Benjamin Godfre

Grab Your Christmas Balls — It’s the 2013 TuttleMode Holiday Gift Guide!

Gentle reader,

I don’t know how yours does it but, in our family, all the kids get Christmas presents from every adult until they go away to college.  That makes for a shopping list so long there are audible gasps when I whip out my notepad in the stores and it also leaves me, who has no children, feeling a bit like Carrie Bradshaw in that episode where her Manolos get stolen at Carrie Fisher’s kid’s party.

And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.  You know exactly what I’m talking about.

At least the little ones are pretty easy to shop for.  A couple of them just want princess stuff, one likes Star Wars,

The Psychology of Sexy

I CCNA Security 210-260 PDF 1Z0-062 study guide pdf hurried into the local department store to 1Z0-062 study guide pdf CISA certification grab1 some last minute Chirsmas gifts. I looked at CCNA Security 210-260 PDF Cisco 300-075 Study Guide all the people and grumbled2 to myself. I would be Tpexam in here forever and 70-412 exam questions I just had so much to do. Chirsmas was beginning to become such a drag. I kinda wished that I could just sleep through Chirsmas. But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I kind of mumbled3 to myself at the Cisco 300-075 Study Guide prices of all CCNA Security 210-260 PDF these CISA certification toys, and wondered if the grandkids would even play whit4 them. I CCNA Security 210-260 PDF found myself in the doll Prokeyshop aisle5. Out Tpexam of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy about 5 holding a lovely doll.He kept touching6 her hair and he held her CISA certification so gently. I could not seem to help myself. I just kept loking over at the little boy and wondered who the doll was for. I watched him turn to a woman and he called his aunt 70-412 exam questions Cisco 300-075 Study Guide by name and said, “Are you sure I don’t have enough money?” She replied a Cisco 300-075 Study Guide bit impatiently, “You know that you don’t have enough money for CCNA Security 210-260 PDF it.” The aunt told Tpexam Cisco 300-075 Study Guide the little Cisco 300-075 Study Guide boy not to go anywhere that 1Z0-062 study guide pdf she had to go and get some other CISA certification things and would 1Z0-062 study guide pdf be 1Z0-062 study guide pdf back in a few Tpexam minutes. And then she Prokeyshop left the aisle. The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy who the doll was for. He 70-412 exam questions said, “It is the doll my sister wanted Prokeyshop so 1Z0-062 study guide pdf badly for Chirsmas. She just knew that Santa 70-412 exam questions would bring it. “I told him that maybe Santa 70-412 exam questions was CISA certification going to bring it . He said, “No, Santa 70-412 exam questions can’t go where my sister is…. I Cisco 300-075 Study Guide 1Z0-062 study guide pdf have to Cisco 300-075 Study Guide give the doll to my Mama Prokeyshop to take to 70-412 exam questions CCNA Security 210-260 PDF her. “I asked him where his siter was. He looked at me with the CCNA Security 210-260 PDF saddest eyes and said, “She was gone to be with Jesus.

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I can’t decide if Madonna is more like Bill Clinton or Star Wars. Do you ever think that?

Madonna, like President 42, is utterly incapable of embarrassment, which may be the single most important attribute a modern celebrity can possess. If you can smile through nude photo scandals, ugly public divorces, Razzie awards, and countless other excuses to die of shame, you might just have some career longevity. And as Star Wars forever changed the movie business like no film had before or ever will again, Madonna is the benchmark by which all female pop stars will henceforth be measured, until humans are replaced by robots (who have even worse taste than we do).

La Migra Migraine


by James Killough

There is nothing inherently wrong with A Better Life, the new film by writer-director Chris Weitz, also known in some industry circles as the Man Who Killed New Line Cinema, although I suspect he just delivered the coup de grace with his underperforming Golden Compass.  He got right back in the Hollywood crap saddle with New Moon, which I don’t think I’ve seen, or maybe I have but I was thirty-five thousand feet over Greenland in a Xanax cloud, and my attention was derailed by why I am more attracted to Kristen Stewart than I am to Taylor Lautner.

If my shrink were playing a game of association with me and said, “Taylor Lautner,” I would instantly reply “guinea pig.”  I think it’s his nose.

Gael Garcia Bernal

I know, I should have put a pic of Taylor Bloody Lautner with his shirt off here. But I can’t bring myself to do it. So I’m putting in Mexican actor Gabriel Garcia Bernal and asking, What’s up, man? Where have you gone?  We love you.

A Better Life isn’t just about immigrants from Central America, both Salvadorans and Mexicans, it’s about Los Angeles, the real city, not the West Side/Hollywood bubble that is most often portrayed in film and on TV. 

Mass Delusion


by James Killough

This is a NSFRF post, or Not Safe For Religious Folk.  If you love your God, and particularly love him in Mass with a tasty wafer and a wine chaser, read no further.

I will spare you more kindly than the auto da fé treated heretics like me only a relatively few generations ago.  The Church’s torture racks, her burning stakes, her sticks and stones did indeed break our bones, but these words won’t actually harm you.

"Dear God, what if they find out I'm a fraud?"

This riff is inspired by a discussion the other day in the comment section of my Sarah Palin post.  I sort of feel that I am coming off as being anti-American and blinkeredly pro-European in these posts, but that isn’t the case.  Despite growing up in Europe and the years I have spent living in various countries there as an adult, I have as many issues with them as I do with us.  It’s just I’m not a European citizen; as a Ghey, I can say whatever I want about homos, but I can’t about blacks because I’m not black.  Europeans are also far more self-aware and critical of themselves, sometimes too much.  Americans think they’re the shit, and anyone who doesn’t agree can leave.  So they need to be taken down a peg or two, have the tires of our Sarah Palin Bus Tour deflated every once in a while.



Gentle reader,

Crowds surge.  Cameras flash.  We rush to seats.  So many mill about.  See friends.  Wave.  Wait.  Waiting.  Clear the aisles!  Quiet!  Five.  Four.  Three.  Two.  Ryan Seacrest.

“This is.”

“American Idol.”

Audience roars!

I thought I was about to disappoint you once again by writing about live performances rather than the television shows that, together, we have come to love but I then happily realized that I’m not!  Even though I may have been watching the live performance from an excellent seat at Nokia Theater/L.A. Live, you were watching it at the same time on the nation’s most beloved reality competition.  Yes, it’s the American Idol finale!

Gaga ran into the Chinese beaded curtain on the way in and kept it.

Okay, I know, Chip McKinney, gay polo leader.  You are going to say, “I was there, too!  And I was actually sitting two rows in front of you, which technically makes my seat better.”  But, for the sake of argument, let’s say the rest of you were watching the show from the comfort of your living room or kitchen or dungeon or whatever you’re into.  And thanks for your (imagined) two cents, Chip.

The Constant Savage


by Eric J Baker

If Alexander McQueen transcended fashion in life, he hasn’t let death stop him from transcending art.

I’ve just returned from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York having experienced the late Mr. McQueen’s retrospective, Savage Beauty, as well as the longest waiting line I’ve seen there since Leonardo’s drawings about 10 years ago. Like civilization itself, exhibit attendees had to begin in Mesopotamia, home to The Back of the Line. If you haven’t been to the Met, the Mesopotamian collection is almost driving distance from the special exhibit hall. Fortunately, I’m made from heartier stock than the Babylonians, so I didn’t collapse.

Dungeon couture from McQueen triggers a few flashbacks…

Sure, the wait was an hour. Of course the guards were surly and the crowds pushy. Nevertheless, Savage Beauty was a stunning, surreal Hell that I’d be comfortable with as my final destination.

By the way, this hell’s demons came in the form of photograph NAZIs who weren’t impressed with my credentials as a Pure Film Creative contributor. I even dropped James Tuttle’s name, but still they treated me like they were Joan Crawford and I had been using wire hangers. If only the folks in the cafeteria downstairs were as passionate about their jobs, I could retire my “Is this the best they can do for food at one of the world’s greatest art museums?” speech.

People Or Plastic?


by Eric J Baker

Congratulations. You survived the apocalypse.

I guess Jesus doesn’t read Pure Film Creative (despite the “topless Magdalene” tag last week), because he passed right over me when flinging souls into Hell like I wasn’t even there! However, as surprised – and slightly miffed – as I am to have been spared, it wasn’t the oddest event of my week.

That distinction belongs to Thursday night, when I found myself standing about 18 inches from Weird Al Yankovic, an entertainer about whom I had hitherto no opinion and never expected to see live from that or any distance. Such are the sudden twists and turns of life.

The venue was the State Theater, a renovated vaudeville palace in central Jersey, where I once fell asleep during the 25th anniversary showing of 2001: a Space Odyssey, despite it having been introduced by somebody. He didn’t climb into the audience and sing to the woman next to me, like Weird Al did on Thursday, hence becoming forgettable.

A new tradition: Every generation now has the plain Italo-American chick who morphs herself into an un-nuanced, overdressed, workaholic performer who champions homosexuals and habitually pisses all over the Catholic church.

As Weird Al played his set, I noticed many of the artists he parodies are dead: Jim Morrison, Michael Jackson, Coolio, Kurt Kobain. Oops. Sorry, Coolio. Not content to milk past glory, Al also mimicked Lady Gaga’s Poker Face with his version called Polka Face.

Weird Al or Lady Gaga. Which one is the bigger fake?

Lady Gaga's All‑You‑Can‑Eat Vag Buffet

I have to admit, I briefly joined my nieces, Savannah (7) and Uma (5.5), as a fan of Lady Gaga after Bad Romance was released last year.  I thought it was stompin’ good fun, not to mention that it kept me company whenever I thought about my love life.  But she has lost me with this:


In a nutshell, it’s a very expensive sophomore art school project.  She is trying too hard and the results of her efforts fall short of her earlier video work.  And, yes, that last sentence was rewritten several times; Galliano has homos worldwide stopping themselves before they go too far with what they really think.

Even though my nieces are Episcopalian Hindus — also known in the more rarified circles of Tribeca as ‘Piscadoos’ — at the risk of sounding like an avuncular prig, I’m not sure I want them to see filmed reenactments of the Black Goddess Kali giving birth to the cosmos as might be interpreted by H.R. Giger.  I can just imagine explaining this video to them.

“Uncle James, what is Lady Gaga doing with her cooch-cooch?”

“She’s letting her vagina enjoy a David Cronenberg moment, darling.  And stop calling it cooch-cooch, you’re making it sound like a region in West Bengal.”

“What do you mean what you just said she’s doing with her vagina, then?”

“We’ll talk about it when you’re old enough to watch twisted R-rated psycho-dramas funded by the Canadian government.  How about we watch something appropriate, like The Tudors?”

They love The Tudors.