This is a distasteful subject, but I’ll just mention it and be done with it. I’ve ridden on underground subway systems all over the world — Paris, Boston, Berlin, Prague, Washington, D.C., Barcelona, London, Zurich, Rome, Munich, Frankfurt, Firenze — and New York’s subway system is the only one that has a serious problem with homeless urine stink. Okay, I might have encountered one or two faint whiffs in the Paris metro, but it’s not a regular thing there. You can, on the other hand, absolutely count on The Unpleasant while waiting for the IRT, IRT Lex, R or IND trains in Manhattan. Is it because homeless guys in Barcelona, London, Berlin and Prague are slightly more sanitary? Is alcoholism less of a problem over there? Do the overseas subway systems use more effective (i.e., more fragrant) disinfectant or employ more clean-up crews?

I’ve been saying for years (and there’s no question about this) New York City subways are the slowest, stinkiest and least reliable of all the major metro systems worldwide. Things have improved since the ’90s but the substandard service has been in place for decades.

Any guy knows that if you put on a pair of tallish rubber wading boots, the color has to be olive drab or dark blue. Or black-and-yellow fireman boots. But what kind of clueless dork puts on a pair of white go-go boots a la Nancy Sinatra? That’s more than clueless — it’s borderline suicidal from an image standpoint. And worse when you throw in the pot belly. If I was DeSantis I would drop at least 15 or 20 pounds — he’s too chubby to be a Presidential candidate. And while I’m working on the gut I would wear a midriff girdle under my shirt. Orson Welles wore one while playing the fresh-out-of-college Charles Foster Kane.

Being something of a clueless baseball “fan” (i.e., having not really followed the sport since I was 10 or 11), I was initially confused by last night’s Washington Post story, written by Chelsea James, about Aaron Judge‘s historic 62nd home run against the Texas Rangers.

In so doing the Paul Bunyan-sized Judge (6’7″, 282 pounds) passed Roger Maris “for the most homers in a single season by an American League player.”

That’s very commendable, I thought, but why didn’t James’ lead paragraph convey two basic, crucial facts? One, Judge’s 62-home-run record was topped six times by three National League players — Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa — during the steroid era (mid ’90s to early aughts). And two, Judge had beaten Maris’s American League record without the aid of steroids. Or, put another way, that he had slammed those 62 in a “clean” way.

In paragraph #3 James gently puts it as follows: “All three played at a time when MLB did not test for performance-enhancing drugs as stringently as it does now.”

And how come the TV cameras — here comes the ignorant, don’t-follow-baseball part — how come the cameras cut away to an older white couple (Patty and Wayne Judge), jubilant and hugging, when it seemed apparent they they weren’t related to the biracial Judge? Oh, I see…the 30 year-old Judge was adopted by the Judges in ’92. Didn’t realize that…sorry.

What a relief when I came upon a story by Sports Illustrated‘s Thomas Neumann, titled “Baseball World Debates True Home Run King After Judge Hits No. 62.” A story that doesn’t pussy-foot or beat around the bush….thank you!

“One thing is certain after Yankees outfielder Aaron Judge hit his 62nd home run of the season Tuesday,” Neumann began. “The American League has a new home run king.

“The blast lifted Judge past another famous Yankees outfielder, Roger Maris, giving him sole possession of the AL record.

“However, that mark was exceeded six times in the National League during the heyday of the steroid era. Barry Bonds set the MLB record of 73 in 2001. Mark McGwire hit 70 in ’98 and 65 in ’99. Sammy Sosa hit 66 in ’98, 64 in ’01 and 63 in ’99.

“By being associated with performance-enhancing drugs, the feats of Bonds, McGwire and Sosa are discredited by some fans who view their accomplishments as tainted.”

We could celebrate the "clean home run king", whatever that means, or we could watch this two minute collage of balanced breakfast Barry Bonds nuking balls out of the park and into the bay https://t.co/FhoxKxnayk pic.twitter.com/eLm3lU2WUT

— Jeff Veillette (@JeffVeillette) October 5, 2022

Posted on 9.17.21: “Kidman is describing a kind of theatrical experience that happened every so often (i.e., infrequently) in the 20th Century and up until fanboy movies began to take over about a decade ago, give or take, and certainly since wokester cinema became a persistent presence about five or so years ago, and since cable and streaming became the the default end-game for any Hollywood or English-language film with serious aspirations. You can also find ‘the Kidman experience,’ so to speak, at film festivals.

“Otherwise anyone who gets around (Kidman included) knows that the kind of levitation she describes in the spot has all but ceased in the plexes, which have become gladiator arenas and repositories for rancid formulaic crap. Except during award season and even then on a mostly-miss-the-mark basis, the suppliers of commercial fare aren’t the least bit interested in even trying to fulfill the Kidman aesthetic.”

“Paris, October 4h, 2022 — Microids is pleased to announce Pendulo Studios’ latest narrative adventure game, Alfred Hitchcock – Vertigo, which is now available on PlayStation®5, PlayStation®4, Xbox One consoles, Xbox Series X|S and Nintendo Switch. It will launch on October 4th in North America.

“Loosely based on the famous director’s movie of the same name, Alfred Hitchcock – Vertigo is a narrative experience, also available on PC (Steam, GOG, Epic Games Store).

“Alfred Hitchcock – Vertigo tells the story of Ed Miller, a writer who escaped unscathed from a car crash in Brody Canyon, California. Ed insists that he was traveling with his wife and daughter, though nobody was found in the car wreckage. Traumatized by the crash, Ed begins to suffer from severe vertigo. As he starts therapy, Ed will try to uncover the truth behind what really happened on that tragic day.”

And I certainly admired and respected the Real McCoy — a country music legend, a contemporary of Elvis and Jerry Lee, not much younger than Hank Williams.  And I understand the basic thing about  country singers being conservative.  But her musical gifts aside, I always felt a certain distance from Loretta Lynn.  She was a Nixon fan in the early ’70s and a supporter of Donald Trump’s candidacy in ’16.   But Sissy Spacek‘s performance melted my heart, and it obviously came straight from Lynn’s life so I guess I should respect that.  Hard to believe Coal Miner’s Daughter opened 42 years ago. Tommy Lee Jones‘ “Doo” was one of his finest.

…feels a little off here and there.  I’m at a disadvantage as I haven’t yet seen Steven Spielberg‘s The Fabelmans (Universal, 11.11), which Feinberg and a few others are calling the Best Picture front-runner, and I haven’t seen Martin McDonagh‘s The Banshees of Inisherin (Searchlight, 10.21) either.  And we all understand that things are always a little bit vague at this point and that Feinberg will sometimes err on the side of generosity around this time, etc.  But I can at least insert my own spitball projections and hold my finger to the wind, etc.  Boldfaced italics indicate serious HE faith.

Feinberg Frontrunners:

The Fabelmans (Universal) — HE agrees that Spielberg’s Amarcord is a Best Picture nomination shoo-in.  Boil it all down and the basic reactions are that (a) it’s a good, approvable film for cineaste devotionals — the sentiments all fall under the umbrella of positive, supportive, affectionate, Belfast-y, etc. But the serious rocket-fuel enthusiasm seems restricted to the performances by Michelle Williams and Judd Hirsch plus a cameo from a certain fellow who needn’t be named at this point.  Everyone adores the final scene. 

Top Gun: Maverick (Paramount) — Likely to be nominated for the money it made and for affirming the widespread belief that Joe and Jane Popcorn adore grade-A, woke-free entertainment values.

Everything Everywhere All at Once (A24) — A likely Best Picture nominee, but an infuriating Matrix-y multiverse film (over-plotted, superficially trippy, all that hammering, on-the-nose exposition).  The only blessing, really, is that excellent ending.  The absence of  invisible elements (i.e., things that are there but not precisely identified or explored) is a huge issue.  Where would this movie be without the shallow enthusiasms of Millennials and  Zoomers? 

The Banshees of Inisherin (Searchlight) — Hoping to see it soon.

Women Talking (UAR) — Not a chance.  Strictly for glum-faced wokester elites.

Elvis (Warner Bros.) — Liked and respected for the most part, or at least sporadically enjoyed.  But truly loved by no one + everyone hated Tom Hanks‘ Colonel Tom.

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (Netflix)  — Not a serious Best Picture suggestion.

The Woman King (Sony) — Good, energetic, well-crafted, respected.  Might be nominated for political reasons, but most certainly won’t win.

She Said (Universal) — Positive word-of-mouth for a smart, engaging, urban #MeToo film.  Doesn’t quite deliver those Spotlight-ish undercurrents, I’ve heard. but crisp, urgent and well-ordered.  

Tár (Focus) — A dynamic, first-rate, high-style fascination piece.  A chilly mood trip about a steely, not-entirely-there character whom you can’t really “read”, but that’s what gets you at the same time.  Elusive and chilly but carried by Cate Blanchett‘s mesmerizing performance.  Too cold to win.       

Major Feinberg Threats (i.e., Scott has his doubts)

Till (UAR) — Danielle Deadwyler‘s performance is the all of it.
Close (A24) — Brilliant, searing tragedy of innocence destroyed.  Pre-pubescent terrain but devastating.
Triangle of Sadness (Neon) — Not as good as The Square.
Good Night Oppy (Amazon) — Nope.
The Whale (A24) — Haven’t seen it.
Empire of Light (Searchlight) — Excellent yesteryear vibes, fascinating drama. awesome Olivia Colman performance.
Armageddon Time (Focus) — Get past the James Gray shrug factor and it grows in your head.  Gets better every time I think back on it.  
Living (Sony Classics)

HE’s bottom line:  The Fabelmans, Top Gun: Maverick, Everything Everywhere All At Once, She Said, Tar, Close, Empire of Light, Armageddon Time (8)

I have a 10:45 am appointment at the Norwalk DMV (new license and plates), and I’m chilling in a nearby Starbucks.  “Chilling” isn’t actually the word due to a  boom-box couple sitting 15 feet away.  They’re broadcasting (i.e., shouting, bellowing) their conversation, and every customer has no choice but to listen to the dude, who sounds exactly like Delroy Lindo as he turns on the charm.  The Delilah he’s flirting with is no broadcasting slouch herself.  They’re oblivious to the fact that the conversational noise they’re making is as distracting (and certainly as annoying) as a barking dog.  It all comes down to how you were raised.  If you come from a loud family, you’re going to follow suit as an adult.