THE HOLLYWOOD RAGE PAGE

Rudy Giuliani, having not been informed that Trump University, which was forced to settle a huge, multi-million dollar lawsuit for fraud, had been shuttered, showed up at the main campus, the Trump Tower lobby,   to deliver this year’s commencement address.   In attendance were a janitor named Jesus and Bobby, the lobby guard.   Here is a transcript: “President Trump esteemed members of the faculty, class of 2018,   it is my great honor to be the first to congratulate you on this very special day which also happens to be coincidently, the first day of Paul Manafort’s trial. (At this point a sandwich delivery guy enters the lobby and after a moment of confusion, hands Mr. Giuliani a grease-stained brown bag with his order of an egg sandwich and a diet Fresca, which Mr. Giuliani at first denies having ordered, then remembers and then blames the eggs for not being cooperative).   As you know, before I worked for our great, great President, I was a prosecutor who was perso

To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before I feel like my generation is the guardian at the gate of a now long lost kind of chest swelling, hand-holding, heart pumping romantic love that came with a built-in Brill Building soundtrack that in the day featured songs written mostly by my people, as were most of the songs written for the stage and screen.   Carole King, Neil Diamond, Neal Sedaka, Barry Mann, Irving Berlin, Rodgers and Hammerstein were all from my tribe and it’s quite possible that I felt the yearning subtext of their lyrics and melodies on an even deeper level.   Being Jewish in those days was not always easy and the music was our secret code which could be deciphered with the greatest of ease by our lonely trapeze swinging hearts.   When I was a kid, growing up in the fifties, we men in training, doused ourselves with a tsunami of Vitalis and all the love songs that soared like lovebirds from the tiny speakers of our transistor radios were all about innocen

I was just thinking that all Trump rallies are pure hate rallies which reverberate with blame, lies, personal attacks, and self-entitlement.   So why don't we who know better, who are educated, empathetic, people of faith who do not perversely twist their religions into reasons to advocate discrimination, who embrace things like the freedom of the press, stage state by state love rallies that show how much we love our diversity, our democracy and most importantly our Constitution?   I personally am tired of being dragged down to the level of Trump, the treasonous members of the GOP and worst of all his ignorant, base who are delighted that they are making liberals uncomfortable.   Behaviorally, we are living in a country that is being run by vicious, tantrum-throwing toddlers who are all agents of the USSR whose direct marching orders have been: create chaos while you destroy the infrastructure of the United States from the inside. Every single member of the cabinet from Be

The Hollywood Rage Page was able to acquire the unedited tape of the conversation between then-candidate Trump and his lawyer.   Here is an excerpt: Trump:   Доброе утро. Cohen: What? Trump:   Меня зовут Donald. Cohen:   Oh. You’re doing the whole Russian/Rosetta Stone thing. Trump:   It’s fantastic.   I learned the entire language in fifteen minutes.   Now I have the best words in Russian.   Cohen:   We need to set up the LLC   to arrange the payments. Trump: Which payment is this now? There are so many, the head spins which, you know, sometimes exposes the whole totally bald in the back thing.  Airport wind should just go to hell,  Am I right? Cohen: We’ll have to pay. To our friend David.   Trump: I love that his last name is Pecker.   That should be my last name. Ha!  Hey, what do you think of the new skin tone?  It's called "NBA Basketball."   You like?  Oh. And my hair.  I saw a picture of Mitzi Gaynor in "South Paci

I have not spoken to my dad in over forty years.   Years ago I turned my back on him and walked away and that was that. No, we didn’t have a fight. He died when I was   25 and that walk away came right on the beat at the conclusion of the service in the cemetery after we lowered him with sway and love deep into the womb of the ground, like a treasure chest, buried in that family secret place which only you and your loved ones will know the location of, which years from now, will require the services of a map to find. When you bury a parent, time suddenly becomes unfathomable, unreliable and all you can do with any assurance is cry, like the moment that you had to say goodbye to your floppy-eared best friend, who wagged her tail to the very end just because you were there.  Our parent’s final breath pushes us into a dimension of exquisite   separation and inextinguishable pain, where everything still feels just within our reach but in truth is now as far away as

Following the announcement that Trump has invited Vladimir Putin has been invited for a White House sleepover in the Fall, The Hollywood Rage Page was able to secure a list of future invitees Josef Stalin Pol Pot Idi Amin Josef Mengle Devon Nunes Trey Gowdy Lizzie Bordon Lord Voldemort Joe Arpaio Kevin Spacey Fidel Castro Heinrich Himmler Khalid Sheikh Mohammed Harvey Weinstein Mitch McConnell Eric Trump Ivanka Trump Don Trump, Jr. Maria Butina (*if available) Roseanne Barr Saddam Hussein Bill Cosby Charles Manson and family Rudolf Hess Ann Coulter Sarah Huckabee Scott Pruit Jack The Ripper Ted Bundy The Zodiac Killer Jeffery Dahmer (*has dietary restrictions) Vlad The Impaler Joseph Goebbels Timothy McVeigh Sean Hannity Bill O'Reilly   Ivan The Terrible Steven Mnuchin Dutch Schultz Hirohito Paul Ryan jihadi John John Wayne Gacy Martin Shkreli Lee Harvey Oswald Laura Ingraham The Koch B

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Ina comes to me, which is actually not a very good thing because my mom, unlike Paul’s mom, was a hot mess who never met a situation that she couldn’t make far worse by overreacting and throwing a Scarlett O’Hara-worthy clot. Due to a personal tragedy that happened to my mom when she was very young (and never properly dealt with either emotionally or mentally) my mom lived on the slippery edge, plugged directly into the outlet of her early warning system that went off with such regularity that it ultimately became the soundtrack of my life whose greatest hits included “You Did What??,” “Oh My God!,” and her biggest tune, “How Can You Do That to Me??” You didn’t have to know all the lyrics to feel the full impact of her songs. And trust me, you could not dance to any of them unless you knew all the intricate steps of the dance of death. My siblings were panic, inevitability, and doom. Most of the time.   But not all.  

Recorded behind closed doors at the White House two days ago. Male Voice:   Mr. President… Trump: Hold on a minute.   I’m trying to see if I can remember this. (Singing) “My bologna has a first name, it’s O-S-C-A-R, My bologna has a second name, It's M-A-Y-E-R.” Then what the hell is it? Female Voice: Mr. President we need you to… Trump:   “Oh I love to eat it everyday…And if you ask me why say….say…say…shit, what the hell is it? (We hear a loud thumping sound) Female Voice:   Oh my God, he’s banging his head into the desk. Trump:   (Triumphant) Cause' Oscar Mayer has a way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A!!!!   (Then:) Ow. Male Voice: Mr. President: Helsinki.   We need to clean this mess up pronto.   You are getting hammered from both sides of the aisle, sir. Trump:   What’s to clean up?   I was great.   First of all how much bigger am I than Putin, right?   The top of his head was like two feet below my nipples.   That is a show of strength.   H