MEMO FROM THE BOSS

                                Heaven, LLC

         “Where You Go When You’re Good To Go!”

              GOD: PRESIDENT, VICE-PRESIDENT, CEO, CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD

FROM: God
TO: People of Earth 
RE: Miracles

My Chief of Staff, St. Peter, has informed me that another one of you has given me credit for something I didn't do. This time, it was David Brat, who claimed that his win over Eric Cantor in the recent Virginia primary was "a miracle from God."

Even though it should be obvious, I feel compelled to set the record straight, especially to Mr. Brat. Do you really think that in a world where violence, disease, corruption, and madness are rampant, I should choose to show my all-mighty power by being a ward heeler? Talk about using my name in vain. No, Mr. Cantor's loss can be chalked up to  "throwing the bums out." By the way, this isn't just an earthly phenomenon, as Lucifer will testify.

Despite what you've might have heard from pulpits, or read in the National Enquirer or a certain "good book," I don't do miracles any more. Now, that's probably a shock to many of you, but consider: Do you think if I was in the miracle business, you'd be getting junk mail every week from charities begging for money to help children with cleft palates? Or junk mail, period?

I got out of the miracle business a long time ago (by your earth years) after a bunch of self-styled holy ghostwriters first published my alleged autobiography. Just to back up, I really was responsible for some doozies. I mean, it doesn't get much more miracle than a virgin birth, although I'm still proud of that Red Sea stunt. (Today, they'd probably call it "further proof of global warming," LOL!) But once you believed that I was really as petty and mean-spirited as those writers made me out to be, I washed my hands of you. For the love of me, think!

For example, I created the world in less than a week, right? So why would I be so petty as to condemn the wearing of mixed fabrics? I admit, wool and linen seems to be a weird combo, but who do I look like, Tim Gunn? (Well, maybe a little.) You want to eat shellfish, pork, or any animal with cloven hooves? To quote my favorite pope, who am I to judge? You wouldn't believe what kind of stuff I get a craving for. Fortunately, calories don't mean much when you're an almighty kind of a guy. And yes, for the zillionth time, I'm a man. Women only think they're God. (Like me, that joke never gets old!)

I mean, look at all the things I could have stopped if I were still in the miracle business. Wars. Pestilence. Disease. Yoko Ono. But I'm going to pull strings for politicians? Or sports teams? Your kid's beauty pageant? Wake up, people! If I really did everything you wanted, nobody would die, you'd all have your dream job, be a billionaire, never age, and have hot sex 24/7.  You might as well hear it now: it ain't happening. As the song says, that's life. 

Oh, sometimes I do what I call "reverse miracles," just to mess with you. Did you know that Adam Sandler has lived five years longer (so far) than Ernie Kovacks did? You can thank me! Martin Scorsese losing the Oscar to Robert Redford and Kevin Costner? Let me take a bow.  

To reiterate: I have nothing to do with your joys and sorrows, wins and losses. Like Dr. Oz, I don't do endorsements. Now, If you want to thank me for the good stuff, I can't stop you, but you're wasting your breath. You see, I'm just a spectator. Talk about guilty pleasures -- forget Duck Dynasty or the Kardashians, you're the biggest reality show in town. 

God

 God


PS: Speaking of reverse miracles, wait 'til you get a load of what I've got planned for the USA/Germany match at the World Cup tomorrow!

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

BREAKING NEWS: IRAQ EDITION

President Obama revealed yesterday that he was sending 300 advisers to Iraq to help push back the ISIS rebel forces. The announcement came after 1:30 PM EST, over an hour later than its original scheduled time. The Ol' Fish-Eye has learned exclusively that the reason for the delay was a disagreement about which speech Mr. Obama was to give. The original speech, as written by the president, is as follows:

Good afternoon. As you know by now, the situation in Iraq is grim and getting worse.  But let me tell you something that you haven't heard: nobody can do a goddamn thing about it. These folks have been at each other's throats for at least 700 years, and have no interest in smoking the peace hookah now or in the future. 

Let me tell you about this whole Sunni and Shia kerfuffle. After Mohammed died, one side wanted his son to take over Islam, while the other side preferred the son-in-law. In other words, it's all a family fight. Have you ever tried to settle a family fight? Forget it, they positively wallow in this shit. They thrive on hating each other, no matter what the outcome or who gets hurt. In fact, the only people they hate more than each other are outsiders who try to get them to hash things out peacefully. So I'm announcing today that we're pulling all our troops from the Mideast, and letting those sheiks of Araby kill each other, which is all they've wanted to do anyway.

Now you might remember everybody got all upset about a similar situation in the Sudan, with millions of innocent people slaughtered by rebels. But it's still going on, and nobody's lifting a finger to stop the killing. "Why?" you ask? It comes down to one word that rhymes with "boil." Get the picture? If those godforsaken Sudanese lived on land where Exxon could set up shop, we'd have been over there faster than you can say, "Fill 'er up." Why do you think Europe didn't say "boo" when Russia invaded Crimea? 'Cause Vladmir Putin is their number one gas jockey!

So here's what I'm proposing -- no, ordering. I'm going to take all that money we were going to flush down the Baghdad toilet and put it into research to make sure that we will never be energy-dependent on anyone else. That means Republicans will have to get used to the idea of wind farms dotting the fruited plain, and solar panels on all houses, apartment buildings -- hell, every structure that has at least four walls and a floor. And I know you don't like electric cars, but too bad. People didn't want to switch from horses to cars for a while, either -- and those were electric, too. And to all you swaggering conservatives who like to ride your "hogs," even Harley-Davidson is going to start manufacturing electric choppers. Not only are they clean, they're quiet, so they won't set off every car alarm in the neighborhood when you show everybody how tough you are. Even though you used every deferment in the book to dodge the serving in the military.

Now before you Democrats start feeling smug, well, you better wipe that stupid smirk off your faces. I'm giving the OK to that Keystone Pipeline you've been so afraid of the last five years. Yeah, I know you've made a lot of money -- excuse me, received a lot of political contributions -- from fighting it. But you're going to have to find another  boogeyman to keep your job. And you might as well know now, it's not going to be fracking, either. I'm giving the all-clear on any company that wants to frack on whatever private land they want. As long as they offer fair compensation, they can frack 'til they're blue in the face. Because you and I both know, it's cooler to be photographed with Robert Redford than some dirty guy in the fields just trying to make enough money to support a family. 

Before I go, I'd like to address my colleagues who have been giving me advice on every program from Morning Joe to the evening news. Democrats: you can make the case that this is all President Bush's fault, and you're right. But you know what? That was over a decade ago. You're getting to be as bad as the Sunnis here. Because nobody outside of Rachel Maddow cares anymore -- they just want us out. And Republicans: you've had two presidential elections to prove you were smarter than the average bear, and you lost. But, hey, you think you can do better right now? If I could, I'd be happy to give you the keys to the car. You have no idea the pressure that comes with this job. I mean, I know how I've aged the last six years. Every time my kids come home from school, they say, "Hi, Grandpa!" Sure it was funny the first 50 times, but it's getting a little tired.

And allow me a shout-out to two men in particular. First, Dick Cheney -- at least show the same class your old boss President Bush has and keep your mouth shut. And John McCain -- thank you for your service in that other military nightmare of Vietnam. But if you think you're so smart -- well, remember, you were the one who chose Sarah Palin as your running mate. 

And to you talking heads on the news programs, who have zero idea on the kind of intel I get every morning, yet who insist on giving me your unwanted advice -- have you looked at the latest Gallup poll regarding the public's opinion of you? You're right up there with pedophiles and people who eat shit for a living. So just keep flapping your gums, see how far it gets you.

For those who are concerned that an ISIS-controlled Iraq means another terrorist strike on U.S. soil -- hey, terrorists had no problem hitting us when bin-Laden, Hussein and Gaddafi were running things. But I understand your fears. That's why I'm putting all Arab countries on notice. If there's another attack on America, I'm going to the situation room, where we've got a big map on the wall. I'm going to face the Mideast portion, close my eyes and throw a dart. Wherever it lands, we're going to drop the big one. That means you're responsible for keeping those guys in line for a change. We don't care what you do with them. Hell, our black-ops specialists can give you advice if you'd like. You can go all Kim Jong-Un, and feed 'em to the dogs for all I care. Just don't make us come back there, because I promise it will be the last time. In fact, I'm going to include Pakistan as well, because would anybody miss them if they suddenly went up in a mushroom cloud? I didn't think so.

Thank you, and God bless the United States. Now somebody get me a cigarette.

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

BREAKING NEWS: WASHINGTON REDSKINS EDITION

As controversy continued to grow regarding the Washington Redskins, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-NV) announced he would not attend any of their games until owner Daniel Snyder stopped using "a racial slur" as their name. He was also one of 50 senators who signed a petition urging Snyder to drop the name immediately.

When a reporter asked Reid why he was only now urging the team, which has been playing since 1937, to change its name, the senator replied, "I had no idea 'Redskins' was a racist word. I was under the impression that it referred to potatoes. I like potato skins on my fries, so naturally that was the first thing that came to mind. Once I found out the truth, I was shocked as anybody, as were my colleagues. My good friend Chuck Schumer of New York thought it meant sunburns. My friend Maria Cantwell, the Senator from Washington, always heard it as 'Ruxpin' -- you know, like Teddy Ruxpin, the talking teddy bear. I guess she gave one to her niece or something. So we were stunned, let me tell you, to learn the truth." 

Asked how all of that could be possible when the Redskins' logo was the image of a Native American, Reid said, "My good friend Angus King, the Senator from the fine state of Maine, thought it was a caricature of a bird, with the feathers and everything. Now, my good friend Bernie Sanders from Vermont, on the other hand, honestly believed it was a Socialist symbol -- a red man, get it? -- so you can bet he had no problem with it. The rest of us were too busy doing the people's work to notice. Yet we made sure, once the truth was made known to us, to put everything else aside -- the V.A. scandal, the Iraqi crisis, Russia providing arms to Ukrainian rebels, schools being shot up every week -- in order to tackle this problem. I wish we could sign petitions for everything; it would make our job a lot easier."

In related news, the U.S. Patent Office cancelled the Redskins' trademark due to it being "disparaging" to Native Americans. A source close to Redskins' management admitted they were considering other names that would "reflect the city's image." Those names included the Lobbyists, the Crooks, the Hypocrites, the Job-For-Lifers, and the Good-For-Nothings. 

The unnamed source added that the name Congressmen is in the running as well, since, like pro football players, they work only four months a year.

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

SHOCK THE MONKEYS

Shockwave.

It has a nice sound to it. You can almost feel it beneath your feet, traveling up your spine, spreading into your bones. Shockwave. The ground trembles at the very word.

I mean, I guess so. Not even the strongest earthquake causes as many shockwaves as something that upsets the federal government's status quo, if journalists are to be believed.

OK, Eddie, I won't.

The latest shockwave happened when House Republican Leader Eric Cantor lost the primary election. Googling "cantor shockwave washington" brings up over 23-million hits. (You can accuse reporters of a lot of things, but originality isn't one of them.) Cantor's loss also allowed reporters to use the word "unprecedented" like they were being paid by the syllable. Cantor's unprecedented loss sent shockwaves through Washington. I felt shockwaves when I initially misheard the reports. Eddie Cantor lost an election? I thought he was dead.

So what doesn't send shockwaves through Washington?

• Twenty children killed at Sandy Hook.
• An average of one school shooting a week since Sandy Hook.
• Over 31,000 gun deaths in America last year.
• Over 36,000 American soldiers killed or wounded in order to have Iraq taken over by terrorists.
• One veteran committing suicide every 65 minutes.
• Veterans making up close to 25% of the homeless.
• One in 45 children in America being homeless.
• Twenty percent of households with no one able to get work.
• Part-time, minimum wage jobs becoming the norm.
• Nearly 50% of the unemployed giving up looking for work.

Eric Cantor losing his job? Shockwave.

Don't worry, Eric. You'll line up a cushy gig or two, probably on K Street or Fox News, at several times your current salary. You won't be one of the homeless or unemployed or murdered. You'll just be one of the very few of the major players in Congress who got on the wrong side of the electorate. 

In a way, you'll belong to a very exclusive club. Because by the time that the next boldfaced DC name loses his job, there will be dozens more schools shot up, thousands more veterans committing suicide, countless more jobs lost. 

But when that boldfaced-name goes belly-up at the voting booth... shockwave.

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

IN GEAR, OUT OF STEP

Mayor Bill de Blasio’s plan to reduce traffic accidents is commendable, even if its name, “Vision Zero,” sounds like a cheesy 1980s sci-fi movie you’d see on the Starz network at two in the morning. The solutions he offers, including speed bumps, creating 20 mile-per-hour zones, and promoting bicycle safety, are vital to a populous city like New York.  However, speaking as a law-abiding biker, I wish pedestrians would take some responsibility for themselves as well, because an awful lot of them seem to be afflicted with, well, zero vision. 

I regularly ride throughout Manhattan, and cannot keep track of the number of idiots who step blindly off the curb and into the bicycle lanes. It’s as if they believe that by engaging in the original means of transportation, they’re entitled to play by their own set of traffic rules. Others will take the time to look, but only in the direction opposite of where the bikers are coming from. What possible explanation is there for such odd behavior? They can’t all be confused British tourists.

Many of these nitwits will up the danger ante by staring down at their smartphones. I never realized there were so many New Yorkers who are apparently so important, they’re willing to put their lives at risk in order not to miss a single message, text or tweet. It’s bad enough when they block foot traffic on the sidewalk to read about the OMG best grande latte a friend just drank. But stepping into a lane against the light when bikers have the right of way? That better be some grande latte, alright.

I hate to say he had it coming...
Actually, I don't.

Then there are the boneheads who enjoy a leisurely stroll on the bike paths themselves. The sidewalk can be completely empty, yet they make the deliberate choice of walking on a lane meant specifically for moving vehicles. Are they under the impression that walking along a green path makes them more earth-friendly? Do they consider themselves too good to join the hoi-polloi on the more mundane sidewalk? Or are they afraid of getting crushed by a piano falling out of a window?  Sometimes they’ll walk in the street when a bike path isn’t available. If this isn’t cause enough to hospitalize them for being a threat to themselves and others, I don’t know what is.

When encountering these tunnel visioned-impaired folks, I often give a warning ring of my bell and a "friendly" shout of, “Wake up!” (That, by the way, is dependent on their sex, age, race, and whether they can chase me down and kick my ass.) Some of them let out a stunned gasp, as if suddenly remembering they aren’t alone in the big city. Others react angrily, like it’s my fault they’re putting their lives at risk by walking into traffic. But at least they can hear me. Many of these bozos close themselves away from the world by listening to music blasting through their souped-up headphones. Doctors warn that this habit can cause deafness. From my vantage point – from behind bicycle handlebars -- that’s the least of music fans’ problems. 

No matter where he rides,
it's the wrong lane.

Now, I’m the first to admit that many of my fellow bikers could use a refresher course in traffic safety. (I’m talking to you, Alec Baldwin.) In fact, I was actually happy to read  police were cracking down on scofflaw bikers. But this doesn’t excuse pedestrians, who far outnumber bikers, from following the rule they were supposed to have learned in kindergarten: look both ways before crossing the street. 

According to the New York Department of Transportation, commuter cycling has more than doubled in the last decade. Between commuters using Citi Bikes and those of us who ride our own, our numbers are growing and we aren’t going away -- no matter how many times Mr. Baldwin promises to move.

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

TIMES AND TIMES AGAIN

The New York Times is known for many qualities -- a rigid point of view, massive ego, a yearning to return to the good old days before the internet -- but irony is not among them. It came as no surprise, then, when this headline appeared in the Newspaper of Record® over the weekend:

  
 Sharpton Warns Against Race-Baiting in New York Contest

Now, the New York Post would have run a snarkier (read: more truthful) headline, perhaps one including some of the reverend's greatest hits: "Diamond merchant," "cracker," "Chinaman," and "homos" would have been a pretty good start. But again, the Times, being the Newspaper of Record®, is compelled to present the story straight -- or, rather, with a straight face.

A quick look through the Times' archive presents similar headlines from its illustrious history:

Christopher Columbus Warns Against Infecting Indians with Smallpox

Marie Antoinette Warns Against Irritating French Peasants 

Lenin Warns Against Violence Against Tsar's Family

Hitler Warns Against Becoming Most Unpopular Government in History

Beatles Warn Against Knocking Elvis Off the Pop Charts

Nixon Warns Against Unethical Campaign Tactics

Pres. Clinton Warns Against Marital Infedility

NRA Warns Against Excessive Gun Purchases

Kim Jong-Un Warns Against Creating Culture of Personality

Ronan Farrow Warns Against Inexperienced Journalists

New York Times Warns Against Sexism in the Workplace



But I'm being unfair to the Times, I suppose. Perhaps unfairly unfair, even. While wrapping up this piece, I found a fascinating headline on today's Gallup Poll site:

In U.S., Depression Rates Higher for Long-Term Unemployed

They needed to take a poll to figure this out. Thanks, guys.

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

BREAKING NEWS: GENERAL MOTORS EDITION

General Motors has announced the findings of General Motors investigating General Motors. Mary Barra, the president of General Motors, revealed that General Motors had nothing to fear from General Motors.

"After literally days of digging through filing cabinets, picking peoples' brains, and making professional guesswork, our lawyers have decided that nobody at General Motors covered up the faulty ignition switch that led to the deaths of anywhere from 13 to 74 loyal General Motors customers," Ms. Barra told reporters. "Despite what press reports would have you believe, not one employee ever tried to hide the lazy, thoughtless, and ultimately fatal decisions our management team played in this matter. It was, in fact, all above board and approved by those in the know."

Responding to a question regarding GM's ultimate culpability for the faulty mechanism itself, Ms. Barra said, "If you're going to play that game, then let's the government in here as well. We received $10-billion in government loans, right? Now let's say you send your kid to college and he sets the dorm on fire. You'd probably be on the hook for that. Well, this is the same sort of situation. You're foolish enough to loan anybody $10-billion, you've got to expect something's going to go haywire."

 Ms. Barra went on to explain that 15 GM employees had been fired over the incident. "But we have it on good authority that they're going to land on their feet at some other car manufacturer like nothing ever happened, so shed no tears for them." Five other employees, she added, will be disciplined. "We are taking away their coffee break privileges, not for a week or a month, but the entire next quarter. There has to be a price to pay for creating a situation that would've resulted in manslaughter charges anywhere else. I know we can't bring back those who have been killed by our negligence, greed, and morally bankrupt work ethics, but I hope this action brings some kind of closure to the survivors." 

Ms. Barra added that those surviving family members will be offered a $100 gift card good toward the purchase of any GM product. "It's the least we can, and will, do."

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

MOVIES OF THE DAY: "POP GEAR" (1965) and "HAVING A WILD WEEKEND" (1965)

Other than two live concert numbers by the Beatles (lifted from the 1963 short The Beatles Come to Town), Pop Gear consists of nothing but lip-synched performances by over a dozen, mostly forgotten musical acts playing their records that charted in the UK. Only a handful were ever released in America, and for very good reason. Most of the music presented here ranges from bland, mainstream, over-produced pop to bland, mainstream, over-produced pop-rock. Not that you can tell the difference. If nothing else, Pop Gear should put to rest the myth that the 1960s British music scene was the swingingest in the world.

God almighty, what an idiot.

Just as every band west of the Rockies wanted to be the next Beach Boys, so did every band within a thousand-mile radius of Liverpool strive to make it big by wearing collarless jackets, skinny ties, and "mod" haircuts. Talent? What's that? And so Pop Gear offers us, without shame, Tommy Quickly singing "Humpty Dumpty" while grinning like a mental ward patient on an all-night masturbation jag. Yes, "Humpty Dumpty" the nursery rhyme. In 1965. The year that the Beatles recorded "Norwegian Wood." Now, to be fair, most of the songs in Pop Gear were originally released in 1964 -- the year the Beatles recorded "Things We Said Today." Get the picture?

Got to get you off the stage.

And speaking of the Beatles, the instrumental band Sounds Incorporated promised to be of mild interest, having provided the backing tracks for "Got to Get You into my Life" and "Savoy Truffle." So they must have some kind of cool factor, right? Sure -- until they play their big number, the "William Tell Overture." Had Rossini heard his piece arranged for three bellowing saxophones, he'd have asked Tell to shoot an arrow through his head.

Perhaps rightly thinking that performers standing in one place could make Pop Gear even more unwatchable, the director wrongly told each of them to walk around in circles for three minutes, to the obvious embarrassment of those who were more self-aware. Did you ever think Herman's Hermits would ever be described as self-aware? Me neither.

This is rock & roll?

Forgive me for not going into further detail, but I admit to fast-forwarding through most of Pop Gear, the majority the bands being entirely interchangeable and utterly forgettable. American audiences (who saw it under the title Go Go Mania) must have been baffled by the line-up. For every Peter & Gordon, Animals, and Herman's Hermits, there's Billie Davies, the Rockin' Berries, the Fourmost, Four Pennies, the San Remo Four (there must have been a law requiring audiences to know how many people were in the band), and others who were completely unknown over here. Too, what were they to make of dancers "interpreting"  terrible pop instrumentals by artless studio musicians trying desperately to imitate the Mersey sound, or the crooning of Matt Munro, the UK's answer to Vic Damone?

No, there's nothing skeevy about this guy.

The whole shebang is hosted by Jimmy Savile of the UK's legendary music series Top of the Pops. Resembling Marty Feldman after semi-successful corrective eye surgery, Savile was the kind of wacky personality who was popular with all ages. That came crashing down after his death when an investigation showed him to have been a major player in a pedophile ring that operated out of the BBC for decades. When you're aware of that piece of the story, there's something unsettling about how he anticipates Pop Gear's first number, "Little Children." Seriously.

The Dave Clark 5's pretentious Having a Wild Weekend (released as Catch Us if You Can in its original UK release) must have been a little bizarre to US teens as well. The opening scene promises a combination of A Hard Day's Night (black-and-white cinematography) and Help! (zany friends living together in a zany house). But once Dave Clark is addressed as "Steve," you learn these guys aren't playing themselves, but, rather, stuntmen currently appearing in an ad campaign for the meat council. Steve doesn't dig the job (he's just a piece of meat, get it?), but he seems to fancy the commercial's star, Dinah. She and Steve jump in an MG and escape to the real world, with the other four, and the director of the ad campaign, on their trail.

Unlike the Beatles' movies, Having a Wild Weekend isn't a showcase for a band. No, this is Dave Clark's project all the way. He and Dinah (played by Barbara Ferris) are supposed to be symbols of the freethinking younger generation, but their pseudo-philosophical ramblings are pretty much what you'd expect a couple of budding 23 year-old Rambauds to babble while on holiday (as the Brits say). Director John Boorman pads out the couple's getaway with endless scenery shots while Dave Clark 5 songs bash away on the soundtrack. It's kind of like playing a record while watching artsy home movies. As I think of it, Having a Wild Weekend is an attempt at what was referred to as  "kitchen sink drama," only after a good scrubbing of Ajax. (Boorman would later polish his C.V. by directing Point Blank and Deliverance.)

As boring as she is pretty.

Likewise.

Ironically for a former actor, Dave Clark himself is the least engaging member of the band, blessed as he is with an acting style consisting of squinting, scowling, and squinting and scowling. The looker of the bunch, Dave is given plenty of soulful James Dean-ish close-ups, but appears to suffer from constipation. Co-star Barbara Ferris, is cute -- I'm always a sucker for that '60s blonde go-go girl hairdo -- but is appealing as a stick of butter that's been out during a heatwave. These two specious bores are actually perfect for each other, but Dave (or Steve, whatever you want to call him) wants more out of life than ad campaigns for meat; he's looking for the meaning of life by moving to Spain... and becoming a skindiving instructor. What?

Dave Clark leaves Barbara Ferris
to fend for herself.

Written by Dave Clark and bandmate Lenny Davidson, Having a Wild Weekend seems to be deliberately playing to the critics. A subplot featuring the cynical ad agency probably flew right over the heads of the barely-out-of-rompers audience. During their weekend adventure, Steve and Dinah crash a proto-hippie commune, whose equally-turgid denizens are looking for marijuana and heroin. You almost want to applaud when they're all suddenly driven out by army tanks firing live shells at them (Occupy Cotswold!) for no reason other than Dave and Lenny's script wanting to make a statement. Whether the statement is anti-military or anti-hippie, well, you'll have to ask them. 

A later segment featuring Steve and Dinah spending an afternoon with a bored suburban couple, Guy and Nan, seems to be lifted from another movie entirely. While the sexually-frustrated Nan puts the moves on Steve, the clueless Guy tries seducing Dinah via his collection of pop culture memorabilia. (That hit a little too close to home for comfort.) Guy is an unhappy man, baffled by the strange world of 1965, wanting nothing more than to escape to an earlier, simpler time, away from the wife who offers him nothing but contempt. It's a strange, biting scene -- the film's best, in fact, thanks to Robin Bailey's exquisitely sad portrayal of Guy -- but one that makes you wonder, What's this doing here?

"Who are these four guys in the car with me?"

Dave's bandmates don't get to indulge in any of this stuff -- they're strictly supporting players, with little individual characterization, other than Rick Huxley trying to eat inedible objects. Although sharing an authentic camaraderie, they lack the Beatles' natural charisma and wit. Too, the muddy audiotrack and their thicker-than-blood-pudding accents often muffle what little dialogue they have. 
 
Having a Wild Weekend actually plays better the second time around, when you know to expect, but its drawbacks persist. The main problem is its dichotomy. It wants to be taken seriously as a message movie -- but it stars the Dave Clark 5! There's talk of drugs and sex -- but it stars the Dave Clark 5! It exposes the media's manipulation of society -- but it stars the Dave Clark 5! The nervous taglines on the movie's American posters warned it was "the year's big dramatic surprise! Watch it make the 10-Best lists!" Clearly, Dave and his mates were going for something other than just another teen idol comedy, and are to be commended for their effort.  But did screaming teenyboppers in the audience really give a shit about drama and 10-best lists? Give us "Bits and Pieces!" 

                                                    ***********
TCM recently ran a beautifully restored Technicolor, letterbox print of Pop Gear. Unfortunately, all I could find on YouTube was this washed-out, non-widescreen clip of its horrid finale from a subtitled, second generation Japanese video:

BREAKING NEWS: CNN EDITION

Champagne bottles were popped and high-fives exchanged in Atlanta when the Nielsen ratings service announced that CNN had reached its lowest viewership in 14 years.

"This is what were aiming for," said CNN spokesman Brad Lanes. "After decades of being the number one news network, we knew it was unsustainable. There was too much pressure to stay at the top of our game, of being the most trusted news source on television. Our early on-air team, made up of pros like Bernard Shaw and Peter Arnett, was great, don't get me wrong. They showed that there was a need for news 24 hours a day, seven days a week. But that was when we had something to prove. Now? The only thing we need to prove is that we don't care!"


When asked what the reason was CNN's for decline, Lanes was quick to answer. "Two words: Jeff Zucker. This was the guy, remember, who was named the president of NBC Entertainment just because he made the Today show number one. That's like electing Tom Hanel president of the United States because he's Mayor of Billings, Montana. 'Failing upward," I think they call it."
 
Lanes went on to explain Zucker's game plan. "When Jeff took over NBC, his mantra was 'profits over respectability.' That meant reality programming, game shows, and Jay Leno at ten o'clock.  Month after month, year after year, you think they'd hit bottom. But no, they kept falling to depths never seen in television history. Zucker took NBC from number one to number five. Nobody even knew there were five networks until Jeff took the helm, That's when we thought, 'We gotta get him while he's still hot.'"

Pausing to read a congratulatory text from CNN.com's vice-president Kenneth "KC" Estenson, Lanes continued, "When Jeff arrived here, the first thing we said, 'We can't keep up the good work. Show us what you've got.'  We were already feeling the heat from Fox and MSNBC, but we needed to go the NBC route -- become total laughingstocks of the industry. And in no time, he worked his magic.  First, he shoved Piers Morgan down America's throat like the guy was Winston Churchill. Then he created a new morning show for Andrew Cuomo's dimwitted brother. After that, he signed Morgan Spurlock, the guy who was famous for throwing up a Big Mac in a movie. So far, so good. But he had to get further from what was considered news. So now he pays Anthony Bourdain to eat at restaurants in Laos, and -- this is the beauty part -- he runs movies during primetime when it used to be news! And documentaries where Sally Field talks about the 1960s because she played the Flying Nun!"

Lanes shook his head, a smile playing around his lips. "All we've got to do is get rid of Wolf Blitzer, and we'll be completely devoid of real journalists. Bottom of the barrel, here we come!"

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MOVIE OF THE DAY: "DANTE'S INFERNO" (1935)

OK, so maybe Spencer Tracy shot his classic movies at MGM. Anybody can do that, right? I'm more interested in his apprentice work during his early days at the Fox studio. You can keep those confections he made with Katherine Hepburn. I'll take Tracy as the wisecracking cop in Me and My Gal; the homeless man who knocks up Loretta Young in Man's Castle; and as the ill-fated tycoon in The Power and the Glory (a virtual blueprint for Citizen Kane, made eight years later) -- the kind of pre-code movies from a scrappy studio interested in simply pleasing an audience while occasionally striving for greatness. 

Tracy's final Fox feature, Dante's Inferno, is the weirdest of Tracy's entire career, and certainly wilder than anything else he made until It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World in 1963.

Don't let the title fool you. Dante's Inferno tells the story of Jim Carter, a sociopathic Walt Disney-wannabe who steps on, swindles or ruins anyone in his path in order to build an unrivaled entertainment empire, starting with the Dante's Inferno amusement park attraction. 

With the help of his assistant Jonsey, Carter reaches the pinnacle of success with the purchase of a gambling ship, the S.S. Paradise. When a strike threatens to delay the Paradise's maiden voyage, Carter goes against the captain's advice and hires a shipful of inexperienced workers. The formula is complete: Drunk passengers + drunker scabs x a large flambé served too close to the inflammable drapes = inferno on the high seas. Moral: desserts kill.

I'd take my kid to this over "It's a Small World."

Judging by the impressive sets, Fox must have considered Dante's Inferno its big release of 1935. The cost for the construction of the Inferno spook house alone must have equaled that of a short subject. The grand opening of the Inferno, by the way, is spoiled somewhat when one of Carter's swindled victims jumps from the top floor into a shallow man-made lake. Now that's entertainment!

Tracy pays close attention to Pop McWade's
request to call the safety inspector.

The hell motif is present right from the beginning, when we see a ship's boiler room from the perspective of the coal oven, and builds as Carter's star rises (or sinks into a morass, depending on your point of view). And yet Carter himself is actually an excellent husband and father. 

Well, until his wife feels obliged to commit perjury regarding his bribe of a safety inspector -- a pay-off which led the Inferno to collapse on hundreds of innocent people, including his wife's uncle, Pop McWade. (I guess Uncle McWade was little too wordy.) The safety inspector, realizing the collapse could have been prevented, commits suicide. Doesn't anyone see a pattern emerging in dealing with this Carter guy?

Some entrepreneur could make a fortune if he
built a members-only club that looked like this.

Pop McWade, having somehow survived a five-story building crashing all around him, warns Carter of his descent into immorality by reading aloud Dante's epic poem, setting up the movie's raison d'etre: a bizarre, disturbing (in a way only old movies can be) ten minute recreation of hell, featuring 3,000 of the best looking, near-naked damned souls you've ever seen, climaxing with them jumping into a lake of fire like Olympic champions. 

It was a trick Cecil B. DeMille mastered in his biblical epics: make the audience feel better about enjoying sin by presenting it as a morality tale. Six hours of footage were shot for Dante's Inferno and I bet half of that went to this scene alone. That's a hell of a lot of hell, equal only to the last three Adam Sandler movies combined. 

Don't mess with Spence.

Even competing with enough melodrama for a dozen movies, there's a naturalism about Spencer Tracy rare for his time. His Jekyll-Hyde portrayal of the good family man/evil entrepreneur makes his Carter that much more complex than it has any right to be. 

Yet his best moment happens without any dialogue at all. Discovering that his son has been brought on the gambling ship without his permission, Carter shoots Jonsey a look that rivals the entire Inferno scene for sheer intensity.

Tracy warms up for a chorus of
"My Mammy."

It could be Tracy was just angry at starring in Dante's Inferno, believing it one of the worst movies ever made, and going so far as to prevent Fox from using his name on any of the promotional materials, at least in America. (He was most likely appalled, too, by his brief blackface scene early on.) 

But perhaps there was something else going on. Tracy was never as close to his own son the way Carter is, and his marriage was on its way to being in name only, thanks to, among other things, falling deeply in love with his Man's Castle co-star, 22 year-old Loretta Young. 

A Jesuit school graduate, Tracy felt that his son being born deaf was God's punishment for his own laundry list of transgressions -- adultery, alcoholism, choosing show business over the priesthood, and his alleged bisexuality, to name a few. 

Today’s audiences would respond to all of that with, “What else you got?” But Tracy himself might have felt he shared all of Carter’s bad traits without any of the good. Had he seen his image in the Spanish release of Dante's Inferno (the title of which translated to Satan's Ship), he might have thought he was staring into a particularly penetrating mirror.  No way is Dante's Inferno the worst movie ever made. But when one looks at it with Tracy's own life in mind, it's probably his most fascinating.

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