RIP Anne Meara.

Goodbye, Ms. Sherwood. Don’t take any of Leroy’s crap when you see him*.

*Gene Anthony Ray died in 2003 (three letters took him to his final resting place)…which just adds to the sadness of this post.

The worst movie ever made!

Thanks to my husband falling asleep with the TV on while the DVR was recording two things, I have been subjected to the shittiest movie I have ever seen: An American Hippie in Israel (1972).

This movie is worse than either time I had elbow surgery. It’s worse than when I broke my finger and still had to take an algebra test. It’s worse than the time I lost feeling in both legs and had to have an emergency MRI (which turned up nothing). It made me want to punch the 1970s in the face.

I have seen PSAs with more subtlety. I’ve seen school plays with better acting. I’ve heard better music at Gymboree. If you hate America, Israel, music, joy, veterans, women, and lambs, you might like this scummed-over puddle of loose excrement. Otherwise, seriously, just go watch Russ Meyer or something.

The Five Stages of Finding Out Caveman is Disappearing from Netflix.



1. Discover that Caveman is leaving Netflix and tell your husband. Be aghast when he says, “What’s that?” Remind him it was the Quest for Fire for stoners who liked jokes about Dinosaur hand jobs. After he shrugs and says, “Never heard of it.” Stare at him like you don’t even recognize the man you share a bed with. Finally manage to say, “So…if I say ‘zug zug’ to you, you have no idea what I’m talking about?” He’ll say, “No. Who’s that?” But you’ll already be lying in the closet. Stay in there until the world starts to make sense again.

Zug zug matcha?


2. Oh come on! Get out of the closet. Maybe he just forgot. Remind him that it starred Ringo Starr in the first of the many barely-speaking roles we expected him to get as the 80s rolled on, but he never did. When that doesn’t ring any bells remind him that Dennis Quaid was also in it.



Nothing? What about Shelley Long? Huh? Remember her? Briefly discuss the fact that, although many people think that Long made a huge mistake quitting Cheers, considering the fact that the adorably sexy-yet-relatable blonde roles in movies like Night Shift  and Caveman were setting her up to be a new, less-busty Goldie Hawn, maybe taking on Diane Chambers in the first pace was actually the huge mistake. Be reminded that Shelley Long played Carol Brady in the 90s Brady movies. Acquiesce. There were no mistakes in Shelley Long’s career.

Nya bobo.

Nya bobo.

3.  Calm the hell down already! It’s not like you ever made any effort to watch Caveman while it was on Netflix. In fact, you actively ignored it, didn’t you? Didn’t you?! Wonder if it really even holds up after all these years. I mean, now that we’ve suddenly discovered feminism, can we really enjoy a movie that culminates in a scene where Ringo throws his future wife, Barbara Bach, into a pile of poop just because she was sexually fickle?



4. Snap out of it! That’s how all movies in the 80s ended. Caveman was actually pretty progressive. The caveman were pretty darn multi-culti. They even had an oddly clean-shaven Asian caveman. He had a line in one of the movie’s many poo-poo jokes. Remember?



Oh! And those gay cavemen (or gavemen)! They were cool, right? They were the only ones on the set who were styled by Vidal Sassoon.

Zug zug?


Besides Ringo’s beard, of course.

Zug zug.

Zug zug?

5. Say screw it, and decide that your husband doesn’t need to watch Caveman just because you watched it every time The Movie Channel showed it back in 1983 (about 3 or 4 times a day.) Not everyone had cable. … Or the ability to sit through 91 minutes of Ringo Starr not talking and stepping in hippo-sized piles of dino poop. Decide that he can just watch the trailer. Search for it on Youtube and discover that the entire damn movie is on there. Realize that you have plenty of time to not watch Caveman.

Friday Morning Videos: The Neverending Story

Stuck in a long meeting and complaining to a friend, she mocked that I was in the Neverending Meeting. And what better way to get through a long Friday meeting than by muting and watching a little Limahl?

The upside: it’s one of the better movie-based videos to come out in a decade that was all about movie-based videos. Hits all the highlights: the child-empress, the Rock-Biter, the cracking Ivory Tower, the Nothing, etc., so on. But you also get the unrequested bonus of Limahl.

Limahl, facing away from a mirror because he doesn’t really want to see himself under that hair.

The fantasiallet.

The fantasiallet.

Limahl chair-dancing in a library that has a wall screen.

Flatscreens in 1986 cost $400k.

Flatscreens in 1986 cost $400k.

And more chair-dancing.



Limhal, getting really into his long vowels.

More long vowels.

Limahl, on a very thin ipad.

More hand-dancing.

More hand-dancing.

Limahl, ducking from a flying very thin ipad

It's the iPhone 7! Dear god, my pockets are too small!

It’s the iPhone 7! Dear god, my pockets are too small!


Liladies lilove Limahl.

Goldblum Alert! And a call to action.

Yet another Goldblum alert, Lerlines! This one is for you music lovers. It seems an industrious Blumie* named Evan Kent has harnessed the musical power of Goldblum’s laugh into three bars of sublime notation.

Possibly other man.

Heh heh heh hrr__ rrrr!

Other man? Wait…who could that other man be? Ed? Andy? Laughing Squid’s Rollin Bishop  suggests we use this 10 hour youtube video to solve that mystery:

10 FECKING HOURS! Holy crap! Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Blumies? We need to sample that growly giggle for the drop in our hip-hop and pop Goldblum Anthem. Just off the top of my head, some possible lyrics:

He’s gangly, he’s leg bald, he needs glasses to see, he looks left and points right. Man that Goldblum’s a sexy mother-fuh…SHUT YOUR MOUTH. I’m just talking about Goldblum.

Goldblum post-coital (Conan)

Goldblum gams.


*We’ve got an appointment to rumble with The Beliebers in the vacant lot behind the Store 24 after school. … If those sticky-haired punks don’t chicken out.

Tuesday Tribute: Madeline Kahn, #4 of 1,682

I feel Lili von Shtupp’s pain in this one. If I’d tried to be a stripper, this is the best I could possibly have hoped for. Absolute genius from Blazing Saddles (1974).

Oh, Jan Hooks, no!

Goddammit, I wasn’t ready to lose another comedy hero. Jan Hooks was only 57. Goodnight, sweet Manjula. Swing it out, Candy Sweeney. Meet you in the basement of the Alamo, Tina.

There’s no basement at the Alamo! Silly Pee-Wee.

Song parody of “I Am Woman” — ok, not that funny, but she’s selling it. The original is one I mocked (although more gently) with a balloon dance, so the song has a special place in my little black heart.

Manjula figurine

All those babies…

What was your favorite Jan Hooks moment, Lurlines? Add it in the comments.