Blowing Up History, Yet Again

Egotistical Director Plans To Mangle British History; Reporters Irritated

Los Angeles (AP) If Jane Austen were around today, she might start a book with the following: "It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that an egomaniac is in want of a mirror." It applied earlier this week for this reporter, along with a number of real reporters, who were summoned to the headquarters of Platinum Dunes, one of the production companies that serves as home to the world's most self absorbed director. No, not Quentin Tarantino, but he comes close (editor: good one, that guy is a jackass). To make things worse, there was a horde of entertainment reporters, that vapid lot of stupid twits who work for such poorly esteemed outlets like Entertainment Tonight.

Gathered together with that pack of idiots in an auditorium, the real reporters were wondering what dreck the egomaniac would be announcing this time. After all, there was a serious backlog of his projects still in the pipeline, and time was moving along. At length, a staff member came up to the podium and called out, "Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, please welcome the greatest gift to cinema in the history of forever... Michael! Bay!!!!!"

The entertainment reporter broke out into rapturous applause. The real reporters sighed and checked their watches or phones for the time. Bay came out on stage, grinning as usual like an idiot, his hair dishevelled as always, with a couple of day's worth of stubble, and dressed relatively casually. He pointed to some of the entertainment reporters cheering him, laughed, and made his way to the podium. A full length mirror had been set up beside it, where he winked at his reflection (editor: he really is in love with himself).

"Hello!" Bay called, still grinning. "Thanks for coming! But of course you had to come. Everyone loves knowing what I'm doing and what I'm filming and how I'm going to win the Oscars. You know, an idea came to mind for me a few months back. Everyone loved my film Pearl Harbor." (editor: no, they didn't.) "My attention to detail of a major historical event. So why not do the same, but go further back in time? Now the problem with this story would be that well, I can't really go with the barely dressed babes waxing cars angle that I like for my movies... because for the story I wanna tell, everyone was overdressed, and cars hadn't been invented yet."

Bay paused before continuing. "Everyone who knows me knows how much I love explosions. Pyrotechnics on film are a big thing for me. I'm happy doing it this way, because if I wasn't in film, I probably would have ended up a bomber, because that's how much I love explosions. At least this way it's legal. But I'm getting off track. Because the story I want to tell is one of an explosion that didn't actually happen- but put in a twist by having the whole second act of the film being a dream sequence of what would have happened if the explosion had actually happened. Which is why I'm doing prep work for a major bio-pic historical drama, Guy Fawkes."

Guy Fawkes, whose name is still used today in Britain as part of Bonfire Night. The Catholic conspirator who failed to set off an explosion that would have wiped out Parliament. The so called Gunpowder Plot. That Guy Fawkes, whose face today is used by random anarchists who don't see the irony and never learned their history. That Guy Fawkes (editor: he's got to be out of his mind. The British will never let him hear the end of this one).

"You have got to be joking," this reporter stated.

"Why do people say that?" Bay asked. "Ladies and gentlemen, for the central role of this film, playing Guy Fawkes, the central member of the conspiracy, I give you one of my favourite actors, Nicolas Cage!!!"

Cage stumbled out on stage, carrying a half empty bottle of scotch in one hand. "Hey there!" He walked over and shook hands with Bay. "It's gonna be a blast playing this guy Fawkes. Or Fox. Who really cares? The point is we're gonna blow a lot up before the film's done. It'll be epic. It'll be tragic. It'll get me an Oscar. Right, Mike?"

"Right! And me too!" Bay exclaimed. "Now this being a period drama, we can't really go with my stand by Aerosmith doing the main theme, but that's not going to stop us from doing something for the end credits with the band. Maybe with the word gunpowder in the title." (editor: is Aerosmith still even together? Are they still alive?)

"You do realize you're stomping on actual history, right?" another reporter asked.

"That's what they said about Pearl Harbor and my angle of a Japanese attack getting in the way of a love triangle," Bay answered. "But that's not the point. The point is Fawkes envisioning the plot succeeding, and us seeing it all through his eyes. The point is Fawkes getting to see Parliament blown up- explosions and all- but then to wake up and realize that he was just dreaming. I get it, I can't change history. Can't go back there and help Fawkes blow the place up. But the second best thing is to portray what might have happened on screen before re-entering history as it happened."

"You do realize that most historians don't tend to play the what if game, right?" this reporter asked. 

"Do I look like I care what historians think?" Bay countered. "Look, all that really matters here is giving the audience what they want. And what they want is explosions. And wrecking shit. And more explosions. Lots of explosions. I know this, because I know my audience. And they love the same things I love. And I really love explosions."

"And does it matter to you that you might alienate the British?" another reporter inquired.

Bay shrugged. "Not really, no."

The real reporters collectively sighed in dismay, but it was drowned out by the applause of the entertainment reporters. Bay and Cage smiled and waved, and headed off stage. This reporter shook his head and took his leave of the place- all the while wondering a few things. What would Guy Fawkes think about having his name dragged through the mud by a hack director (editor: good point)? And what would he think of being portrayed by Nicolas Cage. After all, Cage is a drunkard with expensive spending habits and a ridiculous hairline (editor: beyond ridiculous).

Whatever was going to come of all this, a film by Bay would only end ugly. And with too many explosions.

Coronation, Whiny Brats, And Kings

The coronation of King Charles III will happen this week. I will not be in attendance. Neither will Nutmeg... I mean, Meghan.

Anyway, here's an image blog for the occasion.

The Passing Of The Monarch

 Queen Elizabeth II

The world is a darker place with her passing.

This portrait of the Queen dates to 2012, and hangs at Rideau Hall in Ottawa.

The Fiasco At Ten Downing

Outgoing Prime Minister Continues To Make Fool Of Himself, Few Surprised

London (Reuters) The last few months have been eventful in British politics. Following a series of scandals, gaffes, resignations of ministers, and other acts of perennial stupidity from the Prime Minister, what was long overdue actually happened. Boris Johnson, the accident and gaffe prone moron who fumbled his way into 10 Downing Street after driving the country over the edge of the Brexit cliff, is resigning.

Not quite yet, anyway. Like a bad funky locker room gym bag sort of smell, he has a way of lingering too long. He's staying on until the British Tories can choose a new leader. As opposed to having the grace and tact to depart quietly with his dignity intact. That, of course, would imply he had the sense to do so- and of course he has no dignity left.

Johnson has been raked over the coals for multiple issues, including his mismanagement of the response to the pandemic, as well as his cheerleading of the Brexit movement and the fallout of that debacle. He's had a tendency going back all the way to his earliest days in political life of being accident prone, breaking bones in falls, and generally making himself look like a fool.

It's been rumoured that the Queen despises him. Her Majesty would never say, of course, but a call was made from the Palace to Johnson's Chief of Staff last year expressing that Johnson was persona non grata at any Royal property for any reason.

"She's too kind," Cambridge professor Cedric Appleton told this reporter. "The man is an oaf. How he got this far in life is a mystery. It would be within her power to have him imprisoned in the Tower of London for the rest of his life. Two hundred years back she could have had him sent to Australia with the rest of the convicts, far enough away that no one would have ever heard of him again. Too bad we don't live in that kind of world. Oh, to my Australian colleagues: sorry for the stereotyping."

Word has it from Ten Downing insiders that Johnson is not taking his decision to leave well. "There's crying, there's smashing of china, there's excessive drinking. Kind of like every day before the resignation, but ramped up by ten," a staff member speaking on anonymity told this reporter. "Oh, and there's tripping on the rugs. More so than usual. Maybe he's figuring that if he hurts himself and breaks his leg, he won't be carted out when the leadership count is made."

Boris die-hard fans aren't happy. "He led us to the promised land!" Mick Carter said outside a Sheffield pub. "No more European Union! We get to do what we want when we want. He said it was going to be paradise! Who'd have thought he'd end up being so wrong? I voted for Brexit three times and we got it and now I can't go to the south of France whenever I want and my job as a chimney sweep went up in smoke."

This reporter asked, "Are you aware you just admitted to voter fraud?"

"When?" Carter asked.

"When you said you voted for Brexit three times."

"I did?"

The previous prime minister, herself the very essence of ineptness, pushed out of the way after scandals and incompetence of her own, seemed amused by it all. "I told all of them what would happen if you let that dumbass waltz into Ten Downing," Theresa May remarked to reporters this week with a rather smug smile on her face. "This is the same chap who screwed up the country with Brexit, and you let him become Prime Minister?" She laughed. "I do say, there's a certain glee in being proved right."

Who might succeed Johnson- if only to be annihilated in the next election? The candidates have been whittled down to two: Foreign Secretary Liz Truss and former Chancellor Rishi Sunak. Neither of whom are that inspiring, and both of whom seem to know that disaster looms in the future for their party, even if they won't admit to it.

Meanwhile, the Labour Party, with new leadership, seeks to take advantage in the next election- whenever that may be.

As for Johnson himself, he met with reporters this week outside Ten Downing, looking as rumpled and befuddled as ever. "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, we have much left to do. I know I've said I'm leaving when the party chooses new leadership, and I will. I will. I promise. I just plan on dragging that process out as long as I can, so I can keep raiding the coffers for as long as I can."

"Do you realize what you just said?" one reporter asked.

"What?" Johnson replied.

"About you raiding the coffers for as long as you can," another reporter prompted.

"I said no such thing," Johnson countered. 

"We can play it back for you," this reporter suggested.

"You're all just trying to confuse me. Look, I was going to come out here and have a meaningful discussion with you, but it's clear that's not going to happen, so I'm going to go back in and play beer pong." He turned, looking back as he walked towards the front door. "And forget what I said about the beer po...." At this point he walked right into the door; a distinct crack was heard when his nose made contact with the door. He groaned, turned around, and blood was gushing out of his nose. "Um, a little help?"

Some members of the Tories wish they could go back in time. Back before Brexit, to warn their younger selves against it. To warn them against the curse of Boris. To advise them to not allow again what happened to a former foreign secretary. That political figure, taken for granted at the time and forced out through political skullduggery, has retained his respect and dignity. World leaders have always spoken highly of his candour, calmness, and grace under pressure. Many are now wishing he could be back, taking over as PM and leading the country back to a state of stability and dignity after so much foolishness. 

But that former foreign secretary has retired from political life and has now taken up a tenured post as a professor at Oxford, where he has become a popular instructor in world history. Oxford is where reporters caught up to him this week asking if he'd consider a return to politics. 

To which, Professor Beaker simply said, "Meep, meep meep meep meep!!!!"