March 13, 2011 · 10:53 pm
Research for my hagiography-in-progress of Eliot Spitzer continued last night with a screening of Client 9: The Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer, a companion piece to The Inside Job, which I blogged about in an earlier post. Regardless of its sensational title, Client 9 isn’t really about hookers and the politicians who love them. It’s about the worms at the heart of the recent financial crisis, which is now clearly as much of a scandal as it is a crisis, and one man’s crusade to try to eradicate those heartworms.
The hero Spitzer. I brook no criticism of him. If I were truly cheesy, or maybe just a bit more meshugana, I'd Photoshop a halo behind his head.
Spitzer ferreted out the corruption at AIG early on, forcing the ouster of the execrable Hank Greenberg. It would seem from Client 9’s narrative and timeline that this began the process of Spitzer’s own demise at the hands of a cabal of venal old Wall Street and Albany Repubes, who are so unbelievably American Gargoyle that if I cast them in a fictional film about themselves, I would be hauled up by critics for not understanding the nuances of performance, for having brought to the screen unbelievably contrived, Silent Era performativity of nefariousness.
I cannot describe in a blog such as this, which aspires to be as light and fluffy as a Galliano tulle ball gown, just how hamfistedly Machiavellian, how egregiously mendacious, how plain physically repulsive these crotchety codgers are. You just have to see it yourself. As for their minions … my landlady, the Wicked Blais, would be envious.
The hero himself admits right from the start that it was hubris that brought him down. He compares himself to Icarus. This is no delusional Charlie Sheen narcissist, nor does he possess that most nauseating of personality traits, false humility. For a man like this — brilliant, successful beyond most people’s wildest aspirations, did I mention sexy? — to own his hubris is humility enough. Continue reading →
Filed under Killough Chronicles, Reviews
Tagged as 1830 N. Cahuenga, AIG, Client 9, Eliot Spitzer, Financial Crisis, Hank Greenberg, Hollywood, Hookers, James Killough, Joe Bruno, Ken Langone, Schizophrenia, Susan Blais, The Inside Job, Wonderland Shooting
March 10, 2011 · 6:26 pm
According to my personal lexicon, a spineless dick is what I call a good friend who won’t go into overdraft to loan me more money. According to the Guardian, the scientific community is all a-flutter over the discovery that we men have shed the DNA responsible for allowing us to have spines in our penises like other mammals. The dickhead creationists will probably cite this lack of penile backbone as incontrovertible proof that we were actually created by God, not descended from apes through evolution. I say to them, Verily, thou shouldst have more faith in science than fruitloops juju mumbo jumbo, for hath not science replaced the penile backbone with Viagra? Is Pfizer not therefore divine?
Speaking of spineless dicks, I cannot resist reposting this image with a new caption:
Radical feminist poet and playwright Mama Muamah Gaddafi, author of “For Bedouin Girls, Who Have Considered Homicide When the Sand Dunes Are Too Ruff,” shows her followers that you don’t have to wear trousers to behave like a man.
I was right about the atrocities, they’re trickling out already: apparently Mama Gaddafi has swept out the dungeon and has been sharpening her knives and waxing the rack. Some BBC journalists she had a stab at are reporting widespread torture by Mama’s minions. Where does evil like that come from, do you suppose? I’ve been watching Lady Gaga’s new video over and over for the answers, but her creation myth is just as bat-shit loony as anyone else’s.
Continue reading →
Filed under Blog, Killough Chronicles
Tagged as Eliot Spitzer, Gaddafi, Ginger Baker, Hollywood, James Killough, Jay Bulger, Julie Taymor, New Anvil, Pure Film, pure film creative, Spider-Man, Spineless Penis, Susan Blais, The Inside Job