The Grouchy Editor

Commercial Beefs

The world seems to be falling headlong into hell. The past, oh, 10-15 years have produced a cavalcade of novel nightmares.

But some things never change. One thing that was annoying as hell in 1975 is still plaguing us in 2025: the commercial.

My commercial beefs (if you don’t live in the Midwest, that’s a play on “beef commercial” … oh, never mind):

a. Cne of the attractions of YouTube, initially, was the refreshing lack of ads. When there were ads, you could easily skip them. Not anymore. You can still skip, but only after watching a minute — or more — of the irritating stuff. Even worse, content creators now have their own ads; at times, the YouTube ads interrupt the creator ads — or vice versa, I forget the order.

b. Israel begging for more money. I don’t understand why news channels, Fox News in particular, run so many ads from Israel begging us to help pay for its poor. Don’t we as taxpayers already give Israel billions in aid? Is the country so poor that, in addition to military aid, now it wants U.S. aid for its social-welfare programs? Should we also pay for their road repairs?

Screw you, International Fellowship of Christians and Jews. We have enough problems of our own.

**

Listen up, kids. This guy makes good points about geezer entertainment like old movies and The Beatles. It’s an explanation I make whenever kids wonder why I’m so fond of the original Black Christmas. Before that movie came along in 1974, the concept of young females terrorized by slashers, or the line, “the calls are coming from inside the house!” didn’t exist.

Guess you had to be there.

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Eight years ago, I reviewed a movie called Her. The subject was artificial intelligence and its relationship to humans. I gave the film an A- grade because it made me “think and feel,” which seemed to me a rare combination.

Yesterday I watched a movie called Companion, also about A.I. and its relationship to human beings. I didn’t like it, because it made me neither think nor feel. The characters, both human and robotic, were unappealing. The story ditched any sort of timeliness or insight in favor of action, slapstick, and gore.

You might think, with Hollywood on edge because of the looming threat of A.I.-generated movies, that filmmakers would emphasize the advantages of human art.

Instead, this movie made me think they’ve all but waved the white flag of surrender.

**

Hmmm … perhaps I should take this woman up on her offer.

During COVID, I got fired for refusing to get the jab.

A few years ago, I learned from a manager that, at raise time, I was penalized for not attending “optional” DEI meetings.

Those might not be discrimination for being a straight white male, but they were certainly discrimination for not adhering to liberal dogma.

A nice little lawsuit or two sounds pretty good to me.

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

The Craig Curse?

When Knives Out premiered in 2019, it was a breath of fresh air. It was a well-made film with big stars that was NOT a sequel or fantasy or superhero flick. It wasn’t a great movie, but I enjoyed it. The star of this old-fashioned whodunit was Daniel Craig.

When the James Bond franchise rebooted in 2006, the new 007 was played by Daniel Craig. It was deemed a success by critics and audiences alike. Sadly, it was all downhill for Mr. Craig and Mr. Bond after that.

I just watched Wake Up Dead Man on Netflix, and it looks like another downward spiral for a Craig franchise. His Benoit Blanc, funny and original in 2019, is now a dead-serious bore. The whole movie has ditched the sense of fun the series had six years ago. Rather than amuse us, writer-director Rian Johnson wants to make us think. Blanc doesn’t make us chuckle; he talks about religion and the Bible and the Catholic church.

That’s not what I want from a Knives Out movie. 

Of course, none of this is actually Craig’s fault. It’s the desire of Hollywood producers to inject wokeness and/or politics into what used to be entertainment.

**

I might have to move. It’s getting too embarrassing to let people know that I live in Minnesota. It’s not just the awful politicians; it’s the fact that so many Minnesotans vote for them.

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

I live just a few miles from Minneapolis. I grew up in Minnesota.

I blame all of these problems with fraud and Somalis and Walz on this:

Back in 1973, thanks in large part to the above cover story in Time, “Minnesota Nice” became a thing.

The polite Scandinavians and Germans who largely populated the area took this as a compliment and have been trying to live up to “nice” ever since. Movies like Fargo with its lovable police chief didn’t help matters. The country had New York for rudeness; now it had its opposite in the Midwest.

Trouble is, not everyone interprets “nice” the same way. Some ingrate Somalis and other charlatans see it as synonymous with naive at best, and stupid suckers, at worst. 

And so here we are.

**

Trump is always in the news. The Supreme Court gets its share of headlines. Even the U.S. House regularly contributes news, good or bad, to the media.

But what the hell does the U.S. Senate do? Anything? Hide?

This guy Thune, the senate majority leader, seems worthless:

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

TV Tidbits

Lumps of Coal: The Beast in Me and Frankenstein

On the surface, these Netflix premieres should be good. They have handsome production values, talented actors, and intriguing stories.

So why did I like them, sort of, but not really love them?

Simple answer: the main characters did nothing for me.

Claire Danes and Matthew Rhys (Beast in Me) and Oscar Isaac and Mia Goth (Frankenstein) all play unpleasant people. They are the stars. I didn’t like any of them. At least supporting players Jonathan Banks and Jacob Elordi are supposed to be monsters.

Christmas Yule: The Celebrity Traitors

At some point during the opening episode, I thought I’d finally burned out on this global reality show. Not to worry. By episode two, I was back on board. I still love this thing.

Although the participants are “celebrities” in Britain, I’d only heard of a few of them. I Google-searched one, singer Charlotte Church, and learned that she once won “Rear of the Year.”

England had a thing called “Rear of the Year”? Guess I should move there.

Charlotte Church pics (click for larger view):

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OK, so maybe that last pic is a fake.

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

And now for something completely different …

Go order my book! Link is here.

It’s cheap (free for some of you), hot off the presses, and guaranteed to either a) put a smile on your face or b) make you lose your lunch.

Paperback version available in a few days.

(For more information about the book, contact the author here: grouch@grouchyeditor.com)

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Still fishing ….

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Not really. Will be back next week.

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

Asleep While the World Ends

A funny thing happened when I woke up this morning. After enjoying coffee and a cigarette, and a quick check of the morning news, I remembered that I watched A House of Dynamite the night before.

“Oh, yeah,” I thought. “It was pretty good.” Then I forgot about it.

That’s strange because the Netflix movie, while I was watching it, kept me absorbed throughout. And yet … I don’t think it will stick with me. Not like Fail Safe. Not like Dr. Strangelove or Crimson Tide or any other nail-biter about nuclear war.

I suspect House doesn’t hold up because of its structure. Director Kathryn Bigelow mounts a fine production with numerous tense scenes. The setup: Someone has launched a nuclear weapon aimed at Chicago, and the U.S. government scrambles to decide what to do. In just 19 minutes.

But the script plays out this horrifying scenario in a nonlinear fashion. We see the same 19 minutes from the perspective of three different characters. Just when suspense should be reaching fever pitch, we cut back to witness the same events from someone else’s point of view. This undercuts tension.

The result is a gripping story that starts and stops, starts and stops. After the first segment, we know what will happen in the next playouts.

House is a good movie but, unlike Fail Safe, not a particularly memorable one. On the other hand, we do need periodic reminders that civil war and pandemics are not the only nightmares we have to be concerned about. The nukes are still there.

**

On a lighter note, Sabrina Carpenter guest-hosted Saturday Night Live.

For those of us who prefer not to listen to her hit song “Manchild,” we can watch her dance in her underwear, instead:

And look what demonic A.I. has done to poor Sabrina’s panties:

© 2010-2025 grouchyeditor.com (text only)