“Flailing about for relevance since the legalization of same-sex marriage, many gay-rights groups [have] pivoted to a related but fundamentally different cause: transgender rights.

“Rather than emulate the movement’s past approach — seeking allies across the political spectrum and accepting compromise as a precondition for legal and social progress — they have taken hard-line left-wing positions. LGBTQ groups repeat the mantra ‘the science is settled‘ on the extremely complex and fraught subject of youth gender medicine and insist that anyone who questions the provision of puberty blockers to gender-dysphoric children is transphobic.

“They continue to spread this message even as many European countries have backed away from such treatments after concluding that the evidence supporting them is weak.

“The reflexive promotion of major medical interventions for minors should be a red flag for gay men and lesbians, considering the research indicating that many gender-distressed and gender-nonconforming children grow up to be gay.

“Last year, though, GLAAD, HRC, and other organizations staked their reputations on a foolish crusade against the Times, condemning the newspaper’s careful and empathetic reporting on youth gender medicine as ‘irresponsible’ and ‘biased.’

“GLAAD has placed the Harry Potter novelist J. K. Rowling and the journalist Jesse Singal, who has reported extensively on youth gender medicine (including in The Atlantic), alongside such people as the conspiracy theorist Alex Jones on a McCarthyite list of ‘individual public figures and groups using their platforms to spread misinformation and false rhetoric against LGBTQ people, youth, and allies.'” — from “How the Gay-Rights Movement Lost Its Way,” an 8.12 Atlantic article by James Kirchick.

The first time I ever heard “right cunt” was out of the psychopathic mouth of Ben Kingsley‘s Don Logan in Sexy Beast (’00). I’ve never used the term myself (too blunt and vulgar) but it’s definitely a thing in England.

Urban Dictionary caught up with the term in August 2003, via a “Diego” posting:

I’m mentioning this colorful British epithet because TikTok’s “therocknrollmom” recently used it to describe herself as a teenager.

@therocknrollmom I said what I said…get outta here with these feminine boys . . . . . #genxtiktokers #genx #genz #fyp #fypviral #fyppppppppppppppppppppppp #fypage #y2kaesthetic #y2k #millennialsoftiktok #millennial #savagemomsoftiktok #momsoftiktok #tiktokmom ♬ original sound The Rock'n'Roll Mom

On 3.21.17 Urban Dictionary’s “elzz” said the term refers to “a person who doesn’t care about anything or anyone or even his own self, and loves to cause trouble and misery to everyone on the planet…a person who farts in a room full of people and doesn’t care how bad it smells and owns up to it laughing his head off.”

That’s Don Logan, all right, but does this description remind anyone of any Hollywood Elsewhere commenters?

…a 4.4 magnitude shaker is next to nothing. A little swaying, dogs barking…blah. Only pussies get upset. In HE’s book an earthquake has to be at least a five-point-something to turn my head around.

But is it fair to mock a former Yalie for letting go with a little perversity? Where’s the harm?

The Kamala surge is, I believe, mainly about two things — (a) people feeling lit up or joyful about being freed from the horrific old-guy equation…the bitter gruel choice of drooling, bent-over Biden vs. pushing-80, flabby-neck-wattle Trump…thank you, God!; and (b) the historic, undeniably exciting opportunity to elect a fairly sharp, tough-minded, semi-youngish woman of color as U.S. President. Hard to resist.

…is the 1.37 aspect ratio. Debra Paget (still with us at age 91) may have been at her fetching peak in 1959, but boxy aspect ratios have always been and always will be mesmerizing. Look at all that head room…acres of it! And all hail director Fritz Lang, by the way — Metropolis, M, Fury, The Return of Frank James, Man Hunt, Scarlet Street, Cloak and Dagger, Rancho Notorious, The Blue Gardenia, The Big Heat, Human Desire, While the City Sleeps and, last and least, The Indian Tomb.

When do boys start routinely discussing infidelity or impulsive assignations among their parents’ friends? I wouldn’t know but I remember flipping through the pages of a nudie mag when I was 8 or 9.

I distinctly recall a chat during a third-grade recess. I didn’t actually say anything — I just listened.

Kid #1: “I was at Hornbeck’s last Sunday and his mom’s hair is brown and his dad’s hair is kinda sandy. So how come Hornbeck’s hair is red?”

Kid #2: “Red-haired milkman.”

This dates me, of course. I can’t precisely recall when milk delivery guys began to disappear but they were certainly gone by the time of “Bringing It All Back Home.”

My class visited a milk bottling plant when I was 10 or 11. It was during this excursion that I first realized that each and every cow ends up being slaughtered. Nice feeling. Welcome to the world. little calf! When the time comes you’re going to be murdered. Same with pigs and sheep.

[Something has gone really screwy with WordPress coding. The first two words of the next sentence are supposed to read William Holden and not just William, but the coding won’t cooperate.]

William Holden didn’t have to end up dead in Gloria Swanson‘s swimming pool. And he really didn’t have to submit to self-loathing when he began to fall in love with Nancy Olson’s Betty Schaefer, a fellow screenwriter.

Don’t forget that the second half of Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard was largely driven by self-revulsion — a young male screenwriter (Holden’s Joseph C. Gillis) feeling morally sickened by his willingness to sexually satisfy a 50 year-old former silent-era star (Swanson’s Norma Desmond) in exchange for a swanky lifestyle.

1950 was one sexually uptight year, you bet. It saw both the release of Sunset Boulevard and the widespread condemnation of Ingrid Bergman for having had Roberto Rossellini’s baby outside of wedlock. In the eyes of the general public there was nothing more odious than unsavory sexual behavior…any kind of hanky panky outside the usual proper, middle-class boundaries.

But Gillis could have have just laid his cards on the table as he explained to Schaefer, “Look, I was broke…the finance company was about to take my car away. I’m not evil…I’ve simply been using Desmond and living off her largesse while I figure out my next move.

“Plus I did what I could to finesse her awful Salome script. What’s so terrible about that? Okay, so I’ve been to bed with her a few times. I’ve laid there while she rides me like a stallion…big deal.”

Schaefer: “Don’t worry about it, Joe. You did what you had to do in order to survive. Now pack your things. You’re moving in with me.”

Gillis: “But we haven’t even been intimate yet. And what about your devoted fiancé, nice-guy Artie (Jack Webb)?”

Schaefer: “I don’t love him, not really. Largely because he’s too possessive plus he’s not from the creative side, and writing is my lifeblood. We’re not a great match. I’ve submitted to his sexual advances on occasion but he doesn’t turn me on. I’ve never once blown him and I’m sorry but that means something. This may sound cold but all’s fair in love and war.”

Jenna Ortega Says Everybody in Hollywood Wants to Be 'Politically Correct' but That 'Lacks Honesty' and Makes Us 'Lose a Lot of Our Humanity and Integrity' https://t.co/8tliSWibW0

— Variety (@Variety) August 8, 2024

Rachel Zegler a year ago: “It’s no longer 1937. [My] Snow White is not gonna be saved by the prince. She won’t be dreaming about true love, but about becoming the leader she knows she can be.”