh, wait. Let's take a gander at the stock market news as of today (April 10, 2014):

Shares in [Buffett's] investment company Berkshire Hathaway went up 1.7% from yesterday's opening whistle at 12:15 pm to this morning at 9:36 am. That slight change was enough to bump Buffett's net worth up $1.05 billion to $64 billion.

Warren and Jay-Z debate the merits of
raising the minimum wage for their
waitress. The waitress loses.

Hey now! Amazing what a 1.7% bump can do for a fellow. No doubt Buffett's Armand de Brignac Champagne-swilling buddy Jay-Z would approve of such a bold move. Jay-Z did his own share of thinning the herd back in the day when he was dealing smack in what is poetically referred to as the inner city. Still, what's 600 people in a country of 317-million?

"We have about 2,000 manufacturing jobs in Russell County, and this is going to be about a third of them," [said Russell County Judge-Executive Gary Robertson]. "It's going to be devastating to our local economy. Everybody's going to be involved. We in the county will lose revenues. ... We've got a lot of local banks where people who work there have house payments and car payments. It's going to affect everybody in our county and in counties around us."

Payments, shmayments! Warren can't let a measly 600 hard-working Americans get in the way of aligning his global chain, am I right?

In 1998, the company closed its 812-worker plant in Campbellsville, devastating the economy of the south-central Kentucky town; the company offered jobs at the Jamestown factory to 100 of the laid-off workers in Campbellsville.

 OK, so maybe it's a little more than 600 workers who were kicked to the curb over time. But look! Only 712 of those Campbellsville people had to go on the dole. And a quick study of Google Maps tells us there's only about 40 minutes distance between the two towns. That's your average subway commute in New York. (I know, there isn't a subway in Kentucky. But here's a good excuse to build one!) Now, 1998 was 16 years ago, so who the heck knows how many of those 100 transferred workers were still there anyway. I bet they retired to their second homes in Bora-Bora. You can do that when your salary is in the low five figures, can't you?

Still, how do we know that Honduran workers will come any cheaper than Americans? If Haiti is a barometer, I think we already know:

Contractors for Fruit of the Loom, Hanes and Levi’s worked in close concert with the US Embassy when they aggressively moved to block a minimum wage increase for Haitian assembly zone workers, the lowest-paid in the hemisphere, according to secret State Department cables.

Twenty-two cents an hour is quite enough for those ungrateful Haitians, thank you -- even the US embassy agreed! I'm sure our embassy in Honduras will be on the same page.

It's good to know that the Supreme Court was right when it decided that the super-rich aren't a corrupting influence in politics. 

Take a bow, Warren Buffett -- you're putting your $64-billion to good use. Next time you're sharing margaritas with your cousin Jimmy, have one on me. You've earned it the old-fashioned way.

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Read more here: http://www.kentucky.com/2014/04/03/3177378/fruit-of-the-loom-to-close-jamestown.html#storylink=cpy

Read more here: http://www.kentucky.com/2014/04/03/3177378/fruit-of-the-loom-to-close-jamestown.html#storylink=cpyOOK, so maybe it's been a little more than 600 over the years.

MOVIE OF THE DAY: "THE BIG SHAKEDOWN" (1934)

Sporting a title more appropriate for a '50s crime picture, The Big Shakedown asks the question: What happens to the bootleggers now that Prohibition's over? Gangster Dutch Barnes, impressed by pharmacist Jimmy Morrell's way with chemicals at the local drugstore, comes up with the brilliant idea of hiring him to manufacture bootleg toothpaste. Desperate times call for desperate measures -- like coming up with a movie that takes the concept of bootleg toothpaste seriously.
 
Soon, Dutch's goons are strong-arming local druggists to buy their product, just like the good ol' days. But perhaps realizing such a conceit would eventually make him the laughingstock of his fellow criminals, Dutch soon orders Jimmy to whip up cosmetic knock-offs. Naturally, the lipstick-happy dames can't tell the difference. Then, instead of making the logical move to, say, pseudo-Brioschi, Dutch decides to go into the medical-supply business, blackmailing Jimmy into creating bogus antiseptics and, eventually, digitalis -- a dose of which causes Jimmy's unsuspecting wife, Norma, to suffer a miscarriage. The moral of the story: toothpaste is a gateway drug.

She's a good actress, but not good enough
for those Bette Davis eyes to hide her contempt.

You just know that ingenue Bette Davis (Norma) was secretly praying for studio head Jack Warner to keel over with a shot of phony digitalis himself for forcing her into melodramatic hooey like The Big Shakedown, roughly her 20th movie in three years. Still a few years away from being treated like the royalty she always thought herself to be, Davis can't completely mask her disgust with the ridiculous script or her milquetoast leading man, Charles Farrell, the kind of actor she'd happily chew up and spit out before breakfast.

"...And next week I want you to make a vat of
interferon, or else!"

However, the ever-reliable Ricardo Cortez plays Dutch Barnes with his usual oily, clenched-teeth style. A well-dressed sociopath, Barnes has no problem flooding the city's hospitals with phony medicine if it means keeping the money rolling in. As Rand Paul would urge, let the marketplace decide what to do with him. 

"How can I be anti-
Semitic if I'm Jewish?"

Made near the end of the pre-code era, The Big Shakedown has plenty of little moments that would never have made it in a movie a year or two later. A dumpy housewife is humorously portrayed as a cough syrup addict. Sidney Miller, Warners' go-to whiny Jewish kid, is obsessed with keeping track of his money. The scientist who eventually shoots Dutch gets away with it because 1) Dutch stole his formula, and 2) Dutch had it coming. In order to further protect the killer, Jimmy dumps the murder weapon into the same vat of bubbling acid where Dutch's body falls. Very Shakespearean stuff.

One gag probably baffles most contemporary viewers. A mousy middle-aged guy enters Jimmy's store and asks for a druggist. When Bette Davis informs him that she's the druggist, the guy gulps and, thinking fast, asks for a bottle of aspirin. Davis smirks knowingly. Audiences in 1934 would have immediately caught the unspoken subtext: the guy had come in for condoms but didn't want to ask a woman for them. Now you can find them at any bodega next to the Milk Duds. I'm not certain we've made progress.

"And I ain't talkin' soda!"

Most unexpected of all is a line of dialogue spoken by the great Allen Jenkins. When informed that the gang is moving from beer to drugs -- pharmaceuticals, that is -- Jenkins misunderstands. "Not me," he replies. "I got a brother doing twenty years for going into the drug business and all they found on him was two decks of coke." There's nothing better than drug references in old movies. Except maybe sex references.

Bootleg toothpaste, Jewish stereotypes, a murderer getting off scot-free, drug humor, cough syrupholics -- it's just another day on the Warner Brothers lot. If not the best pre-code picture, The Big Shakedown is certainly one of the more entertainingly absurd. On the other hand, the next time you visit New York's Chinatown district, stay away from the exotic-looking toothpastes. Many contain diethylene glycol, a substance usually found in, among other things, heating fuel and brake fluid. As least Jimmy Morrell's stuff cleaned your teeth without killing you.

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BREAKING NEWS: FT. HOOD EDITION

Responding to the latest fatal shooting at Ft. Hood, President Obama announced new action for handling military personnel in need of psychiatric care.

President Obama told reporters, "As has been noted, the gunman, Ivan Lopez, never saw combat during his four month in Iraq. Clearly, this was a man in need of shooting someone. Had he the chance to put his deranged behavior to good use, this tragedy never would have happened at Ft. Hood. Therefore, rather than spending money to give our troops the treatment they need, I am announcing an initiative to keep all soldiers in combat permanently. There's no point in bringing them home when they're only going to cause havoc here."

Noting that the U.S. was withdrawing from Iraq, President Obama said that troops would be sent to other hotspots throughout the world, suggesting, "Lebanon and Pakistan, for instance. East Africa, maybe Nigeria. And let's not forget Ukraine. Hell, there are at least a dozen countries ready to use the kind of government-sanctioned violence that the United States can provide better than anyone else. It's about time we leveled the playing field." 

In addition to the current troop surge, Mr. Obama announced a new initiative for civilians who have been unable to find work. "Those unfortunate people have been pushed to the point of returning to their previous places of employment and shooting up the place. Well, we're going to put that energy to good use by drafting them into combat as well. They want to go postal, let them do it somewhere else."

Responding to a reporter who reminded the president that the U.S. made a point of staying out of Syria and Libya, Mr. Obama bristled. "You ever hear the phrase 'fluid situation'? What I'm telling Americans now -- and I mean it this time -- if you like your endless wars, you can keep your endless wars."

Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) welcomed the president's remarks. "I'm glad that the president has finally taken my counsel seriously. After suffering years of torture by the North Vietnamese, I look forward to seeing other young men going through that same kind of hell in order to come out as bitter, angry, and near-psychotic as me. Nobody wants to be alone, right?"

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BREAKING NEWS: GENERAL MOTORS EDITION

On the heels of yet another massive recall by General Motors, Congress is now demanding to know why the automobile manufacturer took over a decade to publicly admit that its board of directors knew there was a problem with the ignition but refused to fix it.

GM spokesman Brad Lanes told reporters, "From the time that the ignition problem was discovered in 2001 until early this past January, there were four CEO's. By then, despite their best efforts, GM officials knew the shit was going to hit the fan. I mean, 13 preventable deaths if we had spent 57 cents per car to fix the damn thing? Who the hell wanted to cop to that? So it was decided by unanimous decision to name Mary Barra Chief Executive Officer. That way, her male predecessors would be vacationing somewhere in the South Pacific smoking Cuban cigars and drinking mojitos while a woman took the heat. Worked pretty well, too. Glad we kept her out of the loop all that time." 

Asked if this was fair of GM, Lanes replied, "Who said life was fair? Look, women are always bitching about 'glass ceilings' and not getting promoted. Well, here you go, gals, how do you like it?"

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