After all, why wouldn’t any man (straight or gay) imitate Cary Grant’s walk up the stairs to save Ingrid Bergman at the end of Hitchcock’s “Notorious?”

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And why wouldn’t any honest woman try to talk and look like Barbara Stanwyck? 

I was at a pool party in the Hollywood Hills once where agressive supermodels were trying to seduce fake producers. That entire pack of semi-nude nymphs had less seductive power than the play of the anklet on Barbara Stanwyck left leg in Wilders’ “Double Indemnity.” 

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Watching these 40s movies has made me realize the real power of movie stars and their supercharged sexual energy. Those men and women really capitalized on consenting sadomasochistic aspect of the artist-audience relationship. And they did it without being perverse or even showing sex at all, but instead with class, elegance, and silence. 

The stars of the 40s seduce you, and you like it, because they make you feel comfortable. You believe they know what they are doing. 

Does this mean they were better lovers in real life?  Was, for instance, Clark Gable a better lover than Matt Damon? Was Barbara Stanwyck better in bed than, let’s say, Jessica Alba?

Absolutely.

(Unless, of course, Jessica Alba wants to prove me wrong.)

I know it is far-fetched and improvable, but I am convinced that they were better lovers than most of the celebrities today. 

The 40’s stars knew how to make love. They also knew how to fight, and this I can prove. 

Watch Laurence Olivier as King Henry V, calling his men to arms. Forget his forceful posture and piercing look; just close your eyes and listen to his voice. He sounds like thousands of exuberant angelic trumpets unleashing their powerful sound from the heights of heaven onto the depths of hell. His voice moves you from within; it makes you want to join the war. It makes you believe that one man can rally multitudes to their death just by intensity of character expressed through vibration of voice. Is it not mere acting, even great acting. There is something frighteningly real in Olivier’s voice. 

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Now, could Laurence Olivier rally troops in real life? Could he rally troops better than, let’s say, Brad Pitt or Colin Farrell? Yes, he could. He actually did. 

After William Wyler turned down directing “Henry V,” Laurence Olivier, who was serving in the Fleet Air Army, was released to star in and direct this war propaganda movie. Olivier was actually fighting in the real war as he was portraying a warrior in the movie. His force was real. This is why his call to arms was not merely good acting. It was a real call to arms, and it seriously moved me before I even knew about Olivier’s real-life service. 

The excuse that the introduction of color stripped movie stars of their charisma is also irrelevant in this case. “Henry V” is a color movie. In fact, it is made in the exquisite colors of medieval miniature paintings. It borrows colors and naïve perspectives from the medieval “Book of Seasons.” (A similar rendition of period paintings onto screen was later used by Stanley Kubrick in “Barry Lyndon.”) 

Color also did not diminish Nikolai Cherkasov’s intensity as Ivan the Terrible in Eisenstein’s two-part masterpiece. Black and white through most of the film, Eisenstein suddenly inserts a colored scene, which demonstrates the ferocity of the ruthless Russian Czar with more oomph and in a more “colorful” way. On the contrary, George Clooney is as believable in the overly crisp black and white “Good German” as Obama’s dethroned “green czar” Van Jones was in denying that he’s a 9/11 truther. 

Misuse of colors can wreck any movie, but it cannot take away what is truly there or add something that is not. What makes Olivier’s Henry V believable is the same dynamic that makes Jimmy Stewart’s moral courage so believable in “It’s a Wonderful Life.”  Jimmy Stewart was a distinguished war hero serving as a bomber pilot in WWII. 

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 It is the same connection to reality that makes one believe that Clark Gable could carry Scarlet O’Hara through the fire of Atlanta (filmed in Technicolor) because when his real wife Carol Lombard died in a plane crash on a USO tour, a devastated Clark Gable took up arms and joined the war in Europe. 

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Brad Pitt may kill many Nazis in Tarantino’s movie and its inevitable sequels and prequels. He can conquer Troy on a tax-friendly location in Romania or some other, currently, more capitalistically inclined state than that of California. But he could never convince me as a warrior. It is not even because he is not courageous by nature. I don’t know. He may be. But he was never tested in such ways and that shows on screen. 

Can he still play a convincing warrior without fighting in any real war? Maybe. 

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Will he be able to move us like Laurence Olivier? No way.

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Needless to say, acting is a craft and great actors can embody qualities without having the real-life experiences of what is being portrayed. Otherwise, how is one going to play an alien (unless, of course, one is Tom Cruise)? 

Good actors can play real-life characters more expressively than the characters depicted are in real life. And yet, there are certain qualities that one cannot embody unless one possesses them off-screen. These are qualities that can be imitated only poorly unless experienced fully. 

Those qualities are real courage, real intelligence, and the greatest of all, love (or its secular equivalent, sexiness). These are qualities that most of our stars lack today and the great actors of the 40s had in abundance.

“Basterds,” misspelled the way Brad Pitt’s moonshining Lt. Aldo Raine character carved it into his rifle, takes place in German-occupied France from 1941 to 1944.  Tarantino makes a point of specifying “Nazi-occupied France,” justifying to the film watcher the extreme measures needed to deal with this particular type of human evil.  That National Socialist German Workers’ Party membership never numbered more than about 20 percent of the adult German population is beside the point; the Nazi Party in the guise of Hitler (played by Martin Wuttke) controlled the Wehrmacht from the top.  

“Basterds” follows three characters.  ”Chapter 1″ introduces Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent) a young Frenchwoman whose dairy farmer family is wiped out in 1941 by the Germans and Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz), who directs the killing.  Landa is a member of the Sicherheitsdienst (SD), the intelligence service of the SS and the Nazi Party, who considers himself a detective asked by his government to find every last Jewish person in France.  In “Chapter 2″ we meet U.S. Army Lt. Aldo Raine. Raine’s crossed arrows insignia on his collar identifies him as a member of the First Special Service Force, a U.S.-Canadian commando force called the Devil’s Brigade.  Lt. Raine leads a small band of soldiers, all of whom happen to be Jewish, on a mission of retribution, mayhem and terror behind enemy lines, the goal: take 100 “Nazi scalps” each. 

While “Basterds” is pure fiction, it does trace historical actions depicted in “Bodyguard of Lies” by Anthony Cave Brown.  “Bodyguard” details the deadly cloak-and-dagger action surrounding the effort to return Allied forces to the Continent on D-Day.  The scene with Mike Myers’ as British spymaster General Ed Fenech and Rod Taylor as Churchill suggests Major General Sir Stewart Menzies, Britain’s WWII head of the Secret Intelligence Service, as the basis for Myers’ character.  “Bodyguard’s” riveting accounts, such as the German capture and interrogation of British agent Princess Noor Inayat Khan (she was killed in Dachau, her last words being “liberty”), echo parts of “Basterds” – reminding one that “Basterds” may not be real, but it’s true – which brings up an inconvenient truth for some enthusiasts of Mr. Tarantino’s latest work. 

The theme of “Basterds” is revenge.  But revenge in this case takes place in occupied France in 1944.  In this context, Lt. Raine and his encouragement of scalping and other torture methods, violate the Hague Conventions (the forerunner to the Geneva Conventions) to which both the U.S. and Germany agreed.  The Hague’s Article 23 specifically prohibited the “treacherous” killing of an enemy, or harming enemies who had surrendered, or “declar(ing) that no quarter will be given.”  Of course, Raine’s men, usually operating sans uniform, were in violation of The Hague’s Chapter I, The Qualifications of Belligerents, Article 1, reading in part, that proper belligerents must, “have a fixed distinctive emblem recognizable at a distance” and “conduct their operations in accordance with the laws and customs of war.”  Executing prisoners is, unfortunately, an unspoken reality of swift-moving commando forces operating behind enemy lines.  Beating enemy prisoners of war to death with a baseball bat while not wearing a uniform is an even more obvious violation of the law of war.  Under rules then in effect, if Raines’ men were captured while operating outside of these rules, they could be treated very harshly – even summarily executed. 

In 1949, the Geneva Conventions updated the Hague Conventions. The Third Geneva Convention, Part I, Article 4, parallels The Hague’s Article 23 in specifying the attributes of a legitimate prisoner of war who is deserving of protection by his captor.  It is this part of the law of war that the Bush Administration cited when justifying their treatment of men captured as part of the Global War on Terror (now called “overseas contingency operations”), i.e. al-Qaeda didn’t fight with “a fixed distinctive sign recognizable at a distance” or carry “arms openly” or conduct “their operations in accordance with the laws and customs of war” therefore they were “unlawful combatants.” 

It is interesting indeed to see those who applaud Tarantino’s latest, admittedly excellent work, revel in the unbridled revenge against Nazis who get what’s coming to them.  Many of whom, without batting an eye, view al-Qaeda killers as deserving of respect, protection, and the benefit of civilian law.  Since all that separates al-Qaeda from the Nazis is the means – industrial power, modern education, and an organized national base – one wonders why a certain amount of cognitive dissonance wouldn’t kick in after a liberal enjoyed screening “Basterds.” 

To the point, what would a liberal think of the scene where Lt. Raine interrogates a captured German sergeant, demanding the location of a German outpost and its supporting artillery?  As the German NCO refuses to talk, Raine orders one of his men to kill the prisoner with a baseball bat.  When the two remaining German prisoners see this, one runs in horror and is shot down, while the other is brought over and threatened with the same deadly treatment.  He talks, saving the lives of the American commandos.  For the prisoner’s troubles, Raines carves a swastika into his forehead.  By comparison, the waterboarding of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed during interrogation seems rather pedestrian. 

Were Lt. Aldo Raine unleashed in Waziristan today, he and his men (all from New York City to provide the needed element of justifiable revenge) would no doubt relish taking al-Qaeda and Taliban scalps.  Alas, were Tarantino to make this flick, it would end prematurely just as Osama bin Laden was about to be relieved of his wavy locks by Raine’s massive knife.  The unsatisfying closing sequence would have a shocked Raine arrested by FBI agents after the Basterds’ cover was blown by the New York Times.  The credits would roll on Raine’s trial by Attorney General Holder’s Department of Justice with bin Laden in protective custody as a witness to Raine’s heinous war crimes. 

I don’t see Tarantino making that film – it might not be real, but it’s too true for Hollywood.

It’s 1944 in Nazi-occupied France. Joseph Goebbels’ (Sylvester Groth) latest film triumph starring Germany’s latest hero, Fredrick Zoller (Daniel Brühl), is set to premiere for the top brass of the Third Reich – including the big cheese himself, Adolf Hitler – and their guests. Funnily enough, the premiere is to be held in a cinema owned by Shoshanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent), a Jewish refugee with her own obvious reasons for hating the Nazis. Naturally, she plans her revenge for the fateful night.

Meanwhile the Basterds, a crack group of Jewish-American soldiers under the leadership of Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), is undercover in France and “in the business of killing Nazis, and business is booming.” Those Nazis who manage to escape death are given meaningful souvenirs of their time with the Basterds. The paths of these two groups cross in a way that only Tarantino, master of gory coincidence, could imagine.

A good ol’ boy and Jews brutally mowing down Nazis. What’s not to like? It’s probably one of the few times you’ll see a redneck positively portrayed in Hollywood.

Don’t be fooled by the trailers that feature Pitt prominently. The film is an ensemble effort, with all of the key players turning in fine performances. Probably one of the best performances is by Christoph Waltz as the cold, evil, calculating Col. Hans Landa, whose unofficial nickname is the “Jew Hunter.” A true chameleon, he’s the master of charm one moment and a murderous bastard the next. No one – and I mean no one – can trust him. (I’ll never view an innocent glass of milk in the same way again.)

This is not your average World War II film. The heroes aren’t conventional “good guys,” but flawed human beings who don’t always come out on top. There are a number of “knots in the stomach” moments as you wait to see if someone will be exposed, and long conversations and monologues serve to heighten the tension. The sometimes choppy cinematography, ridiculously long close-ups, cheesy music and vigilante-style justice all contribute to the theme of a spaghetti Western set during World War II. It’s not all serious, however – there are a few laughs. There are also a few helpful voice-overs that give crucial background information, even though they are somewhat odd.

If you hate Quentin Tarantino’s films, you’ll probably hate this one. By the same token, if you love his films, this one’s for you. I remember being horrified by “Pulp Fiction,” but either I’ve become more jaded over time or the “violent with a purpose” theme works for me – or both. Think about it: Nazis getting a taste of their own vile medicine. It’s quite a satisfying scenario. And the unabashed pro-American stance is refreshing as well.

Just this week, the New York Times ran an article about the fact that A-list stars are failing to deliver big returns on their movies. But these days, Americans expect a lot for their entertainment dollar. It doesn’t matter how big the star is; if the movie’s crap, it’s going to bomb. No matter how big the name, it can’t save a rotten film. And with regard to “Basterds,” I found the premise intriguing enough to overcome my dislike of Brad Pitt and plunk down my $10.50. Oh, and keep an eye out for an almost-unrecognizable Mike Myers.

As to be expected in a Tarantino film, there is plenty of violence and gore, but not the slick kind that you’re used to seeing in the usual blockbuster. It’s raw and it’s very realistic – the woman next to me gasped out loud a number of times. If you have a weak stomach, think twice before going. And really, kids should not see this one. In fact, they were actually checking ID at the theater – which, by the way, was packed full.

To start with, Brad Pitt said that he was thinking of running for mayor of New Orleans, on an “Anti-religion, pro-legalization of marijuana and pro-gay marriage” platform. I know, I know… What a risky position to take in Tinseltown, right?

After Brads continued “anti-religion” commentary, Bill Maher decided to step up the game with his uniquely hateful brand of bigotry that’s made him oh so popular with 13-year-old atheists everywhere. In a display of “compassion,” Pitt went on to say, “Well I don’t think any Christians watch this show anyway.”

See what happened there…?  Without even realizing it, Brad Pitt’s showed us that his use of the word “religion” is really inter-changeable with “Christianity,” as is the case with most of Hollywood. The entertainment industry is never anti-Religion; it’s simply anti-Christian. This goes both hand-in-hand with Hollywood’s obsession with immorality, as well as their compulsion to take shots at society’s whipping boy while praising themselves for their “risky performances.”

Brad then went on to say, “I never wanted to step on anyone’s religion” (don’t worry, that doesn’t stop him from doing so immediately afterward), “Until I started to see it define policy.”

Ooooh okay Brad, I get it. You don’t mind people having a strong worldview… Until it begins to manifest itself through their actions… Unless of course their world-view is “pro-marijuana” such as your own as displayed by your subsequent trip down memory lane where you fondly recalled your joint-rolling escapades.

Hollywood Bottom-line: If someone’s “religion” is nothing more than moral relativism, it should absolutely determine policy. If it actually adheres to an established code of conduct/ethics, you better keep it to yourself you, jerk!

*Note*: Keep in mind that none of this applies to Islam. You see, in Hollywood, the most anti-gay, anti-women, anti-peace religion gets a free pass in the name of political correctness. Just keep this in mind if you’re trying to make sense of everything.

“I was raised in a religious household… It just didn’t work for me in the long run,” Brad went on to say. Heck, I guess it wouldn’t work for me either if I wanted to live a life of hedonistic bliss similar to our Hollywood counterparts. If I were living a life of booze, sex and cocaine-off-of-the-ladies-hipbones, the last thing I’d want is to have held myself accountable to a power greater than myself.

Hollywood, we get it. The Christian faith just doesn’t work for you “in the long run.” However, for a large percentage of this country (the same country that makes your movies millions of dollars), it does. So please, for all of our sakes, keep your “beliefs to yourself” and just “stop the hate.”

Can I get an “Amen”?

Bringing together his usual strengths as a director of intense performances from sterling casts, an amazing score pasted together from classic scores of past films, incredibly sharp and catchy dialogue and a warped time frame that that will throw viewers through a satisfying series of loops, Tarantino has easily made his best film since “Pulp Fiction.” Coming off a humiliating misfire with 2007’s “Death Proof,” which was half of the box-office disaster known as “Grindhouse,” Tarantino has admitted that he felt the need to double down on his strengths and prove that he was just as relevant and inventive as ever. 

With “Basterds,” a dream project of Tarantino’s for the past decade, he has accomplished all that and more.  The result is a (mostly) fast-paced, multi-layered and entertainingly violent film that has the audacity to completely reinvent the way WWII went down in flames for the Germans and get away with it. 

The film’s innovative structure tells the story in five distinct chapters, using the first three to establish the main characters in their own storylines. This serves all the better to make the fast action and double-crosses that make up the final two sections more emotionally involving and edge-of-your-seat exciting since by the time things really kick in, you’re fully invested in all the characters. 

“Basterds” opens with ace Nazi Col. Landa (in a star-making and likely Oscar-nominated performance by Austrian actor Christoph Waltz, in his American film debut) squaring off against a French farmer he suspects is harboring a Jewish family beneath his floorboards. The conversation between the two surpasses the classic discussion of hamburgers and foot rubs that Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta shared en route to a hit job in “Pulp Fiction,” for while its dialogue is perfectly etched and delivered, it also reveals layer after layer of the depravity in Landa’s soul and creates the tension of a ever-worsening life-and-death situation almost exclusively through the words expressed rather than overblown violence. 

The second chapter opens with the now-ubiquitous scene of Pitt’s Aldo Raine challenging a team of Jewish American soldiers to take down all the Nazis they can, and collect 100 Nazi scalps each, and brings the heroes to vibrant, darkly humorous life. The third chapter guides us into the subtly building tension of a young, secretly Jewish woman named Shosanna (Melanie Laurent) who escaped Col. Landa three years earlier and now operates a Parisian cinema. 

As she tries to fend off the attentions of a slimy yet handsome young Nazi war hero named Fredrick Zoller (Daniel Bruhl), Shosanna comes to realize that his request to show the premiere of a propagandistic war film about his exploits that he stars in will offer her the chance to have hundreds of Nazi leaders including Hitler himself seated together in the dark of her theater. And so it is that in the fourth and fifth chapters, Shosanna teams with Aldo Raine’s men to set up the perfect revenge and perhaps end the war itself.

“Inglourious Basterds” wildly re-imagines the way in which the Nazis were defeated in WWII, but its unhinged take on historic events still proves to be immensely entertaining and there are no blatant anti-American messages stuck into the film’s script as in many other modern war movies. Pitt and his men are unabashed heroes you want to root for. Every performer appears to be having a blast, both in their often over-the-top action scenes and in the extensive dialogue and planning scenes that put all the pieces of the plot puzzle into place. And one more good aspect to note is that Tarantino has learned to curb his worst impulses of graphic violence and excessive profanity to make a film that has some of both but in a more restrained level than his usual. 

The only fault to be found is that some of the dialogue scenes stretch the talking almost to the limit of attention spans, especially among viewers who were led to believe by the simplified, Pitt-centered commercials that the movie is composed of wall-to-wall Nazi-killing. Having to follow many of these scenes in subtitles might turn off some prospective viewers, especially those who might otherwise seek out repeated viewings of an ass-kicking flick, but for those who appreciate quality filmmaking to go with a rousing good time, “Inglourious Basterds” easily fills the bill.

So for the second time in about as many weeks, I’m hearing from Brad Pitt on religion. First, there was the absurd, “Eighty percent agnostic, twenty percent atheist” comment, and now he jokes that he’s running on the “no religion” platform in the New Orleans mayoral race. The leap from being atheist to being against religion fascinates me.

Why can’t you simply not believe in God? Surely atheism can exist without a hatred of religion. It’s particularly disturbing that the disdain atheistic non-religionistas have for religion is pretty much limited to Christianity – from my experience. I knew an atheist who was offended when someone at work played a CD by Christian rock band “Third Day.”

But I can sympathize to a degree, after all my son believes in this nut that dresses in a red outfit, is friendly with reindeer, and gives kids presents. Crazy, I know, but my kid runs around singing about this obese clown coming to town, or some nonsense — and IT JUST OFFENDS THE CRAP OUT OF ME!!!

Look, I get it. Religion can be intrusive. Christians of the right-wing variety block entrepreneurs from opening strip clubs and from selling beer on Sunday. They frown on dancing, and on standing-up sex, because somebody might think you’re dancing (I stole that joke from Lewis Grizzard, I know). Dana Carvey’s Church Lady character is funny because it rings true.

But none of this justifies the leap. Brad Pitt may run for mayor. And say the no religion thing isn’t a joke – it is a joke, but say it isn’t – what’s going to happen to charity in New Orleans? Pitt’s all about charity – he’s almost a Republican in that regard – but is he saying as Mayor he won’t work with the local churches? When atheist anti-religionistas complain about religious influence, they never point out the good things religious institutions do for society.

Similarly, many atheists, when pressed, use Doughboy logic to defend atheism. I even heard one, on evil talk radio, ask, “if there was a God, why did he let 9/11 happen?” And I’m not talking about a wacky caller, this was the guest, a spokesman for American Atheists, or some group like that. Why do they have groups? Atheists really conduse me, I gotta say. She went on to offer, “If there was a God, he’s got a lot to answer for!” So because there is evil in the world, there can’t be a God? To this particular atheist/secular humanist, and to about 75% of the ones I’ve talked to, the good in the world exists because of people.

I think my problem with atheists is the same problem they have with religion. Believe or don’t believe what you want to believe of not believe, but don’t impose it on everyone else. The fact that both believers and non-believers alike do this says more about people than it does about God. I suppose not all atheists want to convert the opiated masses; maybe it’s just the ones I talk to. Like the guy who, upon learning of my Christianity, implored me to read Christopher Hitchens’ “God is Not Great.” Turn that around, and I’m a Bible-thumper, y’know? Imposing my views. Nothing amuses me quite like Atheist Evangelism.

Brad Pitt gained much notoriety for his environmentally friendly housing project in New Orlean’s Katrina-ravaged Lower 9th Ward.  Recently, a budding grassroots movement has gained momentum to elect Pitt Mayor of the city.  Earlier today, Mr. Pitt sat down with TODAY’s Ann Curry and talked about the prospect of a mayoral run and what type of mayor he would be.  From an an article on the TODAY website:

“If chosen, would you run?” Curry asked in the prerecorded interview that ran Thursday.“Yeah,” Pitt said.

“Would you serve?”

“Yeah. I’m running on the gay marriage, no religion, legalization and taxation of marijuana platform,” he joked.

That comment drew a measured “OK” from Curry.

“I don’t have a chance,” Pitt predicted.

But what if he were elected. Would he take the job?

“Didn’t I just answer that?” he replied.

“No, you didn’t,” Curry persisted.

“I don’t have a chance,” he repeated.

“Because you’re not the guy?”

“That’s not what I do best,” he said, ending that line of questioning.

Pitt’s political advocacy makes him a bit harder to read than most Hollywood activists. Sure, he has Hollywood’s requisite “green” streak, but he seems to have an entrepeneureal spirit and has thus far steered clear of the dreaded “hypocrite” label.

Does this make him a viable Hollywood candidate?  Perhaps even a libertarian one?  Or would he be just another Hollywood lefty?

You’ve probably experienced the Basterds publicity blitz.  Brad Pitt looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Folks I know who have been around him say he really is a pleasant and laid-back guy, and these are hardly the characteristics of a beady-eyed killer.  Creepy Eli Roth, taking some time off from directing his degenerate torture movies, is just a leering clown – he looks like he should be squatting in the back of his Ford panel van offering Tootsie Rolls to passing tweens.  And B.J. Novak?  The guy is a hilarious writer and is really funny in The Office , but I’m not buying this cat as the scourge of the Third Reich.

In contrast, Lee Marvin’s tough guy legacy lives on despite the fact that his body rests with thousands of other heroes in Arlington National Cemetery. He earned that right when he was wounded fighting the Imperial Japanese Army in the Pacific as a Marine private. His Purple Heart is 100% USDA certified proof positive of his prime badassary. Who is the Hollywood tough guy of today who can dare step up to the Lee Marvin plate and take a swing?

Nobody.

Marvin got discharged from the Corps, came home and started doing crummy odd jobs to support himself – his willingness to work instead of freeloading off of others is itself an anachronism in today’s entitlement culture. He found acting and appeared in various supporting roles until he starred in a hit television series (M Squad) and moved on to bigger roles. He even won an Oscar for Cat Ballou.  Serving his country, working hard, honing his craft and winning the recognition of his peers – Lee Marvin’s career had a lot in common with that of fellow all-American badass Ernest Borgnine.   

How tough was the on-screen Marvin? He brawled with the Duke in Donovan’s Reef and stalked Chuck Bronson as a Mountie (!) in Death Hunt. His classic performance as the grizzled First Infantry Division squad leader in The Big Red One has inspired legions of American sergeants.

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Check him out in 1967’s Point Blank. As Walker, a single-minded human tsunami of violence, he smashes through the psychedelic Sixties’ Summer of Love with his .357 and mantra of “I want my money!” This flick works for me on several levels. As a soldier, I respect his character’s fearsome firepower choices; as an attorney, I find his character’s single-minded focus on getting paid inspiring.

Remade in 1999 as the tepid Payback, Point Blank was harder-core than any of the watered-down, focus-tested, suit-neutered, glorified filmstrips that limp out of the studios today and pretend to be edgy.  

For sheer cinematic awesomeness, his performance in The Dirty Dozen as Major Reisman, leader of the cutthroat band of condemned convicts on a mission to solve the Nazi overpopulation crisis, is never going to be matched. It’s actually unfair to even use it as a standard against which to measure subsequent action films. In the teachable moment regarding action movies that accompanies the release of The Inglorious Basterds, The Dirty Dozen would be Sgt. Crowley’s Full Moon beer while Little Quentin’s movie would be the President’s Bud Light.

Marvin was totally fearless, including when he should have been afraid. He did a terrifying musical, Paint Your Wagon, and even had something of a hit song – Wanderin’ Star. Sadly, that little ditty sounds like a duet between Tom Waits and a drunken leaf blower, but it did lead to Marvin being paid homage to by The Simpsons – another great honor he shares with Ernest Borgnine. 

In his personal life, his shacking up with his girlfriend led to a lawsuit that led to the creation of the legal concept of “palimony,” empowering a new generation of golddiggers. And politically, according to the always accurate Wikipedia, he was a liberal Democrat – hey, nobody’s perfect. But if you get shot fighting for this country, dude, for all I care you can vote for a transsexual Marxist cocker spaniel that buys into global warming.

Hollywood needs to look harder for its tough guys because the new ones just can’t cut it. All the fake blood and stylized mayhem in the world are no substitute for the hard edge of real life experience that WWII vets like Lee Marvin and Jimmy Stewart – I should say, Brigadier General James Stewart – brought to their roles.  Today, the critics’ favorite director sends boy toys, torture pornographers and comedians to battle the SS. Yawn.

If Tarantino really wanted to kill Nazis, he could just bore them to death with his endless, pseudo-academic dissertations on so-bad-they-are-just-plain-bad B-movies. Too bad Eisenhower didn’t have a videotape of QT sounding off at Cannes about his personal artistic vision to use to soften up Omaha Beach. But fortunately for us, he had men like Lee Marvin.

The comment is sure to cause a few ripples from the man who once played the son of a preacher man in the spiritual A River Runs Through It.  What’s more, Pitt advises there is no use thinking about God or a higher power — we’ll find out when we get there, he says.  Umm, get where Brad?  The Beverly Hills Hotel in the sky?  It never ceases to amaze to hear celebrities speak out about religion – or a lack thereof.  In a business where vainglory is king, perhaps it is not surprising many in Hollywood are said to lack religion.  Que Sera Sera — free country, right?  

Pitt’s charity work after Katrina has been widely applauded, but how does a soul become so adrift in the face of such good works? Through his Make It Right Foundation, he has undoubtedly spent many hours of hard work toiling over ways to rebuild New Orleans after hurricane Katrina.  Much of the work seems highly concentrated in green architecture, a luxury to most.  But hey, if he can make it affordable to those who desperately need a roof over their head, so be it (worth noting: he seeks stimulus funds to build these designer homes). And, in a funny twist, the name of the first neighborhood to receive the fruits of all this labor is an embodiment of Christianity itself… the “Holy Cross” section in the Lower Ninth Ward.

Pitt might look even closer around New Orleans, his “second home” and the place where he feels a deep connection to the people. The city is a melting pot of religion so profound and powerful, it would take a thousand Katrinas to eclipse. Perhaps he would be surprised at the ways residents in the Lower Ninth Ward have turned to religion and community churches as an unorthodox way of fighting crime in neighborhoods that struggle for survival. Perhaps he should visit an African-American congregation on Sunday morning and listen to the bustling choirs (if your soul is still unmoved, you need to check your pulse). Or, he could always find some rowdy Creoles or a few Voodoo Queens to really shake up his spirit.

If he’s still searching after all that, can’t he find a spark of spirituality in the innocent eyes of one of his six children — adopted or biological?  As a parent, the purity of mind, body and spirit of a child is often miraculous and can move the soul quite unexpectedly.  Pitt, and his wife Angelina Jolie, have traveled the world finding children — scooping them from war zones, disease and poverty — giving them opportunities in life they never would have dreamed possible. Still running on empty Brad?

Oh well, there’s always Deities-R-Us! Look, I don’t have an ax to grind with Brad Pitt — I enjoy many of his films — and I’ve just written a book singing praises of his extensive charitable work with Jolie.  My only point is this: it’s a curious case indeed when one can’t find a little spirituality in leading such a charitable life.

And let me make this perfectly clear, even if they do say Jehovah!

Sentence must be read before being carried out. And unlike Soraya M., the board members of the Asylum of Motion Picture Airheads and Stooges will deserve every rock that’s thrown their way. I also believe that, in light of events in Iran today, the following commentary will stand out in much starker prominence than it did when I first started reporting on them in early March, when Team Oscar first set off for the Unfriendly Skies of Islamist Iran.

The backstory. In late February, the decision by AMPAS (as defined above) to send the Nine Stooges to the fascist hostage-taking, women-stoning, gay-exterminating Islamic Republic of Iran (at that time, things may be changing) set me off hotter than a Kim Jong Il nuke. Five days after the gay rights infomercial Oscars, no less! My gay rights heroes.

Somebody give ‘em an Oscar! For what it’s worth nowadays. Sean Penn getting an Oscar for playing a gay rights hero with his sorry track record on the subject is like Yasser Arafat, Jimmy Carter and Al Gore getting Nobel Prizes. They just ain’t worth what they used to be these days.

But I digress. On With The Show Biz Trial.

For ten days and uncounted humiliating punkings in early March, Team Oscar was a national embarrassment and a disgrace to this country and people, and an affront to the innocent Iranians suffering under a yoke of oppression not seen since Hitler’s Third Reich. A yoke which they are desperately and bravely fighting and even dying to cast off even as we speak.

And now, despite all that transpired back then, and all that is happening now in Iran, AMPAS is looking to whitewash the whole affair as a Bob Hope and Bing Crosby Road trip! Not on my watch! Fat fucking chance! Can you imagine how Iranian gays felt, watching the same people who facilitated tearful speeches on “gay rights for everyone” socializing and galivanting around town with the very monsters who were hunting them down, torturing and killing them?

If that alone isn’t a stoning offense, then nothing is.

Some may consider my charges harsh, even unreasonably so. So be it. Brutal Injustice and rank hypocrisy bring out the Zarqawi in me. But I will present to you, Dear Hollywood non-Academy Readers and Fine Fellow Americans everywhere, the foul evidence at hand in toto.

When charges have been read, and sentence is to be passed, I will leave it to the rest of you stoners as to which direction your rocks should fly. But first, to put the matter into Supreme Court-like perspective, look at the precedent law upon which I base my charges and my case.

THE WORLD v. SOUTH AFRICA

In 1985, during the oppressive Apartheid era of South Africa’s all-white fascist regime, actors, artists, producers and many fine musicians like Little Stevie van Zandt and The Boss, Bruce Springsteen, united to make a statement against that racist government, which held Nelson Mandela behind bars unjustly for 29 years, and murdered noted anti-apartheid activist Steven Biko while in police custody. That murder was memorialized in the Peter Gabriel song of the same name.

In conjunction with worldwide sanctions and divestment of business from South Africa at the time, the musical statement made by that group of most talented artists, better know as Artists United Against Apartheid, was immortalized in the song Sun City, which became a smash hit worldwide. We all know the rest of the story. The white South African government eventually folded, and Nelson Mandela was freed and then elected to the presidency.

What were South Africa’s crimes besides just Mandela’s imprisonment and Biko’s murder? Officially enforced racial segregation and subjugation, violent repression and the banning of opposition political parties. Certainly more than enough justification for international outrage, and both official and unofficial sanctions.

Yet compared to the current theocratic Hitlerite thugocracy running the Islamic Republic of Iran, which the world is also widely sanctioning today, South Africa’s Apartheid government was operating an island paradise fit for Chinese Uighurs. In Iran, political empowerment is nonexistent, and has been since the 1979 Islamic revolution.

All the power is in the hands of Supreme Leader Ali Khamanei and the Mad Mullah Guardian Council. Reform was impossible. Any measure passed by Iran’s Parliament, the Majlis, deemed ‘un-Islamic’ by the Mad Mullahs could be overturned on review. The Church is the State in Iran. Like a nationwide Westboro Baptist Church from Hell. Only worse. Much worse.

Examples. Children are routinely executed, gays are hunted down, tortured and brutally exterminated, and women and young girls are stoned and hanged, even for the crime of being raped. Until international outrage interceded, as happened vis-a-vis Roxana Saberi, seventeen-year-old Nazanin Fatehi was awaiting a death sentence for the crime of stabbing and killing one of the three God-fearing Islamists who attempted to rape her and her niece in a West Tehran park.

Here is a 27-minute documentary that re-enacts the attempted rape and the unbelievably misogynist injustice which followed. Had the world not screamed so loud in outrage, Nazanin would have suffered the same fate as that of twenty-year-old Delara Derabi, who was hanged by the Islamic Republic only six weeks ago. Iran has held mass hangings as recently as May 14th. And given the official death penalty announcement for Mousavi protesters, many more may follow depending on the outcome of current events.

This doesn’t even take into account the fact that many in Iran’s terror-sponsoring Islamist extremist leadership, including ‘moderate’ Hashemi Rafsanjani and recent presidential candidate Mohsen Rezai, former head of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard and former ‘diplomat’ to Argentina, are wanted by Interpol for their involvement in the worst terror attacks in Argentina’s history back in 1994. An Interpol warrant was issued for Rezai as recently as May 22nd.

Here is a piece I wrote back in early March, branding the regime as today’s Third Reich. Look at all the horrific and barbaric evidence of crimes against humanity committed both at home and abroad, and you tell me if I’m overstating the case. Keep also in mind that Hamas and Hezbollah terrorists are now in the streets of Iran, beating and killing the same Iranians who have supported and patronized the Islamist groups for decades.

Taking time out from killing innocent Jews to killing innocent Iranians. No surprise there, since the regime already kills its own people on an assembly line basis. Even bloggers. Given all this brutal evidence of the Iranian thugocracy’s bloody track record which spans the globe, I ask you, Dear Readers of jurisprudence and humble advocates of human rights for all, how was the Islamic Republic of Iran worthy of cultural diplomatic exchange, and South Africa not?

They should be forming Artists United Against Insanity to oppose Iran’s theocratic thugocracy, not flying over for tea, fingers cookies, and film seminars! Disgraceful!

Charges as follows. Bear with me. It’s a longer list than you think.

1. THE FIRST PUNKING OF FAR TOO MANY

Even though AMPAS was promised no politics would be involved in the visit, Team Hollywood was no sooner off the tarmac at Khomeini Airport in Tehran than they were totally punked by the best punks in the world, with harsh demands for apologies and submission by Iranian leaders over the films 300 and The Wrestler, or they wouldn’t get to meet their Iranian film buds. Curiously, Team Oscar was allowed to meet with their Iranian counterparts shortly thereafter. My question to the Academy is this: did they apologize or not?

Iif you recall, what so outraged Iranian government stooges over The Wrestler was Mickey Rourke breaking an Iranian flag and tossing it into the crowd. Deliciously ironic, considering the desecration of our flag is a national sport with the regime. There was also a declaration by Iran’s Foreign Ministry spokesman, Hassan Qashqavi, that thirty films currently in production in Hollywood were ‘anti-Iranian.’

Civilized governments don’t act like that. Yet I broke the punking story in America to Drudge and Nikki Finke because I knew something like that was going to happen. I was looking for it. Hell, the regime has been punking us for thirty years! Ahmadinejad had even said Hollywood was devoid of all culture and art. Something’s Gotta Give. I must admit, however, that maybe Ahmie was onto something with that comment. Never thought I’d agree with anything the Little Hitler said.

Academy politics makes strange bedfellows, I reckon.

That infamous Punking Heard ‘Round the World should have proved to all concerned that President Obama’s attempt at diplomacy through Team Oscar was a horrendous failure, as all other efforts since have been. Like the Khamenei-led Death to America rallies in response to Obama’s peace video. Yet Team Oscar suffered that humiliation and degradation only to suffer many more. And the rest of us, since Team Oscar represented us over there as a nation as well.

Some were even worse, if you can believe it. In short, if somebody wrote a script like this, no one would ever believe it. But I already read the book. Been reading it since 1979.

2. TEAM OSCAR’S STOOGES TRAIN IRAN’S PROPAGANDA STOOGES

Iran ‘film industry’ experts, many of whom Stooge Team Oscar no doubt gave seminars to, gave their own previous film seminars on Iran TV on the Ziono-Hollywoodist conspirators for making such anti-Iranian celluloid slanders as Harry Potter, Chicken Run and Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. And let’s not forget the Jew Disney’s cartoon conspiracy, Tom and Jerry. Also deliciously ironic, considering Iran exports child martyrdom cartoons across the Middle East, a business so thriving the BBC called it, in blackly comic Joker-like fashion, ‘booming.’

I can understand the cultural aspect Team Hollywood pursued. I even respect it. But in my opinion, given the circumstances, it was the equivalent of sending a cultural team to Hitler’s Berlin during the Holocaust. The real great Iranian filmmakers were all heel-ground. The ones who aren’t languish in Evin prison or are awaiting kangaroo court religious tribunals, like Iranian-American Esha Momeni, for the celluloid slander of interviewing Iranian women for a womens rights documentary for her master’s degree.

Filmmaker Tehmineh Milani was sentenced to death for her celluloid slander. Again, only international and, in Ms. Milani’s case, even domestic outrage saved her neck from the rope. Another filmmaker, the French-Iranian Mernousche Solouki, was thrown into Evin prison for the crime of stumbling across a mass grave.

Here’s Ms. Solouki’s recounting of the event. She still suffers nightmares from her experience in Evin. I read that, and other horror stories of the Gestapo-like Evin prison when Roxana Saberi was still there. Horrified me. I know her father must have known of that. He’s from Iran. He must know. They all do. I can’t even imagine how he felt with Roxana there. Again, the South Africa analogy.

Yet despite all those goings-on, Annette Bening took time out to tell the world how great women’s rights were in Iran. Which brings us straight to Team Oscar’s next great offense.

3. ROXANA SABERI AND THE SOUND OF SILENCE

Throughout Roxana’s unlawful detention, i.e. hostage status as a political pawn, and bogus conviction on trumped-up espionage charges, Team Oscar couldn’t have been more silent or unheard from than Roxana herself. Not one public message of support for either Roxana or the Academy during her unlawful detention in Evin, never mind anyone else in Hollywood except us right-wing extremists. In fact, the whole human rights-championing left-wing PRAVDA-like MSM and government pulled a complete disappearing act on Roxana right after Hillary demanded her release, like she was bad press for the Obamamessiah to be swept under the rug.

At the time, my linked article above generated twenty times more Google hits than the entire media coverage combined. It’s at over 7300 hits now, more than 100 times the number of hits generated on Google vis-a-vis coverage of Roxana in late March.  I’m still getting hits on it. I don’t think people can believe what they’re seeing still. But I digress. You get the point.

No public statement of support from Team Oscar for Roxana that I can find. Team Oscar member William Horberg’s Iran blog made no mention whatsoever of Roxana’s unlawful captivity, or any plea they might have made on Roxana’s behalf to Iranian authorities. I have to assume none was made. Perhaps the Academy could clear up that matter, too. Inquiring Minds Want To Know.

Knowing the King of Hearts-like unreality that resides in the La La Land of AMPAS HQ, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to hear any of them claim credit for Roxana’s release in the future, or even for the green revolution going on in Iran today. If they do, just remember Annette praising the regime’s great women’s rights record while Roxana was still in Evin. For starters.

That should clear things up.

What was really depressing to me throughout Roxana’s Hostage Crisis was how few in Hollywood spoke up on her behalf, when no one knew whether she would live or die. That will forever be a black stain on those who profess to be the greatest human rights champs in the world.

4. OF STOOGES FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC

Perhaps the most vocal filmmaker during Team Oscar’s prolonged humiliation in Iran was domestic thugocracy stooge and new Team Oscar BFF Alireza Davudnejad, who wrote an open letter to President Obama claiming that the only road to peace, freedom and justice in this world was for the President to destroy all of America’s nuclear weapons and give up its UN veto.

Mr. Davudnejad also requested a schedule as to when those world-shaking peace, freedom and justice-inducing landmarks would be carried out. This, from a regime that foments war, writes injustice into its penal codes, crushes freedom with an iron boot, and races to build nuclear weapons they swear to Allah and their own people they’ll use on Israel just as soon as they’re built.

Now THAT’S Comedy! Fortunately, the President didn’t fall for it. If he had, it would have been the Punking Of All Time. No punking for Mr. Ali-Duh, but a gold star on the forehead for effort. Mr. Davudnejad did, however, manage to give a closing backhand to his new BFF, Team Oscar:

“My last recommendation is not to follow your previous cultural policies and avoid your Hollywood friends from playing any tricks to dominate the cinemas of Iran. The United States once removed Iranian cinema from the Iranian life with the help of the former dictatorship; and sacrificed our industry with the import of foreign films.

The fallen cinema of Iran has once again regained its footing with the Islamic Revolution and has been fighting to survive for thirty years. We will not forgive the enemies of this cinema wherever they are. By the way, which is harder, to relinquish the veto right, or to forbear the domination of Iran’s cinema again? You have a hard path ahead. I pray for you. Only the right path has no deviation.”

How about neither, Ali-DUH? Over my freakin’ dead body! Go sit on a projector!

By the way, you got all that, Sid, Annette, and the rest of you Ziono-Hollywoodist conspirators? No more tricks! Or they won’t even let you apologize next time!

Q. What was the difference between Team Oscar and Ali-Duh in Iran?

A. He’s a domestic film industry stooge.

Yet another degrading episode Team Oscar let slide. I guess they’re more on the M side of S&M. Seeing as they represented all of us in a diplomatic capacity, so were we. How does it feel? Mr. Ganis also stood by for yet another punking by the Director of Iran’s House of Cinema, one of many he seemed unfazed by. Some people are just gluttons for punishment, I guess.

As a comic relief sidebar, the culture ministers who approved Team Oscar’s trip were summoned before an angry Majlis, Iran’s parliament, to explain who let the Great Satan into their pure Islamist paradise. But that’s how it goes. Nobody is safe in Punkedville. Even the punks! No word on if the ministers apologized, but it was rumored Mr. Ganis couldn’t find his ministerial escort anywhere.

Hell, they’re the liberals in Iran! Fuggeddaboutit!

5. THE BURQA BABES OF BABYLON

It would seem that, as Team Oscar was reeling from their hot-off-the-tarmac punking, the Mad Mullahs used the opportunity to wrap up the goils like mummies in burqas. They may call it a fashion statement or cultural sensitivity, but why didn’t they make a bold statement by wearing Western dress the whole time, instead of looking like every other oppressed woman in Iran?

6. THE GENOCIDE PRIDE PARADES, or BOY, CAN THESE GUYS THROW AN O-BASH!

On March 6th, the same day Iranian authorities promised to release Roxana Saberi ’soon’ after SOS Clinton’s demand the day before, news broke of the ICC warrant issued for Sudan’s genocidal leader, General Omar Bashir. It was an insult, an offense and a crime against humanity (Majlis Speaker Lari Alijani’s words, not mine) against the Iranian regime’s BFF O-Bash.

In response, the entire upper leadership of Iran’s thugocracy, along with their Islamist Gestapo Blackshirt stooges from Hamas and Hezbollah (the same ones beating and killing Mousavi protesters this week), took to the streets of Tehran AND Khartoum, the very streets where the genocide was and is being committed to this day, to throw genocide parades for human vampire and Dear Leader Bashir.

Now, what should you do if you know your host country is officially celebrating the most abominable crime known to man in the streets below your gilded cages? Do you a. speak up in outrage? Do you b. hightail it out of Dodge as fast as you can? My answers are a and b. Team Oscar’s appears to have been c. keep the tea and finger cookies coming, Ahmie! Now I don’t know the law in that situation, so maybe some fine Hollywood lawyer could tell me. Is that being silent accomplices?

See, I believe genocide parades are a crime in themselves, as though other nations were celebrating Hitler in the streets of Berlin and their own streets, had Hitler been charged by the League of Nations for genocide during the Holocaust. But that’s just me.

SUBPLOT: I just read that O-Bash flew to Zimbabwe on June 10th. He’s wanted for genocide. Why is he being allowed to fly all over Africa and the Middle East with impunity? What, we don’t have aircraft carriers out there that could send up a couple fighter jets to escort Blacula to justice?

7. AHMADINEJAD’S WILLIE HORTONS

As a bonus, highlighted by Ahmadinejad’s condemnation of Hollywood as devoid of culture and art, and followed up by the summoning of ministers to the Majlis over Team Oscar’s invite, both Ahmadinejad and Supreme Asswipe Khamenei used Team Oscar as their Willie Horton in the recent elections. You know. Who let the Great Satan in?

So rather than fostering a liberalization of Iran, as they no doubt naively thought, they instead served as a political tool with which hardliners could beat moderates over the head with. Considering the extreme Islamist nature of Iranian politics (as least last week), they made the situation for moderates even worse. The only thing they didn’t appear to do was make the political ads themselves. But they did train the propaganda stooges who no doubt made any, if any were made.

Damage done either way. Hooray For Hollywood!

THAT’S A WRAP!

I suppose I could rummage for even more egregious offenses, and glaring or willfully blind oversights. But I have far more than enough to convict. If you seek more for purely historical reference, feel free to check all my linked articles above. You’ll find ‘em. My problem was trying to choose which offenses and oversights to pick from.

WILLIAM HORBERG FOR THE DEFENSE

Currently posted at the Academy website is the following prosaic account by William Horberg of Team Oscar’s late-term abortion of a trip to Iran: The Road To Isfahan. Let’s hear what he has to say in Team Oscar’s defense before we stone them. That may seem predicative of the outcome, but remember, these offenses took place in Iran. Islamist extremist rules apply. Got it now?

Actually, just check the link above. We’ll stone ‘em now and rule ‘em guilty later. I mean, come on people. Given the evidence, they may as well have been jumping up and down and screaming “Jehovah!” Time to get stoned. And if you’ve misplaced yours, here’s another one.

IN CLOSING

Now, I fully condemn the shooting of Dr. Tiller by lone madman Scott Roeder in Kansas, as all right-minded human beings should. But I would fully endorse the shooting of whatever single-digit IQ Academy PR doctors were behind this afterbirth. They Shoot Horses’ Asses In Hollywood, Don’t They? If anyone at the Academy had any brains, they’d be stocking up on ammunition like a right-wing extremist Timothy McVeigh-like Montana militia for that very purpose right now!

QUALIFIER: Yes, I’m kidding. No need to call DHS just yet, thank you very much. Besides, you’re as likely to find a gun at Academy HQ as you are a hymen on Heidi Fleiss.

Despite the current brain-dead off-the cliff lemming leadership at AMPAS today, I love film. I love Hollywood I even love the Academy Of Motion Picture Arts And Sciences. Always have. Broke my heart to declare war on them. I even told them so. But all the above is Casus Belli. Gloves are off.

The blackest irony of all? I was in the middle of writing a loving screwball comedy tribute to Oscar when the news of their trip broke! By the way, I even warned them that if they tried giving all this Iran shite the Red Carpet treatment, I’d pull the rug out from under them. And I know and they know I’ve caused a lot of PR damage already over their Iran trip, both here at Big Hollywood and elsewhere.

My Iran opeds since the PUNK’D piece on Nikki Finke February 28th are pushing 30,000 hits at one blog alone. Can’t anyone in this business keep their mouth shut? How stupid can you be? Are they total masochistic gluttons for punishment? Oh yeah, I already covered that. Drop that last one off at the Department of Redundancy Department, LOL! In the meantime, I’ll do my best to have the Nine Stooges ejected off the Academy board and into the Pacific.

Now, I’ve had some very juicy tastes of Tinseltown. The Red Carpet A-List circuit in Beverly Hills and Los Angeles. I’m not a Guild Member, but my first screenplay got a number of finalist nods from some of the toughest Emmy-winning and Oscar-nominated contest judges in Hollywood. And I got an option with it. I got some chops. And I’ve only gotten better over the years through hard work, practice and learning. I know that because industry pros doing my coverage told me so.

But you know what? As much as I wanted to trash that story and never write another word in screenplay format again, I love that script. Put a lot of love and time into it. Think it’s my best work so far. So does my writing partner. In fact, I’m going to finish that script very shortly. And I’m going to finish it in the spirit in which I started: with love, tenderness and affection, even towards Academy members I wrote into the script with boundless love that I totally detest now.

How? I call it professional detachment. Like sniping Nazis as I lovingly listen to Mozart. Best of, worst of. I don’t let politics poison my scripts. I’ll leave the Lefties to do that. I’d rather not bomb at the box office. And I’ll have coverage done by someone I know and trust networked into the industry like a spiderweb. If I get a nearly impossible grade of RECOMMEND and it doesn’t move, I know my self-inflicted film industry Hiroshima is complete.

But you know what, people? I’ll take as many of them with me as I can, just like the wounded Mickey Rooney in Ambush Bay offering Japanese soldiers pineapples. He had plenty for everybody. Point being, I won’t stand for this crap and let it slide just to sell a script. This matter goes way beyond film to me. Look at it this way. AMPAS spends four hours championing gay rights at the last Oscars, then flies off to Iran to give that gay-butchering regime its gold-plated PR kiss, even praising women’s rights in the most violently misogynist regime on earth? STUFF IT!

God, how I wished I lived in the era of the Hollywood of an earlier day, when the top stars flocked to the service of their country, instead of the service of thuggish and violent dictators like Chavez, Castro and Ahmadinejad. By the way, Sean Penn holds the Trifecta of Shame on that one.

Let me be explicitly clear that I believe extreme left-wing morons like Sean Penn, Danny Glover and Harry “Bananas” Belafonte are the minority in Hollywood. Squeaky left-wing wheels get all the grease. I know a lot of great people in the industry personally. And I can’t praise highly enough Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Mia Farrow, Jim Carrey, Gary Sinise, Robert Davi and so many great USO supporters like Saddam million dollar bounty-offering Bruce Willis, Scarlett Johansson, Jack Black and Ben Stiller.

There are really too many to name. But you know who they are. As to the distinct minority, I will quote my former Obama-like governor and liberal tank commander Michael Dukakis for the first time in my life: “A fish rots from the head down.”

Tom Hanks dares to call gay marriage opponents un-American? Well, if President Obama, most Americans and 52% of Californians are un-American for not supporting gay marriage, what is Tom Hanks and the rest of the Motion Picture Asylum guilty of for signing off on a trip to a regime that hunts gays online, raids gay parties, tortures them horribly and then hangs them from crane wires to die agonizing deaths that can take up to an hour, as they did with two gay teenage boys?

There’s too much blanket idiocy in Hollywood. Megan Fox, jokingly telling the Transformers to take out all the white trash to save the earth, the irony totally lost on her. The Twitter crowd at afterellen.com. Like Adrianne Curry, who calls Prop 8 a human rights offense, but remains dead silent on the holocausts against LGBTs in Iran and Iraq. Why isn’t Dustin Lance Black screaming to the skies about this stuff? I couldn’t find any evidence of him opposing the AMPAS Iran trip on purely humanitarian grounds. WHY NOT?

No. I, a straight conservative Republican screenwriter, offended to my very core by the savagery of Shiite extremist gay death squads in Iran and Iraq, have to be the one screaming to the skies about LGBT terrorists who engage in atrocities even the Nazis can’t compare to. Like super-gluing gay men’s anuses shut and pumping them full of diarrhea cocktails so the gay killers, some on our tax dime, can catch a few pious laughs as their victims endure unimaginable agony before dying.

No. I am left with the dirty jobs and lonely tasks of networking REAL gay advocates like Michael Petrelis and the Gay Patriot blog over these inhuman gay horrorshows. I am the one who has to research and dispatch gruesome reports to sites like BestGayBlogs.com, and LGBT orgs all over the globe like LGBT Network EU. I am the one left to scrape around for signatures on petitions at Iranian Queer Railroad and Iraqi LGBT to save the lives of Iranian and Iraqi LGBTs, who live in fear of torture and unimaginable horrors the incredibly spoiled toddler-like Hollywood Leftie morons and unmarried gays of California will never know.

As a screenwriter, I now know what it feels like to work under an offensive and idiotic oligarchy that is totally brain-dead and out of touch with the realities of the world at large, and those whom they profess to lead. In that respect, though I do not agree with them, I now understand the passionate outrage Lefties felt during the reign of the Bushitler. Like Michael Moore’s and Al Franken’s bloviations during that dark time, I do not expect my heated rants to impact my Golden Bubble-insulated industry oligarchy one whit.

In fact, I fully expect it to to earn me black marks and disfavor, the full McCarthy treatment they so profess to detest, yet practice every goddamn day. Ron Silver, anyone? But like the aforementioned Twin Towers of Leftie-ism, I care not one whit what the ruling establishment thinks. My anger is righteous and justified. In fact, it could not be moreso. What’s happening in Iran and Iraq are de facto gay genocides. What cause could be more righteous than trying to stop those?

Screw sexual conduct! They’re innocent human beings targeted for extermination. They don’t deserve that barbaric treatment. No one does, except the blood-drinking Islamist Gestapo stooges that are doing it all! If that revolution in Iran goes through and the people win, somebody Tweet them to hang on to all the crane wires. They’re gonna need a lot. For the Hamas and Hezbollah Blackshirts, too.

If my harsh words mean my film career is dead, so be it. In fact, if I came to Hollywood for no other reason than to address the horrific hypocrisy of so-called gay and human rights champs who are anything but (some like Bening and Penn even extremely damaging to those they don the mantle of Human Rights Champs for), or to champion the cause of Iraqi and Iranian LGBTs unlike any cause I’ve ever championed based on purely humanistic outrage, then I will feel that my life will have had meaning.

If I have helped to save the life of only one Iraqi or Iranian gay, I have saved the world entire. I can go to my grave totally at peace with myself. If I must bury my screenwriting career ahead of me, this is a small price to pay. So many others, like those now on the streets of Iran fighting and dying for the freedoms that are as natural to us as breathing, or risk brutal torture and horrific death merely for sexual conduct or being raped, are paying far higher prices than we most likely ever will.

In closing, I am resigning from Big Hollywood. I came here on a mission nearly four months ago to bring attention to all I have highlighted above. All the in-between was a bonus. And I do have a comedy piece in the hopper, which is rare for me. Haven’t had much to laugh about lately. Which is why I want to return full-time to screenwriting as well. There’s enough tragedy on Planet Earth. If I can use my award-nominated humor to inspire laughter and comic relief, then that is my main mission now. The rest I leave to the card deck of fate.

If I return, it will be in the cause of those who cannot speak for themselves. There is no shortage of hacks and pundits flame-throwing politics these days, and there are far too many not flame-throwing at all on issues that should enrage them beyond measure. As I am enraged today. Certainly beyond politics.

I do not need anger management. Like Johnny Rotten sang with Public Image Limited, Anger is an Energy. Righteous anger is what freed South Africa. Righteous anger fills the streets of Tehran as we speak. Righteous anger is why we Americans no longer say to each other, “G’day, Mate! ‘Ow about a pint and some bangers and mash? Got some up in me lorry! God Bless the Queen!”

In closing, God Bless The Queen anyway. And God Bless America. I say that as an agnostic secularist, okay? It’s good luck! And may God look down a lot more kindly on the poor LGBTs in Iran and Iraq. Perhaps, if there is a God, and I’m hedging my bets here, I hope his hand is in events in Iran. Maybe with a youth-driven revolution, LGBTs, filmmakers. students, dissidents, bloggers, and raped women need not fear for their lives anymore, or offered the choice of castration or death if they wish to remain gay.

What? Did you think Ahmadinejad was kidding when he said there were no gays in Iran? He said it with the same certainty Hitler said there were no Jews in Germany. The discussion is moot. I really hope to God that changes, as Iran itself seems to be right now.

We do, however, have a most powerful hand in Iraq. The gay killings must stop. The gay death squads must be disbanded with an iron fist. Just like Al Qaeda. Or, to tell the truth, I don’t care if Al Qaeda takes the place over. I would feel the same way if I were in West Berlin in 1947 and the locals were still hunting down and killing Jews. Let the Red Army move in.

Uncle Joe, they’re all yours! Bin Laden, they’re all yours! Let them ALL share in the terror they love with a religious fervor! OR, they can wise up and join the human race. If not, screw ‘em. Let ‘em go back to Al Qaeda torture houses and eating bombs for breakfast. I may not be gay myself. No, really. But must one be Jewish to be totally repulsed by Auschwitz?

Good Luck and Good Night, all. Peace. I hope