So Much Fun, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                      My PCP (yes, Primary Care Physician) has been recommending me Jo Nesbo's novels over the years, and, after reading "The Snowman," which I am seeing tomorrow as a movie, I am sorry I did not listen to him, sooner.

                                       I was no naïve I thought Nesbo was a woman, (Remember Jo March, in "Little Women?"  And Katherine Hepburn playing her, in George Cukor's still definitive 1933 version?) and I had no idea the stories are set in Norway.  At least, "The Snowman" was.  And, for the record, before some yokels out there start cracking some vulgar jokes, the surname of the lead character, detective Harry Hole, is pronounced "holy," not the way one would first think.

                                      "The Snowman" is a nice, relaxing, for me, serial killer type story, that covers all the bases, in a compelling, can't-take-your-eyes-from-the-page way. I sort of understood the killer's trauma and motive, but, honestly, wouldn't charity work have been a better solution to the problem?  It worked wonders, in Dickens' day.

                                         That said, the book is fascinating, and I look forward to reading more of Nesbo.  I do think there were a few overdone red herrings, and that the story might have been shortened by about thirty pages, but I understood the author's reasoning, as my desire to get at the answer to things, kept ratcheting up by his splendid skill at building suspense.  And that is what it is all about.

                                           Now, "The Snowman" opens in movies, tomorrow.  I will see it, but the word is already out that if one has read the book, one is going to be disappointed.  And with such an A-list cast, too.  Chloe Sevigny will be worth it.

                                            The actor playing the killer I never heard of, so who knows how he will be?  Or if he will get the required screen time needed.  One thing I can almost guarantee. On the printed page, where it works best, a lot of emphasis is put on medical science, immunology, and rare, inherited diseases.  Reading this book almost compensates for not having taken Advanced Placement Biology.  It will make one feel they have.  But a lot has to be processed and understood.  Movies do not have the time for that. Nor do standard, mainstream audiences have the intellectual capacity to understand it.

                                               So, I am approaching this movie now, with relatively jaundiced eyes.   If I turn out to be surprised, so much the better.

                                                 But, really, when it comes to snowmen, darlings, stick to "Meet Me In St. Louis!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

This Movie Did Not Take Much To Process!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                    The day I went to see "Happy Death Day," at my neighborhood theater, because I would never troop into Manhattan for such trash; especially at those prices, I was given a free poster of the film.  Everyone was.  This turned out to be a bonus, because the poster is actually better than the movie itself.

                                     It features, of course, young actors who are on a fast track to Nowhere, career wise.  The best advice I can give for young actors is don't allow yourselves to be cast in such a movie , if you care about your career.  Not everything turns out like "Friday The 13th," or "The Blair Witch Project."

                                   This film takes the plots of both "Groundhog Day," and "Gaslight," mashing them both together, implausibly.  I admit I was stumped on the killer's identity, but when revealed, I found it such a cop out, and unoriginal.  If you want to know who the killer is, without seeing the movie--and I don't blame you--recall the 'SVU' episode "Theater Tricks," or read the post I wrote on it, and it is there.  The motive of jealousy is almost the same.

                                   The actress playing the killer, Ruby Modine, actually delivers the film's best performance.  There is only one problem of credibility.  What is a basically Plain Jane type doing in an Alpha Bitch sorority?  How did she ever get in?  Unless her family is incredibly wealthy, and donates.

                                      Of course, this issue is never explored.  Nor is anything else.  Including the pivotal question of how the heroine comes to be cursed with having to relive the day of her murder, until the killer is caught.

                                        Stick with "Cold Case," girls.  It explores more insightful issues and Lily Rush's hair is superior to anyone's here.

                                         It's worth it, to grab the poster, though!

The Sign Says What It Says!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                         This post may raise some controversy, but I cannot deny it happened.  This must have been how Lena as Valerie affected me.

                                           Last night, I had a disturbing dream.  I was at some public event--the theater, probably, and was in line for the Men's Room.  The Ladies Room, was, literally, right next to it, but there were women in the men's line, and no women in line, next door.  When I got into the bathroom, I discovered the majority of users were women, like they had taken over.  There were urinals, and I relieved myself at one.  While washing my hands, I felt, at some point, that I had to speak up, and so I did.

                                             "Why are you all here?" I asked.  "You shouldn't be."

                                                Before going on with the dream, let me say I am fine with unisex bathrooms.  I have no problem using a space having been occupied by a woman.  But what happened in the dream was my nightmarish.

                                                 When I voiced this opinon, all sound stopped.  The women, all looking like Valerie Solonas types, turned to me in an intimidating way, and asking "What did you say?"

                                                   I have to admit I was scared.  At this point in the dream, I felt like Tessie Hutchinson in Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery."  And this group began to close in, surrounding me.

                                                     I stated simply what the sign says, and that, if they need a Ladies Room, there was another one, further down.  They did say the one next door was out of service.

                                                      My statement did not go down well with them.  I began to be physically beaten by most of them, and verbally abused, by the rest.  A few lipstick types tried to stop them, saying I did have a point, but no one listened to them.  One of them had the temerity to go up to a urinal, unzip her jeans, and rub her vagina against the porcelain.  I advised her this was not a smart thing to do, because of disease; besides, when men urinate, we don't touch the porcelain. Only our urine does.  I mean, God!  Crabs!  STD's!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                     The woman in question just glared at me, and, sounding like Kathleen Turner, said, "Oh yeah?  Fuck you, motherfucker!  I can go anywhere I want.  You want me to show you my vagina?"  I screamed in terror!  Like seeing the giant clitoris in "South Park."

                                                       Meanwhile I was still being beaten and pummeled. I was crying, bleeding, and in pain.  The women kept yelling and screaming in sadistic delight.  Suddenly, dressed in blue, like the Blue Fairy in Disney's "Pinocchio," appeared this Chloe Sevigny type, who resembled a co-worker of mine I have not seen in over ten years.  The next moment, the scene changed, and she, with some of the lipstick types, were sitting within the interior of  a small, striped circus tent, trying to find a way to solve the problem.

                                                         I held my ground.  But I did say the following, which is true.

                                                          Theaters need more adequate bathroom facilities.  I mean, at Barbara Cook's concerts, or Patti LuPone in "Gypsy," the line to the Men's Room was always longer.  At the latter, one lady snidely remarked to us men in line, "Now you know what WE go through!" Bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                          I mentioned this point in the circus tent conversation.  I also
mentioned both sexes' need for bladder relief, especially as one ages, and I recounted the story of being so distracted over an exam I was taking in college, that, on break, I bounded into the nearest bathroom, frustrated at not finding a urinal, not realizing where I was, not even with the pink tiled walls, until I saw the.....sanitary napkin dispenser!  Oh, my God!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                           The dream ended, almost as it had left off, with me in that original bathroom, and all those Gorgons hovering over me, menacingly.

                                                              See what Valerie Solonas did for me????????????????

Lena Dunham Stole The Show, As Valerie Solanas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                               I had so much fun with the seventh episode of "American Horror Story: Cult."  Entitled, "Valerie Solonas Died For Your Sins: Scumbag," it gave Lena Dunham a chance to steal the show as this week's titular character.  As long as she was on camera, she blew everyone else off the screen.  Even Evan Peters and Allison Pill.  Though I loved Peters' creepy take on Andy Warhol.

                                I also love Adina Porter as Beverly Hope. Hons, I am telling you, she is this generation's New Journalism--impassioned, direct, and on the mark.  Not unlike yours truly.  Everything modern journalism has ceased to be, which is why it is in such a decline.

                                But back to Lena as Valerie.  Her take is more fun and campy, in keeping with the spirit of this show.  For the gold standard on Valerie, turn to Lili Taylor in "I Shot Andy Warhol."

                                 Believe it or not, I once wanted to be the gay Valerie Solonas.  I tried reading "The Scum Manifesto," (Which stands for what, girls?  Society To Cut Up Men!!!!!!!!!) but found it an endless rant, just like Ian Brady's book on his serial killing career.

                                  But just that bit made me want to be the gay Valerie Solonas where I would rid the world of homophobic straights, and great big old closet cases.  I actually found a better way to do it than Valerie.  I simply exclude such from my life.

                                  Lena's posturings, though were so much fun to watch.  Her crazy hair, as she got loonier and loonier!  I thought she was going to get up on the table, at one point, and do "Valerie's Turn!"  It would have been a hoot!  The only other actress I could have seen in this role is Amanda Plummer!  Hey, where is Amanda, anyway?  And, Ryan, why don't you get her on this show?

                                   Finally, FINALLY, along comes Frances Conroy, as Bebe!  Oh, my God, that wig!  I thought she was trying to be Shelley Duvall.  And that whole Zodiac killer thing?  Crazy!!!!!!!!!   It might work in the AHS Universe, but I do not see Valerie Solonas, in real life, as being clever, subdued and objective enough to be as skilled as the Zodiac killer had to be.

                                    And how about that end, with Frances having the last laugh?????  This actress is having the time of her life with this role, and I am loving every minute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                     I still have questions about those decaying parents, and how they got that way.  I think it was the children.  And I think they may have been justified in doing it; ie; abuse.

                                     But it was Lena's show, all the way!

                                      Now, all I have to do is wait for Lily Rabe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                             

This Week's Bitch Wins For Stupidity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                            I am glad "To Kill A Mockingbird" is still being read.  Along with Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood," I think these are two of the best books of the last century, and it is no coincidence both were written by Southern writers.  All the authors of this region wrote the best fiction, far superior to the overrated Fitzgerald and Hemingway.  There!  I've said it!

                             The winner of this week's Raving Queen Bitch Of The Week Award is not an individual, but an organization.  It is the school administration, in Biloxi, Mississippi, for banning the quintessential work of one of its own Southern writers--"To Kill A Mockingbird," by Harper Lee.

                                Their objection is to its use of the "n" word, which,  of  course, is "nigger."  But that word is in other books--"Huckleberry Finn," "Gone With The Wind," and others, so why not ban all the books with this word?  Why Harper Lee?????????????????

                                  Stupid bitches!  It has nothing to do with Miss Lee, but with hypocrisy.  This act is like those believers who deny the Holocaust ever happened.  To ban this book, because of that word, is tantamount to denying the South ever had a race problem--hell, it still does, in some areas--and transform it into the picture perfect utopia many accused Margaret Mitchell of portraying.  Though, of course, she didn't.

                                  What fascinates me is that this book explores other issues that are never brought up, but are equally controversial--rape, false accusation thereof, the attempted murder of a child, and possible sexual abuse; I always wondered if Bob Ewell abused Mayella, leading him to attack Tom Robinson, over jealousy. For that matter, I wonder if he would have molested Scout!!!!!!!  But these matters are never brought up. And are just as valid for questionable banning of a book, even though it is too good to be banned.

                                  Only in one instance, did this issue of rape come up, and that was in my freshman high school English class.  I can never forget this.  We were required to read Harper Lee's book, and were studying it.  When we reached the part covering the trial, the teacher paused, at one point, and asked, "Is there anyone here who does not know what rape is?"

                                   Well, of course, no one raised their hand.  I wonder what would have happened if they did.  And teenagers don't tell all anyway.  Even I kept lots of things to myself.

                                    Even at the time, I thought this was so stupid.  This question should have been asked at the beginning, or not at all, or more thought given to the age appropriateness of our book.  I cannot imagine such a situation now, where a person this age, does not know the meaning of the word, but at my time, Fall, 1969, it was still, vaguely, possible.  So, if you weren't sure, why assign the book?

                                    The other word was never questioned, but was accepted, as it should be, as Lee intended, in being used in accordance with the time taking place.  Like Margaret Mitchell writing in Negro dialect, or Emily Bronte, writing in Yorkshire.

                                       "Words!  Words!  Words!  I'm so sick of words!," sang Julie Andrews, as Eliza Doolittle in "My Fair Lady."  She had a point.  Too much fuss is made over, sometimes, about what should be left alone.  And to demean one of the century's most enduring works is tantamount to sacrilege.  To think, by the home state of Donna Tartt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                          Get with the program, you Biloxi Bitches!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Go find some other author to pick on!

                                            Or maybe you want to genuinely traumatize your students by force feeding them the works of Joan Didion!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                              Harper Lee, banned!  Indeed!  Is Lewis Carroll next??????????????

What Is It With This Business's Advertisers?????????????????

                             Darlings, I have no idea where the hell Bloomingburg, New York is, and I don't even care.  According to my husband, David, it is way past our friends Eddie and Brian in the Catskills, and those two fun loving lesbians, Bonnie and Linda!  I just LOVE Bonnie and Linda!!!!!!!!!!!!

                              A diner is a diner is a diner.  When I was growing up, in Highland Park, NJ, the big deal on Friday nights was to go to the Edison Diner, on Route One.  One time, with my parents, we ran into my high school librarian, math teacher and Vice Principal there.  Go figure.  Distinctly middle class.

                            But, at this time of my life, I had little to say about anything, and had to take fun where it was.  The Edison Diner was; it had those mini table juke boxes, where, each week, I would have the fight with my mother over playing "In The Bush," as loud as it could go, while cruising truckers driving by.  We always sat by the window.  I insisted.

                             The food was adequate.  I recall their Fried Chicken In The Basket being good, and while I am still not sure where their steak came from (or from whom) it had flavor.  I just blocked out the truth.  But I used to go crazy on the nights when they had Lobster Newburg on the menu.

                              I have never heard, before or since, of this dish being featured in a diner.  I am not sure it is featured anywhere; I think it is one of those dishes having gone out of style.  Ever since finding that copy of Frances Parkinson Keyes' "Dinner At Antoine's," on the living room bookshelf, it was my dream to go there for haute cuisine.  I did get there, eventually--twice, in fact--but at the time of my life I am presently writing about, "Lobster Newburg En Casserole," as it was billed, was the closest I could come.  And it was good!  I would eat every bite.

                              Of course, now I realize it was probably some glop from a can mixed with cut up scallops, or something, but even I, darlings, had a period of life where I was unsophisticated!  Or, at least, not as sophisticated, as I eventually turned out to be, and, presently, am.

                               Which brings me back to the Quickway Diner.  Why is this business, so far away from us, advertising so that the ads reach Brooklyn, and, presumably, Manhattan??????????
Best Coffee?  Best Breakfast?  Best Soup?  By whom?  The Academy Of Motion Picture Arts And Sciences?  And who in their right mind is going to travel God knows where, just to go a diner?????????  A diner!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                I know real estate closer to New York is expensive, but do Tee and Veek, the owners, really think they can draw Metropolitanites to this rural greasy spoon?  Unless Lana Turner, in her role as Cora, in "The Postman Always Rings Twice," works there, not a chance!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                  Besides, I'd rather go to "Mildred's!"  Mildred Pierce, that is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Aunt Charlotte, Do You Think, Even At Our Age, We Should Wear Our Skirts So Short?????????"

                                   Leave it to Bonita Granville, girls, to ask the most pertinent question in "Now, Voyager."  Indeed, the question still holds up today. What is it about teen girls that make so many of them want to dress, like tramps?  They think they are being sexy; maybe even experimenting with that notion for the first time, without realizing there are other ways.  Yes, I know the teen's brain is underdeveloped, and all that, but not all girls this age dress this way; some have taste. Even if they don't go to Miss Porter's.

                                 Actually, Bonita asks the right question here. I think we should all go back to dressing the way Orry-Kelly dressed the women in "Now, Voyager."  Except for the dowdy, spinsterish Charlotte, of course.  And I never thought Bonita's skirt was that short.

                                  If we all dressed like this, dolls, we would all have what Charlotte tells Tina,
"A kind of beauty."

                                  And that will get you far, dears!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Not trampy fishnets!!!!!!!!!!!!