Ron Howard’s Imagine Entertainment is cranking out a Lucille Ball/Desi Arnaz documentary. It has the family’s OK. It’s Amy Poehler’s directorial debut. It will be called — surprise! surprise! — “Lucy and Desi.” So far not one human exists who hasn’t yet grabbed a doc except maybe Biden. Once they figure out what the hell he does, he’ll get one, too.
Every used-to-be’s getting reborn. In 1963, we had Jerry Lewis in “The Nutty Professor.” Not something you’d put down your Bible study to watch. It got re-cranked in ’96 starring Eddie Murphy. And now — wow! — we’re in luck! The remake’s getting a reremake. Perhaps Murphy will again play multiple roles. I mean, is that exciting or what? Next comes garter belts and stockings with seams.
Everything new is old again. Like “Pinocchio.” We had it/him in 1911, 1936, 1940, 1957, 1965, 1967, 1968 and a few nostrils in between and since. Comes again the same saga of the same long-nose liar (not to be played by anyone in the Democratic party). This one’s John Turturro, Tilda Swinton, Christoph Waltz, Cate Blanchett, director Guillermo del Toro. I’d say it’s great — but nobody’s seen it, and I hate to lie if I don’t have to.
Seeing disloyal ex-Trumpers filling dumpsters with their books, a front-page attorney who is also a law professor says: “Michael Cohen — disbarred, disgruntled, convicted of criminal fraud, jailed, now under house arrest — telling all in a book? For cash? For vengeance? … Attorneys take an oath with intent of loyalty. Fearing what this lawyer now did, will future clients in jeopardy ever tell all? … Doubtful Trump will sue.
Imagine what Cohen might dredge up at the trial — book stuff he might’ve left out. A consigliere’s advice, in whom you have entrusted your deepest secrets, everything needful for advice, must be taken to his grave … Disgruntled, inner-circle pols — not favorable to Donald and with their own axes to grind — might call Cohen’s betrayal a patriot act. But he’s damaged the profession. Now how can a future client trust confiding all to his lawyer? They’ll withhold in fear.
“Nothing this former trusted adviser knew frees him ever to report what he thinks he knows. And for getting even? A guide, an adviser, a confidante, a trusted counselor is now selling treachery? This will decimate the legal profession.”
Remember Rolling Stone? The mag’s editor now wants an expert who knows today’s biggies, future maybes, has journalism experience, hip-hop know-how, R&B influence, plus electronic, Latin, K-pop, social media and music-industry sources. They’ll let him or her rep them on interviews. How about maybe Kanye West? Having muffed the White House, he could send a résumé.
In this era of no patriotism, a note is sent to Dr. Daniel Baker — whom many famous faces now call Earth’s No. 1 cosmetic surgeon — from an Army major in 1968’s 3-17 Cavalry in Vietnam. It reads: “We wondered why one man — from a prestigious medical family and who could’ve chosen to shun service — was here. Admired, highly respected, he was the unit’s surgeon for we who flew aircraft. An elegance about him, he worked tirelessly with pilots, flight crews and all in the squadron. He was one of us.
“You knew he’d do great things once back in the States. And he did. Surgically reattaching a girl’s hand, which had been severed in an accident.”
Dr. Baker: “What a surprise. I’d not heard from him in 50 years. His letter brought tears.”
Not to be heard at tonight’s convention: “We now bring you a man who is clever, shrewd, adroit, cunning and street smart — he’s a crook, that’s what he is.”
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