Reprehensibly racist Minneapolis blah-blah says she “feels wrong” for paying her respects to Renee Nicole Good because she’s a “white woman who’s privileged.” Women like this are certainly one reason why Trump got elected in ’24.

Leftist woman says she “feels wrong” for paying her respects to Renee Nicole Good because she’s a “white woman who’s privileged.”

“White tears are not helpful.”pic.twitter.com/ReJat6GgJU

— Breaking911 (@Breaking911) January 9, 2026

Wiki excerpt: “The day after Good’s shooting, the Minnesota Star Tribune identified the ICE agent involved as Jonathan Ross. His name has not been publicly released by federal authorities, but has been identified through court records.

“The Star Tribune reported that court documents show Ross, an Iraq War veteran, has been with ICE since at least 2016 and had previously been dragged and injured by a vehicle in a separate incident in 2025 in which he smashed the rear window of the vehicle and reached in to try to unlock the door. In a White House press briefing, Vice President J.D. Vance stated that the shooter had previously been injured in a traffic stop six months prior to this incident, corroborating the Star Tribune‘s reporting.”

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I don’t fault Tim Allen for being an emotionally liberal arch-conservative, and he definitely deserves a round of applause for being 30 years sober. But fuck his kneejerk dismissal of Gavin Newsom, the only tough, blunt-spoken Trump pushbacker with a pair of steel cojones….doesn’t back off.

Allen: “I drank when I was eleven years old. All my buddies were vomiting and getting in trouble with their parents, but it never affected me [too much]. I never said no to a drink.”

Maher: “The more you’ve had, the more you forget how much you’ve had.”

HE-posted in 2019 and again in’20…

Speaking as one who happily sipped wine for decades before realizing it was no longer an option, I can say without question that alcohol really did seem to bring a certain glow and ebullience to my life.

I used to think that civilized drinking was essential to a certain kind of joie de vivre. My European visits in the late ’90s and aughts were, I sincerely believed, immeasurably enhanced by the right kind of vino, especially when the bar or restaurant was lighted subtly and softly.

I was never a pathetic, falling-down drunk, although I experienced some truly insane and hilarious episodes when I was buzzed. Especially in my 20s and early 30s. Like falling asleep at a party in Marin County in ’83, and waking up at 6:30 am in a sitting position in a large high-back chair with a half-full glass of Jack Daniels and ginger ale in my right hand.

I was almost never shit-faced (or at least not after high school), but at the same time my motto was “life would be unbearable without alcohol.” I was just having a good time. Breaking no laws, spilling nothing, getting away with it. I’m especially glad that I got to carouse around Italy three or four times before I renounced. Drinking good wine in a sensible way can be wonderful.

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Million Dollar Movie and CBS’s The Late Show** had totally schooled me on Hollywood’s 1930s and ‘40s hotshots. I knew who Jimmy Cagney was…Pat O’Brien, Errol Flynn, King Kong, Godzilla, Jean Arthur, Rosalind Russell, Spencer Tracy, Fredric March, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart, Gary Cooper, Irene Dunne, Myrna Loy…I knew them all cold.

And this kid doesn’t know Brad Pitt?

Wait…should I trust a woman who lacks the discipline to properly structure a sentence? “If anyone needs me I’ll be slurping apple sauce at the senior center”…easy.

** My paternal grandparents let me watch The Late Show (11:30 pm) when I stayed with them on weekends. No “off to bed” restrictions. Stay up as late as you want. Plenty of cake, cookies and ice cream.

I would listen to them (Jim and Evelyn) bicker all the time. Pop–Pop Wells refrain: “Jeffrey, don’t ever get married.”

Try to imagine a “step-back and ease up” essay like this one, written and spoken by CBS’s Tony Dokoupil, being shared on CNN or MSNOW…

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Sensible centrists are occasionally allowed to quote from a National Review article. Like this one: “Mamdani’s Commie Housing Official Is a Lunatic,” posted on 1.7.25.

“If Cea Weaver did not exist, one would be hard-pressed to invent her. Weaver seems to have been designed in a laboratory to work in the Ideological Compliance Department of the East German Kommunale Wohnungsverwaltung, but, as the result of an unfortunate accident with a time machine, ended up overseeing housing policy in the most important city in the United States.

“Weaver believes that ‘rent control is a perfect solution to everything’ — not least because it is an ‘effective way to shrink the value of real estate.’ She considers that ‘private property is a weapon of white supremacy,’ she believes that ‘home ownership is racist,’ and she holds that the highest aim of government ought to be to ‘impoverish the *white* middle class.’

“And they say that ambition is dead in America!”

“In Weaver’s estimation, the United States ‘built wealth for white people through genocide, slavery, stolen land & labor,’ ‘white supremacy built the north and the south,’ and the most reasonable response to these presuppositions is to ‘endorse a no–more–white–men in office platform.’

I’m sorry but the NR‘s closing paragraph is very well-phrased:

“Unwilling to limit her racism to the temporal realm, Weaver also enjoys fantasizing about her enemies roasting in the afterlife. ‘I wish I believed in God,’ she declared in 2019, ‘so I could believe that all men who take credit for women’s work and all white men who take credit for the work of women of color would one day burn.’

“Perhaps this was what Mayor Mamdani was referring to when, in his inaugural address, he promised ‘the warmth of collectivism‘?”

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..,.were to bellow threats while pointing handguns in my direction and telling me to “open the fucking door” and so on, you know what I’d do? I’ll tell you what I’d fucking do. I’d raise my hands, palms open, and say “damn right!” And then I’d throw the keys onto the pavement and say “nooooo, don’t shoot!” in my best little Minnie Mouse voice.

Much to its chagrin and general discomfort, Greenwich Entertainment will release Michel Franco‘s Dreams on Friday, 2.27.26. Dreams opened nearly a full year ago at the 2025 Berlinale, and since that auspicious debut Greenwich has labored mightily to stifle film festival screenings and generally suppress word-of-mouth. They’re just starting to send links to New York City press.

Actual quote from NYC journo who sees everything: “Does this film even have a release date?”

24 hours after receiving a VRBO confirmation, HE’s Boulevard Jean Hibert rental has gone south.

This is the second “oops, the owner wants more money!” situation within the last 72 hours.

Likeliest scenario: A greed virus is apparently flying through the Cannes ecosystem right now. In an exact repeat of the two-day-old rue Etats Unis blowoff, the Jean Hibert owner has upped the rental fee by over 1000 euros — 1200 euros to be precise.

It doesn’t make sense for VRBO to deliberately run a criminal fraud operation. They have at least a semblance of legitimacy so why would they offer these Cannes places for rental without proper authorization? Owner greed spasms are the most likely explanation.

I’ve visited Paris at least ten or twelve times (probably closer to 15, maybe even 20), but I’ve never been there during a snowfall. If I was there now I’d spend the entire day and most of the night just roaming around. Aaahh, the joy of taking a nice cappuccino break in a warm, amber-lighted cafe you might impulsively drop into. Life is short, y’know?

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The entire deep-souled, high-rent cast of Joachim Trier‘s Sentimental Value (Renate Reinsve, Stellan Skarsgard, Elle Fanning, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas) has been blown off by SAG members in their balloting for the 2026 Actor Awards (previously the SAG Awards).

Reinsve is easily among the top two or three contenders for the Best Actress Oscar; ditto Skarsgard for Best Supporting Actor.

Not a single foreign-language performer was nominated this morning….huge, across-the-board snub.

SAG started to become an increasingly low-rent organization in 2012, when it merged with AFTRA. That’s when the mongrel factor suddenly began to permeate everything.

The bottom line is that the tastes and preferences of SAG-AFTRA members have devolved to the level of the People’s Choice Awards, and they just don’t get it. To paraphrase Hal Holbrook‘s Deep Throat, “The truth is that the typical SAG-AFTRA member these days isn’t all that hip and certainly not very sophisticated, and things have just gotten out of hand.”

Other SAG-AFTRA blow-offs include Wicked: For Good‘s Cynthia Erivo (yes!), The Secret Agent‘s Wagner Moura and Jay Kelly‘s Adam Sandler.

If you were in charge of the late Rob Reiner‘s estate (presumably Reiner’s non-wacko kids, Jake and Romy), would you be enthused about paying a hefty fee to attorney Alan Jackson to legally defend the 32 year-old Nick Reiner, who knifed his father and mother to death on 12.14.25?

I wouldn’t be. I would figure “what’s the point?” Nick did it and one way or another he’s going to be confined for the rest of his life, I would say, so the hell with him. He’s not only earned his Satan Incarnate credentials, but deserves every miserable day that awaits him for the rest of his life. Oh, and if Nick wants to hang himself down the road, fine.

Jackson announced earlier today that he’s resigned from defending Nick, probably because the family feels as I do — i.e., money down the drain, not worth the candle. Or whacked-out Nick has convinced Jackson that he’s too much of a loose cannon to be trusted to sit quietly in court and let Jackson handle the insanity defense.

N.Y. Times excerpt: “[Jackson’s] departure was announced during a hearing in Los Angeles Superior Court, where Mr. Reiner, wearing a brown jumpsuit, was set to be arraigned on two counts of first-degree murder. It may suggest that the Reiner family — Nick has two siblings — has distanced itself from Mr. Reiner and his legal case, at least financially.”