So, I promised y'all an UNSERIOUS video that I had an idea for and I filmed...something.  I wanted to edit this into...something; but I'm having trouble with the editing suite on my WindowsMicroOffice something or other. I mean,  I know I'm capable of it.  I edited this really fast:

This is my most viewed Youtube vid, by far.
That being said...
Here is the second take of a video I did for the song, "Lovin' You" from 1974 by Minnie Riperton and Richard Rudolph.  What am I going for here?  I'm not sure.  Amusement of some kind?  Yeah, let's go with that.  I'll post the other takes in a hot minute and then hopefully a finished version soon.  My sister and I loved this song when we were kids.  Particularly the part where she goes super high.  It tickled our funny bones.
Ahhh, here you go...
Enjoy(?)

More to come?
Ah, yeah, sure...

CFR   11/30/25

Okay, the last entry in our teaser campaign for my newest book (and my other stuff). 
Now yes, this is shilling; but I'm shilling for myself--that is, me--a poor, starving, artist just trying to make a living on his own merits.  His own CREATIVITY, if you will.  But, as we know, it's one of the sacrifices of being an artist.  It brings you joy.  You're driven to do it.  It's quite literally your raison d' etre.  But actually putting a roof over your head and food on the table with it...particularly when other people are so willing to take it from you for free; or feel they shouldn't have to pay for it; or, let's face it: steal it from you.  It's the age old story.  Van Gogh, whose paintings set crazy high records for asking prices; whose paintings are considered some of the most beautiful: he never sold one while he was alive.  He was too busy checking in and out of mental hospitals...
That being said.  I am neither starving (n)or homeless.  But I am lucky.  There are millions of people on this planet who I am sure are just as talented as Van Gogh but can't even think to consider creating art because they are too busy just trying to survive if not day by day; minute by minute.  So, with those sobering thoughts in mind, let's get back to ME.  I have published three books and I wanted to give you the skinny on that and also where you can find merch with my artwork on it.  So, I'm going to show you each book and it's various covers, formats and availability.  Think of this as a BLOGFOMERCIAL.  I'll start with my latest novel, 84 On the Floor which is a continuation of the saga of young Michael McNamara which began with 83 In the Shade:
​
84 On the Floor
This is available from Amazon.  I do all my stuff through Amazon right now because that's where I set it all up in 2015.  Is Amazon problematic for various reasons?  Yes, it is.  And there are a lot of CONS.  But the PRO is that I can get my work out there reliably, efficiently and quickly; so there it is.  "84" is available as a Kindle Ebook, a "trade" paperback (whatever that means) and a hardback.  If you do seek out my work (I will supply links below) you should be aware that some of it is under my full name with my middle initial: Christopher F. Reidy.  And some of it is under Christopher Reidy.  And some, even under Mr. Christopher Francis Reidy.  Why?  I'm not sure; but let's chalk it up to "computers" and leave it there.  Here are the covers: Ebook, soft cover and hard cover:

Back covers of the soft cover and the hard cover:

I wanted uniformity over all the versions but I ran into "computer" trouble; so then I thought: "Hey, let's mix it up!"  We'll call them "Collector's Covers" and leave it at that, capice?

83 In the Shade
This was my first novel, originally published in 2015.  There have been two official "editions" thus far.  It is also available through Amazon as an Ebook, a trade paperback and now in hardcover.  It is also on the shelves of Skylight Books in Los Angeles, the only bookstore in the country (that I know of) that has had it in stock since it first came out.  Here is the cover back to front, of the new "hard" version(!) which will be available very soon:

Other versions:

Top row, left to right: Paperback cover front, back. Kindle cover. 2nd Row hardcover, front and back.

So, those are the books.  I'll give you a link for each and then you are on your own.
Now, I always forget to pitch this because I always kind of forget that I'm on this site.  It's called FINE ART AMERICA and on my page there, you can find several of my pieces.  The wicked cool thing about this site is that you can get my art on everything from coffee cups to shower curtains.  For example, you can get my painting THE ASTRONAUT'S WIVES on a tote bag.  And you can even change the size of the image on the item.  For example, here's a tote bag with that piece in different compostions:

It's super cool!  And you can do this with all the images on all the items.  Here's Matt Damon's mouth on a throw pillow!

I really gotta upload more stuff there.  Actually, I'm not even sure if I've sold ANYTHING on that site; or how I even get a cut of the profits...or if I even GET a cut of the profits.  Ces't la vie, right?  Here's a link to the site and you can just do a search for CHRISTOPHER REIDY:
fineartamerica.com/art/christopher+reidy

Actually...
I recently finished a large painting entitled: "She's Integrating."  I can't tell you how long this sat in my studio, unfinished.  It became an albatross at one point and I finally priortized it and forced myself to finish it.  Here it is:

I will be donating it to a local charity.  Like I said, I just kind of want it out of my auraspace (although the finished product has kind of grown on me).  However, this is a painting I just want to "put out in the world," and see what happens.  My information is on the back and a way to contact me for feedback.  If you're a collector and this piece has tickled your fancy; perhaps you can acquire it.  I haven't donated it yet; but when I do, it will go to a Roanoke, VA concern that has a really nice store and art gallery.  It's called 2nd Helpings. Here is the info:

If you contact them perhaps you can make arrangements to make "She's Integrating," your very own!  I'll be donating it next week.  And I'll also put it up the image on FINE ART AMERICA.  And here are the links to the books:
www.amazon.ca/Floor-Mr-Christopher-Francis-Reidy/dp/B0G3979CK5/ref=monarch_sidesheet_title

​www.amazon.ca/83-Shade-Christopher-F-Reidy/dp/1511853522/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1UV541T9GTCY1&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.CKBxEi5LlmJln3OCU7WUJA.jz5ME3TgHXn4H2ofqzNVcQT6pcZAuDdEEkS9o3Yn8-U&dib_tag=se&keywords=83+in+the+shade+book&qid=1764361652&s=books&sprefix=83+in+the+shade+book%2Cstripbooks%2C126&sr=1-1

​www.amazon.ca/HEARTFIGHT-Screenplay-Christopher-F-Reidy/dp/B0G47XKGGG/ref=monarch_sidesheet_title

​Okay, so that's the end of our INFORMERCIAL.  
I've got one more thing to post and then it's on to the rest of the Xmas movie script.  For reals!
Peace and Love,
Chrissy

CFR   11/28/25

ADDENDUM:
12/2/25
So, I got the proof copy of the hardcover version of 83 In the Shade today.  It's a tad on the large side.  Like, text book size!  Here it is next to a standard sized desk stapler for scale:

Now, the reason I opted for this size is because when I tried to put my original text for the novel onto Amazon's hardcover template, anything smaller than the JUMBO made the text so tiny you would need a magnifying glass to read it.  I actually think this is much easier to hold than a standard hardcover novel size; particularly if you're reading in bed. So, I'm gonna hit the GREEN button on Amazon.
That is all...

Okay!  We're back to business!  What kind of business?  Why, Christmas business!  And what better than the day before the day before BLACK FRIDAY--oh, ah, that is to say--Thanksgiving.  And what are we thankful for?  Why, CHRISTMAS, bitches!!! 
Now that's not very nice dear readers.  Pretend I didn't write that.
Time for a complete reset.  It's been such a while that I've worked on this, I think we all (myself included) need to go back and reexamine what we already have.  I'm talking like, Square One.  So, here we go...
TITLE:
CUMMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
LOGLINE:
A young BUSINESS WOMAN, tasked with terminating a restaurant in her hometown, returns there to lower the boom. At her parent's holiday themed hotel, she gets caught up in the whirlwind of holidaylicious romance and finds herself with child.  Oopsie!  She's not sure who daddy is (but she's fine with that).  Is it her boss who's arrived to lower his own boom?  Or is it one of three triplet brothers who she may have accidentally made whoopie with? Who spiked the egg-nog!??!  Whoopsie!  You'll live, you'll love, you'll laugh when Ri-Ri Cummings comes home for Christmas!
TAGLINE:
It's Christmas baby... so who's your daddy?

SETTING(S):
A large American city that has tall buildings and does a lot of BUSINESS type business.  You know: THE BIG CITY.  The other primary location is a town in Vermont called WINOOSKI FALLS, which is an actual place in the far North of the state.  Picked primarily for its amusing name; the town is not far from Burlington, VT. It's also right near Lake Champlain and not so very far from Montreal, Canada.  Which I'm now thinking is going to afford this story a romantic weekend fling with Gino Vannelli playing under it and also a sighting of "Champy, America's Loch Ness Monster"!  Maybe even Gino Vannelli RIDING Champy!

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

HONORIA "RI-RI" OR "RI" CUMMINGS / 20s to 30s
Honoria works in the BIG CITY for JOHNSON AMALGAMATED.  It's a company that specializes in owning businesses, doing business in and at those businesses; and promoting those business endeavors through it's in-house promotional department. This is the branch that Honoria works for.  Honoria is a sensible kind of person with a head for business and a bod for sin, as someone once said.  It's business first though, and pleasure maybe later.  She's a bit underappreciated at work.  Or maybe taken for granted by her boss, Marlon Johnson; the owner and CEO etc. of the company.  She may have a bit of a crush on him and is in denial about it.  Honoria is the kind of woman who has known what she's wanted from childhood; and that includes children.  But it doesn't necessarily include a husband or the traditional family unit.  She grew up in a somewhat unconventional family in Vermont so she's pretty open minded. And yet, kind of traditional at the same time.  She does have a bit of a wild streak though--something else she might be in denial about.

MARLON JOHNSON / LATE 20'S TO EARLY 40'S
Marlon is the heir to the Johnson Amalgamated fortune and it's somewhat reluctant Chief Executive.  Business comes quite naturally to him; in fact, he can kind of do it blindfolded.  Brought up in wealth, he has it all; but has managed to avoid a lot of the ennui that having it all can engender.  In fact, he may be more than a little bored.  Maybe he wants kids too.  And perhaps a traditional kind of family.  Good natured and easy going as he is; he still puts in the work.  He is, of course, drop-dead gorgeous and prone to taking his shirt off, even in meetings.  He never has less than three buttons undone.  And he can pull it off.

JURGIN TURPIN / 30'S TO 40'S
Before we get to Mr. Turpin, I think it's time for a Gino Vannelli break...

Jurgin is Ri's "ADMIN" or ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT.  He's her Right Hand Man, although he prefers Left Hand Man.  Her Dude Friday.  He knows what she wants before she even knows what it is; but that doesn't necessarily mean she's going to get it if he doesn't feel like giving it.  Jurgin is a contradiction in terms.  A workaholic and slacker.  Brain dead one second, Creative Genius the next.  Prone to singing out loud.  Hates working in an office but needs that sweet, sweet Executive Goss.  He's gay.  Some might say he's "flamboyant" even.  He likes older, super-butch dudes.  Actually dates them instead of other Queens 'cuz that actually happens in real life, unlike on TV.  Can be cutting but likes to have fun.  Doesn't suffer fools well, unless he feels like fooling around.  Doesn't work with dogs or kids.  Cats, maybe.

ASHER "ASH" KRUMHOLTZ / 50'S-60'S (Whatever is age appropriate in relation to being RI'S FATHER)
Ash is Ri's dad.  He is also the Sherrif of Winooski Falls and the OWNER AND OPERATOR of KRUMHOLTZ'S ALL HOLIDAYS INN HOTEL.  He was also going to be the Mayor of Winooski Falls; but that might be spreading him too thin.  Ash looks, talks, walks and acts a lot like ACTOR JUDD NELSON when Judd is playing a nice guy; which isn't often.  So, maybe we could just have him be himself.  What's that you're asking?  How can Judd play anything nicer than just tolerably douchey?  Uhhhm, I'm gonna say by not actually acting?  Here's the "real" Judd, talking to Rosie O'Donnell

STONEY PETERSON / 40's PLUS
Stoney is the HANDYMAN at the All Holidays Inn.  He's the TALL, DARK (BALD? SALT AND PEPPER? SHY AND QUIET? WHATEVS!) AND HANDSOME TYPE a.k.a. a DILF or perhaps even GILF.  A Silver Fox, if you will.  AND YOU WILL!  He's the sort of stoic type of gentleman.  Not monosyllabic; but also not polysyllabic.  You find a lot of these type men in the Northeast.  Still waters run deep though and Stoney has recently come out of the outhouse and is on the market.  So is Jurgin.  Potentialities...

WHACK MY WEEDS, DADDY!

JEANETTE "JEAN" CUMMINGS-KRUMHOLTZ / 40S TO 60S
Jean is Ri-Ri's MOTHER and Ash's WIFE.  A little older but looks a lot younger.  Think Julia Louis-Dreyfus.  She's the Vermont-Earthy-Crunchy type by way of upscale Manhattan.  She's not a very good cook but she loves to do it.  She's always into the latest fad not so much because she's trendy; but because she has a real interest in people, things and life in general.  She's also a bit of the classic yenta, in particular with Ri; who she really thinks should be married because she wants to hurry up and be a grandmother already.  When she met and married Ash, she followed him to Vermont but she's still a city girl at heart.

MRS. SCHATZIE SCHNEEBALLE (AGELESS)
Mrs. Schneeballe is the PROPRIETRESS-RESTAURATEURTRIX of Jolly Jingle's Restaurant in Winooski Falls, that Ri is sent to close.  The same ACTOR also plays the mysterious LITTLE OLD LADY/STREET VENDOR at the the beginning of the film.

THE SCHNEEBALLE TRIPLETS: ZWEI, DREI AND EINS (MID TO LATE 20S-30'S)

Zwei, Drei and Eins are fully grown IDENTICAL TRIPLETS.  They are the SONS of Mrs. Schneeballe and work at Jolly Jingles Restaurant.  Prone to speaking in unison and in a slight, vaguely European accent (GAMMELTJULESPRAKIAN).  Their mother's English is even more vague and they oftent interpret for her.  

THE TRILLINGER TRIPLETS

More to come!

So, I am very happy to announce the publication of my latest novel, 84 On the Floor.  It is currently available on Amazon as a Kindle Ebook and also in hardcover.  I'm still working on the paperback; but since the hard and soft are the same price (that's what he said!) it's a Win-Win!  And so affordable.
You can also find my first novel, 83 In the Shade on Amazon and other places in various formats as well as my screenplay HEARTFIGHT; which is also available in ebook and softcover.  It's reading fun for everyone!  Well, most everyone.  They all contain material for "Mature Audiences"; so I would rate them mostly...oh...let's say..."R" to be on the safe side.  Please see a sample of "84" below and links to the other work.

From 84 On the Floor:

When the waiter left, I turned excitedly to my table-mates.  “The Flaming Volcano is the drink the B-52’s ordered the night they formed the band!  They didn’t even have a name yet!”
“You and that band,” Cheryl laughed.  “Geeks of a feather…”
“They’re awesome.” I stated.
“Flash in the pan,” she replied, looking up again from the drink menu.  “You know it says here the Flaming Volcano serves ‘six’— “
Before I could respond, Mrs. Lee, who looked exactly like the last time I’d seen her, came up to the table.  She was wearing a coral colored, matching skirt-suit and a string of pearls.  Her hair was styled in a bouffant.  She looked sort of like the first lady of some island nation.  She immediately recognized me.  I made introductions all around and then she spoke.
            “Oh, you look just the same,” she said, “only bigger.  How’s your mother?”
            “She’s good,” I said, “how’s Mr. Lee?”
            “Oh, he passed away three years ago.”
            “I’m so sorry,” I said, glancing at my friends who were all suddenly looking down at their menus.
            “Thank you,” she replied, running her fingers over her necklace, “but it’s all for the best.  He was in a lot of pain. He fell into one of the fish tanks and got bitten.  It never healed right.  It was a relief.”  Now everyone was glancing at the aquariums, pondering, no doubt, which aquatic creature may have been the culprit.
            “That’s…good,” I said, and then immediately and with absolutely no finesse, changed the subject.  “Say Mrs. Lee,” as I tapped on the glass, “is it true you used to have animals in here?”
            “When we first opened in nineteen-fifty-nine.  Mr. Lee had a monkey in there, but it would throw its doo-doos at the glass.”
            “Oh…”
            “But we didn’t have to worry about that for long because the snake took care of it.”
            “Oh?”
            “It ate the monkey.”  And again, before I could respond, Mrs. Lee was called away to the telephone.  “Nice to see you Michael,” she said, as she too receded into the gloaming
Cheryl peered through the glass.  “What kind of madhouse is this?”  

​www.amazon.com/HEARTFIGHT-Screenplay-Christopher-F-Reidy/dp/B0DSPLV7S3

​www.amazon.com/83-Shade-Christopher-F-Reidy/dp/1511853522

​www.amazon.com/Floor-Mr-Christopher-Francis-Reidy/dp/B0G3979CK5/ref=monarch_sidesheet_title

Laura baby, I just can't stay away!  
GEMINI UPDATE:
President Donald J. Trump...GEMINI
The Late and Former Father John Geoghan...GEMINI
What does this mean?  I don't know; but in light of our last interaction, well,, you know...
Or do you? 
In any event, Laura, I just wanted to update you on what's going on with me.  But first, this interesting tidbit.  So, tonight I was channel flipping and I bopped on by FOX News to see what the kids were up to and THE FIVE was wrapping up, you know how they do?  With the cutesy "human interest" bit at the end in their "Aw Shucks, Just One 'Mo Thing" segment; or whatever it's called? And I found myself looking at this:

Look familiar, huh?  Right?  Right?
So, I had to ask the Universe: "Why, Universe?  Why are you directing me to this moment of Jesse Watters and Greg Gutfeld, Project Runwaying-Who Wore it Besting, this J. Crew, pink, Fair Isle sweater for men; the same style of sweater you wore not once but twice (that I know of) in the 1981 Glastonbury High School yearbook?
Why Laura?
Do you know the split timing the Universe needed in order to put my eyeballs onto this visual media?  It's just too weird.  On so many levels...including the like...oh, ah, did J. Crew read my blogs about your sweaters?  Is it possible?  I'm starting to think that absolutely anything is possible.  Perhaps I'm being megalomaniacal?  Whatevs.  Everyone else is, right? 
But first, just let me say from a fashion standpoint, that although I adore pink sweaters for myself and the color pink on men; I do not think the Male Personage looks right in what is clearly a sweater meant for a woman.  That yoke is not right for a man.  Nor is the collar right in this case; and certainly not a combination of the two.  The floral/diamond motif might've worked if it was a band across the chest; but otherwise, no.  So, I think we need to do a deep dive into the Fair Isle sweater; wouldn't you concur?  Of course you would!  But first, let's look at the price that J. Crew is asking for this sweater:

Okay, it says it's wool; but I still think $168.00 is way too pricey.  Now, if a man really wanted this particular sweater, he could easily find it at L.L. Bean.  In the women's section.  He would just have to size up to an XL or larger, I'm thinking:

And look at the savings!  The base price is 70 buck less than the J. Crew and if you get the Bean credit card and use the 10% off for first purchase promo it's yours for...well, you do the math...but it's way less.  And you know, if you really had your heart set on pink, I bet you could find it on Ebay.  As a matter of fact, I'm gonna check right now

There!  Close enough. And look at those savings!  You're welcome Greg Gutfeld: YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT!
Done and Done.
So, Laura...
In my mind's eye, the Fair Isle sweater you're wearing in your yearbook pic is blue.  I took the liberty of colorizing it, as I was curious to see what color HAL 9000 would choose for you.  I never would have imagined it would be Oatmeal...

I was an early advocate of pink for men; once I got to high school, that is.  The color looked good on me and I kinda didn't care anymore what anyone thought.  Once you do that, you can really do anything, sartorially speaking.  It allows you to forget about self-consciousness and enter the realm of complete Fashion Confidence.  Also, that bright colors and pastels were all the rage in the 80's for both women and men, didn't hurt a thing!  I had a pink cotton crew neck sweater by Ron Chereskin that had an interesting basket weave treatment.  I LOVED that sweater.  I wish I still had it.  I would wear it in a heartbeat. I also had a pink Alan Flusser button-down shirt that was a fav.  I think I have a picture of me, in high school, wearing it...let me see...

Yep.  There it is.  I'm also wearing a pair of Ralph Lauren pants in Electric Blue that I acquired at Filene's Basement.  Oh, and I'm wearing boat shoes!  I don't think they were genuine Sperry Topsiders though.  I was on a tight budget.  But I think I nailed THE LOOK, FOR LESS!  And wasn't I cute!??!  I mean, I was a doll.  So why did I have so much trouble getting laid?
But you're not interested Laura--I'm sure--in my youthful failed attempts at finding partners for coitus, et. al.  I promised a review of your book Of Thee I Zing; and I have been skimming it.  I'm not quite sure, really, what its purpose is.  It is, I suppose, a comedic railing against the emptiness of American Culture, circa 2011; which is kind of a long time ago now.  Let's see...who was the Prez at the time?  Oh, Barack Obama, of course.  I have to think that even maybe you miss him because I know there's no possible way you are unaware of the insanity of the current Beltway culture.  You're either in denial or you simply don't care.  I'm not going to get into your book right now but I did find this telling...
In the introductional opening, you spin a tale of your visit to a Northern VA shopping mall. You wax apalled, aghast, agog and agape at what your senses are showing you; to the point where you claim you were dizzied.  It all culminated with the anecdote of a old man on a scooter colliding with a mother pushing a designer stroller and the poor man sprawled on the mall floor.  You seem to be sympathetic to the old man's plight but then perhaps indifferent as you take onlookers to task for putting the gent in that position and then not helping him to the point of stepping over him.  Here's my question: why didn't you help the old man get up?  You seem to have just watched as he squirmed on the ground and then struggled to his feet.  It seems quite clear in the retelling that you didn't help him either.  I also have to ask: What the hell is wrong with you--?  No, wait...I'm here to be nice.  To offer an olive branch of sorts.  I promise an entire book (oh, probably just a blog) devoted to your authorship at some time in the near future.  But don't hold your breath.
So, The City Was Trying to Kill Me!  That city being New York City.  The Big Apple, where you work, yes?  I was actually wondering how you commute every day from McClean Virginny to Manhattan but my research shows you have a private studio in D.C. and even a professional "In Home" studio.  Wow!  Swanky-panky.  Smash those perks, Ms. Ing!  Let's take a look!

Hmmmm...I'm a little concerned about the American flag on the "ground" like that.  Wassupwiddat, Inggy?  Oh, I also found this next video that seems weirdly AI; but whatevs.  It mentions you're Irish.  Me too!  And it also mentions you're Polish.  Me not!  But I did grow up with Polish neighbors who were like, fresh off the boat Poles.  The Sowa family.  They were very interesting.  I remember Mr. Sowa telling me and my sibs about how cold it got there.
MR. SOWA
(Heavy Polish accent)  Vinter dere vass so kolt, you vould spit and it wut fweeze before it hit da grownt!
The things that stick in your mind, right Laura?  What are your thoughts on Irish jokes?  Me, like most Irish folks, could care less.  But what about Polish jokes?  They seem a little more pointedly mean.  Oh, here's a link to the topic:
history.stackexchange.com/questions/2133/what-is-the-origin-of-the-stereotype-that-polish-people-lack-intelligence

And what of Polish food?  I would imagine it's a lot better than Irish food; which is basically potatoes and/or beef stew.
What is the National dish of Poland?  Let's find out!

Sour rye soup intrigues me, no end.  I love tangy, sour stuff that's savory at the same time (that's what she said!).  Like Hot and Sour Soup.  Yum!
But back to your in-home TV studio.  Okay, I just gotta say it.  I'm more than a little disappointed in you Laura.  You're cheating on us.  Stars and Stripes floor mat or not; you're cheating on the American Public.  How?  By wearing pajama bottoms and what appear to be Crocs (while you're broadcasting), from the waist down; that's how. Ings, you're not on a Zoom call.  You have a job to do, excoriating all things LIB, and I, for one, feel you can't really do this properly-achieve the highest levels of high dudgeon- unless you are head to toe Talbot's.  Your tootsies should be in the most foot torturing pumps possible.  You can't truly get superior judgment if your feet are comfortable.  Which brings us to feet again, which we've discussed before, re: Our Lord and Savior.  You actually talk about feet in Of Thee I Zing.  Let's take a look!

Copyright / Laura Ingraham / Simon & Schuster-Threshold Editions / All Rights Res. / Pat. Pend. / Used without permission


So, I think it's a fair assumption, Laura, that the whole abluting, crying on, kissing all over of, annointing of Jesus' feeet might be a deal-breaker for you.  Or a religious conundrum at the very least.  Oh, and while we're back to your book; this caught my eye:

Copyright / 2011 / Laura--blah, blah, blah...

Wowsers! Ageist much Inggy?  I mean, how do you even deal with all the May-Decemberists out and about nowadays?  I mean Karoline Leavitt and her shrivelled old shell of a husband, right?  Eeewwww!  Gross!  Gag me with a golden spoon!!!  And what about Sarah Paulson and Holland Taylor?  That must make your head explode!  
You know, after my series of blogs wherein I made all kinds of assumptions about your life and your worldview; I have to say, in many ways, Of Thee I Zing bore out the correctness of many of my inklings.  And shockingly, we AGREE on a lot of stuff!  Who knew?!!? (Frinstance, the literal rolling around in mud and trash at Yasgur's Farm--it's always curled my hair!).  Oh, before I forget...here's that other video about you:

And am I right about the kind of weird AI vibe of this video.  Like, who put this together?  ANONYMOUS?  And what's up with their videos?  They're a little too on the extra side for me, what with the corny narration and the foreboding voice and so on.  Let's take a random look, shall we?  No, on second thought, let's not.  I don't need Illuminati recruiting emails in my inbox...am I right Laura.  (LAUGHS NERVOUSLY, LOOSENS NECK TIE, GRIMACES).
I know!  Let's get back to feet!  My feet.  Which were part of a conspiracy to take me down recently in The Big Apple (and succeeded); but first, this word from our sponsor:

Hey, was that a young Mandy Patinkin* in there?  I think it was!  WOOF!

That's him in Yentl.  Full monty.  He musta been walking around on the set starkers for days.  Hey, Babs S. knew what she was doing!  And he's a Sagg.  Enough said. So, back to me...
Please examine the following diagram:

So, we'd been in New York.  Oh, it was an exciting whirlwind of activity!  We went to the observation deck at The Freedom Tower and it was pretty nice, as those things go.  We got lucky too, because after we'd had our fill of all the spectacular vistas; a fog rolled in and it went down to ZERO VISIBILITY.  Total white out on the other side of the glass, which was kind of weird.  Like when you're on a plane and it's completely white outside the windows.  Very disorienting.  So we were walking back uptown to go to the Whitney Museum and that's when it happened.  We're walking along, chatting; there's a light rain and BOOM!  Down I go.  One minute I was vertical and the next, utterly horizontal.  My feet in the street.  Talk about disorienting!  It was quite humbling.  Slightly shocking.  And extremely sobering.  I was wearing a new pair of Van's I'd scored for a song.  Super cool ones in furry leopard print.  My first pair.  I love them.  They slip on.  They're super comfortable and beyond sturdy.  Remember that scene in Fast Times At Ridgemont High when Sean Penn as Jeff Spicoli is on the phone and he says something like: "Dude, I'm so high!  Listen to this..." and he bangs his head with the heel of his Van's.  And you're like, yeah, well is that funny because he's high and it's just a flimsy sneaker?

Actually, you could probably kill someone with one of those sneakers.  I'm not joking.  
So, was the city trying to kill me?
Here's the physics of what happened.  So, I'm stepping up from the street onto the curb.  I don't know if you've ever noticed the corners of curbs in Manhattan.  I know I never truly did until this happend to me.  The curved curb is edged in steel.  Smooth, hard steel.  Well, when steel gets wet, it gets as slippery as Crisco on a kumquat!  Or Vaseline on vinyl Volvo seats; or Abolene on an anuscope(!).  My new Van's, with their factory flawless sole, hit that stained steel and just took this fellah down.  I mean, I like to go down as much as the next guy; but not like this.  Am I right Laura?  Can I get an Amen! sistah?  Preach girl!  It wasn't a trip up, because I didn't trip.  It was a slip-up; pure and true.  My shoe did not find purchase on concrete but hydroplaning on Manhattanmetal; pure and simple.  It really makes you think...I suppose about how precarious life really is and how it's a miracle most of us make it through intact, for as long as we do.
I got really lucky too.  The space on the sidewalk was clear.  My camera happened to be inside my coat, so it was fine.  And most of my person was fine.  My right hand and in particular, the middle finger of my right hand, bore the brunt of my fall.  All 180ish pounds of me going from upright to downright in about 0.05 seconds.  Scraped a pretty good chunk of flesh off; but otherwise, I was fine.  Now, of course, my husband was right there to help me up; although he had to realize I wasn't walking with him for a moment.  "One second you were there," he said, "and then you weren't!"  I thanked him for not laughing.  He's one of those people that laugh when they see someone go down.  He can't help it.  It seems to tickle his slapstick funny bone.  But, I suppose he didn't actually see the fall.  Just me lying on the streetcorner.  And Laura, you know how they say New Yorkers are mean?  That they're so jaded they just don't care about other human beings and might step over an old man at a mall, say, rather than help him up? Well, I'm happy to say that I can say that this is not true!  The only other person on the street ran over to see if I was okay.  An attractive red-headed gentleman. It restored my faith in people Laura!  Say, did you hear what happened to Jean Smart, the actress, recently?  Well, she went down in NYC too.  She tripped over something when she was hailing a cab.  She went down so hard she broke her kneecap on something.  Yikes!  So, my sidewalk plant will forever be referred to between the husband and I as being JEAN SMARTED.  And it smarts, let me tell you! So, for the rest of the trip (so to speak); I was extremely wary of falling again.  And perhaps I was hyperaware after my fall; but it did seem like there was stuff all over the place to trip on: cobblestones, broken concrete, pieces of police barriers, folding chairs laying on the streets.  As a matter of fact, on the day we arrived and we were walking to our hotel, I noticed outside of Madison Square Garden a traffic island that had been tiled with granite; but the tiles were all broken and loose and wonky and uneven.  I even commented on it at the time; so it was almost as if I was precogging my own fall.  And maybe the City knew this.  You could even look at it from the glass half full perspective: that the city took me down when it did in as gentle a fashion as it could because it knew that say, a girder was going to fall further up the street.  Or a basement access door might be standing open in the dark with no fluorescent cones to flag it. Or a 100th story window popping out. Or whatever.  So: Thank You City That Never Sleeps!  Shine the Light, Lady Lib!  Right Laura?  Oh, right...you don't like LIBS.  But you can't not like Lady LIBerty.  Why, that would make you unAmerican!

Or maybe she's too French for your tastes.  You folks on the Right seem to have nothing but disdain for all things Francophilic.  But back to you Laura.
So, I was at the mall today and guess what I was seeing.  A lot of.  A LOT!  Fair Isles sweaters.  I mean, they were everywhere.  I'm not kidding.  Apparently they are thee TRENDING sweater for Winter/2025.  Is it me; or do you think this is as weird as I do?  Speaking of your Fair Isles sweater Laura; I took the liberty of seeing what it looked like in some other colors besides Black and White and Oatmeal.  Let's take a look!

Oh, and then I tried my own hand at colorizing you!

It started veering into Warhol territory; but I really kind of like it!  One attempt failed but I thought it looked kind of like a punk rock album cover; so then this happened:

So, that is my imagined cover of the debut album of your Post-Punk-Power-Pop All-Girl Group: INGY-CHSMBOP
Released in 1984, the album, titled: Nevermind The Bangers And Mash! was the breakout disc from Dartmouth's college radio scene.  The major hit, "Don't Mess With My Left (Hook, Schnook!)" was described thusly in Fuzz Box magazine:

"...lead vocalist Ingraham's strangled, choking vocal on "Don't Mess," during the cacophonous instrumental break, is nothing less than a shattering, auditory assault; as though Yoko Ono, Janis Joplin, Nina Hagen and Ella Fitzgerald were birthing their love child in a back room at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge..."

The magazine's legendarily impossible to impress head critic, Clive "Jivey-Jive" Gladstone was smitten.  He went on to analyze the album's "Daddy's Girl."

"...on "Daddy's Girl," Ingraham channels all the subsumed rage of the Connecticut Sweater Set's Patriarchally Patronized submerged, consumer culture rage:

“—Daddy I’m your princess, I’m your little girl, but your bourgeois worldview makes me wanna hurl!  Can’t you understand I’m a little bitch?  You should’ve just left me in that fuckin’ ditch! 
​Daddy’s girl, I’m a Daddy’s girl, in the middle of my forehead is a little curl.  Sometimes I’m good but that’s pretty rare; so you better know now you haven’t got a prayer!”  

She goes even further on "Volvo Vinyl"  eliciting the equisite ache inside the withering heart of every wannabe teenage Marilyn Chambers.  It's Ivory Snow Girl gone full Gomorrah:  *(lyrics forthcoming)..."

Yeah, old Clive was a fan!
Laura, I think I might have too much time on my hands!
Anywhoose...
Yeah, so this Fair Isle Sweater business...
First, a quick look at the history of the sweater:

But why is it having a resurgence; right now; in the moment we're living in?  I'm being serious!  It's trending:

I mean, surely this is just coincidence, right Laura?  I mean, this surely can't be connected to our recent conversations about Sweater Culture in Connecticut and your love of the Fair Isle, can it?  I mean, seriously...can it?  Like I said; I'm not sure about anything anymore.  Although I am pretty sure I left a big chunk of my DNA on a streetcorner in NYC.**  I hope someone doesn't try and clone me!  I mean, one of me is enough, am I right Laura?!!?  Although, if some couple who wanted a baby and couldn't and asked for some of my spermatazoas, I would say yes.  I would hope OCD isn't a pass-downable trait though.  But I will be honest and say that I think I got some awesome genetic material passed down to me from the Doherty and Reidy clans and I would not be averse to passing that on.  I think I got the kindness and sense of rightness genes and I think that would be good for anyone further on down the line; and I say that at the risk of being megalomaniacal.  So sue me.
Laura, I just had an idea for a blog all about YEARBOOKS (which, coincidentally, you take to task in Of Thee I Zing).  I will be making notes.
BUT IN THE MEANTIME...
I PROMISE I AM GOING TO FINISH MY G-D CHRISTMAS MOVIE SPOOF; NO "IFS" "ANDS" OR "BUTTS"!!!

**I will try and find GooglePix of exact street-corner
*I don't think Mandy is in that commercial...I think it's this one:

Also, Brooke Shields appears at the end of the first I LOVE NY commercial.  Now, I don't think she was yet doing musical theater; so how she ended up in the commercial is, I'm sure, a tale only Miss Shields could tell.  But she went on to do just that; on stage and on TV.  Let's take a look!  Actually, I can't find it.  It was an episode of Suddenly Susan where the cast was flashbacked to the 1890's or something and ended up singing "Proud Mary."  I had no idea this visual media existed until I happened upon it late one night on one of those Nostalgia TV channels. I didn't watch that show, despite my love of both Brooke and Mr. Judd Nelson.  I mean, who knew that Booke Shields and Judd Nelson were doing musical theater on National Television in the late 90's?  And I mean, I'm biased; but I thought it was pretty great!  I mean Brooke just continues to surprise even me; and I'm enamored!  She writes songs, too?  Let's give this lady some long overdue PROPS people.  Check this out!

www.facebook.com/share/v/1AahWM7BYV/

CFR   11/23/25
ADDENDUM:
So, I think I found the EXACT NYC street-corner that taught me a lesson...
​Washington and West 12tth:

Yeah, that's it.  That construction is completed; but look at that curb.  There's no handicapped accessible built-in ramp, as you can see.  And there still isn't, as we know.
But, we live and we learn.  And you can be damn sure I'll be hyperaware of NYC streetcorners in future visits; that is...if I'm not looking up!  

We are all of us in the gutter; but some of us are looking at the stars...

And boy, was I seeing stars!

Available now as a KINDLE E-BOOK at THE AMAZON KINDLE STORE; Just in time for Christmas.  MAKES A GREAT GIFT!
See link below!

From 84 On the Floor
            “Jeez,” she said, looking around at the rest of us, “where’dya think we ahh?  The Combat Zone?”  She pushed Carey away and pulled a set of keys from her jacket pocket, which she jangled in the air.   “I got some goodies down on the boat…” As I pondered exactly what she meant by “goodies,” she proceeded to lead us all down to the rickety dock where a half-dozen or so boats of varying sizes were berthed.  One of the larger craft, with the name of “Finicu-la-Dee-Da,” rocked slightly in the water as she clambered over the side and waved the rest of us on deck.  Although it was one of the bigger boats, it really wasn’t quite large enough for eight good-sized teen-age boys and three girls with Giant Hair.  Gina unlocked the door to the cabin and ducked in. Then, the wan glow of a flashlight illuminated the interior as the rest of us proceeded to try and cram into the cabin.  Somehow, we did it, and I found my back pressed up against Casey’s expansive torso.  This was not an unpleasant place to be.  Casey, for his part, did not seem to mind at all either. I began to wish that he would open his top-coat (as his brother had for Gina) and enfold me in it.  I could feel his breath in my ear and it was sending tendrils of current down my body.  It was all I could do to concentrate.  To try and keep from getting hard and melting at the same time.
With almost no light and all the shadow cast by the bulky forms, I couldn’t really see what Gina was doing.  I could hear her, moving around in a second, lower space banging things and occasionally cursing.  “Where the fuck did I put it?”  “What the hell am I gonna do with that?” “Maybe I put it in the dinghy?” “Would one of you come down here and help me find it?” The other boys were joking and laughing as quiet calls of “…that’s what she said…” were uttered with each provocative exclamation from our hostess.  “Oh, for frig’s sake, here it is!” she finally said and then materialized with a plastic baggie.  “That’s What She Said,” corny as it was, never got old and always elicited a laugh.  For the male of the species, anyways.  The girls hated it.  Mary and Donna were not fans.  Donna, especially, would swat anyone who said it with a terse, “grow-up.”  Yeah, girls liked That’s What She Said about as much as they liked farting; and only slightly less than The Three Stooges.
The Zip-Loc turned out to contain free-floating Mary Jane, Zig-Zag paper and a couple of pre-rolled joints.  A marijuana cigarette was extracted from the bag and “fired up” with a flick of the Bic by our hostess, who took a toke and congenially passed it along.  Carey, of course, being to her immediate left and she his inamorata, took it from her taloned fingers.  He hit it hard and did not relinquish the doob until he was accused of bogarting.  With a laugh, it was passed to Andrew and then Ronnie and then Randy.  When it was offered to me, I declined, as did Casey—which was a surprise to no one.
            Gina tsked when Casey demurred.  “Oh, Case, you’re such a goody two-shoes…”

​​​www.amazon.com/84-Floor-Christopher-Reidy-ebook/dp/B0FY46ZF1F/ref=sr_1_1?dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.whPF0W18xPUkjFfOIgOr8wV376iqyPATAzVqP_-cx_vGjHj071QN20LucGBJIEps.LKqR0uHQCNVhB9s1EYTl46ffINbqgPQbyZBtM4ykD8g&dib_tag=se&qid=1762657894&refinements=p_27%3AChristopher+Reidy&s=digital-text&sr=1-1&text=Christopher+Reidy

​From 84 On the Floor:        

A particularly annoying radio commercial was in progress: “Are you living an alternative lifestyle?” an authoritarian male voice queried.  “Do you wish you were?” a suggestive female voice returned.  With a groan, Cheryl turned it off.  “He was in a really bad diving accident in college,” she said.
            “What kind of diving?” Sally asked.
            “Muff diving!” Cheryl snapped, “whadya think?”
            “Well,” Sally said, defending herself, “there’s like scuba diving and like diving board diving—”
            “Also, cliff diving,” I added, reading what was scrawled in (presumably) No. 2 pencil on the inventory slip Tim had given me: Mike, give a call and we can hang out sometime!  And then a phone number. 
            “Sky diving…” Sally offered.
            “Free diving,” I chimed in, “when they like hold their breath and swim to the bottom of the ocean—"
            “Sponge diving!” Sally teased.
“Okay,” Cheryl huffed admitting defeat, “like, high diving and stuff—off of platforms and into pools. Olympic level shit. He was supposed to go next year.”
Sally sighed.  “That’s so sad.  So, like, how badly is he paralyzed?”
Cheryl of course knew almost all the details.  But I didn’t want to hear them from her.  If I heard them from anyone, it would be Tim.  I tuned out the conversation in the front seat, instead, imagining Tim diving high into the air from an Acapulco cliff, executing a perfect front-four-and-a-half and slipping silently between two perfect white-caps bobbing on a sapphire sea.

84 On the Floor is currently available from the Kindle E-Book store and is forthcoming in paperback.  Available on Amazon.  Here's a link:

​​www.amazon.com/84-Floor-Christopher-Reidy-ebook/dp/B0FY46ZF1F/ref=sr_1_1?dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.whPF0W18xPUkjFfOIgOr8wV376iqyPATAzVqP_-cx_vGjHj071QN20LucGBJIEps.LKqR0uHQCNVhB9s1EYTl46ffINbqgPQbyZBtM4ykD8g&dib_tag=se&qid=1762657894&refinements=p_27%3AChristopher+Reidy&s=digital-text&sr=1-1&text=Christopher+Reidy
​
CFR   11/6/25

So I watched some of All's Fair last night, out of curiosity.  All I can say is; I'm glad I'm not a cat.  I had zero interest in it; but since I read that it managed to get a 0 (ZERO) rating on some platform (all platforms?), my interest was instantly renewed.  So, I think this will sum it up...
If you want to experience the show in real time; all three episodes that have thus aired*; simply do the following.  Put on your fanciest outfit; whatever you might wear to a wedding or a nightclub.  Go to the nicest, cleanest, fanciest room of your house and shit** in your fanciest chair. Recite the following line in as flat and emotionless a voice as you can muster; as though you were, oh, I don't know, asking a person at the bus stop if they had the time.  Or maybe saying "I think you have the wrong number" or perhaps: "One plus one equals two, I think," or "I'm gettng the car fixed next week":
               
                 "I can't believe this is happening.  I feel like I'm in a dream."
​

Now, don't get me wrong.  I like Kim Kardashian.  She has a wryness that I must give props to; even as she's living perhaps the most CONSPICUOUSLY CONSUMPTIVE lifestyle of maybe anyone on the planet.  At least in the top 10.  I like her sort of jaded, dry humor; particularly when she interacts with her own mother, who she appears to realize is not just acquisitive but grasping and capital "A" avaricious.  Yes.  I like Kim.  She has charm and somehow manages to wallow in and rise above her family's gluttony, simultaneously.
That being said...
She's from the generation that had the "Participation Trophy" invented for and then bestowed upon them.  The youngsters who created and condoned MANIFESTING; which is simply WISHFUL THINKING with entitlement.  So, I guess that Kim is MANIFESTING that she is an ACTRESS.  And perhaps she is.  I mean, she's apparently doing things that actresses do.  That is, reading scripts, memorizing dialogue, preparing for performance, undergoing hair and make-up, appearing on set, waiting for the camera to be turned on and "ACTION!" called.  Action commenced: brain synapses firing, mouth opening, tongue moving, larynx producing vocalizations, memorized dialogue emerging from mouth and being recorded; to then be married to picture and VOILA!  Yes, so she is acting.
But is she?
Okay, full disclosure. *I did not watch all three episodes of All's Fair that are currently available.  I watched the opening of the pilot and a scene with Jessica Simpson recounting her tale of woe involving elder abuse at the hands of Rick Springfield and then a scene wherein Kim (or should I say, "Allura"(!)?) was giving a pep-talk to an African American actress who I didn't recognize; something along the lines of "Greed is Good," from Wall Street.  My takeaway from the scene was a close-up on the black lady's belt buckle (Gucci, I think) as she revealed (I think) that she was pregnant.  Oh, and then another scene where the Lady Lawyers were sitting around (lunching? loafing?) as Kim/Allura spun a detailed account of her vaginal rejuvenation; I mean, I think that's what she was talking about.  But I wasn't quite sure if it was the character or Kim herself who was recounting the "Ladyl-Lift" procedures.  And I have to say I had a bit of a falling crest as I watched Naomi Watts and Glenn Close have to "react" to this tale of vagina plumping, over creme brulee, no less.  "Really," I thought, "is this where we are, Glenn?"  Naomi seems to be fighting, with every shred of her being, turning the proceedings into weighty drama, as is her usual wont.  And she might as well, as the proceedings vary so wildly in tone and execution.  Oh, I should also mention I watched a trailer for the whole show and was happy to see that Brooke Shields is going to be on it.  The roster of guest stars seems to be skewing towards actresses that have not been given much respect over the course of their careers and I would place Brooke in that demographic (I think shes fabulous!).  But Jessica Simpson was required to cry during her Groupie Abuse monologue and it seems she might have had some practical FX for crying applied in the form of not so subtle "tearlike protoplasm."

So, I guess the above is supposed to be the lengths she went to, to please Rick Springfield.  I find this kind of ironical, as many of the actresses she was speaking to in the scene are not too far from this look.  In fact, she looks like every Real Housewife I've ever seen...so, this is supposed to be the "botched" AFTER?  Whatevs.
So, a lot of people seem to be asking (myself included): "Is this supposed to be CAMPY?  Is it supposed to be BAD ON PURPOSE?
I'm going to rewrite the first scene from the first episode and I'm going to exaggerate it a bit; but not too much.  Ready?  Let's go!

DRAMATIS PERSONAE:
KIM KARDASHIAN AS "ALLURA GRANT"
NAOMI WATTS AS "LIBERTY RONSON"
GLENN CLOSE AS "DINA STANDISH"
NIECY NASH AS "EMERALD GREEN"
SARAH PAULSON AS "CARRINGTON LANE"

FADE IN ON:
INT. LAW OFFICE -DAY
We see the conference table in a luxurious LAW FIRM.  The luxury table, made of the finest timbers, illegally sourced, gleams luxuriously in the light from the windows.  Around the table are various OLDER MEN in tailored, three-piece, pin-stripe suits, all smoking cigars and CHUCKLING heartily over the punchlines of what we can assume are sexist jokes.  The sole WOMAN at the table, swathed in white cashmere rolls her eyes.  This is DINA STANDISH 70s.  An elegant woman, she turns and regards two other figures exiled to a far coner of the room.  ALLURA GRANT, late 30's and LIBERTY RONSON, 50's are observing the proceedings as they wear super-stylish business attire.  They seem to be doing employee stuff, judging from their briefcases, pencils, coffee cups and...briefs?  They too seem peeved, if not perturbed.  Dina turns her glazed gaze back to the table.
CUT TO:
INT. LAW OFFICE HALLWAY -DAY
Allura and Liberty stride down the sumptuous marble hall; their Jimmy Choo stilettos CLICKING on the luxurious marble floor.
ALLURA
Oooh!  These mean old men around here!  They really make me mad, not taking us gals seriously.  It really bugs me!
LIBERTY
(IN A BRITISH--NO, WAIT--AUSTRALIAN(?) ACCENT as she removes her gigantic Oliver Goldsmith sunglasses) Me too!

ALLURA
Hey, grrrrl; whadda yay say we walk and start our own law practice; one that's just for us Grrrrls?!!?
LIBERTY
That's a fair dinkum idea--oh, I mean smashing--but we'll need another Powerful Woman to be our in-house private lady-dick!
ALLURA
Maybe we should run this up Dina's flagpole and see if she salutes?
LIBERTY
Lord love a duck!  You're right!  I love your Balenciaga assless chaps by the by--
ALLURA
Thanks; butt does my butt look too big?
LIBERTY
Let's ask Dina!
CUT TO:
INT. DINA'S OFFICE -DAY
DINA
Your derriere looks fabulous dear and I for one think displaying it in this all male environment is truly empowering.  How do you get it to smell like vanilla and baby powder?
ALLURA
Oh, the Vanilla-Baby Powder Werewolf Plasmass Infusion Procedure!
DINA
I'm all ears!
ALLURA
Well, first, they shave--
Suddenly, the doors to Dina's office fly open, nearly knocking over Liberty, who is preparing a Pink Lady at the wet bar.
LIBERTY
Hell's bells!
The individual who has burst in is none other than CARRINGTON LANE, 40's.  Swathedd in all black St. John, she swings her Vuitton briefcase as she strides across Dina's luxury carpet.  Carrington is seething.  A bit frazzled as well.  She's clearly not as "polished" as the other ladies.  Her hair should really be in a bun and her eyes hidden behind Coke bottle specs.  And she may suffer from Tourette's Syndrome as she utters some of the filthiest phraseology outside of an early John Waters' movie; lines that no woman would ever utter and sound suspiciously as if penned by humans with scrotums.

DINA
Carrington; I don't remember our having a meeting scheduled at (looks at watch: CLOSE-UP on CARTIER DIAMOND WATCH), twelve past three...
CARRINGTON
I heard it through the grapevine that these two twat-waffles are leaving the firm and they haven't asked me to join them!
ALLURA
Wow, news travels fast around here; we haven't even told Dina yet--
CARRINGTON
I'm not talking to you necrotic-nips; and I can see your lady starfish in those whore pants!
DINA
Carrington, don't you realize that talking like a sailor is not Female Empowerment?  It's Patriarchal Conditioning!
CARRINGTON
You can take your "patriarchal conditioning" and ride it like a Jeff Stryker Special!
LIBERTY
Who is Jeff Stryker?
CARRINGTON
A gay porn star from the 90's you moron!
LIBERTY
No worries, Sheila...
CARRINGTON
My name isn't Sheila, you c--
DINA
That's enough.  I'm afraid I'm going to have to fire you, Miss Lane.
CARRINGTON
You can't fire me!  I QUIT!
Carrington takes a softball from her briefcase, winds up, pitches and smashes a glass curio cabinet with it.
DINA
That was a gift from Margaret Thatcher, who said--
CARRINGTON
I don't give two shits from a shit-burger sandwich what she said!  Bill me!
ALLURA
Grrrl, you are fierce!
EXIT CARRINGTON
LIBERTY
Blimey, mate!  God save the Queen!  

Sidenote:
​So, I went back and looked at more of Episode 3 of All's Fair, which was cued up on my HULU page.  Yes, I have Hulu.  From back when it was five dollars a month.  Uncle Walt jacked that price pretty quick after the Jimmy Kimmel debacle, didn't he?  Yes, I watched more and it was even worse than I feared.  What Chris?  What was worse than you feared?
Ah, Sarah Paulson's dialogue.  It's gross.  It's simply gross; in nearly every definition of the word:

Yes.  Apparently, anything does go, when it comes to dinero...
Also in this episode, someone got acid thrown into their face, which is told in flashback.  When the tellers of and listener to, of this tale, wrapped up the conversation, their reactions to it seemed to indicate that this was an occurence so common it should elicit not even so much as a raised eyebrow.  I mean, if someone...anyone...told you that a woman they knew had thrown acid into the face and eyes of her husband in a public restaurant, wouldn't you have at least some kind of conversational indicator of how you felt about it?

11/13/25
So, I've been in NYC for the last three days (more on that forthcoming, as: THE CITY WAS TRYING TO KILL ME!).  As a result, I've lost my train of thought a bit re: All's Fair.  And I don't want to invest further time into what I consider pure trash; and not in a good way.  You see there's TRASH TV (Dynasty, Desperate Housewives, Anything with Andy Cohen attached).  And I suppose GARBAGE TV (Think The Jerry Springer Show). And RUBBISH TV (Perhaps Dirty Jobs?  No, that was actually interesting.  How about Duck Dynasty?  Yeah, red-neck, nouveau riche family saga with scraggly beards.  That works.  Although, full disclosure: I would eat duck a la orange off of Jase Robertson's ass any day!

Or any of the Robertson boys, really, if we're being honest.  Oh, and their dad if he was still alive.  Oh, who the hell am I kidding, Uncle Phil too!*
​Okay, maybe not Uncle Phil; but those boys are HOT!

But I digress.
I would call All's Fair WASTE PRODUCT TV because it's pure product.  It's completely artificial.  Everything about it; even the character's names.  It is so completely cynical it's...gross.  It's the perfect word for this undertaking.  One of the character's is named "Carrington."  Now, obviously, that's a reference to Dynasty, the old Prime Time soap that in many ways sort of defined the 1980's.  So, All's Fair is attempting to posit itself as a sort of trashy night-time soap; one that needs it's mouth washed out with it--which is quite intentional.  It's clearly a mercenary ploy to gain eyeballs and generate "buzz" (whatever the 2025 equivalent of "buzz" is).  The absurd costuming is another throwback to Dynasty.  But here's the thing: the costumes on Dynasty created the look that overtook the 80's; All's Fair seems to be parodying this.  But it's about as subtle as a Carol Burnett sketch.  But Carol and friends knew what they were doing.  All's Fair seems to be trying to be camp and drama and satire and parody and gross-out and all things at once and it's not doing any of them well.  Particularly the foul-mouthed dialogue.  It's not clever.  It's bluntly stomach-turning.  Anyone can make up gross dialogue.  It's simple.  I'll do some now:

"Why don't you pull out your butt-plug Dina before the meeting? I have some Handi-Wipes in my purse and a can of Glade; oh and an old Tampax; but you won't be needing that you dried up old sluice..."
​
See?  So easy!  And so cheap.
And here's the other thing about Dynasty, which was campy btw; and mostly unintentionally:  Dynasty had characters.  Characters you cared about.  Characters that were developed over time so that you actually cared about what happened to them.  Alexis Carrington, for example. Famously played by Joan Collins.  She was introduced quite dramatically and then her story unfolded.  Her villainy grew from her character; her motivations; her development over time.  So by the time you got to her saying things like: "You're barren Krystle!" and having a brawl with Linda Evans, you cared.  It mattered.  All's Fair is just a bunch of actresses in silly outfits saying nasty things.  One character, a transexual woman (why not?) says something to the NFL player, like: "This is all transactional."  It seems she could be speaking not only for herself; but the entire undertaking.

But what is "camp," exactly?  Well, Susan Sontag's essay "Notes On Camp" from 1964 goes a long way towards explaining it.  Here's a link
monoskop.org/images/5/59/Sontag_Susan_1964_Notes_on_Camp.pdf

And that is a fantastic essay.  An essay that has achieved "Iconic" status.  And it's a great, interesting and fun read. It begs the question, which came first: "camp" or "Notes On Camp"?  Did she sort of invent camp by defining it?  Maybe. But you know; in many ways, I feel that "camp" can't be defined.  But I know it when I see it.  It's basically a combination of kitsch and mocking serious issues to find the humor in them, so that the seriousness doesn't overwhelm.  For me, a writer once accused of the "Most Egregious Abuse of Camp" in the 1999 L.A. theater scene; I feel and/or think that "camp" is a kind of exaggerated comedy that either comes about purposely (let's call that "Campiness") or by accident (we'll call that "Pure Camp").  Pure camp, I think, is when something is meant to be taken utterly seriously; like a drama, perhaps; but for some reason it goes wrong.  The acting is poor.  The sets are bad.  The dialogue is tin-eared.  The dramaturgy is melodramatic, for example.  And the serious intent is so undermined by the awful execution that it becomes comedic.  I think a perfect example of "Pure Camp" is the 1967 film version of Valley of the Dolls.  This movie was meant to be about the moral and ethical pitfalls of showbusiness, presented as "straight" drama.  But it is so overheated and overstylized it becomes a parody of itself.  Even the voice inflections of the narrator of the movie's trailer are pure camp:

Now intentional camp or Campiness is harder.  It's a difficult line to tread because if you don't go far enough it's boring and dumb.  But if you go too far, it's annoying and dumb.
SUCCESSFUL INTENTIONAL CAMP:

I think with any kind of CAMP the secret is actually caring about the characters involved.  I mean, I care about Al Pacino because he's Al Pacino; and I like him.  He's likeable.  But what if the character is kind of unlikeable?  Well, if there's enough development of the character and I'm invested; I'm still going to care.  For example, Dawn Davenport, the heroine of John Waters' Female Trouble, played by the late, great Divine.  She's pretty awful from start to finish...and yet...:

So yes, caring about the characters on some level is crucially important for CAMPINESS/PURE CAMP to work.  Which is why, I think, All's Fair doesn't work.  You don't care about any of them.  Even Glenn Close who should get by on just being Glenn Close.  But, ah, no.  Sorry Glenn.

My husband has something of a biting sense of humor.  He's wry and dry; you might even say sardonic.  One time, we were watching a movie.  It happened to feature Naomi Watts in what I suppose we could consider a comedic performance.  The movie was I Heart Huckabees from 2004.  I still don't know what that movie was supposed to have been about.  So, anyways, Tippi Hedren was in it; albeit briefly.  Some time after the viewing, we were discussing it and Joseph said: "When did Tippi Hedren forget how to act?"  
This phenomenon, wherein a usually reliable actor, who has turned in one brilliant performance after the next; for some reason delivers one that isn't so brilliant.  One that leaves you scratching your head.  This syndrome we have come to call: 

                                                               ACTNESIA


I'm afraid Glenn Close is having a bout of Actnesia on the sets of All's Fair.  Perhaps we could Go Fund a supply of smelling salts for her?  Now, you might also think that Ms. Watts is suffering from Actnesia as well; but I would give a definitive "No" on that score.  I think she knows exactly what she's doing and exactly how bad the proceedings are and she's just going with it.  Perhaps she has an overdue Huckabee's payment?  But more likely, she's just slumming.
And so, I'll play us out on a little more of our All's Fair spec script.  
I think that's fair.

*Oh, ah, Phil is the dad.  The uncle is Si.

CUT TO:
INT. PRIVATE JET CABIN -DAY
Dina is seated on a plush sofa.  Next to her is EMERALD GREENE, 40's AFRICAN-AMERICAN--
SIDENOTE:
When I was writing about a scene from All's Fair I had watched, I pointed out the race of the actress playing a character named "Milan."  This character is being essayed by one Ms. Teyana Taylor who I have not been aware of up until the viewing of this scene.  But my question is, both for myself and in general; why did I mention that she was Black when I didn't mention the races or ethnicities of any of the other actresses?  I'm not sure.  Conditioning?  Systemic racism?  Maybe.  Although, I do feel that if Kim Kardashian had been interacting in the scene with say, a Caucasian Scottish lady; I may very well have pointed out the Scottishness.  And I think we need to ask, in light of the would be racially inclusive casting of All's Fair, why there isn't an Asian woman on the staff of Grant, Ronson and Greene?

Emerald has been hijacked from the old law firm, with Dina's blessing, to be the new in-house investigator.  On the other side of a Noguci coffee table is seated Allura, with her matching Birkin bag at her feet, carefully included in the shot.  She is gluing a rhinestone back on to one of her fingernails as Emerald and Dina watch.
ALLURA
There!  I did it! All by myself at thirty thousand feet!
EMERALD
You go Grrrl!
DINA
So empowering! I think this calls for a celebratory toast!
She retrieves a bottle of Cristal champagne from under her seat and pops the cork. 
DINA
Oh, stewardess, could we get some glasses?
Liberty, swathed in a matching, monocramatic ensemble of satin pants suit, wool cape, opera gloves and plumed fedora enters the frame.
LIBERTY
Dina, you silly old boofhead--I'm not the flight attendant; it's me, Liberty!  Crikey, stone the crows!
ALL LAUGH
DINA
Oh, forgive me; but I thought this new corporate jet came with it's own crew.
ALLURA
Oh, well, a crew wasn't in the budget after we paid for the jet...
EMERALD
How much did you drop on this bad mama-jamma, by the way?
ALLURA
If you have to ask, we can't afford it...
DINA
This appears to be a customized Boeing 737.  If I'm not mistaken, they run about a hundred million.
LIBERTY
I got a deal.  Ninety-eight million.
DINA
My goodness!  Apparently your firm--oh, I mean our firm, since I've just signed on--is raking it in! I think this calls for a celebratory toast.
She pulls out another bottle of champagne.  The bottle is popped and glasses filled.
ALLURA
Oh, speaking of celebrating--let's toast to my tooter!
ALL
Here's to Allura's tooter!
Glasses are clinked, imbibements are imbibed.
DINA
​Ah...why are we toasting your tooter?

ALLURA
I got a Designer Vagina!
ALL
OMG, Do tell!  Whaaaaat!!!  Spill the tea, grrrrrl!  Say what now!??!  Etc. etc. et. al....
ALLURA
Well, you may recall in our last episode I fudged some forms to get my womb on my frozen embryos; but it turned out they had freezer burn--
DINA
Oh, Allura dear, that's so sad--
ALLURA
Yeah, whatevs.  They were just a plot device anyways.  So, I decided to just get rid of my useless lady parts altogether and get a Gucci Cucci!
She stands and drops trou and shows the other ladies her swimsuit area.  The camera is positioned behind Allura, so we can get a full frame shot of her glorious booty.
LIBERTY
Lord love a duck!  What am I looking at?
ALLURA
What they do is replace your va-jay-jay with a Gucci purse!  Isn't that great!??!  No muss, no fuss!
EMERALD
So your pussy was made in Italy?
ALLURA
Yeah.  And it has a removable lining for easy cleaning!
EMERALD
You go grrrrl!
DINA
Don't you think that's a little...oh, I don't know...extreme?
ALLURA
Extremely trending!
DINA
I rather like it.  I might look into that...
ALLURA
Oh, do you need a flashlight?
LIBERTY
I think she meant the procedure, Allura.  I quite like it too!
ALLURA
You can also go with the Hootie Vuitton or the Yves Saint Labia!
DINA
What a wonderful world we live in!  This calls for a celebratory toast!
She opens a nearby cabinet which contains a Melchisedech sized bottle of bubbs.

Glasses are filled and raised.
DINA
Here's to--
She's interrupted by a violent bout of turbulence.  
INSERT SHOTS: ALLURA AND EMERALDS BREASTS BOUNCING IN SLOW MOTION.
The turbulence subsides.
EMERALD
What the hell?  Did anybody vet this pilot?
ALLURA
What pilot?
LIBERTY
The person flying the plane...
ALLURA
There is no "person."  This is one of those self-flying planes.
DINA
Darling...are we on a drone?
ALLURA
No!  You just punch that button in the cockpit that says "Autopilot" and the plane does the rest.  Why would we waste good jewelry money on a pilot?  Fuck that shit.
EMERALD
Yeah.  Fuck that shit.
ALLURA
Fuck that shit.
LIBERTY
Oh, all right...fuck that shite.
DINA
FUCK  that shit.
ALL
Fuck that shit!
Another violent jostle of the plane.
DINA
Well, as much as I'm relishing spouting this glorious dialogue...I just have to ask...how do we land?
CLOSE ON EYES as all the women look from one to another.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. COCKPIT -DAY
CLOSE on the cockpit door as it flies open.  The women rush in.  REVERSE ANGLE revealing a large hole on the co-pilot's side.  A dead ostrich is crumpled in the seat. The women look around, surprisingly calm as the wind whips their hair.
LIBERTY
Lord love a duck!  I didn't think an ostrich could fly this high up...
ALL
Hmmmm....yeah,, I know, right...what the hell....wassup wid dat...this is a pain...my hair is getting mussed...
Suddenly, the ostrich sits up, SQUAWKS as though he can't take it anymore and leaps back out of the hole.
LIBERTY
We must be nearing Sydney where we have a high powered, all Grrrrl meeting with our latest filthy-rich-betrayed-by-her-shitheel-husband-because-all-men-are-evil-client.  Right on time!  Now where is that "auto-land" button?
The women look around disinterestedly for said button.  No luck.
DINA
So who's going to land the plane?
REVERSE ANGLE - COCKPIT WINDOW
We see Ayer's Rock (Uluru) looming on the horizon.  AND THE PLANE IS HEADED STRAIGHT FOR IT!!!

THE CAMERA CLOSES ON ALLURA'S FACE until it fills the frame.  She looks at her fingernails.  
ALLURA
(FLAT/EMOTIONLESS/DEVOID OF INFLECTION/VERGING ON DISINTEREST)  Oh my God.  There's nobody flying the plane.  The crew is dead. Help us.  My God...somebody help us...
ALLURA rummages in her Birkin, retrieves a lipstick and a compact and primps as the other women gaze out the window.
​FADE TO BLACK.

BE SURE TO TUNE IN NEXT WEEK!

Final thoughts...
First of all, I can't believe that Uncle Walt has put the Disney imprimatur on this "project."  But then again, I can.  I'm sad to say that I think that particular corporation has entirely lost it's moral compass; which begs the question: did it ever have one?
I also get the feeling that Dizzney axed Doctor Odyssey; probably because it was expensive to produce (it looked expensive) and opted for this instead from Murphy Manor.  I think that's a mistake.  Doctor Odyssey was at least fun.  It seemed to be developing a cult following (for all the right reasons).  I mean, at least the characters were likeable. Yeah, that's what I'm thinking.
Also...synchronicity moment.  Somehow Tippi Hedren got into the thread of this; along with the movie Marnie (a cult favorite of mine!).  And look who posed as Tippi in Marnie...you can't make this shit up...

And Naomi...could you please go back to doing cool shit like this?  Pretending to be Tippi Hedren!??!  Hey, how about a remake of Marnie?  Or a sequel?  I wrote one!!!  Read all about it!
medium.com/@cfreidy/my-date-with-tippi-be027cd4b1bc

Reidy out.
Ciao.

CFR   11/17/25

The following doodles are from circa 2003/2004.  Always had a feeling about this guy, and it was never good.  When he tired to make ICE raids TV programming, I was like, "Yeah, that tracks..."
So "for what it's worth" (and my God, I hate that phrase!  If it's not worth it, then don't say it...):

These were ideas for full scale paintings of the "doctor."  They are still just ideas; but I think the Flaming Dr. Phil is really kinda cool.  Now, as to what the green leaf signifies, I'm not sure.  But looking at it from twenty years on, I'm thinking:
Big Green Leaf...Fig Leaf...Adam and Eve...Original Sin...Tree of Knowledge...Expulsion from Eden...Serpent...Snakes...

Huh...this version even has what appears to be a Texas Beef Steer.
Yeah, that tracks.

CFR   11/2/25