Witt and Wittier Films

  Over the many years there are countless memories that are now gathering dust in the mind of an old man (That would be me) but they never go away, and I don’t apologize for them. The memories of an old man are like that. One such memory of mine is from my time in Nashville. One of many times in my life that I became delusional and imagined myself to be something that I wasn’t. You write and sing in some bar in Austin and the drinks would tell you that you oughta be In Nashville. So, I went to there to become another Willie Nelson, unfortunately they already had a Willie Nelson, and their quota was filled for singing Texas Fools, and I ended up doing shows out across from Opryland just off Briley Parkway at the Ramada Inn. My agent  told me it was a good gig. Tourists filled the bar, so you must be a star, you're on a stage in Nashville. Hank Williams never died; he does a show every night at the Holiday Inn.   I lived in a studio on Westend and every morning I’d get up and write a

  So,I’m gonna bust this bubble right now! I spent fifteen years, curtesy of the CPS, separated from my grandchildren. No particular reason. I just was one of them guys that has a face people like to slap the shit out of. And all that time I lived a delusional life, clinging onto schizophrenic memories of the sounds of little feet. The CPS was smarter than me! I should’ve taken the hint!   Well, time and tears went by and we were all united again. My joy was beyond description. Like finding a bottle of Jim in the cabinet behind the flour that you forgot you hid there so folks wouldn’t call you an alcoholic when you pour a couple shots in your morning coffee.   It took me some time before I realized the kids had morphed. Took about a day. They don’t talk, they scream. And they scream because they all hate each other. The big ones eat the little ones. This actually started a while ago. Ever wonder why the birth rate is declining? Millenials eat their young! But they honestly hate each ot

  Our 14-year-old dog Abbey died last month. The day she passed away my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so, and she dictated these words: Dear God, Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick. I hope you will play with her. She likes to swim and play with balls. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her you will know that she is my dog. I really miss her. Love, Meredith We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afte

      The attack on our youth is unrelenting. From without and within, the redefinition of everything from math to sexuality is putting our children into the red zone of puberty on steroids. The denial of time-honored understanding of basic concepts of life has put our teens into a terminal descent of dispair. Each new revelation of how to, who to, where to, and why to is replaced with yet another theory even crazier than the one it replaced. And this is almost exclusively an American problem.   Teen years have always been a time of toil and tears. No other generation has had the pressure that the so-called “Z” generation has had to endure. New kids have always had new ideas. Society forced children to accept their role in life and still some of the new ideas survived, filtered by the experience of the previous generation that tried to keep them from making the same mistakes that they had made during their formative years.   In times past there were no teens. You were either “on the ti

  Since her death in 1979, the woman who discovered what the universe is made of has not so much as received a memorial plaque. Her newspaper obituaries do not mention her greatest discovery. […] Every high school student knows that Isaac Newton discovered gravity, that Charles Darwin discovered evolution, and that Albert Einstein discovered the relativity of time. But when it comes to the compostion of our universe, the textbooks simply say that the most abundant atom in the universe is hydrogen. And no one ever wonders how we know.” — Jeremy Knowles, discusses the complete lack of recognition Cecilia Payne gets, even today, for her revolutionary discovery. (via alliterate) OH WAIT LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT CECILIA PAYNE. Cecilia Payne’s mother refusd to spend money on her college education, so she won a scholarship to Cambridge. Cecilia Payne completed her studies, but Cambridge wouldn’t give her a degree because at that time there was not much exposure for women, so she said to heck wit

      The term Tik Tok took on a new meaning this week when cell phones and pagers began to blow up across Lebanon and all points Middle Eastern. Don’t call us, we’ll call you became the watch word of your friendly neighborhood terrorist. Of course Ali Babba immediately blamed Israel. I mean why would the Jews wanna blow up people darker than them. They just raised a glass and shouted, “Lechaim!”   The cell phone has long been the fuse of choice for Middle East bombers who didn’t want to get their 72 virgins today. But no more established government agencies did so. However, I’ve known that when agencies of the US, Great Britain, and Israel heard of a van heading for a mall and “somehow” had a phone number they would dial it up to see if something “popped up.” Now you understand the Mafia term “Bada Bing Bada Boom!”   Would secret agents rig up cell phones to blow off the heads of people who fly planes into buildings? Will a priest date a little boy? And it’s poetic justice. Just yeste

 by Bill the Butcher & Robert Poynter     Ok. You conspiracy theorists out there, here’s one for you: Candidate campaigning for office with Secret Service protection makes a spur of the moment decision to play a round of golf, taking a break from his planned route. He flies in his personal jet, complete with entourage to his own golf course with an investor to play golf. Simultaneously a man set up a sniper’s nest just off the sixth green. He was waiting for about twelve hours there indicating that he was there probably just after the candidate was making the decision to play that round of golf. With the candidate on the fifth green the would be assassin was sighting his shot in on the sixth. A highly trained Secret Service Agent saw a rifle protruding from the bushes. Shouting, “Gun!” He fired six shots from his government issued pistol gripped firmly in his highly trained hand . . . and he missed!   Ya’ll think I’m making all this up, don’t you? I’m not. Donald Trump, Florida, Se

       The recent debate changed nothing. But it was good entertainment. Were you not entertained? A debacle that was the first debate between Biden and Trump set unrealistic expectations of a repeat between Don Corleone and a sorority girl, but it was not to be. While both candidates took liberty with some facts THE fact remains that Trump is right and Harris is left and never the two shall meet in the middle. All observers just cheered, “Hooray for our side!” But nothing was fundamentally changed when the fat lady sang.   And Americans don’t like that. A fairly sedate, intelligent discussion between Kennedy and Nixon has no Tik Tok in it. For one you can’t have candidates using four syllable words. The audience can only digest sound bites. No substance, just cute. But didn’t the hair look great? Actually there was no audience because both candidates need to leave with both ears.   Oh, there were moments. From Trump mainly. From wild Mexicans making tacos out of dogs to doctors garr