Sudoko is just too damned hard. I’m just sayin’.
You could argue that I get what I deserve, living as I do in Hollywood, world capital of self-obsession.
But it still turns my stomach to see drivers who stick their resumes onto their personalized license plates.
Like the woman who was blocking traffic yesterday in Century City. Her license plate didn’t say, as would have been more appropriate, “I desperately need more training in driving and manners, ” (you figure out the clever 7-letter abbreviation for that, I’m too spiritually exhausted).
Instead it said, “Emmy 86.”
Well isn’t that special. Pity that with an Emmy didn’t come free driving lessons.
Even worse is John Laroquette’s personalized plate, which says, I kid you not, “MNY EMMYS.”
[pause for collective projectile vomit]
Now, I realize that the rash and ungracious among you might insist on pointing out that I, too, indulge in a personalized license plate. This is true. But as everyone knows, mine is simply my name, which or course isn’t obnoxious or pretentious, it’s whimsical and adorable.
During a Q&A period after, say, a screening or a lecture, is for just that: Questions and Answers.
Let’s review how this works, shall we?
The person in the audience asks a question, which, ideally, is followed with an answer from the speaker.
Notice nowhere did I say anything about the audience member making a stupid, self-aggrandizing speech.
I find myself at Q&A sessions frequently during my rich escapades around the cultural landscape of Los Angeles, and I don’t think I’ve ever managed to sit through one where there weren’t a couple jerks in the audience who raised their hands only to launch into fifteen minute stories about their completely unfascinating lives. This needs to stop.
Please help me spread the word. In this matter, as in so many others, tasers are quite helpful.
I realize the bar keeps going down, and there’s not much we can do about it. I realize that politicians, religionists, and network television executives will not stop until our mentality is back in the Stone Age.
But two-time Academy-Award-winner-before-she-was-30 Jodie Foster was someone I used to think of as a standard-bearer. A beacon of class and integrity.
And then she decided to make the new film THE BRAVE ONE.
What was she thinking? Why does she want to be Charles Bronson and remake DEATH WISH? Since when is vigilantism a value worth celebrating and promoting in A-pictures.
Thanks, Jodie. Thanks for joining the Great Unwashed.
It just gets better and better. Reeling from their recent expensive litigation settlements to former victims of their employees, the San Diego Diocese is desperate to find a way to pay out without having to sell off any of its precious property.
Their ingenious solution? Ask the faithful to pay the bill! You heard right, sports fans, after years of protecting the monsters who molested their children, the San Diego Catholic Church is asking the parishioners to pay their bill!
Every time I think I can’t be more impressed by the shamelessness and arrogance of those who claim God’s authority, someone raises the bar!!
How can any literate American still patronize this morally (and, hopefully soon, financially) bankrupt organization?
I guess it’s always good to be reminded in these politically polarized times that politicos of any party can be venal, corrupt assholes.
Today’s reminder was the revelation of how California State Assembly Speaker Fabien Nunez has been abusing his political warchest. A contribution-built fund that’s to be used for campaigning and state business, it has become, evidently, Nunez’ private wish-fulfillment account!
Let’s just look at a few of the expenditures, shall we?
$8, 745 at the Hotel Arts in Barcelona, Spain;
$5, 149 for a “meeting” at Cave L’Avant Garde, a wine seller in France’s Bordeaux region;
$2, 562 for “office expenses” two years apart at Louis Vuitton, a Parisian store that specializes in leather goods, clothing, fashion accessories and jewelry; and
$1, 795 for another “meeting” at Le Grand Colbert, a Parisian restaurant.
$1, 715 at Asia de Cuba, a West Hollywood restaurant;
$2, 428 for a meeting at 58 Degrees and Holding, a Sacramento restaurant;
And on and on. This fund is built largely from organizational giving (such as unions and professional organizations) and contributions from Democratic sucker citizens, like me.
You know who I’m mad at? The California Democratic Party. They’re not getting another red (okay, pink) cent from me until they tie strings to any future monies they give crooks like this, forcing them to use the money properly or not take it.
You may have heard my erudite comments of righteous indignation on “Air Talk” this morning on KCRW-FM.