The Grouchy Editor

 

 

Tim Pool

 

Tim Pool’s a fascinating podcaster to watch. His brain works at warp speed, and so does his mouth. He seems to demolish opponents simply on the strength of assertiveness and, just as crucial, the quickness of his brain. His rapid-fire comments often fluster whoever he’s talking to.

But here’s the thing. Speed doesn’t always equate to correct. Just because he’s able to whip out an argument does not mean it’s gospel. Speed is a debate technique to throw off your foe. Skill can trump substance. (Think back to Johnnie Cochran during the O.J. Simpson trial.)

This would be an interesting test: Ask Pool to debate a political issue with someone on the left, but with a twist — the debate has to be in writing.

 

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Don’t get me wrong: I am a fan of Pool. I usually agree with his politics, but not always.

Something that bothers me about Pool (and cohost Phil Labonte): Pool makes a living discussing controversial issues. But rarely does he lose his cool. An exception is when anyone makes the mistake of attacking capitalism in general — specifically the rich.

You get the feeling that capitalism is near and dear to Pool’s heart because he’s newly rich, himself. He is driven and instinctively hostile to anyone or anything that threatens his ambition. That’s fine, as far as it goes.

But Pool and Labonte are too dismissive of a real problem: the outrageous income inequality in America. The vast majority of people cannot simply “work harder” to succeed, as Pool advocates.

You can defend capitalism, which has been good to you, while at the same time acknowledging that it badly needs reform. Pool and Labonte would rather shoot the messengers than consider solutions to the problem.

 

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Nice to see the Supreme Court snipping off the balls of rogue, liberal judges — at least for now.

 

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YouTube ads have gotten a lot worse. Speaking of Pool, for years he eschewed any kind of ads. Then he began hawking his coffee. Then he began reading canned promos at the beginning of his show. Meanwhile, YouTube company ads are also interrupting the show. This is not limited to Pool’s show. It’s everywhere on YouTube. Enough already.

 

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TV Tidbit

 

 

Dept. Q is a pretty good cop show. It doesn’t hold up to Netflix gems of the past like Ozark, Peaky Blinders, or The Crown, but I recommend it.

 

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True and False

 

True

I once asked my elderly aunt (now deceased), a woman who never wed, what she thought about marriage. She told me that she could imagine no better state of affairs than a happy marriage. But she quickly added that she could imagine no worse state of affairs than an unhappy marriage.

Sounds right to me.

 

False

Feminists perpetuate the fiction that women “can have it all.”

Sounds like bullshit. In life, for men and women, success is not (usually) about winning or losing. It’s about trade-offs. Yes, you can have this; but if you do, you can’t have that.

 

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A.O.C.

 

 

Are any of the following pics real, or are they A.I.?

 

 

And finally, there is this:

 

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

 

No review today. My older sister, Kathie, died last night. That’s her in the middle in the picture above, along with my other sister and me. The photo below is from her college days.

To say she made an impact on the people in her life would be a major understatement.

Rest in peace, big sister.

 

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

The Long (Miserable) Weekend

 

Friday the 13th certainly kicked off a horrific weekend, at least for me.

Tomorrow I’m flying to Florida to see a gravely ill relative, perhaps for the last time.

A few miles from here, a “No Kings” protest (riot?) is about to commence.

The shooting of lawmakers (above) occurred this morning in the suburb where I work my 9-5 job, just a few miles from where I sit typing this review.

It’s gray and drizzly outside.

How is your weekend?

 

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Setting aside depressing news for a minute, let’s see what Sabrina Carpenter is up to. I have no idea who she is. A singer, I guess. But she seems to want my attention:

 

 

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Speaking of selling sex, why does Hollywood have a thing against pubic hair on starlets?

Below are clips of an actress named Kate Groombridge in a movie called Virgin Territory. First, I’ve posted the final scene. Next, I’ve posted the raw, original scene which did not make the final cut — apparently because of Groombridge’s pussy hair.

 

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

A.I. Pride Month!

 

People I respect — mostly intellectuals and Neanderthals — are insisting that it’s just a matter of time before artificial intelligence puts an end to us. That’s depressing.

I’d rather focus on the joys of A.I. For instance, I like the pictures it makes for me. I asked it to create a picture of a haunted house, and it gave me this:

 

 

 

I asked it to describe The Grouchy Editor, and it came up with this, which we thought was rather flattering:

 

 

Then I got horny and began thinking of Lauren Cohan, an actress I’ve admired since The Walking Dead premiered many years ago.

 

 

I had never seen a good picture of her butt. The closest she came to showing me her butt was in a 2006 movie called Van Wilder: The Rise of Taj, where we all got to see this:

 

 

Those panties are pretty flimsy. You can clearly see the contours of Lauren’s gluteus maximus. Surely, A.I. could erase those panties? I made a request and got this:

 

 

See how wonderful A.I. can be?

At least until it destroys us.

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

 

Like Joe Biden, I have prostate cancer. 

Joe Biden doesn’t know me, does not feel sorry for me.

I don’t know Joe Biden, but I do know of him. I don’t feel sorry for him.

I’m sure there are many elderly men in our prisons suffering from cancer. No one feels sorry for them.

Joe Biden belongs in a cell along with those elderly prisoners.

 

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Democrat Woes

 

 

My unsolicited advice to Democrats trying to appeal to, presumably, straight young men: Tell idiots like Pedro Pascal to sit down and shut up.

 

 

 

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I’ve been watching Sherlock & Daughter. I had hopes for pure, escapist fun.

Silly me.

The most recent episode featured a young man attempting to impress Daughter by taking her to a women’s suffrage meeting. At said meeting Daughter proceeded to lecture young man about the harsh treatment of indigenous peoples in America and Australia.

I half expected her to bring up global warming, even though the show takes place in the 19th century.

You cannot escape wokeness.

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

Poker Face

 

Lately, I keep seeing movies and TV shows that are pretty good …  but not great.

Here is a sampling from the past week, along with my humble opinions on what went wrong with the shows. Hint: It’s rarely bad acting or direction; it’s usually a problem with the script or story development.

 

Poker Face, season two

 

I enjoyed Natasha Lyonne in season one. Critics loved the return to a format out of fashion since Columbo went off the air: We see the crime and offender in the first 15 minutes, then watch as our heroine solves the mystery. It’s not a whodunit, but rather a how-will-she-catch-the-culprit.

Season one felt fresh, a welcome throwback to rumpled, lovable Peter Falk’s Columbo. Charlie (Lyonne), also lovable and rumpled, saw that justice was done.

What went wrong — Columbo was deceptively sharp. He lulled his prey into a false sense of security and then, relying on his little grey cells, nailed the bad guy. Charlie, on the other hand, relies on a gimmick: her “bullshit” detector. For some absurd reason, she always recognizes the big lie. That’s gotten old. Another problem: like Columbo, Charlie is comical. But the humor is too over-the-top now, including random shootouts and chases with bad guys who are out to get our girl.

 

 

The Changeling

 

George C. Scott plays a widower living in a haunted house near Seattle. Roger Ebert had this to say in 1980: “Scott makes the hero so rational, normal and self-possessed that we never feel he’s in real danger; we go through this movie with too much confidence.”

Sorry, Roger, but I disagree. I thought it was refreshing to shake up the usual ghost-story set-up — young, trembling female terrorized by evil spirits — and instead, give us a cantankerous, middle-aged man. If George C. Scott is unsettled, is it any wonder that the audience is, too? The first hour of the movie is scary-good fun.

What went wrong — When George leaves the house in the second half of the film, the story goes off the rails. (I, too, frequently go off the rails by resorting to cliches like “off the rails.” But I digress.)

None of us know what happens after death. When screenwriters attempt to explain too much, their answers are usually far-fetched.

They should have left George in the house.

 

 

Black Bag

 

Here is director Steven Soderbergh lamenting the box-office failure of his clever black comedy about British spies: “This is the kind of film I made my career on. And if a mid-level budget, star-driven movie can’t seem to get people over the age of 25 years old to come out to theatres — if that’s truly a dead zone — then that’s not a good thing for movies. What’s gonna happen to the person behind me who wants to make this kind of film?”

Black Bag has clever dialogue, good acting, and an amusing plot.

What went wrong — I’m not sure. I suspect the fact that the characters, although interesting, are not particularly likeable, might have something to do with it.

 

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Enough critical nit-picking. Let’s praise something. Let’s praise a girl who knows how to shake things up.

Apparently, the angle above wasn’t sufficiently close to Ary Tenorio’s buttocks. So they tried it again:

 

 

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I can carp all day about the dangers of “third-stage feminism,” but only a (relatively) young, attractive woman can get by with truth-telling like this.

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

 

The more we learn about the Biden administration in particular, and Democrat leadership in general, I’m tempted to ask myself: “How could tens of millions of people (useful idiots) vote for these awful Democrats?”

But I can’t, in good conscience, be too judgmental of those voters.

I voted for Bill Clinton in 1992. By the time he ran for a second term, I’d had enough of him and voted for Bob Dole. Apparently, I learned my lesson.

I voted for Barack Obama in 2008. I thought his election might help racial healing in the country. In 2012, I voted for him again. Apparently, I did not learn my lesson.

The media, biased and lying, doesn’t make things easy for the average voter. None of us are invited to backroom meetings with powerful donors where the big decisions are made. We are forced to rely on unreliable media for information.

Sometimes we learn our lesson, sometimes we don’t.

I think the Democrat voters are wrong right now. But I suppose, if Trump steers us into World War III, I will be the one who once again failed to learn his lesson.

We live and learn. Or not.

 

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Ever surf the Internet and stumble across a pic of someone you know — in her birthday suit?

Yeah, me too. Twice now.

I won’t say her name. But you want to see, so here she is in all her glory (not sure who the naked knee belongs to):

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

The Return of the Pussy

Poor Rosa Parks. From the back of the bus to the front of some panties.

 

If the Met Gala is any indication, looks like the pussy is back.

These things run in cycles. For example, 1992, the year in which Sharon Stone flashed the world her privates in Basic Instinct, was a year of the pussy.

2021, on the other hand, was the year Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez asked the world (aside from booty man Alex Stein) to admire her backside at the Met Gala (below).

 

 

But now, apparently, thanks to Halle Berry and singer Lisa, the pussy is back.

I mention all of this merely as a public service. That, and I wanted to post some pictures.

 

 

 

 

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Civil War?

 

It should be common sense, and this is hardly an original thought on my part, but it seems to me that we need the left and we need the right.

Stereotypically, the left is composed of dreamers. Also stereotypically, the right is composed of practical thinkers.

Problems arise when one side dominates the other and seeks to impose its worldview.

In recent years, the left has gained control of just about every institution, and Biden imposed liberal policies on everyone.

Trump is the backlash. I don’t want Trump to dictate every social policy in perpetuity any more than I want the left to do the same.

 

I’d rather think about pussies.

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

 

I’ve been feeling a bit black-pilled this week. First, I got news that a close relative is not doing well, thanks to Alzheimer’s and that disease’s physical and mental toll.

Then I made the mistake of watching a Tim Pool podcast in which the panel discussed the likelihood of A.I. dismantling human civilization.

And now I’ve come down with a nagging toothache.

All of this means I am not in the mood to care about Trump or his enemies. 

 

I need a pick-me-up.  I need something pleasant and mindless.

I need to watch this:

 

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

Don’t blame me. I just told A.I., “picture of one man in the locker room with women.” See below.

 

Quiet Before the Storm?

 

As expected, Trump’s second term has been, uh, eventful.

But there are two events I keep waiting and waiting … and waiting for: The release of the infamous Epstein list, and a decision from the Supreme Court on these immigration rulings by lower-court judges.

If I had to guess, I’d say there are two likely reasons for the Epstein-list delay: 1) the feds let the list be destroyed, and Pam Bondi doesn’t want to tell us that, or 2) Trump himself is on the list, and they don’t know how to spin it.

As for the Supreme Court, I blame wishy-washy, image-conscious Chief Justice John Roberts. He knows he’ll get hammered, whichever way the court rules, and he doesn’t have the balls to do the right (or wrong) thing. Roberts desperately needs to stop reading his press clippings.

 

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I wasn’t sure before, but with all the judicial warfare on Trump, it seems clear that we are, indeed, in “the fourth turning.”

 

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You go (away, please) girls!

 

I took in an NBA playoff game on ESPN the other night. Two of the three studio hosts were women. The announcing crew was composed of two men and a woman. Do the math: 50 percent female in a domain that used to be exclusively male.

This is why, although I do support women in their battle against transexuals in their locker rooms, my support is only half-hearted.

Male sports, which used to be a refuge for men to — at least briefly — escape the omnipresence of females in their lives (sorry ladies, but that’s true), have been invaded in the name of “progress.” Yet when the sacred women’s locker room is invaded by biological males (see creepy picture at top), well, we can’t have that!

Looks like hypocrisy to me. Big time.

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)