#Bank of Dave review

[spotlight-report]

"Bank of Dave" Movie Review

"Bank of Dave" Movie Review

In the new tradition of true-life British feelgood, stick-it-to-the-man films, simple people outsmarting snobs is the formula used to elicit audience sympathy. In Bank of Dave, there’s a bit of a hearkening back to the classic Local Hero, where an urban sophisticate is progressively charmed by the small town and eventually goes native. When Hugh (Joel Fry) is tasked by his law firm with…

[spryfilm]

DVD review: “Bank of Dave” (2023)

“Bank of Dave” (2023) Drama Running Time: 107 minutes Written by: Piers Ashworth Directed by: Chris Foggin Featuring: Joel Fry, Phoebe Dynevor, Rory Kinnear, Hugh Bonneville, Paul Kaye, Jo Hartley and Cathy Tyson Dave: “Indulge me just for a day. There’s method in my madness.” Released recently on Netflix is the English based and produced “Bank of Dave” (2023), a drama with comic overtones…

[bob-the-movie-man-film-reviews]

Nickel Boys (15): An Astonishing and Deeply Affecting Movie Masterpiece.

One Mann's Movies Film Review of "Nickel Boys". As the poster screams "A New American Masterpiece" and I quite agree. Stunning. 5/5.

A One Mann’s Movies review of “Nickel Boys” (2024) (From the 2024 London Film Festival). Wow… just Wow. If I hear the words “And the Oscar for Best Picture goes to…. Nickel Boys” I would be surprised… (I doubt it will get the marketing required)… but I would also be delighted. Bob the Movie Man Rating: “Nickel Boys” Plot Summary: It’s Tallahassee in the ’60s. Elwood (Ethan Herisse) is a…

[gutsby]

Wants and Needs

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Joel x Reader

Summary: Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Warnings: 18+. Protected piv. Explicit power imbalance in an exchange of sex for money, so dubcon, technically. Soft dom!Joel. Sex toys. Squirting. Oral (f!receiving). Overstimulation. Daddy kink. Age gap. Praise kink.

Note: Bohanan’s is a steakhouse in San Antonio, TX.

Word count: 8.4k

You wanted a car. Joel needed to cum.

It wasn’t the arrangement a girl your age should’ve made, but what could you do? Your dad drank half of your college funds away, and your mom was long gone.

The next best thing was Mr. Miller, your father’s boss. He’d understood better than anyone what money could buy. What it might do. For him, it was pleasure. For you, it was a future—or what little remained after bills and loans and exorbitantly-priced car repairs bled you dry.

You took the job at the firm on a whim. You didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, though your dad and Joel were. You didn’t want to be done with law school, though 3L had already long since ended, and that dreaded so-called ‘minimum competency’ test was drawing close on the horizon. In short, you couldn’t afford to pay for bar prep.

With Joel, you could.

It was true that tax law paid pretty well, but a part-time job would never really be enough when your family was treading water at all times. Your dad liked to gamble and drink, and your brothers got all of their brains from him.

You got the short end of the stick, plus the receiving end of another. Lucky for you, Joel’s felt pretty good going in.

Today you were somewhere south of Austin. Your truck wouldn’t start last week, so you’d agreed to come along on this business trip knowing full well what you planned on asking your boss as soon as you had a moment alone.

“CDP hearing at…9:45.” You checked the itinerary twice.

“Alright.” Joel nodded.

“Lunch with Javier, Ezra, and Dave at twelve.”

“Mhmm.”

“Phone call with Revenue Officer Acacius at 3:30.”

“For the…?”

“Martells.”

“Okay.”

“I finished Lucien Flores’ Form 433-F for your review and left notes—” You stopped to tap your finger on a short white pile of papers between you and Joel on the desk, “—in the margins. Still need bank statements from him.”

“Lovely.”

Joel eyed the stack at first, but his gaze strayed a little.

“You should probably plan to talk strategy with my dad before Mayor Garcia’s audit tomorrow, too. Looks like a couple non-cash contributions are being disputed now.”

For a second, your eyes flitted up to him, too. It was brief.

“Sure. When’s your daddy free?” he said.

You blinked, then scanned the schedule.

“Looks like five…or six, maybe. He’s got a consult with—”

“I wasn’t talking about your father.”

You looked back up. Joel was smirking, of course. His hand had drifted a comfortable, innocent distance past the papers and across the table, to you. The pair of you happened to be in one of the glass-paneled conference rooms nearest the hotel lobby, so he had to be discreet.

He never let his fingers stray too long on yours in public. Presently, his thumb grazed your knuckles extra slow.

Posing a question, maybe.

You didn’t have the time to be tactful now, unfortunately.

“I need $2,700.”

Joel, your boss, your daddy, whatever, had to pause at that. He didn’t move his hand immediately, but he did stare harder. Longer. He searched your face for the joke.

“$2,700?” he repeated.

“Yes sir,” you answered out of habit, wincing only a little, “My truck stopped running last week, and it’s just…a lot.”

The cost. For Joel, it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket, but in your world, it was a make-or-break, fuck-your-whole-budget-for-the-next-six-months kind of bad. Suddenly, your cheeks felt warmer than they did before, and you forced yourself to look away. Peering out across the wide and gently rolling terrain of San Antonio and trying to pretend there was something thrilling to see. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated asking this.

“I can make the deposit tonight—” Joel started.

“No,” you interrupted. You wanted to turn but couldn’t. You just shook your head and kept staring out there, “Not now, I mean…I need to earn it over time, I just…”

You stumbled over the words. It was like your lips, your tongue, and your teeth were all suffering from the same sort of embarrassment pervading the brain, and you couldn’t bring your mouth to form the sentences right.

I’m not asking for a handout. I need to earn the money.

However ‘earning’ may have been grossly misconstrued in the context, it was a labor all the same. You didn’t love it, but you didn’t hate him, either. Joel was nice, albeit old enough to be your father, and it didn’t seem that he was nearly as predatory or perverse as he could’ve been. You’d been working for him for two months now, and the idea had been your own when the cash had gotten tight.

Back in April, you’d explained to him, calmly, that you couldn’t take the bar exam unless you got some extra money quick. That you wouldn’t accept his charity, but you’d pay him back in other ways. Joel had been against it at first—you were the daughter of his best friend, after all—but eventually, his carnal needs won out over his sense, as every other man would’ve done, you guessed.

At first, you’d started slow, but that hadn’t lasted very long. You fucked him regularly now, though never had you asked for an amount of cash this big out of nowhere.

Joel blinked and put a hand on his hip, like he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say. The silver in his soft, dark locks shone more in this light. He’d lost the smirk.

“You’ve done…plenty.” Now sounding sheepish.

You tried to protest again; Joel stopped you.

“I mean it. Hey, look at me,” he said next.

You did, hesitatingly. You turned from the window, and out of instinct, folded your arms over your chest. Joel paced closer to you and then he was watching. Pausing.

Brushing your arm with his and glancing once over your shoulder to make sure no one else was around to see.

He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

When he pulled away, your skin was practically ablaze.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Joel,” he corrected, quiet, “And you’ve done enough. Let me cover the car just this once, okay? Sweetheart?”

You didn’t realize you were pivoting again. That your gut was doing somersaults and your heart was ready to climb up and out of your throat. Your neck was burning.

It wasn’t even anger you sensed was simmering under the skin until you turned back to him, and your eyes flashed with ire before the words were even spoken.

“I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller. I said I want to pay.”

“It’s Joel. And I said you’ve done enough, so—”

Ire morphed to something more in a blink.

You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.

“Fine,” you huffed, suddenly exasperated, “If you’re so fucking opposed to me paying my way for this one simple thing, I’ll get another guy. Forget I asked.”

It was a low blow, for sure. Joel knew how badly you’d wanted this to stay between just you and him—and he would never dream of seeing you ‘earning your keep’ with anyone else. His expression said as much as soon as he’d heard your words; his whole face hardened at once.

But then you’d turned to leave. You didn’t care what he wanted to tell you, and if you did, you certainly weren’t brave enough to stick around to hear Joel say it then.

So you left. He had a full, busy day ahead of him anyway.

You woke up wet.

In an effort to avoid your boss, you’d run errands all day. Buried your nose in a sea of Civil Procedure notes as soon as you got a second alone, almost vomited seeing the Erie Doctrine, and went back to your hotel room to try and study there. Once you had, you napped instead.

Now your clothes stuck to your skin; the sheets around you were soaked. You peered over the big white duvet holding your body interred and saw smoke overhead.

Or steam.

Yes, definitely steam. It was drifting from the bathroom, where the door was thrown open. You shifted up to sit.

“Tess!” you yelled, “Shut the goddamn door, I’m boiling.”

As a law clerk, you weren’t afforded the luxury of a suite to yourself, so you shared it with the other new grads on work trips like these. Tess Servopoulos loved long, hot showers and never closed the fucking door. You groaned.

And, feeling depleted of all energy from your studies and the stress and the steam searing every inch of your skin, you flopped back in the bed. You kicked the covers off your legs. You’d just lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from your forehead, when an awful, fresh realization dawned.

You glanced at the clock—3:37.

“Fucking hell,” you hissed.

You were supposed to meet your dad at two to get some paperwork signed. You needed to have that filed with the court by four. He was probably engaged somewhere else by now, whether it be a client, a conference, or a couple white lines in the bathroom of a partners-only club downtown, and you wouldn’t have a hope of reaching him here. You rubbed your face and groaned again.

You’d set an alarm for 1:30—you knew you had.

Where the hell was your phone? Why was it so warm? What if he’d called? Aw fuck, he’s probably blown that thing up to hell and back by now. Maybe he was drunk. He had to be. Where was Tess? Where were your pants?

You’d made it up to your feet, clumsily, and faced a full-length mirror. Your bottoms were gone. You closed your eyes and screamed inside, remembering why they were.

“Glad you’re getting some use out of this.”

The second you heard it, your lids flew open. You turned.

And, standing in the warm yellow glow of the bathroom light—holding the culprit, your vibrator, like a prize—was Joel. Naked as the day he was born, save for one thin towel around his hips, and grinning. Moisture glistened on his chest and pooled about his feet, and his hair was smooth, tamed, and combed back neatly from his face.

He waved your silicone toy in the air, and immediately, you regretted giving him your room key the other day.

“I thought we agreed you’d wait for me—”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your voice was thick with sleep. Joel’s own was slow, dulcet, and kind as it always was, even when teasing. When you grit your teeth, he just set the toy aside.

“I’m sorry. Bad timing. I saw your—”

“No.” You threw up both hands at once, suddenly out of breath and fucks to give, “You know what? I don’t care. You need to go. I have to be down at the courthouse—”

In twenty minutes. You cut yourself short and hurried off to find shoes. You could wear other pants. Ask another attorney to sign the forms if you couldn’t reach your dad. Forget that his boss and yours had just caught you with the vibrator he’d bought you last month and try not to feel too humiliated knowing he knew what you’d been doing. It didn’t matter—Joel didn’t matter. You slid on a mismatched pair of slacks and set off toward the door.

Then you had to stop. Joel beat you there, quick as ever.

“Listen. Hey.”

“Will you stop?!”

You pushed at his big and wet, stupidly broad chest. You felt the small grey hairs on his pecs tickle your palms, and for a second, you thought you heard a chuckle.

“You’re gonna make me late—”

“Hey, hey,” Joel said again. Of course it sounded fatherly, “I already signed the POA for Morales, hon, you’re good.”

You’re good.

“You what?” You stared at him in disbelief. How did he even know you needed Frankie’s power of attorney signed in the first place? You figured your dad would’ve mentioned it, but still, it wasn’t really Joel’s form to sign.

“The case is mine now,” he clarified, reading that look, “Wasn’t my first pick, but it is what it is. And your dad—”

Your dad was probably lagging wildly behind on his own caseload, so he’d pushed one off on his friend. Again.

“You can’t keep picking up his slack,” you gritted out, “One of these days it’s gonna bite you both in the ass. You know he shouldn’t be forcing these jobs on you.”

“I offered.”

“You caved.”

“He’s my best friend, what do you expect me to do?”

“Not let him use you! He’s making you feel bad for him.”

“And what if I did? What if I did pity the bastard?”

You scoffed. Then winced, inwardly.

I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller.

From the look on Joel’s face, he seemed to be remembering the same. He shook his head.

“That’s not…” he trailed off. He rubbed his jaw with his hand and started to move from the door, deflating some.

His other arm extended to you, wordlessly, and already anticipated what was sure to follow. You swatted him off, then walked to the bed. You considered sitting but didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms like you always did and turned away, facing the window with a cool, flat affect.

By now, Joel knew better than to take that for what it seemed. He crossed the room to you, treading softly.

His voice turned gentle again, like an apology: “Honey…”

But your gaze was already fixed outside. You frowned.

“Darlin’,” Joel continued, undeterred, “Come on.”

And you didn’t need to see his face to hear the rest: ‘Look at me, please,’ with eyes all comfort and warmth.

“Don’t you have a phone call with an R.O. or something?” Briefly, you recalled Acacius and a stream of other items from the checklist you’d covered that morning, and you had to stop yourself then from straying too far. You blinked once, just as Joel was approaching from behind.

“I cancelled,” he said.

You sighed, “Mr. Miller…”

You knew he hated doing that.

“Joel,” he pressed. Adding, “Something came up.”

You wouldn’t even ask. You shouldn’t care. You felt him standing there, fanning hot breaths across the nape of your neck, and you really couldn’t have taken that worse. You visibly tensed, hands balling into fists at your sides, and—hell, he wouldn’t quit moving now, would he?—Joel bent down. He hesitated, as if gauging your reaction in time, then descended further. He kissed your shoulder.

You cracked; it never took much from him.

For all your inane, ancillary plays at feigning indifference, one movement of Joel’s mouth and your resolve was lost. You clung to words, weakly, but all the rest fell away.

“We don’t…want your charity. Me or my dad. Alright?”

“I know.”

Joel kissed your skin again, then pulled at the strap of your blouse. It fell limply away, and his lips reattached.

Exactly when he’d walked you back to the bed, you couldn’t be sure. By the third or fourth kiss, your stomach was tight, knees weak, and your eyes drawing closed; it didn’t matter to you or to him what had passed before. Your bodies found the bed and blended together.

Tangling, in a way. Tearing blindly at clothes and not saying too much apart from Joel’s soft, sweet words:

“That’s it.”

“I know.”

“Good girl.”

Good girl when he kissed you. Good girl when he stripped you bare. Good girl when his hands roamed the broad, naked expanse of your body and let your own do the same to him. Good girl when your fingers hooked the outline of the towel and tugged it away, your vision filled with a sight you’d come to like more and more each day.

“That’s my girl,” Joel murmured. He cradled your head while you gripped his base, “‘S’yours, baby. All yours.”

Yours. Mine. You weren’t sure you had the sense or self-possession to even know what that meant, especially here. Joel wasn’t a boyfriend. He wasn’t a lover, at least not in the traditional sense. He wore dark wool suits like your father and worked from dawn until dusk every day, practicing law for longer than you’d been alive. Still, the smile above you was sweet. It coaxed you gently as you slid your hand up and down his length, like he sensed this was more like a lesson for you. Learning experience.

“Remember, spit a little first,” he instructed. Then, to demonstrate this point, he brought his fingers to his mouth and wet them quickly. He slipped his touch down to yours and met your gaze while he joined you there.

He rubbed and slicked himself up and he did it with ease. You followed his lead and watched his face contort—crow’s feet pinching even tighter at the sides of his eyes as pleasure began to pool in his gut. He looked pretty. You’d never thought to tell him this, but Joel really had an unparalleled face. It was an old and beautiful thing. For this reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away, maybe to wet your own fingers. Instead, you slipped your hand between your legs, where his hips had come to rest. You worked a slow, light touch against your folds; you were drenched, and it didn’t take long for your fingers to be, too. You moved them back to Joel’s cock.

“Like this?” you ventured.

The man answered with a grunt, at first. Then a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Joel nodded, quiet but emphatic. Trying not to smile too big as he let your touch take over for his, “Just like that, sweet pea. Get it nice an’ wet for daddy.”

You wanted to whimper at that. Something must’ve flashed in your eyes at the intonation of the last word, and the look must’ve suffused your whole expression, because the next thing you knew, Joel was lowering his body to yours. Petting your hair, letting you rub on his shaft as fast as your soft, lithe hands could manage.

“Feel that, baby? Feel how much daddy missed you?”

You did.

Your brow pinched, and you wanted more of that. More from him: those tender, edifying words of praise being mumbled your way while your touch worked him over. Maybe you could’ve helped it, but then again, in this state, maybe you couldn’t—you whimpered for him.

Wriggling your hips against the bed to get your warmth pressed flush with his own, and squeezing him tighter:

“In me, daddy. Please.”

You angled his cock in your trembling grip to plead as much. You knew he liked being the one to push in the first time, so you didn’t move too far with that push, but you begged him with your gaze. You felt him tense a bit.

And just when you sensed he might let you have your way, he moved off. Down. Sliding his torso away from your own, to go lower on the bed, and smirking again.

“I think she needs my tongue first, doesn’t she?”

You wanted to nod. Instead, you flinched. You crawled away from his hold before it could secure itself firmly on either one of your legs, and you had to snag your bottom lip between your teeth to contain that blossoming need. It almost spilled from your mouth in a moan before Joel’s could reach your lower half. Then you scrambled to sit up

“No,” you choked out.

This wasn’t new. While you shook your head, Joel lifted a brow and stood from the bed. He reached behind him.

The night stand.

You closed your eyes.

“This isn’t…supposed to be for me.” you sighed.

In a second, Joel was back where he started, and you didn’t have to steal a glance through your lids to know what he was holding. Slotting himself gently into place.

“Don’t,” he started, sharp, “—say that. I mean it.”

You knew he meant it, but you also knew better than to accept at face value what he said, moving down on you.

This wasn’t part of the deal. Joel’s money was meant to serve his pleasure, not yours. Letting him take you any other way seemed to blur the lines between transaction and affection, and though you’d done this before, it still didn’t feel right. You couldn’t bear having his focus here.

Evidently, though, he could. He’d snatched your vibrator from the night table and lowered his torso to your legs, lips twitching the tiniest bit. ‘Open up. Let me see her.’

Joel was on his stomach, eyes glowing with intrigue.

“Let me see how much she’s missed me, baby.”

The grey matter in your brain might’ve trickled through your ears—the whole thing went to mush at his words. You pushed at his hands, then the top of his head, but clearly, your will was weak. You wanted this. Needed it.

“That’s a good girl. Let daddy have it,” Joel drawled.

You wanted to cry. Or maybe hide. His index and middle fingers prodded at your folds, pulling them apart, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you’d stopped breathing. Joel kissed the slope of your mound with a quiet kind of reverence. The salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin brushed your clit, and your back arched reflexively. Then, remembering why you’d come to this arrangement in the first place, you felt a wave of guilt supplant that pleasure.

You clawed at his head and shook your own, weakly.

“No. W-wanna make you feel good,” you choked out.

Not me.

Not here.

Just let it—

“Fuck,” you keened through your teeth. Joel’s lips made contact with your slick, drooling cunt and, in a second, sucked your nub in between them. He flicked his tongue.

Joel groaned, then pulled away to meet your gaze.

“Feels plenty good f’me,” he assured you in a murmur. Eyes glossy, “She’s so fuckin’ sweet, honey. So pretty.”

Then, as if to punctuate his point, he slid his tongue down the whole wet mess of your slit, and he moaned. He curled the muscle and invaded your sticky, sensitive, precious warm flesh with vigor and force—maybe a little desperation—and you whined at the feeling. Your toes curled tight. It was doubtlessly a sight to see: Joel’s old and weathered head against your young and supple skin, the wiry greys of his chin rubbing your cunt like no man’s his age should’ve been. He took you gently. Forked his fingers over your folds to hold you open for him and then, over and over and over again, just licking stripes. Squelching noises only seemed to goad him on while he buried his nose and savored your taste without reserve. Your stomach clenched with that pleasure, then swelled.

“That’s my girl—so good for me,” Joel said, as though reminding you, gently, it was okay to relish the feeling.

Once more, he suckled your clit in his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue in a quick back-and-forth motion, and the next sensation hit without a breath of warning.

Your belly twisted again, then flushed with hot pleasure.

“My— fuck,” you cried, shuddering with a climax you didn’t know was coming. You held his head and whined.

Joel’s tongue didn’t stop. Your vision blurred. Whatever reprieve you might’ve hoped to find came in the form of his lips drawing back, momentarily, only to sponge little kisses on your still-pulsing heat. Your body jolted back.

“I c— I’m done. I’m done,” you blurted out.

Joel nodded against you. Humming through his kisses:

“I know. Keep going.”

Keep going.

So simple.

Still, you couldn’t breathe. Your sight was inundated with stars. You felt Joel’s stubble on your slit again, only this time, the pleasure was tripled. Your legs trembled, and your hands made fists in his hair. Joel kept on kissing.

And kissed again, again, and again, until your fingers in his locks pulled taut to the roots and your hips were bucking up in his face: ‘Too much, t—oh fuckfuckfuck.’

Then came a buzz. Skirting your legs in a blink, before diving to meet Joel’s mouth on your clit. You shrieked.

“I know, I know,” Joel joined, as though soothing a wound while he maneuvered the vibrator. Lifting his head and then kissing your thigh, “I know. You’re alright.”

You wanted to sob; you felt ready to burst. You trusted Joel’s judgment but had never been subjected to this sort of pleasure. What if it was more than you could take?

“I’m here.”

Joel’s words were slow to crawl off his tongue, but their intent was clear. You writhed once more, and he was kissing your skin, rubbing your thighs, and taking the toy to your clit with a warm, devoted touch. He wasn’t cruel.

He had a glint in his gaze when you met it, like he knew you wouldn’t accept this feeling alone—but he wanted you to. He wanted the indulgence to be your own and an end in itself. There was care in his touch, tender praise with every caress, and you guessed this was intentional. Joel needed you to know this was more than only his.

You felt more naked than you’d ever been: soaking the sheets with your last release, fresh arousal trickling out, Joel’s spit mixing with your nectar and sweat and pressing you down in the bed. And nudging you, gently.

“‘S’okay, baby. You’re alright. That feels nice, doesn’t i—”

“Kiss me.”

It came out faster than you could even try and stop it. You weren’t sure why you said it. The words were acerbic on your tongue—you hated ever sounding needy—but then your mind and your mouth and your worries were all silenced at once when Joel came clambering up for you.

His lips were wet and grinning as he kissed you. He held the vibrator hostage between your legs while his body pressed tight against yours. His movements slowed.

Then, as if he’d crawled in your head and read your mind:

“It’s okay to need me, baby. It’s okay to want this.”

His hips made that assurance even clearer. Joel reached down and took the vibrator again, increasing the friction between your groin and his while he pressed the buzzing toy to your clit. You whined into his mouth at the feeling.

Your eyes rolled back, and the pleasure soared. This morning, you might’ve bristled at the words he’d just spoken, but here, in this bed, it felt okay. It felt safe.

Joel felt safe, for once, and you weren’t sure how to keep that idea from sticking—how to reconcile the notion of swapping sex for cash with a man for months on end, and then this. Your stomach churned. He held your face and kissed you more, and your clit throbbed and ached. Before you could ponder your thoughts a second longer, a white-hot pleasure washed over, and you came again.

“Good girl,” Joel cooed.

Throbbing even more this time.

“That’s a sweet girl. That’s my baby.”

All but aching with desire. Feeling it double.

“Cum for daddy, that’s it. Keep going.”

Feeling it trickle down your legs.

“She’s feelin’ real good, huh?”

You could barely breathe.

You whined. Felt something splinter between your thighs and then more of it, more of you and that slick, oozing pleasure and Joel’s groans, overjoyed—‘Making a fucking mess’a daddy, isn’t she? She feel that good?’—and by ‘that good’ you guessed it was more than normal.

This was more warmth than usual. Somewhere in the midst of your own mind-numbing pleasure, you’d let out a spurt, sticky and wet. It now coated the hairs on Joel’s tummy, and while his skin shone, his eyes were brighter. He flitted a look to you, gaze flaring, and slid down. Low.

Back to where he was before. Moving the buzzing pink bullet aside and letting his mouth assume its place.

Of course, you yelped.

“Joel!”

You winced, both from saying his name and feeling so raw. Joel grinned at the sound and suckled your clit.

It was drenched. You and Joel, too, were doused all over and practically gleaming under the rays of late afternoon sun then pouring through the window. For a second, you cast a look outside like you had before, but it was only to brace your body for the bliss at hand. You stared and felt a crude, carnal shockwave seize you head to toe. It traveled fast and made you release, again, or else just continue the same flow as before—and this time, into Joel’s waiting mouth. He lapped at you feverishly now.

He squeezed your legs and licked you dry. He worked in merciless circles, like his life might have depended on making you stay at this peak. All the while, you were tearing at his hair. Riding his face as your body fell apart.

That was alright. This pleasure was yours for now, but there was still time yet to make it worth his while, you reasoned in a half-intoxicated state. Your legs vibrated as you started to crawl—limp—back up in the bed and, numb with elation and a desperate need to please, you stretched your arm toward the night stand. You huffed.

You reached blindly but got it. The box. Weak fingers found the first plastic strip and tore yourself a square. Then, lifting it to Joel, you ignored the last stabs of pleasure between your legs. This was fun, but still his.

“Go on,” you told him, breathless, “Fuck me.”

Joel quirked a brow. He took the condom, still panting himself. He brought the latex to his tip out of habit, then:

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Your head was swimming. Somewhere entrenched in the furthest recesses of your brain you could feel it, that dizzying, self-centered pleasure. You pushed it back.

You suffocated it, and you spread your legs wide for him. You let him lay you down and tug the rubber over his cock, then nudge at your hips to situate himself in just the right way. How he liked it. He seemed to be content, and your heart swelled. In this airy, buoyant state, you felt more at ease to speak, sure that he’d understand.

“This should cover some of it, right?” you panted out.

Joel slowed.

“What?”

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eager to keep going. But you steeled yourself, just barely, then.

“Sex. Now,” you said, “It’ll cover some of my car repairs.”

Instead of nodding like you’d expected, Joel only blinked. Then you opened your mouth to speak again, and his body stopped you cold. He planted a hand beside your head on the pillow and raised his hips; you felt his heat leave with it. You reached for his backside immediately, to try and pull him back into that pre-missionary position he’d held, when Joel brushed you off. His face was hard.

“Money?” he quipped.

“Yeah,” you started, then remembered how you talked outside of the bedroom, when he seemed more serious, “We’ll go again. All week. You can even put it in my—”

Joel balked, like you’d just slapped him across the face.

“No,” he said, sharp.

“No,” he repeated, more to himself this second time. Almost as though he couldn’t believe what you were suggesting—and making him guilty by association.

Joel clenched your pillow like a vice and shook his head.

“You’re not getting paid for this,” he finished, and when your gaze penetrated his, confused, he squeezed harder.

“Thought you wanted it.” Joel added, almost shamefully.

“I do! I do…I just—” you sputtered.

“What? Think you need to offer up a week and a half of fucking to make it worth my time? Is that what this is?”

Well, in a way, maybe.

You weren’t sure what to say. Former dizzying bliss was dwindling fast, and now you were facing him cold. Sober.

Increasingly irritated, again.

“I just need money, Mr. Miller—”

“It’s Joel, hon,” he bit back, for the fourth time that day. His eyes flared with something more, maybe annoyance, but then he was tempering it just as fast. He ran a hand through his damp grey hair and shook his head, pausing, “It’s Joel. I know you need the money, baby, but it’s—”

“It’s what we agreed,” you protested, “What I need—”

“Well it’s not what I want!” Joel barked.

Anger surged again, and this time, evidently, the feeling was harder to keep at bay. He was scarcely able to rein in his features, settling on a grave little scowl instead of a frown, and he sucked in shorter, shallower breaths through his nose. You felt him let your pillow go.

“Forget it—the cash.” Joel grit his teeth even tighter, “Forget these payments and the goddamn allowance I’ve had you on. I can’t do that anymore. It’s not right.”

Your heart sank.

You didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Joel’s voice resumed on its own.

“Whatever you want, whatever you need, sweetheart…”

He stopped. Silence followed, then stretched on for one full, terrible minute. In that interim, you could see his chest rise and fall fast. He was trying to slow it down.

“Whatever you need paid off, I’ll do it. Anything. You don’t have to touch me again. It was wrong of me to allow that in the first place,” he rejoined, tone cooling.

Sounding guilty, too.

Above you, Joel didn’t seem keen on holding your gaze, so he fixed his stare someplace on the headboard instead. Then he moved off your body, slowly.

In spite of the distance he attempted to give, he was still crowding your space. Looming large and bare and weary as you’d ever seen him, knees shuffling back awkwardly through a mass of cotton sheets while his eyes shifted low. Away. The rest of him filled your lungs with a heady cologne scent and your stomach with a thousand tiny blades—you were hurt that he wasn’t sticking to his end of the bargain. You were mad that he was trying to claim the moral high ground now, after everything you’d done.

Mostly, though, you were just upset that you felt like you were losing someone close. That Joel Miller was more of a confidant, friend, and father figure than your own dad had ever been, and that got all fucked up over money. Your lips pursed, and something stung behind your eyes when you reached for him again. Your throat stung, too.

“The reason I agreed to do this,” Joel went on, and the ache in your head worsened when he winced from your touch, “was ‘cause I didn’t want you getting ‘help’ from anyone else. I was selfish. And that’s not an excuse…”

He started to move off, hand dropping from yours.

“…but it’s the truth. I’m sorry.”

At length, Joel found your gaze, and the eyes said it all over again: I’m sorry. You might’ve believed them, too.

But you were you, and you couldn’t help but press:

“Why?”

Your voice was small. Joel was trying to stand from the bed, but you grabbed at his hand again and made him meet your eyes. Confusion was painted across his own.

Kneeling in front of him, curious, you tried to clarify.

“Why’d it have to be you?”

Judging from Joel’s expression as soon as you did, you got the sense that this question made him feel dumb. He frowned, but he held your stare and answered anyway.

“Because I wanted you first,” he replied, “Before all this.”

Your stomach twisted. He did?

You didn’t need to ask twice to know what that meant. What he’d said, in words and with a look, was enough. Still, it was always in you to know more, to be sure, so you crept a little closer. You let your hands roam up and—

“No,” Joel said, as soon as your fingers reached his side.

You’d just wanted to feel him, maybe prod him further on what he’d just said through acts that didn’t require verbal articulation, but he refused. He backed up in bed.

“This isn’t about—” he started, low.

“Sex. I know,” you answered for him. Then your touch grazed his thigh, and you were dying to have more. To be told in a way you both knew and understood. To touch, “You want me to believe you really…liked me before?”

“More than you know.”

There was that blunt, open pragmatism in the Joel you’d always known. Perhaps guided by natural inclinations, or else your hand on his leg, drawing higher. Moving closer.

Showing skepticism through your eyes and the hint of a playful, disbelieving smile starting to curl at your lips.

“When you met me?” you teased.

You’d known of Joel for years, and had met him a couple times as a teenager at various firm holiday functions. You probably hadn’t exchanged more than ten words altogether before starting law school a few years back.

“Hell no,” Joel answered, fast, “When you started work.”

His gaze was timid again. It was fixed on his thigh where you’d started to slide your index up the warm, muscled expanse of his skin, and though you could tell he was more than hesitant, you wanted to know. Wanted to feel.

It wasn’t so easy convincing a man you’d been working for—and fucking, largely without feeling—to pay bills that you wanted him here and now. But you needed to try.

That maybe, somewhere along the way, you’d come to want him, too. That cash wasn’t the only thing at stake.

You crawled between his legs, then straddled his hips.

Your lips smiling still as you did: “How much?”

Joel blinked back. Dazed.

“What do you m—”

“How much did you like me? When did it start?”

Joel sighed when your heat rubbed his. He tried grabbing ahold of your hips, when you glanced down and saw he’d already discarded the last condom. You couldn’t have that if you wanted to continue this talk.

You reached back and grabbed another.

“Darlin’,” Joel said, strained, “We shouldn’t…”

“Says who?”

You’d already worked the rubber halfway down his length when his heavy-lidded gaze locked with yours. You saw lust there, mixed with worry. Curiosity. You kept going.

“Says your dad, if he ever finds out what I’ve done to his little girl,” Joel replied, closing his eyes at the feeling.

You had the latex worked down to the base of him when you smiled. Felt him seize your hips, lids fluttering open to find you in their soft, glossy stare, and you felt better. Like clockwork, you went together and joined, at last. You felt Joel squeeze your backside and groan when you first sank down to take him whole. You shuddered, too.

But you tried to steady your voice as you spoke.

“Semantics, Miller,” you told him, only faltering a little, “Things you are ‘doing’ to his little girl. Not just ‘done.’”

There, you had a point. Surely your father would have had some choice words for his business partner and best friend if he knew how far Joel’s cock was currently stuffed inside your tight, wet cunt. It might even piss him off, if he weren’t too drunk to receive the news himself.

Joel blinked hard, signaling that he knew this too, and presently watched your body swallow all eight inches at once, after you’d raised yourself up to just the tip and sank back. Your ass fell to his groin with an obscene sort of squelch, and your walls involuntarily clenched. You both let out sounds of pleasure, and held on tighter.

Your hands on his chest for stability, while one of his own held your hip and the other fumbled around for your clit, gliding through the sheen of your arousal on his front. You rocked your hips and felt how much it really was—how you’d drenched his whole abdomen with your last release. You smiled at this and stared, pleased with the pretty, sticky display you’d laid bare all over Joel’s belly.

When Joel wasn’t watching you ride, he stared there too.

“Not so ‘little’ anymore,” he mused quietly. Then he looked up to find your eyes, seeing them as glazed as his, “And I ‘like’ you, hon. Present tense. Not just…‘liked.’”

Alright.

“How much?”

You wanted to say it with some confidence. Nonchalance. Then Joel’s cock nicked a particularly sensitive ridge inside your walls, and that thought was gone as quick as it had come. You gripped the flesh of his upper chest and rolled your hips harder. Let out your breaths in little fractured whimpers while you rode him more. Another sweet feeling twisted low in your gut.

With just a glimpse of that, Joel moved his hand from your heat up past your hips and waist, to squeeze one of your breasts. His fingers were wet. You could feel them, equal parts warmth and wanton yearning as the pads pinched your nipple and gave it a firm tug. He grunted.

Clearly, there was more to it than just the touching and feeling for him—Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of your skin as it glistened with the arousal he’d just smeared. He thumbed at the wet, stiff peak and swallowed. And, just as you were about to adjust the rhythm of your hips bouncing on him, his free hand joined the first and pulled you down. You cried feeling his cock wedge deep; your hands fell to either side of his body when he yanked your face down to his. He fucked up into you from underneath

You squealed, soft, “Joel!”

He kissed your open mouth. Made you lay flat overtop him while he fucked your dripping hole. You whimpered.

“Joel—” Again.

“I like you so much, sweetheart,” he said, in answer to your last question, lips close, “Does she like me too?”

As if to save him the trouble of a swift reply in words, your body told him instead. You squeezed around his cock, and with another desperate cry, bit his shoulder. He hammered your poor, aching pussy with a groan of his own, and he held your body down to his. Grinning.

Kissing the side of your head while he pounded away. Stroking your hair, “Is that a ‘yes’? She like her daddy?”

Drool was bound to slip out of your mouth any second. Your lips were locked in a permanent ‘o’ while he drilled from under you on the bed. Still, you managed to nod.

“Uh-huh—oh, fuck, fuck, da-ddy. Yes, daddy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as another blistering wave seared your insides. Joel was relentless with his thrusts now, driving himself in and out without stopping or slowing. He must’ve known you were close. He was too, judging by the sounds of his grunts and hushed tone.

“Let daddy take care of her then, baby. All of her. OK?”

His words trickled through your ear as sweet as honey. His cock was less kind, but that was okay—you liked it.

You loved him here. Taking care of you. Her. Everything.

And, in this half-coherent state of fuckdrunk pleasure, you were tempted to give in to whatever he begged.

It would be so easy. Joel cradled your face in his hand, practically beaming with pride while he fucked you over and over, and your legs were spread, walls were stretched, eyes practically rolling back, and you felt more secure than you’d been in ages. Joel could care for you.

He rubbed his thumb over your cheek and hummed.

“Daddy’s got you,” he said, voice all warm assurance.

Nudging you closer and closer to your peak—and perhaps some other form of surrender. Release.

Submission?

Joel wouldn’t be so bad for that.

He could fuck you well and leave you content. Make you forget what it meant to be strapped for cash and saddled with guilt and worry over bills every month. Joel could provide, for now. His eyes said as much; his fingers threaded through your hair and rubbed your scalp. He cupped your face, all fifty-six years in his own looking as handsome as they’d ever been. He felt good. He felt safe.

You were hot. Your legs trembled and ached.

“Is that something you’d want?” he pressed.

And, still holding Joel’s gaze with a heavy-lidded, fucked out look of your own, you surprised yourself by nodding, slowly. Your body was spent, but the curve on your lips, then his, was sincere; Joel nodded back as he grinned.

“Yeah? You mean it, sweetheart?”

He flipped you both over and got on top, never breaking apart. You wound your legs around his back and let him cup your cheeks again, and from this angle, you felt it. You wouldn’t try and fight it now; you just kissed him.

Then you came for a third time, walls clenching and squeezing and gushing again, smearing Joel’s front as he fucked you right through it. His groans were a little more subdued than yours, but in their timbre, you could hear his desperation. He emptied himself inside you, in the condom, and kept holding your face all the while.

You felt a low pulse between your legs. Then another. And another. And another. Joel’s hips began to still, his hefty greying belly bumping lightly against your skin while he drained what was left in his balls, and you swore that his bones might’ve creaked from the sheer force of those final thrusts. He seemed exhausted. Somehow, though, the man looked even better in this state—haggard and worn as he was, the face above your own was soft. Smiling, faintly, and kissing you constantly.

You couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it; you were far too tired and fucked out of your mind to protest right now.

Joel trailed a path with his lips from your chin to your ear. He kissed the hinge of your jaw and sank himself deeper.

“Mr.—” But you caught yourself, shortly, “…Joel.”

He lifted his head, not apologetic in the least.

“Maybe just one more—” he started.

“No,” you finished for him, sharp.

Still smiling, but with your eyes on him in a thinly veiled threat. Joel accepted that and kept his dick where it was.

What followed was gradual but natural enough. A little awkward as you broached that uncharted territory of remaining in the other’s presence after the deed was done, but Joel didn’t seem like he wanted to leave the bed, and you had nowhere else to go until dinner with your dad at eight. There was a moment you wanted to separate your body from Joel’s, if only to slip off to the bathroom by yourself, but the man just held you closer.

“You think your old man will mind if I joined tonight?”

Here the fuck we go.

“He’ll kill you.”

You pushed hard against his hold without getting so much as an inch of give. Joel had to fight back a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“Because,” you began in a huff. Wriggling with very little success in his arms, while you were pinned in missionary, “I smell like you. You smell like me. My dad’s a drunk, but he can sniff stuff like that out in a heartbeat. Too risky.”

You punctuated those words with a still more serious look, but before you could nudge at his chest again or say something more, you were forced to swallow a scream. Joel’s grip tightened even more, and he moved to stand up from the bed—with you still in his arms and impaled on his cock. He started to walk to the bathroom.

“Great. Shower’s got plenty of room for the two of us.”

“Joel!”

“Glad I don’t have to keep reminding you of my name.”

His voice was smug. Your gaze was hard. Joel was still hard himself, amazingly, and you almost groaned when you felt the head of his cock bump somewhere soft and sensitive inside. He toted you into the big, bright room.

“If not tonight, how ‘bout tomorrow? Just you and me.”

He would never stop this shit. He reached for the faucet.

“Still too dangerous. You know that,” you chided. Your resolve only wavered a little when you felt the hot water start to pelt at your back. Joel closed the glass door, “Besides…I need to focus on figuring my shit out right now. Work and bills and getting myself a rental car soon.”

Joel paused. He turned, still holding you.

Then, just as swiftly as he’d stepped inside, he carried you right back out of the shower. You whined in protest.

He took you over to the bed and set you down. He left to find his wallet and keys. You might’ve been tempted to voice your displeasure in some other way—namely, by marching back to the bathroom, locking the door, and bathing alone—but before you could speak a word, Joel was back. He looked down at you and held out his fist.

“What’s—”

“Your dad and me’ll be up to our eyeballs in bullshit working the Garcia audit tomorrow—and I know you don’t want him seeing us leave together anywhere—so we can meet at Bohanan’s at six. How does that sound?”

You blinked.

“I don’t…have a car.”

Joel opened his hand. Keys dropped out.

In a single glance, you could see they weren’t his.

Joel drove a garish Super Duty F-450, not an Audi. The cogs were quick to turn in your head, but clearly not fast enough, because Joel was closing your fingers over the keys before you could breathe so much as a syllable to him. When you did, it came out more like a stutter. Palpably mad but far too rattled to get much out:

“Joel, I-I can’t—”

“I’ve been meaning to buy one anyw—”

“You’re insane,” you started to push the keys back, and for some reason, your heart was thudding extra hard as you did. You went on, unblinking, “You don’t…need to.”

“I want to.”

Joel’s hands were warm when he pressed both of his palms to secure yours between them. He could probably feel the way it shook a little, but he didn’t seem to care. His gaze was too busy trying to find, and hold, your own while you swallowed and stared and racked your numb brain for any words of defiance. At length, nothing came.

All you could do was meet that look. In the soft brown irises above, you could see it all—the need to comfort, and care, and provide where he could, offer better than the hand you’d been dealt and maybe, interspersed with those feelings somewhere, a simpler need in him to give.

For once, you wanted to believe it.

Fun fact: This fic was inspired by true events‼️💯 My life 😫🤪😤😈 Like reader, my truck is also busted as SHIT and needs $2,700 in repairs!!!! Unlike reader, I will not be sucking and fucking Joel Miller to recoup my losses (not asking for donations, just wanted to give y’all a giggle at my misfortune LOL)

[motherbookerblog]

Film Review - Bank of Dave (2023)

⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 2.5 out of 5. Yet again, I’m writing a review of a film I wasn’t expecting to watch this week. I was supposed to be watching Wakanda Forever but didn’t give myself enough time. So, I ended up going for this. I was probably going to watch it anyway though. Mostly because of Rory Kinnear. He’s one of our greatest stage actors but I’ve never seen him in a film role worthy of his…

[fibula-rasa]

Lost, but Not Forgotten: Two Kinds of Women (1922)

Alternate Title: Judith of Blue Lake Ranch

Direction: Colin Campbell & George C. Bertholon (assistant)

Adapted Scenario: Winifred Dunn

Based on: Judith of Blue Lake Ranch by Jackson Gregory (novel)

Production Manager: R.J. Tobin

Camera: Dev Jennings

Editing: Pauline Frederick (editing supervisor), Colin Campbell, & Dev Jennings

Studio: Robertson-Cole (Production & Distribution)

Performers: Pauline Frederick, Tom Santschi, Charles Clary, Dave Winter, Eugene Pallette, Billy Elmer, Jack Curtis, Jim Barley, Sam Appel, Otis Harlan, Clarissa Selwynne, Jean Calhoun, Tom Bates, Lydia Yeamans Titus, Frank Clark, Bud Sterling, Elise Collins, Joseph Singleton, & Stanhope Wheatcroft (not mentioned after release, but listed during production: L.C. Shumway)

Premiere: Opened at Loew’s State Theatre on 3 February 1922; preview screenings for reviewers in NYC, 27 January

Status: presumed entirely lost

Length: 6 reels,  ~6,000 feet (a few sources say 5, most say 6)

Synopsis (synthesized from magazine summaries of the plot):

Judith Sanford (Frederick) inherits the sizable Blue Lake Ranch after the unexpected death of her father. Upon her arrival, she discovers that the ranch’s manager, Trevors (Clary), has been systematically undermining the value of the ranch. Judith confronts him, fires him, and wings him with her pistol as severance. 

The horse foreman, Bud Lee (Santschi), had suspected Trevors’ dirty dealing, but questions if he can work for a woman. Regardless of his doubts, Bud respects Judith’s goals and remains loyal to the ranch.

As there are still men working on the ranch loyal to Trevors, Judith’s employees are divided. One of Trevors’ hires, Quinnion (Curtis) rebukes Judith and suggests she can’t even ride. She challenges him to bring her a horse he thinks she can’t ride. Judith successfully rides the wild broncho and Quinnion is cowed, leaving the ranch bitterly. The incident wins Judith the respect of the men, including Bud and Carson (Pallette), the cattle foreman.

Judith’s next point of action is tracking down the staff Trevors ousted, most importantly the ranch vet, Doc Tripp (Clark). Tripp returns and uncovers that disease-infected animals have been intentionally introduced to the ranch’s stock. Judith runs Trevors’ vet, Crowdy (Appel), off the ranch.

Hampton, a city boy and one-third owner of the ranch, is unhappy when he hears of Trevors’ firing and decides to pay a visit to Blue Lake. (In reality, he’s dodging his creditors.) The visiting socialites are rankled by Judith’s cowgirl togs and no-nonsense demeanor. Alternately, the ultra ladylike Marcia (Calhoun), Hampton’s fiancee, finds a new devotee in Bud.

On the night of their arrival, Judith learns that the employee she sent to collect the payroll has been robbed. Bud races to the bank overnight to return to pay the staff the following day. As Bud is on his way back, his horse is shot out from under him, but he manages to reach the ranch just in time.

That night, Bud and Judith set out to track down the bandits and recover the stolen payroll. At a cabin in the mountains, they catch the robber after a shootout and find it’s the discharged vet, Crowdy. They agree to stay overnight to guard the injured Crowdy. To pass the time, Judith pulls a book from an unexpectedly well-stocked library in the cabin and sees that the books belong to Bud! They’re interrupted when Quinnion attacks to save Crowdy and another shootout ensues.

Fortunately, Judith’s absence from the ranch was noticed by Hampton. He has mounted up with Bud’s assistant, Tommy, and they arrive in time to save the pair and manage to capture another of Trevors’ agents, Benny (Barley). Benny is locked up, but is freed overnight, meaning there are still more of Trevors’ men lurking. Bud pledges his loyalty to Judith, but then has a romantic foray with Marcia.

Despite the hubbub, the annual Blue Lake dance is held. Carson kits out the workers in suits mail-ordered from Sears-Roebuck, which they accessorise with guns and ammo belts. Bud, it turns out, has a tailored suit of his own that he unpacks and presses for the occasion. He is bewildered when he arrives at the dance and sees a perfectly feminine Judith in a fashionable Parisian gown. Fully enamored with “the real Judith,” Bud whisks her off to the porch and kisses her.

Judith is surprised to find an urgent note from Doc Tripp awaiting her after the dance. The note explains that he has uncovered another Trevors mole and has been wounded. Judith rushes to Tripp, but is waylaid and kidnapped. She manages to remove the mask from one of her abductors and it’s Trevors himself! 

Three days pass. Hampton suddenly orders Carson to prepare 500 head of cattle to be sold at a loss. Immediately suspicious, Bud rides to the ranch house and is told that Judith left for San Francisco three days prior. Given Hampton’s fishy assumption of command, Bud and Carson tie him up while they investigate Judith’s real whereabouts. They discover the forged note and confirm with Tripp that he didn’t write it. With mistrust toward Hampton building, they place him under guard and ride to confront Trevors.

In all that time, Judith has been kept prisoner in the mountains by Quinnion. When Quinnion attacks her, Judith seizes an opportunity to escape, but quickly learns that her prison is set among perilous cliffs. Quinnion gives chase, they struggle, and he plummets to his death. Hopelessly lost and exhausted from her ordeal, Judith makes a last ditch effort for rescue by lighting a signal fire before losing consciousness.

Bud and Carson find Trevors and a wild fist fight breaks out. Bud trounces Trevors and Trevors is forced to leave town for good, but not before revealing where he’s hidden Judith. Bud rescues Judith and they all return to the ranch. After they have had time to recover from their respective tribulations, Bud and Judith reunite and embrace.

——— ——— ———

Points of Interest:

Pauline Frederick made 55 silent feature films in her career. Of those 55 films 45-6 of the films are presumed lost or mostly lost. [One film’s status is unclear ATM.] Of the 9 known to survive, 3 are incomplete (2 are missing at least one reel and the 3rd survives in an abridged cut).  Of the surviving 9, three have had home video releases [Three Women (1924), Devil’s Island (1926), and Smouldering Fires (1925)]. Of the 6 surviving films that haven’t had home-video release, 2 have been screened publicly in the past decade [The Love the Lives (1917) and The Moment Before (1916)]. A very rough record for a big star (who didn’t spend most of their career at Fox) to only have a 16-18% survival rate.

——— ——— ———

Winifred Dunn, prolific writer from a young age working in many genres, wrote/edited 33 silent features, 20 of which are presumed lost.

——— ——— ———

Two Kinds of Women was part of the schedule of R-C Pictures’ releases for early 1922. This was a crucial moment in the history of the company, as it was soon after re-organized into F.B.O. The founders exited the company, but so did Pauline Frederick, Sessue Hayakawa, Tsuru Aoki, and Doris May—their biggest stars going into 1922. 

While the contemporary critical response to TKoW was generally positive and exhibitors across the US and Canada cited good ticket sales, it didn’t leave much of a legacy. At least one contemporary critic, Laurence Reid, considered the film of decent quality but ultimately forgettable. Whether TKoW would have stood the test of time or not, we can’t know. Lost or not, I’m sure the re-organization of TKoW’s distributor affected its potential for long-term popularity. There is at least one instance from after the re-org of a theatre owner receiving a faulty print of the film. So, even by 1923, it was hard to come by a decent print of TKoW.

The reason I’m confident in placing blame on R-C/F.B.O. is that, of the slate of 20 films they released in late 1921 and early 1922, 16 are currently presumed lost and only 3 appear to be completely extant:

Lost: The Lure of Jade, The Sting of the Lash, The Foolish Age, Eden and Return, Five Days to Live, The Vermillion Pencil, A Wife’s Awakening, Silent Years, The Call of Home, The Barricade,Two Kinds of Women, Boy Crazy, Salvage, The Glory of Clementina, Gay and Devilish, and At the Stage Door  Extant: Where Lights Are Low, The Swamp (would live to see this one BTW), and Beyond the Rainbow

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Transcribed Sources & Annotations over on the WMM Blog!

[popculturebuffet]

Belated 420 Special: Cartoon All-Stars To The Rescue: A Million Wonderful Ways to Say Blaze It (comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Happy belated 420 you happy people! I'm jake, I review cartoons and to celebrate a drug that genuinely helps people relax, with anxiety and really took way too long to get legalized, let's talk about a goofy cartoon from the 1990 that treats it with the grace and subtely you've come to k now from anti drug psas.

Yes folks we're talking about Cartoon All Stars to the Rescue, the 1990 drug PSA that's here to talk about how the devil's weed will destroy your brain, lead you to injecting crack, and force all your faviorite cartoons and alf to stage an intervention.

And you'd expect that last part to be in quotations, being whoever the networks could scrape together. Instead.. it's an entirely stacked lineup of some of the biggest cartoons of the 80's, two all time stars, most from franchises that in one way or another are either still here or still iconic enough their in the public conciousness: We have Michealngelo of the tmnt, Kermit, Piggy and Gonzo of the muppet Babies, Alvin and the Chipmunks, Bugs and Daffy, Pooh Bear and Tigger too, Slimer, Garfield, Huey, Dewey and Louie, The Smurfs and … Alf.

A lot of studios went in on this and every children's cartoon network aired this thing. Granted they all agreed to a limited release, so it hasn't gotten a remaster or anything since airing, but said legal hurdles mean that since no one technically owns it, no one can yank it off youtube.

So I not only got to watch it but I can present those of you who haven't seen it with one of the most hilariously inept psas and crossovers of all time. Join me under the cut as these cartoon all stars jump to the rescue!

We open with what brings all these grand and wonderful characters together… in the bedroom of young Corey, SOMEONE'S STOLEN HER PIGGY BANK, and all her toys, posters, records, garfiled lamps and framed pictures of alf, what every child in the 1980's had in their bedroom.

Come to life. How?

Given slimer just.. passes through the wall she could just be a ghost and no one realizes it. Look if you came for logic from a 90's drug psa where instead of I don't know, saving some lost orphans, fighting skeletor or helping the autobots in their endless battle to destroy the evil forces of the decipticons, all these iconic characters are trying to save a piggy bank, you must be pretty pedantic when your high.

I will say that for all the speical's goofyness.. they do get the characters down really well. Alvin has to be dragged into it and Garfileld is happy just being a lamp until Alf threatens to eat him. For as mockable as this thing is.. they did put in actual effort. It's easy to forget when the team of Garfield, Alf and the Chipmunks are going into Corey's brothers room to find the stolen piggy, but they did actually try with this thing. The characters are on point the plot is just bonkers, with Corey's brother not only pouring over her money, but also having a smoke monster following him…. okay so maybe Corey and her brother are stand users and Pooh Bear is her stand. Maybe this is just a ghost since again, ghost busters are real. Maybe this is what the phantom from Scooby Doo and the Cyber Chase did for a living before getting sober. I don't know for sure

What I do know for sure is that Simon from Alivn and the Chip Munks knows what Weed is and says it's marjuana and that it's the best thing ever. I'm also entirely convinced Simon DOES smoke up as Alvin calls the drugs a "chemistry experiment" and Simon can recongize rolling papers, baggied up weed and smoking impliments on sight despite being ten. I mean.. it would explain how he's so chill despite also being perpetually annoyed by his brother, can't blame him. All I ask is maybe he wait a few more years till high school and share with dave.

Corey comes in to talk to micheal whose response is GET OUT YOUR NOT MY DAD I FOUND THIS BANK YEAH FOUND IT. FOR DRUGS. GET OUT. The two have had a strained relationship since Micheal started getting all sticky icky and she dosen't understand why. It's one of the few parts of the special that actually works: while it's still midly hilarious because it's weed, the idea of a small child who dosen't know HOW to deal with a sibling whose addicted is a great one. She spends the special confused, heartbroken and having no idea why her brother suddenly hates her. Her parents are no help: her mom seems oblivious to it and her dad is a raging alcholic as her mom's reponse to him noticing two beers missing is to assume he drank them in a stupor. I mean… i'm a teetotaler, but I do the same thing with my sodas. Shit is expesive. You gotta know what you have left in case you need more. This guy just comes off oblivious , not

At any rate the cartoons decide they need to stage an intervention for micheal, a sentence I need to remind you i'm getting PAID to write. I love this job so damn much. Thank you kevin. Pooh stays to guard corey because when you think someone to protect a small child you think Pooh Bear.. actually you do. He's cuddly, kind and reassuring and knows all about drug abuse after Christopher Robin came back from the war. Good call writers. Micheal goes to the arcade to chill with his buddies, all of who also do drugs and one of whom just.. casually plans to hand out some crack. Fun fact I didn't realize Crack was another form of cocaine. Their still diffrent drugs, Crack is the harder smoked form of it while Cocaine is the snortable kind that wears cool sunglasses. Aint' that right terry?

Yeah he be jammin. I love Smoke, the shadowy smoke monster what follows MIcheal I mentioned earlier's reaction of "aw yeah, crack!". Though honestly he strikes me more as the cocaine type but I get suburban kids can't really affor buisnessman coke, so he'll have his young charge smoke it up. Micheal IS reluctant to go full on cokey bryant though and thankfully a cop showing up scatters them.. and even more thankfully given this was the war on drugs it's just Bugs Bunny in a cop hat. Seriously just having some weed would get a subruban white kid like micheal jailed for like.. a week. My boy bugs has an uphill battle naturally, as Micheal is all "YOUR NOT MY DAD AND THIS WAS MY CHOICE. DRUGS ARE MY FRIEND! ARE YOU MY FRIEND BUGS BUNNY? ARE YOU" So bugs decides to debunk that first one the logical way: WITH HIS TIME MACHINE. Yes this special features bugs bunny with a time machine and isn't about him clowning on genghis kahn or stopping weed from existing all together like it should be. He did buy it from acme though.

So he reveals via the power of time micheal blazed it for the first time two years ago, when his friends who apparently have not aged in two years while Micheal apparently had a growth spurt and his voice drop in two years.. which i'd joke about but is somehow something they actually got right. And I feel it not being his decision.. was a mistep. I know , in the same speial that decides a gathering of some of the greatest cartoons ever should be to stop one weenie from getting into crack, quite the shock. But while peer pressure is a big part of this special and something that is genuinely dangerous, points to them there… they treat it like you ONLY get into drugs if it's peer pressure. It happens sure, but i've had friends who smoke and I never did, and my desire to take weed is because it'd help with my anxiety, not because people told me to SMOKE UP PUSSY. It's why not doing something like say cocaine where it's a genuine danger, addictive and makes more sense for the guy to not take casually. I know I know this is a fat lot of

But it's still worth pointing out where the special could've been really cleve rwhile still being a preachy mess.

Anyways rather than.. continue this himself bugs just.. drops micheal off and he goes to see hsi friends again with the only girl int he group suggesting she can get them all crack for 10 dollars. I'm guarnateeing she just gets some detirgent in a plastic bag that says DEFINTELY CRACK FOR REAL on it. Michela is one again hesitant so she just.. straight up robs him, and he chases after her. For some reason THIS Is when Michealngelo decides to intervene and captures him in a sewer. Like bud.. he was trying to get his money back to NOT spend on cocaine, and stopping him means it's already as going to a tuesday night coke party. Not only that it really undercuts your message when the person kidnapping a teenager to try and help him get clean eats chilli pepper whipped cream and sardine pizzas with hot fudge on top. Like either Mikey is baked out of his mind most of the time, or is donig this shit sober and neither speaks well.

Mikey apparently saw this coming though and thus calls in the muppet babies for an assit. Yes this could be another monthly muppet madness but I choose not to count it as such as there's so much I love involved here. I mean Garfield gets threatned bodily harm to help, Michealngelo is baked out of his gourd teling another teen not to and now 2 year old versions of kermit, piggy and gonzo are taking a teenager though his drug blown brain and .. somehow thorugh him skateboaring while he's inside his brain?

My point is it was hard to just let the muppets have this. Also why the fuck are toddlers teaching this teenager about how much weed h'es smoked. Has animal been doing drugs that long.. actually yeah that explains everything about animal. But if you can't get a baby to stop snorting cocaine you can't expect a teeanger to work.

he soon runs into Huey Dewey and Louie, presumibly because Mickey would invite roger rabit style equilvent screentime nightmares and Scrooge being a businessman in the late 80's early 90's would be the last person tellnig you not to do cocaine. I don't know what a hive mind of triplets is going to do exactly but then i'm asking for the barest minimum of reason from a special that then thinks what will talk torubled youths off the ganja is a rousing musical number starring huey dewey and louie. Garfield, maybe, lorenzo music can sing as Garfield incredibly well, but for some reason they factored everyone in. Plus he actually makes sense as while he does eat a lot and is near constantly asleep, Garfield is also too lazy to actually go out and buy some weed. So Micheal wakes up … for some reason thinking this was all a nightmare.

Only for Corey to come in to talk to him, worried about him. She tells him Pooh Bear is also worried he's on the stuff and he tells her "You can tell Pooh Bear to mind his own buisness)

He nearly breaks her arm.. well okay he grabs her arm agressively but the special and wikipedia would like you to think he did and she runs out crying, with Micheal seemingly finally off the stuff.. btu Alf dosen't think he's learned enough so he yanks Micheal into a hellish mirror dimension. He shows him a corpse like version of himself and when Micheal insists he can stop whenever he wants he's in charge, alf shows him SMOKE is actually in charge. That.. actually works honestly, a nice way of showing drug addicts aren't in charge of themselves afte ra point.

Corey goes to try and talk to micheal and finds the drugs, with smoke trying to tempt her and just shoving pooh bear away. Yet this dosen't stop say.. SLIMER or any of the dozen other cartoon all stars from coming to the rescue. Like.. the only ones trying to traumtize micheal right now are alf, huey, dewey and louie, and daffy, who are putting him through a hell carnival that makes sure I won't be able to sleep. no really I.. can't really describe what the fuck happened, it just.. did. Micheal however comes to his senses in time, with the help of psychic daffy, to save his sister, swears off drugs, and tells smoke to go the hell awya. Micheal goes to tell his parents he's got the reefer madness and the special ends

Cartoon All Stars to the Rescue fails at everything it tried to do. It has one or two good moments but is preachy and it's "just say no message".. dosen't work. As the special ITSELF shows, peer pressure is a lot harder to shake than just going NOPE NOPE WON'T DO IT NOPE. It's a specail designed more to try and wash parents hands of blame and convince kids who already wren't going to do drugs.

That said.. it is GENUINELY hilarious. The heavy handendess, genuine effort from the voice actors involved, and hilarously weird stuff like Micheal's friend stealing his wallet or bugs having a time machine, makes this a comic masterpiece. Will it convince you not to smoke weed? No nor should you stop if your of age and responsible with it. Will it make you laugh really hard and is it great riffing materail? Yes. So just say yes to watching this and smoking a bigass bowl of weed with me and KG and thanks for reading.

[moviereviews101web]

The Madame Blanc Mysteries Season 3 - Review

The Madame Blanc Mysteries Season 3 – Review Director: Dermot Boyd Writer: Sally Lindsay, Sue Vincent (Screenplay) Writer: Sally Lindsay, Sue Vincent (Creators) Cast Sally Lindsay (Pond Life) Sue Vincent (Waterloo Road) Steve Edge (Bank of Dave) Alex Gaumond (Hampstead) Plot: Antiques expert moves to France suspicious of how her husband died and uses her skills to become a PI aiding the…

[justthegreat1]

Get In Line: Cocaine Bear Review

Pictured above is the “Cocaine Bear” poster.

Image Credit: Universal Pictures

So, usually I cover movies that are straight horror, but I decided to do something different and discuss this movie. This movie has an insane premise with an interesting story that inspired the movie. Usually, horror comedies are hit and miss for me, but I decided to give it a watch. Let’s get straight to the spoiler free review and hope no cocaine addicted bears are around.

Cocaine Bear is a 2023 horror comedy thriller directed by Elizabeth Banks who also produced this movie, Produced by Max Handelman, Aditya Sood, Brian Duffield, Phil Lord, and Chris Miller. Cocaine Bear is written by Jimmy Warden, and the soundtrack is done by Mark Mothersbaugh. The cast involves Keri Russell as Sari, Alden Ehrenreich as Eddie, O’Shea Jackson Jr. as Daveed, Ray Liotta as Syd, Isiah Whitlock Jr. as Bob, Brooklynn Prince as Dee Dee, Christian Convery as Henry, Margo Martindale as Ranger Liz, Jesse Tyler Ferguson as Peter, Kristofer Hivju as Olaf, Hannah Hoekstra as Elsa, Ayoola Smart as Officer Reba, Aaron Holliday as Kid (Stache), J.B. Moore as Vest, Leo Hanna as Ponytail, Kahyun Kim as Beth, Scott Seiss as Tom, Matthew Rhys as Andrew Thornton, and Allan Henry as “Bear Performer”.

The Plot:

An oddball group of cops, criminals, tourists, and teens converge on a Georgia forest where a huge black bear goes on a murderous rampage after unintentionally ingesting cocaine.

Positives:

One positive I have about “Cocaine Bear” is that it knows what it is, and what I mean by that is that it’s a movie about a bear on cocaine, that alone sounds crazy, but they have fun with that premise. The real black bear died on December 23rd,1985 after eating a large amount of cocaine from the containers, the total amount of cocaine that was eaten was 75 pounds which was worth $20 million ($55.6 million, adjusted for inflation).

Pictured above is the ambulance scene from “Cocaine Bear” (2023)

Image Credit: Universal Pictures

The second positive I have about this movie was the dark humor throughout, the reason I loved the dark humor throughout as some of the death scenes are so unexpected and over the top that you can’t just help but laugh. The dialogue was creative and some characters’ reactions to certain situations had me laughing.

The final positive I have about this movie was the cast as they understood the assignment, the acting reminds me of an 80’s b-horror movie. Keri Russell nailed her performance as Sari, and I must give props to the child actors (Brooklynn Prince and Christian Convery.) But this does have some drawbacks which we’ll get to.

Pictured above is the door scene from “Cocaine Bear.”

Image Credit: Universal Pictures

Negatives:

One negative I have is the lack of character development. I know it’s not supposed to be taken seriously, but I would’ve enjoyed seeing how each character’s story progresses since they are all intertwined. Another negative I have is that I felt that the movie wasn’t scary enough, I know the real bear died via overdose, but can you imagine how terrifying would it be to have a 500-pound black bear high on cocaine chasing you. I honestly wish they could have played up on the fear factor.

My Overall thoughts:

While this movie has some negatives, don’t let them affect your viewing experience as it’s one of the movies where you turn your mind off and eat some popcorn. If you enjoy campy, gory, and darkly comedic horror movies, this one is for you. But I’m glad that studios are letting directors make the movies they want even if they are based on…as I said before insane backstories. This movie is amazing in its own way with its over the top violence, comedic timing, and action throughout which only increases its re-watchability.

Pictured above is Cokey the bear getting high on cocaine. “Cocaine Bear” (2023)

Image Credit: Universal Pictures

Where to watch “Cocaine Bear” (2023)?

Peacock

Blu-Ray and DVD

Digital Retailers.

[gacmediadaily]

Movieguide ®, the number one family review service for movies and television shows, has officially announced the nominees for its 31st Annual MOVIEGUIDE® Faith & Values Awards Gala & Report to the Entertainment Industry. Hosted by Great American Family stars Trevor Donovan and Danica McKellar, the Awards Gala will take place on Friday, February 9th at the iconic Avalon Theatre in Hollywood and will broadcast on Great American Family later this spring.   

“Last year we saw a lot of strong and inspiring films and TV on the big screen and in the comfort of your living room, and we are excited to celebrate various bodies of work and talent,” says Robby Baehr, Movieguide® CEO. “To then be able to have the Awards Show broadcast on Great American Family is icing on the cake. We all share aligned visions to inspire and bring home to viewers, so this partnership is a perfect synergy.”

The event will honor the Best 2023 Movies for Mature Audiences, the Epiphany Prizes for the Most Inspiring Movie and Television Program, The Faith & Freedom Awards for Movies and Television, and the Grace Awards for Most Inspiring Performance in Movies and Television.

“The Movieguide Awards focuses on honoring quality family-friendly entertainment that deliver strong and inspiring faith-filled stories of faith, hope, joy, and redemptive love,” added Movieguide founder and publisher Dr. Ted Baehr. “We are excited to celebrate another year of honoring entertainment with faith and values.”

Here is the list of nominees for the 31st Annual Movieguide® Awards, in alphabetical order:

EPIPHANY PRIZE® MOVIES

AFTER DEATH

BIG GEORGE FOREMAN

JESUS REVOLUTION

JOURNEY TO BETHLEHEM

ON A WING AND A PRAYER

EPIPHANY PRIZE® TELEVISION

A CHRISTMAS BLESSING

DIVINE INFLUENCER

MURF THE SURF: JEWELS, JESUS AND MAYHEM IN THE USA: Episodes 1.1-1.4

A PARIS CHRISTMAS WALTZ

A THOUSAND TOMORROWS: Episode 1.3

BEST MOVIES FOR FAMILIES

JOURNEY TO BETHLEHEM

SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE

SUPER MARIO BROS. THE MOVIE

TROLLS BAND TOGETHER

WONKA

BEST TELEVISION EPISODE FOR FAMILIES

A CHRISTMAS BLESSING

DIVINE INFLUENCER

A MILLION MILES AWAY

A PARIS CHRISTMAS WALTZ

A THOUSAND TOMORROWS: Episode 1.3

BEST MOVIE FOR MATURE AUDIENCES

BOYS IN THE BOAT

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 3

GODZILLA MINUS ONE

JESUS REVOLUTION

SOUND OF FREEDOM

BEST TELEVISION EPISODE FOR MATURE AUDIENCES

ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE

THE BURIAL

CHICAGO P.D.: “New Life”

MURF THE SURF: JEWELS, JESUS AND MAYHEM IN THE USA

REACHER: Episode 2.5: “Burial”

FAITH & FREEDOM AWARD® FOR MOVIES

BANK OF DAVE

GOLDA (2023)

GUY RITCHIE’S THE COVENANT

INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY

SOUND OF FREEDOM

FAITH & FREEDOM AWARD® FOR TELEVISION

ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE

THE MANDALORIAN: Episode 302: “The Mines of Mandalore”

A MILLION MILES AWAY

MURF THE SURF: JEWELS, JESUS AND MAYHEM IN THE USA

TETRIS

GRACE PRIZE® FOR MOVIE PERFORMANCE

BIG GEORGE FOREMAN

Khris Davis

Forest Whitaker

JESUS REVOLUTION

Kelsey Grammer

Joel Courtney

Anna Grace Barlow

JOURNEY TO BETHLEHEM

Fiona Palomo

Joel Smallbone

ON A WING AND A PRAYER

Dennis Quaid

GRACE PRIZE® FOR TELEVISION PERFORMANCE

A THOUSAND TOMORROWS:  Episode 1.1-1.3

Rose Reid

 DIVINE INFLUENCER

 Jason Burkey

A CHRISTMAS BLESSING

Lori Loughlin

Jesse Hutch

Movieguide is the number one family review service for movies and television shows. With over 89 million monthly users, Movieguide is used by 1 in every 3 parents to determine which movies their family or children will watch. Additionally, Movieguide consults with major studios on what types of films will appeal to family audiences. Family films produce the biggest box office draws and the family film audience is the largest single demographic of movie-goers and television viewers.

[rachelkaser]

Masonry Monday: The Case of the Rolling Bones

When an elderly man is committed by his avaricious nephew, Perry Mason gets a writ of habeas corpus to free him. Shortly after, he's charged with murdering his longtime partner, and Mason must contend with a crooked private eye, his client's old flame, and a decades-old murder case.

Who's Who

Perry Mason's client: Daniel Reed, an aging millionaire who's sudden largesse is not as random as it seems

The victim: Maury Lewis, an old acquaintance of Reed's, who knows something damaging about his past

Suspects: Willard Scott, Reed's nephew, who gets him committed for spending his own money Arlene Scott, Willard's wife, who is the real mastermind behind his sanitarium scheme Millie Foster, Reed's fiancée, who tips off Perry Mason that something's off about Reed's commitment Donna Knox, Lewis's girlfriend and partner in crime, who helps him blackmail Reed Dave Kemp, a private eye who works with Lewis until he's double-crossed and seeks revenge

The Setup

A young woman at a bank hands the teller a check. The teller hands the check to the manager, who calls Willard Scott's home. According to the bank manager, the woman has a check for $20,000 signed by Daniel Reed, Willard's uncle. Willard's domineering wife, Arlene, tries to convince the bank manager not to cash the check, but Reed himself enters, okays the transaction and criticizes the manager for even calling Willard. The woman gets the money in cash.

Case under review, please refresh...

[cyarskj1899]

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OPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worth

OPINION2 WEEKS AGO

OPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worth

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‘Cause karma is my boyfriend

Karma is a god

Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend

Karma’s a relaxing thought

But for you, it’s not sweet like honey

Karma is a cat purring in my lap ’cause it loves me

Flexing like a goddamn acrobat

Me and karma vibe like that

–Taylor Swift, who’s had her share of beefs with Kanye West, “Karma”

Sponsored Links

Started: “I can say anti-Semitic s—- and Adidas cannot drop me,” said Ye (his legal name now) on the Drink Champs podcast earlier this month. Ye had worked with Adidas since 2013 on his Yeezy line of super expensive, super popular sneakers, and thought he was untouchable like most overpaid, over-indulged “artists.”

OW-Advertisement

Going, as of Tuesday:

“Immediately” in adidas-speak translates to “a couple of weeks of silence after we originally said we’d review our relationship with Kanye because we had a whole lot of money numbers to crunch.” Karma comes in various guises, and she often travels with her equally stealthy pal, schadenfreude. What you put out there WILL come back to you, even if it does take adidas a full nineteen days to make it happen.

Adidas didn’t drop Kanye West to stand against anti-semitism.

They dropped him because their stock was falling hard and an analyst told them to in order to salvage their stock value they needed to drop him.

Nothing heroic about what they did.

— Tony Posnanski (@tonyposnanski) October 25, 2022

It’s been reported that adidas got an estimated 4% to 8% of its sales from Yeezy products, according to investment bank Cowen. For Ye, it was an even bigger deal, accounting for $1.5 billion of his net worth. But I mean, what’s a Jewish life worth to a sneaker company founded by anti-Semites?

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Wow hope this widely available information about the Nazi origins of @adidas doesn’t go viral and cause a massive international boycott in light of their recent silence in the face of violent antisemitism by their partner Kanye West. pic.twitter.com/LTPsKGHYzg

— Bess Kalb (@bessbell) October 24, 2022

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We’d been seeing accountability for Kanye’s hate speech from plenty of others before adidas finally made its announcement Tuesday morning. Gap, Balenciaga, and Vogue Magazine all announced they were cutting ties with Ye. And now Forbes joins them by dropping him from their Billionaires’ List.

Kanye West is no longer a billionaire after Adidas cut ties with him, Forbes reports.

His loss of Adidas has caused his net worth to plummet to $400 million and he is no longer on the Forbes billionaire list. pic.twitter.com/8SzyQqJVjC

— Pop Base (@PopBase) October 25, 2022

Sponsored Links

Hopefully, more artists and sportsball people will end their own relationships with adidas. They only did right by themselves, and the last time I checked, there are other companies that make sneakers and track pants. BYE, YE!

Tara Dublin is a woefully underappreciated and unrepresented writer currently shopping a super cool novel that has nothing to do with politics while also fighting fascism on the daily.

Follow her on Twitter @taradublinrocks.

Editor’s note: This is an opinion column that solely reflects the opinions of the author.

TARA DUBLIN

TARA DUBLIN IS A WOEFULLY UNREPRESENTED WRITER WHO THINKS MORE PEOPLE WOULD READ HER COOL ROCK & ROLL LOVE STORY INSPIRED BY DAVE GROHL THAN ANY GHOSTWRITTEN GOP CRAPBOOK, AGENTS & PUBLISHERS. FOLLOW TARA ON TWITTER @TARADUBLINROCKS

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SHAMEFUL SILENCE: Antisemitic action at Florida football game IGNORED by Gov. DeSantis

DINE ‘N DASH: Guess who Ivanka Trump just had a three-hour dinner with?

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Sent from my iPhone

[metalsongoftheday]

Friday, December 9: Alice in Chains, “Died”

R.I.P. Layne Staley (1967-2002)

Besides bookending “Get Born Again” on the Music Bank box set and contradicting that title with a knowing wink, “Died” was ostensibly intended to restart Alice in Chains by easing their way back to action, with Dave Jerden brought back to produce as a means of both reorienting the band towards their earlier material as well as simply being a stable force to keep everyone focused. Instead, the track was the last thing Layne Staley recorded with the band: there was no getting a handle on his addictions by 1998, and nobody- least of all Jerden- was equipped to rally and bring everyone together.  But somehow both “Get Born Again” and “Died” saw their way to completion, and the latter was arguably the last true Alice in Chains song- although the band eventually soldiered on with William DuVall, and those albums are perfectly fine in their own right and have every right to exist- Staley was such a unique presence that there was no mistaking his presence, or his absence for that matter. Jerry Cantrell’s guitar was grimy, Sean Kinney’s drumming both grooved and lurch, and Mike Inez’s throbbing bass anchored the mix.  And while Staley’s lyrics were fairly boilerplate by his standards, his voice cut through the muck even in his very compromised state.  In many respects, “Died” was really the only way this iteration of Alice in Chains could end- battered and more than a little discouraged, but resolutely themselves.

Interested in reading more about metal- reviews, rankings and deep dives that really chew on our favorite bands and music?  This tumblr recently launched a substack newsletter with all of that and then some- you can subscribe for FREE and receive new articles straight to your inbox.  We recently posted a VERY in-depth analysis of what might’ve happened if one of our icons got their way in the ‘80s and put out the double album they envisioned instead of the compromised single record that came out (https://metalsongoftheday.substack.com/p/what-if-twin-turbos-happened). Please take a look (and feel free to comment!) and if you enjoy the content please hit subscribe.  As always, thank you for reading!

[90363462]

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OPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worth

OPINION2 WEEKS AGO

OPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worth

Sponsored Links

Started: “I can say anti-Semitic s—- and Adidas cannot drop me,” said Ye (his legal name now) on the Drink Champs podcast earlier this month. Ye had worked with Adidas since 2013 on his Yeezy line of super expensive, super popular sneakers, and thought he was untouchable like most overpaid, over-indulged “artists.”

OW-Advertisement

Going, as of Tuesday:

“Immediately” in adidas-speak translates to “a couple of weeks of silence after we originally said we’d review our relationship with Kanye because we had a whole lot of money numbers to crunch.” Karma comes in various guises, and she often travels with her equally stealthy pal, schadenfreude. What you put out there WILL come back to you, even if it does take adidas a full nineteen days to make it happen.

It’s been reported that adidas got an estimated 4% to 8% of its sales from Yeezy products, according to investment bank Cowen. For Ye, it was an even bigger deal, accounting for $1.5 billion of his net worth. But I mean, what’s a Jewish life worth to a sneaker company founded by anti-Semites?

Sponsored Links

Sponsored Links

We’d been seeing accountability for Kanye’s hate speech from plenty of others before adidas finally made its announcement Tuesday morning. Gap, Balenciaga, and Vogue Magazine all announced they were cutting ties with Ye. And now Forbes joins them by dropping him from their Billionaires’ List.

Sponsored Links

Hopefully, more artists and sportsball people will end their own relationships with adidas. They only did right by themselves, and the last time I checked, there are other companies that make sneakers and track pants. BYE, YE!

Tara Dublin is a woefully underappreciated and unrepresented writer currently shopping a super cool novel that has nothing to do with politics while also fighting fascism on the daily.

Follow her on Twitter @taradublinrocks.

Editor’s note: This is an opinion column that solely reflects the opinions of the author.

TARA DUBLIN

TARA DUBLIN IS A WOEFULLY UNREPRESENTED WRITER WHO THINKS MORE PEOPLE WOULD READ HER COOL ROCK & ROLL LOVE STORY INSPIRED BY DAVE GROHL THAN ANY GHOSTWRITTEN GOP CRAPBOOK, AGENTS & PUBLISHERS. FOLLOW TARA ON TWITTER @TARADUBLINROCKS

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CRAZY FUENTES: This right-wing racist says the cure for American inclusiveness is a dictatorship

FRANK INCENSED: Evangelical Republican nut bag rewrites Holocaust history

PARLER SWEEP: Warrants issued for proof of Proud Boys plot to overthrow the government

SHAMEFUL SILENCE: Antisemitic action at Florida football game IGNORED by Gov. DeSantis

DINE ‘N DASH: Guess who Ivanka Trump just had a three-hour dinner with?

OPINION: Kanye West’s antisemitic rants are hurting America right now

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OPINIONOPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worthOctober 25, 2022

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LAST UPDATE: 25 October, 2022

3' 

NEWS ANALYSIS

TRUMP HOPELESS: House Select Committee interviews Hope Hicks

TARA DUBLINOCTOBER 25, 2022

Former Ralph Lauren model Hope Hicks, who served as Donald Trump’s communications director, was meeting with the January 6th House Select Committee, CNN reported Tuesday morning. NBC also confirmed the meeting, although the panel hasn’t yet released a statement regarding her cooperation.

Hicks, who was one of Trump’s closest confidantes in his White House, previously refused to answer questions about working for Trump when she testified before lawmakers behind closed doors in 2019.

New: Hope Hicks, a former top Trump White House aide, is scheduled to sit for a transcribed interview with the House Jan. 6 committee today, per person familiar — Luke Broadwater☀️ (@lukebroadwater) October 25, 2022

Hicks, a personal favorite of Trump’s, served in multiple senior roles in Trump’s White House for most of his lone term but left the White House six days after the January 6th insurrection. She had previously served as White House communications director as well as director of strategic communications. Prior to her roles at the White House, Hicks worked for Trump’s presidential campaign, the Trump Organization, and Ivanka Trump’s fashion brand.

Trump blamed the military and law enforcement for giving Hope Hicks covid pic.twitter.com/LxPkRZskQA — MeidasTouch (@MeidasTouch) October 2, 2020

Throughout its investigation, the January 6th Committee conducted interviews with numerous key Trump officials and cronies such as former Attorney General Bill Barr, former Chief of Staff aide Cassidy Hutchinson, and Virginia “Ginni” Thomas, wife of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas. The Justice Department, which is in the middle of its own January 6th investigation, has also sought the cooperation of Trump aide Kash Patel and Trump’s former “Diet Coke” valet, Walt Nauta.

If you missed it, I wrote a short Thread about Walt Nauta the Diet Coke Man of Trump and Kash Patel. What is this 'news' about them being squeezed? That story is obvious SPIN. Do not fall for spin. We have seen this movie too many times… https://t.co/eRldHaxnTe — Tomi T Ahonen Standing With Ukraine (@tomiahonen) October 25, 2022

Trump and his legal team have yet to announce whether he will cooperate with the January 6th Committee’s subpoena, with the Dhillon Law Group set to mediate his interactions with the committee. Meanwhile, the panel has cited precedents to argue it has the authority to subpoena Trump, and Vice Chair Rep. Liz Cheney (R-WY) has already said the Committee is prepared if Trump refuses to comply.

.@CheriJacobus .@glennkirschner2.@B52Malmet .@JudyPete.@BadBradRSR .@jennycohn1 When asked if she thought Trump would honor the 1/6 Committee subpoena, Nancy Pelosi's response, 'He's not man enough." pic.twitter.com/5FXMY4zn8x — ChattJazz 🇺🇦 ☮️ 🌻 (@ChattJazz) October 24, 2022

Other witnesses such as Steve Bannon and Peter Navarro who have defied committee subpoena demands have faced contempt of Congress charges.

#HopeHicks “shaking hands” with Chester the Molester. #TawdryTraitorspic.twitter.com/CfPVO7RbOR — Dave • 🇺🇸🇺🇦🇵🇱🇩🇪🇬🇧Veterans for Joe (@dave911rsr) October 25, 2022

[This is a developing story, please check back for updates on Hope Hicks and her testimony in the days ahead]

Follow Tara Dublin on Twitter @taradublinrocks.

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LAST UPDATE: 25 October, 2022

[reitmonero]

The Most User-Friendly Budgeting Apps: Intuitive Interfaces Reviewed

Budgeting shouldn’t be a chore; it should empower you to take control of your finances. Fortunately, many budgeting apps feature user-friendly interfaces designed to make the budgeting process straightforward and engaging. Here’s a look at some of the most intuitive budgeting apps available today.

1. GoodBudget GoodBudget utilizes a digital envelope system, making it easy to allocate funds for various spending categories. The app’s simple interface allows users to drag and drop funds between envelopes, creating a visual representation of their budgeting. This hands-on approach resonates particularly well with users who prefer a tactile method of managing their finances.

2. EveryDollar EveryDollar, created by financial guru Dave Ramsey, focuses on zero-based budgeting, ensuring that every dollar is accounted for. Its clean, easy-to-navigate interface makes budgeting accessible for everyone. Users can quickly create and adjust budgets, and the app also offers the option for a paid version that integrates with bank accounts for easier tracking.

3. Wally Wally stands out for its clean design and powerful tracking features. It allows users to scan receipts and log expenses effortlessly, making it easy to keep track of spending. The app’s dashboard provides a clear overview of your finances, helping users understand their spending habits without feeling overwhelmed.

Why User-Friendliness Matters A user-friendly budgeting app enhances engagement and encourages users to stick with their budgeting goals. When an app is easy to navigate, users are more likely to input their expenses regularly and review their budgets frequently. This consistent interaction is vital for developing healthy financial habits.

[greensparty]

Concert Review: Janes's Addiction

Friday 9/13/24 @ Leader Bank Pavilion (Boston, MA)

Remember that old joke "Besides that Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?", well that's kind of how I feel writing this review. I set out to cover a concert and write a review and then the show ended abruptly and made national news, before I even had a chance to begin processing my thoughts!?! So I'm going to begin this review as I would a normal concert review with everything up until that ending that everyone is talking about.

Navarro, Farrell, Perkins and Avery onstage

In August 1991, I attended the MA stop of the very first Lollapalooza Festival, headlined by Jane's Addiction and created by singer Perry Farrell. I had been hearing some of JA's stuff and really dug what I heard, so prior to the festival, I picked up their 1990 album Ritual de lo Habitual. It was unlike anything at that time, a combination of hard rock, psychedelia, funk, art rock, and even raga sounds. That performance at Lollapalooza was epic, they did a ton of songs from Ritual and their 1988 studio debut Nothing's Shocking. Just as the band was breaking through to the mainstream and Lollapalooza was a success, JA broke up. Side note: about a month after Lollapalooza '91, I began high school. In english class we had to do an assignment about famous people who have the same name as us. I mentioned Eric Clapton, Eric Stoltz and JA bassist Eric Avery. My classmate Scott was the only one to respond to Eric Avery. From then on he and I bonded over bands we both liked like JA and Red Hot Chili Peppers and I'm happy to say we have remained good friends since then. Scott has brought his photography skills to a number of film projects I've done over the years and I've helped him out on some of his as well. When the opportunity came for me to cover this JA concert, I was thrilled to get Scott a photo pass, where he could photograph the first few songs. Truly a full circle moment for both of us to see JA together after all these years!

Navarro

We arrived mid-way through Love and Rockets' set, but enough for me to see them do all the hits like their cover of The Temptations' "Ball of Confusion", "No New Tale to Tell" and of course their biggest hit "So Alive". I am no expert, but I was impressed. After seeing them and The Church a few months ago, I'm starting to wish I could time travel to be a college radio DJ in the 1980s!

Navarro and Avery

Back the headliners: After JA ended in 1991, they reunited briefly in 1997 and again in 2003 in a number of different lineups. But this classic lineup of Farrell, guitarist Dave Navarro, Avery, and drummer Stephen Perkins has not toured since they were all together circa 2008-2010. In 1997, I did see Farrell and Perkins' post-JA band Porno for Pyros at the WBCN River Rave and with the exception of "Pets" it wasn't particularly memorable. There is just a magic of the JA lineup, four distinct personalities who come together and are bigger than the sum of their parts. Navarro just re-joined this year after long COVID sidelined him for the last few tours. Prior to this show there had been some music press complaining about some of the recent concerts, but I went in hopeful. This show also happened to be Perkins' birthday and Love and Rockets made a birthday dedication to him.

Avery

The show kicked off with "Kettle Whistle", a song that goes back to their 80s live shows and was recorded for the 1997 compilation of the same name. Then they went into some deep cuts like "Whores" and "Pigs in Zen". Farrell mumbled something about how the one thing we can all agree on is that it's "football season mother***ers". Farrell is truly a great singer, but at this show, he seemed quite off (wrong lyrics, coming in at the wrong time in songs, etc). Musically the band was tight. Navarro especially is one of the great guitarists to emerge from the 90s Alternative Nation and he seemed to be on fire during certain songs. The highlights of the show for me were "Summertime Rolls", "Jane Says" and "Three Days". There had been some tension within the band between Farrell and Navarro during a few songs, but it seemed like the show was going on.

Farrell

And then as they were doing "Ocean Size" things fell apart. Literally! During the song, I looked away for a nano-second and Scott said "Dude, are you watching this?!", I looked up and Farrell apparently went up to Navarro in the middle of the song and shoulder-bumped Navarro and then he actually took a swing at him as the band and crew had to restrain him and Navarro, while holding a guitar, looked like a deer in headlights as they removed Farrell from the stage. Navarro, Avery and Perkins waved goodnight and then the lights came on. At other shows on this tour there were a good three or four more songs. We did not get "Stop", "Been Caught Stealing" (possibly their biggest hit) or my all-time favorite JA song "Classic Girl".

Navarro

As we walked from the venue to the car, Scott and I pondered if we had actually witnessed the last JA show ever. By the time I got home, social media had already blown up about this concert. A pic I had posted on my FB of Scott and I garnered tons of comments asking what happened. By the next morning national and international press was now reporting this incident. Fans were dissecting the fan-made videos like it was the Zapruder film. Farrell's wife took to social media to explain that he had lost it due to tinnitus and a sore throat and that the loudness of the music caused him to not hear be able to hear the music properly and that he went from anger to sadness for what had happened. She singled out Avery, who tried to hold him back, for getting in some cheap shots at Farrell. Then JA issued a statement apologizing for what had happened and that they would be canceling the next show in CT. Earlier today, the band announced the cancellation of the remaining tour dates. All of this before I even had a chance to write a review!?!

Avery

My hot take: If this was, as Scott and I wondered the final JA show before they break up again, that's sad because they are ending on a sad rock cliche of inter-band tension. It wasn't a deranged fan or someone in another band that attempted to hurt Navarro, it was a bandmate!?! I get it - it takes a lot to be in a band especially one with larger-than-life personalities. But when they ended in 1991, they went out at the top of their game with the end of the Lollapalooza tour that was now a success. Violence is wrong but to go after Navarro (who just overcame some health issues of his own) onstage during a concert due to sound issues that had nothing to do with him is wrong. That's something I expect of a hack unprofessional not a singer that has been doing this for almost 40 years. You have issues with the sound or how the songs are being played deal with the band and the crew during soundcheck. This is also sad because we're talking about a band that have made two of the greatest albums of all time (don't just take my word for it, both Nothing's Shocking and Ritual de lo Habitual are in Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list) and there was an opportunity to put on a great show filled with classics and deep cuts. Musically the band sounded good, but Farrell (whether it was tinnitus or him getting in his own way) was way off. I'm glad that I got to see this band in 1991. I'm glad I got to cover this as a member of the press because if I had paid I would've been disappointed.

Farrell

But in the end, it was exciting to have my friend Scott, who I talked JA with in high school, and 33 years later we got to see that lineup together...even if we wished it had gone differently.

Photos by Scott Patrick Wiener

For info on Jane's Addiction