Dude's name still isn't spelled Jeryd, for pete's sake, but otherwise that was brilliant if by brilliant you mean it was like getting my hand caught in a garbage disposal for an hour.
Really hoping that next week Gerri will push Roman off the Edge observation deck at Hudson Yards.
And let's not forget that Connor really outConnored himself tonight. That was *Slovenian chef's kiss.*
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I must confess that I have zero idea how that error could get written into an article in the first place and zero idea how it could not get edited out.
I mean, my standard copyediting rule is: If it's a proper noun, look it up.
I find ice cream trucks that play The Entertainer absolutely traumatizing.
And I don’t mean the Olivier movie.
There's a lot—quite a lot—of Scott Joplin music I love, including the wonderful Treemonisha, but the merest hint of "The Entertainer" makes me want to tear off my own ears.
From 1973 through at least 1975, it was INESCAPABLE.
And unlike the Pachlebel Canon in D, which I've made friends with again after a multi-decade break, "The Entertainer" is still my sworn enemy.
Wait, wait, on top of everything else Richard Dreyfuss claims that the last white actor to play Othello was Laurence Olivier in 1965?
Um, no.
Also, he's a freaking loon. Now we know where his son gets it from.
Also, Sir Larry's Othello is pretty rank, the makeup entirely aside, so maybe that's not the exemplar you want to be touting under the heading of Tragically Lost Opportunities for White Men.
Speaking of makeup, here's Viv on the subject of Larry's Macbeth:
You hear Macbeth's first line, then Larry's makeup comes on, then Banquo comes on, then Larry comes on.
Happy Kate the Great's birthday, and I apologize for ever underestimating her as an actual acting actress (as opposed to merely a supernaturally magnetic comedienne and movie star).
Sure, why not, let's once again watch the greatest clip of all time (and be sure to do the hand thing sometime today, in tribute).
Though, no, I will not endorse that grisly medieval bauble so many of you dote on, a dreadful script that seems designed to induce her to imitate herself at great length, which she duly does.