Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #19

At the premiere of the newest talkie, All This and a Bag of Chips, everyone who was anyone in Hollywood showed up at Grubman’s Vietnamese Art Deco Movie Palace and Taqueria. Milling about in the crowd of artificially young and beautiful was the ravishing (according to her press release) Oscaretta Meyer, star of the recent hits Mildred Pierced and How Lonesome Was My Valley.

Fred, the Fashion Photographer: “You look stunning, Oscaretta! Can I get a picture?”

Oscaretta, the Supposed Actress: “Of course, Freddie dear. It’s only right that I share my treasures with the world. How can the little people be happy if I don’t give them joy?”

Hedda Flopper, the Movie Columnist: “Oscaretta, who did your hair? It’s divine.”

Oscaretta: “Thank you for asking, Hedda dear. I’m sure my millions of fans will want to know this. I hired a fabulous stylist from Paris, Henri de Kilowatt. I told him to make me look electric and I think he did an outstanding job!”

Just then, a bolt of lightning shot out of the otherwise clear sky and scored a direct hit on Oscaretta’s startling head apparatus. Within seconds she was reduced to nothing but ash and a few defiant sequins.

Hedda: “Well, I guess the interview is over.”

Suddenly, Oscaretta’s now-former publicist, Kellyanne ConJob, came rushing up from who knows where. (Well, we actually do know. She had been off flirting with a burly stagehand, because sometimes a woman has very specific needs. But this detail really does not contribute to our story, so we’ll officially leave her provenance murky.) Kellyanne addressed the gathered columnists and photographers. “I’d just like to state for the record that this tragic event had nothing to do with Oscaretta’s recent struggles with addiction and poor choices.”

The columnists and reporters just stared at her. Everyone in Hollywood had addictions and did stupid things. There was no story in that. Keep going.

Kellyanne did, improvising as she realized that if she did enough spin with this situation, she could win the affection of the next up-and-coming starlet with dark secrets, thus maintaining her own revenue stream. “And I should point out that if Oscaretta had not been here to sacrifice herself to the lightning bolt, then the orphanage across the street could have burned down. She did it for the children!”

Hedda, dubious: “That’s not an orphanage. That’s a gay bar.”

Kellyanne smiled arrogantly. “Well, you have your truth and I have my alternative facts. Let’s see which one of us gets the attention of the voters in rural America.”

Deep inside the darkness of the gay bar, which was still shuttered because the cool people in Hollywood don’t dance until well after midnight, Donald reached over and shut of the generator (made in China, just like his clothing line) that he had used to create the fake lightning bolt. The he whipped out his encrypted cell phone and hit speed dial #1. “Sergei? Mission accomplished.”

Sergei: “Who is this be talking? I know not the smell of your voice.”

Donald: “I did what Vladdy told me. He said I should create a distraction and undermine the election and then call you when it was done.”

Sergei: “But this distraction, it was stupid and of a child. People know how to count the voting and you empty of head thinking not. You still not know politics and now Vladimir not know you. You hang up and not call more.”

Donald: “But my Russian hotels. What will happen to them?”

Sergei: “They bye bye now. Like you.”

The line went dead.

Donald threw his burner phone on the floor and stomped on it, confirming that his maturity level had topped out at the age of three. (As if anyone in the world needed such confirmation.) Then he noticed Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham, standing at the bar of the gay bar, discreetly fondling one another in the love that dare not speak its name, meaning the love some Republicans have for dishonesty and diversion and the creation of fake lightning-bolts.

Donald: “What are you guys doing here? You know you’re not allowed to make moves unless I order you to do so.”

Mitch: “Well, we might need to talk about that.”

Lindsey: “Have you seen the breaking news tonight?”

Donald: “Of course not. I’m surrounded by minions who tell me what I want to hear. I don’t have time for reality.”

Mitch: “CNN just called Arizona for Biden. And while I’ll keep pretending that I support you, because I have no soul, things look a bit rough. The math is not there, old grasshopper.”

Lindsey: “You bye bye!”

Donald: “I’ll sue everybody!”

Mitch: “Oh, honey. That’s just tired and worn out by now. You might think your base loves you, but they’ll move on as soon as the next racist and shiny thing comes along. Trust me. I wouldn’t have survived 700 years in conservative politics if I didn’t know how to shift my morals to satisfy the whims of people who have the attention span of a gnat.”

 

Previously published, modified and extended for this post. And yes, I realize that Mitch and Lindsey may not resonate with much of the planet, but they should, as they are the very examples of the willful hypocrisy that decent people should avoid if they truly want a better world.

 

36 replies »

  1. On behalf of a certain segment of “rural voters” whom shall remain anonymous because nobody pays attention to us anyway, a certain cow (apologies to all sensible bovines everywhere) named Kellyanne is one the farmers leave out in the pasture during lightning storms. She’s been zapped so many times by lightning bolts from the blue (faux or not) that bits of her anatomy are ready for BBQ right now. Not that I’d personally eat that mess. O_o I laughed hysterically at this whole post, of course. Exquisite and just the right notes of clarity and piquant sarcasm. Four stars. Of course I’ll continue to wonder why Oscaretta (bravo on the name by the way) allowed someone to shove a spike through her head. The things some people will do for fame, hmmmm?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hmm. I think you may have just seriously dented my usual lust for BBQ. But the remote possibility that I might be biting into a product from the Fried Kellyanne Bovine Line has given me serious pause. I’ll never look at brisket the same way again. Thanks for that.

      As for Oscaretta, her desperate need for attention is both sad and pathetic. Then again, isn’t that why Trump ran for president?

      Like

  2. I hired a fabulous stylist from Paris, Henri de Kilowatt. I told him to make me look electric and I think he did an outstanding job!”

    I love this left me in stiches. I wrote an essay about Hollywood that i may post sometime next week its title is :

    Killing the Goose That Lays the Golden Oscars

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Meanwhile, as Don sits there, smoke pouring from the sparking seared circuits bouncing around in the empty vacuuacity of his skull Jareds hiding in the wardrobe, quietly packing, Kellyanne is rechecking her facts, Rudy is preparing another raft of frivolous suits while disputing reality. Hey, it pays the bills. As for Mulch McConnagain and Hearsay Mayhem-, still dancing, limboing on to Don’s Looney Toons- how low can they go?

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Your Russian is much better than mine. But even his minions are turning their backs now–it seems that rats always know when to desert a sinking Trump. I wonder how long it will take for Mindy (that’s Mitch and Lindsay’s couple name) to do the same.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. See, now I just saw that as an early version of a phone headset, explaining why you are entrusted with these photos and not I.

    Meanwhile, I can’t help but admire your ability to produce such gems, as I keep getting distracted by every ridiculous quote/tweet/inane comment he keeps spewing forth. Augh! … when will January 20th finally get here?!

    Here’s a site that helps me calm my nerves: https://www.timeanddate.com/countdown/election?iso=20210120T12&p0=263&msg=2021+Presidential+Inauguration&font=slab

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh, I like the concept of an early phone headset. (Crudetooth, perhaps?) And despite your protestations, I fully suspect that you could run a good race in turning these vintage photos into modern reflections.

      January 20th will get here sooner than we anticipate, but I fear the madness of what Wrongald is doing right now will resonate beyond that date. True sociopaths never go quietly into the dark night…

      And now I’m off to follow your calming link…

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.