Cruise Control

INT, CREEPY PENTHOUSE APARTMENT.
Walls of glass reveal the grid of light and ambiguity of LA at night. An apartment very much like the Comedian's apartment in "The Watchmen." But, you  know, different.

The Bald Guy watches the Academy Awards credits roll on a wall-mounted flat screen TV. Then raises a remote -- and kills the TV.

A smug look of satisfaction distorts his generic face.

This cell phone rings. He whips it out.

David! (listens) Oh definitely. The SPs will never come back from this. Every PTS in town will think twice. Hollywood is ours now! If Elron was alive he'd ... (listens) I feel the same way, David.  (beat) You know I do. Nighty-night.

The Bald Guy ends the call, puts cell phone in his pocket.

He smiles, stands up, and begins dancing ...

And we see he's really ...

Ohmygod he's really ....

Agghhhhhhhh!

Matt Damon

Damon: (whirling around) F** you and your f**ing candy. (grabs candy, randomly throws it) That Oscar's mine, you f*** p***! I said I'd f***ing take it and I'm taking it! Any of you motherf**ing a**holes has a problem with that, you tell me to my f***ing face.


Sitting in the chair to Damon's left, Casey Afleck mumbles something.

Damon: Man, I have no idea what you should just said.

Marlee Maitlin supplies her input from the chair to Damon's right.

Matlin: (speaking and signing) He says you can take the Oscar and shove it up ...

Damon: My ass. That's wicked funny, Casey.

Casey: (mumbles something) 

Tray Parker: (OS -- mentally challenged voice) Matt Damon.

Damon: Not funny, Parker. Wasn't the first time.

Tray Parker: (OS) Matt Damon.

Damon: Parker. I swear to f*** Christ you say that one more time I'll f*** kill you.

Tray Parker: (OS ) Matt Damon.

Damon: Motherf***!

He leaps over chair.

Pathetic apology

Sorry about the FBI warning label, but I have to put it in. It's legally stipulated under Article 29 and the force majeur doctrine, though we all know saying it's "legal" won't save our collective ass if this goes sideways. Obviously, don't discuss this hot mess outside the need-to-know cell-structure. Don't tell your husband, wife, kids, friends, dog, or talk to yourself in the mirror. Playing dumb is the smart thing to do. And being smart is probably dumb. Something tells me Hamlet had a file on Claudius just like this. We all know what happened to him. I think we all know what we have to do, but analysis is so much easier. I know I'm being kinda wordy, but I hate the drive home at night. A mere 17 miles from Langleuy to Silver Springs, but I never think I'll get there. OK, I'll shut up now. Just read this shit.

Warning

THIS MATERIAL DESIGNATED SECURITY LEVEL ULTRA. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS WILL RESULT IN SEVERE PENALTIES. EYES ONLY. DO NOT PRINT, COPY OR UPLOAD. AVAILABLE CIA STANDALONE SERVER ONLY. IF YOU ARE READING THIS ON THE INTERNET, OR ANY OTHER DIGITAL DEVICE OR IN PRINTED FORM, ACCESS IS UNAUTHORIZED. DESTROY DOCUMENT OR DEVICE AND REPORT TO CIA STATION CHIEF IMMEDIATELY.

Heaven or Someplace Like It

The show gives us glimpses of the afterlife, the interlife, the region between, or whatever the hell they call it.

"Heaven" doesn't resemble those Sunday School picture book illustrations. No golden streets, pearly gates, or angelic choirs hanging around on clouds and playing their harps. 

In her interludes between death and rebirth, Prairie pops into a three dimensional X-Y-Z grid of light . This cordinate system divides the blackness of space. Tiny galaxies drift by at infinitesimal scale. (and furiously accelerated time scale too. A second = a million years, or thereabouts.) The galaxies float through Prairie and her Sprit guide. Which implies this is place is no place. It's more of a user interface. An inter dimensional operating system,.

Did the angels build this place or do they just work here? Who are they working for?

If there's somebody upstairs, they aren't mentioned.

This isn't so much a spiritual realm as a physical realm in higher dimensions. More like the wormhole timey-wimey subway system in Doctor Who, and It only looks like religion, folks. But it's really science. Quantum physics and the something universe theory.

Destry Rides Again

The small town of Bottleneck is under the control of Kent (Brian Donlevy), a power-hungry boss who gets control over the local cattle ranchers by winning a rigged game of cards. When the local sheriff questions the legitimacy of the game, Kent has him killed and names the town drunk, Dimsdale (Charles Winninger), as sheriff. What Kent doesn't know is that Dimsdale knows legendary lawman Tom Destry, who in turns sends his daring son Tom Destry Jr. (James Stewart) to Bottleneck to save the day.

Although Destry wasn't black, Mel Brooks lifted a shitload of elements for "Blazing Saddles." 

Whale's Tale

On a surface level, Moby Dick is about obsession. Referring to Melville's bigass novel, just to be clear. "Jaws" is basically "Moby Dick" with a shark substituting for a whale. Quint was dumped in the Pacific with the sailors of the Indianapolis. Most of his mates became shark food; Quint survived, and waged a vendetta against sharks -- the "Jaws" terrorizing Amity, specifically. Jaws ate him. Moby Dick ate Ahab's leg. Ahab launched a vendetta against the great white whale. With the exception of Ishmael, the crew wound up dead; Ahab wound up harpooned to the whale.
On a deeper level, it's a mad little allegory about the Calvinistic clockwork universe. God is the mad watchmaker; if it's God will that a whale eats your leg, you should deal with it. It's entirely possible there's no watchmaker behind the mad machine. You should deal with that, too. Revenge against God and/or the universe is just plain stupid.
The whale is other. Inhuman. Like the sentient ocean in Solaris, it can't be analyzed. It's also bigger than you are. You lost a leg? Too bad. You will not beat up the universe. You will not beat up God. Don't try.
This is second hand knowledge, English major lore. I've read a seriously condensed edition with Kool illustration. I've seen boththe John Huston movie and the Mister Magoo adaptation. I've even read Ray Bradbury's script for the John Houston movie. Cool script. I've never actually read the original, unedited novel.

Ron Howard. Wow. What a wasted opportunity.