I read SOTI that there is a better-than-50/50 chance that the bloated and loathsome Hollywood mogul [some overlap] Harvey Weinstein may not be convicted for #MeToo DoublePlusUngood Sex Crimes after all.
I have no idea if this is true, of course, but should this happen, Evil Kim is cackling his ass off at the probable feministical reaction.
Hasten the day…
Spies Sources tell me that the following names for new car models were once suggested in various countries, but rejected for some strange reason or another. From bad to worst (and one which was actually accepted):
(Actually, both Lambo and VW have been jointly responsible for some of the worst car names in history, so no surprise that they’re #1 and #2.)
Your suggestions in Comments…
We often imagine how things might have turned out if instead of X, we’d done Y or Z, and so on. Imagine how TV show Gilligan’s Island might have turned out with this cast:
Whoa. In fact, all the above auditioned for those parts in the show, but were rejected. And here’s Mary Ann in the alternate universe:
For the record, I’ve only ever watched a few episodes of Gilligan’s Island because boredom, and not since because brain bleed. With the above cast, I might have been tempted to watch more, and not just because of Raquel.
Here’s an exercise. Put your favorite modern actors (at any age) into those roles, and imagine how the show would have changed.
Here are my suggestions, by way of example, which I think would have made the show not only more grown-up, but more watchable (and funnier):
…but I can’t beat
Go on, it’s your turn (and it’s harder than you think).
I think this tweet thread from last year says it all, really:
My standard response when a younger child does the “Trick or Treat?” thing to me is to say:
“I don’t know; which one do you want me to do to you?”
If I say it loudly enough, it’s generally enough to have a Helicopter Parent come steaming up to the door and snatch Their Precious Child away from me. Then I throw gumballs at their retreating figures.
Roger Simon finally wakes up and smells the coffee. Now all he has to do is persuade his hoplophobe rabbi to allow him to carry his piece into the shul.
While the Usual Suspects are squalling once again about gun control after some anti-Semitic asshole kills Jews, they are absolutely silent when a good guy gun owner snuffs out a homicidal maniac.
Our troops are thirsty lil’ buggers. Good.
Brazil looks set to pivot sharply to the right Sunday with the election of a Trump-type guy who wants to privatize state companies [in an ailing economy], liberalize gun ownership [in the face of ubiquitous violent crime] and mine the rain forest. Needless to say, the Meejah are clutching pearls and forecasting the Apocalypse.
Some government employee brought several .gov systems crashing down with Russian malware after visiting 9,000 porn sites.
Absolutely Fabulous (UK)
Absolutely nobody I know likes this ridiculous, over-the-top, outrageous and over-acted series, but I absolutely fucking love it. The fact that the show is based on an actual PR person (no names, no pack drill) makes it even more delicious.
The point is that from beginning to end, AbFab is not actually a comedy, but satire — and it lampoons everything, from the PR business to fashion to feminism to family relations and oh so much more. Whether it’s the frantic, hysterical Edina’s latest fad diet, the feline Patsy’s fondness for Bollinger at 8am or insufferable daughter Saffron’s earnest espousal of everything PC, AbFab doesn’t so much skewer it as either a bludgeon it with a club or flay it with a razor.
Saffie: I’m sorry, mum, but I’ve never seen what it is that you actually do.
Eddie: PRrr.
Saffie: Yes, but —
Eddie: PR. I PR things. People. Places. Concepts…
Patsy: Lulu.
Eddie: Lulu. I make the fabulous… I make the crap into credible. I make the dull into —
Patsy: Delicious.
No better description of public relations was ever penned. And as for PR awards:
Eddie: They don’t matter, do they, darling?… Awards, Pats?
Patsy: Oh, Eddy. We’ve been here before.
Eddie: It’s just… you know… I WANT one. I don’t just want one, darling, I NEED one. My career is on a toboggan run of failure at the moment… I just need one. It’s the only thing that seems to mean ANYthing these days… I need one now before the menopause drags me into her gaping jaws. Before my creative hormonal oil-well dribbles to a halt. Before my bottom becomes just a patch-work quilt of monkey glands, darling.
Saffie: But, Mum, menopause can be a very exhilarating and positive experience for a woman.
Eddie: Oooh, yes. And the curse is a blessing and childbirth is painless. No. Unless that gaping hole on my mantle piece is filled pretty soon, darling, I might as well… I might as well lick this light-switch and do us all a favour, darling…
And:
[to daughter Saffron, after a heated argument]
Eddie: With any luck we’d get Roman Polanski interested in you.
Patsy (snarling): She was never young enough for him.
Not to mention the booze:
Patsy: What will you drink if you stop drinking?
Eddie: I shall drink water.
[pause]
Eddie: It’s a mixer, Pats. We have it with whisky… I mean, you‘ve given up drinking before?
Patsy: Worst eight hours of my life.
Finally, there’s Eddie’s mother, played by the amazing June Whitfield:
Eddy: Mother, are you still on the computer?
Gran: Yes, dear. Sometimes you get into a porn loop and just can’t get out.
And then of course there’s Patsy:
“The last mosquito that bit me had to check into the Betty Ford Clinic.”
Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous.