by Barye Phillips
This book first came out in 1950. The cover and the book’s plot about five French women living together in London during World War II were so controversial that Canada banned it outright and the U.S. House held hearing on whether or not the book was immoral. The controversy also made the book a best seller and helped launch the genre of lesbian pulp fiction.
Rob Halford has said that this song is about “freedom.” Once you are on the highway, you can go anywhere you want. With it being Labor Day weekend, a lot of people are going to be taking advantage of that freedom today.
This video was one of the man to be directed by Julien Temple. Temple will probably always be best known for his work with the Sex Pistols.
Enjoy!
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Fridays, I will be reviewing SLEDGE HAMMER!, a cop comedy which ran on ABC from 1986 to 1988. The entire series can be found on Prime!
This week, Hammer’s former partner break out of prison!
Episode 1.4 “They Shoot Hammers, Don’t They?”
(Dir by David Wechter, originally aired on October 17th, 1986)
At the annual police quick-draw contest, Hammer is once again named the department champion. His secret is to shoot every target, whether it represents a criminal or a civilian. He also attaches a “loudener” to the barrel of his gun, which not only makes a lot of noise but also causes a lot of damage.
Hammer is going to need all of his abilities, because his childhood friend and former partner on the force, John Kogan (Jack Thibeau), has broken out of jail and hijacked a bus. He announces that he’s going to drive the bus across the country and cause a lot of trouble unless Hammer meets him for a duel. Kogan, a corrupt cop, blames Hammer for sending him to prison. Captain Trunk refuses to allow Hammer to meet with Kogan. As Trunk puts it, Kogan is one man with a bus. How much damage can he do?
After a montage of buildings exploding and people running in fear, Hammer finally confronts Kogan. As Dori Doreau watches, Kogan and Hammer attempt to outdraw each other. Kogan turns out to be faster than Hammer. He shoots the gun out of Hammer’s hand, then keeps shooting the gun.
“Stop shooting my gun!” Hammer yells.
This was a funny episode, even if it didn’t quite reach the comedic heights of the previous three. While those episodes were often intentionally absurd and even surreal, this one tells a relatively straightforward story. That said, David Rasche continues to be gleefully unhinged as Hammer, and Anne-Marie Martin and Harrison Page provide good support as the two people tasked with keeping him under control.
The funniest scene involves Hammer using a pay phone to talk to an informant who is himself using another pay phone only about five feet away. When the informant demands $25,000 for his information, Hammer has to use another pay phone to call the station and get Trunk’s permission. Trunk has left for lunch, so Hammer then has to use yet another pay phone to call Trunk’s home. It’s a wonderfully chaotic visual gag, and it gives David Rasche a chance to show off some impressive physical comedy.
In the end, the city is saved. Trust Sledge Hammer. He knows what he’s doing.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Fridays, I will be reviewing St. Elsewhere, a medical show which ran on NBC from 1982 to 1988. The show can be found on Daily Motion.
This week, Westphall finds something else to feel depressed about.
Episode 4.9 “Sanctuary”
(Dir by Eric Laneuville, originally aired on December 4th, 1985)
Dr. Ehrlich has been demoted to gynecology, the department he most fears. He even begs Dr. Caldwell to allow him to return to plastic surgery, but Caldwell has no sympathy for him. Caldwell tells Ehrlich that he’s a loser and that he’ll always be a loser.
Well, Ehrlich may be a loser, but he also helps deliver a baby in this episode and learns that he can actually get through the day without offending someone. Bobby Caldwell, on the other hand, makes a joke about Lucy’s breasts in front of a patient and ends up getting reported for sexual harassment. When Lucy points out to Auschlander that Caldwell’s statement was both demeaning and uttered in front of a patient, Caldwell argues that Lucy is taking things too personally and that he was just joking. (Ugh. Every woman has had a Bobby Caldwell in her life.) Auschlander asks Lucy to leave the room and then tells Bobby that if he ever makes another joke like that, he’ll be fired. While it’s good that Auschlander makes it clear that Bobby’s conduct was unprofessional, sending Lucy out of the room beforehand only leaves her feeling more isolated. Auschlander is willing to reprimand Caldwell, but only in private, a consideration that Bobby wasn’t willing to show Lucy.
Lucy is angry, and it doesn’t help that Nurse Rosenthal essentially says that Lucy only has herself to blame for being too flirtatious with the doctors in the past. Oh God, this episode was not easy for me to watch. I used to work as an administrative assistant. My boss was a good guy who always treated me with respect. (It undoubtedly helped that he was a good friend of my mom’s and we had more of a father/daughter relationship than a standard boss/employee relationship.) However, I lost track of the number of other men who would tell me that they appreciated it whenever I wore a skirt or who would hang out at my desk and watch whenever I had to lean forward for any particular reason. I would smile and say something silly in response because that just seemed like the easiest way to deal with things. The other women who worked in the building always told me that I should “dress down,” but I didn’t want to do that. I just wanted to be myself.
Meanwhile, Dr. Fiscus loses a patient, a homeless man (Mark Casella) who once helped Fiscus move. Before the man dies, he sees an Egyptian sarcophagus being X-rayed and comments on how people still remember the rulers of ancient Egypt but no one is going to remember him. After he dies, Fiscus and his girlfriend, X-ray technician Mona Polita (Leah Ayres), wrap the man’s body and put him in an empty sarcophagus.
Finally, Westphall’s new housekeeper, Morena (Edith Diaz), is rushed to the ER with back pain. With the help of Dr. Morrison (who speaks fluent Spanish as a result of attending a South American medical school), Westphall learns that Morena was tortured in her native El Salvador. As usual, Dr. Westphall makes Morena’s tragedy all about himself by using her as an example of why the hospital needs to adopt Westphall’s plans to reach out to the community.
The next day, Westphall snaps at the residents about their lack of community spirit. Fiscus finally snaps that he’s sick of being lectured by Westphall and leaves the room. Good for Fiscus! Seriously, Westphall’s self-righteousness has been unbearable this season. Just because Westphall can’t figure out how to communicate with his autistic son, he’s been making everyone else’s life miserable.
This was another rather sad episode of St. Elsewhere. There’s not much happiness to be found in St. Eligius. That said, Lucy’s storyline was touching and also a reminder that, in some ways, 2026 is not that different from 1985. And I was glad that the poor homeless man was given a burial fit for a king. If nothing else, Fiscus will never forget him.
“Like a Stone” is one of Audioslave’s defining songs: a slow-burning rock ballad that feels enormous without ever becoming overly busy. Released on the band’s 2002 self-titled debut, it pairs a deceptively simple, steady arrangement with a mood of isolation, reflection, and patient longing. For a new listener, the easiest way to describe it is as a late-night song—one built around the feeling of sitting with your thoughts after everyone else has gone home. The track’s famous central image, waiting “like a stone,” gives it a spiritual, almost haunted quality.
That mood reflects Chris Cornell’s own explanation of the lyrics. Cornell said the other members of Audioslave asked him what the song was about, and his answer was death—specifically, imagining what it might be like to wait in the afterlife. That idea gives the narrator’s solitude a deeper meaning: he is not simply waiting for a person or living through ordinary heartbreak, but existing in a kind of suspended spiritual space, waiting to be reunited with those who have already passed on. It is a heavy premise, yet Cornell presents it with enough ambiguity that the song still feels personal to anyone hearing longing, regret, faith, or grief in its words.
The musical backbone is strikingly restrained. Tim Commerford’s bass and Brad Wilk’s drums hold down a deliberate, spacious groove, while Tom Morello plays a clean, chiming guitar figure that gives the song its mournful atmosphere. Unlike the aggressive, effects-heavy riffs people may associate with Rage Against the Machine, Morello largely serves the song’s emotional weight here; the guitar rings out like a distant signal rather than competing for attention. Chris Cornell’s vocals are soulful and powerful, but what makes the performance special is his control: he begins in a weary, intimate register, then gradually brings more ache and force into the chorus without losing the song’s sense of loneliness.
Morello gets his standout moment in the final stretch: his guitar solo begins at roughly 2:54 in the album recording. It is brief, but it is exactly the right kind of brief—more melodic and emotionally focused than flashy, rising out of the song like a final release of tension. He bends and sustains notes instead of turning the moment into a technical showcase, which fits the track’s somber atmosphere perfectly. “Like a Stone” is proof that Audioslave could make something as memorable through patience and feeling as they could through sheer volume: Cornell’s voice gives it its soul, and Morello’s guitar gives that soul a final, searching echo.
Like a Stone
On a cobweb afternoon, in a room full of emptiness
By a freeway, I confess I was lost in the pages
Of a book full of death, reading how we’ll die alone
And if we’re good, we’ll lay to rest anywhere we wanna go
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I’ll wait for you there like a stone
I’ll wait for you there alone
And on my deathbed, I will pray to the gods and the angels
Like a pagan to anyone who will take me to Heaven
To a place I recall, I was there so long ago
The sky was bruised, the wine was bled, and there you led me on
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I’ll wait for you there like a stone
I’ll wait for you there alone, alone
[guitar solo @2:54]
And on I read, until the day was gone
And I sat in regret of all the things I’ve done
For all that I’ve blessed, and all that I’ve wronged
In dreams until my death, I will wander on
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I’ll wait for you there like a stone
I’ll wait for you there alone, alone
Great Guitar Solos Series
As some of our regular readers undoubtedly know, I am involved in a few weekly watch parties. On Twitter, I host #FridayNightFlix every Friday and I co-host #ScarySocial on Saturday. On Mastodon, I am one of the five hosts of #MondayActionMovie! Every week, we get together. We watch a movie. We tweet our way through it.
Tonight, at 10 pm et, I will be hosting #FridayNightFlix! The movie? John Carpenter’s They Live!
If you want to join us this Friday, just hop onto twitter, find They Live on Prime, start the movie at 10 pm et, and use the #FridayNightFlix hashtag! I’ll be there happily tweeting. It’s a friendly group and welcoming of newcomers so don’t be shy.
See you there!
The Caine Mutiny (1954, dir by Edward Dmytryk, DP: Franz Planer)
Today’s scene that I love comes from 1954’s The Caine Mutiny.
In this scene, Captain Queeg (Humphrey Bogart) is cross-examined by Barney Greenwald (Jose Ferrer). The court martial concerns whether or not an officer under Queeg’s command was justified in taking over the ship from Queeg. Greenwald, tasked with defending the head mutineer, knows that the only way to win the case is to expose Queeg himself as a paranoid and unstable officer. Greenwald does his job but he’s not happy about it.
This scene, directed by Edward Dmytryk, features both Bogart and Ferrer at their absolute best.
4 Or More Shots From 4 Or More Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
117 years ago, on this date in Columbia, Canada, director Edward Dmytryk was born. Today, we honor this underrated filmmaker with….
4 Shots From 4 Edward Dmytryk Films
Murder, My Sweet (1944, dir by Edward Dmytryk, DP: Harry J. Wild)
Crossfire (1947, dir by Edward Dmytryk, DP: J. Roy Hunt)
The Caine Mutiny (1954, dir by Edward Dmytryk, DP: Franz Planer)
The Carpetbaggers (1964, dir by Edward Dmytryk, DP: Joseph MacDonald)
by Robert Stanley
Saucy wench? Is that a compliment?
I used to think that this song was called Borderline. I thought the chorus was “Borderline! Love isn’t always unkind!” Of course, the song actually goes, “Hold the line! Love isn’t always on time!,” which makes more sense.
When this song was recorded, “Hold the line” meant to stay in place. In this case, the lyrics were directed at a girl who was waiting for the lead singer to commit. Back in the days of landline phones, it was also something that you said to someone before putting them on hold so you could take another call. This song became Toto’s first hits and remains one of the band’s signature songs. When guitarist Steve Lukather finally disbanded Toto in 2009, he said it was because he no longer felt that he could continue to sing Hold the Line with a straight face.
Even before MTV actually became a thing, Toto was doing music videos. Their video for Hold the Line is a simple performance piece. It may not have cost much money but it still helped to bring the song to an audience that might have otherwise missed it.
Enjoy!
Through the Shattered Lens 