#a millionaire for christy

[womansfilm]

A Millionaire for Christy (1951)

[kp777]

By Thom Hartmann

Common Dreams

Nov. 16, 2023

What baffles me is why a TV news personality who earns $2.9 million a year would go to such lengths to avoid even mentioning a solution that’s been signed onto repeatedly by virtually every Democrat in Congress for over a decade.

Why did NBC’s Kristen Welker use an incomplete frame for her question about Social Security at last week’s GOP debate, and why didn’t Lester Holt or anybody else correct her?

Here’s her question:

KRISTEN WELKER: “Americans could see their Social Security benefits drastically cut in the next decade because the program is running out of money. Former President Trump has said quote, ‘Under no circumstances should Republicans cut entitlements.’ Governor Christie, first to you, you have proposed raising the retirement age for younger Americans. What would that age be specifically, and would you consider making any other reforms to Social Security?”

The simple reality is that if a person earns $160,200 a year or less, they pay a 6.2% tax on all of their income. In other words, a person making exactly $160,200 pays $9,932.40 (6.2%) in Social Security taxes.

If you earn $12,000 a year, $56,000 a year, $98,000 a year, or anything under $160,200 a year, you also pay 6.2 cents of tax toward Social Security on every single dollar you earn. If you made $10,000 last year, you pay $620 in Social Security taxes: 6.2 percent. Like the old saying about death and taxes, you can’t avoid it.

BUT those people who make over $160,200 a year pay absolutely nothing — no tax whatsoever — to fund Social Security on every dollar they earn over that amount. After Warren Buffett or Mark Zuckerberg or Jeff Bezos pay their $9,932.40 in Social Security taxes on that first $160,200 they took home on the first day of January, every other dollar they take home for the rest of the year is completely Social Security tax-free.

If somebody makes $1,602,000, for example, it would seem fair that, like every other American, they’d pay the same 6.2% ($99,324) in Social Security taxes. But, no: they only pay the $9,932.40 and after that they get to ride tax-free.

If somebody earned $16,020,000 it would seem fair that they’d pay the same 6.2% to support Social Security as 96 percent of Americans do, but no. Instead of paying $1,004,400 in taxes, they only pay $9,932.40.

Hedge fund guys who make a billion a year — yes, there are several of them — can certainly afford to pay 6.2% to keep Social Security solvent. At that rate, they’d be paying $62 million on a billion-dollar income in Social Security taxes as their fair share of maintaining America’s social contract.

But, because the tax rate is capped to “protect” the morbidly rich while sticking the rest of us with the full bill for Social Security, those titans of Wall Street pay the same $9,932.40 as the doctor who lives down the street from you and earns $160,200 a year.

This is, to use the economic technical term, nuts.

And, while every wealthy person in America knows all about this because it’s such a huge benefit to them, I’ll bet fewer than five percent of Americans know how this scam for the rich works. (I searched diligently, but couldn’t find a single survey that asked average folks if they knew about the cap.)

There is no other tax in America that works like this. Most have loopholes designed to promote specific socially desirable goals, like the deductibility of home mortgage interest or children, but no other tax is designed so that anybody earning over $160,200 is completely exempt and no longer has to pay a penny after their first nine thousand or so dollars.

And here’s where it gets really bizarre: if millionaires and billionaires paid the exact same 6.2% into Social Security that most of the rest of us do (and paid it on their investment income, which is also 100% exempt today), the program would not only be solvent for the next 75 years, but it would have so much extra cash that everybody on Social Security could get a significant raise in their monthly benefit payments.

But because America’s morbidly rich don’t want to pay their share for keeping Social Security solvent, Republicans are having a debate about how badly they can screw working class retirees.

They ask:

“Shall we cut the Social Security payments?”

“How about raising the retirement age from 67 (Reagan raised it from 65 to 67) to 70 or even 72?”

“Or maybe we should just hand the entire thing off to JPMorgan or Wells Fargo and let them run it, like we’re doing with Medicare? We could call it Social Security Advantage!”

“Or how about turning Social Security into a welfare program by ‘means testing’ it, so rich people can’t draw from it and every budget year it can become a political football for the GOP like food stamps or WIC?”

Responding to Welker’s severely incomplete question, Chris Christie hit all four:

GOVERNOR CHRISTIE: “Sure, and we have to deal with this problem. Now look, if we raise the retirement age a few years for folks that are in their thirties and forties, I have a son who’s in the audience tonight who’s 30 years old. If he can’t adjust to a few year increase in Social Security retirement age over the next 40 years, I got bigger problems with him than his Social Security payments. “And the fact is we need to be realistic about this. There are only three things that go into determining whether Social Security can be solvent or not. Retirement age, eligibility for the program in general, and taxes. That’s it. We are already overtaxed in this country and we should not raise those taxes. But on eligibility also, I don’t know if out there tonight and if you’re watching Warren, I don’t know if Warren Buffett is collecting Social Security, but if he is, shame on you. You shouldn’t be taking the money.”

Christie was the only one of the five Republicans on the stage who even dared mention taxes.

Nikki Haley said:

“So first of all, any candidate that tells you that they’re not going to take on entitlements, is not being serious. Social Security will go bankrupt in 10 years, Medicare will go bankrupt in eight.”

Neither of those assertions are even remotely true, but, of course, this was a GOP debate. She continued:

“But for like my kids in their twenties, you go and you say we’re going to change the rules, you change the retirement age for them. Instead of cost of living increases, we should go to increases based on inflation. We should limit benefits on the wealthy.”

Her other solution, apropos of nothing, was to end government responsibility for Medicare and privatize the entire program by shutting down real Medicare and throwing us all to the tender mercies of the health insurance billionaires:

“And then expand Medicare Advantage plans. Seniors love that and let’s make sure we do that so that they can have more competition. That’s how we’ll deal with entitlement reform and that’s how we’ll start to pay down this debt.”

Ramaswamy’s answer was so incoherent and off-topic I won’t repeat it here. Suffice it to say he rambled on about the cost of foreign wars (Ukraine, Israel) “that many blood-thirsty members of both parties have a hunger for.” Apparently, Vivek doesn’t realize that Social Security isn’t part of our government’s overall budget but has its own segregated funds and trust fund.

Since it’s creation in 1935, Social Security never has and never will contribute to the budget deficit or influence any other kind of government spending.

Tim Scott said we should take a cue from Reagan, Bush, and Trump and just cut billionaires’ income taxes again because that does such a great job of stimulating the economy (not) and then claw back the inflation-based raises people on Social Security have received the past three years.

“Number two, you have to cut taxes. … So what we know is that the Laffer Curve still works, for the lower the tax, the higher the revenue. And finally, if we’re going to deal with it, we have to take our annual appropriations back to pre-2020, pre-COVID levels of spending, which would save us about a half a trillion dollars in the next budget window. By doing that, we deal with Social Security and our mandatory spending.”

DeSantis was equally incoherent, also refusing to answer the question about raising the retirement age and completely avoiding any mention of the sweetheart deal his billionaire donors get on their Social Security taxes. Instead, he said we needed to get inflation under control and stop Congress from “taking money from Social Security,” something Congress has never done and legally never will be able to do.

All this incoherence aside, Republicans appear to have a plan to deal with Social Security.

House Speaker MAGA Mike Johnson has been pushing a “Catfood Commission” just like Reagan’s 1983 commission that raised the retirement age to 67, reaffirmed the cap on taxes, and made Social Security checks taxable as income. He no doubt expects his commissioners will provide “recommendations” Republicans can run with to cut benefits without raising taxes on their billionaire donors, all while blaming it on the commissioners just like Reagan did in 1983.

When Johnson said that his “top priority” was creating such a commission “immediately” and that his Republican colleagues had responded to the idea “with great enthusiasm,” Democrats on the House Ways and Means Committee responded on Xitter:

“A week into his tenure, MAGA Mike Johnson is ALREADY calling for closed-door cuts to the Social Security and Medicare benefits American workers have earned through decades of hard work.”

But back to the original question. I understand why Republicans refuse to even consider lifting the cap on Social Security taxes so their morbidly rich donors won’t have to start paying their fair share of Social Security to keep the program solvent.

What baffles me is why a TV news personality who earns $2.9 million a year would go to such lengths to avoid even mentioning a solution that’s been signed onto repeatedly by virtually every Democrat in Congress for over a decade.

I’ve been watching Kristen Welker on television for years, and she’s generally been a pretty straight shooter as a reporter. Ditto for Lester Holt, who sat right beside her. This, frankly, astonished me.

Were they afraid Republicans would exact revenge on them if they raised the question of the tax cap?

Or was it precisely because they’re making millions, just like most of the executives they answer to?

More broadly, is this why we almost never hear any discussion whatsoever in the media — populated with other news stars who also make millions a year, managed by millionaire network executives — about lifting the cap?

One hopes the answer isn’t that crass...

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[danglovely]

Alright, someone needs to issue a definitive ruling on what The Naco actually is. Ron Stoppable's invention debuts in "Bueno Nacho" and eventually makes him a millionaire. He describes it as "taco meets nacho" and he clearly invents it by wrapping an order of nachos in a giant tortilla.

Bueno Nacho adds it to the menu at some point and the recipe is modified a bit (lettuce and tomato were not part of the original creation). The real question is how to approximate the food that was clearly not meant for actual human consumption in real life.

Fun fact, while recipes would make sense as a "useful article" and therefore should be protected by patent law, they aren't considered novel and have to be protected by copyright or trade secret law. That actually benefits Ron, who I am sure never registered with the Patent and Trademark Office.

Babish had to try it twice (first here and then here). He had to redo it because he didn't include bright yellow queso or ground beef . . . and I think that's right. Both are things integral to the platonic ideal of a Naco.

Will Friedle and Christy Carlson Romano made Nacos together too. I think they basically get pretty close. Theirs are shaped like tacos and not dripping, but close.

I think if you're actually trying to capture what eating a Naco is about (based on the show), there are a few notes you have to hit:

It needs to crunch when you eat it.

It needs to be basically dripping with grease and cheese.

It somewhat needs to be shaped like a bindle.

All that said, I do think there is a Naco approximation readily available for anyone -- and that's the Crunchwrap at Taco Bell. Though not shaped like a bowl, it's basically taco filling in a tortilla with a tostada for the crunch.

Additional Fun Fact: Taco Bell used to have menu items that people approximated even closer to the Naco that were discontinued.

The thing Ron makes just isn't wieldy enough, tasty enough, or worth it to attempt to try and make an approximation of it in real life. So make a Crunchwrap instead, use Joshua Weissman's recipe (don't waste any of your life eating at an actual Taco Bell), and replace the tostada with tortilla chips, because who has the time?

[thebrikbox]

The Great Greta Garbo

Glamorous, compelling, and ever so famous was the iconic movie star, Greta Garbo. She graced Hollywood in the 1920s and 1930s with films like “Wild Orchids” and “The Kiss.” Altogether, she starred in thirty-three films and captivated men and women alike.

Greta was born Greta Lovisa Gustafsson on September 18, 1905 in Stockholm, Sweden and died April 15, 1990 in New York City at the age of 84 to pneumonia. Her childhood was that of poverty where her family lived in the slums. Her father was an itinerant laborer and didn’t earn much money to give his family the life he wanted for them to have. When Greta was old enough to work, she took various positions to help ease the strain of supporting the family.

One fateful day, film director Erik Petschler saw Greta and was mesmerized with her beauty after seeing her in a commercial advertising women’s clothing and he offered her a small role in his 1922 film “Peter the Tramp.” She was bitten by the acting bug and she started school at the Royal Dramatic Theater in Stockholm. She landed a major role in a 1925 Swedish movie “Gösta Berlings Saga” (The Saga of Gösta Berling). The director, Mauritz Stiller changed her birth name to Garbo as he felt it was fitting and becoming for her unique beauty. Seeing her potential, he negotiated with MGM (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer) Studios in Hollywood and secured her a contract. Louis B. Mayer had doubts about Greta’s screen performance until the release of her first American 1926 film “The Torrent.” Her lustrous glow and the fluidity of how she moved impressed Mayer so much so that he gave her an exclusive contract.

1930’s “Anna Christie” was Greta’s first sound film. The movie was marketed with “Garbo talks!” She would earn three Oscar nominations for best actress for her performances in “Anna Christie,” “Camille,” and for “Ninotchka.” She never did win, but she did receive an Honorary Academy Award in 1955. She won the New York Film Critics Circle Award for best actress for her performance in 1935’s Anna Karenina. Her last film was “Two-Faced Woman” in 1941 and it received bad reviews that greatly humiliated her. Her acting life halted despite offers for other films after the movie flop.

Greta never married nor did she have children. Her first romance was with her often co-Star John Gilbert. In her latter years, she had a relationship with Leopold Stokowski, conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra. It’s rumored that she had an affair with Russian-born millionaire George Schlee, stealing him from his wife. It’s specualted that Greta was bisexual, some would claim she was predominantly lesbian, but no one could confirm that. Though she appeared in events, she disliked the feeling uncomfortable acting like a socialite because it wasn’t who she was.

Greta would live the remainder of her life in a New York City apartment. She was an honored guest in the White House and She received treatment for breast cancer and would have dialysis treatment at a local hospital where she would later die from pneumonia. She will always be regarded as one of the most beautiful and graceful women that gifted us with her talent.

Until next time, Aloha oe.

Photos: *Getty Images, Posterlounge

[stephensmithuk]

Charles Augustus Milverton

Published in 1904, this forms part of the Return collection.

Most chroniclers put this in 1899.

Milverton is seemingly inspired by Charles Augustus Howell, an art dealer and alleged blackmailer, who died in strange circumstances in 1890: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Augustus_Howell

Hampstead is located four miles NW of Charing Cross. Known for attracting a lot of artistic and intellectual people, it has some very expensive houses and a lot of millionaires. Notable residents past and present are numerous indeed, including Sting, Agatha Christie, Emilia Clarke, Muhammed Ali Jinnah, Florence Nightingale.

The area had began to expand with the arrival of what is now known as the North London line of London Overground, which operated services into Broad Street until that station closed in 1986. The now-Northern Line would reach there in 1907 and Hampstead station, beneath a steep hill has the deepest platforms on the Tube, at 192 feet below street level. The station also is one of those designed by Leslie Green, with the distinctive oxblood red tiles he liked to use on the outside.

The "Evil One" is an archaic term for the Devil.

Débutantes seem to have typically been 17 or 18.

"Lady" is a courtesy title for the daughters of dukes, marquesses and earls.

Mr. Pickwick refers to the titular character of Charles Dickens' The Pickwick Papers, originally serialised in 19 parts between 1836 and 1837. It might be good for a mailing group.

With telephones going through human-operated exchanges and telegrams being rather expensive, letters were the most secure way of sending romantic messages. Unless the servants got hold of them. Notably, all the correspondence from Queen Victoria to her Indian teacher Abdul Karim was burnt after her death on the orders of Edward VII.

£7,000 would be around £740,000 at today's prices.

Astrakhan are the pelts of fetal or newborn Karakul sheep. So, yeah...

Revolvers were the normal handguns at the time. Self-loading semi-automatics had just begun to enter the scene in large numbers, with the Mauser C96 (aka Han Solo's blaster) available by 1899.

Hampstead Heath is a 790-acre park with views over the city centre from Parliament Hill that are legally protected. The "bloofer lady" scene from Dracula takes place there and a number of movies, such as Notting Hill have filmed there.

The Heath also was - and still is - a popular location for gay men to engage in "cruising" i.e. anonymous hookups, or just hang out. The locals know which bits to avoid at night and these days the police are tolerant unless someone complains, although fines were issued for lockdown breaches. (Public sex is legal if no-one not involved sees it or is likely to, unless in a public toilet)

In the past, it was a very different matter and a Tory MP had to resign his seat in 1992 after being caught on the Heath with another man.

"Court dress" was the regulated outfits worn when attending the British royal court at the time for those not entitled to a uniform. This included wearing breeches and stockings for men, along with a cocked hat. For women this included a white or cream evening gown with lace. It fell somewhat out of use after the Second World War with the 1953 Coronation being the last occasion it was worn in large numbers, However, it is still worn by judges, King's Counsel (senior lawyers) and some Lord Mayors - the royals will wear it sometimes as well. A 1921 guide can be found here: https://archive.org/details/dressinsigniawor00greauoft/page/n113/mode/2up

[shesay]

It'll 4ever bother me how the children of actors and models grow up and get into Hollywood and modeling despite em not having the talent when they can literally go 2 university get an education work a real prestigious job maybe volunteer do smth honorable why must it all be so vain like 4 ex the daughter christy turlington isn't tall nor is she high fashion thin (not that I'm criticizing her she's gorgeous but ykwim) like ur parents r millionaires u have access 2 the best education u can do sm be so many other things why r u trying 2 break into an industry that u don't even fit into when u can accomplish lots of things and it pisses me off

[haveyoureadthispoll]

First, there were ten—a curious assortment of strangers summoned as weekend guests to a little private island off the coast of Devon. Their host, an eccentric millionaire unknown to all of them, is nowhere to be found. All that the guests have in common is a wicked past they're unwilling to reveal—and a secret that will seal their fate. For each has been marked for murder. A famous nursery rhyme is framed and hung in every room of the mansion: "Ten little boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine. Nine little boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight. Eight little boys traveling in Devon; One said he'd stay there then there were seven. Seven little boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in half and then there were six. Six little boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were five. Five little boys going in for law; One got in Chancery and then there were four. Four little boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were three. Three little boys walking in the zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were two. Two little boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was one. One little boy left all alone; He went out and hanged himself and then there were none." When they realize that murders are occurring as described in the rhyme, terror mounts. One by one they fall prey. Before the weekend is out, there will be none. Who has choreographed this dastardly scheme? And who will be left to tell the tale? Only the dead are above suspicion.

[michaelsheenpt]

Michael Sheen’s Best Roles Show Why He’s a National Treasure

After his rallying cry to the Welsh football team, and now a part in the newly announced Wagatha Christie drama, we celebrate the roles that have made Michael Sheen such a beloved actor.

Michael Sheen recently went viral for an epic ‘pre-match’ speech to the Welsh football team on A League of Their Own – so much so that he was actually invited to address the Welsh World Cup squad for real – but anyone who’s seen a Michael Sheen role won’t have been remotely surprised he had such a rousing monologue in him.

The man has range, charisma, and an extraordinary talent for channelling the characteristics of real people without resorting to impersonation. He’s also clearly game for anything, as the news he’ll be playing Coleen Rooney’s lawyer in Channel 4’s newly announced courtroom drama Vardy v Rooney shows. Here’s our pick of Sheen’s best on-screen performances to date:

Quiz

Throughout his career, Sheen has been unmatched in his terrifyingly accurate depictions of real-life figures, and his portrayal of Chris Tarrant in this ITV drama about the Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? cheating scandal is the epitome of his talent in this area. Uncanny to the point of actual witchcraft, it’s easy to spend the whole three episodes so mesmerised by Sheen’s genius that you forget about Matthew Macfadyen’s coughing Major altogether.

The Damned United

You’d think it would be tricky to stand out in a film when you’re alongside acting greats like Jim Broadbent, Stephen Graham and Timothy Spall, but The Damned United gives Sheen one of his finest roles as controversial football manager Brian Clough. Another spot-on example of capturing the essence of a well-known personality, we see the story of Clough’s tumultuous 44-day reign as manager of Leeds United in 1974, including – as you can see above – a pre-match address that doesn’t quite have the same magic as his recent one.

Good Omens

When Sheen met Tennant in this on-screen adaptation of the Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel, something truly magical happened. Good Omens is a comic delight with an all-star cast including Miranda Richardson, Jon Hamm, Daniel Mays and Anna Maxwell Martin, but the show’s real USP is the exceptional partnership between Michael Sheen and David Tennant as angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley respectively. Want news of season two? Read our report from the Good Omens NY Comic Con panel.

Frost/Nixon

A razor-sharp portrayal of the infamous interviews in 1977, Frost/Nixon sees Sheen taking on the role of legendary broadcaster David Frost, an undertaking that he yet again nails with breathtaking accuracy without resorting to mimicry. This is one of Sheen’s greatest performances, and yet he somewhat criminally missed out on any major Best Actor nominations thanks to his co-star Frank Langella’s extraordinary portrayal of President Nixon (Langella was nominated for the Best Actor Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe).

Staged

If there’s one upside to the global pandemic, it’s Staged. David Tennant and Michael Sheen reunited as an epic double-act in this satirical lockdown comedy, playing self-mocking fictional versions of themselves as they rehearse a play over Zoom. It’s a rare opportunity to see them playing alongside their real-life wives, Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg, who expertly and comically manage their spouses’ fragile egos and childish bickering. There are also jaw-dropping cameos from the likes of Whoopi Goldberg, Judi Dench and Samuel L Jackson. 

Twilight: New Moon

An appearance in the Twilight movies might seem a bit left-field for Michael Sheen, but the man’s got range. He plays Aro, the leader of an ancient Italian vampire coven. His role isn’t the most meaty of his career, but it shows that he can play just about any genre, somehow even including a vampire-themed fantasy romance mainly aimed at teenage girls. And, yet again, he gets to do a pretty rousing speech.

30 Rock

The delightfully ridiculous (and amusingly named) role of Wesley Snipes is one of Liz Lemon’s ill-fated love interests over the course of four episodes. Deeply irritating, contrary and full of disdain for Liz, you’d think Wesley would be completely unlikeable, and yet the hilarious back-and-forth between the couple is richly funny and Sheen plays his role to comic perfection. It’s worth watching for the perfect delivery of the line ‘I can’t suffer through the London Olympics – we’re not prepared, Liz’ alone.

The Queen

Michael Sheen has portrayed former British Prime Minister Tony Blair on no fewer than three occasions in his career. The first was in movie The Deal, the most recent in TV movie The Special Relationship, but his best-known and arguably best portrayal of Blair is in The Queen. Close your eyes, and you’d have no trouble believing you were listening to the real deal – but please don’t actually close your eyes, or you’ll miss out on his spot-on and often very comical physical tics and expressions, too.

Passengers 

Sheen takes on a supporting role in this sci-fi romance movie starring Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence, playing a sophisticated and erudite android bartender called Arthur. Passengers may not have been a hit with the critics, but Sheen is a scene-stealing highlight every time he’s on screen.

Masters of Sex

His portrayal of Dr. William Masters in this American period drama earned Sheen a Golden Globes nomination for Best Performance by an Actor in a Television Series. Often as seductive as the name suggests, Masters of Sex tells the partially true stories of two pioneering researchers of human sexuality during the 1950s, and ran for four series until it was cancelled in 2016. Sheen stars alongside Lizzie Caplan, and the two have an electric partnership, both earning critical acclaim. And yes, as you’ll see in the clip above, Michael Sheen gets to do another pretty good speech.

Prodigal Son: Playing an unnervingly charming serial killer is a new direction for Sheen, and he takes on Dr. Martin Whitley with pizzazz, adding disarming comedy to the two series of this thriller.

The Good Fight: Roland Blum is a riot of a character, allowing Sheen to shine as an outrageous, no-filter lawyer that is equal parts hilarious and terrifying.

Underworld: This action horror film sees Sheen take on the role of Lucian, the leader of the Lycans, and he later also starred in the film’s prequel Underworld: Rise of the Lycans.

Doctor Who: Sheen’s voice only made a very brief appearance during Matt Smith’s reign, as a malevolent entity called House in The Doctor’s Wife, an episode penned by none other than Neil Gaiman.

Written by:

Laura Vickers-Green

Source

[cinematicct]

Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion (1997)

This original ‘90s comedy film stars Mira Sorvino (Mighty Aphrodite) and Lisa Kudrow (Friends) as unaccomplished yet carefree best friends Romy White and Michele Weinberger, respectively, who decide to fabricate their lives at their ten-year high school reunion.

The supporting cast includes: Janeane Garofalo as cynical outsider/businesswoman Heather Mooney, Alan Cumming as high school geek/millionaire Sandy Frink, Julia Campbell as A-group leader/mean girl/stay-at-home mom Christie Masters, Vincent Ventresca (aka Fun Bobby on Friends) as former athlete Billy Christianson, Camryn Mannheim as the overly perky Toby Walters, Elaine Hendrix (known for her role as antagonistic fiancée Meredith Blake in Disney’s The Parent Trap) as A-group member/fashion editor Lisa Luder and Justin Theroux as social outcast Clarence.

Mira Sorvino (who speaks with a strong Valley Girl accent) and Lisa Kudrow both excel in this movie in their own comedic style. Romy is a low self-esteemed though assertive woman who works a dead-end job as a clerk for a car dealership. Michele is a ditzy but easygoing person (who happens to have the exact similarities as Phoebe Buffay) who is unemployed. Janeane Garofalo is quite the scene-stealer with her biting satire. Alan Cumming surprisingly pulls off the image of both social nerd and a man of extreme wealth in one minor role.

In terms of observing the everyday lives of the two main characters, (both in high school and adulthood), Romy and Michele were picked on by their peers for their outward appearances (Romy being overweight and Michele having to wear a back brace) and oddities, only to live a casual but unmotivated lifestyle in Venice Beach, California upon graduation. However, they enjoy hobbies that include freakishly elaborate fashion design and dancing at nightclubs. When they receive word of the high school reunion, they feel the need to reinvent themselves by dressing more appropriately, getting in better shape and finding better jobs as well as boyfriends. However, time is running short for them to succeed, so they come up with the idea to impress everyone by claiming to be the inventors of Post-It Notes.

The script is smartly written in the form of a sitcom-like formula that details the central topic of two clueless girls in their late twenties who don’t seem to have gotten anywhere in life. Apart from the intention to rub their so-called business in their tormentors’ faces, Romy and Michele’s friendship is put to the test when they begin to disagree with each other on who came up with what specific part of an everyday item they didn’t really invent. It is during that particular moment Romy and Michele argue over who’s “the Mary” (the lead) and/or “the Rhoda” (the associate), referring to the The Mary Tyler Moore Show. This particular comedic element conveys a hugely entertaining (and delusional) banter.

The reunion is the primary setting of the movie, demonstrating the difference between how people were perceived in high school versus how they’re perceived nowadays as as young adults. But it goes to show that while some people might wish to avoid embarrassment, anyone can still make an impression on others by just being themselves.

The soundtrack contains a collection of popular ‘80s hits. The track list includes: “Just a Girl” (a ‘90s song) by No Doubt, “Blood and Roses” by The Smithereens, “I Want Candy” by Bow Wow Wow, Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time” (heard twice in the film, the second time during an offbeat dance routine), “Heaven Is a Place on Earth” by Belinda Carlisle and “We Got the Beat” by the Go-Go’s to name a few.

Lastly, the message of the film is that it doesn’t matter what goal you aim to achieve, but what really matters is having a buddy to support you and your life choices every step of the way. What’s more, this movie proves that blondes do indeed have more fun in a world that differs entirely from reality. All in all, I recommend this tremendously funny cult classic to each and every one of you.

“HAVE A ROMY AND MICHELE DAY!”

[raynbowclown]

A Millionaire for Christy

A Millionaire for Christy (1951), starring Fred MacMurray, Eleanor Parker, Kay Buckley, Richard Carlson Synopsis of A Millionaire for Christy This hilarious comedy gave Fred MacMurray a chance to show his comedic chops as Peter, a radio personality who is told he’s just inherited two million dollars by a gold-digging secretary. Continue reading Untitled

[claudia1829things]

Favorite Costume Movie and Television Productions Set During CHRISTMAS

Below is a list of my favorite costume movie and television productions set during the Christmas holidays. The list is in chronological order:

FAVORITE COSTUME MOVIE AND TELEVISION PRODUCTIONS SET DURING CHRISTMAS

1. "Three Godfathers" (1936) - Richard Boleslawski directed this seventh movie adaptation of Peter B. Kyne's 1913 novel about three bank robbers who become godfathers to a newborn child of a dying mother, after robbing a bank in 19th century Arizona. The movie starred Chester Morris, Lewis Stone and Walter Brennan.

2. "The Lion in the Winter" (1968) - Peter O'Toole and Oscar winner Katherine Hepburn starred in this movie adaptation of James Goldman's 1966 Broadway play about the personal and political conflicts of Henry II of England, his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine, their children and guests during Christmas 1183. Directed by Anthony Harvey, the movie co-starred Anthony Hopkins, Timothy Dalton, John Castle and Nigel Terry.

3. "A Christmas Story" (1983) - Melinda Dillon, Darren McGavin, and Peter Billingsley starred in this acclaimed adaptation of Jean Shepherd's 1966 book, "In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash". Bob Clark directed.

4. "A Christmas Carol" (1984) - George C. Scott starred as Ebenezer Scrooge in this television adaptation of Charles Dickens' 1843 novella. The television movie was directed by Clive Donner.

5. "Hercule Poirot's Christmas" (1994-1995) - David Suchet starred as Hercule Poirot in this television adaptation of Agatha Christie's 1938 novel in which the Belgian detective investigates the murder of a multi-millionaire during the Christmas holiday. Directed by Edward Bennett, Philip Jackson co-starred.

6. "Nero Wolfe - (1.07) "Christmas Party" (2001) - Maury Chaykin and Timothy Hutton starred in this adaptation of Rex Stout's 1957 novella, "The Christmas-Party Murder", about detective Nero Wolfe and his assistant Archie Goodwin's investigation of wealthy furniture designer's murder at a Christmas party. Holly Dale directed.

7. "4.50 From Paddington aka What Mrs. McGillicuddy Saw" (2004) - Geraldine McEwan starred in this television adaptation of Agatha Christie's 1957 novel about Miss Jane Marple's investigation of a murder briefly witnessed by an old friend aboard a train. Directed by Andy Wilson, the television movie co-starred John Hannah, Pam Ferris and David Warner.

8. "The Last Tycoon - (1.06) "A Brady-American Christmas" (2017) - This holiday episode was featured in the television adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's 1941 unfinished novel about 1930s Hollywood. Created by Billy Ray, the television series starred Matt Bomer, Lily Collins and Kelsey Grammer.

9. "The Man Who Invented Christmas" (2017) - Dan Stevens starred as Charles Dickens in this movie adaption of Les Standiford's 2008 book about the author's creation of his 1843 novella, "A Christmas Carol". The movie was directed by Bharat Nalluri.

10. "Victoria" - (2.09) "Comfort and Joy" - This holiday episode aired as finale for Season Two of the ITV series, "VICTORIA", which re-counted Queen Victoria's early years on the throne, between 1837 and 1851. Created by Daisy Goodwin, the series starred Jenna Coleman and Tom Hughes as Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.

[grandmaster-anne]

Margaret, Mustique & me

By Sara Tapia | Published 26 November 2020

She and her late husband turned the island of Mustique into a paradise for the rich and famous, including Mick Jagger, David Bowie and many a royal family member – so it’s safe to say that Lady Anne Glenconner has more than her share of stories to tell. The 88-year-old delighted royal enthusiasts with her bestsellling 2019 memoir and she admits writing the tome opened up some thrilling opportunities.

“My life is so full of surprises and adventures since writing Lady in Waiting,” Glenconner tells WHO.

One of those is writing her first work of fiction, Murder on Mustique, a gripping murder mystery that she says was “inspired by” Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple series. “I’ve always loved reading murder mysteries, so after the success of my memoir Lady in Waiting, this seemed like the obvious next step,” she explains of the book. “It made sense to set the novel in a place I know well, so Mustique was the perfect choice. I wanted to whisk readers away somewhere exotic they might not have had a chance to visit in real life.”

The private island in the Caribbean is a place that holds many dear memories for Glenconner. The author, who was a maid of honour at the Queen’s Coronation and later became lady-in-waiting to Princess Margaret, would spend many a holiday enjoying the crystal clear waters with her close friend. “I have memories from every corner of the island,” she explains of the hotspot – often dubbed a “playground for millionaires”. “Princess Margaret and I used to swim up and down the bay. She would swim breaststroke and I would do an inelegant front crawl. We had the most wonderful long chats on those swims – once we started, we could talk about anything. You lose your inhibitions in the water and nobody can overhear you!”

Her close connection to the British royal family has also seen Glenconner feature in Season 3 of The Crown, where she’s played by actress Nancy Carroll. “I met Nancy Carroll, who played me in the last [season], as she came to meet me for tea before she started the role,” the author tells. “She was absolutely charming – and I was delighted they had chosen her to play me as she was so pretty!”

While you can easily get lost in her dazzling life story, the same can be said for Glenconner’s fictional storytelling. So much so, you’d be correct in thinking the plot of her new novel had some elements of truth to it.

“I have vivid memories of Mustique, and I know the island inside out, so I wanted to do justice to the atmosphere and setting, and include details that only I know,” she says of taking a trip down memory lane for inspiration.

Captivating, suspenseful and endlessly entertaining, Murder on Mustique follows the mystery disappearance of American heiress Amanda Fortini on the island, and Detective Sergeant Wilton and the island’s owner Lady Veronica’s search for a killer. And while it’s only just been released, Glenconner is already itching to tell the next story. “I’m planning another novel featuring the same lead characters, as I’ve loved spending time with them and hope readers will, too,” she tells WHO. “The setting may be different next time – watch this space …”

At the ripe age of 88, it seems the Norfolk-based socialite has found her calling in telling tales. “In many ways I’m happier now … than I’ve ever been,” she adds.

ISLAND MEMORIES

While her husband, the late Lord Glenconner, passed on his entire fortune to an employee upon his death in 2010, Lady Glenconner still visits Mustique regularly. “I’m very lucky that I have a great friend who lives there,” she tells.

[philtstone]

Sam & Bucky, “grabbing onto their arm”

soooo ... i watched "why didnt they ask evans?" remembered that i loved agatha christie novels and immediately landed here. obviously wave the historical accuracy away bc i did just enough research for Flavour but not much for anything else. premise: everything remains the same as canon except bucky didnt fall off the train & a whole lot of characters were born much earlier in the 1900s. this isn't technically finished yet but it's enough to justify answering the prompt; i want to try to get the latter half of this "part" done & perhaps if the fates align even write a part 2 to actually complete the story but for now have this!! if you'd like to see more pls let me know <3 thanks for the prompt zainab love u

Sam figures this is just typical. So he’d decided to go to New York – get that loan. Hell, they need that loan. Boy, don’t do it, Sarah had said, but Sam figured it was his right just as anyone else’s, and Stark talked all that talk about his new GI grant. They won’t have you, Sarah said, and like an idiot Sam went anyway. He went, and he sat himself down in that nice fancy apartment building lobby across the room from the saddest lookin’ white fella he’d seen in a while, which was saying a hell of a lot. He got up, walked over, he spoke to the nice receptionist, he wrote his name down.

Of course, he was right – they would’ve taken him. Had the paperwork done up and everything. Stark may have been a bit crazy, hell if Sam knew, but he had money to throw at things. 

Only then, the very next day, Howard Stark died. 

HEADLINE EXCLUSIVE: HOWARD STARK FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY BEHIND MANHATTAN APARTMENT

The New York Times, Monday, October 12th, 1947

Nation mourns death of eccentric millionaire inventor and war hero Howard Stark, found dead of a gunshot wound this morning in the alleyway behind his Manhattan home. With him, also dead, was socialite fiance Maria Caruso. Police have yet to identify the nature of the death but have not ruled out suicide. However, sources confirm that the firearm found at the scene was not Stark’s, but rather belonged to Stark’s comrade and fellow veteran Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes.  

The thing about Peggy is that she understands him, which is just a bitch and a half sometimes.

“You threw the weapon out.”

She’s repeating this, flatly, but with enough inflection that Bucky comprehends the are you perhaps a massive idiot implied therein. Peg would say it like that too — use perhaps and massive and arch her eyebrows.

Bucky presses his hands harder where they’re clutched at his temples and grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t thinking clearly, alright?”

“James.”

James, full name, not Jim like when she’s being chummy and of course Agent Margaret Carter of His Majesty’s Royal Service never quite got around to following Steve’s lead on the Bucky front. Bucky grimaces harder. Peggy will stare and be sardonic and, God help him suspicious until he explains.

“I dunno what you want me to say, Peg – it was there in the drawer and I couldn’t bear lookin’ at it anymore.” 

Her resultant expression is just a touch too understanding for his taste. 

“How the hell would I know that tossing a Colt into the Hudson in the middle of the night would get Howard killed?” Bucky adds, to move past it.

Minutely as possible Peggy flinches. Balls of steel, he’s always said. The other guys thought the same, but none of them had the guts to say it aloud. Speaking of other guys –

“Dugan’s coming over.”

“Like hell he is,” Bucky says.

Peggy takes an elegant drag of her cigarette. She’s sitting at the dull brown edge of his made-up bed and being careful enough that the ashes don’t spill. What difference that’ll make Bucky’s not sure. His apartment’s the definition of sad. Becca nearly cried last week when she visited, but then instead of crying yelled at him ‘til he relented and got a pillow. 

“Evidently,” says Peggy, still on the topic of Dum-Dum, “he has not considered the double agent angle. His wife made you casserole.”

“Mm,” says Bucky, grim. He walks over to his meager kitchen, pulls a dusty bottle out from the cabinet and unscrews it. “Gonna get him killed one of these days.”

“Given my ongoing conviction that you are not in fact a spy –”

“Jury’s out on you though,” Bucky says, raising the bottle at her.

“-- you do realize that you are a prime suspect in the murder of our close personal friend.” She blows out. “If we can’t rely on our comrades, we’re rather fucked.”

“I am, you mean.”

Her mouth turns mulish and she looks away to the window then back. Maybe she did mean we, lumping the two of them under the tarp of some morbid umbrella. Steve’s dead and gone and sacrificed nobly, isn’t he.

“You didn’t kill Howard and he didn’t damn well kill himself,” says Peggy, steely. “I’d like to know which bastard did.”

Bucky puts his drink down. Sighs. Crosses his arms.

“So?”

“I’ll poke around at SSR –”

“You really do think it’s a spy –”

“Stay here. Word is they don’t want this in the press just yet, which, well. Neither of us were born yesterday.” 

“You callin’ me old, Agent Carter?” he asks, just on the right edge of bratty.

Peggy steamrolls forward, “Don’t do anything untoward, please.”

“You’re the one sitting on the bed of an unmarried man,” Bucky says. He walks over to the window and tugs it open, letting cigarette smoke out and giving him an eye to the dank alley below. It’s spring and the sunlight’s pale and his room’s not too high up; were anyone to jump, they’d barely sprain an ankle. And Howard’s fucking dead. Bucky turns back and flicks a thumb under his chin. “C’mon,” he says, “gimme the rest of your cigarette. I’m the one wanted for murder.”

“Christ,” Peggy mutters, getting to her feet. 

She hands the cigarette over anyway, and Bucky spends the minute it takes her to leave wiping off the lipstick stains. It’s a lost cause, more or less. 

He has to put it out, against the peeling windowsill. 

Sam’s rung the service bell a third time when the receptionist finally appears. 

“Concierge’s assistant,” she corrects in a trill voice. Her curls are pinned tightly and her skirt waist more so. The red of her lipstick clashes garishly with her hair. Her nametag reads Dolores. “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah,” says Sam, “Ma’am.” He grips his bag. “I'm here to inquire about my loan.”

The lobby he’s in is just as fancy as it was the first time around, with tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers and fine imported rugs on the floors. It was pretty empty last time too, quiet and genteel the way rich white people pretend to be. Only last time Sam was kept company not just by Miss Dollie’s red lipstick but the scowling, oblivious man she kept batting her lashes at; this time the place is empty. Police have roped off the elevator and even the white folks’ plush seating area is out of bounds. Dollie looks pastier than usual.

“Oh,” says Dolores, “oh. From –”

“Yesterday,” Sam says, slow and expectant.

“You’d better go home,” says Dolores.

“They took my name down,” says Sam, a second time. “I wrote it on paper and everything.”

Dolores has busied herself with some stationary thing under the desk and distractedly says, “I just don’t think dead people can give loans. It’s a shame, don’t you think? He was a real dreamboat.”

“Ma’am – Ms. Dolores –” She stops looking wistful about Stark’s erstwhile good looks and refocuses, “Now c’mon. I paid train money for this. My sister’s got two kids – our family’s business is on the line. I’d like to talk to someone.”

“I’d guess you oughta get a lawyer,” Dolores says mournfully. 

“Dollie,” Sam starts, “can I call you Dollie?” She perks up, which is inconvenient, as Sam remembers that he knows better than to flirt with a white woman. “Don’t they have some kind of insurance in place?” he asks. “His family – estate, somethin’? I mean, Howard Stark, a guy like that wouldn’t leave millions lyin’ around.”

Not that Sam knows much about men like Howard Stark. But if the police won’t bother listening to him, he’s just gotta run with his own theories.

“Jeez,” says Dollie, sniffing. “I couldn’t tell you. The whole back door’s swarming with cops. No one’s even gone through the rooms yet.” And then she says, “Oh – oh!” And bursts into tears.

Sam hovers awkwardly on the other side of the reception desk and offers her his ratty handkerchief until she has collected herself enough to wave him off with one hand and stumble away to the bathroom. Her low heels thump unevenly on the carpeted floor as she goes. He straightens the tie of his dress uniform and looks around again. He can hear voices, but far past the desk, closer to the alley door and the mail room. Hell, he’d bet even the cleaning staff have been either sent home or brought in for questioning. 

“Ain’t this just our luck,” Sam mutters. 

There’s no one around. The elevator is right there. Sam takes a deep breath and heads upstairs.

Upstairs is fancier than downstairs in the sense that Sam’s been in lobbies before but has never been in the type of suite that takes up a whole floor. The tall gilded windows look out on nearly all of Manhattan. Someone – he guesses the same police who told him to stop wasting their time, they had better things to be dealing with – has taped off the entrance to each room, but other than that, Dollie was right: it’s more or less untouched. 

Which makes sense, ‘cause there’s a whole lot to touch. Sam can barely see the bedroom (with its big four-poster bed) or the bathroom (with its marble counter) because there is stuff everywhere. There’s a painter’s easel with a feminine aura to it in the corner and paints laid out, slowly drying, and yesterday morning’s newspaper. A large cylindrical contraption moves back and forth beside the desk, over the carpet in one corner, like someone forgot it there; it emits a loud suctioning noise (Sam can see the carpet hole forming) while steaming a smoking jacket to misshapenness at the same time. The coffee machine has three levels, one each for cream, milk, and sugar; the coffee smells burned. These are not the weird things. The weird things are the three stacks of metal drawers emitting a strange humming noise, and the industrial sized ice box, and the half-deconstructed bicycle sitting on top of the desk with what looks like a freakier version of a machine gun strapped to the handlebars. It has wires and hydraulics and everything comin’ out of its ends.

“Just check the desk and leave, Sam,” Sam mutters to himself, pushing down his nerves. You’re the fool who got yourself into this, says Sarah’s voice in his head.

She ain’t wrong. 

The glossy desk is smaller than Sam expected. He checks it; two drawers with locks on them, and the third opens to a couple loose lead pencils rolling around. He supposes an important man like Howard Stark wouldn’t keep his papers sitting just anywhere. Under the desk, maybe?

Nothing. Not even a damn cardboard box. 

He straightens, hums at the locked doors. In front of him a lopsided chalkboard reads CADILLAC IN OUTER SPACE???? ASK JARVIS in giant block letters. 

“Going around wastin’ my time …” Sam mutters, picking his bag up and rubbing behind his neck. “Maybe we do need a lawyer.” 

Then he narrows his eyes. 

There.

Right there.

Someone has picked the lock. 

The first drawer sits just off its latch and the second has scuff marks under where the key goes in. “Well, shit,” he mutters. He gets back down on his knees. There is definitely a splinter, right down the middle of the second lock, like someone wrenched at it when a gentle picking didn’t do the job. “Now why the hell would he have to do that if he’s got a key?”

Sam’s habit of asking himself rhetorical questions is very suddenly put on the spot when, instead of the silence he usually anticipates, he is answered by a faint creak from the foyer beyond the study door. Sam freezes. He doesn’t think his dress uniform is enough to stop him getting arrested if anyone were to find him here now. Then again, with these locks and the general strangeness of the situation, arrest could be the safer option. Scooping up his bag, Sam slowly rises to his feet and pads softly around the desk, just barely missing the steam-cylinder and its jacket (it lets out a sad whistle), and slips a small pocket knife out from the inside of his left sock. He stalls at the doorframe, trying to breathe as quietly as he can. There’s definitely someone on the other side.

Inhaling sharply, he pounces.

“Oomph!”

“Shit!”

On instinct Sam grabs the arm that swings at him. He brings his knee up and his elbow down and there is a moment where they grapple, with strong emphasis on the moment part – very suddenly Sam finds his arm knocked out of the way and himself grabbed by beneath his chin, and slammed into the foyer wall like his cousin Deedee’s flour sack doll, so hard that all the breathe leaves his lungs in one fell swoop. His hat gets knocked off of his head with the force of it and falls to the floor.

Sam blinks. There is a scruffy, pale face in front of him, which features two big blue eyes that are blinking right back, looking equally startled.

They stay frozen like that for the space of two heartbeats. Sam’s fingers tighten where they’re fisted at the guy’s collar, refusing to yield. He’s pretty sure his knife has skidded under the shoe rack. 

He really liked that knife, dammit.

“Who the hell are you?” asks the man suddenly, both loud and Brooklyn about it.

“Funny,” wheezes Sam, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He releases Sam, which is nice of him. Stumbling, he moves a few steps back, and looks quite suddenly more bewildered than before. He’s not much taller than Sam is, with dark floppy hair that hangs over one eyebrow and a frame like a heavyweight boxer. Despite his startling strength – Sam aint exactly the smallest of men – there’s an exhaustion that sits fragile under his eyes and a tense, well-concealed tremble in one arm. There’s something very familiar about his face. His slacks have scuffs at the knees and he’s wearing a lumpy-looking knit sweater that does little to mask what Sam’s dress greens are plainly revealing to him – that whoever he’s just run headlong into, trespassing in a dead guy’s bedroom, is a fellow soldier.

Or was, anyway. No more war to fight and die in. Sam tugs at the hem of his jacket. It’ll be a pain in the ass to steam again, and Sarah will raise hell about it ‘cause he’ll beg to borrow her steamer. They don’t get all that nice starching stuff at the dive motels Sam can afford. 

“No one’s supposed to be up here,” insists the man, still looking baffled. 

Sam straightens and rubs at his jaw, which feels like it just got caught in an industrial press.

“Sorry to disappoint,” says Sam, “but I am. Why are you here?”

“I asked first,” says the man, so unselfconsciously mulish that Sam can only stare.

“I didn’t just slam me into a wall.”

“You came at me with a knife!” protests the guy, which Sam thinks is a little unfair; that knife was kind of useless. He narrows his eyes. He oughta pick his hat up from the floor, but he figures it’d be kind of stupid to let his guard down. They stand there, eye to eye, at impasse. After the weird-looking carpet cleaner has whistled three times the man says,

“You don’t look like a German spy,” muttered, like he’s really thinkin’ about it.

“Seriously?” splutters Sam. He says this so forcefully that the other guy has the nerve to look a little offended. But now, come on – come on, Sam thinks. It’s a fair question. Only Sam’s been having a really difficult forty-eight hours, so he doesn’t appreciate it.

He decides to consider the situation a bit more fairly; how does he know this crumb hasn’t been having a tough time, too? 

It’s here that something big and important feeling clicks in Sam’s head. He’s seen that scowl before – just yesterday, ignoring poor Miss Dollie.

And just this morning, in the papers plastered all over his motel lobby.

“Oh,” says Sam, “you gotta be kidding me.” 

But alas, there’s no kidding to be had. 

“From the paper – they think you killed him, man!”

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes pales three shades under what little tan he has, but otherwise doesn’t react. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says instead, a divot deepening between his thick eyebrows. “It isn’t safe.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” says Sam. “Some guy just grabbed me by the throat.”

Barnes does not seem to find this amusing. Instead, he looks a funny cross between ornery and miserable, and sets his jaw to considerable mulish effect. Sam hums to himself. Fact of the matter is, Barnes has had plenty of opportunity to kill Sam so far and hasn’t taken advantage of it. If he really was guilty – Sam thinks, briefly considering the warped mind of a cold-blooded killer, a few inches removed from the necessities of soldierhood – wouldn’t he want to get rid of any witnesses or evidence? 

And yet here Sam is, very much not dead.

“Well … you don’t look like a murderer,” he says aloud, slowly, but keeps his arms crossed. Somehow despite his sardonic tone and clear mockery (at least, that’s what Sam hopes is coming across), there is something profoundly relieved about the expression that flickers across Barnes’s face.

Then it is back to its customary scowl.

“You gotta leave,” he repeats firmly, pacing once, back and then forth. Sam watches him carefully; there’s that tremble again, along with a steady, even tone and deliberate eye to the skyline behind them. More than just Barnes’s face is familiar. 

But Sam is still annoyed.

“Through the window?”

“There’s – a stairwell.”

“Through the stairwell definitely crawling with cops?”

“For the love of God –”

“I am just listing my options, here.”

“Just leave, go away, pretend you never saw me,” Barnes says, waving two hands in front of Sam’s face like he’s batting the whole morning away, and looking harassed. “Okay? Jesus, it ain’t that hard.”

“Pretend I never saw you, creepin’ around the apartment of the fella you’re supposed to have killed,” Sam says. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna tell somebody.”

“Seriously?!” It’s Barnes’s turn to sound offensively incredulous.

“Or,” Sam says, “you could tell me what’s goin’ on.”

There’s a long pause. Sam hardly thinks his voice is friendly – if anything, he’s annoyed as hell – but Barnes opens his mouth, two beats, a sudden vulnerability stuck to his chin. Too vulnerable for whatever Sam’s asking. In that split second it sucks the breath outta the room.

Sam doesn’t have any idea what it is that’s just made Barnes’s head whip around until a bullet explodes into the lobby mirror above their heads.

“Fuck!”

Two rough hands shove him back into the study and Sam nearly knocks over the artillery bicycle; he looks up in time to see Barnes throwing his lanky frame against the opposing wall and holding his arms up over his head, yelling loudly in annoyance when another three bullets spray into the beautiful engraved wood above their heads and nearly bring down the chandelier. The coffee maker starts whistling out of control. Sam groans. 

“Gimme your gun!” demands Barnes, which is beyond unhelpful.

“I don’t have a gun,” says Sam, waving one hand in the air to demonstrate this. “Where’s your gun?”

“I threw it in the fucking Hudson!” says Barnes. He looks like a guy who’s had a very long forty-eight hours; Sam can relate. “I’ve been framed for murder, remember?”

“We actually never established that that’s the truth,” Sam feels the need to point out, a second before another bullet tears through the poor over-steamed suit jacket.

Bang.

“Common sense!” exclaims Barnes.

Bang.

“Somethin’ you don’t seem to have much of!” yells Sam.

Bang.

“THERE IS A MAN SHOOTING AT US.”

Bang.

“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?!” 

Jiminy Christmas, says Sarah’s voice in Sam’s head. His sister is not gonna be happy about this.

They scramble for the front door as another two bullets sound off. Sam just barely has the time to reach down and grab his hat, and can just make out a slight, shadowed figure ducking back behind the wardrobe in the bedroom before they burst into the elevator lobby – right in time for the elevator door to ding open, and the tomato-red of the huffing police commissioner’s face to peek through.

Barnes has grabbed him by the arm again and pushed him into the stairwell going back downstairs before Sam has any time to react. 

And, maybe importantly, before any of the many police officers squeezing themselves out into the hallway can see him.

Huh, he thinks, a second before the other man’s bulky shoulders burst through the door in turn, knock haphazardly into Sam, and half tumble them down the staircase with a garbled, “Come on, move!” tacked right onto the end.

“Can’t run anywhere with you fallin’ on top of me!” Sam says.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

And for all that Sam was raised Southern Baptist, he has to agree.

[spaceorphanssecondbreakfastclub]

SO's Bookclub : Murdered My Sweet

Title: Murdered, My Sweet Author: Joan Lowery Nixon Genre: YA Mystery

Goodreads Summary :

Journeying to San Antonio with her mother to hear the reading of her millionaire cousin's will, Jenny Jakes becomes involved in a scary mystery when her cousin's son is murdered.

Review:

So... this is the last book I had in my original collection. I guessing going from Middle School to High School (along with moving - and these books becoming increasingly less popular -- not that they ever were?) stopped me from getting the remaining titles. I did grab some used copies of her last books, because I was curious -- For anyone groaning that there may be more -- don't worry, I have four more titles than this experiment will be done...

I can't believe it's taken me this long to realize it - but Nixon has two types of plots -- the first being her more ubiquitous thriller plots, where the protagonists are often whinier but there's a lot of tension and suspense; and the second being her more traditional mystery plots - where the writing is tighter, and the characters are more likable, but usually are lacking the tension and suspense. This is, really, one of the later.

Standard tropes are there -- Texas setting, zany parent, love interest cohort, and someone convoluted plot. But the whole thing is lacking any kind of solid intrigue. And the mystery itself is just kind of... weird. You can tell she wants to go for an Agatha Christie type twisty plot but I don't know if it works all that well.

So, the story is that Jenny and her mystery writer mom (who is just seems to have not much going on in her head) are helping a detective (and detective jr - the love interest) help solve the mystery of a distant relative - a chocolate company heir. It's got some strange Willy Wonka vibes going here.

I think the thing holding this one back is that it's a decent premise but doesn't really go anywhere? The son of the alive company owner is murder, so okay, interesting premise, but there aren't really that many suspects, and not a whole lot of detective work either -- as everything seems to come to Jenny instead of her looking into it.

The love interest, Carlos, is fine but he's a blatant rip off of the guy in Christian Lattamore (only with a better ending). It's funny that these love feel obligatory most of the time -- as if some editor is telling her she has to have a romance in there, because Nixon is often caring more about the mystery than any kind of character building.

One of the funnier elements of this one, though, is that we're finally squarely in the mid/late-90s. There's a lot of talk about computers, and all the things computers can do. Computer hacking is an element of the novel, though it's clear that Nixon doesn't quite know what she's talking about.

Overall, while being relatively a tight read, the book feels a little labored. I wonder if at this point, Nixon who was 70 at the time - and nearing the end of her life - was kind of going through the motion with these. Or maybe it is a ghost writer - I haven't ruled that theory out. Anyway, it's fine, but dull in the way her mystery novels tend to be. At least there's nothing egregiously offensive here.

Rating: 3 Stars

[moxidi-fanarts-and-sketches]

7, 8, 9 or 18 for the asks ? :)

Thank you so much for asking!! These questions are the most interesting actually!!

7 - what are your favourite relatonships between your ocs? My fav romances are probably tasha/samuel, mia/oliver and dan/erica, and platonic are christy and kathy, jack and april, tasha and colin and robin, theo and sabrina!!

8 - do you have any oc family trees? Probably the most thought out family tree is christy's since she has grandparents, aunts and even some ideas for her kids

9 - favourite oc? Uhhh hard a good mom shouldn't have favourites but i'm really attached to all the protags, sophie, samuel, erica and sabrina!!

18 - describe the setting of one or more of your wips - since you can read short synopsises of my stories on TH and artfight, I really wanna tell smth about two more stories i've been thinking about!! First one is a story of a group of girls that can see and communicate with ghosts, so they form an agency that helps ghosts do what's keeping them in this world and move on to the afterlife. It's mostly a desire to avenge themselves and put the one who murdered them to jail, so they solve mysteries a lot!! The other one is called Kids of the millionaire, and it's about a millionaire who wanted to find love, but every woman he dated was with him for money, so he just. started adopting kids instead...now he has 10, and they love each other a lot, and shennaninjas(how do you write it????) happen, and they help him find a gf!! It's a sweet little story that would work as a sitcom bc I love sitcoms and I'm a sucker for stories that involve a lot of kids

[overflowingtbr]

2023 reading goals

okay so, my New Year’s resolution for this year is to purchase less books (lol) and to actually try and read the books I currently own before purchasing any new books (let’s see how long this lasts).

since my actual tbr is quite honestly ridiculous, my 2023 reading list is condensed to books in the following categories:

bedside table:

crooked house - agatha christie

the midnight bargain - c. l. polk

takeaway: stories from behind the counter - angela hui

normal people - sally rooney

restore me - tahereh mafi

how to kill your family - bella mackie

the bride test - helen hoang

act your age, eve brown - talia hibbert

beasts of prey - ayana grey

dial a for aunties - jesse sutanto

my killer vacation - tessa bailey

cleopatra and frankenstein - coco mellors

my year of rest and relaxation - ottessa moshfegh

books from fairyloot (as of 5 jan 2023):

princess of souls - alexandra christo

the ones we burn - rebecca mix

the vicious grace - emily thiede

the undertaking of hart and mercy - megan banner

one dark window - rachel gillig

foul lady fortune - chloe gong

an arrow to the moon - emily x.r. pan

the darkening - sunya mara

violet made of thorns - gina chen

blood scion - deborah falaye

poster girl - veronica roth

twin crowns - catherine doyle

spells for forgetting - adrienne young

defy the night - brigid kemmerer

the ballad of never after - stephanie garber

the stardust thief - chelsea abdullah

belladonna - adalyn grace

only a monster - vanessa len

babel - r. f. kuang

her majesty's royal coven - juno dawson

daughter of the pirate king - tricia levenseller

daughter of the siren queen - tricia levenseller

year of the reaper - makiia lucier

book of night - holly black

city of dusk - tara sim

e-books already started:

the bridge kingdom - danielle jensen

hearts in winter - carrie elks

chasing her fire - claire kingsley

throttled - lauren asher

dirty headlines - l. j. shen

audiobooks already started:

the bone witch - rin chupeco

series already started:

defy me - tahereh mafi

our violent ends - chloe gong

the heart principle - helen hoang

brutal prince - sophie lark

the millionaire's crush - nadia lee

the heart forger / the shadowglass - rin chupeco

total: 49

I'll edit this list through the year (as the FL list will grow in no doubt) and cross off books that I end up reading.

Edit #1: I actually have more books on the floor next to my bedside table so +6 for me from 42.

Edit #2: Read one from the list, but received my FL editions of the Daughter of the Pirate King duology... +1 to 49 books on this list.