April 25, 2013: I had every intention of doing a Blah-ugh! entry on my friend Steven Spielberg, but that's going to have to wait. My inclination to spout about my favorite sit-com family has again grabbed at my groin and I'm going to seize the opportunity the way I seize the towel when I leave the shower naked, although hopefully I won't hurt my back this time ...
Yes, The Brady Bunch is the subject again today. Faithful Blah-ugh! readers -- the 23 of you -- know that I've barfed up some of my Brady ideas in past entries. This time, however, I won't bore you with more Marcia-related revelations, but I will put a new twist on Mike. You see, once again my children and I have slogged through another cycle of our DVDs and now, after the 14th -- or 40th, I'm not sure which -- viewing, it's become abundantly clear that Mike Brady is really the antithesis of the great father role model I always presumed him to be. (And no, Shannon, it has nothing to do with Robert Reed being gay and from Chicago.)
You see, though I've tried to deny it, I can't now watch one of these episodes without noticing how often Mike hits the kids. Yes, it's absolutely true. He swats them like insects on a regular basis, particularly in the first couple of seasons. It's a wonder he wasn't reported sooner, or that he hasn't now been cast in the sour light of other psychopathic television parents -- Homer Simpson, Archie Bunker, and Cloris Leachman. The examples are numerous -- the viewing of Greg's film on the pilgrims, Greg buying the lemon, Greg learning something-or-other ... In fact, I think Greg took the worst of his blows, which were often loud slaps on the back, but also sound whacks on the butt, the leg or the arm, depending on Robert Reed's mood.
It's ironic that Reed was such a fussbudget about the numerous implausibilities in Brady scripts, such as the time so-called Method actress "Meerna" Carter gave him and Henderson (a.k.a. Carol) tips on how to be motivated in the Safe commercial. All that time he was focusing his somewhat warped Shakespearean sensibilities on script revisions and scolding memos to the Schwartz family, he might have better served everyone by refraining from hitting the children so often.
That said, I think it's important to address the spectacle of Cousin Oliver. It was a dark day in Brady history when this pesty little jinx ambled onto the set looking like a shrunken John Denver. His smarmy one-liners and irritating glasses all served to beg the question of why Robert Reed didn't hit him more often.
Hmmmm... I see there are many, many more involved Brady-related points that require broaching, and I simply don't have the time or fortitude to address them right now. Why is Carol wearing Marcia's shirt in that episode with Lovey Howell and the Good Ship Lollipop? Does Jim Backus have a toupee or a comb-over in the pool episode? And what happened to Mr. Phillips? Was the new City Hall built in Woodland Park? Did Alice and Sam ever marry, and did he ever repair that gaping space in his front teeth? Did the kids ever record a family-version of "Clowns Never Laughed Before?" Did Maureen McCormick ever stop pronouncing words with that California patois, such as "dinist" for "dentist," etc. Does she still hate Alan Anthony? (I know I do and always will!) ...
Showing posts with label Steven Spielberg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steven Spielberg. Show all posts
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Russell Brand Is Sooooo Ugly!
February 27, 2011: Well, judging by that colossal non-response to my last Blah-ugh! entry, I'm guessing I'll need to get up for work tomorrow morning. (Thanks for nothing, you @**#*/!'s ...) But that's okay. I'll be, if not a better man, certainly a bitter one, and this can only help with my bitter Blah-ugh! ramblings, which I heartily enjoy, even if you don't!
And on that note, my god, Russell Brand is sooooo ugly! I'm not sure who he is -- I guess some actor. (Please don't expect me to keep up with these things, for it's hard enough doing a Blah-ugh! entry every three days and my laundry every week, let alone following pointless current events!) But I just went to the IMDB website to see if Mr. Spielberg was making any progress on Jurassic Park IV, and that Frankensteinian face of his jumped out at me like a fright mask. (I literally had to duck away from my computer screen in fear.) Apparently he was at the Oscars, lurking about and grinning like a Jack O'Lantern. What's going on in America, I want to know, when we can let such an ugly man stalk the red carpet, looking like an underfed hatchet murderer in a tuxedo.
Speaking of bizarre looks, I was also dumbfounded to learn that Anne Hathaway hosted the awards. By what logic was she chosen for this? And while perhaps her "hosting" abilities may be somewhat stronger than her benign acting skills -- a benign feat itself, believe me -- it's hard to believe they couldn't have come up with at least 400 other more engaging personalities for that honor, even starting with Russell Brand (whoever he is).
Speaking of looks -- and please understand, I am certainly that shallow, as many of you know -- why can't more people look like Halle Berry -- men and women ... I almost wonder if she isn't some kind of android, as she seems to keep getting better looking each year (unlike Russell Brand, who'll probably go from Steven Tyler ugly to Crypt Keeper ugly by the end of this decade).
(NOTE: In an effort to keep these posts accurate and timely, I just now took the trouble of looking up Russell Brand -- (and I'll bet you didn't know he was a Gemini!) Apparently he's some kind of actor, although he must be of that character variety made popular by people like Peter Lorre and that ugly guy with the crooked teeth who was in Ghost, and always plays a homely man. I'll add that I was pleased to find him English, and could almost forgive him everything for that, but I fear ultimately -- and I hate to harp on it -- he's got to be one of the scariest looking individuals in our hemisphere.
Which is not to say I find Anne Hathaway much more attractive. In fact, she sort of looks like a CGI outtake -- wobbly, blown out features ... or perhaps like someone you'd see on a Pink Floyd album cover ...
Of course, even with her physical miscues, she's no Russell Brand ... God, that guy is sooooo ugly!
And on that note, my god, Russell Brand is sooooo ugly! I'm not sure who he is -- I guess some actor. (Please don't expect me to keep up with these things, for it's hard enough doing a Blah-ugh! entry every three days and my laundry every week, let alone following pointless current events!) But I just went to the IMDB website to see if Mr. Spielberg was making any progress on Jurassic Park IV, and that Frankensteinian face of his jumped out at me like a fright mask. (I literally had to duck away from my computer screen in fear.) Apparently he was at the Oscars, lurking about and grinning like a Jack O'Lantern. What's going on in America, I want to know, when we can let such an ugly man stalk the red carpet, looking like an underfed hatchet murderer in a tuxedo.
Speaking of bizarre looks, I was also dumbfounded to learn that Anne Hathaway hosted the awards. By what logic was she chosen for this? And while perhaps her "hosting" abilities may be somewhat stronger than her benign acting skills -- a benign feat itself, believe me -- it's hard to believe they couldn't have come up with at least 400 other more engaging personalities for that honor, even starting with Russell Brand (whoever he is).
Speaking of looks -- and please understand, I am certainly that shallow, as many of you know -- why can't more people look like Halle Berry -- men and women ... I almost wonder if she isn't some kind of android, as she seems to keep getting better looking each year (unlike Russell Brand, who'll probably go from Steven Tyler ugly to Crypt Keeper ugly by the end of this decade).
(NOTE: In an effort to keep these posts accurate and timely, I just now took the trouble of looking up Russell Brand -- (and I'll bet you didn't know he was a Gemini!) Apparently he's some kind of actor, although he must be of that character variety made popular by people like Peter Lorre and that ugly guy with the crooked teeth who was in Ghost, and always plays a homely man. I'll add that I was pleased to find him English, and could almost forgive him everything for that, but I fear ultimately -- and I hate to harp on it -- he's got to be one of the scariest looking individuals in our hemisphere.
Which is not to say I find Anne Hathaway much more attractive. In fact, she sort of looks like a CGI outtake -- wobbly, blown out features ... or perhaps like someone you'd see on a Pink Floyd album cover ...
Of course, even with her physical miscues, she's no Russell Brand ... God, that guy is sooooo ugly!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Jewing It Down
December 15, 2009: In light of the recent unpleasantness infecting my Blah-ugh! -- (You people act like children, and all I ever wanted to do was to make you laugh, and sing, and perhaps take your clothes off and chant my name while writhing on some stone altar somehwere out on a moor at Midsummer's Eve!) -- I thought it best to focus on less controversial subjects for the time being (meaning until you all learn to behave!) ...
That said, I thought it a good time of year to address my fears of being Jewish. Please understand, I'm only half Jewish, but like being half black in modern America, they'll still send you to the inferior restroom as a consequence.
Jews today have, of course, found ever-increasing acceptance amidst the Goyum. But like other often-battered minorities (and Yes, I include the Eskimos here) our comfort is always a precarious one, forever at the mercy of some violent midwestern Redneck, or some well-educated northeast Protestant who firmly believes he has conclusive evidence to support some of the stereotypes.
When all is said and done, I simply feel it makes more sense to lay low. While I'm always one to tout my Jewishness amongst the Chosen People -- Hell, I've even purported to be all Jewish when I knew no one would really have the nerve to check -- I've found it practically safer to keep my Gentile face in front where others are concerned, if for no other reason than to avoid the chipper Gee-Whiz comments of the Christmas crowd. ("Oh, you're Jewish. That's great," the implication being "Better you than me!")
And Yes, it is an arduous brand we bare, as both Steven Spielberg and I know only too well. As a people with ne'er a land to call their own (outside of Israel, Hollywood and what the ever-dignified and articulate Rev. Jesse Jackson so sensitively referred to as "Hymietown), we find ourselves forever faced with the fear of being excluded, ostricized, and, on the worst days, put in ovens.
So, in celebration of Hannukah, I intend to stand by my anonymity and keep the crosses off the lawn. And should, God forbid, things ever take a real bad turn to the worst of human nature, I'll swear we were only using the things because we couldn't find candleholders.
Next Week: Honoring (and taming) the dormant anti-Semite in all of us!
That said, I thought it a good time of year to address my fears of being Jewish. Please understand, I'm only half Jewish, but like being half black in modern America, they'll still send you to the inferior restroom as a consequence.
Jews today have, of course, found ever-increasing acceptance amidst the Goyum. But like other often-battered minorities (and Yes, I include the Eskimos here) our comfort is always a precarious one, forever at the mercy of some violent midwestern Redneck, or some well-educated northeast Protestant who firmly believes he has conclusive evidence to support some of the stereotypes.
When all is said and done, I simply feel it makes more sense to lay low. While I'm always one to tout my Jewishness amongst the Chosen People -- Hell, I've even purported to be all Jewish when I knew no one would really have the nerve to check -- I've found it practically safer to keep my Gentile face in front where others are concerned, if for no other reason than to avoid the chipper Gee-Whiz comments of the Christmas crowd. ("Oh, you're Jewish. That's great," the implication being "Better you than me!")
And Yes, it is an arduous brand we bare, as both Steven Spielberg and I know only too well. As a people with ne'er a land to call their own (outside of Israel, Hollywood and what the ever-dignified and articulate Rev. Jesse Jackson so sensitively referred to as "Hymietown), we find ourselves forever faced with the fear of being excluded, ostricized, and, on the worst days, put in ovens.
So, in celebration of Hannukah, I intend to stand by my anonymity and keep the crosses off the lawn. And should, God forbid, things ever take a real bad turn to the worst of human nature, I'll swear we were only using the things because we couldn't find candleholders.
Next Week: Honoring (and taming) the dormant anti-Semite in all of us!
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