The Hollywood Bowles

Preying on the Grieving

Scott Bowles

January 28, 2019

I spent half my career as a police reporter. After watching Ronald Gene Simmons executed for killing 16 people over the Christmas holiday, I realized I wanted out of the death business.

So I took a beat as far-flung from crime as I could imagine: movie critic. In writing this review for a website, I was reminded why I left:

‘Ted Bundy was not your typical serial killer. Educated, telegenic and media-savvy, Bundy redefined how authorities hunted and captured murderers. He also forged a macabre template for Hollywood that persists to this day.

Fittingly, Netflix’s new film, Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, is not your typical crime documentary. Unlike the recent spate of real-life whodunnits, including Making a Murderer, The Innocent Man and The Staircase, Tapes is more concerned with documenting murder rather than questioning it.

While the murders are more than four decades old (the film marks the 30th anniversary of Bundy’s 1989 execution), it remains etched on America’s consciousness: Zac Efron will play Bundy in the film Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, which debuted at this year’s Sundance and will be released commercially later this year. And the documentary set Twitter so ablaze with panicked posts after its release the streaming service tweeted that audiences “not watch the movie alone,” though that may have simply been slick marketing.

Still, the documentary included several revelations about the case and demonstrated how Bundy’s killing spree forever heightened the nation’s fascination — and paranoia — surrounding random violence.

Directed by Oscar-winning filmmaker Joe Berlinger (Brother’s Keeper, the Paradise Lost trilogy), he begins the four-part series with a troubling, unexplained truth about the country: Serial killings became en vogue in the 1970’s. From Charles Manson to the Zodiac Killer to Son of Sam to John Wayne Gacy, the decade was essentially blood-stained with a series of random slayings that transfixed the country.

But none captured public attention like Bundy. Unlike the other murderers, whose homicides were contained in relatively small geographic regions, Bundy’s murders spanned seven states, beginning in Washington and ending in Florida. And none neared his body count; while Bundy confessed to 30 murders of women, police speculate he may have claimed more than 100 lives.

Even the story of how investigators and reporters obtained more than 80 hours of audiotape was something out of a movie. Until two days before he was sent to the electric chair, Bundy refused to admit to any killings. So frustrated questioners tried a different tack, asking him to explain how a killer might have committed such atrocities yet remain uncaught. Speaking in the third-person, Bundy obliged, apparently relishing reliving his elusive methods and two prison escapes.

Among the shows revelations:

Bundy road-tripped after his first escape. Bundy, who had a college degree in psychology, knew that local police jurisdictions communicated poorly. So after jumping out of a second-floor window during his kidnapping trial, he stole a car and began a 3,000-mile road trip, killing women in seven states. It took months for authorities to link the slayings.

Bite marks sealed his fate. Because police had no fingerprints and DNA analysis had not yet been invented, Bundy was convicted on meager evidence: bite marks on one victim — evidence now considered junk science. One of Bundy’s victims was bitten twice during her slaying. The marks matched Bundy’s crooked teeth, forensic experts testified.

Bundy was tried for murder while on death row. Florida prosecutors were so concerned Bundy might overturn his conviction on appeal, they prosecuted him on death row for the murder of 12-year-old Lynette Dawn Culver. He was found guilty based on a witness who saw Bundy force the girl into a van from her middle school.

Bundy started a family on death row. Bundy, who acted as his own defense lawyer, proposed to girlfriend Carol Ann Boone as she sat on the witness stand (prosecutors believe he thought it would make him appear sympathetic). She accepted and the couple, who surreptitiously copulated behind bars, conceived a daughter on death row.

Bundy inspired FBI profiling. Following Bundy’s arrest — along with the high-profile surge in serial killings — the FBI began collecting details of the slayings into a single database, and began training agents to look for similar traits. Bundy himself became a profiler, collecting news stories and sharing theories with agents who would visit him for counsel.

Berlinger sprinkles the show with other sensationalist details, including that Bundy later confessed to necrophilia and beheading some victims. The confessions, often recorded in whispers through prison Plexiglas, were an attempt by Bundy to “cleanse his soul,” the film explains.

But the true revelation of the series is how Bundy remains imprinted on our culture. He had groupies at his trials, young women who attempted to deliver love notes to him through his attorneys (all rejected). And the pop culture image we have of serial killers remains Bundy-esque: brilliant, cunning and eloquent, sometimes dashing. Think Hannibal Lecter, Dexter, American Psycho‘s Patrick Bateman, You‘s Joe Goldberg.

The most telling depiction, though, comes from Bundy himself, in the last words captured in Tapes:

“We want to be able to say we can identify these dangerous people. And the really scary thing is you can’t identify them. People don’t realize that there are potential killers among them. How could anyone live in a society where people they liked, loved, lived with, worked with, and admired could the next day turn out to be the most demonic people imaginable?” ‘

When the Buzz Saw Hits Bone

Scott Bowles

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January 19, 2019

The media outlet Buzzfeed had to down a plateful of crow today, served up by none other than Robert Mueller.

The meal was unexpected for a couple of reasons. One, Buzzfeed is as much of a news outlet as Scientology is a religion. In fact, they share a similar modus operandi: Both try to attract followers for cash, not enlightenment.

Second, and more startlingly, was the waiter. Mueller tends to treat media reports like fresh turds. He avoids them like he’s walking barefoot.

But his office couldn’t ignore Buzzfeed‘s “bombshell” story last night: Citing two anonymous sources, it said Mueller’s office suspected thug lawyer/fixer Michael Cohen had been ordered to lie to Congress by none other than the president.

In a rare rebuke, Mueller’s office issued an official repudiation. While it did not specifically name the errors in the story, special counsel spokesperson Peter Carr told BuzzFeed its “description of specific statements to the Special Counsel’s Office, and characterization of documents and testimony obtained by this office, regarding Michael Cohen’s congressional testimony are not accurate.”

As expected, Buzzfeed stood by its report, calling on Mueller’s office to be specific on the claimed inaccuracies. Even worse, Chris Cuomo, the news anchor at cable TV’s (usually) most unbiased 24/7 news outlet, offered this little editorial nugget, claiming Mueller’s office damaged the already-tarnished view of news media:

“Mueller didn’t do the media any favors tonight and he did do the president one,” Cuomo cawed. “This allows them to say, ‘You can’t believe it, you can’t believe what you read, you can’t believe what you hear, you can only believe us,’” Cuomo then added, ”‘Even the special counsel says that the media doesn’t get it right.’”

With all due respect to Cuomo, CNN and the kids at Buzzfeed: Go fuck yourselves.

To CNN: What’s your message here? That to call us out for inaccuracy is to be the enemy, on the wrong side of a firefight? Our job is to get it right. And when we don’t, or are accused of being wrong, our job is to back up our words with the facts we reported.

Mueller’s job isn’t to do anyone favors. Neither the media nor the president. His job is to get to the truth. Would we even believe his investigation if was doing anyone favors?

And it’s not like Mueller to capriciously refute a media report. For instance, his office said nothing last week when The New York Times reported that the FBI had opened an investigation into whether Trump was acting as a Russian agent after his firing of James Comey. Was he doing the media a favor then and the president a disfavor? Clearly, his office speaks up when it finds something to be egregiously off.

To Buzzfeed: How can you seriously ask Mueller’s office to provide you with specific details of their claim when you quote unnamed sources? You’re not playing with a double edged sword here; you’re playing with a doubled edged sword with a razor blade handle. Why don’t you man-up behind your story first, and we’ll talk details.

A bit more about Buzzfeed: Here are a few headlines from your edition Saturday. “27 Cheap Products To Actually Organize All The Small Stuff/Everything is under $25!” And “12 People Who Posted On Social Media Without Giving A Single F (Featuring savage moms.)” And “34 Genius Products That Will Fix Your Small (But Annoying) Problems/Button extenders that will add an extra 1″ to my waistline? Where were you when I was suffering at Thanksgiving dinner?”

Understand: Every time Buzzfeed does a story on products for sale, it gets a cut of that sale. They admit it with this caveat before each glowing review of a product: “We hope you love the products we recommend! Just so you know, BuzzFeed may collect a share of sales or other compensation from the links on this page. Oh, and FYI — prices are accurate and items in stock as of time of publication.”

Just because you admit you profit off of (invariably positive) “reviews” of merchandise doesn’t make your story valid. It just makes it an ad, dimwits.

And to Cuomo, whose catch phrase before each newscast is “Let’s get at it.” Ok, let’s.

Mueller taking a media report to task has the absolute opposite effect of emboldening the president. In fact, it undercuts Trump’s “fake news” mantra and gives credence to Mueller’s investigation (Trump inadvertently praised Mueller by citing the release to bash Buzzfeed‘s story). If Mueller is in no one’s camp — and willing to call a media report inaccurate — it’s tougher to call him biased, let alone a witch hunter.

This speaks to a larger issue: the public distrust of media. No outlet is as critical of the president as this one. We have no problem calling Trump out on everything from outright lies to uneducated misspellings (hamberders?).

But not at the cost of accuracy. The truth is the only currency we can carry.

And the truth is this: The president is onto something about us, though, predictably, he is ignorantly off-point. America isn’t riddled with fake news. But when outlets make a profit on trending stories and click-bait, it’s riddled with something much worse:

Non news.

Under Darkness of M. Night

Scott Bowles

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January 13, 2019

M. Night Shyamalan’s career is something akin to the stock market. After making his Hollywood splash with the Oscar-nominated chiller The Sixth Sense, he was hailed on the cover of Newsweek as the next Steven Spielberg. But since then, his career has seen as many peaks and valleys as The Dow Jones. In anticipation of his trilogy capper Glass, we take a look and rank the dozen films in his career.

The Last Airbender (2010)

Shyamalan had a reputation of making tight suspense movies that didn’t break the bank: His first seven movies cost less than $75 million. Maybe that’s what made Airbender so disappointing. Despite boasting a $150 million budget, the movie was marked with uninspired performance, shoddy special effects and a script devoid of his trademark flourishes of quiet tension — a far cry from the wildly wildly imaginative Nickelodeon series on which it was based. Savage reviews sealed the movie’s fate — and Shyamalan’s plans for a trilogy.

Lady in the Water (2006)

One of the biggest disappointments of Shyamalan’s career. Before beginning production on this fairy tale, Shyamalan had quite a resume, with Sense, Unbreakable and Signs under his belt. And with a cast lead by Paul Giamatti, Bryce Dallas Howard and Jeffrey Wright, expectations were stratospheric. Alas, this story about a blue collar Joe trying to save a stranded water faerie return home came off as an exercise in self-indulgent hubris, and sank like a stone with critics and fans.

Praying With Anger (1992)

While not technically a Hollywood film (Shyamalan started working on his debut film while still a student at NYU), this was his first true movie: He wrote, produced, funded, directed, and starred in the story of an Americanized young man of East Indian descent returning home to rediscover his roots. While the movie didn’t have the low-budget Blair Witch or El Mariachi debut effect he hoped (the pacing was molasses slow and it showed Shyamalan, who played the lead, is no actor), it did grab the attention of studio execs who saw potential, opening the door for Sense.

After Earth (2013)

Credit Shyamalan with guts: Even after the costly debacle that was Airbender, Shyamalan wasn’t shy about swinging for the big-budget fences, and Columbia Pictures obliged with a $130 million budget and Will Smith for this sci-fi adventure. But the story of space travelers stranded on an alien planet played as an empty vessel, a vanity project for Smith and his son Jaden, who showed a surprising lack of chemistry and could not muster, of all things, much emotion to overcome the unimpressive special effects. While star power and overseas grosses helped the movie turn a small profit, the movie never took flight with fans and reviewers.

The Happening (2008)

Despite a terrific trailer, Happening became a Hollywood punchline about wind being an awful casting choice for a thriller. The story about a teacher, his wife and their friends trying to outrun a mysterious plague has its fans, but primarily among B-movie fans fond of it’s unintentional B-movie quality.

Wide Awake(1998)

Most people don’t even know Rosie O’Donnell starred in a Shyamalan film, but this clunker about a fifth grader who sets off on a search for God after the death of his grandfather is unfortunate proof otherwise. While the movie should have been in the wheelhouse of Shyamalan’s themes of faith, family and identity, the story was too plodding and schmaltzy to get the director back on top of his game.

The Visit (2015)

After his fourth straight big-budget misfire in After Earth, Shyamalan seemed poised for a possible comeback with this 2015 semi found-footage film about teen siblings visiting their grandparents and finding them engaged in some seriously deranged behavior. Too deranged for audiences, who found the movie claustrophobic, paranoid and just plain bizarre — made more confusingly jittery by the movie’s handheld camera work. It did, though, earn a 72% on RottenTomatoes and gave a glimpse into the creepy anxiousness Shyamalan would use so effectively in Split.

The Village (2004)

Perhaps the most underrated film in Shymalan’s oeuvre. Sure, the central conceit is a cheap twist with no clever foreshadowing clues like Sense. But the mournful story and Gothic themes of grief, fear and the coldness of modern society made for an effective chiller, accentuated by the woods that made up the set and the “creature” that haunted them. Not to mention, it featured Roger Deakins haunting cinematography and a terrific romantic score from James Newton Howard. The movie enjoyed a healthy home video run and warrants a repeat viewing for those expecting something different in theaters.

Split (2017)

While The Visit didn’t quite put Shyamalan back on top, it proved Shyamalan was ready to tackle the darker, deeper themes that made him a critical darling early in his career. Backed by the risk-taking production house Blumhouse, this story of a man suffering from multiple personalities was a showcase for James McAvoy’s incredible range with voices and characters, and is perhaps the most unexpected entry of a suspense trilogy in recent cinema. It’s a wonderful examination of psychological horror and was the surprise commercial hit of 2017, raking in $138 million, more than three times its budget. It’s also made Glass the most anticipated film of winter.

Signs (2002)

Sure, it’s too long, and critics had a field day with the twist ending (why would invading aliens, who dissolve in water, invade a planet that’s 70% water and rains regularly?). But Signs became not only a sci-fi masterpiece, but it pulled off the near-impossible at the box office: After dropping from the No. 1 perch its opening weekend, it roared back in its fourth weekend to hold the top spot for three straight, raking in $227 million by the end of its run. Many consider it Mel Gibson’s finest performance, and made a scene-stealer out of Joaquin Phoenix. It also became that true Hollywood rarity: a religious parable to wear its heart on its sleeve.

Unbreakable (2000)

Perhaps the most underrated superhero film in modern Hollywood memory. Coming on the heels of Sense with a cryptic trailer and a shroud of secrecy, Unbreakable set an unreachable bar of expectations, and its $95 million at the box office — $5 million short of the ridiculous $100 million “blockbuster” label requirement — had some media wonks deeming it a disappointment. But it’s eminently re-watchable for the clues it subtly lays out, the sequel-friendly landscape it carves, and still stands as some of the best work Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson have ever done. It’s even got the subtle heart of a family drama, virtually unheard of in today’s superhero universe.

The Sixth Sense (1999)

Even Shyamalan could not come up with an unexpected twist to this list. What more can be said about a debut that challenges Orson Welles’? Shyamalan’s tale of a soft-spoken 10-year-old who sees dead people comes off as a straightforward horror movie. But the mesmerizing performance of Oscar-nominated Haley Joel Osment, played against Bruce Willis’ wonderfully restrained performance and capped by the confident directing of a Tinsel Town wunderkind, made Sense not only the suspense thriller of the year, but the decade. No matter how many times you watch it, you’ll find a new, subtle clue hinting at its devastating finale.

We Don’t Need No Education

Scott Bowles

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January 12, 2019

Imagine you’re a parent of two toddlers and have foolishly bought a toy from the devil (Who knows? Maybe the kids were your first sucker’s bet with Beelzebub). After the transaction, you learn the details of the Faustian bargain: The toy will forever please them, but it cannot be withheld from them. They must be allowed to play with it.

You’re driving home with it, and the toddlers in the backseat begin to bawl over who gets to play with it first. What do you do?

I’ve asked several parents, including my mother, that question. Every one have said they would break the devil’s deal and smash the toy. But I suggest this as a counter if you had to abide by the terms: You decide which child is the more reasonable, and explain that the immature one gets it first, and the more mature one will get an equal amount of playtime afterward. A bitter pill for the mature child, to be sure. But the only way to not veer off the road and through the bridge, killing you all.

That’s where we are now. Donald Trump is the devil. The border wall is the toy. And the parties are the bawling kids. Unfortunately, there is no parent in the car. So it’s up to the more mature child to swallow the bitter pill.

Yet neither kid is opting to take on the role. Trump would no sooner cave on the wall than he would read a book. And Nancy Pelosi said in an interview this weekend she would not concede “one dollar” to the $5.7 billion dollar wall bill — or 1/8 of 1% of America’s $4 trillion budget. That means the toy could be bought at a 99 cent store — with change.

Meanwhile, 800,000 American federal employees received a paycheck Friday that read $0.00 — along with news that neither side is willing to give an inch.

How dare we treat nearly a million Americans this way? The media likes to call these workers pawns in the showdown, but that’s bullshit. At least pawns stay sheltered in a box.

Not so for many Americans. After Trump’s bullshit address calling the southern border a “humanitarian crisis,” Bernie Sanders issued an online rebuttal. During it, he said he personally heard from a federal worker who had $100 left in her checking account; not enough to feed her kids for a week, let alone make a car or rental payment.

Yet not one Democrat has suggested just giving baby his binky, even though they could avoid a political loss of face by allowing Trump to declare a national emergency. They’ve even promised to fight the declaration in court if he were to do so. All the way to the Supreme Court, they vow.

Gosh, I wonder how a GOP-run Supreme Court would rule after months of a shutdown.

Pride apparently forbids giving an inch, even if that inch leaves 800,000 unpaid. That’s larger than the population of five states and the District of Columbia. Would they think that way if an entire state was left out of work?

Maybe they would. Chuck Schumer said last week that Dems would not allow Trump to hold Americans hostage.

Let’s play this out. Say a Mideast country kidnapped 800,000 Americans. And they demanded $10 billion, or they would behead each and every one of the hostages. Would a politician dare say “we do not acquiesce to terrorists demands” and tell the country to go ahead, chop away?

Of course not. We’d pay the ransom, get the people back, then bomb the offending country back into the stone age.

The Dems have been offered that metaphorical bomb with Trump’s threat. The emergency declaration puts the border fiasco squarely on his plate — and the plate of Republicans. And Americans get to work. Our government gets to run. Our national parks get to shake their current curse of becoming national toilets.

What more ammunition could Dems ask for in a 2020 election, when a tyrannical president and key GOP Senatorial seats are in jeopardy?

Republicans know this, which is why they’re cautioning President Dullard not to do it. Yet Lisa Murkowski, a GOP senator from Alaska, actually said this on the record:

“The real concern that I have is the precedent that this then sets because this border security is Donald Trump’s priority, (and) we don’t know who the next president may be. But it may be a president where their number one priority is dealing with climate change who says ‘I don’t care whether I have support of the Congress, I’m going to direct these funds to address this because I feel like this is a crisis,'”

Why wouldn’t Dems want this precedent set? Why not dare Trump to call one, just to goad him into a boondoggle? If global warming isn’t the true definition of a national emergency, what is? And Murkowski publicly marked her party as the one that doubts science, questions global warming. Trump and his lackeys have offered a gift neatly wrapped and bowed. Yet somehow, Dems are looking that political gift horse straight in the gullet.

I get the discomfort of swallowing a bitter pill. I take 16 pills a day for my transplants. Eight of them are bitter as hell. Over 19 years, that’s 55,480 bitter pills. If one doesn’t go down smoothly with water, it’s like sucking on rusted metal, and leaves an aftertaste for about a minute.

But the greater gain is worth the bitterness. Dems should try swallowing just one.

In addition, they could try this simple exercise, since a brain scan is complicated: Take both hands, and put them on your hips. Then slowly move your hands along your body behind you at the same pace, until your fingers touch.

If you do it right, you’ll find a spine.

Six Thousand, Nine Hundred Thirty Five and Counting

Scott Bowles

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January 11, 2019

Happy Birthday Samuel!

Can you believe we met 19 years ago? That’s 6,935 days we’ve known each other. Or 166,440 hours. Or 9,986,400 seconds. But who’s counting?

Well, to be honest, I am. Every one of them.

I never told you what the doctors told me before they introduced us. They said that most organ transplants are a short-term lease. On average, they said, a transplanted organ lasts an average of seven years before a rejection. They told me that average was dragged down by patients who foolishly thought thought they were cured with the surgery, to the point they would stop taking their immunosuppresants.

So be diligent, they said. Take them religiously, they said.

Screw religion. I’m a born again Samuelist. This is the proudest achievement of my life, and I say that without reservation or hesitation: I have prayed at your altar every day since our bittersweet introduction. I have not missed a single day of taking the meds that keep you in my body, in my heart. Show me an evangelist with that track record.

There’s something else a doctor told me, only this year. Did you know that pancreas transplants didn’t become a recognized, routine operation until 2008? Every doctor I meet gives me a double take when I tell him we joined forces in 2000. Only three months ago, an emergency room nurse told me she had never even heard of a pancreas transplant, that she didn’t know the surgery exists.

I wanted to report her to the AMA to get her license revoked. Instead, I did what I thought you would do: I held no malice. Instead I took the bright path, as everything I’ve read about you said you did. Instead, I simply held this notion, gripped this epiphany:

We’re pioneers, brother. You want to be Lewis or Clark?

I’ll be honest: It wasn’t a year without hiccups, Sam. The surgery came freighted with nausea a year after our coupling. I got to know the inside of a toilet bowl more intimately than Mr. Clean.

I tried everything the past year. Juggling a half dozen nausea meds. Avoided eating before any occasion of significance (I even had a term for it, “carving widows” of nausea-free moments). Smoked weed like the burnouts I disdained in high school.

But on my last hospital visit (the one with Nurse Ratched), a doctor told me, for the first time, that blood tests indicated some signs of rejection.

You can’t imagine the chill that went through my body at that word, rejection. No doctor ever uttered it to me (other than as warning at our surgery). Then, as my blood test results began to improve, he said goodbye with a single sentence. “More water, less weed.”

When I got home that day, I took every flake of weed, every pipe, every stoner’s tool of choice, chucked them in bins and stored them under the sink and in the rafters of the garage, never to be touched again. Then I went to the grocery store and bought literally dozens of Gatorade, Powerade, every beverage the docs said would keep you hydrated, keep your potassium and magnesium levels at proper measure.

This is what my fridge looks like now. I guzzle ades like a linebacker in the fourth quarter of a television commercial.

And you know what? The nausea disappeared like a Vegas magic trick. Mom would be pissed if I didn’t knock on wood at that utterance. So I’m rapping my forehead now.

But I feel stronger now, tougher now, smarter now. Who could dare claim credit except you?

A final admission before I wrap up this blathering. Whenever someone asks me whether I’m up to a daunting task, I like to act tough. I say, “Are you kidding? I carry the dead.”

That’s a bald faced lie. In truth, I carry the living.

Here’s to 10 million seconds and ticking.

Pride Goeth

Scott Bowles

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December 30, 2018

Ask any parent of a newborn: There’s no reasoning with a fussy infant. You can either feed him, change him, or swaddle him in his comforting blanket. What you can’t do is cry louder than him to shut him up (though that would make for a great YouTube video).

Perhaps that’s the approach the House of Representatives should take when claiming their newly-won seats next month: Be the responsible parents in a nursery of crabby newborns.

Starting with the border wall. Give it to president petulant.

As much as it would pain Democrats — and delight Republicans and Trumpanzees — it’s time for the House to become the adults in the room. And loudly announce that approach.

The reason is simple math. The shutdown is not only winnowing our already-depleted confidence is public servants; it’s literally harming the people who simply want to do their jobs.

As of tomorrow, we will be one week into the shutdown. And look what it’s cost us: 380,000 “non essential” federal workers received an unwelcome vacation over Christmas in the form of unpaid furloughs. Another 420,000 had to work through the holidays, also unpaid, on a Trump promise they would get a retroactive paycheck when government reopens. Is there any promise he’s ever kept? Particularly involving free labor?

That’s 800,000 Americans held hostage by pride.

And the math gets more grim from there. In late 2017, Standard & Poor’s Global Ratings U.S. economics team calculated that the country loses $6.5 billion a week in lost productivity. We have already eclipsed the cost of Trump’s ransom note of $5 billion for his wall.

The House has an opportunity to hold a mantle it hasn’t grasped in decades: working for people, regardless of party. And considering the ransom amounts to one-half of one percent of the U.S. debt, it’s clear what this stalemate has become — an incessant backseat bickering amounting to “Mom, he’s touching my side of the seat!” on a road trip both parents are already regretting.

So become the parents. And scolding ones, at that.

As the televised “negotiation” between Trump, Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer and a mannequin of Mike Pence underscored, restrained debate does not work, either politically or practically.

What the Democrats need is an unofficial spokesperson who can firebrand with the Pumpkin-in-Chief. Perhaps Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Kamela Harris, Corey Booker, or any of the party’s young turks.

And make it plain that the $5 billion is not for the wall, but to pacify a petulant child. In fact, officially give it a title that says just that. Perhaps the Baby Binket Bill. And in introducing it on the floor, be as cutting as Trump in its introduction. “We know the president will likely spend much of it to silence porn stars and playmates, and that the wall will be as successful as his ‘university’ and ‘charity’ — in Chapter 11. But Americans who believe in working should not be punished by a pathological scam artist.”

Sean Hannity and his colleagues at Pravda News will collectively lose their minds. The Senate would surely change the name of the bill. The president might veto it on the insult alone.

But the statement would have already been made official — and would stick. Trump has always been canny with insults that stick (“Lyin’ Ted, Lil’ Marco). Beat him to the punch. More importantly, become the party that reclaims the high ground. God knows it’s low hanging fruit for the taking.

Swallow your pride, throw the punch, employ the people.

This is the time for resolutions, none of which we keep. Mine, for instance, will be the same I had last year: Take up smoking; try meth; and get even with that hobo.

Dems can go a step further by making (and keeping) just one:

Do your fucking job.

The Argument for Gene Editing

Scott Bowles

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December 1, 2018

From the reaction he solicited, you’d think He Jiankui had genetically modified that giant steer Knickers — then stepped in its 40-pound droppings.

Instead, he “genetically edited” the embryonic genes of twins born to Chinese parents, one stricken with the HIV virus.

The outrage was swift and gasoline soaked. Jiankui faced a scientific backlash that ranged from accusations of playing God to opening the door to boutique babies.

My question: why?

I suppose its natural for humans to fear science. Look at our historical reaction to it: We executed scientists who dared suggest we weren’t the center of the universe, or that epilepsy wasn’t a demon curse. From Y2K to Artificial Intelligence to Genetically Modified Organisms to our president’s rejection of his scientists’ findings on global warming, our instinct appears to be shoot first and learn later.

Bioethicists, in particular, are enjoying their rare day in the media sun. More than 700 incensed scientists packed the 2nd International Summit On Human Genome Editing last week to give Jiankiui the what for.

And, to his credit, Jiankui accepted the heat, apologizing that his work was not peer reviewed beforehand, and acknowledging that details of his (government approved) work should have never been leaked on YouTube.

But the reaction on both sides, while vitriolic, demonstrates the beauty of science. Imagine similar outrage within the same cult of Catholicism or Jehovah’s Witnesses, where pedophilia runs rampant and poses a far graver threat to humanity. Their solution is not to solve the epidemic, but to secretively move priests and elders to a fresh set of victims.

That’s not the scientific way, though the perverted logic tracks similarly. Let’s look at a few criticisms of gene editing.

University of Wisconsin bioethicist Alta Charo, who helped organize the summit, issued the harshest critique of He’s work, calling it “misguided, premature, unnecessary and largely useless.”

“The children were already at virtually no risk of contracting HIV, because it was the father and not the mother who was infected,” she said.

According to a recent UNICEF study, globally, it is estimated that more than 1,000 babies are born with HIV every day. Try comforting those parents with gender-based probabilities.

Next comes the “playing God” argument. Marcy Darnovsky, Ph.D., executive director of the Center for Genetics and Society recently wrote an op-ed piece for National Geographic. This was her summary conclusion paragraph:

“Permitting human germline gene editing for any reason would likely lead to its escape from regulatory limits, to its adoption for enhancement purposes, and to the emergence of a market-based eugenics that would exacerbate already existing discrimination, inequality, and conflict. We need not and should not risk these outcomes.”

The “could” argument is perhaps the most specious defense in human dialectics. The argument that a venture could go wrong negates any risk of venture. Had it held sway years before, would we have eradicated smallpox, malaria, polio and dozens of other diseases I don’t know shit about, but were apparently significant human threats (Rinderpest, Dracunculiasis, Hookworm, Yaws, Lymphatic filariasis, etc.). And the notion that we “should not” allow research is, at best, Orwellian.

Next, boutique babies. What the hell that does that even mean? That we’d scientifically engineer our babies to be taller, stronger, have blue eyes? Who gives a shit? We want ’em shorter and weaker? We socially try to create boutique babies everyday, from elite educations to space camps to “faith-based” initiatives to de-program our kids from being gay. Don’t believe in our love of boutique babies? Walk into a Baby Gap store.

We’re already fully immersed in genetic alterations. More than 40% of the sugar the U.S. consumes has GMOs to battle pesticides — a genetic modification we embrace so bugs don’t eat our food before we do. The E. coli outbreak of romaine lettuce was caused by tainted irrigation water, not test tube tomfoolery.

Finally, and most importantly, the arguments against genetic tinkering are founded on a precariously flimsy assumption: that natural is good. Tsunamis are natural. So are earthquakes. We surely exacerbate natural threats, but we don’t predate them. Nature created AIDS (in 1959, scientists agree, when an HIV-infected chimp bit a man from Léopoldville in the Belgian Congo). Damn you, monkey scientists!

The legitimate criticisms of Jiankui’s discovery are based in practice, not principle. And even he agrees the practice should be more transparent, more peer-reviewed. But there’s no jamming Pandora back in her box.

Oh, and Knickers? He wasn’t genetically modified. Just a big-ass neutered male cow. Let’s try not stepping in his pies.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-FIMvSp01C8

Real Estate: It’s All About Position, Position, Position

Scott Bowles

no comments

November 28, 2018

Well, that’s one way to sell a home.

By all accounts, the Texas house for sale looked like a slam dunk: It came with a fenced yard, gleaming hardwood floors and an open-concept kitchen. Starter house, perfect for a starter couple.

But real estate isn’t exactly booming in Conroe, Texas, perhaps because the city, about 40 miles north of Houston, collects water like an aquarium. It suffered catastrophic flooding last year during Hurrican Harvey, which literally ripped nearby homes from their foundations. Like a lot of homes there, the $230,000 house got less than a thousand views on Houston real estate websites, and fewer than a dozen in-person visits in 40 days.

It’s not an uncommon problem in Conroe, where agents have had to take some unorthodox measures to put homes in the River Plantation subdivision on buyers’ radar. Among their tactics: offering $250 worth of tacos with a purchase, listing expensive-looking houses for $1 to spark bidding wars and personally posing in rooms of unwanted houses while dressed in plush panda suits.

Enter realtor Kristin Gyldenege, who decided to go a step, er, longer.

She hired scantily clad fitness models to pose in the listing photos. In one of the images, a tanned blond woman in knee socks, black panties and an open-backed T-shirt leaned provocatively into the breakfast bar, her back — and back end — provocatively arched.

Other shots showed her climbing the stairs, perching on a kitchen counter and folding towels in the laundry room, all pant-less. Meanwhile, her male counterpart, whose bulging biceps are covered in tattoos, climbed a ladder to change a light bulb and cooked a meal in a cast-iron pan on the stove. Later, he gave the woman — now shirtless and face down — a massage.

Outrage inevitably followed, and offended viewers demanded the listing be removed from the Houston Association of Realtors website, which meekly complied. Even cowardly media outlets caved, describing the pictures instead of displaying them. Apparently, not only is a picture worth a thousand words, but a thousand canceled subscriptions, they figured.

Since The HB doesn’t care about subscriptions, we kindly make a counter-offer to southern media: fuck you. Do some real reporting.

“When I found out I had 100 complaints, I’m like, ‘Sweet, that’s like 10,000 people that have seen it,’ ” Gyldenege (who goes by “pottymouthedagent” on Instagram) told reporters. “I didn’t want anything slutty. I wanted to represent a young couple who was on top of their game all the way around and who had just moved into this great house.”

Within a week, the house averaged six visits a day. The listing racked up more than 20,000 views.

Perhaps unaware of of her pun, Gyldenege was unapologetic, explaining that the owners approved the strategy and her job requires “doing what’s best for my client.

“In the end, that’s what matters.” Hear hear, pottymouth.

The house hasn’t sold yet, but Gyldenege isn’t worried. Square footage is good, the foundation obviously solid, and the mortgage is reasonable: 2,300 condoms a month.

Now that’s how you hold an open house.

The Unfake News

Scott Bowles

no comments

November 25, 2018

Of my earthly possessions, one of my favorites is a USA Today newspaper box where I keep my old clips stored. In the window of the box is a copy of the paper’s first edition, printed on Sept. 15, 1982.

It wasn’t a great day for news. Princess Grace died in a car crash in Monaco. On the same day, a massive charter plane crashed en route from Spain to New York. Somehow, out of 382 passengers, 327 lived.

The paper took a calculated — and vilified — stance on the headline. “Miracle:” it began, “327 survive.”

Competing papers had a field day with us. Between our short stories, color photographs and full-page weather forecasts, we gained a reputation we’d never shake: Journalism Light.

Today, here were the top headlines from the Thanksgiving weekend:

California’s fire contained; search for bodies continues
Trump thanks himself for low oil prices
MLB wants $5,000 donation back after senator’s comments
Amway Coaches Poll: Georgia up to No. 4, Ohio State rises to 6
Snow: 650+ flights axed on post-T’giving Sunday
49ers cut LB arrested on domestic violence charge
Travelers scramble to get home ahead of blizzard
2 killed in shooting outside Orlando pizza eatery

Notice anything missing? Miracles.

Scratch that. Forget miracles. Simply find a positive story in the headlines.

After being eviscerated by The New York Times, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal and innumerable competitors, USA Today retreated from its unofficial editorial policy of putting at least one “bright” — a simply positive story — in its front pages.

What a mistake. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then our decision to mimic the competition’s dour worldview was tantamount to a journalistic blowjob.

Well, screw the “No news is (going to be) good news” theorem. Particularly now, the idea that grimaces trump grins has left the media in lockstep with the nation’s fixation on sadness and anger. If anything, USA Today should make it editorially mandatory to note there is good in the world still.

To that end, The HB offers The Silver Linings Journal, outlining when media coverage is actually warranted:

When this gentleman helped this other gentleman with his tie before a job interview.

When these strangers hugged it out in a food court.

When this pizza hero came to class.

When this group handed out extra bouquets from a formal event to strangers on the street.

When this tipper made a server’s night.

When this person paid the bill for these new parents of twins.

When this commuter hooked it up.

When these strangers with similar fashion taste bumped into each other at the airport.

When this man let this woman have the last generator for her father’s oxygen tank.

When these strangers got seated next to each other on a plane.

When this Chick-Fil-A employee went above and beyond.

When these subway riders split a bottle of wine that rolled out from under the seat.

When this gentleman offered to help this man down the escalator.

When this generous neighbor gave the green light to a young basketball player.

When this driver looked out for his passenger.

When this person sacrificed their umbrella to save a car’s sunroof.

When this anonymous benefactor paid for a stranger’s tires.

When this man offered to split his tips with those in need.

When these ladies had the best girls’ night of all time.

Twitter

Children’s bicycle chained to a lamppost.

When this photographer captured love in one frame.

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Moron Elected

Scott Bowles

no comments

November 12, 2018

There are two types of presidents: those who lead by inspiring, and those who lead by inciting. Try telling the guy below this was the byproduct of political bureaucracy. Don’t worry, Donnie: A remedy is on the way.

The Hollywood Bowles

Those who can't write, edit. Those who can't edit, blog.

Preying on the Grieving

When the Buzz Saw Hits Bone

Under Darkness of M. Night

We Don’t Need No Education

Six Thousand, Nine Hundred Thirty Five and Counting

Pride Goeth

The Argument for Gene Editing

Real Estate: It’s All About Position, Position, Position

The Unfake News

When this gentleman helped this other gentleman with his tie before a job interview.