Mrs. Doubtfire should be both doubted and fired.
Let’s face it, next to hybrid vehicles, anchor babies, and heirloom tomatoes, there’s nothing in America quite as corrosive as our so-called “Entertainment” Industry.
CULTURAL CORROSIVENESS PH SCALE
Don’t believe me? Even my editor, Gayle, has pressured me to make this book “entertaining”! But I don’t play that game.1*
This chapter isn’t going to transport you to a glamorous world of magic where wishes come true and even sociopaths like Jason Bateman can become the slam-dunking lupine beasts of their dreams.
No, this is a runaway train to Cold, Hard Realityville.
First stop, the Good Old Days, because while there’s nothing more anti-American than Hollywood today, there was nothing more All-American than Hollywood yesterday.
NEWS ON THE MARCH!
The Time: The 1930s.
The Scene: Hollywood!
Fresh-faced hopefuls from around the nation stream to Los Angeles with dreams of becoming the next “Steamboat Willie.”
Elsewhere: Nazis!
THAT’S RIGHT: There was once a “Golden Age” of Hollywood. It was so-called because the original studio heads were the children of gold prospectors who settled in California, struck it rich, and then converted to Judaism.
Back then, movies worked. Whether they were “talkies,” “soundies,” or the short-lived “loudies,” the films of the Golden Age had one thing in common that made them timeless classics: corporate hegemony. From the crank on the cameras to the films’ shipping canisters to the dusty hat on the wrinkled old usher with the air of defeat, the “Big Five” studios owned every dimension of moviemaking. They even owned the stars.
The first film editors were moyels.
Studios would pluck promising young actors from obscurity, and with a simple name change and an ironclad lifetime contract larded with morality clauses, turn them into Hollywood legends. Actors like Joan Crawford (born Shprintzel Anatevkawitz) and Cary Grant (born Balgok-Uth, Devourer of Souls) got more than just starring roles in the hit movies of their day. They got firm moral guidance. Women could not appear in public without their makeup. Homosexual men could not appear without their “beards.” Beardless heterosexual men could not appear without their “mustaches.”
Exhibit A
Here’s a handy chart of the Big Five studios. If you don’t find it handy, try holding the book in your other hand. (See “How to Read This Book.”)
As you can see, for a while, everything was dandy-dory in “The City of Angels.” But guess who shows up to crash the party and ruin it? You guessed it—The Supreme Court.
On May 4, 1948, the Supreme Court ruled that the Big Five studios had violated U.S. antitrust laws and set off a process that led to their dissolution. Ten days later, the State of Israel was proclaimed. Coincidence?
I believe so.
ONCE AGAIN: The old adage proved true: “The Supreme Court hates America.” Suddenly, it was no longer okay for studios to force their female leads to take diet pills or copulate with rams.
Ewe!
And talk about hypocrisy! In 1952, the Supreme Court made another “ruling.” This time, it was that movies were protected by the First Amendment! That’s right, just four years after they criminalized Hollywood’s free market, they upheld Hollywood’s free speech! Which is it, Supreme Court? Are “free” things good or bad?
I thought “rulings” were for kings!
Tragically, the 1952 First Amendment decision all but killed off the Production Code, the industry’s guidelines for keeping movies moral. It was like the Bill of Rights, only for movies, and instead of saying what you could do, it said what you couldn’t.
Cut Rolf some slack!
THE PRODUCTION CODE: SO LONG, FAREWELL, AUFWIEDERSEHEN, GOODBYE
The Motion Picture Production Code of 1930, often called the “Hays Code” because that’s what it forbade onscreen couples from rolling in, was a strict set of guidelines meant to ensure that motion pictures set a positive example. It was created to curb the corrupting influence of movies like The Bathing Kuties of ’28 and Gangbang Dames of ’29. The Code took effect on March 31, 1930, five months too late to prevent the Wall Street Crash, but early enough to keep The Sixties from happening until approximately 1964. The Hays Code is gone now, but a look back at some of its clauses shows how much we have lost.
When America fell victim to the British Invasion
By 1968, the Production Code was no more. But, sorry Supreme Court, its death wasn’t excessive, lustful, or perverted.
Fittingly, it went out without a “bang.”
* * *
FUN FACT: If we still had the Hays Code, they could never have made The DaVinci Code!
* * *
For your moral convenience, you can use this book as an improvised Production Code.
Don’t cut here
Just cut along the line and watch movies made after 1968 through the hole. Move the page around to avoid objectionable content. For instance, focus on the actors’ faces, especially during sex scenes.
Be careful not to mistake Russell Crowe’s ass for his face.
* * *
A WORD ON CENSORSHIP: The creative class says it’s unconstitutional, but I advocate censorship. It’s my First Amendment right to do so. They want you to believe censorship hinders creativity. Hogwash. Just the opposite! Take foul language. It’s easy for a lazy screenwriter to put the words “fuck you, cocksucker” into a character’s mouth, but the artist who translates that phrase for an airing on prime time television or a transcontinental flight is forced to come up with the much more interesting “flip you, cod bucket!” I ask you, which is more “creative”?
* * *
NEWS ON THE MARCH!
The Time: The 1950s. America loves Ike!
The scene: Washington! Cheese-fed senators from the Heartland lead a desperate fight to keep Communist sympathizers from writing “I Remember Mama.”
Luckily, the Golden Age of Hollywood was followed by an even Goldener Age, the Age of the Blacklist. Patriotic Americans secretly denounced Hollywood’s most dangerous Fellow Travellers to America’s House Un-American Activities Committee, led by American hero Joe McCarthy. America.
MY TURN: One of my greatest regrets is that I never got the opportunity to “name names.” And I would have named enough names to fill the Moscow phone book.
Luckily, I do have the opportunity to rename some names that were named all those years ago. So, here they are, a collection of blacklisted Hollywood comrades who were stopped from destroying our nation right in the nick of time. Most of the charges never added up to anything more than whispers and innuendo, but in Hollywood, whispers and innuendo are accepted as truth. If you don’t believe me, ask Richard Gere’s gerbil.
Tried without a jury
* * *
AMERICA-HATERS WHO WERE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE BY THE HUAC BLACKLIST
Burl Ives Seems “Sam the Snowman” was actually “Pietrov the Pinko.” Say, what color was Rudolph’s nose anyway? Exactly.3
E.Y. “Yip” Harburg Lyricist for The Wizard of Oz. Pay no attention to the man behind the Iron Curtain. Lollipop Guild? Socialism for suckers.
Bill Melendez He produced more than 75 “Peanuts” specials, but he forgot one: It’s Treason, Charlie Brown!
Kim Hunter It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Dr. Zira wasn’t only an evolutionist—she was a communist. Or am I being redundant?
Larry Adler Hard to believe that the grasping claws of the Red Menace could even reach this harmonica virtuoso. Even harder to believe there’s such a phrase as “harmonica virtuoso.”
David Robison When I remember that episodes of Bewitched were written by a Red, I shudder to think how close I came to naming my son Uncle Arthur.
Judy Holliday “Bells Are Ringing?” Yes, Ms. Holiday. It’s Joe McCarthy. He’d like to ask you a few questions. He wasn’t “Born Yesterday!”
Bill Scott Is it
really a surprise that the voice of Mr. Peabody was a Commie? Or is there some other political system that lets dogs keep humans as pets?
* * *
NEWS ON THE MARCH!
The Time: Who knows, dude?
The scene: Anywhere Far-out! Drugged-out hippies take over the movie business. It’s a bad trip, man!
Like any great era, the glorious days of the Blacklist had to end, but instead of spawning a new, Goldenest Age, Hollywood handed the keys to the kingdom to a generation of director-rebels fresh from Film School.
Once again, Higher Education took a perfectly decent slice of Americana, threw it to the ground and had its way. (Read Chapter 8–at your own risk!)
Your Scorseses, your Coppolas, and a few non-Italian directors turned Hollywood on its ear in the name of a gritty, “realistic” style of filmmaking.4 Movies, once fantastic dreamscapes where cowboys fought Indians and gay men kissed Elizabeth Taylor, became squalid nightmares where cowboys turned tricks and hillbillies kissed Ned Beatty.
These new Frank Crapras wanted to be “important.” To regular folks like you and me, “important” is remembering to tip before tax and not putting tin foil in the microwave. To Hollywood, “important” means picking an issue no one cares about and making it a movie. Well, guess what? The Golden Age of movies tackled their fair share of “difficult issues.” I can think of several memorable films that tackled the difficult issue of how to get a large number of women to fall into a pool like dominos.
Tip 10% (unless they cut your steak into tiny pieces for you)
Just because these days a few Hollywood elites decide some issue is “important” enough to make a movie out of, why do I have to suffer through Syriana? Hey George “Looney,” last time I checked it was called Syria.
Full disclosure: I have never checked.
Here’s a Fact of Life. Your best work is behind you.
What went wrong?
I say, if Hollywood absolutely must make a Message Movie, make one like Starship Troopers. This was the perfect political allegory, because I didn’t get it. People tell me it was about something, but all I know is that good-guy-army-guy shot bad-guy-monster-bugs with lasers in space. Four stars!
* * *
AUTHOR! AUTHOR! The Hollywood agenda is so insidious and corrosive that I considered not devoting a chapter to it, just to be safe. I was going to fold it into the chapter on the gays or the chapter on the gay communists. [Note to Ed.—if we cut “Hunting and Mounting the American Commusexual,” I walk.]
* * *
That’s right. Both sides are dark.
There is another dark side to Hollywood. It’s not just the shattered dreams, or the cheap porn, or the moderately priced porn. There’s something much worse.
HOLLYWOOD LIBERALS
That shining city that only cares about money has an underbelly that only cares about saving the world. It’s getting so America can’t ignore the tiniest humanitarian crisis without some big movie star going on Access Hollywood to bitch about it.
I guess the Motion Picture Academy mails out a pet cause with every Oscar nomination, because no sooner do we inform a star that we like him/her than they’re up on some soapbox.
But not a he/she!
You know who I’m talking about:
THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCA-LEFT
These four are constantly whining about injustice, chaining themselves to redwoods, bad-mouthing our president, and tormenting us with their portrayals of the perfect yet unattainable hometown girl.
Somewhere along the line, these A-list A-holes confused “box office” with “running for office.” Hey Celebrities! Just because 20 million people went to see your movie, that doesn’t mean 20 million people care about your opinions! Your job is to distract us from the horrors of the world, not to call our attention to them! We just want to be entertained. We want you to make us laugh, or cry, or worry if two cheerleaders from such different backgrounds can ever bridge their differences. That’s it.
They can!
And you know what? Cut it out with the fundraisers already. Who’s getting all that cash? Refugees? Rain forests? Harp seals? If a Harp seal needs money that badly, it should do what I do. I hold a little fundraiser every day. It’s called Going to Work. Without it, I’d be a charity case. Maybe they should give it a shot. Check the want ads—there’s plenty of them out there. And don’t give me “Harp seals can’t survive in an office habitat,” because that excuse doesn’t hold water anymore, thank you very much, Americans with Disabilities Act.
Air Bud? I blame Title IX
You Hollywood liberal elites need to realize that you wouldn’t be famous at all if it weren’t for Middle America. So stop trying to use your fascinating portrayals of Marie Antoinette to turn red states blue.
You have a choice. You don’t have to support America—it’s a free country. But if you’re not going to stand up for This Land of Ours, at least be consumed by some inner demons. Snort glue. Make a sex tape. Spiral out of control in a headline-grabbing way until you’re wandering toothless through Malibu backyards or telling Larry King that you speak in a musical birdlike tongue to the alien beings that visit you at night in the form of vibrating bands of color on your bedroom wall. This is very entertaining while also being a cautionary tale for our children.
I’m no fan!
So now that you know what’s wrong with Hollywood, let me ask you a Question. If someone screwed off the top of your head, scooped out your brain and filled your skull with garbage, would you fight back? You bet your screw-top head you would.
Get a childproof cap on that skull!
IT’S A CULTURE WAR—TIME TO STRIKE BACK!
Unlike Paul Newman, who seems to think that salad dressing is the cure-all for America’s ills, I’m a man of action. Here are a few simple steps you can take to end the stranglehold that the Entertainment industry has on our need for being entertained.
Apply Liberally
Boycott! Cut them off from your money. But just as importantly, cut their message off from your eyes. Immediately stop consuming all entertainment. This means TV, radio, movies, music, video games, magazines, newspapers, books, cell phone ringtones, the backs of cereal boxes, Bazooka Joe wrappers, riddles on Dixie Cups, fortune cookies, novelty t-shirts, and seafood restaurant placemats. Boredom will be your greatest enemy, so make your own fun. Time was a family could get a wonderful evening out of some sheet music and an egg timer. Bonus: You’ll be an empty-nester years earlier than your friends.
Switch to Christian entertainment! For every corrupt Hollywood influence there’s a life-affirming Christian equivalent. For instance, instead of rotting my mind with the mindless violence of a game like “Grand Theft Auto,” I play “Left Behind: Eternal Forces.” That way, I know every enemy I kill goes directly to Hell.
Write letters! Let the child-poisoners know that you’re keeping an eye on them. Write them e-mails on an hourly basis to tell them how offensive you find the movies you’re not seeing. It’s amazing how easy it is to make “I’m praying for you” sound like a threat.
I’m praying for you.
Go camping! Drop off the grid and get away from the corroding influences of the debased culture and return to nature, preferably to Idaho with a group of like-minded patriots, their child brides, and a cache of weapons. You never know when Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms is going to show up and try to make you watch Capote.
I am America (and so can You!) Page 13