Aunt Lydia Alito and the New Brat Pack

Wealth, power, fame and success have their many upsides but clearly they DO NOT make you significantly happier. 

If they did we would not have so many aggrieved and psychologically damaged members of those perceived upper classes currently having hissy fits and generally acting out in front of the rest of us.

Veruca Salt energy out there

No, I’m not talking about the orange obvious.  That’s a given.

Exhibit A is Martha-Ann Alito, wife of U.S. Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito.  A lady so foaming at the mouth angry about the sight of a gay pride flag “across the lagoon” at her New Jersey summer house that last year she hung her own Appeal to Heaven flag – a symbol of both the Stop The Steal Campaign and the right’s effort to remake the U.S. government in Christian terms.

This woman? Really?

Secretly caught on what is now an infamous viral audio tape recorded by Lauren Windsor, a left wing political activist posing as a conservative supporter at a Supreme Court Historical Society black-tie event, Martha-Ann blustered she’s dreaming up new ways to get them, as well as all the rest of the media this summer.

You know what I want – I want a sacred heart of Jesus flag.  Because I have to look across the lagoon at the Pride Flag for the next month… I’m putting it up and I’m gonna send them a message every day, maybe every week I’ll be changing the flags.  I made a flag in my head, this is how I satisfy myself. I made a flag, it’s white and it has yellow and orange flames around it.  And in the middle is the word vergogna.  Vergogna in Italian means SHAME.  Vergogna. V-E-R-G-0-G-N-A. …Vergogna.  Shame, shame, shame on you…

Does she have an Etsy?

Yeah.  Well, Martha-Ann….f-k off.

Let me explain something.

The striped, multi-colored Gay Pride Flag – or Rainbow Flag –  was created by a small group of artists and activists in the seventies.  Its six different colors reflect the diversity within the LGBTQ community and over the years it has become a widely used international symbol of not only identity but also support from the millions of allies, aka family, friends, co-workers and acquaintances, of LGBTQ people.

Artist Gilbert Baker was the first designer to tackle the flag design.   And it was the famed gay rights leader Harvey Milk, who Baker first met in 1974, that challenged him to come up with a symbol of pride for the community.  

The original Baker flag

Eventually, Baker created a design of eight color stripes, which a team of artists and volunteers produced using a new hand-dyeing process.  They then hand-stitched the material together to create the first two flags, which made their joyous debut at the San Francisco Gay Pride Parade on June 25, 1978.

Five months later, on the morning of Nov. 27, 1978, Harvey Milk, was famously assassinated in City Hall, along with San Francisco Mayor George Moscone.  As a result, demand for this new symbol of pride was off the charts and over the years and decades it has grown in stature to become a broader symbol for inclusivity.  (Note: Though its eight color stripes had to be reduced to six due to the demands of mass production and the difficulty of producing – yes – the color of hot pink).

Long may it wave!

This story is particularly worth repeating in light of Martha-Ann’s bile-filed invectives against a flag designed to lovingly unite, rather than to divide, her fellow human beings.  And to illustrate her use of religion as a fiery cudgel of flames to presumably incinerate those not adhering to the rules of her particular sect, insults so many millions of people of faith who have become our public and private allies in a rainbow movement of acceptance.  

To actually hear the six minute recording of Martha-Ann’s gleefully venomous pronouncements against the Pride Flag, as well as so many members of the “media”  (Note:  You can do so here and see that I’m not exaggerating ) would feel like a throwback to another era were it not for this current iteration of the MAGA movement.  

I may have to just take your word for it, Chairy

With its daily attempts to turn us into a dictatorial theocracy through whichever branches of government it can reign supreme over or destroy – judicial, legislative and/or executive branch checks and balances be damned – it has long ceased being a group much interested in substantial, good faith compromise, i.e. democracy.  

This is best personified by the words of Martha-Ann’s husband, aka Justice Alito. Several weeks ago he was caught on another viral audio clip at that very same event agreeing with what he perceived to be a conservative Ms. Conrad when she stated to him that they (conservatives) had to keep pushing the country to return to a place of godliness against the opposition.  Said Alito:

One side or the other is going to win. I don’t know. I mean, there can be a way of working, a way of living together peacefully, but it’s difficult, you know, because there are differences on fundamental things that really can’t be compromised. They really can’t be compromised. So, it’s not like you are going to split the difference.

BYE NOW

Yup. That’s Martha-Ann’s husband.  One of nine people who have the final say on what the rule of law is in a country where the other 333+million of us reside.  The same guy who wrote the majority U.S. Supreme Court opinion  exactly two years ago that overturned Roe vs. Wade, leaving millions of woman unable to legally control their reproductive choices in their home states.

And the ruling was no accident.  It was part of a 30-year judicial effort (Note: Some would say crusade) led behind-the-scenes by Justice Alito.  

We’ll see how that works out for them #VOTE

And for anyone thinks he’s not coming for the Rainbow Flag, contraception or Martha-Ann’s favorite target – the media – google some of those phrases, along with a few of his speeches to conservative groups, and see what you come up with.

The judge’s refusal to split the difference with those who differ from the very fundamental beliefs of his self-imposed, very strict brand of Roman Catholicism, is perfectly simpatico with the beliefs of Martha-Ann, who even angrily quotes scripture in her audio tape.  

Though even more unhinged, at least to this Jewish writer, is when she boasts of her German lineage when asked about how she will continue to fight back against her growing number of critics.

My heritage is German. You come after me, I’m going to give it back to you.  It doesn’t have to be now.  But there will be a way.  They will know….

Um… yikes

Okay, but that’s like………bad movie dialogue no screenwriter would ever write.  

And should be of no concern to anyone except the psychiatrist she likely doesn’t go to.

Three really quick things before we begin building the Alito video dartboard for next week. 

#1 – You’d think Martha-Ann would be happy.  She’s got two houses, two healthy adult children and a lifetime’s worth of friends and connections to lean on in case anything should go seriously wrong.  (Note:  Not to mention, great lifetime health insurance).

 But she’s not.  No one who talks that way is truly happy.

It’s true!

#2 – Some of her media rage is so petty, it’s almost not to be believed.  Click on this link to an article from The Cut that will tell you in juicy detail every Real Housewives tidbit you ever wanted to know. But here’s the gist —

During her husband’s confirmation hearings to the U.S. Supreme Court 18 YEARS AGO, the Washington Post’s then fashion editor, Robin Givhan, who was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in criticism for work done the previous year its committee called “witty, closely observed essays that transform fashion criticism into cultural criticism,” dared to criticize several outfits Martha-Ann wore and, to this day, she hasn’t forgotten.

Girl, calm down

Okay, yes, it was a little – actually a lot – bitchy.  But I’ve been called much worse to my face for many a fashion faux pas over the years and, trust me, so have you – even if you didn’t hear them.  The Martha-Ann standouts were for a “charmingly awkward” baby blue cable knit cardigan that was akin to bringing your own “binky” to the Senate, and a gold tweed suit that looked like it was once upholstery from a La-Z-Boy.  

Yawn.  And have either of them ever met any gay people?

It’s giving Miranda

Nevertheless, and very true to form, a couple of weeks ago Martha-Ann was caught on that tape still seeking revenge as she recounted each written insult in great, discombobulated detail;  practically recited the transcript of the snide phone call she made back in 2007 to faux “congratulate” her writer nemesis on the Pulitzer win; and once again restated her everlasting life commitment to eventually get even with them all (Note: See video.  Again.).

#3 –For at least an hour a day all week these three words were popping into my mind: Aunt Lydia Alito.  For those who don’t know, Aunt Lydia is the nasty, unhappy past middle aged lady in the world of The Handmaid’s Tale.  What this means is that in the dystopian theocratic nation of Gilead, Aunt Lydia cattle prods young women of child bearing age into: religious obedience against their will; sexual submission to their male commanders against their will; and demands their eternal acceptance of the fact that their highest and most precious duty under Gilead law is to become a baby incubator for an unlimited array of children they would not choose to have in order to serve God.

OK but her suit is tailored to perfection

Suffice it to say that the dialogue in the five season Hulu series (adapted from Margaret Atwood’s all too prescient book and returning for one final season in summer 2025) is a hell of a lot better than anything either of the Alitos has ever said on their own.

Let’s end with this:

A few days ago I watched the feature documentary about eighties Brat Pack actors, Brats.  Its director, Andrew McCarthy, a brat pack “member” from such seminal youth films as Pretty In Pink and St. Elmo’s Fire, confesses that after all these years he still runs away from those times and those films, too often torturing himself over the unfairness of being referred to as a brat when he and his colleagues were anything but.

A must watch

A mashup of period footage of him and his cohorts when they were in their 20s, the film intercuts commentary from McCarthy along with new interviews and observations he elicits from such fellow actors, bratters and bratter adjacents as Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, Demi Moore, Jon Cryer, Lea Thompson, as well as a host of others, including the New York Magazine writer who made the phrase up in the first place.  

It’s A LOT to watch of McCarthy try to talk therapy his way out of it the psychological sand trap he has dug himself into for all these years via the camera and on audio.

Cmon Blane

Still, rather than seething with rage about all the people he is going to get for coming after him all those years ago, he actually seems to at least be trying to figure out why all that access, success, money, and privilege couldn’t wipe away the sting of being called an unkind name.  Or two or three.  Almost forty years ago.  

Which is more than you can say for some people.  Or anything else that came out of the eighties.

And for some reason, that gave me hope.  

John Parr – “St. Elmo’s Fire”

My Taste in Quarantine

There is no accounting for taste.  Especially my own.  These days.

After many decades alternately employed as a critic, journalist, screenwriter, college professor and generally professional opinionist on way too much, I know what I like and don’t like.  It’s not that I’m not occasionally surprised or appalled by where my tastes take me but, for the most part, it’s unsurprising.

Until now.

In this world of social distancing self-quarantine there is no accounting for taste. Especially my own.

We are living in a judgement free zone

During these endless hours/days/weeks at home I find myself falling into endless rabbit holes of entertainment, diversion and amusement even though I have all the time on my hands to do everything I’ve ever wanted to do that can be done solo inside the solitude of one’s own home.

Which is, let’s face it, quite a lot in our 21st century.

The problem is, I don’t want to do much except gawk at everything I can’t experience up close and personal.  In other words – LIVE. 

That is the only explanation I can come up with for the majority of my entertainment hours this week.

Which, as I’ve said, is pretty much the majority of my hours in every single day.

That, and that alone, is why I spent six of them (in one 24-hour period) on Netflix’s reality/docuseries Tiger King.  Sure, I realize it was TV’s  #1 RATED most popular show last week AND the #1 featured choice in Netflix logarithms (Note:  Whatever they are).  But I HATE sh-t like that.

WHY am I watching this?

No, really.

The last time I remember watching TV’s number one show was a Miss America Beauty pageant as a wee lad in the 1960s.  I thought the gowns were cool and I was dying to gawk at some poor bubble-haired young woman from the south or Midwest almost burn herself to a crisp as she threw three fire-lit batons high into the air.

These were they type of diversions I needed back then as a young gay boy trying to not acknowledge reality.

And yet, here I am again, right back where I was, watching a 21st century version for that same type of escape.

Me, working on my wave

But this time in the form of a different spectacle.  That of a gay, polygamous, self proclaimed redneck who cuddles with numerous 400 lb. tigers, has a padlock piercing on his penis and is frenemies with multiple felons that enable him to control an exotic roadside animal sanctuary where he may or may not be plotting the murder of others and may or may not be engaging in all kinds of meth-fueled sex parties with any number of hunky younger lovers.

That’s the amount of distraction required from MY 21st century reality.  And clearly most of YOURS.

Yet I’m not sure how I account going from that to the best screenplay winner at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, Portrait of A Lady on Fire. 

Guilt, perhaps?

Maybe not.  It feels like a much more natural fit for me to watch a very artsy and very French film about two young women in the late 1700s fall in love/lust very, very VERY slowly in a stripped down rustic Nancy Meyer-ish type home by the sea.  One’s a painter secretly hired to do a portrait of the other, a young woman of means promised into marriage by a domineering mother.  And each has a secret that dare not speak its name.

Plus Fire! (just in case you needed that confirmed)

It was really good, I liked it and yet….I dozed off three different times and had to rewind to find my place back into the story because hey, subtitles and lingering looks.  In these times, they’re not as compelling on the faces of people who could actually reach out and touch each other.  In the same room.  Without masks!

So, I mean, watch it or don’t watch but know it’s incredibly well done and under any more normal circumstances I would NEVER have fallen asleep.  I swear.

I SAID NO JUDGEMENT!

Of course, it could have been anxiety that made me that tired.  So as I made my way into the bedroom, knowing my husband was going to be working late downstairs, I was determined that this one night I could finally get my much-needed, fitful, say, at least 6 or 7or 22  hours of sleep.

Whereupon (Note:  A word I must have heard in the French film) I rest my head on my pillow and suddenly become WIDE AWAKE.  Like, not even tired slightly.

So what does one do with that these days?  Check one’s email and look at the link some well-intentioned friend sends you on some well-intentioned diversion to take away your psychic pain of the moment (aka what you saw on the NEWS that day).

Not a good idea.

I just can’t quit you MSNBC

Because after watching that YouTube offering you stumble onto something else and then something further and wind up watching:

A 1973 two-part FIRST EVER television interview with Katharine Hepburn.  You want to talk about three hours of blissful bliss without commercials.  I was up until 3:30 in the morning learning these essential facts:

– Kate thinks that you CAN’T HAVE EVERYTHING, meaning, career, love AND your own family. 

– Kate thinks the reason she was a success is that she had great parents who were always attentive and ALWAYS encouraged her in everything she wanted to do (Note: F-k her).

– Kate knows the other reasons she was a success was that she was incredibly hard-working, didn’t drink or do drugs, and, most of all, didn’t indulge in self-pity (Note #2 – Double f-k her).

– Kate said that in addition to talent, the reason people become movie stars is that they have a distinct voice, the camera somehow loves how they photograph and that they are incredibly….LUCKY. (Note:  Really?????) 

Click here to watch the whole glorious interview

Though in the case of a legend like Garbo it was the added element of mystery, she noted.  No matter how much time you spent with her and no matter how well you liked her (and Kate copped to both) you NEVER REALLY KNEW HER.  NO ONE DID.

See, I don’t know what to do with that.

And probably already knew it at 1:00 a.m., anyway.

Which is why, when I look over the last three self-isolating weeks and am being totally honest – I have to admit – that despite all of the above and much, much more –when you total it all up –  I have still spent the majority of my mindless entertainment time – on my usual time suck….

You know you love it!!

There are hours of home makeover shows but this week I was all about Love It Or List It and Nate and Jeremiah Save My House.  Rather than being romantic, reality show bizarre or biographically uninstructional, these two series are most particularly, and hopelessly, predictable.

Come for the design, stay for Hilary’s coordinating accessories #necklaceandearringsfordays

A mess of a house is presented to a duo of two experts (Note: Cause a duo is always two) and in the end, they always always, ALWAYS  have the same inevitable outcome.

The homes are so colorful, so functional and so vastly all that and more you can’t help but be blindsided.  And, unlike the type of blindsiding we’ve grown used to, in a hopelessly great way.

Sure, no matter how great my house might be it won’t ever be that bright, perfect or airy.  However, these days it doesn’t matter because NO ONE AT ALL who wants to LIVE will get to redo their house from the ground up because NO ONE AT ALL can be a ONE-PERSON BAND OF reconstruction in self-isolation.

And somehow I find that reassuring.

As reassuring as I find Nate and Jeremiah’s coordinating outfits #howcutearethey #somuchBEIGE

Not to mention, even if you could do everything YOURSELF, where would you get the materials?  Someone (and certainly more than one) would have to deliver it ALL to you and then YOU would have to Lysol or Clorox wipe them ALL down.   Every.  Last.  One.

Even with all the time in the world, none of us has time for that.

2011 Tony Awards Performance (with Sutton Foster) – “Anything Goes”