The producers of this BLOG would like to state that any similarities between characters herein and any persons living or dead is purely coincidental and in no way reflects the policies of the BLOG makers.  The opinions and ideas of the author are purely phantasmagorical and are not to be taken as any kind of reality.

Also...
The following BLOG contains BLUE material of a provocative nature.  Rated a hard (very hard) R.  READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED (AND ENCOURAGED).

FADE IN:
EXT. SAN FRANCISCO STREET -DAY
A cable car passes by on the street with a crisp DING DING!  The camera pans a 180 degree sweep and we're looking  at the front window of CABLE CAR CLOTHIERS; a posh, old-world men's haberdashery.  CHRISTOPHER "CHRISSY" REIDY, LATE 50'S, jauntily enters the frame.  He takes a moment to look at the facade, smiles brightly, straightens his collar and goes through the door.
CUT TO:
INT. CABLE CAR CLOTHIERS -DAY
Chris walks across the selling floor, looking hither and yon at all the beautiful furnishings:

He's approached by an older man in a jaunty hat.  This is MR. ZENDRAZIK, 90'S.
MR. ZENDRAZIK
Hello there young man, how can I help you today?
CHRIS
(LAUGHS) Young?  Let's just say young at heart!
MR. ZENDRAZIK
This is funny?  How old are you?
CHRIS
I'll be sixty in December.
MR. ZENDRAZIK
I'll be ninety-five in October; so, to me, you're a young man.  It's all in your head anyways.  Now what are you looking for today.
CHRIS
Actually, I'm looking for a Baracuta jacket.  It's a windbreaker.  It's a--
MR. ZENDRAZIK
You want the G9...
CHRIS
Yes.  That's it.  It's also called the--
MR. ZENDRAZIK
Harrington.  We have the best selection in America.  Follow me.
CUT TO:
INT. DRESSING ROOM -DAY
Chris is standing in front of a three-way mirror as Mr. Zendrazik slips a beige golf jacket on him.
MR. ZENDRAZIK
This is what they call "natural"; I call it oyster; but whatever.  Size 42--the last one.
CHRIS
Oh, yeah, this is it!
MR. ZENDRAZIK
Do you want me to wrap it up or do you want to wear it out?
Chris is looking at the price-tag.  He GULPS.
CHRIS
Oh, ah...so it's four-hundred-ninety-eight?
MR. ZENDRAZIK
I know: sticker shock.  But you get what you pay for.  You'll have it forever; that is, if you live as long as me.
CHRIS
Ahhhh--
The curtain to the dressing room SWOOSHES open and a man in a white racing suit with the GULF oil logo emblazoned on it steps into the room.  It is STEVE MCQUEEN, famous movie star, 40's.  He puts his helmet on a chair.
MR. ZENDRAZIK
Oh!  Mr. McQueen!  So nice to see you!
Chris is now an afterthought.
STEVE MCQUEEN
Hey Mr. Z.  I'm not interrupting am I?

Mr. Z. glances at Chris who is just realizing who has entered the room.  He puts his dropped jaw back in place as Steve begins to unzip his jumpsuit.
STEVE
Oh, I'm sure this fellah won't mind if we share--
Before Chris can answer, Steve is stripped down to his skivvies and socks.  Chris GULPS again for a different reason.
CHRIS
Oh, ah, sure.  That's fine...
MR. Z.
Your pants are ready Mr. McQueen, I'll just be a minute.
Mr. Z. leaves the room.  Steve leans against the wall and scratches his stomach.  Chris stands there like an idiot.
STEVE
G9 huh?  Good taste.

CHRIS
It's also called the Harrington...
STEVE
Please.  Fuck Ryan O'Neal.  I put that jacket on the map.  Not him, the cocksucker.  Actually, I would like to fuck him.  I'm so horny right now.  It's that racing suit...
CHRIS
(At a loss) Oh, ah...gee...ahm...that is to say...well, you see...what I mean is...I guess you two didn't get along?
STEVE
We were always after the same trim.  Bastard dickflected me on more than one occasion.  (LAUGHS) Hah!  "Dickflected"!  I just made that up!
CHRIS
We call it cock-blocking where I'm--
STEVE
Speaking of cocks; look what's come up.
Steve is, as they say, sporting wood.
CHRIS
Gee whiz--
STEVE
Why don't you get on your knees and I'll christen that new jacket.
He puts his hands on Chris' shoulders and positions him with little protest.
FADE TO BLACK
FADE UP:
INT. CABLE CAR CLOTHIERS -DAY
Mr. Z. is finishing up writing an invoice as he taps a calculator.  Steve, now looking super-cashe-cool in a dapper weekend ensemble, is on the opposite side of the counter and Chris is absently looking at the outfit on a mannequin.
MR. Z.
And here we are Mr. McQueen...
He tears a tape off the calculator and hands it to Steve.  Steve looks at the total and nods.
STEVE
And let's throw the Baracuta on my tab for Mr....
Steve glances at Chris.
CHRIS
Oh, ah, Reidy.  Mr. Reidy.
STEVE
Yeah, what he said.
MR. Z.
Very good--
He taps in more numbers, hits print and rips off the tape and hands it to Steve.
STEVE
That's fine.  
MR. Z. 
I wouldn't feel right if I didn't point out that there's some kind of stain on the jacket...
STEVE
What?  
Mr. Z turns to the jacket which is hanging on a stand next to the register and points.
MR. Z.
I told Manny not to eat his yogurt on the floor! 
STEVE
Ah, that's nothing, right...Reidy?
CHRIS
I see nothing!  Nothing!
STEVE
(LAUGHS) Okay.  So, could you just pack everything up and send it to the Mark?
MR. Z.
Absolutely.
STEVE
And Mr. Reidy will just wear the jacket out.
MR. Z.
Excellent.
Mr. Z. takes the Baracuta off its hanger and comes around the counter and once again, slips it on Chris.  Steve hugs and kisses Mr. Z. on the cheek and he and Reidy are out the door.

CUT TO:
EXT. STREET -DUSK
Steve directs Chris over to a sleek, racing-green Jaguar XKSS and jumps into it without opening the door. Chris attempts the same on the other side and ends up on the pavement.  He stands and brushes off his new jacket, opens the door and gets in.  Steve GUNS the engine and peels out into the street.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. TAYLOR STREET -NIGHT
We see the Jaguar, airborne, leap across the SCREEN from one side to the other as the skyline moves in the opposite direction.
CUT TO:
INT. JAGUAR -NIGHT
In SLOW-MOTION, we see a tight two-shot of Chris and Steve's PROFILES.  Steve's head is thrown back as he GUFFAWS and Chris seems to be SCREAMING something.  Or maybe just SCREAMING.
INSERT SHOT: Chris' white knuckles as he grips the dashboard.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. TOP OF THE MARK -NIGHT
We hear a light jazz version of THIS GUY'S IN LOVE WITH YOU as we look at the city lights below.  The camera does a SLOW ZOOM-OUT and we find Chris and Steve at a widow-side table.  Steve is drinking a HEINEKEN from the bottle as Chris attempts to steady his hands and bring his cocktail to his lips.

Steve notices the smudges on Chris' jacket from where he fell.
STEVE
We're really breakin' that baby in!
Chris smiles wanly and drains his glass.  He gazes at a small stage where a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN is singing the Alpert song.

Steve finishes his beer and motions for the WAITRESS who approaches the table.  He smiles at her.
STEVE
He'll have another--what is that?
CHRIS
Limoncellotini.
STEVE
Yeah, that.  And I'll take another Heine...(suggestively)...or two. (The waitress ignores this) Did anyone ever tell you you look like Ali McGraw?
WAITRESS
(Flatly) I don't know who that is--
The waitress strides off.  Steve CHUCKLES.
CHRIS
Okay, if you're not gonna say it, I'll say it: "Doesn't she KNOW who you are!??!"
STEVE
Believe you me; there were a lot of broads who were immune to my charms.  But no.  She doesn't know who I am.
CHRIS
How could she not?  You're icon--
STEVE
Because I don't want her to.  It's a fringe benefit of the fringe I'm tuning in from.
CHRIS
I'm not even gonna ask.
Steve has been peeling the label off his beer bottle and rolling the paper into little balls.  He flicks one off the table.
CHRIS
Have you seen F1?
STEVE
No.  Why do you ask?
CHRIS
Oh, your beer put me in mind of it.
STEVE
How so?
CHRIS
'Cuz it's kind of a giant Heineken ad.
STEVE
I thought it was a racing picture.
CHRIS
It is.  But it's also a product-placement-palooza.
STEVE
I don't know what that is.
CHRIS
Well, you know how your racing suit from Le Mans had the big GULF patch on it? (Steve nods) Well, they paid to have that there--
STEVE
No they didn't.  I produced that picture.  That was there for the realism.  Nobody got paid.
CHRIS
Well, that game has certainly changed.
STEVE
Racing has always been covered with logos; it's part of it.
CHRIS
Yeah, well I'm pretty certain all the logos we see plastered all over F1 were all selected and paid for.  And there were a lot.  But there was so much Heineken branding it got ridiculous.
STEVE
How so?
CHRIS
To the point where it was the only beer anyone was drinking in the movie and the only beer at any of the numerous party scenes...to the point where the actors were holding the bottles in such a way as to make sure the labels were getting on camera.
STEVE
So Heineken paid for that?
CHRIS
Yeah.
STEVE
Why didn't I think of that?
The waitress returns with the drinks.
STEVE
Thanks sweetheart.
The waitress smiles and displays her smartphone.  There's a picture on the screen.
WAITRESS
Is this the lady you were talking about?

STEVE
Yeah, that's her!
WAITRESS
She's really pretty.
STEVE 
She's a star baby!
The waitress GIGGLES and leaves.
Steve winks at Chris and chugs his beer.  He bangs the bottle down and wipes his mouth.
STEVE
Where are you staying anyways?
CHRIS
With...friends...in San Rafael.
STEVE
It's getting late.  You're staying with me tonight.
He stands and strides towards the exit.
CHRIS
But...my bus...
CUT TO:
INT. -HOTEL SUITE -NIGHT
Chris and Steve, their heads propped up with pillows, are watching the TV. Love Story is in progress:

STEVE
Man, she was really robbed of that Oscar.
CHRIS 
Ryan too, I think--
STEVE
That schmuck?  He wasn't even nominated for a Golden Globe.
CHRIS
He was nominated for Best Actor for it.  Both, actually--
STEVE
Get outta town.
CHRIS
He was! Can I ask you a question?
STEVE
Sure...(he turns the TV VOLUME down with the remote).
CHRIS
What's with the car racing?
STEVE
Let me think about that for a second before I give you some bullshit answer.  I guess it's the power.  The power of knowing your life is in your own hands.
CHRIS
Isn't that true of anyone?
STEVE
Yeah.  But getting behind the wheel of a car and driving two-hundred miles per hour in something deemed official gives you an excuse.  It's kind of like playing Russian roulette without the gun.  The gun is too in your face, so to speak.
CHRIS
Can I ask you something else?
STEVE
You can ask me anything.  Buddy, I've done it all and I could give two shits less about anything.  It's why Hollywood hates me.
CHRIS
But you were one of the biggest Stars, like, ever.
STEVE
Yeah.  I had them by the balls.  And the twats.  What's your question?
CHRIS
Have you ever been ripped off?
STEVE
How do you mean?  Like mugged?  Rolled?  Scammed?
CHRIS
More like...your ideas...
STEVE
(LAUGHS)  Oh shit man!  They're still stealing my ideas!  That F1 is a remake of Le Mans for fucksakes. They're stealing me!  I'm one of the fucking highest paid dead celebrities in the world; which is pretty goddamned morbid if you ask me.  But I guess it's good for my family; I sure don't need it where I am now.

CHRIS
Actually, with the technology that exists now they could literally recreate you for a movie.
STEVE
What?  How?
CHRIS
They feed every scrap of filmed imagery of you into a computer program and the machine can extrapolate a performance.  Recreate you.
STEVE
Animation?
CHRIS
In a way; but it's more than that. It's hyperrealistic.  It's attempting to achieve reality. It's called deep-fake.
STEVE
Won't work without the voice.
CHRIS
They do the same thing with your voice and then put the two together; tell the machine what they want you to do and there you are--making movies again.
STEVE
But it's not me.
CHRIS
I know.  But no one seems to care.
STEVE
Well, no computer on earth could recreate this--
Steve throws back the blanket and grabs a handful of his freewheelin' manhood and gives it a playful shake.
CHRIS
Well, not yet anyway.
STEVE
Did you want to talk some more about movies; or do you want some deep-real?
CHRIS
Well, yes I do--I mean--I do want to talk--
He is interrupted by a KNOCK on the door.
STEVE
Hold that thought.
He stands and pulls on his pants and heads to the door.  OFF SCREEN we hear excited FEMALE VOICES and LAUGHTER.
Steve returns, escorting in the waitress and the singer who we saw in the hotel bar.  They are stunningly alluring.
STEVE
Brigitta, Lolana...I'd like you to meet...Reidy.
Steve goes to the bar and pops a bottle of Cristal as the two women start taking off their wraps.
BRIGITTA (WAITRESS) 
Hey there...
LOLANA (SINGER)
Nice to meet you.
CHRIS 
Yeah, ah, nice to meet you both as well.  Excuse me.
STEVE
(As he hands glasses of champagne to the women)  Where you going?
CHRIS
The, ah, bathroom!
CUT TO:
INT. HOTEL SUITE -NIGHT
CLOSE on the bathroom door as it opens and Chris pops his head out.  The lights are dim and he tip-toes into the room.  Steve is in bed, under the covers, with Lolana on one side and Brigitta on the other.  There is a lot of snuggling and GIGGLING going on. Chris sits in a chair in the corner.
STEVE
Lolana and Brigitta tell me they're very open-minded.  Would you like to join us?
CHRIS
Ahh, you know...say...Stevie; do you remember where I put my drawing pad?  Because while you three are doing that, I think I'm gonna do some drawing...
STEVE
You're gonna draw us?  Hot damn that's hot!  There's a pad of paper in my suitcase.
Chris goes to the suitcase, finds the pad and sits back down.  
From the bed we hear delighted SQUEALS and ECSTATIC MOANS and ENTHUSIASTIC LOVE CHUCKLES.  Chris clears his throat, finds a pencil in the desk and looks towards the bed:
MONTAGE: CHRIS' POV 
In a series of quick CUTS, we see the trio in the bed go through a rapid series of positions erotiques, CROSS-CUT with SHOTS of Chris's rapidly drawing hand and his sweaty brow, which he wipes. We also see a vast variety of EXPRESSIONS on Chris' face ranging from shock, to delight, to concern to perplexity and back again. All of this is done in the PABLO FERRO style and continues on a SLOW FADE TO BLACK.

I'll get back to the Christmas movie soon, as I'm working out plot-points in my head.  And rethinking narration.  In regards to the latter; I was talking about Nick Offerman and wondering if he sold his wood online--errr--his woodworking wares, that is!  And not only does he do that...he has an entire website with all the MERCH and all the feels.  Those FEELS really leaning into the whole Daddy-Bear-Woof-A-licious thing that is wholly summed up by Beef Tobin on The Great North.  Everybody seems to want a slice of Beef.  And Nick.  I know I wouldn't kick him out of bed for getting sawdust in the sheets!

Here's his woodworking logo on wood:

Methinks Nick is reaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllyyyyy leaning into it with a corncob in his logo.  A corncob still in its' natural wrapper(!).  If you didn't know about the, some might say, aphrodisiacal qualities of the corncob, I might direct you to, well, just look up "Triple X corncob."  Proceed with caution.  Do not say you weren't warned!  And hey, I didn't start this.  Beef Tobin did!
But seriously folks:
I took wood shop in seventh grade and I loved it!  I still have a couple of the things I made.  I'll post pix in an addendum.  Also, I've been wanting to explore woodworking more, as I do have a serious interest in it.  But I've got a lot of irons in the fire and I don't want to spread myself too thin.  And if Nick gave woodworking classes at his shop I would sign up!  If I still lived in SoCal, that is.  Anyways, speaking of spreading oneself thin: let's get back to books and the very svelte Mr. Yukio Mishima

You may recall in the last booksaloon I was talking about Jean Genet and Mishima.  My interest in Genet deepened when I discovered we shared the same birthday (as you know, I'm into "stuff" like that).  I read Genet's first novel Our Lady of the Flowers and it was pretty much what I was expecting.  Kind of a queer fever dream in a homoerotic prison.  Mishima, who was never officially "out"; I think, couldn't have been more gay.  I mean, come on: bodybuilding, literature and cats?  What else do you need?  And a healthy dose of autoeroticism (or autosexuality, which is a thing I just learned about).  There are tons of pictures of Mishima out there, in all manner of attitudes.  Someone should put them all in a book and call it: The Many Moods of Mishima.  I'd buy it!
So, I wanted to read something by Mishima and the only thing I could find in the Roanoke/Shenandoha Valley area was a short story in a collection called The World of the Short Story from 1986 put together by a gentleman named Clifton Fadiman.  What do we know about him?  Let's ask HAL:  Hal, who is Clifton Fadiman?

See, you really can learn something new every day!  Mr. Fadiman writes introductions to each story in the collection; and based on his unassailable snobbery; I assumed he was British.  Nope.  Brooklyn boy.  Also a TV personality.  Let's take a look:

God, remember when people actually had "class"?  And when you actually got 25(!) minutes of show out of a half-hour slot?  Good times.  And Mr. Fadiman?  Not what I was expecting.  We live in a really strange world.
In any event; the Mishima story in Fadiman's collection is entitled: "Three Million Yen."  Here is Fadiman's introduction to that story:

Kind of begs several questions, Mr. Fadiman.  If Mishima's story is so "unpleasant" and "shocking" why did you include it in your collection?  
Actually I think the story is more than pleasant; and again, not what I was expecting.  It's about a young married Japanese couple in the late 50's or thereabouts.  I imagined a couple like the following, only in more lightweight summer clothes of that era (which is what they are described as wearing, in the story):

The story is not really "shocking."  Maybe when it was first published; but I don't think in 1986 and certainly not now was it shocking.  Surprising, perhaps.  (Spoilers ahead)  The married couple in the story are apparently sex workers of some kind.  Nothing is spelled out.  The implication is that perhaps they get paid to have sex while someone watches?  It's never clear.  But that a married hetero couple in late 50's Japan would be doing this for a living (or side hustle) was a bit of a surprise for me, even in 2025.  The male in the story is clearly based on the author, who describes him(self) in great detail.  And when you realize that Mishima was probably a thinly closeted kinkster; it makes sense.  And we don't find out about these goings-on until the very end of the story.
The set-up is that this young couple, on a hot summer night, are killing time in a department store/mall in Tokyo before a meeting with a mysterious woman who is more than likely their "Madam."  They buy oversized cookies in the store that are in the shape of 1 Million Yen bars and as they wander about, they chat quietly about plans and argue about money as they nibble the cookies.  They go to an arcade on an upper floor which is a kind of mini-amusement park and go on several fun-house type rides, which are described in detail.  It's a very quiet and somber story; but also poetic and delicate, like so much Japanese art.  It's almost as though it is taking place inside a snow-globe that might be for sale in the store.  And by the end, they go to meet the woman and that's the end.  It takes place in a then contemporary setting and it is quite modern in every way.  I was expecting geishas and samurai and in a way, it's kind of what you get; but in a very modern and lighthearted rendering. His work had a lightness and immediacy I really liked.  And Mishima was a samurai in a very real way; going so far as to take his own life in an extremely medieval way.  I need to find a collection of his short stories.  Also a good biography, as I really can't understand why someone who can bring such beauty and intelligence into the world could be so misguided as to give in to jingoistic impulse.  Maybe he lost his mind?  I don't know.  It's a shame.  He might very well still be alive today if he hadn't taken himself out.  100 years-old, which is fairly common nowadays; and I think Japanese people have some of the longest life spans.  *SIGH*
Oh, Yukio, Yukio; we hardly knew ye. :(

​Moving on, I want to talk about a book I recently read that really kind of blew me away.  I'd never heard of this book before my husband recommeded it to me; but I had heard of the author.  He was kind of a famous screenwriter.  His name is Calder Willingham.

He was an American southerner, from Atlanta GA. Pretty sure he was gay.*  You can just tell sometimes.  It's a sensibility.  Did you ever read A Confederacy of Dunces?  When I read it, I knew nothing about it's author John Kennedy Toole.  But I sensed he was more than likely gay.  It's like a vibe that comes through.  An innate ability to tune into life's more absurd wavelengths; and find the humor there.  Even when things are serious.  As I was reading Eternal Fire to my husband (yes, out loud); I would stop at certain moments: a turn of phrase or a subtlety and think and/or say: "This guy is gay."  There are no gay characters in Eternal Fire; but there is one reference to "fairies."  It's a throwaway line but it says a lot.  Here is the cover of the first edition:

Now, looking at that cover (which you're not supposed to "judge" but I think should give one some kind of inkling about the contents); a person would have ZERO idea what it's about.  My first thought would be something religious. Or maybe a western, based on the bullseye and the type-font.  Perhaps, satanic.  And there is a character in the book who is absolutely a devil from Hell.  In fact, it has two utterly amazing villains.  Here's the softcover that came out shortly thereafter:

Okay; so, now we've got some cover art, hinting at what the story is about.  A Southern (big houses with columns generally imply the American south) bodice-ripper of some kind and we're getting closer.  Oh yes, bodices get ripped; but not in the way you would think.  The woman depicted looks nothing like the leading lady of the book.  The book is set in 1936 and that dame's hair is striclty from the first half of the 1960's.  The dress too.  The image doesn't catch the comedy of the book.  It's presenting "serious" passion.  And the book definitely has that, too.  Only not in the way you would think.  I'll explain.

*So, the computer tells me Mr. Willingham was married twice (to women) and had six kids.  This does not necessarily mean he was not gay; although it definitely drops the gaydar needle into the "more than likely straight" zone.  Perhaps, like my dad, Mr. Willingham was a gay man trapped in a straight man's body).


This book is startlingly honest about sex.  Its' honesty is what I think is the shocking part.  It's violent, nasty, taboo ignoring and perhaps racist.  It uses the "N" word way too much for my comfort levels; but racism is an element of the book.  It's embeddedness in Southern culture.  It questions it, yes; but the answers are ambiguous.  You have to ask yourself if the author himself is a racist.  Or, racist to some degree.  The answer is probably yes.  But I think the book deals with it honestly.  There is a Faulkner story in Mr. Fadiman's collection that I felt was unapologetically racist; but it's Faulkner, right?  So I guess he gets a pass.  But don't pass on Eternal Fire.  It's publishing history is fuzzy, from what I've read.  It didn't do well when it was released.  Willingham blamed that on a newspaper strike at the time.  But apparently enough people read it to object to it and the powers that be went after it as "obscene."  I can't seem to find any info about exactly how much of a "nation-wide sensation" it actually was.  The interweb tells me it was made into a movie; but the synopsis I read has nothing to do with it.  It's a puzzle.  Why it's not considered an American classic is astounding.  It could make an incredible movie or mini-series: the Cohen brothers come to mind; or Tarantino. Or Lynch when he was in a The Straight Story kind of mode. It was last published in 1986, with an even more confounding cover:

This one makes it seem like some kind of sand and camels epic; or another Dune entry.  Not to give too much away; but I'll give you the thumbnail skinny:
Eternal Fire is a "wrong side of the tracks lovers" story about a wealthy young man named Randolph ("Randy") and his "sweet-heart" Laurie Mae, who is a struggling school teacher.  Randy's surrogate father "The Judge" is a classic shady southern lawyer who is in charge of his "ward"s fortune; but he's been dipping into the till.  If Randy marries Laurie Mae, all of The Judge's misdeeds will come to light; so he does everything in his power to break them up by  sending all kinds of sleazy characters their way. This includes her cousin Harry, a young man with a penchant for seduction and absolutely no scruples (he has to be modern literature's first "Sex Addict" character; before that was a term!). The twists and turns and reversals of fortune come fast and fuious.  It's a big book but if flies by: the reason, I think not least of which (due to Mr. Willingham's cinematic eye) is that it plays like a really great movie in your head.  By the end of it, I had to keep stopping.  I nearly started sobbing several times, something which almost never happens to me when I read (but does seem to happen more often when I read out loud).  If I had a movie company, I'd be dedicating my time to trying to procure the film rights.  Generally, Southern fried-hot-and-sticky is one of my least favorite genres. But Eternal Fire is so...finger lickin' good...I can't sing it's praises enought.  It truly is unforgettable. And a roller-coaster ride and all those other quote-pull cliches.

So, getting back to Mr. Mishima.  When I was looking up his work and bios about him, I found tons of stuff online.  There is a lot out there.  So much, that I'm surprised he's not better known.  And I'm sad to say that I think homophobia has a lot to do with it.  I mean, this dude was full on gay! Like, the Harvey Milk of Honshu. But he was married.  And during his heyday, the lofty circles he floated in tried to hide his rice-paper-screen-bursting queerness.  His wife (natch) denied it.  I read that to this day, the movie Mishima: A Life In Four Chapters--which apparently shows Mishima in a gay bar--when broadcast in Japan, cuts that scene.  Clearly Japan is not comfortable with Mishima being a sword-swallower.  But I guess all other sword play is fine.  And he seems to have been obsessed with them:

Also, cigarettes.  Every other picture of him has him smoking.  Of course...he died by the sword.  So I guess in his case...his pen wasn't mightier?  See what I did there! 
​My thought is that any obsession, particularly with a weapon, is going to be your downfall.  But so often we have little to no control over our obsessions.  Perhaps he had OCD.  The obsessions inherent with OCD can often include violent thoughts and death.  Maybe, like me, he didn't know what OCD was.  Maybe it was his only way out of his torment. Maybe he didn't want help for his mental health; thinking that it might interfere with his artistic creativity (many artists have this attitude).  I hope wherever he is, it's a better place.
I know!  Here's a great place I bet he never imagined he would've ended up: in a manly beef-cake-photo-grid with Nick Offerman.  Nick was born the same year Mishima passed away.  Maybe there was some kind of soul transference.  Could happen! 

That wraps up this PRIDE edition of Chrisbooksaloon.  Hope you enjoyed.  And here's a link to get your hands on Mr. Offerman's wood.  Ah, oh, I mean: woodworking.  Yeah, that's it.  Woodworking.
offermanwoodshop.com

Let's bonk two birds with one stone.  Or three.  Or more.  It's time for LGBTQ+ PRIDE X FINE FEATHERED FRIENDS COLLAB:  And speaking of little birds...
LADIES AND GENTLEPERSONS!  MISS ANNIE LENNOX!!!
WILD APPLAUSE!

That's the first time I've seen that video.  It's fascinating.  You whippersnappers might need a bit of explanation.  Annie is in the bowler hat (on second look, a classic top hat) and the other "women" are "characters" she played in many of her music vids.  Like drag queens, Annie has always embraced her "otherness" and did her own kind of drag by putting on these personas in her videos.  This is where the time-space continuum gets weird.  The video for the song "Little Bird" was from 1992.  The characters on stage with her, starting with the "Sweet Dreams" persona (with the orange hair) originated in 1983.  That's not even ten years.  And now 1992 was 33 years ago.  Weird!
But before I move on with the cuckoo bird theme; I wanted to suggest a movie for y'all for Pride Month.  It's called: God's Own Country from 2017.  Let's look at the trailer!

Some refer to this film as the British Brokeback Mountain; and yes, it has quite similar themes and story elements.  And as fine a movie as I think Brokeback Mountain is; I think this one is better.  Or perhaps I should say, more realistic. Or maybe more honest?  I felt like Brokeback Mountain was actively trying to jerk my...tears.  With this one, I was trying to keep myself from bawling.  It stars Josh O'Connor before he was a STAR, which he seems to be fast becoming.  Speaking of Josh: he's played a lot of gay roles thus far so the logical question is: Is he gay?  But our immediate, preemptive follow up question should be: should we care?  I point you to my questions about these questions in my blog: Gay for Pay...  Here's a link!
www.christopherfreidy.com/blog/playing-gay-gay-for-pay-gay-today-gone-tomorrow

And our next question should be: Who Cares?  He's played gay, straight and bi and I've been transported by his performances in all.  And don't necessarily need to see him naked (but in never hurts!).  And he will give you ding-ding! I thought the sexiest scene in Challengers was the one where Zendaya was mostly clothed and he was in baggie underpants and they were more or less having a conversation:

IMHO, "SEXINESS" is really all about the ratio between covered and exposed skin.  Total nudity is too TMI, I think.
So, anyways...
At the top of this first blog, I was talking about conspiracy theories and Alice In Wonderland and making something up so stupid you would never think anyone would believe it; but are shocked to find that people will.  Not that I've ever made up a conspiracy theory.  However, being something of a "magical thinker" with a "highly active" imagination; I am quite prone to, let's just say, "falling" for them.  And isn't "The Rabbit Hole" now the culturally collective term for conspiracy theories?  And of course, where did we get the term?  Alice et. al. are connected pretty firmly to something called "MK Ultra."  We all know what "MK Ultra" is, even if we don't know.  Basically, it's brainwashing.  More specifically; brainwashing at the hands of some shady political agency to create a person who will do your bidding without realizing it, after you've, shall we say, pressed their button.  It's a cultural concept.  An entertainment trope:

Gilligan's Island taught a whole generation about a lot of things.  Apparently, Psy. Ops too!  And apparently, "MK Ultra" was a real thing.  Here's a link to a Wikipage about it, if you're interested:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MKUltra

If you've seen the film The Manchurian Candidate, it pretty much gives you the rundown on how the whole thing supposedly worked.  Here's an interesting video all about it:

But of course, it gets darker.  Supposedly there was an off-shoot of the program to turn young women into "sex kittens" for various and sundry nefarious purposes.  And like the playing cards in The Manchurian Candidate, supposedly characters, ideas and images from the Alice books were used in a similar fashion.  I don't know if this is true (and I truly hope it's not); but it sure kind of wrecked the books for me!
So how does this tie into birds, you might ask; and why are you going down this rabbit hole?
Well, since I brought Alice up and I was looking into what FOX celebs thought about birds, I came across all this stuff about FOX News apparently being duped (and decidedly trolled) about a conspiracy theory called: Birds Aren't Real.  After watching a bit, I quickly decided that the dude from the Anti-Bird group was yanking Pete Hegseth's chain pretty hard.  This patently abusurd "theory" apparently got far enough to get an "expose" on FOX Nation, whatever that is.  Here are some videos if you want to go further down this rabbit hole.  Or should that be bird's nest?

And I guess to be fair and balanced and give equal time...here's a link to the hardhitting Fox Nation expose:
nation.foxnews.com/birds-are-fake-the-conspiracy-nation/

And this:

I hope Mr. McIndoe (as I haven't listened to his Ted Talk) points up the actual real threats to birds whilst he's being satirical.
But I think we can all agree that Pete Hegseth is something of a bird-brain.  No, wait...that's not fair to the birds.
And here, to play us out, are The B-52's with one of their more obscure songs (and weirder too, which is saying a lot!): 
​BIG BIRD!

HAPPY PRIDE 2025!

MWAH!
Ciao for Now!

CFR   6/22/25

So this blog was supposed to be a hopeful one.  One to remind us of the promise of Humanity.  The Milk of Human Kindness...and it will be.  But since ICE and Co. are quickly turning into Brown Shirts, I think it's time for some levity.  'Memba this?

Ummmmmm...come to think about it...those lil' tots look like poster kinder for The Hitler Youth.  And it looks like "Mom" is pouring blood on the ice at the 13 second mark.  Huh.  So much for levity.  And now I'm thinking about "Box" from Logan's Run.  "Memba him?  It was his job...to freeze you!

And now I'll never watch this scene the same way again as it's become a parable for what's happening now.  
So, let's move on!
Where were we?  Oh yeah...KEANU REEVES!  He always makes things better.  When last we met, we were inquiring as to Mr. Reeves' love (or not) for our Fine Feathered Friends.

Now, I think the folks at the TikTok Keanu Fan Club might be making assumptions about Mr. Reeves ornithophilia; but I think they're pretty safe assumptions.  HAL agrees!:

And it seems to be backed up by other humans as well:

Here's another shot of Keanu "birdwatching":

And a link to watch this delightfully dumb video!
www.tiktok.com/@keanufanclub/video/7460541008804203809

And this brings us to some more GOOD NEWS about birds; brought to us, I feel, by the birds themselves.  I'm not quite exactly sure what type of bird that is that Keanu is admiring; but it looks a lot like a wood thrush.  Now, the wood thrush is a fascinating creature.  I'd never really heard one until I moved to Virginia; into a neighborhood that is still quite heavily wooded with natural forest (we have brown bears in our back yard!).  The wood thrush resembles an American Robin, in fact, I think they're in the same family.  Yes, they're both thrushes:

The wood thrush is a "near threatened" species, mostly because the woods they inhabit are disappearing.  They also have it coming at them from both ends.  They spring and summer here and fall and overwinter in South America, which is also losing its' forests.  Now, I've lived where I live for quite some time (like, shit, 20 years??!!?) and every summer I hear the wood thrush in the trees behind our house.  It's a haunting sound.  Their calls echo; and I attributed this to the "hollows" of the hills we're in, which amplify and muffle sounds in strange ways.  But the wood thrush's echoes are not an unusual phenomenon of acoustics.  The echoes are coming from the bird itself:

They are very secretive birds, usually staying high in the tree-tops: very much heard but not often seen.  That is, until this spring.  Which is interesting to me, since my phone has been auto-doom-scrolling to me, the dire news about an overall, general decline in bird populations.  So for years, in the warm weather, I only heard them.  It seemed as though they started their haunting songs in the early, late-afternoon until near sunset.  I never saw one.  A single one.  And I looked, believe me.  I'm not an "avid" bird-watcher; but I am a bird-watcher.  I keep a little journal of sightings of note.  Here's one from a few years ago (I hadn't actually laid eyes on the wood thrush yet):

But this spring, a bird flew into the yard and was sitting there and I didn't recognize it right off.  Then I realized it was a wood thrush.  And since then, I have had five or six eyewitness encounters.  It's like they're saying: "Cheer up.  We're not dead yet!"  It's kind of like a "build it and they will come" sitch.  For example, the Eastern blue-bird.

Growing up, I never saw a single blue-bird.  A bird which was once so common and loved it had entered a realm of archetypiality: The Bluebird of Happiness.  But I never saw one; that is, until I moved here.  And they're everywhere!  If our neighborhood had a mascont bird, it would be the Eastern Bluebird.  Now, my thumbnail understanding of the fortunes of the eastern bluebird was that it had once been super common but it had niche nesting habits.  One thing led to another and there was a huge decline.  But there was human intervention; one of the rare cases of it being a good thing.  Nesting boxes with the "niche" they needed in place.  People put them out; the bluebird came back.  Here's a little article on it:

The blue bird (Blue Bird? Blue bird? Bluebird? bluebird?) is not quite so delightful when it comes to protecting it's young.  A couple of years ago I went to get the mail and came across our cat, Marissa, playing with a baby bird.  Or perhaps a fledgling.  She hadn't killed it.  She hadn't even really roughed it up (cats will often "play" with things they catch, not really wanting to kill it, but ending up doing just that by putting the creature in shock).  I got the bird away from her, unscathed and brought it in the house:

We kept it inside over night.  All baby birds kind of look the same.  I had no idea what it was.  But once the cat was sequestered, I put the bird back outside.  It peeped a few times.  Within ten minutes a pair of blue birds swept in and came at me like harpies.  I don't know if you've ever been the object of birdie wrath, but it can be quite intimidating; even from a bird as seemingly benign as a blue bird.  Eventually "Larry" hopped off into the woods under the watchful eyes of his guardians (I'm guessing Mom and Dad blue bird?) and it was a happy ending.  Huh,  Happy?  Blue bird of happiness?  Right?  Nice!
We really can be kind to our fine feathered friends if we just take some time and effort to figure out their needs and wants.  What's the phrase? One for the birds.  Usually used in a dismissive way; as though the birds of the world were unworthy.  We need the birds.  If the bugs go, the birds go.  If the birds go...well, what's next.
I don't know about you; but I don't really want to find out.  And I really don't want to live in a world without birds.
Please see part 3 for the wrap-up: The Bird Are Coming! / Part 3: Gay Pride Birds of a Feather Bonus!

CFR   6/15/24

Down the hole again!  Will the fall never end, thought Alice (and everyone else with Undiagnosed Somatization Akiltism)?  Here we see the Dodo present Alice a Placidyl pill to prepare her for her trip to Underland South.

You really can't make this shit up.  You really can't.  But apparently you can.  And quite often, people will believe it.  Believe it as TRUTH.  Something you know is made up because YOU MADE IT UP.  There are all kinds of conspiracies that have wormed their way around Lewis Carroll's Alice books; a book I have adored since childhood but now find kind of tainted because of all the weIrdness around it; not least of which is that Carroll was more than likely a pedophile and the real-life Alice was one of the objects of his...lets just say...intentions.  I think there exist actual photographs of Alice that are...let's just say...inapporpriate.  And I am not going to try and find them and/or post them here.  First of all, I don't want to see them.  Secondly, I do not want to end up on some watchlist.  I'll get back to Alice later with some of the more disturbing "theories" about the books.  Or rather, what has happened to the books.
I started writing this blog because I've been thinking about birds.  I have also loved birds since childhood; and thus far, there have been no "theories" about them to impede that enjoyment--

Hey, I know!  Let's all take a Placidyl (TM/Reg.) pill before we continue!

So Christmassy!

...all is calm, all is right!

But let's go back a bit.  Do you remember back when Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds came out?  Back in a time when people actually cared about things like grammatical correctness?  Do you recall how people actually got upset when the tagline for the movie was seen as being an affront to the English language? The Birds Is Coming! People were perturbed by this perceived error in grammar.  Can you believe it?  Let's take a look at the trailer:

More to come, after this word from our sponsor...

There was also a cultural kerfuffle over the grammar of this ad campaign, if my College of Communication learnin' serves me correctly.  Back when the Culture Wars were about actual culture:

I guess it should be "...as a cigarette should!"  Grammatical correctness is not one of my stronger suits.  Both sound right to me.
Anyways...
My original thought about this blog was birds.  The animals.  You know; Our Fine Feathered Friends.  Our Web Footed Friends.  I hear a song cue.  Put your hands together for Mitch Miller and his Orchestra!

Way Back In the Day, my dad had quite a bit of the Mitch Miller oeuvre which he would break out for family parties and put them into rotation with the Irish music and more than likely, Neil Diamond(!).  The above ditty has lodged itself into my long term memory banks.
But yes, birds.
Some people are dog people.  Some people are cat people.  Some people are dog and cat people.  And some people are bird people.  But I would argue that bird ownership is still somtething of a niche group.  I don't think a lot of people realize that birds can be not just intelligent; but also, quite affectionate.  And I also think most people simply take birds in the world around us for granted.  And if not exhibiting outright hostility; usually affectless indifference.  A lot of people consciously or unconsciously suss out what other humans are like on a core level by the way they treat animals; particularly cats and dogs.  I go further.  I think you can glean a lot more from people and what they're all about in regards to how they regard birds.  So I wanted to do a little experiment.  For example, Donald Trump.  What is his attitude towards birds.  I mean, he famously does not have a dog and I think that says a lot.  But what does he think about birds and what does that tell us about his personality?  So I did a search:  DOES DONALD TRUMP LIKE BIRDS?  HAL 9000 immediately brought up the infamous "Eagle Clip":

Okay, politics aside 'cuz we're just talking personality here: I have to give Donnie props.  Not a lot of people would get in that close a proximity to Hallaeetus leucocephalus (sounds like a horrible disease that RFK would pooh-pooh); particularly a crotchety, "get outta my hair-space" one.  Despite the leather gauntlet, he was in real danger of getting a razor sharp talon or beak to the face.  Even small birds can be intimidating: e.g.: the mockingbird.  Have you ever had the latter dive-bomb your head?  It's scary!  Say what you will about him, he's got balls (despite the TACO moniker).  And then there's his obsession with windmills and their deleterious effect on birds.  So, he really likes birds, right?  But if he does, why has his administration repealed all kinds of protections on birds?  So, he doesn't care about birds, right?  Is the eagle just a prop?  Is he indifferent to the eagle?  Who is the eagle, metaphorically, in this case?
How about a person who I have doubts is an actual human being?  How about Laura Ingraham?  What does she think about birds?  Cue HAL!  HAL, What Does Laura Ingraham Think About Birds?
Here's a link to her musing on the attempts to bring back the Dodo bird with her frequent co-host Raymond Arroyo (and this is what passes for right wing "comedy" I guess).  You're welcome to watch but in sum, she seems extremely indifferent to the Dodo birds plight or it's potential come-back.  And Raymond seems concerned the Dodo could pose some sort of existential threat.
www.foxnews.com/video/6319625649112

Here's a screenshot of them mocking the Dodo:

They seem to enjoy mocking not only birds (they hate Big Bird from Sesame Street too); but other people--particularly their looks--and all I can say is: People Who Work In Glass Towers Shouldn't Throw Botox.  That Arroyo really bugs the shite outta me.  Does he know his last name means "dry riverbed" in Spanish?  Does Laura know her last name means "Raven of Peace"?  So, she's got a bird who gets a bad rap in her name (outside of Norse mythology).  Is Lara the blonde Maleficent of Right Wing Propaganda?

No, that's an insult to Maleficent. She actually had a sense of humor.  And an insult to ravens; who not only seem to have a sense of humor, but superiour intelligence, gratitude, kindness and affection.  Let's take a  look!

I've always loved crows and ravens and used to want one as a pet.  However they live for a long time and when they bond with you, it's like having a five year-old child. Super high maintenance and they belong in the wild anyways. 
But back to Mr. Arroyo, our glass house residing "personality" who love to throw stones.  Which makes sense, as he seems to have a real Biblical bent.  He writes a book series about a twelve year-old boy who's a sort of knock-off Harry Potter who is decidedly Christian, what with all his non-Wizarding Biblical Utility Belts.  His name is Will Wilder:

Oh, so it's specifically Catholic.  Gee, I wonder if Will Wilder has ever had to use his "staff of wonder" on Predator-Priest-A-Dons?  Or Scout-Master-Saurauses?
Mr. Arroyo seems to write mostly about boys and nuns.  Remember that scene in Airplane?

And do you think that Tad Lincoln ever wondered if his dad was more than likely Uranian?

​

Which really begs the question as to whether or not Mr. Arroyo is a bad drag queen.  Oh!  I mean, a "bad drag queen afficionado"!  But it's pretty clear what Ms. Raven of Peace thinks about LGBTQ+ issues and he's on her show, supporting and condoning her worldview; so I guess it's safe to say he's not an ally.  Here's a quote pull about a Wild Willy book:

I don't think I can really expound any further on that.

So let's ask HAL about someone that I think we can all agree is a "nice" person who has buckets of humility:
HAL, What does Keanu Reeves think about birds?

Please see: Here Come the Bird! Part 2 for next installment!

CFR   6/11/25