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FROM THE PHONE BOOTH: The Smallest Space in  Hollywood

	FINEFROCK

Two Hats, Zero Cattle:
Golden Dancer Inherits A Wind
by Steve Finefrock - Hollywood Forum [scriptwriter] 4/22/08

Campaigning in Texas, Hillary accused Barack of being ‘all hat, and no cattle’ in a daring risk that no one would return the insult. Since Texas, Barack has been further beatified into Saint Obama, albeit with a smudge or two on his gleamy Galahad armor.  In a front-porch scene between Matthew Harrison Brady and Henry Drummond, from “Inherit the Wind” is a liberal screenwriter’s vision of reality. Drummond is the ACLU darling, in this fictional rendering of the Scopes Monkey Trial, played by Spencer Tracy, to the Brady based on William Jennings Bryan.  The courtroom adversaries are old friends, in this film classic, as they examine why they’ve moved so far apart in the intervening years since their early friendship, and examining the townspeople’s fervent religious street parade earlier that day.

Matthew Harrison Brady: They are seeking something more perfect than what they have.
Henry Drummond: They’re window-shopping for heaven.
Matt: Why do you want to take it away from them? Henry, it’s all they have – like a golden chalice of hope.

  [Henry gets a faraway, winsome glint in his eye]
Henry: Like my Golden Dancer.
Matt: Your what?
Henry: Golden Dancer – she stood in the big side window in the general store … I used to say to myself: If I had Golden Dancer, I’d have everything in the world that I ever wanted. I was about seven years old at the time and a great judge of rocking horses. Golden Dancer had a bright red mane, blue eyes, and she was gold all over, with purple spots, and when the sun hit her stirrups, she was a dazzling sight to behold.  But, she was a week’s wages for my father. So Golden Dancer and I always had a big plate glass window between us. And then … it must have been my birthday – I woke in the morning and there was Golden Dancer at the foot of my bed. My mom had skimped on the groceries, and my father had worked nights for a month. I jumped into the saddle and I started to rock – and IT BROKE, split in two. The wood was rotten. The whole thing was put together with spit and sealing wax. All shine, and no substance. And that’s how I feel about that demonstration I saw tonight, Matt – all glitter and glamour. You say you’re giving people hope; I think you’re stealing their hope.
Matt: Oh, no Henry…
Henry: Aw!  [rising] As long as the prerequisite for that shining paradise is ignorance, bigotry and hate, I say to hell with it.
  [leaves the porch, goes inside, to triumphant music]

Get a feeling of Deja Voodoo?
 
‘Tis joyous fun to turn liberal shibboleths against their intent – “Inherit the Wind” is a seminal film of liberals’ effective use of the entertainment medium, though it does act ‘fair’ in some scenes. This porch scene shows how the Drummonds of the world – then and now – perceive the Brady bunch.  As Barack revealed in his ‘bitter’ banter, or more accurately the ‘cling’ comment: regular folks just ain’t high-octane enough.
 
Barack is our current Golden Dancer: put together with spit and sealing wax, all shine atop rotten wood beneath its gleaming appeal. Slowly – ever so slowwwwwly – the True Spit is showing thru the thin golden veneer.


If he’s all hat and no cattle, what is Hillary?  Neither is very special – no executive experience, no real test of character, especially compared to McCain’s brave, decisive action during a massive flightdeck fire on the USS Forrestal [google it for YouTube viewing].  Her shiny hat is of a slightly earlier vintage, but it’s nothing noteworthy.  Her Bullets-over-Bosnia act has belatedly revealed her longrunning spit-&-wax subsurface reality.
 
Barack is the all glitter and glamour darling – leading the polls and the media’s adoration, the Golden Dancer of male persuasion. Hillary is the Silver Sister for now, and of course it looks like that old motto – ‘You don’t win silver, you lose gold’ – will come into play. No consolation prize for Silver Sister. She, too, is all shine – maybe less shine than BO – and no substance.
 
When voters jump into either saddle, and put their weight into the stirrups, the rotten wood will reveal its true worth.  That won’t happen in the primary, though a bit of revelation is occurring, thanks to the GOP game completion rendering conflict-seeking journalists into conflict-hungry attack dogs snarling toward the remaining two candidates of the left.
 
That joyous entertainment to our thrills will end.
 
Make book, with Vegas odds, that the hatefest will turn toward Mac-Attacks. During that time, some more spit will be showing.  The stirrups will reveal – NO CATTLE IN THESE HERE PARTS. Neither has run so much as a taco stand or weekend carnival ride. Met a budget or turned a profit for shareholders. Hired a staff beyond legislative aides.  Stood a test of aviation fuel fire like McCain. Flown in real combat, endured POW status [only a part of his decision-making cred], carried the command burden of the safety of uniformed fighting professionals.
 
Do we want The Oval to be commanded by either Golden Dancer or Silver Sister? I’ll take the wily old fart first, foremost and always – compared to these two sleazy spitsters, Mac’s pure platinum with a bullet. A stunning and persuasive contrast with Bullets Over Bosnia, and Messin’ in Marin County. Conservatives must energetically work to make certain that the voters’ platinum-plated election day message is loudly understood:
 
Eat Spit And Die. ExileStreet

copyright 2008 Steve Finefrock

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