BQ visitors: Best of all possible weekends to you all.
Trumpanzees still showing up at Trump rallies: You do know that recently he bragged that he could say anything at all to you mouth breathers and you'd believe him.....
With whatever active brain cells you still have left in operation, think about that for a moment......if he holds you all in such utter contempt as to make that statement...... what does that say about you?
Just askin'........
It struck us that this week seemed overloaded with ridiculous people who hit the public eye within the space of a few days.....
And not in a good way.
We now, with deep shame and barely concealed contempt, present this week's rogue gallery, a trashy triumvirate of people we wish we'd never heard of......
And hope to never again.
Shane Gillis's 3rd Saturday Night Live hosting...
We're beginning to suspect that this monumentally unfunny, talentless lump has some scandalous photos or tapes he's using to blackmail SNL bigwig Lorne Michaels.
What else could explain why this supposedly MAGA-friendly non-entity has now racked up three hosting gigs.....(and all of this happening after he'd already been kicked off the show as a potential new cast member.)
After starting the 10/10/26 show with a desperately toxic, dead-on-arrival monologue, Gillis continued the wreckage by dropping an F-bomb during a skit and then walking off during the show's 'good-nights' final segment......(presumably to get himself back to Morgan Wallen's 'God's Country')
He might be one of the worst stand-up comics we've ever endured......smirking and giggling to himself as he stumbles on, as if he believes it's enough that he thinks he's funny. Uh.....nope. Not even a little bit.
MAGA can have him. And memo to Lorne Michaels....how about finally firing him for good this time?
How could Saturday Night Live possibly lampoon her? When, to the astonishment and helpless laughter of millions, she introduced herself as a one-woman SNL skit.
Alfred Hitchcock's notorious obsession with blondes seems miniscule compared to Trump's. Thwarted from dating Ivanka, Trump has sent out a never ending assembly line of bubble-brained blondes as either Press Secretaries, Attorney Generals, or in Natalie's case, squeezy toy and diaper-changer.
You'll pardon us if we didn't chuckle at Katie's presentation, reading a prepared brief statement like a third-grader with a learning disability.
Think about what our country's become with a slew of brain-dead, bottom feeding slugs given important government positions......
This is to shake our heads in disgust and sadness.....not to laugh at anymore.
Anyone notice that among the Trump Clown Car of useless, laughable scumbags, the men (Hegseth, Patel, RFK Jr.) get to freely carry out their lunacy unimpeded, unchecked.....while the women serve as nothing more than throw-'em-under-the-bus road kill.
So we bid a fond "don't let the door bump your ass on the way out" farewell to rubber-lipped grifter Guilfoyle as she's now probably trying a Honey Please Go Fund Me to cover her credit card debt while praying daily for a Trump pardon before the Big Macs and fries take their toll on him.
(Don't forget to cast your vote this November!)
Digger (2026)
Oh my.....oh my. Where do we even begin here?
How do we even attempt to describe to a film destined to sweep the Golden Raspberry "Razzie" awards in every category......a film that makes Ed Wood Jr.'s "Plan 9 From Outer Space" look like "Lawrence of Arabia" and "Citizen Kane".
It's a story we've all seen play out through the history of movies......where the massive hubris and ego of cinema's most celebrated heavy hitters lead to a catastrophic abomination of a film, a barely watchable punishment from hell to sit through.
The mighty duo of super-dooper star Tom Cruise and writer director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu ("The Revenant", "Babel") decided to sound the alarm on climate change and global warming.
They thought the best way to go about it was through satirical black comedy, just as Kubrick had done in "Dr. Strangelove".
But they were oblivious in the inherent problem they faced......that neither of them has anything even remotely resembling a sense of humor.
Much like Steven Spielberg did in his reviled and maligned "1941", the dead serious Cruise/Inarittu combo thought that by having their entire cast of characters in a continuous state of frenzied hysteria, we'd convulse with helpless laughter.
And while we collectively choked on our guffaws, we'd take notice of the stern lessons the film proceeds to pound into our heads without mercy.
Climate change.......bad.
Corporate greed .....bad.
Government officials.....bad (and real stupid, too)
Keeping a severely suffering elderly cat alive, even as it's pissing and pooping in your bed.......bad.
(And let us take a moment to praise the film's one and only performance of nuance, subtlety and heart rending pathos.......the animatronic entity portraying Cruise's terminal feline, Maggie. We worried, fretted and almost teared up over The Passion of the Maggie.....far more than we ever did for Tom Cruise in all his 'Mission Impossible' and 'Top Gun' outings....)
Cruise, slathered like a mummy in prosthetics and heavy makeup, plays oil tycoon 'Digger' Rockwell. He's Jack D. Ripper, Foghorn Leghorn and Donald Trump all in one toxic package. And for 130 tortuous minutes, Cruise chews up the scenery like he's performing in the longest ever 'Saturday Night Live' skit.
As Cruise's Digger shamelessly cavorts in the hopes of an Oscar nomination, he sputters, fumes and rages as his Greenland drilling operation breaks off a city-sized chunk of ice. And it's drifting toward an extinction level collision with the European coastline.
Digger gets little or no help from his political/corporate partners-in-Earth-raping, headed by the equally apoplectic U.S. President (a bloviating, shriveled John Goodman).....who's also dying of rectal cancer, so cue the pain-in-my-ass jokes......
And right about here's where the film pulls out what it considers its take-your-breath-away OH MY GOD A BIG TWIST WE NEVER SAW COMING!!
We won't spill it, but it's not the first time we've laid eyes on this kind of twist. Inarittu probably swelled in pride at its deployment as a clever way to explain why Cruise and company carry on like they've all got their fingers stuck in a light socket.
But the twist doesn't in any way slow down the storyline, the characters' arcs or its grindingly slow path to an expected conclusion. Since from the beginning, "Digger" has already repeatedly hit you with its righteous anger like a perpetual jackhammer, you could feel free to doze off through entire sections of the film and not miss a thing.
Yeah, right. Sure it does, Tom. Sure it does Alejandro. Oh my, did we pause and think......we paused and thought about how we'd seen this twist in dozens of 'Twilight Zone' episodes and countless dystopian sci-fi movies. Big. Effin'. Deal.
What truly irks us, what really burns our buns about 'Digger' is the smug, self-absorbed, self-satisfaction that it pours all over itself like thick syrup on overcooked pancakes. We can't remember the last time we watched a film that so celebrated its own dopey cartoon-ishness as the best way to put its points across.
Like the methane gas escaping from its ice floes, 'Digger' arrives unfit for human consumption.
It digs its own grave with the efficiency of a nuclear powered steam shovel.
Rest in peace, Maggie......
Zero stars (0).
Written in Starlight by Sloane Brooks (2026)
Please Enjoy Your Stay by Tara Goedjen (2026)
Wonderful breaking news to jump start the weekend....for the umpteenth time, the Nobel Peace prize eludes the grasp of Trump's stubby
little fingers....Natalie, break out the extra absorbant XXL diapers.....
SPECIAL MESSAGE TO NEBRASKA TRUMPANZEES:
So you applauded as your worshipped Dear Leader 'joked' about Iran nuking Los Angeles and San Diego. Applauded and cheered....for all of us to see. For all the world to see.
Hilarious stuff, huh? The idea of millions upon millions of American citizens like yourselves instantly vaporized in a nuclear firestorm. What a giggle. Tickled your funnybone, did it?
All kidding aside now. Of all the MAGA deplorables, you instantly set a new record for bottomless stupidity and evil. You've reduced yourselves to human slime...pond scum....the worst of the worst of the worst. We only wish your names were identified.....for no other reason than if we ever randomly come across your obituary notice, we could pour ourselves a glass of champagne, knowing that the world was now a little bit of a better place with you gone.
Taste the Blood of Dracula (1970)
When it came to finding a U.S. studio distribution deal for their Christopher Lee Dracula outings, Hammer films got around to sampling almost all the studios as partners at one time or another. As the 70's commenced, their Drac found a home with Warner Bros., not that it really mattered whose logo popped up before the main titles. The Hammer gloss and sheen remained constant as always.
As with all Hammer gothic product, you could depend on "Taste the Blood" to look lushly photographed despite its cheap budget and with the ability to dive deep into that wondrous British pool of skilled, distinguished acting talent.
The only way in which this one somewhat disappoints.....its very stingy use of the legendary Lee, towering over and glowering at the cast with few words but with massive, withering contempt. He only pops up sporadically in this one, as if he's only stopping in for a few guest starring cameos.
But we're off to a great start here, with roly-poly comic actor Roy Kinnear as a shady salesman who stumbles upon Drac already impaled and dissolving. Seizing the day, Roy grabs the Count's ring and cloak, coated with fresh dried vamp blood. And since you can consider him like an 18th century E-Bay, you know that merch will soon be up for grabs......
We quickly move on to familiar character actors Geoffrey Keen, Peter Sallis and John Carson, playing three sanctimonious uppercrusts who secretly sneak out on their families to go whoring in plush London clubs. On the hunt for new perverse pleasures, they meet up with a depraved young rake (Ralph Bates) who takes them to Roy and encourages them to lay out the coin to buy Drac's dried blood.
Bates' satanic ritual, using the blood like instant coffee to resurrect Drac, repulses the three uppercrusts......they beat him senseless and flee just before Bates dissolves and turns into...ta-daaaa! You know who.
Our guy Chris shows up in all his imperiously evil glory......and goes on a biting and staking rampage, deploying the minion-ized mesmerized grown children of the uppercrusts...(Linda Hayden, Isla Blair, Martin Jarvis.) And you can bet your blood-stained fangs that not many of them stay alive before the final credits roll.
And not to worry that the film won't include a grand opera-ish demise for our all time favorite Drac-inator. He doesn't go quietly at the end of that good night....and rages, rages at the dawning of the light.....
Overall, 'Taste' plays out as a sturdy, typical but not very exceptional entry in the Hammer filmography. The pacing never hurries all that much, but there's James Bernard's always threatening score on board and sure enough, Hammer's ever present touchstone Michael Ripper shows up as a local detective with no idea of what's really going on.
For Hammer and Christopher Lee completists, it's a must. And for those who'd prefer their Halloween chills 'n thrills with some stylish class but no excessive gore, this fits the profile perfectly.
2& 3/4 stars (**3/4)
