Run Down Feeling

Actually, we're feeling just fine but we ran out of time to get much of anything done today. Which is just as well since we really hadn't come up with a red hot joke about Kelly Anne Conway possibly violating the Hatch Act (yawn) by expressing political opinions out loud.

And so we present you with our usual fallback. And in this case, a fall seems almost certain...

Just Another Manic Pun Day

Wait! Please hold your groans until all of the cartoons have appeared...

Okay, NOW you can groan. Although chances are pretty good that you were already groaning after stocks nosedived about 500 points when Trump announced his new tariff on imported steel and aluminum.

We don't personally have the economic insights to address the tariff with any expertise, but sources we usually respect - like the Wall Street Journal - are calling the tariff a yuge mistake. It will unquestionably raise the cost of many consumer items, perhaps negating the effects of the tax cut for some people, and may actually lose more American jobs than it creates.

Or maybe it will be a gigantic success, because who the heck can predict the outcome of any bare-knuckle dust-up between Trump and Reality these days?

For now, all we can do is watch, wait, and beg your forgiveness for the puns above.

Filmy Residue

Please tell us you recognize Oscar Wilde...

Sunday sees the annual return of the biggest alleged event in entertainment: the Oscars, wherein the creme de la creme of Hollywood glitterati will be honored for their latest and greatest achievements in hastening the decline of Western civilization.

Along with the awarding of golden statuettes which probably won't be used as sex toys, viewers can look forward to being scolded about the sin of seeing women as sexual objects by women whose actual sexual objects are bursting out of their designer gowns.

There will also likely be more than a few stern words spoken (accompanied by tears after plucking out a nostril hair offscreen) condemning guns by thespians who make millions by pretending to shoot dozens of blood-geysering people onscreen, then retreat to their mansions surrounded by heavily armed guards.

Politics aside, we suppose there might be some recognition of actual artistic merit, but we don't actually care because we haven't seen any of the nominated pictures. Why? Because the whole experience of visiting movie theaters sucks these days.

The prices are insane, there are always going to be 2 or 3 trailers which attack conservative values, and audiences have no concept of how to put their smartphones away and - oh yeah! - shut the hell up while the movie is playing.

Seriously, people who annoy us in movie theaters bring out homicidal tendencies which we're usually pretty good at suppressing. Which is why we weren't entirely without sympathy when reading the recent story of a woman, Shameeka Latrice Lynch, who attended a showing of "Black Panther" and got into an argument with another patron about who had the right to an assigned seat.  When rhetoric failed to resolve the issue, Shameeka hauled a pistol out of her purse and fired a round into the theater's ceiling.

But here's what bothers us: in all of the news stories about this regrettable incident, no one has reported whether or not it was actually her damn seat. Frankly, if some dirtbag was squatting in her reserved seat and refused to move, we think she's got a case.

In any event, this is why we wait for films to reach streaming outlets where we can enjoy them in the peace and quiet of our own homes, except when gunplay erupts over who'll get the best seat. And very rarely, we've even been known to venture out to the local Dollar Cinema (we're a lot more receptive to most movies when we're not out $30 before the show even starts) for the earliest showing on a weekday. Not only are the theaters mostly empty, but the few attendees tend to be retired folks who have the courtesy to either stay silent or simply fall asleep while gumming their popcorn.

So good luck to Hollywood, and may they enjoy their big night and the drug-fueled, sex-crazed parties afterwards. Most of which would probably make for more entertaining viewing than the dreck which actually hits the silver screens.

The Rhett Butler Memorial Dam.