You folks ever see the movie All That Jazz, with Ben Vereen, Jessica Lange and Roy Scheider? You oughta check it out, it’s great. And I’m not just saying that because it was one of the only ways you could see nudity on TV, as a kid of the 1980’s.
The Chisholm and Humphrey buttons are awfully familiar, but I just can’t place why…
Despite my general distaste for trendy buzzwords, “woke” never bugged me to the extent of, let’s say, “synergy”, or “logos”. (That’s “Logos“, not the plural word for “logo”.)
I can tell when a new word’s gonna go the distance, and when it’s gonna burn out. Want to know how I know?
I would like to take this opportunity to shoulder a bit of the blame hurled around in the current Battle of the Generations. Whatever my assigned generational designation might be (“X”), I know for certain one egregious sin that we all committed willfully, en masse.
Ten years ago, one of the greatest moments of my life happened. It seems almost like a dream now.
I made a movie and it showed at the Plaza in the city. For one night; April 1st, 2009. People paid to see it and everything, on the great big screen, yet.
This is kind of a first for me; I don’t know whether to recommend this movie to you or warn you away from it. At the time of this writing it has held me in emotional torment for three days straight.
It aroused feelings in myself akin to those experienced when seeing Watership Down for the very first time, or Last House on the Left. I state with all sincerity: I don’t know how to react to it.
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