Well, dear readers, I always forget that Tuesdays are known as Taco Tuesday. So why did I, BK, knower of all thing Tuesday, like it must be Belgium, eat three slices of pizza for lunch? It’s not pizza Tuesday – that’s not alliteration and one simply must have alliteration if it’s a food day. For example, meatloaf Monday, Taco Tuesday, Waffles Wednesday, Thousand Island Thursday, Fajitas Friday, Sushi Saturday, and Salmon Sunday. And yet, on Taco Tuesday I ate pizza, three slices only. Well, we had to rectify that, oh, yes, we had to rectify that and to that end I just made in my very own kitchen environment two tacos for Taco Tuesday. I got some mild Taco Bell shells (they sell these in the market), I cooked some ground beef, about three ounces along with some onions, I put the beef/onion thing in the taco shells, topped it with shredded lettuce that was shredded, and topped that with some Kroger thinly shredded Mexican cheese blend. I then ate the two tacos on Taco Tuesday, and I must tell you they were excellently excellent, so much so that on Waffles Wednesday I may have more tacos, just to be a non-conformist food-day-of-the-week type. I have no idea what the HELL I’m talking about so let’s talk about the merde I watched last evening, prior to the making of tacos for Taco Tuesday. The first merde was a new movie entitled Challengers, directed by the “visionary” Luca Guradagnino. How do I know he’s a “visionary” director? Because the description sent to DGA members informed us quite boldly that he was a visionary director. Ordinarily, I would stay far, far away from any movie where they tout the director as “visionary.” The star of the movie is Zendaya, who seems to be a critics’ darling – they love her. They think she’s great and sexy, too. Ordinarily, I would stay far, far away from any movie in which Zendaya appeared, having endured some piece of dreck two-hander she did called Malcolm and Marie, the movie in which she enters, immediately goes to the bathroom, lifts up her dress and sits on the toilet for the next five- or six-minutes doing things I don’t care to know about. But I decided to watch it. I lasted an hour until I could take no more of Zendaya, the visionary direction, the horrible score, or the rest of the cast. The director’s bent, shall we say, is obvious if you’ve seen his film Call Me by My Name. Here we have a menage a trois – two young men and one Zendaya, although he fetishizes the two young men – WHAT a surprise. Oh, it’s a movie about tennis. Sexy tennis. Everything with this visionary director is SEXY writ large. He made one of the young men shave all his body hair off, even though the actor didn’t really want to. Anyway, the dialogue is puerile, the pace is non-existent, the movie runs two hours and eleven minutes, and at the one hour mark, I could take no more and shut it off.
Then I watched one of the single most inept movies I’ve ever seen, a 1972 motion picture entitled Hickey and Boggs, about a team of private investigators investigating heaven knows what, since the movie, plot, and characters are completely incomprehensible. The script is credited to Walter Hill, his first. It was rewritten by the director, one Robert Culp, who also stars with his pal Bill Cosby, an I Spy reunion. Mr. Culp should not be rewriting anything and on the basis of this film, he should never have directed anything and after this thing he never did again. I did finish it because I kept hoping that Mr. Culp would actually photograph the many LA locations in a way that would enable us to actually know where the HELL the location was. He is so inept at framing and shooting a scene, it’s beyond belief. And then there’s the scenes – I don’t think there’s more than one scene in the film that has more than three to six lines spoken before we go to the next scene. You know nothing about the characters, the plot, or anything else. I couldn’t really believe it got released at all. Culp raised the money for it himself. In later life, while he admitted it was a huge box-office flop, he was delusional enough to say that it was a cult film with a large following. Dear Mr. Culp: No, it wasn’t ever a cult film with a large following. The terrible score is by someone named Ted Ashford, who has this film and three others that you’ve never heard of to his credit. Awfully awful.
Then I started to watch a suspense movie about a babysitter from hell called Emilie from 2015, I think. It’s not so hot in the first twenty minutes, but it’s short and I think I’ll finish it – it did get some good reviews. And a big plus is that the director is not visionary, and the star is not Zendaya. Prior to all that I got eight hours of sleep, answered e-mails, went to the mail place, ate three slices of pizza, did a few things on the computer, dozed off for an hour, watched the two movies and part of a third, made two tacos for Taco Tuesday, and here we are.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’ll do whatever needs doing, I’ll finally finesse the commentary, I’ll check with the mail place, I’ll make tacos for Waffles Wednesday – that sounds like the name out of a Damon Runyon story – and then at some point, I’ll watch, listen, and relax.
The rest of the week is more of the same except for making tacos and the weekend I need to get mentally in gear for my physical next Taco Tuesday.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up when I’m up, do whatever needs doing, finesse, check with the mail place, make tacos, and watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me or any dear reader any old question you like and we get to give any old answer we like. So, let’s have loads of lovely questions and loads of lovely answers and loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy to have made two tacos for Taco Tuesday.