Contrary to Brian Krassenstein’s 9.30 tweet, the chain store is called P.C. Richard and Son.

The branch that got ripped off a couple of days ago in North Philadelphia is located at 2420 Cottman Avenue, Philadelphia, PA 19149.

BREAKING: The Philadelphia PD has just released this footage from a store in Northeast Philly called Richard & Son.

These actions can NEVER be justified, and I think it's fair to say that the vast, vast majority of Americans agree that this type of behavior should be dealt… pic.twitter.com/F1IzK7pgXS

— Brian Krassenstein (@krassenstein) September 30, 2023

There’s a trilogy of intensely charismatic, cameo-level, award-worthy performances — intense burn-throughs that rang the proverbial bell in 20 or 16 or even five minutes and 40 seconds. And they all happened during the second half of the 20th Century.

The longest of these was the least heralded — Jackie Gleason‘s Minnesota Fats in The Hustler (’61). His performance occupied only 20 minutes of screen time, but Gleason was nominated for Best Supporting Actor (along with costar George C. Scott).

In The Silence of the Lambs (’90) Anthony Hopkins‘ Hannibal Lecter had only 16 minutes of screen time, but it was sufficient to snag a Best Actor Oscar.

The shortest was Beatrice Straight‘s barn burner of a cameo in Network, technically just under six minutes but actually closer to four and three-quarters — that’s how long that marital argument scene she had with William Holden lasted. It won her a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, of course.

What 21st Century quickies qualify? Have there been any? I’m asking.

Wait, one more: Christopher Plummer‘s Mike Wallace in The Insider (’99), which — I’m just guessing — isn’t much longer than 25 minutes. Okay, possibly 30.

Last night I re-watched my Bluray of J. Lee Thompson‘s Cape Fear (’62), which costarred Gregory Peck, Robert Mitchum, Polly Bergen, Martin Balsam, Telly Savalas and, as Peck and Bergen’s Tinkerbell-sized daughter, Lori Martin.

The Martin casting side, I’m a much bigger fan of Thompson’s version than Martin Scorsese’s 1991 remake, which costarred Nick Nolte, Robert De Niro, Jessica Lange, Joe Don Baker and, as Nolte and Lange’s daughter, Juliette Lewis.

The Martin casting made no sense because she was way too tiny to be the daughter of the 6’3″ Peck and the 5’5″ Bergen. And I don’t want to hear any bullshit about how normal it is for the daughter of an exceptionally tall father and an average-sized mom to look like the daughter of Mickey Rooney or Truman Capote. Don’t even try it.

Martin was 14 during filming in ’61 and is clearly pubescent, but she’s roughly the size of a seven- or-eight-year-old. The publicity photo wth Peck shows she was at least 18″ shorter, or roughly 4’10”. Most teenage girls reach their full height by age 15 so don’t try that crap either.

Will you look at that photo of Martin sitting next to Bergen? Martin looks like Howdy Doody.

Thompson reportedly wanted to cast Hayley Mills in the daughter role, and was unhappy about being more or less forced to cast Martin.

I’m very sorry to report that Martin died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound on April 4, 2010, two weeks before her 63rd birthday. Her Wiki page says she had “struggled with mental illness (bipolar schizophrenia) and illicit drug use in the decade after her husband died.”

All hail Marty’s St. Crispin’s Day clarion call, but in terms of mainstream theatrical venues the game hasn’t just been lost but forfeited, starting around the dawn of the Obama era.

I’m hugely grateful that elite cinema havens (Metrograph, Film Forum, Jacob Burns in Pleasantville, New Plaza, Elinor Bunin Monroe, Netflix Plaza, BAM, Alamo, Angelika) are part of our NYC-area culture, and that elevated film festivals (NYFF, Tribeca, Montclair, Woodstock) are still going concerns. But over the last 15 years or so the moronic masses have made their position clear.

As far as the megaplex gladiator arenas are concerned (excluding the odd-but-welcome Nolan-brand detour that was Oppenheimer), your average Millennial or Zoomer schlubbo is averse to paying through the nose for “cinema” in a theatre. I wish it were otherwise but apps and streaming are carrying the ball these days.

This isn’t to say that classic Marty-style cinema shouldn’t be “fought” for but…

“There is a term for Joe Biden, but not two.”

“If I’m on a plane and a voice says, ‘This is your captain speaking, Buzz Aldrin’…I’m getting off.”

“At some point, perception becomes reality. What matters is that voters think Biden is too old. What matters is that he’s going to lose.”

Posted on 9.24.23: Please read Cenk Uygur’s 9.22 Newsweek piece that argues a statistical likelihood that President Biden might lose to Donald Trump.

Plus a new Washington Post-ABC News poll (1,006 adults contacted between 9.15 and 9.20) has The Beast ten points ahead of Biden, 52 percent vs. 42 percent.

Not to mention this Hill opinion piece by Derek Hunter (9.20).

Since she began talking a few months ago and using this and that nickname, 22-month-old Sutton has referred to Joey as “Jo-Jo.”’ Yesterday morning, only a few hours after Joey’s sudden passing, she asked the above.

I was three when the reality of pet death sank in. Here’s what happened.

And 100% proud of having crafted this identity or calling card or however you want to describe it.