I’m in the mood… for a little Mae West! Check out this trailer for “I’m No Angel” from 1933. And if you’ve never seen the movie, you just have to!
And from “She Done Him Wrong,” also in 1933, singing “A Guy What Takes His Time.”
And now, because she promised to finish her cantaloupe and cottage cheese if I put this on my blog, here’s my imaginary daughter Amy’s favorite, Adele, singing an acoustic version of her hit “Right As Rain.”
In a stunning move that blatantly panders to comedians and writers, McCain has chosen “Monty Python” star Michael Palin as his running mate. This is just a desperate move on McCain’s part — he might as well have chosen some random Alaskan.
Palin, whose credentials include his role as Pontius Pilate in “Life of Brian,” has more recently appeared in a series of travelogues. This will be a very difficult choice for McCain to justify, as Palin was born in England and can’t be president.
Perhaps McCain is trying to pick up some of the voters who were disappointed that Al Franken didn’t run.
ERRATA: Oh, wait. Reader Harris in Atlanta informs your Chexy it’s SARAH Palin. Nevermind. Check out what SARAH Palin has to say about the VP job in this clip at 2:50, from reader Mooky.
“As for that VP talk all the time, I tell you I still can’t answer that question until somebody answers for me: What is it, exactly, that the VP does every day?” — Gov. Sarah Palin
Last night, at the beginning of Obie’s biblically epic speech before 85,000 at Invesco Field, he said: “We are here because we love this country too much to let the next four years look just like the last eight.”
And what person in their right mind wouldn’t agree with that? Is there a single Republican who can say, in good conscience and with a straight face, “Bush has done a great job in this country, and we’re better off now than we were eight years ago”? Unless you’re an Exxon or Halliburton executive, this is an impossible statement to make. But the ignorant have never been reasonable, nor known for expansive consciousness that rises beyond self-interest polemics. Obama’s speech transcended politics by asking us what kind of nation we want to be, while reminding us of our sullied greatness. Obama is right, we’re better than what America has become under this swaggering, incompetent, squandering Republican presidency. Once again, the election will likely come down to Ohio and Florida (and we know how that goes). The late Tim Russert predicted New Mexico, Colorado, Arizona and Nevada would be key states in 2008, and that if Dems can win three of them, then Ohio and Florida don’t matter.
Kudos to “Inconvenient Truth” filmmaker Davis Guggenheim, whose Barack biopic showed how a fatherless, bi-racial child from Chicago could grow up to be president, and that the presidency is not just an office reserved for the privileged idiot son of a wealthy oil family.
I was picking up a few things at Target the other day, when it seemed I was suddenly caught up in a North Hollywood High School production of “Guys and Dolls.” Every third person looked like a gangsta Britney Spears or malnourished post-war thug. I’m here to tell you all, the mini-fedora craze has reached critical mass and is officially over.
This news has clearly escaped spraytanned hot dad Brad Pitt, who showed up at Venice Film Festival in his pre-Labor Day whites and this mini fedora, better suited to the head of a retired New Jersey mobster vacationing in Boca Raton. Poor Brad looks so tired, which may explain why he couldn’t see how doofish he looks in that dwarf chapeau.
I suppose the mini fedora is better than the backward baseball cap, but when children, teenagers and adults look like Humphrey Bogarts who have gone through the wash, it’s time to give the trend a rest.
My imaginary daughter Amy, 6, asked for a black mini fedora because she wanted to “play DJ and pretend she was Samantha Ronson” (which requires multiple Oreos to represent CDs). I’ve asked Carolyn not to let Amy read TMZ.
Hillary Clinton was a little too fabulous last night — making a lot of people wonder why the pantsuited wonder wasn’t the party’s nominee. Will her cheerleading be enough to draw Dems to the polls to vote for Obie? We’ll see.
It was interesting to me that Hillary defined herself as “a proud mother, a proud Democrat, a proud Senator from New York, a proud American, and a proud supporter of Barack Obama.” I guess she’s not a proud wife, and who can blame her?
Everyone who doesn’t hate her knows that Hillary would have been a great candidate. Perhaps she’ll run again. Unfortunately, I think Obama’s decision not to have Hillary on the ticket was not a good one, and may be his undoing. Combining their forces would have been electrifying, Biden is merely stupefying. Her speech last night is now part of her legend.
My imaginary daughter Amy, 6, watched Hillary’s speech, and called me on her Hello Kitty cell phone to ask, “Ricky, can a fat girl be president?” I was quite direct with her, and told her that more would depend on evolutionary change in our patriarchal society, and that she would have to talk to her Auntie Jean about that. I reminded her to compliment Jean on her new haircut without using the word “butch” like she did last time. I can’t imagine where Amy learned that. She’s advanced for 6.
Ted Kennedy put on a rousing show for the Democrats last night invoking, perhaps for the last time, the spirit of his brothers, John and Bobby. Looking puffy and frail, with a trembling hand, the ailing Senator reached the crescendo of his remarks with yet another (and seemingly final) call for universal health care for all Americans.
Kennedy appeared to falter at first, then gained strength from the reverent crowd as he proceeded to extol the virtues of Barack Obama, most memorably saying, “Barack Obama will close the book on the old politics of race and gender and group against group and straight against gay.”
The survival rate of malignant glioma patients of Kennedy’s age, 76, is typically a year or less, even after surgery. Kennedy pledged that he’d be there in January when the Senate convenes… and I expect that he will.
Christina Aguilera was unable to form an expression last night after the weight of her makeup rendered her face unresponsive. The problem was compounded by the gravitational pull of sixteen pounds of My Little Pony Platinum extensions, along with the Coriolis force required to keep her gazongas from bursting their bugle-beaded truss.
No guests were injured at the Trump Tower Dubai reception in L.A. when random objects began to hurtle toward Christina, creating a massive vortex of glassware, cameras and hors d’oeuvres around the singer.
Saturday was my imaginary daughter Amy’s graduation from “Tons of Fun” fat camp. That’s her in light pink in a rare appearance at the front of a line not headed for the buffet. Yes, I know, she’s big for 6. Despite the half-eaten bag of Mini Snickers found in her Jonas Brothers backpack, she lost a total of two pounds in two weeks, which Carolyn allowed her to celebrate at IHOP with a Super Rooty Tooty Fresh ‘N Fruity.
Amy’s appearance as a non-starchy vegetable in the camp’s musical performance of “Eat Your Greens” was a hit, and her ad-libbed line, “I hate these fuckin’ things!” was certainly the highlight of the presentation.
I sat in the back so I could videotape, while Carolyn sat in a good portion of the second row.
