If — I say “if” — Kamala Harris loses the 11.5 election in a squeaker, it’ll be because of “all the young dudes.” And because she’d never so much as glanced at, much less mentioned or addressed, a concern that many bumblefucks share deep down, to wit:

Is she a woke cult member or what? Does she believe in DEI as a sacred mythology or text? And does she go along with the marginalizing and diminishment of young males in particular, and white dudes especially?

Scott Galloway: “The far right has a vision of masculinity [that ] is not aspirational…it’s be coarse, it’s be cruel….it’s quite frankly be a little bit misogynist. The far left’s vision of masculinity is ‘be more like a woman.’ And that doesn’t work either.”

…or more precisely a girl who’s reached the age of 35 months, you can’t do anything else. You really can’t. She takes over and that’s that. Which is why I haven’t posted a damn thing today.

Earlier today I obliquely discussed the “whoa, mama” finale of Edward Berger’s Conclave.

When this moment arrived during tonight’s Montclair Film Festival screening, the entire audience responded with mostly pleasurable surprise….damn near the whole place went “whoa-hooaahhwwwhhh!” When this same moment unfolded during the first Telluride screening, the reaction was subdued…some quiet “hmmm” and “uh-huhm” responses but very few.

Nobody will be able to discuss this until Conclave opens commercially on 10.25, and to be extra fair not until it’s played for at least a couple of weeks.

Warning: Habitual spoiler whiners are advised to see it as early as possible. Move it or lose it.

Incidentally: Earlier this evening I was about to post a riff titled “Worst Theatre Seat of My Entire Life.” Dyian and I were seated in upper-balcony “heaven”…row W, and I mean waaay up there with very small seats and no leg room. The movie screen looked like a standard business envelope…it was like watching a film on a 13-inch MacBook Pro from the other side of the room. And the festival had the chutzpah to charge $35 each for these wretched seats.

At least the sound was strong and distinct.

And that seems to go double for Leigh Whannell‘s Wolf Man (Universal, 1.17.25).

I feel soiled just knowing that Blumhouse “product” is out there, swirling around.

N.Y. Times film critic Alissa Wilkinson isn’t what you’d call a yay-nay type of gal. She likes to steer clear of judgments, preferring to write in a circumspect way, observing this and taking note of that.

So it’s significant, I think, that she’s totally tumbled for Sean Baker Anora.

No spoilers: For the most part Edward Berger’s Conclave (Focus, 10.25), a present-tense, Vatican-set drama about cardinals choosing a new pope, sounds and behaves like a fairly traditional film.

And then the finale comes along and it’s like “whoa, mama.”

Without getting into specifics, the film is saying that the usual, centuries-old schemings and plottings won’t do, and that advanced countries are shifting into another mode or mindset.

Which is why, if you ask me, a majority of younger straight guys aren’t supporting Kamala Harris —- they can feel the subtle shifting of the cultural plates, and are sensing they’re being shunted aside. The tactile, under-educated screen obsessives, I mean.

There’s a final shot of two young nuns clucking happily about something…this kinda says it all.

Friendo: “Yeah, I get it, but all I’m saying is that it ends on a super-woke note.”

HE: “I’m not 100% delighted by the general shifting into an era of seismic change…a primal passing of the torch…but we can’t deny that this is clearly what’s starting to happen all over.

“Conclave is a cultural canary in the coal mine.”

“A typical progressive woman would say ‘WHAT? Women and LGBTQ wokesters are making a few inroads, but the world is still overwhelmingly run by dudes.’ But times are changing. The earth is moving under our feet.”

Catching my second viewing of Edward Berger’s Conclave tomorrow evening (Friday, 10.18) —- the opening-night attraction at the Montclair Film Festival.

On top of which Halloween weekend requires the wearing of a mask…no?

There’s an unfortunate element in a photo of Adam Driver and Heather Burns in a scene from Kenneth Lonergan‘s currently-running “Hold On to Me Darling” (Lucille Lortel Theater).

Driver’s character, a country crossover star named Strings McCrane, is quite clearly wearing….gold-toe socks.

Did Driver choose the socks in order to convey to eagle-eyed theatregoers that McCraine is gauche or clueless on some level? Or does Driver own a few pairs and thought nothing of wearing them during the play?

HE has been on a crusade against these godawful socks for at least a decade if not longer. What was I supposed to do, not say anything?

[Photo by Sara Krulwich for The New York Times.]

Kodochrome colors and mellow vibes make all the difference.

(Clockwise) Duane Jones (highly intelligent, Obama-like cool cat), Judith O’Dea (early 20s blonde), Marilyn Eastman (30ish brunette) and Karl Hardman (smiling bald guy).

Poor Duane died in 1988 at age 51. Marilyn passed in August 2021 at age 88. Karl died on 9.22.07, at age 80. Judith, 79, is still with us.

I asked if she’d ever heard of D-Day or seen The Longest Day or Saving Private Ryan or anything in that realm…uhm, nope. She didn’t know Susan B. Anthony or Martin van Buren either.

I like carrying heavy coins around. I love early 20th Century silver dollars. I’m also a sucker for $2 bills.

Earlier today I felt a sudden surge of affection for the guy. The anti-Trump monologue sealed the deal. The 55 year-old Bautista has been kicking it for decades, and I didn’t care very much. Now I’m a fan.

I wrote this cause it’s what I always wanted to say about Trump pretending to be a tough guy. But we got the amazing @DaveBautista to say it SO much better. Thanks Dave. #TrumpIsAWeakLittleBabyBitch pic.twitter.com/Mo4ZMpOPVH

— Jesse Joyce (@jessejoyce) October 17, 2024

One less malicious anti-Israel fanatic, and an important one at that…just desserts, roast on a spit in hell. No more boom-boom for this ornery old cuss.