…this will make your day. You’re welcome.
I live to serve. 
Speaking of fantastic music…
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Category Archives: Entertainment
Want a sad story?
I know, you don’t. But check it out anyway. The Heisman events of late brought to my mind a situation that makes Reggie Bush’s “loss” pretty much laughable.
If you’ve never heard of Fatty Arbuckle, you’re probably not alone. His persona has basically been lost to history for decades. But boy, was he a contenda — until the wheels fell off and he was destroyed by innuendo and sensationalism.
In 1918, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle became the first Hollywood actor to sign a contract for $1 million. His physical grace and athletic abilities despite his huge size were legendary. His contemporaries (Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and a very young Bob Hope, to name a few) admired him. The world was his oyster.
Then he went to a party in San Francisco over Labor Day in 1921. Several hours into the bash, a girl named Virginia Rappe ran screaming from a bedroom in the house. Four days later, she came down with an infection and died. Arbuckle was arrested and arraigned for rape and murder.
The rape was particularly brutal (I won’t go into the details here, but you can research it yourself to learn the nauseating facts), and many figured that the only person with the requisite size and strength to pull it off was Roscoe (his friends never called him “Fatty”). People assumed and figured, concocted and presupposed, and before long, Arbuckle was persona non grata in Hollywood. His career was over. There was just one little issue, however.
He didn’t do it.
He endured not only the scorn of his erstwhile adoring public, but the systematic deconstruction of the career he’d spent years building through touring with burlesque and vaudeville companies. Close friends refused to believe he’d done such a horrible thing, but with the combination of an overly-ambitious prosecutor looking for reelection, and a maniacal publisher (Wm. Randolph Hearst) dying to sell newspapers, Arbuckle was doomed. It was the first time that a major movie star was involved in such a spectacular scandal, and everyone wanted their piece of the action.
It was also the first time in the history of American justice that a jury later issued a formal, written apology. Even though they acquitted Arbuckle (at his THIRD trial) for the crime and set him free, they knew his life was irreparably shattered. In their letter to him and to the public, they said in a desperate plea for people to forgive and forget:
Acquittal is not enough for Roscoe Arbuckle. We feel that a great injustice has been done him … there was not the slightest proof adduced to connect him in any way with the commission of a crime. He was manly throughout the case and told a straightforward story which we all believe. We wish him success and hope that the American people will take the judgment of fourteen men and women that Roscoe Arbuckle is entirely innocent and free from all blame.”
Too bad it didn’t work out that way. He never recovered from the scandal. He died in 1933.
So, it’s no wonder people like Reggie Bush are counting their blessings today, Heisman or no Heisman. It could have been a lot worse.
But hey, let’s end this on a positive note: BOOMR ARRIVES TONIGHT!!!
And Emmy makes three
For the third straight year, my favorite TV show (and one of exactly two that I watch with any regularity at all) won the Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series. Not surprising. What was surprising was the baffling ridiculousness of January Jones’s dress. Yipes.
Christina Hendricks (on the left, in the gorgeous taupe gown) was lovely, as usual. I for one recognize her acting talent as well as the fact that she is a great physical role model for “regular” women. No worries, Chrissy.
My other favorite series (HBO’s True Blood) was nominated but didn’t win. It’s a rather goofy show, but cool that a saga about vampires and werewolves and other silly creatures has captured the entertainment world’s attention. I also like nominee Breaking Bad, but I never get to watch it for some reason. I’ve settled for the cheapskate recap vids on AMC’s site.
Most deserving was Al Pacino, for his role as Jack Kevorkian. It was by far his creepiest (I’ve seen every Pacino movie since Panic in Needle Park and Serpico), and right up there with Michael Corleone on the believability scale. Home run.
Then there’s Glee. We won’t talk about that this morning — I’m in a hurry.
RF, still looking for the happy in Mondays
Image credit: Reuters
Trippin’ the creepy meter II
Happy Clown Week. BooOoOOO.
I have referenced my long-ago post about clowns on several occasions over the last two-plus years, for various reasons. I know my fiend Stoney agrees with my oft-restated opinion: to me, clowns are neither happy nor funny. They are, in fact, among the most sinister and nightmarish-looking creatures to ever walk the planet. It matters not what kind of clowns they are, or how many pratfalls they perform, how talented they are at making balloon animals, or how goofy they act. They are macabre, suspect beings who seemingly never fail to leave small children caterwauling in abject terror.
Like many birds of a feather, they also have their own cult. Clowns are like the Branch Davidians, only without David Koresh and all the killing and stuff. They are understood by few outsiders, although you’re welcome to join us in the clowning world anytime…
Thanks all the same, but I’ll pass.
Perhaps the creepiest is the curious and bizarre art form of clown eggs. Once you join the “society,” you are entitled to have your visage recorded for posterity — on an egg. Your face is painted on an egg. For rill. Some of them are actually beautiful; not all are skeevy. (But most are.)
And speaking of inexplicably weird, we go from clowns to Basil Marceaux. A brave patriot for sure, but governor material? Not so much. Or cripes, maybe he’d be great — I mean, the political gene pool isn’t too rich with flora and fauna right now, knowmsayin’?
Speaking of clowning around — today is Justin & Jake Overnight day. Play Doh, sidewalk chalk, sand box, trucks, the park, hide and seek, Dairy Queen and a long bath are the orders of the afternoon and evening. Grammie and Grandpa Thriller just might survive it.
Hey Mom, let’s go here!
This morning I was looking at theme parks. You know, the Grammie part of me likes to think about places to take the Most Amazing Toddlers in the World (a name I won’t be able to use for much longer, since one is creeping up on birthday #3), so I started snooping about. Came upon this place – have any of you fiends been there? Was it worth the trip?
Anyway, on one of many random searches, a particular venue caught my eye. It could possibly top a list of The Most Depressing Theme Park in the World. Flippin’ awesome.
It’s Dickens World, a multi-million-pound venture situated in an old dock yard in Kent, England. Wow! Take a day to experience the filth, disease and hopelessness of Dickensian England, with actors portraying the dregs of hard-luck Victorian-era society. What a thrill for the kiddies. According to the website, you can also ” jump on board the Great Expectations Boat Ride for splashing good fun, take a trip back in time to a Victorian School complete with nasty schoolmaster or get spooked in The Haunted House of 1859.”
And look — the place comes with its own streetwalkers, ready to sell the kids their…um…yeah. Heh.
Seriously, I think this is fantastic. I would love it. I’m just not sure I’d take my children under the guise of having a cracking good time at an amusement park. History lesson — similar to, say, Colonial Williamsburg? Yes. Yee-haw, that-was-awesome fun? Nope.
OK, so Oliver Twist doesn’t float your boat. How about Grutas Park in Lithuania, where you can revisit the finer points of Stalinesque dictatorships, and, as Foreign Policy magazine puts it, “experience the joys of Gulag life, immerse yourself in the warm embrace of totalitarianism — and when you get a bit peckish, enjoy a tasty meal of ‘Nostalgija’ borscht, ‘Deer’s Eye’ cocktail, and ‘Reminiscence’ starch jelly in the cafe”? There’s also a train ride and a playground for the kids.
No? Sheesh, party pooper.
To be fair, some of these parks are not intended for children in the “entertainment” sense, but rather as an educational experience. But when an American hears the term “theme park,” he likely thinks of amusements — roller coasters, a midway, food courts and the like. Hence, the confusion.
Still, I think I’ll stick to searching for the “yee-haw” element when planning an outing for the Toddlers — at least for now — before stressing to them the finer points of picking a pocket or two.