Tag: George Clooney

APT.

Thursday and my last day in the office for this week, and I actually worked in the clinic every day this week, including today! Look at me going hard, right?

Speaking of which, I’ve learned so many new things about the Right since last week’s murder on campus that I really did not need to know. I had a vague idea of what a groyper was; I also knew it involved that stupid frog image. I did know what an incel was, too, but I had no fucking idea how far out there it got, and while I could have easily gone for the rest of my life happily not being aware of any of this shit, well, now I know. I don’t think it has made me any smarter or more knowledgeable. The “transmaxxing”1 stuff? Holy fuck-balls, Batman! I think I’m just going to file all of this knowledge I gained without my complete consent under “Things I Will NEVER Understand” in my memory file cabinet. Hopefully this will be one of those things I forget.

But it never works quite like that, does it?|

And to think, I went down that wormhole thinking it might make an interesting background for some fiction. Yeah, no fucking thanks.

I’m tired this morning–and while mentally I am fine, physically I feel some fatigue. I was pretty worn out when I got home from work yesterday, read more of the manuscript (lord, the revisions are going to be a bitch and a half), and hung out with the Cuddle-bug kitty before watching the season premiere of The Morning Show, which opens in the summer of 2024, pre-Olympics…a period that will be interesting to revisit. It also set me to thinking about 2024 in a reflective, detached way; certainly there has been some distance (it does seem like another lifetime ago, doesn’t it?) and remembering again why I hate George Clooney with an undying, white-hot passion that will never cool. Remember that asshole and his op-ed in the New York Times last summer? And as authoritarian censorship starts to take hold in the country–thanks again, George! How is this regime working out for you in your Italian country estate? Oh, yes, that’s right– you’re rich enough that nothing really changes for you and you never have consequences, shithead. I also have noted that he’s been silent about politics and the state of the world ever since then. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Always remember his tax bracket is the one doing the best under this regime.2

There seems to be a plethora of things for us to watch over the course of the weekend; it’s always lovely when a show we enjoy returns.

I generally am not one to get emotional over the death of a celebrity, and at most, I feel a pang of oh that’s a shame. Robert Redford’s death announcement was one of those; he lived a very long life, kept his private life very private, and had some views I agreed with. I also enjoyed his film work, and always thought he was underrated because he made it look easy and he was stunningly beautiful; it is very rare when someone is that good-looking to be taken seriously as an actor. Maybe I’ll rewatch The Sting tomorrow while doing quality assurance. I saw that in the theater back when it was in release, and really enjoyed it. I did see some Redford films during my Cynical 70’s Film Festival during the pandemic (Three Days of the Condor, The Candidate, and All the President’s Men), and became even more impressed with his ability to command the screen and deliver a layered performance that was believable. (I also love The Way We Were, despite some of my misgivings about the plot and story and characters; maybe someday I’ll do a longer essay about The Way We Were.)

There will never be another Robert Redford, for sure.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning!

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  1. Please–take my word for it and do not look this up, tempting as it may be. ↩︎
  2. Same with Susan Sarandon, may she rot in hell for eternity. ↩︎

I’ll Be Around

Tuesday! How you doing, everyone? I’m feeling better every day. I was a little lower energy than I would have liked over the weekend, but it’s a process, isn’t it? I’m also sleeping very well, despite the return of the heat and the humidity and their combined assault on my sinuses. It’s frightening that it’s still relatively early June and it’s this hot already. Going outside yesterday was absolutely miserable. I stopped on the way home to make groceries, and was sweating lugging the bags in from the car. Sigh. Today I need to swing by the post office on the way home, too.

Yesterday was a pretty good day overall. I woke up feeling pretty good, and managed to make it through the day feeling good (other than when I was lugging the groceries in). I now weigh 198, back up from those frighteningly low weights from the illness, and I am also not as hungry all the time as I used to be, or thinking about food constantly? I think my body recognizes what weight I should be–around 200–and was thus convincing me to want to eat more to get back to that weight. I’d like to stay here, honestly; I think this is a good weight for me, and if I can maintain it as I get stronger and keep healing…maybe when I am able to get back into the gym and start working out regularly again, I can get myself into decent shape again. It won’t be easy and it will take longer than it ever did before, because I’m older and my body has been traumatized a lot in the last few years, but I have to remember the patience I am learning with this recovery.

I actually did some more writing yesterday, too–I know, right?–and it went rather well. I am trying to push myself to get a short story written for a submission call that closes soon–there are two others I want to get to by the end of the month, we’ll see how that goes, won’t we? The problem, of course, is short stories don’t pay much so the financial incentive isn’t really there to motivate me, and since it’s an open call no one will care if I don’t finish the stories and turn them in to see what happens with them. But I do want to publish more short stories, and there are so many I have on hand that need to be worked on and revised and rewritten and/or finished. I have so many that I wrote for a submission call that I never turned in–or finished, so I have a lot of story fragments that need to be finished. There are a couple of calls that I have something on hand already that may work, but needs to be revised and/or finished. And I do want to submit to the conference anthologies; nothing ventured, nothing gained. I didn’t write anything for the New Orleans Bouchercon anthology this year, because I am still kind of bitter about not being allowed to submit to the Minneapolis one in case people wouldn’t think I cheated to get my story in, if I did get in–as if I would ever do such a fucking thing; I really don’t like having my integrity challenged and insulted like that, and yes, I do take that kind of shit personally. How is being told people would think I’d cheat to publish a short story not impugning my character and insulting who I am as a professional?

I’d rather not publish something, rather than do so by cheating the system.

And to me, the people who’d accuse me of such a thing are the kind of people who would do exactly that. That isn’t how my mind works. I guess I had better parents than y’all. I don’t know, I guess having integrity is something no one cares about anymore? Well, I do care about it, and if that makes me old-fashioned, I can live with it. I am old, after all.

I’ve really been missing my friend Victoria Brownworth these past few weeks, as the country continues to circle the drain as our democracy slips through our fingers, aided and abetted by the pathetic pieces of collaborationist quisling shit known as the today’s legacy media. Her emails and reporting would have been lit. She was one of the few journalists whose reporting I trusted, and now she is gone. This is why I no longer subscribe to any newspapers on-line and why I do not watch CNN or MSNBC–and why I will never watch anything with that pretentious fuck George Clooney in it ever again. I wasn’t a fan of the asshole to begin with, but occasionally he might make a film over the years where he actually had to do something besides play himself and mug for the camera that I might have been interested in seeing–but no more. The irony that after that bullshit editorial he wrote for the New York Slimes last summer that he was nominated for a Tony for playing Edward R, Murrow was almost perfect; Murrow was a true journalist while Clooney played a role in the downfall of the country.

They are not the same.

Clooney, you’re not fit to lick the shit out of Murrow’s asshole, and you’ll never be anything other than a craven piece of shit who did his best to throw the election to Trump, before escaping to your villa in Italy with your wife. The Reign of Terror, for the record, eventually urned on everyone. I hope you have your day in front of the tribunals.

But after getting my chores done and some writing, Paul and I watched another episode of The Survivors, and I am thinking I may need to add Jane Harper to my list of authors to check out. The show is quite excellent, and cinematically shot in a very stunningly beautiful location, and the way everyone’s lives are knitted together and knotted by misery and tragedy is quite extraordinary. It’s a terrific show, really.

I didn’t get much chance to read last night, alas and alack. But that’s okay; there’s only so much time in a day and I refuse to berate myself or get down on myself about not getting enough stuff done every day anymore. Life will try to knock me down enough on its own without me creating more anxiety and stress for myself, and I don’t ever want to be back in that horrible place I was in, emotionally, before the illness reboot. I am feeling good about my life and both careers (day job and writing), and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again probably tomorrow.

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Count Me In

Work at home Friday! I have to go have blood work done at noon, so I am going to do my errands then–get the mail, hit the grocery store, wash and clean out the car–before coming back home to finish my work-at-home duties for the day. It shouldn’t take long, methinks; Wednesday night I managed to do my errands and make groceries in under an hour after I got off work. I left the office that night just after five, and figured it would take me about two hours to do everything and get home. I walked into the apartment at six, which was pretty impressive efficiency. Well, I was impressed.

I was tired yesterday when I got off work, but had committed to the party so when I left the office, dragging and really just wanting to hang out in my chair with Sparky, I forced myself to get up and go get cleaned up and ready. I always dread these things, always, but inevitably always have a good time once I actually am there. I hate getting ready and getting there, in all honesty. I did some chores before I left the apartment, and Sparky got some sleepy time in my lap before I got ready. But sadly I was dragging a bit, and knew I wouldn’t last long once I got to the party. I haven’t left the house at night in the car to go anywhere in a very long time, and I did go to the Marigny the way I always used to (side note: while I often regret and miss our old office on Frenchmen Street, taking the way I always used to go to work made me very glad I no longer work on Frenchmen and have to deal with negotiating the CBD and the Quarter every evening to come home)–yeesh, what a horror it was driving–so much so that when I came home I went to Claiborne and got ont the highway. The party itself was really nice–the house, which used to be a Satanic temple, I think, was also very interesting. John Cameron Mitchell’s residence is the very top floor, and I am actually kind of curious about the house now, which is called the Temple1. (side note: I can’ believe how much the Marigny has changed in the years since we moved to the Elysian Fields office, but it’s been a very long time since I have driven to the other side of Elysian Fields and gone into the Marigny.) I saw some people I wanted to see, got to see the house, and of course didn’t take any pictures. I stayed for an hour, which is an accomplishment. The live music was amazing, and the food was terrific. I was driving so I didn’t have anything to drink, and came home to change into something comfortable and to relax (and watch The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City) before going to bed. I slept later this morning than I usually do, too, but feel pretty good and will be ready to dive into the work-at-home spice mines relatively soon. The apartment is also a terrible mess; the stacks of dirty dishes here in the kitchen, not to mention the general disarray of the entire apartment, needs to be worked on today.

I never did make a to-do list, either–which means I need to make one today, one for the weekend and one through Thanksgiving (Paul is leaving on Tuesday), and start crossing things off. I want to get more writing done this weekend–I want to finish that short story and start editing Scotty, maybe even finish another essay and perhaps even dive into some other writing, too. I also know it’s an ambitious plan for the weekend and I may just decide meh, let me vegetate in my easy chair with Sparky and blow off a day, as I so often do. That’s also fine, too.

More lighter fluid keeps getting squirted on the dumpster fire that is the country/world now, and I am veering between optimism and pessimism about the future–I often descend into gallows humor, as is my wont–as a method of dealing with the existential nightmare we are being unwillingly dragged into. I’m not sure what it says about me that I always deal with these sorts of things by laughing at them, even when they truly aren’t funny; but that’s what happens when you grow up gay in a homophobic society. Legacy media continues to swirl around the toilet bowl, capitulating in advance as their ratings and subscription rates continue to fall deservedly. Their corporate masters decided that it was better for their ratings to be Leaders of the Opposition to get those monster ratings they had during the first term again, so they betrayed their viewers by doing everything they could to throw the election to the Right, rubbing their monstrous little hands with glee while they watched their potential ratings and advertising revenue shoot up again. We’re the Resistance and we’re here for you! Alas, they severely overestimated their importance and the ignorance of their viewers/readers. We saw them betray us, again and again, playing a long game that wasn’t actually a game for many of their audience. When they shivved Biden this past summer, starting with that faux-liberal piece of shit George Clooney (who lives in fucking Italy) in his “I’m so much smarter than anyone else with progressive credentials” arrogance writing that disgusting editorial in the New Yuck Times and has been completely invisible since he accepted his thirty pieces of silver. (I laugh every time Apple TV tries to push his latest film on me. No thanks, never thought he was very talented or handsome, and still think he did his best work on The Facts of Life and Roseanne.) But Paul and I have our exit plan if it comes to that. I know, man plans and God laughs, but it makes me feel better.

I cannot believe the fall/winter holidays are upon us already. Madness! But it has been a year, hasn’t it? Heavy heaving sigh. I should go fold those clothes, so on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get some more coffee, too. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and who knows if I’ll be back again before tomorrow morning? It’s a mystery!

  1. There are so many cool and interesting places in New Orleans! I’ve lived her for almost thirty years now and still find new to me cool spots all the time. ↩︎

Take a Giant Step

Seriously, what the actual fuck, George Clooney? I was never really a fan, but you’re a fucking asshole. For one thing, you’re a rich straight white man who lives in Italy with a wife who’s half your age. Trump wins and you’re going to be just fine, so miss me with your “macro” concern for the country. Gays, women, and minorities NEED for the Democrats to win this election; Project 2025 quite literally spells out what they are going to do to us. And once they start mass deportations and have all those internment camps just sitting there waiting for people…well, deportation is hard and messy and complicated, why not add some Nazi showers and ovens and be done with the whole problem right there? And if you think queer people aren’t on the list, what color is the sky in your fucking world? It really upsets me when narcissistic trash like George Clooney suddenly decide that their opinion is so smart and so important and matters so much that he has to spew bullshit in the New York fucking Treason Times.

You’re dead to me, George. Take an acting class sometime. It couldn’t hurt. And maybe learn some fucking humility, you arrogant piece of smug shit. So you’re worried and millions of votes should not matter anymore because George is uncomfortable and “concerned”. We threw out King George III 250 years ago; and you sir, are NO George III. Fuck you, shut up, and keep your skanky ass in Italy. I guarantee you any project you appear in I will review bomb with one-stars. You deserve to lose everything, you arrogant piece of shit. Will you wrinkle your brow and feel shame?

Or are you just that fucking fond of your tax cuts, Richie Rich?

It has not been missed by me that the only people calling for Biden to step aside are all rich, white and straight. Coincidence? I think not. Which is why you can never trust rich liberals–right, Susan Sarandon? Their narcissism and smug sense of superiority will always pick their money over vulnerable populations.

Nothing makes me sicker to my stomach than a limousine liberal. I’ll never forget that witch Susan Sarandon manhandling Dolores Huerta, who has shit out more progressive acts than Sarandon has ever done in her entire cosplay liberal acting life, for not supporting Bernie in 2016 and then claiming DOLORES FUCKING HUERTA is a part of the “establishment.” Does she even realize she’s mouthing the language of 60s anti-war protestors that no one else has used in over fifty years?

Then again, she’s old and should probably step aside for someone younger who can do the job better.

What’s amazing to me is how straight white people always get so defensive when their allyship is questioned. Is there anything worse that a mediocre straight white man who is so convinced of his own importance that he just has to express his opinion, which is so much more important than anyone else’s because he had relatives in the business and some desperately sad women thought he was hot? Where’s that Jim Jordan exposé documentary you promised us years ago? Yeah, that’s what I thought: sell out. Straight white people cannot ever be trusted to not throw everyone else under the bus, and the richer they are the more likely it is.

As a gay man, I’ve watched the Democratic Party throw us under the bus “because it wasn’t time” so many times that I understand the impatience of other minority groups when progress doesn’t move fast enough. I’m so inured and immune to it that it’s really hard for me to not expect disappointment from my fellow progressives. But this? This isn’t the party heirarchy. It’s not the rank and file voters. It’s CNN, MSNBC, New York Times, and The Washington Post, and it’s definitely coastal elites driving all of this. Go fuck yourselves. You jettisoned Hillary’s candidacy in 2016, which put us into the situation we are in now. We should be ending the last year of her second term, and we’d still have Roe, regulations, and a President who is not above the law.

But you just wouldn’t listen, would you?

And even now, as they undermine the President and his reelection campaign, when he doesn’t step down and if he does en up losing, they won’t take any responsibility for the fascism they’ve loosed on all of us, and will smugly assert “well, that’s what they deserve for not dropping the President,” you know, the Susan Sarandon playbook.

And for the record, a thousand curses on all of you. History will not be kind to you for abetting the fall of the United States. But you’ll be long dead by then–along with the mound of graves for anyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender Christian.

Seriously, such beautiful eyes….