The eternal question: “Is there anything that Republicans and Democrats can agree about?”

The eternal answer: “Oh, sure. Infrastructure.”


It’s easy to see why this is the case. Infrastructure is sexy (see photo above). Infrastructure is just the kind of thing that feuding Americans can rally around, because it stirs strong feelings of patriotism, of what it truly means to be an American.


I propose that we establish National Infrastructure Day.

So let’s have a toast to infrastructure!




TV Updates


Perfume on Netflix –

It’s creepy and strange but very well-made and absorbing. Most of all, it feels … “foreign.”

That’s what worries me about all of these countries partnering with Netflix to produce content for the streaming service. I’m afraid that in order to reach a broader audience, they will feel pressure to “go Hollywood.”  I want them to remain strange and “foreign.”

Below, Natalia Belitski and friend doing creepy and strange in Germany’s Perfume.






Annihilation on the Epix free preview –

For about two-thirds of its run-time, Annihilation feels like director/writer Alex Garland has watched The Thing and/or Invasion of the Body Snatchers too many times. It’s very familiar stuff, just with chicks instead of dudes.

But Garland redeems himself in the final 20 minutes or so, in which he pours on some movie-making razzle-dazzle (including a killer soundtrack) and dishes up something to provoke the thoughts. It’s not 2001: A Space Odyssey, but it’s good enough to raise my grade from a B to a solid B+.




Here’s a question for Gillette, which made waves last week with a commercial attacking “toxic masculinity”: Have you ever seen a gathering of tipsy females at a bachelorette party?




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I’m thinking it might be time to hand the world back to high-school jocks. This “revenge of the nerds” thing isn’t working out so well.


Exhibit A:  I am watching Surviving R. Kelly on Lifetime, and it seems that the quiet, nerdish kid (above right) who grew up to become a powerful music mogul (above left) is … not well.


Exhibit B:  Geeky Mark Zuckerberg, who grew up to become an evil genius.


Sadly, the nerds don’t handle power well once they get it.

At least the jerk jocks have early experience with power and jerkdom, so they’re better at it once they reach adulthood. Plus, they have always been jerk jocks, so the rest of us have learned how to keep them in line.





Tulsi Gabbard:  Good-looking babe, but not enough personality.



Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez:  Good-looking babe, but too much personality.





That fake photo of “Ocasio-Cortez” in the bathtub – if you zoom in on the faucet, you can clearly see that the person in the tub is George Bush.






The Disaster Artist is a decent movie, but if you haven’t seen the “disaster” that inspired it, director Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, be sure to watch that one first.


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Editor’s Note:  Evidently our leaders are setting new norms and standards for the country’s political discourse.

Far be it from us to ignore the signals from our betters in Washington, D.C.  In that spirit, please enjoy our new style guidelines for The Weekly Review:




I don’t understand how Sean Hannity is considered the top dog at Fox News. Hannity often strikes me as an oblivious knee-bender.

To me, the top asshole at Fox is Tucker Carlson, despite the doltish deer-in-the-headlights facial expression he adopts while listening to his guests. Unlike Hannity, Carlson is smart enough to know which hot-buttons to push.

There’s a good reason that those motherfucking liberal activists showed up at Carlson’s house in the middle of the night, and then tried so hard to get bullshitting advertisers to abandon his show. They recognize that jerk-off Carlson, unlike shithead Hannity, is an intellectual threat.


Above, Fox host Tucker Carlson dancing with some bitch




Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like if I was a Muslim congresswoman in a country with millions of citizens who are on the fence whether or not to feel well-disposed toward my religion, I might not consider it a great idea to insult the president of the United States by calling him a “motherfucker.”




On the bright side for Democrats, this fuckwad congresswoman from Michigan makes previous lightning rod Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez seem like motherfucking Miss Manners.


Above, cunt-licker Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez dancing with some jackass




Tiresome metaphor I keep hearing: “If you’re a hammer, everything’s a nail.”

I beg to differ. In my limited experience with carpentry, when given the choice, hammers invariably prefer my thumb to cocksucking nails.




That’s our lame-ass Review for this week. We hope you enjoyed our new format, and we hope to see you pathetic blowjobbers again next week.


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Game Night


These days, Hollywood has a difficult time making what used to be called the “screwball comedy.” In the past, screwball characters were lovably goofy as they bumbled and stumbled through silly plots. Think Bringing Up Baby. Today, the main characters in this kind of farce aren’t merely goofy; they tend to be borderline psychotic.

Still, the nut jobs in Game Night — a group of clueless suburbanites obsessed with party games — are fairly amusing, and their dialogue is often witty. And if there’s a better character actor out there than Jesse Plemons (Breaking Bad, Fargo, Black Mirror), I’d like to know who it is. Release: 2018 Grade: B




Murder on the Orient Express


I like actor Kenneth Branagh, but he isn’t my favorite “Hercule Poirot.” That would be David Suchet. And I enjoyed director Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express, but it isn’t my favorite interpretation of Agatha Christie’s famous mystery. That would be Suchet’s television version or, possibly, the 1974 movie with Albert Finney. 

Outside of some spectacular (often computer-generated) scenery, the latest film doesn’t offer much new, but so what? Some stories are like comfort food; no matter how many times you’ve had it, and as long as they don’t change the ingredients, eventually you come back for more.  Release: 2017 Grade: B


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In which we bring you gorgeous starlets from the past, nude or semi-nude – hey, this new feature was Rip van Dinkle’s idea. He wanted to call this category “Party in Your Pants,” but we held firm for something classier.


Deborah Voorhees



I am befuddled by actresses who claim to be befuddled by the effects of their nude scenes. They are, apparently, either ignorant of, or disingenuous about, the basics of human nature – at least as it applies to the heterosexual male. If their bare skin provokes naughty thoughts in the male audience, well, then it’s the fault of the male audience. OK, fine. That may be true.

The phenomenon is called lust, and it’s not always pretty. But, as the cliché goes, it is what it is. The heart wants what it wants – and so does the penis.

And so we have former starlet Deborah Voorhees, aka Debi Sue Voorhees, aka Deborah Bradley, aka “Tina” the naked nymphet from Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning, who in recent interviews details the aftermath of her short movie career inasmuch as it led to her firings from two high-school teaching jobs. Voorhees says it’s a “weird world,” and that she didn’t expect her bare-naked exposure to become an issue in the classroom.

Evidently a roomful of horny teenage boys, fresh from watching their teacher roll in the hay in the nude on their high-definition TVs, should be able to banish lustful thoughts. “Stop staring at my tits, boys!”



The Grouch certainly knows about lustful thoughts when it comes to Deborah Voorhees. He wrote about his encounter with her back in the early 1990s when they both worked for the same company.

Deborah read Grouch’s article and was quite pleased with it:



And in a recent podcast interview, she was still talking about Grouch’s article … at least, we think she was still talking about it:



About ten years before Grouch and Deborah shared that elevator in Ft. Worth, when she was just 19, Deborah (Debi Sue?) wanted to be in Playboy or in the movies. Playboy lost. But now we have her audition photos: 



She didn’t make it into the pages of Playboy, but she was a bunny at Hugh Hefner’s Dallas club (above).




The Starlet Years



Deborah did land a part in the popular TV series Dallas (above), but mostly she appeared in low-budget thrillers like Appointment with Fear and Innocent Prey, in which she appeared on screen just long enough to take her clothes off and/or do sex scenes.




Lord knows who had the bright idea to put this gorgeous girl in granny panties, but if anyone could pull it off, it was Deborah.



The video clip:







The video:



Last but in no way least, we have the awful Friday the 13th entry that made Deborah a cult-movie legend. Director Danny Steinmann, a veteran of hard-core porn films, was lucky enough to be given young Deborah to play with in Part V. Although the infamous nude scene begins post-coitus, we have to wonder what might have been left on the cutting-room floor.

From a GQ story about the film:  “Director Danny Steinmann, who never shot another movie after Part V, has different regrets about the movie: ‘I shot a fucking porno in the woods there,’ he recalls. ‘You wouldn’t believe the nudity they cut out.’” 

Hmmm. Considering the butt-pounding Deborah took in Innocent Prey (see above), you do have to wonder if someday we might see a “director’s cut” of her Friday frolic.





The video:



Rip’s Ranking:




“I’d go higher but, from what I can tell, she never went full-frontal – although if you look very, very carefully, there could be a glimpse between her legs in that Friday scene, when she lies back in the field and the camera pans down. Is that her pussy? Of course, I would never analyze the scene like that. It’s just something someone told me.”


Click here for Deborah Voorhees’s IMDB page.


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TV Update



Newfangled balderdash


Someday, cultural historians will possibly look back at the premiere of Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (above) and recognize a groundbreaking moment in home entertainment, when Hollywood product became much more immersive and interactive.

That day isn’t today. Right now, Netflix’s experiment feels like a crashing bore, a frustrating waste of time.

OK, OK, it was mildly entertaining to use my remote to have the hero either spill tea on his computer or to smash the monitor to bits. Or to choose between two brands of cereal. But after watching the same scenes play out ad nauseam, completely demolishing the flow of the story, I was desperate to click the “end credits” button.


Old-fashioned fun



Unforgotten —  The good news: I hadn’t even heard of this show, which is already in its third season, but it’s yet another high-class British drama with great acting.

The (sort of) bad news: It’s been hyped as a mystery or whodunit, and it is that, but it’s actually more social drama than anything else. If you have doubts that the past can come back to haunt you, you won’t after watching this series.



The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel —  The good news: The production design really brings the late 1950s to life. Star Rachel Brosnahan is a cutie, and it was thoughtful of the showrunners to give us a look at her tits and ass:



The bad news: I couldn’t watch more than the first episode. Apparently lots of people find Mrs. Maisel charming. I found her obnoxious and grating.


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We’re told it’s been a big week in Washington. I’m not sure why.


The Government Shutdown:

Yawn. For the federal employees who won’t go to work for awhile, doesn’t it amount to a paid vacation? Sure, they might have to wait a bit for their paychecks, but still. As for the rest of us, does anyone even notice a government shutdown?


Troop Withdrawals in the Middle East:

Sigh. If I were a hawk, I wouldn’t worry. Trump can remove all troops from Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, or wherever, but it’s just a matter of time before we get drawn into another Middle East quagmire. Because that’s what we do.


Trump’s Green Acres Tweet:

On the one hand, it is pretty funny that a sitting American president would post such a thing. On the other hand, it did remind me of the ending of Dr. Strangelove, in which Slim Pickens rides a falling nuclear bomb like it’s a bucking bronco.



It’s funny, but also disturbing. Nero fiddling while Rome burns and that sort of thing.





I saw these legs on HLN the other day and wondered who the sexpot is. (Not the bonehead on the right, Sanjay Gupta, who looks like he’s about to jump the blonde.)

Turns out it’s Elizabeth Prann, who used to be on Fox.

Isn’t Fox supposed to be the legs network?






Quote of the Week


“Maybe it takes an impulsive, dangerous nutjob like Trump to finally do it, to end the wars the American people want to end.” – Andrew Sullivan in New York magazine





Translation: The new one is more politically correct.






How is this not the same person?


Then again, maybe he’s a Munchkin:





If ever there was a political figure ripe for satire, it has to be James Comey. I suggest a character called “Mr. Perfect.” Come on, Saturday Night Live, Alec Baldwin’s Trump is tired and stale. Time to unveil Mr. Perfect:




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De Palma


It’s probably not cool to praise director Brian De Palma in the “Me Too” era. De Palma took shots for alleged misogyny and violence against women (in his films, mind you) long before anyone had heard of Harvey Weinstein. To hell with that criticism. If I want vanilla at the movies, I’ll go see a boring superhero flick.

De Palma, like the man he’s often compared to, Alfred Hitchcock, was above all a master craftsman. His obsessive attention to detail, along with a firm grasp of what looks great on film (yes, including the naked ladies), allowed him to shine in the 1980s. My only complaint about this documentary, in which De Palma discusses each of his films chronologically, is that it’s much too short. Release: 2016 Grade: A-


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All I want for Christmas is …


… to stop turning on the news and hearing about the border wall or about the Mueller investigation.

Just build the damn wall or don’t build the damn wall. Just impeach Trump or don’t impeach him. But good lord, don’t drag this crap on and on for another year.




… to get to the bottom of all of the congressional sex scandals, or to get to the bottom of none of them.

If you’re going to hammer Trump for his transgressions with Stormy and Karen and whoever, then we also need to find out which congressmen couldn’t keep their pants zipped and then used taxpayer dollars from a slush fund to pay out hush money.




I’m not going to get any of that for Christmas.

It’s going to be a crappy Christmas.

If you don’t believe that already, there is this heartwarming tidbit:



Ho, ho, ho.




God help me but … were you to ask me to name my favorite Christmas song, I might have to say … (gaaarrrggghhh!) … “My Only Wish (This Year)” by Britney Spears.

It’s catchy. It doesn’t get played to death. I like it. So shoot me.



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by Charles Krauthammer


I used to watch Charles Krauthammer spar with Bill O’Reilly on Fox News and be reminded of Dr. Strangelove, the wheelchair-bound, hawkish lunatic from Stanley Kubrick’s movie. I thought of Krauthammer as a conservative villain. Problem is, that’s about as much as I thought of the psychiatrist turned political pundit; I certainly didn’t listen to what he had to say. That was my mistake.

I still don’t agree with everything he has to say in Things That Matter, a collection of his essays from the 1980s until 2014. But I respect his opinions, whether about domestic policy, international issues or, well, his love of chess. Krauthammer’s essays are sprinkled with wit and, yes, wisdom. The man did his homework.

As might be expected from a conservative columnist, there is much criticism of Obama in the book. My guess is that, were this book more current (Krauthammer died in June), he would also deploy his rapier wit against our current president.

I wish he was still around to appear on cable news. If nothing else, his calm demeanor would be a welcome respite from all of the shrieking hysterics.


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