So posts will be sparse this month. Dougie's busy writing, and I'm still recovering from seeing Quantum of Solace. I mean really; I pay $10 to see a James Bond movie, I expect Daniel Craig to take his shirt off for more than 45 seconds. I can get car chases, fist fights, stunt work, and confusing plots in any action movie. When I go to see Daniel Craig play 007, I expect some serious man-nipples screen time. Danny, why work so hard to pump up those pecs if you're not going to show them off?
One of my daily habits these days is a bit of net-surfing, checking out other flogs. I always enjoy a visit to By Ken Levine for instance. Another I often check out is called Electronic Cerebrectomy, which you'll find at http://samuraifrog.blogspot.com/ . I first found it by Googling "Electronic Cerebrectomy," after a doctor recommended I have one.
So I was visiting it today, and Froggy had posted a list of his 20 Favorite Actresses, and I was appalled to find I wasn't on the list!!! Can you imagine? These 20 hags, living and dead, weren't/aren't stars. They are at best, asteroids. So let me run through his list, and wise him and all of you up.
That no-talent SLUT Joan Crawford is on Froggy's list and not ME????? Did she come back from her grave and blow him? Because she will. All you have to do is look in a mirror and say her name three times and she appears, mouth open. Don't do it in a small space, as you need a lot of shoulder pad room. There's a special word that was coined just to describe Joan's acting. The word is "Fakey." Joan couldn’t communicate an honest emotion if her life depended on it. You see, an actress like Joan, and I use the term quite loosely, has no access to her emotions. She put so much dedication into hiding her true self, and creating a completely synthetic persona, that her emotions were all damned up deep inside. Admittedly, given what her true self was like, it was probably a wise decision on her part, but that’s not important right now. However, she was one hell of a babysitter. Back in the 1930s, when I would tell my toddler daughter Pattycakes that Joan was coming to babysit, she would shriek and scream her lungs out with delight.
All face. No chops. And boring to talk to. She wanted to be alone, but believe me, when you were with her, it was like being alone. Even she didn't like being with her.
You know why Spence never left his wife and married her? Because he cut his face on her cheekbones. She used a knife sharpener on them daily.
I liked her at parties. She based her performance as Nora Charles in The Thin Man on ME! but we had a falling out when she played my step-daughter in Fu Manchu's Blessed Event. She kept telling me to go "Fu" myself. What does that mean? I don't speak Chinese.
Some talent perhaps, but too much of a shrinking violet to ever be a real Star. I kept telling her, "Bette darling, assert yourself. Don't be so shy." I don't know if she heard me, or if she was even there. She traveled around in such a thick cloud of cigarette smoke that she was like a portable fog bank. But there's nothing like being impossible to see to make you look younger. And I was a much better Baby Jane than she was when I played Jane Hudson onstage in 1974 in the musical version: BJ!
Okay, she was extremely nice to Little Dougie when he met her, and even arranged for him to meet Margaret Hamilton (It's typical of Little Dougie that he was more excited to meet Margaret Hamilton than Jean Simmons.), but did you see Jean in that awful Scandinavian ghost story she was in with Larry Olivier, Hamlet? I couldn't figure out what the hell she was talking about. The damn thing needed subtitles. And then, when she joined KISS, she just wore way too much make up!
Well for starters, she stole her private life from ME! I had been married to a long list of men (in fact, a longer list of men.) before Liz was even born. And all that Anti-AIDS crusading she's done that makes her such a saint in so many people's eyes: it's all just grandstanding. Sure, I could devote all my time to raising money to find a cure for a deadly horrible disease, but I'm not so selfish!
This still is from her thriller Niagara. She's never looked better than she does in this photo. But Marilyn an actress? Please. Tits are not talent, although I can tie mine in knots, and kick them over my shoulders. That's one hell of a talent! And frankly, Marilyn is all washed up these days. When was the last time she made a movie? She's not dead. She just started that rumor because she's too vain to let fans see how she looks now. It's Garbo all over again, only with boobs.
Well, now I know he's not serious. Even Shirley MacLaine isn't a fan of Shirley MacLaine. Warren Beatty has finally confessed that she's not his sister at all. He was just telling people that to explain why Shirley was the only female in California he hadn't hit on, when the real reason was that he couldn't stand listening to her screechy voice any more than anyone else. Given how ear-splitting she is when she's just (over) "acting," imagine what her orgasms must sound like? I'd rather hear one of Senator Fran Drescher's filibusters. Plus, Shirley's insane. In fact, her next book will be titled Off The Deep End. (BTW, while Fran has Hilary's senate seat sewn up, there's still time for you to become senator from Illinois. Just place a bid. It's up on eBay.)
Well, I'll grant you her, though she should still be listed below me. I'd turn Lez for her. And judging from how she's leering at Mrs. Harkitay's boobs in this picture, Sophia would be ready, willing, and able to Lez me right back. But again, half the time in her films I can't understand a word she says. And she's such a dowdy frump! What about beauty? Doesn't that count anymore?
When does she get time to act while running the empire, secretly arranging the murders of her daughters-in-law, and launching ships? But in Caligula, when Malcolm McDowell performed unfaked oral sex on her onscreen? Now that was some fine acting!
SIR JUDI DENCH.
Get a clue. These are supposed to be actresses, not actors. Sir Judi is a man! Honestly, haven't you read any of the James Bond novels? M is a man!
Okay, she's sort of good, in a hot-woman-who-can-also-act sort of way, but until she stops deliberately standing between me and Tim Robbins, who is fated to be my One Great Love, she is a pariah! She is anathema! Was she Thelma or Louise? I can never keep them, pardon the expression, straight.
Out-acted by special effects. Her Uncle Doodles had all the talent in that family.
How can you insult Ken Branagh by honoring the trash he threw out on today of all days, his birthday? (Happy Birthday Ken. I know you read my every comment because you worship me. I can't blame you.)
Oh please, gentlemen. Just because she went down on the Titanic doesn't mean she'll do the same for you, unless you're seriously younger than she is.
Same cheekbone problem as Hepburn, and she's not even a human. She's an elf! Plus, she's so stupid, she doesn't even know how to spell her own name! Case closed. The fact that she's a brilliant actress doesn't even enter into it.
Who the hell is she? Never heard of her. Is she an actress or a continent? I'm an actress and I'm incontinent! (The photo is a placeholder. Someone said she's sexy, and always putting her hands on her boobs, so I took Lon Chaney in a similar pose, because he's a total dreamboat.)
Excuse me? She was Shakespeare's wife. She's been dead for 400 years, like Eddie Fisher's career. To paraphrase Joe Mankiewicz, all actresses should be dead for 400 years, except me of course. The actresses flanking gorgeous Charlie Hunnam in this photo from Nicholas Nickleby are Anne Hathaway and Dame Edna Everage, but I'll be damned if I can remember which one is which. Maybe if I could take my eyes off of Chuck.
Watch this space darlings, for an exciting announcement Christmas Week. I'm not saying what. I'll just give a one-word clue: "Arianna."