Sunday, 15 November 2020

Trump, Scandals, & Dreadful Hair Partings

 Memo to Donald Trump: 'Denial' is NOT that long river in Egypt, okay? 

I was just scrolling through my Twitter feed, and I saw a tweet from him, all in caps, verbatim:  'I WON THE ELECTION!' As you can imagine, my face was frozen into the confused rictus of 'Huh?' 

Listen, you delusional hybrid of a jackass and an Oompa-loompa: you DID NOT. You know something else? A major part of why you lost (along with your total buffoonery and jackassery and shitfuckery in general) is the first word in that tweet: 'I'. It's all 'I', 'I', 'I', or 'me', 'me', 'me' where you're concerned. You don't give a flying one about the people you purported to lead, it was all about YOU. There have been 246 thousand  Covid deaths under your joke of a governance. I cannot wait until you are removed from the White House, and I'm imagining you rasping and squawking along the lines of Napoleon XIV: 'They're coming to take me away, ha-ha...!' 

I'd suggest getting out of there with a skerrick of dignity whilst you still can, but that ship has sailed, hit an iceberg, and sunk.

I've had a rather relaxing weekend. I did some study and did some Netflix binge-watching. I watched a three-part miniseries titled A Very English Scandal. It is based on a true story about an English MP who stood trial for conspiring to have his gay ex-lover murdered. The trial occurred in 1979. SPOILER ALERT: it is prudent to point out the MP (Jeremy Thorpe) and his three co-accused were acquitted. Thorpe was the leader of the Liberal party and also ended up in two heterosexual marriages (not simultaneous ones - that would be another scandal). Thorpe was played by Hugh Grant, who showed some seriously good acting chops in this. He showed a range greater than the lovelorn fop he normally seems to play. Grant has stated that a lot of the acting credit should go to hair-and-makeup, but I was pretty impressed by him. He had a point regarding that hair - it was parted waaaaaaaaay over to the side and skimming the tip of his ear. Ray Martin would have seethed with hair-envy (or toupee-envy). That 'do and crisp private school accent reminded me of a night in my early twenties when I was attending a work function that was held at a restaurant/nightclub. The workplace was a law office and among the attendees was a barrister we regularly briefed. This guy had the Knox grammar tones and was at the time likely in his mid-forties. He also had the same hairdo sported by Hugh in that series. This night, I had been bopping away on the dance floor, which I really enjoyed doing before Father Time stole my energy and kneecaps. Anyway, I sat down for a breather and refreshment, and the barrister said, 'Do you exercise regularly, Simone? I couldn't help but notice you have an extremely good figure.' The plum stayed in his mouth, miraculously not flushed out by the salivating. I told him I did karate (wasn't trying to scare him; that was true). He said nothing else after that. 

Getting back to this miniseries, the young gay ex-lover was played by the impossibly delicious Ben Whishaw. He won some award (Bafta?) for the performance, and deservedly so. His portrayal of his character's anxiety was heart-wrenching. 

Well, I'm going to do some more study and watch the fourth season of The Crown, which is another series I'm going to devour. 

The study is paying off - that assessment I complained about a few posts ago? Credit! 

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