There are certain strips I don’t fact-check, but today’s Tank McNamara (AMS) left me thinking he must surely be making this up.
However, I Googled it, and, yes, there is a movie in development called “80 For Brady,” starring those women, and, gee golly, it’s even being produced by Tom Brady, which, for those who don’t follow such things, means he’s paying for it.
So it’s got to be good!
According to Hollywood Reporter:
“Inspired by a true story” means there really were four women at the 2017 Super Bowl, and who can argue with that? I’ll bet there were even more than four!
As for it being “a life-changing trip,” why, that’s as old a story as this 1998 Non Sequitur, though we might, instead, want to rewrite the caption on this old classic:
“It stars Tom Brady, dear.”
“I say it’s a chick-flick and I say the hell with it.”
As it happens, I was just thinking about “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” a 1978 Robert Zemeckis/Steven Spielberg comedy about four junior high girls and a couple of hapless tagalong guys who take a weekend-changing trip to 1964’s appearance of the Beatles on Ed Sullivan.
It starred women, but it wasn’t a chick-flick and it was a pretty funny movie, though it sank like a stone at the box office.
Not to discourage Tom, but the Beatles may have been even more popular than he is.
The Beatles didn’t actually appear in it, which preserved the idea that the movie was about the girls and the trip. It would have been ruined if they’d really gotten to meet the Fab Four.
Not to discourage Tom.
It’s his movie, which reminds me of an era in the late 60s of “Let’s Get Stoned And Make A Film,” which gave us Easy Rider, Candy, Putney Swope, and Beyond The Law, the latter produced by Norman Mailer and premiered at my college on an evening when his stars were so drunk that one of them fell off the stage.
Which is about all I remember of the movie.
Still, I hope Tom’s movie does well, because it means that a bunch of money will shift from someone I don’t much like to four people whom I do.
Speaking of the Good Old Days, the current story arc at Zits (KFS) brought to mind a Champion factory outlet in Buffalo or Tonawanda or some place a half-century ago, back when factory outlets really were where clothing companies sold off their imperfect pieces.
Apparently, Champion was doing a lot of customizing, and a fair amount of screwing up, which included bowling shirts but also less campy stuff, where people had to look twice to notice, for instance, that your windbreaker proclaimed you an alumnus of “Nebrasra.”
Our best find was a bunch of polo shirts printed up that saluted a school’s field hockey team, with a uniform number framed in a pair of lacrosse sticks. We bought several!
Factory outlets haven’t been that much fun in decades, but we old guys remember.
We even remember back when the Learning Channel actually featured semi-educational programming, though I’m willing to believe that the Dogs of C Kennel (Creators) are watching the current version, TLC, which has been somewhat adjusted for audience taste.
And makes a good argument for letting some of the planet’s purportedly lesser life forms take the wheel.
Pearls Before Swine (AMS) steps up to join the crusade against people posting their Wordle scores.
As noted before, I’ve tried Wordle and it was fun for a week or two, but, even then, I didn’t post my scores because I couldn’t imagine anyone caring, perhaps because I didn’t care, which is likely why I only played it for a week or two.
Different strokes, and maybe someone should make a movie based on a true story about four women who have a life-changing experience playing Wordle.
Meanwhile, however, when I see that someone I care about has posted on social media, I want to see if they got a promotion, had a baby or found out they had cancer. I don’t want to click to their posting and find out they solved Wordle in three. Or two.
Or at all.
It reminds me of that kid thing we used to say to annoy each other:
Juxtaposition of the Day
My phone company is getting pretty good at catching spam calls, and Capital One has a deal where, when you order something on-line, they provide a spoofed credit card number that, if stolen, can’t be used. So life could be worse.
But the crooks are still out there, some in rags, some in tags and some in velvet gowns, and cybersecurity people seem divided between saying that no password is secure and coming up with ways to create a more secure password that you can’t possibly remember.
My guess is that Mr. Boffo would have lost the bet, because, if he can remember any of them, he probably has fewer than 10.
Like, one, and it’s BOFFO!12, which is eight characters with letters, numbers and a special character. Unbreakable!
So. sure, the messaged security code is probably a good idea, maybe, in some cases, perhaps. But, of course, rarely on the actual sites that demand it.
Still, I don’t mind entering it half as much as I mind news sites that require you to give them your email address before they let you read anything.
Pull the other one, pal.
Speaking of team shirts as we were, Reply All (WPWG) offers a plan that cannot possibly work because it would mean everybody coming in one day and nobody coming in the other.
It has become a point of belligerent pride to call yourself an “introvert,” though publicly proclaiming things seems like something an introvert wouldn’t do, unless you define “introvert” as “anyone who thinks about what others think,” which is everyone, with the exception of a very few truly psychotic individuals and former heads of state.
We are all introverts to some extent.
Some deal with their insecurities by remaining silent, some by never remaining silent.
Far too few by getting it right.