A 6.15 story by Washington Post reporters Adriana Usero and Glenn Kessler has exposed an RNC deepfake G7 video that indicates — fraudulently — that President Biden was wandering off and talking to ghjosts or what-have-you.

The title of the piece reads “‘Cheapfake’ Biden videos enrapture right-wing media, but deeply mislead“. Except: “

“On Thursday, 6.15, the Republican National Committee RNC posted a clip captioned, ‘What is Biden doing?’ The post has been viewed more than 3 million times. Biden is seen with other Group of Seven leaders watching skydivers in Italy, carrying the flags of the nations. Biden turns and walks a few steps to chat with one of the parachutists, the only leader to do so. Then Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni turns him back to the other leaders.

“In one feed distributed by news services — the one used by the RNC — it’s not entirely clear who Biden is talking to, but an alternative feed, also distributed by news services, makes it clear that Biden is having a conversation.

“The New York Post jumped on the RNC clip, posting a story less than two hours later and embedding the RNC post. When the White House cried foul, saying the video had been taken out of context, the newspaper buried that comment in the bottom of the story,

“The Post went on to make the fake story the cover of its print edition.”

THIS IS THE FAKE MISLEADING VIDEO, posted by London’s Telegraph:

You know something? The deepfakes don’t matter. A significant percentage of prospective voters believe that Biden is out to lunch, and they’re going to keep on believing it. I’m convinced that Biden is almost certainly going to lose. It kills me to say this but it’s true. The only way to stop Trump is for Biden to bail and Gretchen Whitmer to step in. He neeeds to face reality and quit now. It’s the only way to stop The Beast.

And I was wrong. In a way I’m glad that Sundance is still operating this way. Hardcore wokester shit circa 2020 or ’21. Because people are sick of it. Sundance has been dying for four or five years now, and nobody is sorry. Die already….die die.

…is what Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt (‘43) was, but absolutely not what Saboteur (‘42) was…not even close. Not that this concerned the Spanish poster illustrator. Sell whatever sizzle comes to mind; to hell with plot specifics.

Who in their right mind would want to see Barry Lyndon (1.66:1 aspect ratio) on a super-curved Cinerama screen?

7:45 pm: Okay, the initial light-hearted section (repartee, wedding, hospital, afterlife Joey Pants, healthy diet) was enjoyable, but Jesus, when and how did Martin Lawrence become Oliver Hardy? He’s funny in that bug-eyed, space-cadet way…

7:55 pm: And now it’s all cartel bad guys, ice-cold vibes, hard bullets, bad business, that silver haired sociopath, etc. Not cool, man.

8:05 pm: The Michael Bay cameo was okay, but the shoot-out in the nightclub and subsequent gunfire on the street…very disappointing. Seen this shit a zillion times. Highly-placed corrupted officials in Miami in league with cartel guys? I have to watch this?

8:13: Out-of-control spinning helicopter, etc. If it weren’t for Lawrence’s unhinged-cuckoo schtick (Will Smith is more or less the straight man) this movie would be worthless. People behind me are laughing at / with Lawrence…ooh–hoo–hoo! I’m not laughing ‘cause I’m not a whoo-hoo-hoo laughing-gas type but the guys behind me…turn it down, will ya?

8:24 pm: Smith & Lawrence trying to fool a pair of MAGA redneck yokels by trying to fake-sing a Reba McIntire song…good stuff. Possibly the best scene so far. The forced cunnilingus scene (“licky-licky”) isn’t bad either. Oh, no… more cartel guys with automatic weapons!! Van on fire, squealing tires!! Smith’s son Armando (Jacob Scipio) is cool, good-looking, etc. Cpt. Howard (Joey Pants) is innocent!

8:39 pm: This is slick, punchy, hack-level garbage. Good, high-impact, power-punch direction by Adil and Bilall, but it’s a wank…they’re trying to wank me off but I’m not the wanking type.

8:46 pm: The people sitting behind me won’t stop laughing. They’re easy lays…what can I say? Okay, Lawrence is pretty funny at times. And Scipio has great coal-black eyes, a great sense of implacable cool…he might be my favorite guy in this.

I saw Run Lola Run twice a quarter-century ago. Throttled. Last night I re-watched a 4K restored version at a Danbury plex, and loved it just as much. Smart, fleet. metaphysical, and funnier than I remembered.

Plus what an unusual thing to catch a fast-moving flick that lasts only 80 minutes when the average feature running time these days is over two hours.

Minor Anne Thompson correction: Franka Potente, who will turn 50 in July, was born on 7.22.74. Run Lola Run was initially released in Germany on 8.20.98, and, being a warm-weather film, was most likely shot in Berlin the previous summer, when Potente was 23. If she was 21 when she ran through Tom Tykwer’s film, principal photography would have happened in ‘95. I don’t know for a fact when Lola lensed, but a three-year post-production period sounds unlikely.

Another response to yesterday’s “Best of 2024” post, written by M–Theory, asked a fairly outrageous question:

To which I replied:

My aching left leg joint no longer aches. Cordless Robocop massage pistol arrived a day ago. It makes me feel like a gunslinger. I decided against ordering an optional black leather holster…kidding.

I’m okay with Harris Dickinson playing John Lennon in Sam Mendes’ forthcoming quartet of Beatles films (due in ‘27), and I don’t know enough about Charlie Rowe to squawk about Mendes having cast him as George Harrison.

But a rumored decision to cast HE’s two all-time biggest pet-peeve actors — Paul Mescal and Barry beestung-nose Keoghan — as Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr is giving me heart palpitations.

I can only hope and pray that Jeff Sneider’s reporting is somehow mistaken or, if correct, is up in the air as far as Mescal-Keoghan are concerned. Please God, I’m begging you…