Forward & Backward

Glad to see some folks have their priorities straight. Headline from nypost.com: “Lap dance-starved men pack Sapphire after NYC lifts COVID restrictions.”

Now that Juneteenth has been made a holiday, expect black males to be imbued with such exalted self esteem that they will stop killing each other at an alarming clip.

As big a movie fan as I am, I’ve missed some through the years. I have no idea why I’d never seen Bandolero! (1968), given the great cast and my fascination with Raquel Welch. It aired last night in prime time on GRIT, channel 31–2 on ota in NYC. Welch uses a Mexican accent. Her dad was Bolivian, her last name Tejada before her first marriage. Maybe I’d passed on the film simply because I was insanely jealous of those around her. As for the flick, it’s so-so. It may have been better if it’d gone completely hardcore. It softens Dean Martin’s character, which gives it a tweener, unconvincing feel. He plays a bank robber nabbed in the act along with his violent gang. James Stewart plays his brother, posing as the hangman, allowing the criminals to escape. They soon kidnap Raquel’s character and are hunted by a posse headed by George Kennedy’s character. The rest of the cast is a movie buff’s dream: Andrew Prine, Denver Pyle, Harry Carey Jr., Donald Red Barry, Dub Taylor, Clint Ritchie (474 episodes of One Life to Live) and Will Geer, who steals the show as an unrepentant criminal. Bandolero! was directed by Andrew V. McLaglen, who had a long career on the big and small screen but never helmed a work that soared. I was surprised by who doesn’t survive the final shootout. It’s fun but a middle of the road western strictly for fans of the genre and the players. Here’s one of the world’s all-time great movie stars taking out her would-be rapist:

People are fighting back. Last week there was news that Baltimore small business owners frustrated by rising crime rates were threatening to withhold taxes. Now this headline from foxnews.com: “Atlanta suburb files ‘divorce papers’ to separate from city, will form its own police force.” Murders are up 63% from 2020.

I haven’t sold a copy of one of my own books in about a month. Meanwhile, someone has paid a half mil for one of Hunter Biden’s artworks. Imagine how artists who have struggled for years must feel. He doesn’t have to disclose the buyer.

It was a second straight picture perfect day weather wise, and the floating book shop experienced a bookend effect — business early and late. My thanks to The Quiet Man, who bought two more satchels of DVD copies; and to Ira, who purchased pictorials on MOMA and U.S. presidents; and to Meryl, who selected a collection of the work of world renowned Argentinian poet Jorge Luis Borges; and to the woman who chose All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, and Dark Places by Gillian Flynn; and to the one who took home Hanukkah at Valley Forge by Stephen Krensky and Greg Harlin; and to the two who combined to buy four hardcovers in Russian; and to the one who opted for a Spanish primer; and to Revilo, who bought a Spanish-English dictionary. I finally thought to ask about the origin of his name. It’s Oliver backwards. He doesn’t like the authoritative sound of his given name. These high IQ guys…

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