Shocking News

My name is Pete Landelli. I came across this article and was able to convince Blogger to allow me to log into Rick's account and post this. I used to work with Chadley Bebay and this news is a shocking tragedy to say the least.

Full text:

"Early Wednesday morning Police responded to a 911 call in Bayside, Queens and found a grisly discovery. According to a note found on the scene, Queens man Chadley Q. Bebay III committed suicide by jumping off of the top floor of an apartment building. Bebay was not a resident, but when police searched the apartment window Bebay jumped from, they found the badly decomposed body of popular internet blogger Rick Flemming, 53. Bebay left a suicide note claiming he had accidently killed Flemming by forcing him to drink copious amounts of alcohol. The note went on to say Bebay was convicted of aggrevated assault months ago and was forced to abandon his internet activities. The assault charges stemmed which from an online argument. The judge sentenced Bebay to probation, house arrest, and limited his internet usage for employment purposes only. In an effort to return to entertainment blogging, Bebay tracked down his mother’s apparent former lover, Flemming, and blackmailed him into hiring him, thus allowing Bebay to return to blogging. But things got very grim; as the note goes on to explain. Bebay was keeping Flemming drunk more and more of the time, until Flemming choked on his own vomit, while tied naked to a chair. Bebay let the body decompose in Flemming's apartment, which Bebay continued to live in. After struggling with guilt for two months, Bebay plunged to his death. Services have not been scheduled."

I killed Rick Flemming and Now I must Commit Suicide.

Sorry everyone. This is the last you will ever hear from me.


I have killed Rick Flemming. I forced alcohol down his throat until he puked on his own vomit. Now I am going to kill myself.

I am so sorry for everything.

Chadley Q. Bebay

Beverly Hills Chi-wa-wa.

Hey Peepists!
Its so nice to be back online with y'all reporting on movies. Its my passion... My life's passion. My boss Rick Flemming is only on the second of 12 steps, so I am gonna be taking over for quite some time...
This weekend I had the absolute pleasure of seeing Beverly Hills

Chihuahua. This flick had it all. A talking dog (who was just as cute as a button), racist jokes, (I'm a sucker for jokes that celebrate our differences), and the flashy glamour you can only find in L.A. I loved the movie, but I did have an attack of IBS, and had to sit out for a while. Literally!! HAHAHA... So. I don't know whats happening to me. ThiNGs ArE LooKING StrANGE...Um... I have weird thoughts sometimes... Sometimes I get a tickle in my rectum... I picture myself choking the next-door neighbors to death... Mommy? MOMMY?! ARE YOU THERE!??

-Chadley

New Editor in Chief: Chadley Quince BeBay III

Hiya Peepholes! Some of you may know me, some of you may not. I am Chadley Quince BeBay, celebrity entertainment blogger. I rose to stardom co-authoring the hugely popular blog Entertainment Weakey. What a rush that was... After a legal battle stripped me of my rights to engage in movie criticism and heated debate with passionate movie fans, I fell into semi-obscurity. Well, Rick Flemming has granted me access to my beloved fans once again. You see, an exception was made to allow me access to the web if it was for work. All it took was the threat of a paternity suit, and a bottle of Remy Martin a day and I got a job at Flemming on Film. The pay is shit, but... I'm BACK! Let's just say it wasn't hard me to get Rick to sign on the dotted line in his current state. While he recovers from a tiny little relapse, I will be filling in. And let me tell you...I like my new digs....ha. Ha. Ha ha ha. HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!! I will have a new review up for you soon.

-Chad.

From the Vault...Basic Instinct

Sorry I haven't posted in a bit... There has been a bit of a problem. In a post I made a few weeks back I made mention of a waitress named Jenny Bebay, that I may have had a rendezvous with, oh, 20 years ago or so. Seems like her son Chadley thinks I may be his real father. He said he googled her name... and came across my page. Anyway... He won't stop calling. He said he will drop it...if I give him a job at this blog! Can you fucking believe this shit? Anyway, I have to publish another archived review today. I am having a phone-conference with this kid's probation officer...

Basic Instinct (1992)

Ladies and Gentlemen, every 25 or so years, a motion picture comes along that is so inspired, so artfully executed, so cleverly plotted, layered and nuanced, that all other films pale in comparison, as shallow and vapid exercises in mediocrity. And then there are films with lots of tits.

Basic Instinct falls into the latter category, but that does not keep it from earning a place in history. Its an ass-masterwork, a picasso of pussy, a tittie tour de force... And one of the most important..oooh.. uhhhh....mmmm...... uh.. be right back...

Anyway where was I.. Ah yes... From the first time we see Sharon Stone's inviting pussy... uhn..

mmmmm....huhhh..huhhh... Sorry. Uh.. okay, back to the review: Michael Douglas....uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uhhhhhhhh.......ahhhhhh. Whoooo... damn. I'm sorry guys. This movie really stuck with me, I can't seem to...ughhhh.. shake.... it..UHNNNN!!!!!!!! Anyway, great flick....

5 Flems.

Death Race

Hello everyone! I had a wonderful weekend in the Florida Keys. My oh my, what a time. My old college roomate Dan Gorman and his son Brad came down from N.Y. for a couple days. We took the boat out, tossed back a couple brews. It was great... I may have to sell the boat though. Ever since the divorce I have had some serious cashola problems...

Anyway I was asked to an exclusive viewing of this new actioner Death Race, and since I was so stress-free and relaxed from a weekend on the water, I figured why not?

Why not, indeed... This "movie" is tantamount to a 90-minute stream of flatulence blown mercilessly into the viewers face. The leading man looks like my building's Super after a night of drinking, and I don't know if he's Irish or what, but I can't understand a word he says. His head is lumpy and he is going bald. In my day we had real leading men: Burt Renyolds and...well I guess just Burt Renyolds... Anyway, nobody in this picture had one iota of charisma, so I won't hold it against whats-his-name.

Of the countless gripes I have with this 'film', the worst has to be the casting of Tyrese Gibson. He seems put there to serve one sole purpose: To spontaneously laspse into a wide and bright-eyed-grin, squinting and sort of shake his head in joyful disbelief. I don't know... I don't find him cute, and I don't even know what he was supposed to be in this film.

The plot revolves around, you guessed it: a Death Race. Big. Fucking. Deal. This is the kind of script you usually find propping up some exec's wobbly massage table, but somehow it got turned into a real live film. Too bad, there is a Weinstein somewhere with a strained lumbar and he ain't happy.

-1/4 Flems.

From The Vault: Candy Man

Here is another old review from the archives, historical in its significance as it was my first review in Miami. It also marks the first time I went by Rick. Also the rating system was officially changed from "Richards" to "Flems" at the suggestion of Carl Deschamps, then-editor of The Miami Herald. We were the best of friends until his untimely death, and he even claims to have named his kid after me. At this point in my life I was still married, Jasper (my girlish son) was nothing more than a thundercloud on the horizon, I was fucking waitresses left and right (this one waitress.... I'll never forget her name: Jenny Bebay. Sounds hot huh?) I had it all folks. That was, until I reviewed Candyman.

Candyman (1992)-

Hello guys! The name's Rick Flemming, and I am pleased to come from the Salt Lake City Dispatch to join the team here at the Miami Herald. My inaugeral review: Candyman.

My first gripe with this picture is this: The goddamn thing was too dark to see. Now I know what you are thinking...but I'm sorry. I could barely see Candyman. Also his voice was constantly overpowered by the score, which consisted of one sustained note. Not a good note, either. One of the bad notes. The leading lady was chewing gum loudly through every scene, and I swear to god I saw toilet paper stuck to her shoe. Candyman's hook was obviously rubber, easily squishing against whatever surface it touched, but I noticed an even stranger phenomenon: At the end of many scenes, I could actually hear the word "Cut!" being shouted from off-scene. All in all the movie was outrageously awful. A steaming column of dung standing upright on its own, begging to be squashed. Well, I will gladly be the one to squash it.
-Half a Flem