Bama Llama

Lalo smirks too much to be allowed to live. He dies tonight, but at whose hand(s)? a. Mike b. Nacho c. Gus d. Kim d. Saul

Laszlo to bandleader: "Play La Marseillaise. Play it!" Bandleader: (Looks at Rick.) Rick: (Nods.) Thence commences IMO the most moving sequence in film. If you don't feel it in your heart, you ain't human, Joe. It's the high water mark of American cinema. I'm talking about that instant when the cast sings "Aux arms, citoyens! Armez vos battalions!"

You are so right. Blake Edwards at his best, nearly every scene a gem. The pastor, the dentist, the shrink, the hedonist across the valley from Dudley, the great Julie Andrews fer chrissake . . . , Robert "Ole Stick" Webber, Sam (Flash Gordon) Jones, Dee (the Howling) Wallace, Mrs. Kissell breaking wind and the poor great dane. All witnesses to what happens when a middle-aged man is suddenly enslaved by an obsession. But what a sublime obsession. Beauty is truth and truth beauty. That is all ye know on Earth and all ye need to know.

If I had me last double Dalwhinnie, I'd pour it all oot on the groond fer ya, big mon, and slowly. Those of you of a certain age remember when you saw 10 the first time. You're lying if you say you didn't identify with Dudley Moore's character. And who was his perfect consigliere actoss the bar? Mr. Dennehy fitting into that role like a virus glove. After Bo and Dudley, Brian's understated role made that movie for me. And then decades later he got to squeeze on that fine body in Tommy Boy. Sorry to know you've rung down the curtain but thank you for making my life better for the stories you put before my eyes and ears. Cue the Ravel, maestro.

For me BCS is a great sensual, audible, visual pleasure, similar to a fine meal or fine scotch or fine sex (I know, Woody, every orgasm is pretty much right on the money; but the sex quality varies). Yet the feel of each episode is unique because you never know what the shit is about to happen, such as a petite woman getting in the face of a stone killer cartel capo and showing him the door. Now godammit, only one episode remains.

Eloi, meet Morlocks. Imagine no religion, indeed. Jesus H. - wait.

Remember early in the episode when Saul appeared to be doomed beyond all hope, as El Thug Jefe signaled throat slash to the thug near Saul, and the screen was artfully filled with the business end of a large caliber handgun? How was it Mike came to be in good position to save Saul from certain death? Wasn't the money pickup point over twenty miles from the highway? I'll buy that Mike evaluated the route and positioned himself accordingly, but a shrewd dude like Saul might at least have made the observation and given Mike credit later on when things semi-settled down. I realize Saul was in shock for a good while there. "Hindsight is 50/50." --Pat Dye

As Saul was driving back singing to himself after picking up the money bags, before the hostile crew ever showed, I was thinking the Esteem was going to break down, leaving him in pretty much the same predicament (minus the killers and all). Would have been less exciting TV but an intriguing challenge all the same.

I nominate Dr. J for the President's Idiocracy Crisis Medical Advisory League of America, appearing on a screen near you at some point daily.

And Benny Hill's running the show. More from AL.com: "Christi Thornton, the city/county emergency management director, said the shipment of 5,880 procedure masks received last week were unusable because of dry rot. The masks had a 2010 expiration date, according to the city’s response to a survey by the U.S. Conference of Mayors." Where were they stored, under John Wayne Gacy's house?

P.S. - that was 5,000 of a total of 5,800 Ain't this a bitch

Good news! Your PPE just arrived from the national stockpile! From AL.com - "More than 5,000 medical masks that Montgomery County received from the national stockpile were rotted, the local emergency management director said Thursday."

Okay. You go first. Those fuckers give me the willies. They can spit that juice a long way. <<<<shhhhivvver>>>>

1. Big, fast, flying cockroaches. 2. These sonsabitches: https://www.google.com/search?q=lubber grasshopper poisonous url insert she no work but worth a look - Eastern Lubber Grasshopper Winged, wicked, vile, poisonous tobacco juice spitting alien spawn demons

The only thing I like about Trump was the way he went through the field of Republican candidates four years back. Now, Trump is the Jaws mayor saying "Come on out to the beach, everybody!" and raising hell with Chief Brody because someone (the sane media) drew a big shark fin on the tourist billboard. This is NOT the right Easter to pack churches. I hope the White House doesn't host an Easter egg hunt. Time for common sense. Learn from South Korea.

I am a seriously biased Fab4phile, grew up with the Beatles, rushed to buy every LP, saw them live in ATL two nights after Shea in '65, have 1965 Ludwigs, on and on. I reveled in Yesterday, but hell I reveled in Across the Universe. Saw Yesterday in a theater with a powerful sound system, which helped. I not aware of the Lennon cameo shock coming at the end. When the door to his beach cottage swung open, the audience gasped as one. The others and I were zoomed backward to December 8, 1980, just another day in the world of Yesterday. He was never murdered. Cosell never told the world about it on MNF. Don't mind telling you, the tears ran in that theater, and some of them were mine. If you lived the sixties and are now in yours, this film is worth your time. These guys did change the world and for the better. Bravo to the creators and players of this clever film.

Dale never did figure out why Joseph looked so much like John Redcorn. On the upside, the Gribbles would be well fixed for quarantine. Such a great series - bravo, Mike Judge.

Unexpected cosequences of this virus: Fast forward to June 1: Trump - Incapacitated or worse and unable to govern; succession triggered. Pence - ditto Next up - President Pelosi

A smile indeed. Bravo, No Time for Sergeants. "Last name first, first name middle name last." Thus, Stockdale Will Will Stockdale. Don't know what happened to his middle name. My snarky repartee conoisseur bride's favorite line: Army Shrink to Stockdale: "Your father: LIVING?" A true gem.

And when the door to the house on the seashore opens, your brain inverts like the zoom in shot on Roy Scheider at the beach in Jaws. Well done, beautiful film. Viva Los Beatles!

And when the door to the house on the seashore opens, your brain inverts like the zoom in shot on Roy Scheider at the beach in Jaws. Well done, beautiful film. Viva Los Beatles!

The audience were loffing!

Not bad for censored network TV.

Bravo the above - also Have Gun Will Travel.

Once had a narrow escape at one of these checkpoints. We were also in a Tahoe, as it were. It was the Saturday after the 2010 Rose Bowl. My wife and I and my wife's ditzy girlfriend and her husband were eastbound on I-10, having just passed through El Paso. Guys in front, ladies in back. Everyone euphoric but exhausted. The 80-mph speed limit sign went by, I set cruise control and settled back for miles of mesquite scrub. Suddenly brake lights were popping on ahead, traffic cones blocked the whole highway and all lanes had to exit. Law enforcement vehicles were everywhere to prevent turning off or going aroung the cones. We had no contraband. We were routed to a ten acre asphalt tract of painted lanes, stop signs, pullout and exit the vehicle stations, and dozens of guys in kevlar vests, fatigues and big submachine guns, sniffer dogs, guys with mirrors in sticks, the whole schmeer. We had nothing to fear but the whole scene felt like a Far Side trouble brewing moment. I told my just awakening sleepy comrades, "Say NOTHING about the game unless you want to be here for hours having your cavities searched and repacking the car. Many of these guys are Texas fans or lost money on the game, so don't say anything stupid." We pulled up at a stop point and one unsmiling officer/agent grilled us for a couple of minutes while his partner did a walk around. I was worried about the Alabama plate and big crimson UA Alumni decal on the windshield. I suddenly saw further scrutiny, i.e., unpacking the car, more questions, and a long trip growing longer. Just as quickly the walk around guy gave the thumbs up to the interrogator, who had been leaning in through both driver side windows, looking and I guess sniffing while talking and listening. My three riders were calm and cool answering questions. The guy was strictly business, mad or bored or both. His hands were on his submachine gun the whole time. Finally, he took a step back and without another word motioned me forward to freedom. He and his partner turned to the next vehicle. I put up my window and put the vehicle in gear. We had rolled about ten feet. I was wondering why the ditsy friend behind me had not put up her window, when I heard a commotion in the back seat. Then I saw movement in the left rear view mirror. Then, I saw a lot of crimson and white. Then I saw my wife's crazy ass girlfriend hanging the upper half of her lanky 5'9" self completely out the window with two Bama shakers waving wildly in each hand, yelling at the top of her lungs, "Rollllll Tide! Rollllllll Tide!" My eyes went to mirror. I saw the two officers' heads whip around. My wife was cussing at her girlfriend, trying to pull her back in and the husband was making guttural, profane noises through clenched teeth. I was saying SHUTTHEFUCKUP GODDAMMIT PUTDOWNTHE FUCKINGSHAKERS or words to that effect. Just like the Tide, we were fortunate with the way things turned out. The inspectors shrugged and went on to the next car, we pulled Ditzo back in and enjoyed the long drive back. Ditzo and hubby divorced soon after, though. I have to think the Internal Border Inspection adventure was a catalyst. It was stressful finding yourself under close inspection by guys holding machine guns, all without warning other than a portable sign a few hundred yards west of the exit.