“It was a woman who drove me to drink, and I never even had the decency to thank her.”
“I like children. Preferably broiled or fried.”
Happy 130th birthday today to the funniest misanthrope who ever lived, William Claude Dunkenfield – aka W. C. Fields – born in 1880 in Darby, Pennsylvania. He suffered through a painful and abused childhood, learned to juggle, beat up his father and ran away to join Vaudeville. He became a star, developing a cynical, put-upon persona that was somehow endearing. When movies came along, he joined up, actually working in silent film with D.W. Griffith. But movies needed to talk before they could fully embrace Fields’ unique perspective on humanity. His distinctive nasal delivery became his trademark – instantly recognizable, mumbling asides and witticisms that gained him a place in the hearts of curmudgeons everywhere.
He wrote his own scripts – under such pseudonyms as Mahatma Kane Jeeves and Charles Bogle. He made a few masterpieces, notably ‘The Bank Dick’ (1940). But my favorite Fields is the kinder, gentler Fields who appeared in ‘It’s A Gift’ (1934) as put-upon Grocery store owner Harold Bisonette, who dreams of moving his family to California and tending a grove of orange trees. When he finally arrives, he discovers that the property he purchased sight unseen is a worthless and dilapidated lot, and seeks solace in a flask of whiskey.
“You’re drunk”, scolds a stuffy looking banker.
“Yeah, and you’re crazy”, responds Fields nonchalantly. “But I’ll be sober in the morning, and you’ll be crazy the rest of your life.”
You gotta love a man with a philosophy like that.
Click here for a flask of Fields in ‘It’s A Gift’:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2LfQ_jCeTs
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
THE LAND OF MILK ‘N MONEY
January 28 . . .
The City of Beverly Hills became formally recognized by the Golden State of California on this day in 1914, and property values were never the same again.
In 1844 a Spanish woman named Maria Rita Valdez managed to score one of the great deals of the century when she acquired controlling interest of 4,500 acres of tumbleweeds, sagebrush, sheep meadows and lizards for a grand total of $17.50. In 1912, a group of German investors decided to build a hotel – dubbed the Hotel Beverly Hills – on the property to attract investors. By sheer luck and fortuitous timing, the fledgling film industry arrived a few months later, and business at the hotel was booming. When movie royalty Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks decided to built their home Pickfair on a hill overlooking the hotel, the town’s reputation was made. Within a few years, John Barrymore, Charles Chaplin, Greta Garbo and the rest of Hollywood royalty had nestled into cozy coexistence in paradise.
Commemorate the illustrious real estate transaction with ‘Down and Out in Beverly Hills’ (1986), Paul Mazursky’s potent and funny satire of Southern California customs and lifestyles. Based on the French film ‘Boudou Saved From Drowning’, ‘Down and Out’ follows the tale of a homeless, eccentric but charismatic bum (Nick Nolte) who manages to get adopted by a typically atypical Beverly Hills family, headed by wire hanger manufacturer Richard Dreyfuss and his blowsy wife, Bette Midler. Mazursky skewers the Southern California lifestyle with both wit and compassion, and Nolte reveals previously unknown comicedic talents in his role as the manipulative but amiable bum.
The City of Beverly Hills became formally recognized by the Golden State of California on this day in 1914, and property values were never the same again.
In 1844 a Spanish woman named Maria Rita Valdez managed to score one of the great deals of the century when she acquired controlling interest of 4,500 acres of tumbleweeds, sagebrush, sheep meadows and lizards for a grand total of $17.50. In 1912, a group of German investors decided to build a hotel – dubbed the Hotel Beverly Hills – on the property to attract investors. By sheer luck and fortuitous timing, the fledgling film industry arrived a few months later, and business at the hotel was booming. When movie royalty Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks decided to built their home Pickfair on a hill overlooking the hotel, the town’s reputation was made. Within a few years, John Barrymore, Charles Chaplin, Greta Garbo and the rest of Hollywood royalty had nestled into cozy coexistence in paradise.
Commemorate the illustrious real estate transaction with ‘Down and Out in Beverly Hills’ (1986), Paul Mazursky’s potent and funny satire of Southern California customs and lifestyles. Based on the French film ‘Boudou Saved From Drowning’, ‘Down and Out’ follows the tale of a homeless, eccentric but charismatic bum (Nick Nolte) who manages to get adopted by a typically atypical Beverly Hills family, headed by wire hanger manufacturer Richard Dreyfuss and his blowsy wife, Bette Midler. Mazursky skewers the Southern California lifestyle with both wit and compassion, and Nolte reveals previously unknown comicedic talents in his role as the manipulative but amiable bum.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
MO' ART WITH MOZART
January 27 . . .
He was the ultimate child prodigy, the son of a stern taskmaster father who played the violin and a doting mother. As a toddler, he mastered the piano by two and composed his first minuet by four; by 1780, he had been decorated by the Pope, played for the King of England, and had proposed marriage to Marie Antionette (who turned him down because he was only eight at the time). He was born this day in 1756 in Salzburg, Austria, and was christened Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangug Theophilus. But we know him better as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, arguably the greatest and most prodigious composer who ever lived.
Mozart was popular in his life, but he had his detractors – most significantly the envious Antonio Salieri, his rival composer at court. Salieri had talent, discipline and devotion; Mozart had genius and the ability to toss off masterpieces seemingly without effort. Salieri envied Mozart, perhaps even loathed him. But did he hate him enough to commit murder?
That’s the premise for director Milos Forman’s excellent movie based on Peter Schaffer’s successful play, 'Amadeus' (1984), which swept the Oscars that year, winning Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor. Part biopic, part musical, part mystery, Amadeus celebrates Mozart’s life, music and times – bringing it all magnificently to life. Tom Hulce is a totally fresh and unexpected Mozart – called ‘Wolfy’ by his wife – giddy, fun-loving, bawdy and with a laugh like a hyena on helium. His rival Salieri is played with petulant indignation by F. Murray Abraham, who won a Best Actor Oscar for his tortured portrait of a man who devotes his life and art to God and can’t understand why his Master bestows His gifts on a hedonistic oaf like Mozart.
The film does take liberties; the whole Salieri murder conspiracy, while a very effective hook, is fiction. In all probability, Mozart died of typhoid fever, not poison, at thirty-five. Stillo, Amadeus is an enthralling rumination on genius – both on those to whom it is seemingly randomly bestowed and on those who suffer and sacrifice and never attain it. A vibrant, invigorating, lushly executed modern masterpiece.
Click here for a taste:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Du-rD2QL1Pc
He was the ultimate child prodigy, the son of a stern taskmaster father who played the violin and a doting mother. As a toddler, he mastered the piano by two and composed his first minuet by four; by 1780, he had been decorated by the Pope, played for the King of England, and had proposed marriage to Marie Antionette (who turned him down because he was only eight at the time). He was born this day in 1756 in Salzburg, Austria, and was christened Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangug Theophilus. But we know him better as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, arguably the greatest and most prodigious composer who ever lived.
Mozart was popular in his life, but he had his detractors – most significantly the envious Antonio Salieri, his rival composer at court. Salieri had talent, discipline and devotion; Mozart had genius and the ability to toss off masterpieces seemingly without effort. Salieri envied Mozart, perhaps even loathed him. But did he hate him enough to commit murder?
That’s the premise for director Milos Forman’s excellent movie based on Peter Schaffer’s successful play, 'Amadeus' (1984), which swept the Oscars that year, winning Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor. Part biopic, part musical, part mystery, Amadeus celebrates Mozart’s life, music and times – bringing it all magnificently to life. Tom Hulce is a totally fresh and unexpected Mozart – called ‘Wolfy’ by his wife – giddy, fun-loving, bawdy and with a laugh like a hyena on helium. His rival Salieri is played with petulant indignation by F. Murray Abraham, who won a Best Actor Oscar for his tortured portrait of a man who devotes his life and art to God and can’t understand why his Master bestows His gifts on a hedonistic oaf like Mozart.
The film does take liberties; the whole Salieri murder conspiracy, while a very effective hook, is fiction. In all probability, Mozart died of typhoid fever, not poison, at thirty-five. Stillo, Amadeus is an enthralling rumination on genius – both on those to whom it is seemingly randomly bestowed and on those who suffer and sacrifice and never attain it. A vibrant, invigorating, lushly executed modern masterpiece.
Click here for a taste:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Du-rD2QL1Pc
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
AUSSIE WHAT YOU MEAN
January 26 . .
Today is Australia Day. Watch ‘Crocodile Dundee’ (1980) if you like – that’s perfectly OK, mate – but I’d suggest a radically different view of Down Under: Nicolas Roeg’s visually mesmerizing and haunting ‘Walkabout’ (1979). An in-depth look at the harsh glories of the Australian Outback, ‘Walkabout’ is a film unlike any other, visually seductive and dreamlike in its approach. Director Roeg has an uncanny ability to readjust the viewer’s internal clock and cultural compass.
This poetic story of two English school children (Luc Roeg and Jenny Agutter) lost in the outback after their father abandons them and kills himself plays like a langerous dream. When the two wanderers come across an Aborigine boy on his ‘walkabout’ – a rite of passage into manhood involving months of solo survival – they become dependent on the seemingly primitive being to get them back to civilization. With no common language, the trio embarks on a long journey back to ‘civilization’, which has irrevocable changes for all. ‘Walkabout’ casts a cinematic spell – sometimes unspeakably beautiful, sometimes chilling – packed with unforgettable images and with an ending that is at once ironic and heart-wrenching.
‘Walkabout’ is a journey you won’t forget.
Check out the trailer here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utSgS3fnHN4
Today is Australia Day. Watch ‘Crocodile Dundee’ (1980) if you like – that’s perfectly OK, mate – but I’d suggest a radically different view of Down Under: Nicolas Roeg’s visually mesmerizing and haunting ‘Walkabout’ (1979). An in-depth look at the harsh glories of the Australian Outback, ‘Walkabout’ is a film unlike any other, visually seductive and dreamlike in its approach. Director Roeg has an uncanny ability to readjust the viewer’s internal clock and cultural compass.
This poetic story of two English school children (Luc Roeg and Jenny Agutter) lost in the outback after their father abandons them and kills himself plays like a langerous dream. When the two wanderers come across an Aborigine boy on his ‘walkabout’ – a rite of passage into manhood involving months of solo survival – they become dependent on the seemingly primitive being to get them back to civilization. With no common language, the trio embarks on a long journey back to ‘civilization’, which has irrevocable changes for all. ‘Walkabout’ casts a cinematic spell – sometimes unspeakably beautiful, sometimes chilling – packed with unforgettable images and with an ending that is at once ironic and heart-wrenching.
‘Walkabout’ is a journey you won’t forget.
Check out the trailer here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utSgS3fnHN4
Monday, January 25, 2010
THE BEAT GOES ON . . AND ON . . AND ON . . .
January 25 . . .
Yesterday, Sunday January 24, the German rock group The Scorpions announced that, after 40 years, they were calling it quits. They’re releasing one last album (LP? CD? Download?), called ‘Sting In The Tail’ in March, and will embark on their farewell tour in April. Hopefully, they’ll still be ambulatory enough to get on stage. It kind of brings a new meaning to the term ‘Oldies Act’.
Still, it’s an admirable trait, tenacity. And music is an admittedly hard Jones to kick. I know from experience. I was a working musician – and no, that’s not necessarily an oxymoron – for many years. My hat is off to any group that can weather the storm through more than 4 decades. Well done, lads.
The Stones are probably the most celebrated long-haul rock band, clocking in at nearly 50 years, now. But not every geriatric rocker gets to have Martin Scorsese film a documentary on them (‘Shine A Light’) So let’s have a round of applause for the subject of today’s ‘Movie A Day’, the one . . the only . . ANVIL!
The original members, drummer Robb Reiner and guitar whiz Steve Kudlow star in one of the wackiest, yet most oddly effecting rock documentaries ever, ‘Anvil! The Story of Anvil’ (2008). Heavy Metal band Anvil has been together for nearly as long as the Stones, and they’re still Rolling – though admittedly downhill. (When asked by the local paper what he carries in his ever-present fanny pak, Kudrow responds, “Wallet, money, keys, rolling papers, false teeth . .”)
If you live in Austin, Texas, tonight is your golden opportunity – the boys are playing a live gig at Emo’s at 7pm (guess those midnight shows are a thing of the past), after showing the film. Be there or be . . well, home watching TV. If you can’t make the gig, keep an eye out for this inspiring, funny, one-of-a-kind movie from director Sasha Gervasi. It’s kind of a strange hybrid of ‘The Last Waltz’, ‘This Is Spinal Tap’ and ‘The Filth & The Fury’. Even if you’re not into Heavy Metal, you’ll find ‘Anvil! The Story of Anvil’ to be an inspiring testament to the 3-chord lifestyle. Steve Kudrow: “ . . it wouldn’t matter whether it was heavy metal or country or western; the heart of the story is about determination, personal sacrifice, love, dedication to a cause . .”
And false teeth. Don’t forget the false teeth. Keep rockin’, lads.
Yesterday, Sunday January 24, the German rock group The Scorpions announced that, after 40 years, they were calling it quits. They’re releasing one last album (LP? CD? Download?), called ‘Sting In The Tail’ in March, and will embark on their farewell tour in April. Hopefully, they’ll still be ambulatory enough to get on stage. It kind of brings a new meaning to the term ‘Oldies Act’.
Still, it’s an admirable trait, tenacity. And music is an admittedly hard Jones to kick. I know from experience. I was a working musician – and no, that’s not necessarily an oxymoron – for many years. My hat is off to any group that can weather the storm through more than 4 decades. Well done, lads.
The Stones are probably the most celebrated long-haul rock band, clocking in at nearly 50 years, now. But not every geriatric rocker gets to have Martin Scorsese film a documentary on them (‘Shine A Light’) So let’s have a round of applause for the subject of today’s ‘Movie A Day’, the one . . the only . . ANVIL!
The original members, drummer Robb Reiner and guitar whiz Steve Kudlow star in one of the wackiest, yet most oddly effecting rock documentaries ever, ‘Anvil! The Story of Anvil’ (2008). Heavy Metal band Anvil has been together for nearly as long as the Stones, and they’re still Rolling – though admittedly downhill. (When asked by the local paper what he carries in his ever-present fanny pak, Kudrow responds, “Wallet, money, keys, rolling papers, false teeth . .”)
If you live in Austin, Texas, tonight is your golden opportunity – the boys are playing a live gig at Emo’s at 7pm (guess those midnight shows are a thing of the past), after showing the film. Be there or be . . well, home watching TV. If you can’t make the gig, keep an eye out for this inspiring, funny, one-of-a-kind movie from director Sasha Gervasi. It’s kind of a strange hybrid of ‘The Last Waltz’, ‘This Is Spinal Tap’ and ‘The Filth & The Fury’. Even if you’re not into Heavy Metal, you’ll find ‘Anvil! The Story of Anvil’ to be an inspiring testament to the 3-chord lifestyle. Steve Kudrow: “ . . it wouldn’t matter whether it was heavy metal or country or western; the heart of the story is about determination, personal sacrifice, love, dedication to a cause . .”
And false teeth. Don’t forget the false teeth. Keep rockin’, lads.
Friday, January 22, 2010
HERE’S LOOKING AT HIM, KID .
January 23
During his service in the Navy during WWI aboard the Leviathan, the sailor’s lower lip was injured during a shelling, and he talked with a pronounced lisp for the rest of his life. But if anyone ever made a lisp sound manly, it was Humphrey Bogart, born this day in 1899 in New York City.
If any actor comes close to the illusory, iconoclastic male heart of the American cinema, it’s Bogie. The AFI voted him #1 on their list of the Top 100 Movie Stars. But his lineage was misleading. He was raised as the son of a successful Manhattan physician, and sent to study medicine at Yale, but was discharged due to disciplinary problems. He joined the Navy during WWI, and after his discharge, found himself drawn to the theater, working his way up from office boy to stage manager to actor. When he started appearing in Off-Broadway plays, he was invariably cast as secong juvenile lead.
The struggling actor got his big break when he was cast as gangster-on-the-run Duke Mantee (at the insistence of influential star Leslie Howard) in ‘The Petrified Forest’ (1936). Thereafter, he took on a slew of secondary roles to Jimmy Cagney – who invariably killed him off before the final reel. But in 1941, director Raoul Walsh saw something special and noble in Bogart, casting him as career criminal Roy ‘Mad Dog’ Earle in ‘High Sierra’ (1941). It was Bogie’s first starring role. Suddenly, the Bogart persona was there, intact; tough but sympathetic, distant yet romantic, even tender. It remains one of his best performances, and propelled him into the A-list.
Bogart went on to other memorable performances – ‘The Maltese Falcon’ (1941), ‘The African Queen’ (1951) . . but his insightful, sorrowful turn as the noble outlaw in ‘High Sierra’ was never surpassed. Taut direction and great location photography help elevate this to one of the great gangster flicks, ever – and something more. ‘High Sierra’ also provided a breakthrough part for Ida Lupino, touching and tough as the tag-along girl who loves him.
Check out the original trailer here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7kny3itNYQ&feature=PlayList&p=C19DE0E7906A0CF7&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=22
During his service in the Navy during WWI aboard the Leviathan, the sailor’s lower lip was injured during a shelling, and he talked with a pronounced lisp for the rest of his life. But if anyone ever made a lisp sound manly, it was Humphrey Bogart, born this day in 1899 in New York City.
If any actor comes close to the illusory, iconoclastic male heart of the American cinema, it’s Bogie. The AFI voted him #1 on their list of the Top 100 Movie Stars. But his lineage was misleading. He was raised as the son of a successful Manhattan physician, and sent to study medicine at Yale, but was discharged due to disciplinary problems. He joined the Navy during WWI, and after his discharge, found himself drawn to the theater, working his way up from office boy to stage manager to actor. When he started appearing in Off-Broadway plays, he was invariably cast as secong juvenile lead.
The struggling actor got his big break when he was cast as gangster-on-the-run Duke Mantee (at the insistence of influential star Leslie Howard) in ‘The Petrified Forest’ (1936). Thereafter, he took on a slew of secondary roles to Jimmy Cagney – who invariably killed him off before the final reel. But in 1941, director Raoul Walsh saw something special and noble in Bogart, casting him as career criminal Roy ‘Mad Dog’ Earle in ‘High Sierra’ (1941). It was Bogie’s first starring role. Suddenly, the Bogart persona was there, intact; tough but sympathetic, distant yet romantic, even tender. It remains one of his best performances, and propelled him into the A-list.
Bogart went on to other memorable performances – ‘The Maltese Falcon’ (1941), ‘The African Queen’ (1951) . . but his insightful, sorrowful turn as the noble outlaw in ‘High Sierra’ was never surpassed. Taut direction and great location photography help elevate this to one of the great gangster flicks, ever – and something more. ‘High Sierra’ also provided a breakthrough part for Ida Lupino, touching and tough as the tag-along girl who loves him.
Check out the original trailer here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7kny3itNYQ&feature=PlayList&p=C19DE0E7906A0CF7&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=22
THANK THE MAN WHO INVENTED MOVIES
January 22 . . .
All right . . it’s simplistic and inaccurate to say that D.W. Griffith ‘invented’ movies. But if any one man can be said to have developed the visual lexicon of modern American film, it is David Wark Griffith, born this day in 1875 in La Grange, Kentucky.
He began as a barnstorming actor using the stage name Lawrence Griffith, playing supporting roles in various slap-dash traveling theatrical troupes throughout the South. His courtly manner and distinguished voice did not overcome his somewhat unattractive and stiff physical demeanor, so he turned to playwriting. He failed at that, too – until he decided to try his luck pedaling his scenarios around New York in hopes of selling a story idea suitable for the newfangled fad called moving pictures. At the newly launched Biograph Studios, he found work as both writer and actor, soaking up everything he could learn about the fledgling medium. He was a quick study, developing a phenomenally intuitive understanding of the potential inherent in the exciting new field. Soon he was directing one-and two-reelers for the company, literally conjuring the visual language of film as he went along.
At Biograph, he stopped actors from giving over-the-top ‘stage’ performances, recognizing that the camera exaggerated expression. He developed inherently cinematic techniques – moving the camera, changing the angles, cross-cutting action, incorporating close-ups and rhythmic editing. In ‘The Birth of A Nation’ (1915), his epic feature-length saga of the American Civil War and its effects on a Southern family, he created what many historians regard as the single most important film in the development of cinema. But it was – and remains – controversial for its depiction of the KKK, presented as heroic vigilantes, and the film was justifiably accused of racism. Still, it was a huge success with the public. The film was the ‘Avatar’ of its day.
Griffith’s follow-up project was to be his ultimate masterpiece – and his grandest failure. Today’s Movie A Day is ‘Intolerance’ (1916) – an astonishingly ambitious work of art, gargantuan in scale, and still breathtakingly impressive. Griffith audaciously tells four overlapping stories simultaneously – a retelling of the Passion play, the storming of Babylon, the Huguenots, and a ‘modern day’ tale – gradually blending them all together like a fabric in the majestic climax. Griffith used film as a multi-narrative form that was astonishing in its reach and scale.
Inevitably, the monumentally ambitious film bombed at the box office, and it ruined Griffith financially. He went on to make several more masterpieces – most notably the poetic ‘Broken Blossoms’ (1919) and the historical epic ‘Orphans of the Storm’ (1921) – both starring the luminous Lillian Gish. But Griffith found himself left behind when talkies arrived, an anachronistic symbol of bygone days. He died penniless, proud, and soused, in the Knickerbocker Hotel in 1948, forgotten by all but a few old-timers.
Here's Part 1 of 'Intolerance':
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkgSIdOU_cc
All right . . it’s simplistic and inaccurate to say that D.W. Griffith ‘invented’ movies. But if any one man can be said to have developed the visual lexicon of modern American film, it is David Wark Griffith, born this day in 1875 in La Grange, Kentucky.
He began as a barnstorming actor using the stage name Lawrence Griffith, playing supporting roles in various slap-dash traveling theatrical troupes throughout the South. His courtly manner and distinguished voice did not overcome his somewhat unattractive and stiff physical demeanor, so he turned to playwriting. He failed at that, too – until he decided to try his luck pedaling his scenarios around New York in hopes of selling a story idea suitable for the newfangled fad called moving pictures. At the newly launched Biograph Studios, he found work as both writer and actor, soaking up everything he could learn about the fledgling medium. He was a quick study, developing a phenomenally intuitive understanding of the potential inherent in the exciting new field. Soon he was directing one-and two-reelers for the company, literally conjuring the visual language of film as he went along.
At Biograph, he stopped actors from giving over-the-top ‘stage’ performances, recognizing that the camera exaggerated expression. He developed inherently cinematic techniques – moving the camera, changing the angles, cross-cutting action, incorporating close-ups and rhythmic editing. In ‘The Birth of A Nation’ (1915), his epic feature-length saga of the American Civil War and its effects on a Southern family, he created what many historians regard as the single most important film in the development of cinema. But it was – and remains – controversial for its depiction of the KKK, presented as heroic vigilantes, and the film was justifiably accused of racism. Still, it was a huge success with the public. The film was the ‘Avatar’ of its day.
Griffith’s follow-up project was to be his ultimate masterpiece – and his grandest failure. Today’s Movie A Day is ‘Intolerance’ (1916) – an astonishingly ambitious work of art, gargantuan in scale, and still breathtakingly impressive. Griffith audaciously tells four overlapping stories simultaneously – a retelling of the Passion play, the storming of Babylon, the Huguenots, and a ‘modern day’ tale – gradually blending them all together like a fabric in the majestic climax. Griffith used film as a multi-narrative form that was astonishing in its reach and scale.
Inevitably, the monumentally ambitious film bombed at the box office, and it ruined Griffith financially. He went on to make several more masterpieces – most notably the poetic ‘Broken Blossoms’ (1919) and the historical epic ‘Orphans of the Storm’ (1921) – both starring the luminous Lillian Gish. But Griffith found himself left behind when talkies arrived, an anachronistic symbol of bygone days. He died penniless, proud, and soused, in the Knickerbocker Hotel in 1948, forgotten by all but a few old-timers.
Here's Part 1 of 'Intolerance':
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkgSIdOU_cc
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
