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FRIDAY Ain’t Nuttin’ Like a Dame Old Male Reading Old Mail by Steve Finefrock - Hollywood Forum [scriptwriter] 5/4/07

FROM THE PHONE BOOTH: The Smallest Space in  Hollywood

Over two years ago, a dubious note came into my e-mail, and it has finally rung true.  A gal of considerable merit, and academic background on the subject [though I was yet to learn that ‘cred’ on the matter], noted that the nation wasn’t serious about the war on terror.  That it might take another 911 to wake them up.  That it was possibly hopeless.

Contributor Steve Finefrock Founder of Hollywood Forum, a speaker-bureau and panel-discussion vehicle to "Bring the Potomac to the Palisades" on issues that overlap politics and culture with the Hollywood film-TV influence on such national concerns. His scripts have addressed politics [including a TV series pilot/bible package about state political combat, called "A State of the Union"], hazardous materials [from twelve years in emergency management, including six years managing FEMA's Superfund curriculum for hazmat], terrorism, equestrian reincarnation, serial murderer killing journalists in the nation's capitol, and fantasy about time-wasters. Finefrock is proprietor of PhoneBooth: The Smallest Space in  Hollywood... [go to Finefrock index]

Naw, said I; bit by tiny bit, the nation will come around.

Twenty-eight months later, that gal was right.  Still is.  Sadly.  Morosely.  Unfortunately.
 
The web is replete with articles on this subject, and the GOPsters have lost the fight by losing the will to fight, abandoning Dubya as so many abandoned that even more substantive fighter in ’38 and ’39, Winston Churchill.  Then there was an excuse: exhaustion both moral and physical, as well as fiscal, from the Great War.  Today, our economy is vibrant, our military losses are few, even to this day, compared to WW-One losses which Britain still suffered in their seared memories.
 
In older, less-sensitive days, my gal-pal would be dubbed a dame: a woman of womanly capacities and yet not wimpish or shrinking.  Maggie Thatcher was a dame, as were some film stars, such as Mae West and Myrna Loy and Kathryn Hepburn, and her ‘cousin’ Audrey, as well as a number in my own family.  It’s a “bad” moniker today, but it comes to mind on remembering that Broadway musical hit, “Ain’t Nothin’ Like A Dame” – sailors singing and bell-bottoms prancing on the stage, the audience in fully syncopation with the sentiment.
 
Gold is where you find it – that old e-mail message was prescient, and sadly typed, and arrogantly denied upon its reception in my e-mail box.  That dame is going big places, working with big people, with a Big Mission.  I thought then it was bronze, much less silver in its Olympic view, but it was pure gold.  Still in my in-box, teasing me for twenty-six months.  
 
“Naw” has turned sadly to a “probably” – I only hope to keep up my sustenance for hope and wishful thinking that she ultimately will be wrong.  There’s still time, as my anti-jihadists are rising, some with my pass-along of op-eds and  video links I get by my own research, and tons given me by e-mail from another Dame, of Hebrew descent.  There are dames everywhere.  We just can’t use the term.
 
But, I just did!  Damned the “dames” – or its banishment – and full speed ahead, once America denounces the Aunt Murtha brigade and the Pelosi pontificators.
 
See, I still have hope, that the dame in my in-box might yet be wrong.  And I know her well enough to conclude that she hopes she will be proven wrong. CRO

copyright 2007 Steve Finefrock

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