Cranky Lesbian - Page 14 - Look what the homosexuals have done to me!

Bea Arthur, Betty White and Rue McClanahan in a scene from Guess Who's Coming to the Wedding? — *The Golden Girls* often tackled tough social issues, like cheese ball theft.

Dorothy’s legendary animus toward ex-husband Stanley Zbornak, the subject of “Guess Who’s Coming to the Wedding?” (S1E02), was first established in The Golden Girls’ pilot episode, “The Engagement.” After describing their shotgun wedding to Rose, she bitterly detailed the dissolution of their 38-year marriage, and how he left her “for a stewardess that he met on a business trip to Hawaii.”

DOROTHY: It was her first flight. They said ‘On arrival, give the passengers a lei.’ She got confused, he got lucky, and they now live on Maui. Oh, it’s really wonderful. A 65-year-old man with gout learning to windsurf. I hope he trips on his thongs and falls into a volcano.

Let’s pause here to engage in the time-honored tradition of puzzling over a Dorothy/Stan timeline that never made sense. The elder Zbornaks were roughly the same age. Their first child was conceived when Dorothy was in high school. If they were in their mid-sixties at the start of the series, their children Kate and Michael would’ve been nearly 50. (That would also complicate Sophia’s age, which was 80 in the pilot.) A shotgun wedding over 38 years ago would put their eldest at 38 years old, plus the length of their parents’ estrangement. Instead, Kate and brother Michael are in their mid-to-late twenties circa their first appearances, and Dorothy’s said to be in her early sixties during season seven.

Goddess of Love: I’d Like to Buy a Plot

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 18, 2022

In TV Movies

Vanna White’s hair was later dyed and worn by Billy Ray Cyrus.

Only a decade rooted in such material excess as the ’80s, and fueled by as much cocaine, could have given us something like Goddess of Love. How this gem escaped my attention over the years is anyone’s guess. But when Lisa, a commenter here, mentioned it, all it took was one look at the trailer and I knew I had to watch it. Now, having done so, I encourage all true fans of garbage to do the same.

This 1988 NBC telefilm opens with a title card reading “Mt. Olympus… Ages Ago.” A chagrined Zeus (John Rhys-Davies) attempts to discipline his daughter, Aphrodite (Vanna White), as wife Hera (Betsy ‘Mrs. Voorhees’ Palmer) looks on. It’s a familiar situation, you can tell, for all three of them. Before he can list her offenses, Aphrodite interrupts to chide her father for not using her preferred name, Venus.

The Golden Girls: “The Engagement” Episode Recap

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 16, 2022

In Friends of Dorothy Z.

Sophia expresses what will become her typical Blanche refrain on *The Golden Girls*.

Pilot episodes are tricky endeavors, particularly for sitcom writers. In 1985, when The Golden Girls premiered, they had just under 25 minutes (these days it’s 22 on network television) in which to introduce characters, provide an appropriate amount of exposition, and make us laugh enough to tune in again the next week. The Golden Girls‘ pilot episode, “The Engagement” (S1E01), written by series creator Susan Harris, accomplishes all three of those goals in style.

Helmed by the legendary Jay Sandrich, who directed 119 episodes of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, “The Engagement” benefits from the long and laughter-filled relationships viewers already had with three-fourths of its cast. Bea Arthur, Rue McClanahan and Betty White not only had a slew of hit series between them, McClanahan had famously costarred with White on Mama’s Family and with Arthur on Maude—their comedic chemistry already sizzled.

Killer Bees (1974): Gloria Swanson is Big, It’s the Killer Bees That Got Small

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 14, 2022

In TV Movies

Gloria Swanson’s the queen in *Killer Bees*.

The killer bee genre is a crowded one, with films like The Swarm (1978, starring Michael Caine in his “Sure, whatever, pay me in cash” phase); 1995’s Deadly Invasion: The Killer Bee Nightmare; and, perhaps most famously, My Girl (1991). I could go on and on. What makes this killer bee telefilm, creatively titled Killer Bees, so special, is its cast. Forget Kate Jackson and Lillian Gish, a memorable pairing in Thin Ice (1981). Here we have Kate Jackson and Gloria Swanson.

It opens with a pushy salesman pulling up to a filling station. The attendant (John Getz of Blood Simple) warns him not to trespass onto the neighboring Van Bohlen Winery property, but he does so anyway, and is summarily killed by bees. Forgive me, I’m being flippant. Technically, a swarm follows him into his car (it would’ve been funny if they had voice boxes like Richard Romanus in Night Terror), resulting in a crash and an enormous explosion. “I told him. I told the darn fool,” the gas station attendant mutters. Must happen all the time.

Thank You for Being a Friend

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 12, 2022

In Friends of Dorothy Z.

The Golden Girls premiered in 1985, when I was two years old. My earliest memories—of life in general, not The Golden Girls specifically—begin in 1986. That year I spent nearly a month in the hospital with inflammatory bowel disease. You wouldn’t think those disparate things, a disease and a sitcom, have anything meaningful in common. You would be wrong.

Each has been in my life forever. My mom always watched The Golden Girls, which meant that I always watched The Golden Girls. Perhaps more importantly, in 1992, as the series concluded its seven-season run, illness had again derailed my life. I was partway through the lengthy process of a three-stage total proctocolectomy with j-pouch reconstruction. It wasn’t a happy time. Third grade was one of many that mostly went on without me.

There were yet more hospital stays, and long recovery periods spent confined to bed or stuck at home on the couch, a pillow clutched to my stomach. The isolation meant a lot of reading, sometimes a book or two per day. Each Saturday I looked forward to The Golden Girls and the escape it provided. The characters felt like family, and so did the actresses. Betty White even looked like the shiksa version of my great-grandmother (minus the heavy makeup and costume jewelry), who had died two years earlier.

How to Support Us on Prime Day

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 12, 2022

In Crass Consumerism

Today and tomorrow are Prime Day(s) at Amazon, of which we’re an affiliate. On these or any other days, if you’d like to show support for what we do here, please consider using our link before making your purchase(s). The commissions are small but but help with hosting costs. We also hosts ads like this at the bottom of our posts; clicking through those also helps.

If you’re already a Prime member, you can receive a $12.50 store credit applied to your account when you purchase a $50 (or greater) Amazon eGift Card. Apply the coupon/promotion code EGCPRIME22 at checkout. I just did so myself (when sending myself a gift card) and this came up afterward:

Congratulations on your gift card purchase. Your first Prime Day gift card purchase qualifies you for an Amazon.com credit. A $12.50 promotional credit will be automatically applied to your account and emailed to you within two (2) days after order completion. Offer has a limit of one promotional credit per Amazon.com Prime account.

Thanks for not pelting me with rotten produce for posting this!

Courtney Thorne-Smith is a Murderous Dairy Princess in Midwest Obsession

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 11, 2022

In TV Movies

We’re not watching outtakes from *Drop Dead Gorgeous*. This is all *Midwest Obsession*.

Try as the actors might, the only authentic performances in Midwest Obsession (1995) are those of its farm animals. That is the fault of the screenplay primarily, but I also blame the director, the producers, and possibly even society. (Were viewers not the ones demanding an endless supply of grisly movies-of-the-week during this era?) It must have been demoralizing heading to the set each day, trying to will a story this grim into existence.

We begin with a murder in a parking lot. The editing is abrupt and unsatisfying, leaving you less frightened than confused. The lighting doesn’t help; several scenes are too dark to fully keep track of what’s happening. It’s a problem that intensifies as the story unfolds. When our murderess loses control of herself, as happens now and then, the distorted shots and frenetic cuts are more suggestive of a Soundgarden music video than a movie. (The film’s fashions also aged poorly, which some of you might enjoy. If you’re in that camp, check out Gabrielle Carteris in Seduced and Betrayed, also from ’95.)

Wimbledon Ends with a Whimper, Not a Bang

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 10, 2022

In Tennis

“I have a dinner date with Dame Maggie Smith after this.”

My excitement at the start of this year’s unusually controversial Wimbledon carried into the second week. Even without Serena Williams and Iga Świątek, who suffered early-round losses, there were intriguing matches to take in. (There was also the matter of Roger Federer appearing at the Parade of Champions, dressed in formal wear that was winkingly accentuated by white tennis shoes.) But the tournament has culminated in a championship weekend unlike any I can remember: I don’t particularly care about the outcome of either match.

On the women’s side, there’d been a sense of inevitability for the last week or so that this was Elena Rybakina’s for the taking. Wimbledon had banned players representing Russia and Belarus as a result of the Ukrainian invasion, but the ban didn’t take into account that matters of nationality are hopelessly tangled in tennis. Players with the option of playing for multiple countries (and there are many such wanderers) align themselves with whatever nation offers them the greatest support in developing their talent.

Naomi Osaka and men’s semifinalist Cam Norrie are prominent examples of players whose similar decisions greatly boosted their prospects. And now Rybakina’s the global poster girl for this phenomenon. She’s a Russian who circumvented the ban by way of a (rather dubious) affiliation with Kazakhstan established four years ago. Whether you find it laughable, maddening, or both, it’s tennis in a nutshell. (It’s also Russia in a nutshell. Parts of my family came to the US from Imperial Russia, but if you want to be more specific, they were from places like Ukraine.)

Privacy Policy

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 9, 2022

In Privacy Policy

Programming Note: This isn’t a new post! I apologize to subscribers who receive an automatic email notification about it. I’m doing a bit of housekeeping and switching this page’s designation to ‘post’ so that I can more easily move the link from the top menu to the side menu. Its URL remains unchanged.

Methotrexate Patients and Post-Dobbs Fear

By Cranky Lesbian

On July 5, 2022

In Complaints

Apologies for the conversational detour here—new film or TV content is coming later this week. There is something I need to rant about, and this is as good a place as any to do it.

For the second time in two years, Republican lunacy is scaring autoimmune disease patients. You might recall the great hydroxychloroquine stupidity of 2020, a craze eventually replaced by mass consumption of ivermectin. What we have now is a little different: Confusion over the continued availability of methotrexate.

In the case of Plaquenil, some patients really did face shortages. I was fortunate: my supply never ran out, even as idiots like my uncle (physically healthy, mentally not so much) attempted to order a side of hydroxychloroquine with their MyPillows. My methotrexate refill isn’t due for another month, and hopefully there are no disruptions. I’ll provide an update once my prescription’s in hand.

It will be weeks before my next rheumatology appointment, and who knows what anecdata the office will have to share by then. My first opportunity to speak with a prescriber came today, at a routine GI appointment. To the best of my doctor’s knowledge, none of his patients have yet encountered difficulties obtaining methotrexate. He has seen some of the same “the end is nigh” tweets as me, and we both felt there was something incomplete about at least a couple of those stories.