Headlines, Three Years Hence

The following came to mind after Agent Orange toyed around with the idea of that elephant hunt trophy ban reversal. Let's just say it irritated me- to be fair, everything about that man irritates me. So I thought of the idea of what a newscast might be like after the Age of Darkness comes to an end. Here we have it. You might want to skip this if you're a fan of the man.

“It is February 8^th, 2021, and welcome to the evening news. I’m your CBS anchor, Drucilla Scott, and this is what’s making news at this hour. The stunning fall of the former first family of the United States continued today. Donald Trump Jr. and Eric Trump, long sought after being convicted in absentia of fraud, met a bad end today in Zimbabwe. The two brothers were avoiding legal authorities and engaged in one of their favourite pastimes, hunting big game, when they and their party of bodyguards and associates were attacked by a herd of angry elephants. Witnesses reported that the animals singled out the Trumps and particularly went to work on both, trampling them beneath their full weight. Authorities in Zimbabwe will take no action against the elephants, and have called for, and I quote, extra sized spatulas, end quote, to clean up the mess. We are still awaiting word on whether or not the bodies will be repatriated or simply dumped in a trash heap.

Other family members are in no position to claim them at this time. Ivanka Trump and her ex-husband Jared Kushner are both in prison after their convictions for fraud in the so called Covfefe Gambit affair that was the final nail in the coffin of former President Trump’s tenure. The former chief executive himself is doing time for the next forty years in prison for that same fraud, as well as treason in giving state secrets to his good friend Vladimir Putin. Trump, who has spent the last two years in a six by ten-foot cell, deprived of the ability to tweet, has been described by some as unhinged and deeply unhappy at the state of his hairline, demanding to be released and vowing revenge on a list of enemies.

Melania Trump has retreated to Europe with her son and has had little to say to anyone since the dying days of her husband’s presidency. Her infamous ‘let them eat waffles’ remark about angry Vietnam veterans has never been forgiven, and getting away from America while she could may have been the right course of action. Often forgotten younger daughter Tiffany Trump, who managed to stay out of criminal convictions by not being part of her father’s administration, shrugged when told of the deaths of her brothers, saying that ‘this is what happens when you need to compensate for your physical shortcomings by trophy hunting. And as a complete aside, I never really liked either of them.’

Former president Pence, who notably recently skipped the inauguration of his successor, and who reportedly had a meltdown on election night, went into a profanity laden rant when reporters caught up to him in Indianapolis this morning. Pence, who lost the 2020 election by the biggest margin in American history, looked five minutes away from a stroke as he screamed at reporters, cursing like a sailor and blowing a proverbial gasket before being whisked away by his Secret Service detail.

President Biden continues to get settled into his presidency, which has an informal theme of Restoring Sanity. After a stunning electoral night win which had him take every state but Mississippi, the new president has been busy restoring the dignity of the office after the turbulent Trump-Pence administration. Biden has a Democratic Congress to work with, while the former Republican party has fractured into six pieces and is caught up in infighting. He has steadfastly refused to consider pardoning the Trumps, stating that the Supreme Court has already ruled on the matter when President Pence attempted it. Instead he told reporters today he must respect the rule of law, which applies to all citizens, ‘especially the president.’ Biden finished his remarks in the press room at the White House, excusing himself to head off to the White House kitchen in search of a rocky road ice cream cone.

In other news, the ongoing conflict in the American heartland continues. The self-appointed General Miranda Lambert continues her feud with her ex-husband’s wife, the self-described Fabulous Supremacy, Gwen Stefani. Both sides in the years long conflict have their fans and followers, who continue to wage a low level state of warfare on each other. Authorities continue to try to intervene in the feud, arresting those on either side after fist fights and shoot outs. Members of Congress and state governors have asked the two singers to knock it off. Lambert has refused, and so has Stefani. Stefani’s husband Blake Shelton, the one-time sexiest man alive, spends his time avoiding the issue entirely.

Steve Bannon remains at large. The former Trump confidante and head of Breitbart was wanted for inciting violence after his part in trying to start a race war in the dying days of the Trump presidency. Last month he was confronted by a British secret agent with a Walther PPK and a dry sense of humor at his hollowed out volcano base of operations, and in the ensuing conflagration, Bannon was believed to be dead in an explosion. However, a video featuring Bannon’s head grafted onto a robot’s body was issued to the press. Bannon vowed revenge and swore that he’d finish building his death ray, if every Breitbart subscriber would just send him their bank code information.

The Oscars are coming up later this month, and people are still puzzled as to how explosion-prone director Michael Bay could have possibly garnered an Oscar nomination for his film Casablanca III: Rick Gets Lucky, which was panned by critics and despised by audiences. The vacant eyed director is remaining tight lipped, while Academy staffers are busy trying to determine if their nomination process somehow got hacked.

A long missing masterpiece work of art, The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee, done by Rembrandt and stolen in 1990 from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, was recovered by authorities today, with the thieves taken into custody in France after an intensive investigation. While Interpol authorities have not publicly identified the suspects, the Facebook page of the high wire acrobats the Wallendas has been taken down after the painting was reportedly displayed in the background of a family gathering on one of their numerous photos. None of the family are available for comment, fueling suspicions on the matter.

Disgraced former evangelist and former presidential candidate Pat Robertson died today at home, surrounded by family and minions. One of those minions, speaking anonymously, reported that Robertson looked horrified in his last minutes, as if, and I quote, ‘staring right into the face of hell’, end quote. Reached for comment via webcam, the Prince of Darkness stated that ‘I should have really taken him five years ago, but I was busy whispering into Kellyanne Conway’s ear about the Bowling Green Massacre.’

In science news, physicists at Cal Tech claim it is now possible to broadcast news into the past. This has delighted gambling addicts, who hope their past selves will be able to place sure fire bets knowing who will win a game. Experts hope it will give solace to those still living through the Trump presidency, otherwise known as the Age Of Darkness, that the time of suffering will eventually end. Other experts warn of the perils of interfering in the space-time continuum.

And in sporting news, the Toronto Maple Leafs have been officially eliminated from the NHL playoffs after losing the first fifty-eight games of the season. Fans in Toronto are taking it all in stride, claiming that next year will be the year their team finally brings the Stanley Cup home. Fans of every other team in the league are laughing at them.” 

Murder Can Be A Badly Timed Business

Mysterious Murder Under Investigation; Suspicions Fall On Millions

New York (AP) A dramatic murder investigation is underway in the heart of the Big Apple, after one of the city’s biggest landmarks became a crime scene. Times Square, the commercial intersection serving as ground zero for thousands of revellers on New Year’s Eve, is now closed off during a police crime scene investigation, after what police describe as a scene out of the introduction to the television show Blindspot, which featured Times Square becoming a crime scene because of the dumping of a live person.

The body of a lone man, shot in the chest 23 times, was dumped in the Square in the early hours of Friday morning, at some point between two thirty and two forty five. “We’ve been combing traffic cams,” NYPD spokesperson Callie Evers told reporters. “That time of night, the square’s not as busy as during the day, obviously, but no one saw how the body arrived. We can confirm however that the victim has been positively identified. Um, his name is... his name is Daylight Saving Time.”

An odd name, to say the least. Time legally changed his name four years ago from his previous name, Edgar Wallace Kazowski. The fifty four year old electrician, described by friends as “a social drinker” lost a bet on a Rangers hockey game and was legally obliged to change his name to whatever the winner chose. “I was the one who won the bet,” his cousin Harry Kazowski confirmed to reporters at his home on Staten Island, seeming distraught. “I mean, I’m a Devils fan, big time, and he was a Rangers fan. We made this crazy bet over one lousy game, and he lost. I knew how much he hated changing the clocks twice a year, so it seemed natural to make him change his name to Daylight Saving Time. We were always messin’ around and pulling jokes on each other, but come on, if I’d known his name mighta gotten him killed, I’d have never gone through with it.”

While police continue their investigation, experts have already weighed in on the case. Criminal psychologist Elizabeth Lamont mused on the specifics of the killing from her offices at Columbia University. “Shot in the chest twenty three times. That is significant. We lose an hour out of our twenty four hour day when we set our clocks back each year, which on a side note, is rather irritating. Hence twenty three bullets, twenty three hours. What I believe we’re looking at is someone with a particular hatred of daylight saving time. An obsessive hatred that runs so deep that they would kill someone by that name. I’m sure the police have already considered that, but if they want a consult, I’d love to help. Writing up a profile on this killer would give me enough material for my next book. I’m thinking of calling it Temporal Homicide: Sex And Death In The Big City. Isn’t that a great title?”

Columbia physics professor Albert Wentworth, known to his colleagues as Buzzkill, had his own take when reporters started to ask about Daylight Saving Time. “Look, I get it. It’s frustrating, it’s irritating, it’s outdated, it’s a nuisance having to change your clocks every few months. Back and forth. And it’s not like we ever gain back that one hour of lost sleep. We just spend a week in a daze as we go through our daily routine, thinking we’re off by an hour, which we are. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it but complain. Daylight Saving Time is here to stay...” Reporters interrupted him, telling him about the murder. He paused for a long moment. “What are you asking me for about a murder? Dammit, man, I’m a scientist, not a detective! Come back to me when you want my opinion on temporal theory or the bending of light.”

Millions of people might well be suspects. Daylight Saving Time is used in places across the world, with exceptions here and there, and there are always complaints and grumbles from every corner when it comes time to yet again lose that hour every year. “It might be easier to compile a list of everyone who didn’t have reason to hate Daylight Saving Time,” Larry King quipped. “I mean, I’d be on the other list, I can’t stand Daylight Saving Time, and I’m kind of retired.”

 One person is already in the clear, though simply because she is currently incarcerated in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, awaiting trial on multiple murder charges. Renowned mystery writer Jessica Fletcher, the infamous and prolific serial killer who stands accused of potentially thousands of murders over decades, spoke to this reporter by phone from the detention facility that currently serves as her residence. “Someone actually killed a person by that name? And dumped their body in Times Square? And nobody saw it? Sounds like the sort of thing I’d commit, I mean, that I’d write, if I wasn’t stuck in this cell. But I won’t be here long. I’ll get out. And when I do, I’ll get even with that insufferable Mountie who arrested me.”

The last word in the case belongs to the aforementioned Mountie. The world’s most fearsome lawman, RCMP Inspector Lars Ulrich, who arrested Fletcher for murder, has often been mistaken for another Lars Ulrich, who happens to play the drums for Metallica when not yelling at people to speak up. Ulrich the lawman was reached for comment by phone at his detachment in the Alberta foothills. Reassured by this reporter that he was fully aware that the inspector was not that Lars Ulrich, the Mountie confirmed that he was aware of the murder case in New York. “It’s a hell of a thing,” he said in that gritty, cranky way that has driven many an entertainment reporter to run for their lives. “Most people hate Daylight Saving Time. Narrowing down a suspect list might be next to impossible.” When asked what he thought of Daylight Saving Time, the Inspector replied, “To borrow a phrase from Tolkien... Daylight Saving Time was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be cast back into the fiery chasm from where it came.”

Revenge List Of A Narcissist

Okay, so before the election I wrote a post that shall go forever unpublished (Norma and a few other people have seen it), featuring Trump's epic temper tantrum when he lost. Obviously for some inexplicable reason, he didn't lose. After the election, well, let's just say I wrote a rant for myself, basically venting, which will also go unpublished. It contained a lot of curse words and would have ended up losing me at least a couple of readers.

I've written this lately though. It's Trump's revenge list. The first part of everyone he wants to get even with. Incidentally, writing in his voice still makes me nauseous. I'll try not to say I told you so when the time comes.

Okay, right? So I won, right? Won it fair and square and cheated like a bastard the whole time, right? Now it’s time to settle some scores, get even with a few people. Nothing too big. Just millions and millions of people. Losers, all of them. Losers! Big fat losers! So that’s what this is. This is my revenge list. The people I’m going to start gettin’ even with startin’ on day one of the Trump Presidency, which, by the way, is going to be the greatest, the most stupendous, the most amazing, the best ever presidency you ever saw, right? Lincoln? Washington? The Roosevelts? All losers compared to me. Because I’m the best, the greatest, the most stellar president ever. And I’ve got really big hands.

Where was I? Oh, right. My revenge list. And it’s gonna be great. All these people who for one reason or another ended up on this list? They’re gonna pay. They’re gonna pay big time. And this revenge list is gonna be the biggest and the best revenge list of all time. Richard Nixon has nothin’ on me!

By the way, it’s probably a good idea not to let anyone see this list. Part 1 of 483 716, in fact. It's a big list. Yuuuuuuuuuge!

So where do we begin? Well, in no particular order...

Crooked Hillary. Lock her up! Lock her up!

The Squirrel Faction

Obama and Michelle

Rosie O’Donnell. What a disgusting pig, let me tell you...

The Pope

Jon Stewart

Ellen De Generes

Zombie plot bunnies

Anyone around the world who ever thought it was a good idea to criticize my buddy Vladimir

Tim Russert. Sure, he’s dead, but I want that know it all no-nonsense punk punished anyway

Dogs and cats. Buncha fleabags, the lot of them

Alec Baldwin. Nobody mocks me and gets away with it.

Mexico. They’re bringing drugs, they’re bringin’ crime, they’re rapists...

All those women who dared to accuse me of gropin’ them. Hey, I can grope anyone I want! I’m President Donald Trump! Soon to be Exalted Grand Emperor Donald!

Megyn Kelly. Bleedin’ outta her whatever...

Van Jones

John Oliver

The Queen

The blacks

Stephen Colbert

Angela Merkel

China

Vampires

The Jedi

Larry Willmore

Luxembourg. They know the reason why.

CNN, NBC, the New York Times, and the whole lamestream media that refuses to bow down to everything I say and hail me as their lord and master. I’m really gonna get even with those losers, believe me folks. Matter of fact, when I get my way, I’m gonna just have Trump News, the Enquirer, and Breitbart as the only legal news outlets.

Those ex-wives of mine. Soon to be followed by the current one, just as quick as I can find another bimbo from eastern Europe to be the next trophy wife

Tree huggin’ environmentalists

Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair

The Bush family

Trevor Noah

The ACLU

Muslims

Bill Nye the Science Guy. That De Grasse Tyson guy too. We can’t have reasonable well informed experts tellin’ anyone the truth, after all.

Lyin’ Ted. I mean, seriously, folks, the man’s father practically killed JFK, I read it in the Enquirer, and that’s the only paper that matters to me, believe me, believe me...

Bill Maher

The Illuminati

Canada

The UN

PBS

Ivanka

Ferris Bueller. Just because. Smart aleck punk, who’s he think he is?

That therapist who once told me I’m a class A narcissistic sociopath with a terminal self love complex. Hey! I don’t need to jerk off! I’ve got people who’ll jerk me off on command!

That heavy metal drummer. Costs me thousands of votes and puts supporters of mine in jail after beatin’ them up, and he thinks he can get away with it?

While we’re at it, we’re gonna just change the way music’s heard. All Ted Nugent, all the time. Nothin’ else. If Ted’s good for me, he’s good for everyone. Everybody else can go **** themselves. There’s not gonna be any Beyonce serenadin’ the Obamas ever again.

Bruce Springsteen. Born in the U.S.A. my ass. He was born in Canada! He’s got worthless communist socialist maple syrup guzzlin’ tree hugger written all over him! I demand to see the birth certificate! Lock him up! Lock him up!

Every single person who ever mocked my great outstanding hair and my hands. My hair is real and my hands are yuuuuuuuuuuuuuge! Just as yuuuuuuuuuuuuuge as my Trump schlong!

My eighth grade teacher, Mr. Reading, who gave me detention for calling him an asshole. I’m really gonna get even with him, believe me, folks...

Grumpy Cat. Nobody outfrowns me!

Last Call For A Sleepy Candidate

Candidate Falls Asleep While Calling Halt To Campaign; Reporters Not Surprised

West Palm Beach (AP) Former neurosurgeon Ben Carson, a long time hopeful for the Republican party presidential nomination, announced the end of his candidacy in a speech recently, having had failed to gain traction in a process that has paid far too much attention to the deranged stupidity of a blowhard developer and not enough attention to the deranged stupidity of a sleepy neurosurgeon.

The candidate, often given to appear half asleep at meetings and fall into slumber during debates, has been known for some outlandish remarks throughout the campaign. He noted that Obamacare was the worst thing to happen to African Americans since slavery. He thought Jews could have prevented the Holocaust if they’d had guns. Carson stated that “there is no war on women. There may be a war on what’s inside of women, but there is no war on women in this country.” The doctor suggested that being gay is a choice because prison turns people gay.

He has compared homosexuality to pedophilia and bestiality, while suggesting that marriage equality was a Marxist plot. He even remarked on one occasion that there should be no such thing as a war crime. Carson has claimed the theory of evolution is influenced by the Devil, while the Big Bang is a mere fairy tale. His claims of being an angry young man are at odds with his current sleepy state. And his suggestions that crowds should charge gun toting lunatics is baffling. Not quite as baffling as his beliefs about ancient monuments, though, as Carson fervently believes that the Pyramids of Egypt were built by Joseph to store grain.

Carson was introduced by one of his campaign spokeswomen, after she inquired if anyone would like her resume. Carson walked out to the podium, nodded to the reporters, and closed his eyes. Thirty seconds went by, then a minute. Reporters were looking at each other, each wondering which of us should try to wake Carson up. Someone coughed loudly, and Carson’s eyes shot wide open. “Awake! I’m awake! Did I miss anything? I didn’t leave my watch in the patient’s head again, did I?”

Carson looked around, realizing he wasn’t in an operating room. “Oh, right. Well, thank you for coming. It has been a very long road that we have travelled. Not as long as Moses when he was leading the people through the desert and stopped to dig out the Grand Canyon.” Carson smiled in a dazed way, while reporters looked at each other in confusion- did he actually believe that?

Carson had his eyes closed again, his head slumping forward. His spokeswoman stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder. “Where was I? Oh, right, the announcement. I set out on this journey to the nomination expecting many things. I expected to win. I expected attention. Well, sometimes things don’t go your way. Sometimes a mouthy obnoxious self absorbed goon draws all the attention that might have gone your way.  We’re not always wise, you know, unlike King Solomon, when he spent time walking his dogs at the Roman Coliseum...” Carson trailed off, his eyes closing again. Reporters looked at each other again, rolling their eyes, sighing in dismay, placing bets on how many more stupid things Carson might say.

The former candidate opened his eyes when prodded by his spokeswoman. “I’m awake! I swear, I’m awake, Doctor Thomas! Didn’t fall aslee... wait, oh, right, I haven’t been a med student in decades. Okay, where was I? Right. You know, when it really comes down to it, maybe I was wrong when I said the Jews could have stopped the Holocaust if they’d been armed with a few guns. What they really needed were some rocket propelled grenades, flame throwers, a bunch of tanks, and some old fashioned straight out of the Book of Jeremiah nuclear bombs.” The doctor looked around, as if wondering why people were staring at him as though he were a train wreck in slow motion.

“Mr. Carson,” this reporter started.

“Doctor Carson!” the doctor insisted. “I spent ninety six hour long shifts in med school on duty with two hour breaks in between, you know, which means I more than earned it...” His eyes closed again, and his head slumped forward. He started muttering incomprehensible words in his sleep.

This reporter wondered if Carson had a brain tumour... or was still desperately trying to catch up on med school deprived sleep... or if he was just naturally stupid. “Okay, Doctor Carson,” this reporter prompted.

Carson opened his eyes again, looking startled before continuing to speak. “.... and that’s why I believe the Statue of Liberty is the petrified great granddaughter twenty times removed of Goliath of Gath.”

“Doctor Carson,” this reporter called. “Has it occurred to you that you might be in need of medical care?”

Carson didn’t hear the question, having had fallen asleep again. The spokeswoman tapped him on the shoulder, and Carson nodded, waking up. “Where was I? Oh, right, calling things off. You know, there are times in life when you have to know it’s time to call it a day. We all need a rest. Samson needed a rest when he built Machu Picchu, you know, and I’m not saying I’m Samson or anything... but he might have been my great-great-great granddaddy a few times removed.”

The former candidate had trailed off yet again, his eyes closed, and one could hear light snoring. One of the reporters whistled loudly. Carson opened his eyes again, once more looking startled. “I don’t know how that patient’s nervous system got scrambled, Doctor Thomas!” he yelled, seeming shaken up. And a moment later, as if once again realizing he wasn’t in an operating theatre, he stopped shaking. “Oh right, that was years ago. Forget I said anything. Anyway, what I’m here to say to you all today is very simple. I am hereby ending my campaign for the Republican nomination to be court jester... I’m sorry, I mean, to be President of the United States. I don’t mean to misspeak, you see... it’s just I’m still trying to catch up on four years worth of sleep that I missed in med school.”

Carson paused for a moment, closing his eyes, and fell asleep yet again. His spokeswoman came forward and smacked him on the back. “Still here! Didn’t fall asleep, Doctor Thomas! I have no idea what happened to the patient with the.... oh, right. Press conference. Not med school.” He shook his head, as if trying to banish the urge to sleep. “So what it all comes down to really is that I’m done. To my supporters and volunteers, I can only thank you. To everyone else, go **** yourselves.” There was a collective gasp in the room. Carson seemed stunned. “Wait, did I say that out loud, or was that something I was just thinking?”

The former candidate shrugged, and continued. “What I meant to say is, to the rest of the Republican voter field, I can’t endorse anyone else in the party. I mean, we can’t dig up Ronald Reagan and ask him to run again, can we? That violates the Constitution- of which I only care about the Second Amendment- and it violates the essence of existence. Besides, Zombie Reagan would probably sleep more than I do.”

Once more the candidate started to doze. His spokeswoman smacked him on the side of the head. He woke up again. “What I mean to say is... instead of me, vote for the one candidate who hasn’t screwed you over in any way possible yet. That’s right. Vote Putin.”

Flyer Spam: Douchebag Of The Year

We’ve gotten ourselves so used to internet spam turning up in our junk email, along with the toxic waste dump that are internet scammers. They are a bane to our existence in more ways than one, and we wish we could find a way to rid the earth of them forever. Every once in awhile they do things the old fashioned way.

A week ago yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I left home in the morning to run errands- namely to do my laundry. The walk out to the laundromat takes ten minutes through what is at any time of the day a quiet neighbourhood. Passing some of the hydro poles along the way, one might see notices for lost pets, a neighbourhood event, or flyers offering snow shovelling services. This particular day, however, on numerous poles along that street and others through my neighbourhood, there was an addition. I photographed three of them, and here they are.

The guy must have done this the night before. I walk these streets daily, after all, and I probably would have noticed had they been there the previous day. I shook my head when I saw the other, then the next. By the third poster, I was muttering a few choice words. Narcissistic douchebag came to mind.

Seriously, what kind of guy posts these? Advertising himself as a Valentine’s date, calling himself a “certified dream boat”. Humble and stacked? A guy who “smokes darts and breaks hearts”? Having photos of himself that can only be described as classic douchebag sleazeball poses? I mean, seriously, Case, covering your crotch with twenties? That’s a real dirtbag play on your part.

He’s trying to pass himself off as a real catch in these shots. No doubt all those twenties just represent his rent money for the month and after his little photo shoot they have to go right back in the bank lest his cheque bounce. No doubt the boat is a rental.

Sorry, Case, I hate to burst your bubble and all (actually, no I don’t, because dirtbags such as yourself don’t deserve any consideration or punches pulled), but no, you’re not a “certified dream boat”. Because only a self absorbed narcissistic twit would call himself that in the first place. Only someone so bloody well in love with themselves would even consider it.

What you are is a disgrace to my half of the species, a desperate for female attention troll who thinks that putting up however many flyers on hydro poles and under car windshield wipers right before Valentine’s Day, advertising himself as a great date, is a wonderful idea. What you are, O Inept One, is a basement dwelling misogynistic dog (and I’ve just insulted canines by saying that, because four legged dogs are far better beings than you) who thinks that women will just gravitate to you when they see these.

Not likely. They’re a lot more likely to run as far away from sleazeballs like you as fast as they can.

Seriously, man, if you’re going to go through with this sort of thing, why not post it online in the personals section of Craigslist? Maybe there you’ll get lucky.

Of course, you might also contract yourself a case of syphilis or herpes while you’re at it. In your case, that would be a good thing. A “certified dream boat” spending the rest of his life living down an STD would be hilarious, wouldn’t it? Well, for us, Case, not for you.

It’s not too hard to expect that Case didn’t end up being a Valentine’s date for anyone. Since he’s so in love with himself, that’s as much romantic attention as he got. I imagine Case would be a good candidate as an early nominee for Douchebag of the Year. Certainly he takes the title locally speaking, and that’s saying something, considering this is a city full of politicians.

Clint Eastwood May Be A Yellow Bellied Coward

Finishing off my trio of reviews of the Back To The Future trilogy today (check out the previous two if you haven't) with the last one....

“Clara was one in a million. One in a billion. One in a googolplex!” ~ Doc Brown

“I had this terrible dream. Dreamed I was...dreamed I was in a Western. And I was being chased by all these Indians. And a bear.” ~ Marty McFly

“Listen up, Eastwood! I intend to shoot somebody today and I’d prefer it to be you. But if you’re just too damn yellow, I guess it’ll just have to be your blacksmith friend.” ~ Buford Tannen

"Everybody, everywhere, will say Clint Eastwood is the biggest yellow belly in the West." ~ Old Timer

“The only party I’ll be smilin’ at is the one that sees you at the end of a rope.” ~ Marshall Strickland

“I don’t dance very well  when my partner has a gun in his hand.” ~ Clara Clayton

“I’m sorry, Doc. It’s all my fault you’re stuck back there. I should have never let Biff get to me.” ~ Marty McFly 

“Well, there are plenty worse places to be than the Old West. I could’ve ended up in the Dark Ages. They probably would have burned me at the stake as a heretic or something.” ~ Doc Brown

Director Robert Zemeckis brought the Back To The Future trilogy to a conclusion with 1990’s Back To The Future Part Three, blending the science fiction and comedy of the previous films with a healthy dose of Western. Zemeckis and Bob Gale’s story, transferred into a screenplay by Gale, pays off in numerous ways and makes nods both to where the films have come from, as well as the genre of movie Westerns. And it brings back the leading actors, Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd, as well as a number of supporting actors, some of whom are in new roles this time out- characters who are nonetheless familiar to us already.

The film opens up with the ending of the previous film- in 1955, Marty McFly (Fox) finds the 1955 Doc Brown (Lloyd) seconds after he helped send Marty back to the future- and of course the sight of him shocks the Doc. Marty’s stranded in 1955, having had watched the 1985 Doc and the DeLorean vanish during a lightning storm, but there’s a way out- the Doc sent a message through time to Marty from the year 1885, where he ended up, urging his friend to get the assistance of his 1955 counterpart to get back to his own time. In locating the hidden DeLorean, Marty and Doc make a stunning discovery- the grave of Emmett Brown, killed in 1885 by Buford “Mad Dog” Tannen (Thomas F. Wilson), the great-grandfather of franchise irritant Biff Tannen.

Marty decides to travel back seventy years and save his friend. He takes the DeLorean back through time and ends up in the Hill Valley of 1885, a western settlement with Indians in the countryside and wild animals. He first meets his own Irish born great-great-grandparents, Seamus and Maggie McFly (Fox and Lea Thompson), and has a run in with Tannen and his gang. The intervention of Doc, who’s established himself in town as a blacksmith, saves Marty from getting hanged. The two friends intend to leave 1885, but fate throws them for a curve when they save a schoolteacher, Clara Clayton (Mary Steenburgen), and Doc falls for her.

The kernel for this film starts with the original film, in which Zemeckis asked Fox what time period he would want to visit- Fox mentioned the Old West, and Zemeckis and Gale held onto the idea until they started crafting the story for the second and third films. There’s a bit of set-up in the second film pointing the way, and with this, the two continued to tell a story blending together the science fiction and comedy of the earlier films, while infusing a rich Western sensibility seamlessly. The story moves along briskly, and retains its sense of humour while still playing on characterization- Marty and Doc are both as we know them, while it seems stupidity and malice run deep in the Tannen clan.

The nods towards the Western genre include the almost obligatory views of Monument Valley, numerous character actors who’d played in countless Westerns, showdowns in the street, saloons, and Indians versus the cavalry. Filming was done largely on location in California and Arizona, and the way Zemeckis films all of this definitely feels like a Western, grand sweeping landscapes and all. Crews were kept busy rebuilding Hill Valley from scratch as a set in the countryside- one can see hints of the future, such as the courthouse and its clock, in the dusty western setting. The place certainly feels like something that would have existed at the time- buildings look of that era, the way people speak and dress evoke the time (with the exception of the clothing Marty’s wearing when he first arrives in the period, which are completely wrong, but reflect the mid 1950s obsession with Westerns, sequined shirts and all- Marty looks like Roy Rogers). The constant references to Marty's chosen alias- Clint Eastwood- made me wonder what the actor thought of it all, particuarly the line about Eastwood going down in history as the biggest coward in the West, but it turns out Eastwood gave his okay on it and got a kick out of the references. Even Alan Silvestri’s score, while maintaining the themes from the other films, brings in music that sounds distinctively like a Western.

The casting is ideal all around. Elizabeth Shue reprises her role once again as Marty’s girlfriend Jennifer, seen briefly at the end after her whirlwind time spent in 2015 in the second film. She gives the character a believable connection with Marty. James Tolkan returns once again as an ancestor of the principal from the first two films, this time playing Marshall Strickland, and the character’s just as much of a hard ass as his descendant (a grandson, one would think). Lea Thompson, who spent the first two films playing Marty’s mother, ends up playing his great-great grandmother Maggie (strangely, on his paternal side). Maggie McFly comes across as no-nonsense in character, and it’s curious watching her with Fox as he plays Seamus (quite often in the same space as Fox also playing Marty).

Thomas F. Wilson’s take on “Mad Dog” Tannen is actually my favourite of the different Tannens (in more than one time period) that the actor played through these films. If anything, he’s dumber than Biff (though not as dumb as Griff Tannen). Buford Tannen is a nasty, foul tempered lout, perpetually angry and drunk, just a despicable excuse for a human being (he reminds me of one or two people). Wilson plays to that in his performance, giving us an antagonist we find both dangerous (a drunkard with a gun is a bad thing) and repugnant.

Mary Steenburgen is a delight as Clara. The role, it seems, was written with her in mind, though she was initially reluctant to take it, until her children pressed her to take it. The character is a schoolteacher in distress when we first meet her, casting her presence into Doc’s life particularly in a big way, and Steenburgen plays her as a smart woman with imagination, scientific curiousity, and heart- as well as courage late in the film. The relationship that develops between Clara and Doc is sweet, and the two actors bring that to life in the way they portray the characters.

Lloyd finishes his three film performance as Doc Brown in just the right way- the same eccentric scientist that we’ve seen before, though there are some new nuances to the character. The 1955 Doc plays to the humour of the character- his shock at seeing Marty again seconds after he sent Marty into the future is priceless. The present day Doc (trapped in 1885) shows that he’s adapted well when we first find him in the Old West, showing a resourceful trait in the character. We also see old hints of Doc as a child- his love of classic science fiction books still stays with him. And we see a man who falls head over heels in an instant- one wonders how he reconciles that as a scientist. In his last run as the character, Lloyd seems to be having a whole lot of fun.

Fox completes his role as Marty, still finding himself as a fish out of water- he arrives in the Old West in a tumultuous way, and takes time getting used to the Old West. He doesn’t have to be the romantic lead of the film- the character still has a girlfriend back in his own time, after all. There’s the natural charm and the wisecracking traits of the character, and at the same time, we see other elements to the character. His tendency to dislike being thought of as scared plays itself out through the film- is he easily provoked or can he think his way to a solution? I like that Marty proves to be resourceful and does as much thinking as fighting in how he deals with Mad Dog Tannen- it shows character growth beyond that impulsive dislike of being called names. And I also like how he quickly makes the decision early on to go back in time and help the Doc- he has the opportunity to go back to his own time, but selflessly chooses to do the right thing.

Back To The Future Part Three nicely caps the trilogy in just the right way. The notion of taking things into the Old West was a good one, giving the audience sight gags and nods to the genre. It has heart, too, and moves along smoothly. The story gives us a particularly repulsive antagonist, and the sweetness of a romance for one of the leads. It’s a whole lot of fun, and as such, it works wonderfully as the final chapter of the adventures of Marty and Doc.