The Bloody Doors Off

Mel Brooks is gonna write and EP History of the World, Part II.

Goddamn, I’m torn.

I loved the original.

Before I realized just how un-PC it is/was.

In spite of that.

I mean. Maybe we’ll get more Hitler On Ice.

And I hate to be the one to say it, but his best days are behind him. Mel wrote some great stuff. Young Frankenstein is in my top ten. Harvey Korman’s Hedley Lemar in Blazing Saddles.

But his later stuff. There’s a reason there isn’t a Robin Hood: Men In Tights musical in the West End.

And Part I was hit and miss.

Wow.

This is what I’m writing about tonight?

Fuck, my brain is empty.

I mean. I started watching football.

Before I switched to The Voice.

I’m not sure that’s any better.

I wish that was a segue to a new topic.

The reason guts of this post.

Nope.

That’s how bereft I am tonight.

Have I mentioned my frustration with my bottom plate?

Think I did.

Can’t be bothered to read back over the past few posts.

Yes. I have. I remember now.

Should I be worried about my memory? I’m forgetting little things. Or taking far too long to recall others. I’ve walked into a room not remembering what drew me there.

Sorry. Got distracted.

Anyway.

Until later.

May the Schwartz be with you.