Since Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty are going to represent the Oscar for best film this year, in honor of the 50th anniversary of Bonnie and Clyde failing to win any major Oscars, I thought I would celebrate this, nihilism’s most fabulous celebration of itself yet (those occasional Sex Pistols’ reunions, always being minus Sid Vicious, the only one stupid or committed enough to off himself, are bound to go on paling by comparison), by linking back to my 2014 mini-reviews of both Bonnie and Clyde and The Miracle Worker.

I don’t usually get this lazy. But the open war between Donald Trump and the Security State has left me exhausted from fiercely resisting the temptation to start a political blog (don’t worry, I’ll fight it off in the end…I know when it’s the Devil calling), and finding it a little hard to concentrate on my usual insistence on celebrating all that is Great and Good in the face of Imminent Doom.

One thing which came up in my modest research to assure myself that I had my facts straight on what exactly Beatty and Dunaway would be presenting, was the reminder that Dunaway’s performance-for-the-ages in Bonnie and Clyde lost Best Actress to Katherine Hepburn in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.

Dissing terrible Oscar choices is not something I usually go for and nothing against that fabulous Yankee-est-Yankee-Ever Miss Kate. But if anybody wants to suggest that might be the worst, most gutless snub of all time, they won’t get any argument from me.

The girl from Two Egg was robbed (as she would be again on Chinatown)!

And the one they threw at her for doing what any good actress could have done in Network ain’t no kind of makeup.

As we say in North Florida...That’s all’s I’m sayin’!

NEVER TRUST A NIHILIST…(Found in the Connection: Rattling Loose End #98)

…Way too many of them live to be 70.

And except for the true imbeciles, like Sid Vicious, and the truly lost, like Kurt Cobain, they’ll self-negate on you every time and turn into Show Biz Lifers, smiling on and watching you from afar.

Here’s John Waters (of Pink Flamingos fame), from the Feb. 13 edition of The Guardian, on the recent re-release of his first movie Multiple Maniacs:

“I’m not saying it hasn’t dated; it’s dated in way that it might be more appalling today than it was then. It was a punk rock movie. I look back on it now and think: ‘Oh my God, all this stuff about killing cops – not even the most radical group would say anything like that today.’ And you forget, in the 60s, ‘Off The Pig’ was a common slogan on a march, which is shocking today to look back on.”

Apparently, last summer’s rallying cry of “Pigs in a blanket, fry ’em like bacon!” passed Waters by, as did the subsequent rash of assassinations of police officers (not a few of them black) which were only inspired by today’s “radicals” if you took one or two of the assassins at their word. Then again, Waters is a life-long resident of Baltimore, so it’s not like the descent into hell he longed for has come anywhere near his neighborhood. Easy to see how he missed it. I’m betting he can claim some of his best friends are black. And if he can’t, it’s only because the world is so racist.

Found the piece through a hard right site of course. Nihilists always resonate with their own kind.

The faker the better.

Me, I always prefer an answer record.