Jefferson was invited to attend a celebration of the nation’s 50th birthday, but he was not well enough to travel. He responded to the invitation as follows:

“Let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollections of the rights of man, and an undiminished devotion to them.”

In an amazing coincidence, John Adams and Jefferson, co-signers of the Declaration of Independence, rivals, second and third presidents of the nation, died on the same day – and that day happened to be the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence! Their deaths, 196 years ago today, left Charles Carroll as the last living co-signer of the Declaration. (He would live six more years, to age 95.)

Have a good 4th!

It is Giant Pink Japanese Penis Day in the Year of Our Shatner 91.

Whether you count your years in A.D. or A.S., may you and yours have a most blessed holiday. Although the Giant Pink Japanese Penis Parade has been cancelled, and no vendors will be selling the delightfully refreshing Giant Pink Japanese Penis Pops, we should never forget the true meaning of Giant Pink Japanese Day.

Whatever that is.

Perhaps we can learn from the second-wisest man in history:

“Maybe Giant Pink Japanese Penis Day doesn’t come from a store.
Maybe Giant Pink Japanese Penis Day means a little bit more.”

Or to quote the wisest:

Hemingway once wrote, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” The same is true of Giant Pink Japanese Penis Day. Oh, sure, this year we will miss the Giant Pink Japanese Penis Carols, and the crazy students will miss their chance to participate in the traditional Running of the Dicks, but the real Giant Pink Japanese Penis is inside all of us.

So to speak.

You can keep your bowl games and your In Memoriam segments. The best way to celebrate a New Year is to look at the best nude scenes from the previous one.

We’ve had ups and downs over the years. There have been spectacular years like 2014, when Alexandra Daddario, ScarJo and Margot Robbie all graced us with their full-frontal debuts. It was such a good year that I had to expand the list to 25 scenes in order to include some great scenes like Elizabeth Olsen in Oldboy. And there have been total duds like 2008, when lower frontal nudity had almost been declared extinct.

In general, 2021 was one of the best years overall for the quality of the nudity, but not for the familiarity of the performers. There was no great full-frontal standout from a big name or in a familiar production, so nothing matched the three performances I mentioned from 2014, but there is not a dud in the top ten, and our voters generally gave the great scenes the recognition they deserved, from the biggest releases to the most obscure foreign films. As I re-watched the scenes this week, I was again dazzled by the beauty of Vivi Koenig, the full-blown insanity of Agathe Rousselle and Daria Polasik-Bulka, the masterful writing and photography featuring beautiful Lea Seydoux, the incredibly lengthy exposure of Odessa Young, the dedication of Sarah Shahi, the unearthly figure of Sydney Meyer, the daring of Maryse Miege … and that’s just a sample. Some of those, and other brilliant scenes, couldn’t even crack the top 20. In fact, there are some great nude performances that didn’t even make it to the final poll: Paulina Gaitan and Daphne Patakia come to mind immediately.

I rarely give in to the “popularity contest” aspect of the competition. In general, I try to seek out a truly meritorious scene rather than a popular favorite. In my typical process I would have voted for Odessa Young or Daria Polasik-Bulka, but this year I didn’t vote with my head. I let other body parts determine the selection, and I realized that Sydney Sweeney creates as much of a stir in me as she does in everyone else. I joined many of you in giving her a record-breaking victory, in which she garnered as many votes as the next four choices added together.

Here is the 2021 recap, including a link to brief film clips from each of the winners.

Here is a list of the top tens from the entire Scoopy era (1995-2021, the lifespan of the site), with links to the full recaps for each individual year.

Here is a mini search engine that goes through all of the lists (and nothing else).


For reference:

Here is the final numerical tally from the 2021 voting.

Here are the results of the semi-final poll, which determined the candidates in the final selection. It’s kind of interesting to see how the list differed from the final results. Some mediocre scenes, like Daddario in The White Lotus, got a lot of attention when people could offer an opinion on every scene, but when voters were forced to name only their very favorite scene, the so-so entries fell by the wayside, replaced by … well, by great scenes worthy of being called the best of the year. (Note: three late entries or omissions were added to the final poll. One of those, Odessa Young in Mothering Sunday, deservedly made the top ten!)

Here is the original list of nominees, with links to pics and/or clips from every performance.


And most important, let’s all have a happy new year and a happy nude year in 2022. Thanks to all of you for participating in the poll, and for reading the “other crap” that appears here every day.

No, I’m not in Hawaii. Just wishing I was.


Joyeux Noël

Frohe Weihnachten

God Jul

Feliz Navidad

С Рождеством

Those are the only ones I know by heart. (And I don’t really know much French, but that one is commonplace.)

The Norwegians really have a gift for minimalism. (“God jul”). I loved to watch old American movies in Olso with Norwegian subtitles. There’d be a cowboy movie where the sheriff would deliver some prolix exhortation like “Let’s vamoose, boys, and cut ’em ornery varmints off at the pass,” and it would be translated into Norwegian as “Kom.”

I found the opposite in Italy. A film character might say, “Why not?” and the Italian equivalent would require a full page of translation, followed by an ellipsis, with the translation continued on the next slide.

It is so named in honor of the greatest role of my favorite living character actor (since Wilford Brimley died), and my fellow Longhorn, the F man himself. Happy 82nd birthday, you magnificent, Mozart-killing bastard.

Important Salieri info:

1. The F doesn’t stand for anything. His name is Murray Abraham, but he thought that sounded undistinguished and pedestrian, so he added an initial to make him sound special. He chose F in particular in honor of his dad. (Wikipedia) In theory, it should be written without the period, since F is just F and not an abbreviation, but he spells it with the period.

2. If you have never heard him speak as himself, you should Google him. Unlike the other people I make fun of, he is cultured, spiritual, articulate, generous and highly intelligent. He plays sinister characters because he has a baleful appearance. Some people assume that actors with faces like Abraham and John Colicos must resemble the characters they play, but they are just actors making optimal use of an asset – their villainous countenance. An example of the F man’s classy nature can be found in his Oscar acceptance speech.

3. In slight contradiction to what I wrote above, the F Man appears to have gotten a bit of a swollen head after he won that Oscar. The director of The Name of the Rose, Jean-Jacques Annaud, described Abraham as an “egomaniac” on the set, who considered himself more important than Sean Connery because Connery did not have an Oscar. That must have been quite a match of outspoken egos, since Connery himself is no shrinking violet.

4. Nah, the real Salieri wasn’t evil either, and there is no evidence that he somehow caused Mozart’s death. That was merely the gossip of ignorant idlers until the great Pushkin, who was basically the Russian Shakespeare, gave the whole thing credence when he wrote a play about it shortly after Salieri’s death, using jealousy as his fictional motivation for Salieri’s actions. Pushkin was a brilliant wordsmith, some say the very creator of modern Russian, but he was no historian, and was also a hot-headed ass whose character flaw was … (wait for it) … jealousy. In English we often use the expression “fatal character flaw” with no regard for the literal meaning. In Pushkin’s case, his propensity for jealousy was indeed fatal. You can assume that his version of Salieri is a rather obvious subconscious representation of himself. In reality, Antonio Salieri was respected by both Beethoven and Mozart, and all of Mozart’s closest friends and associates continued to associate cordially with Salieri after Mozart’s death.

5. The great genius’s name, at least the part between the Wolfgang and the Mozart, was not Amadeus at all. In birth it was Theophilus – Greek for “beloved of God.” Amadeus is simply the Latin equivalent. Mozart himself used the French, German and Italian versions at various times. (Amade, Gottlieb and Amadeo, respectively.) A benefit concert for Mozart’s family was held in Prague on December 28, 1791, billed as “Concert in memory of Wolfgang Gottlieb Mozart.” On his marriage registration, it has been mysteriously Anglicized to “Adam” – Wolfgang Adam Mozart! His earliest biographers used Gottlieb as a middle name. As far as we know, Mozart never once referred to himself as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, although he did jokingly sign correspondence in pseudo-Latin as Wolfgangus Amadeus Mozartus. Somehow, in the 19th century, Mozart’s little jest became his posthumous reality. (Many details here.)

SIDEBAR: Tom Hulce played Mozart in that film. If he were cast today, he is nearly a dead ringer for Steve Bannon.

And, of course, your lusted ones as well as your loved ones. May they never meet on this most sacred of holidays.

Well, OK, maybe National Orgasm Day is not more sacred on the Scoopy Calendar than Shatner’s Birthday or Giant Pink Japanese Penis Day. That’s debatable, depending on which specific branch of Scoopianity you subscribe to. It’s like Christians arguing whether Easter is more sacred than Christmas.

It is the 25th anniversary of Uncle Scoopy’s Fun House!

(Well, it might be today. It was in November of 1995. So let’s say today, since I happened to think of it.)

That’s a long time. It started in Bill Clinton’s first term. That’s a lot of editions – somewhere around 9000. I’m not sure how many editions there were in 1995 and 1996, because I couldn’t write it every day back then. I was traveling internationally in those 14.4 modem days, and there were plenty of places with no internet connections, or connections so slow they were useless. I tried, but I just couldn’t write my crappy little “e-zine” in relatively remote and primitive places like Nicaragua, Zimbabwe, Papua New Guinea and Indiana.

Sorry, Hoosiers. I’m just fuckin’ witcha.

But we have published an edition every day, seven days a week, for the last 23 of those 25 tours around the sun. I say “we” because three other people besides me have published the daily fun house, although I have contributed in some way every day. On the days when I didn’t assemble the page, I contributed a column, or links, or movie reviews and/or collages.

For trivia buffs, the other three guys who assembled and wrote the front page:

  • Tuna, now deceased, a computer professional from the San Francisco area, who only wrote about 15 pages at the very end of 1999, but contributed his comments and collages to thousands of pages. (He created about 100,000 collages.) In addition to  celebrity imaging, and running a hosting service, he was a brilliant photographer.
  • The Realist, an infrequent contributor, but an avid fan and a neighbor of mine in Austin, who left Texas to become an Ivy League assistant professor in the frozen north. He wrote the page for about a month when I was traveling with my two youngest kids. I don’t hear from him any more. It has been fifteen or twenty years since our young genius left for the north, so I suppose he is probably a full professor by now.
  • Scoopy Jr., my oldest son, another Austinite, who wrote the daily page for about three years (close to 1000 pages) while I concentrated exclusively on movie collages and reviews.

As for this page, Other Crap, it’s a real Johnny-come-lately by my standards. It has only been around for 17 1/2 years!

Luscious Luke was my favorite player when I was a kid. If you grew up in Rochester or Buffalo, you will probably say the same thing. He was a local legend. Although a kind-hearted man who was a clubhouse joker, he was a brute in the batters’ box. He was 240 pounds of muscle with shoulders that seemed as wide as two ordinary men, and he could hit the ball as hard as anyone ever has – as hard as Bo Jackson, Giancarlo Stanton, Babe Ruth or Mickey Mantle. In fact, if you want to imagine him, just picture a black version of Stanton. By the time I saw him, Luke was nearly 50, wore glasses to bat, and was slow to time the fast ball – but was so strong that he hit 400-foot homers to the opposite field.

Wikipedia summarizes:

“As a player, Easter was best known for his powerful home runs, colloquially known as “Easter Eggs.” While with the Homestead Grays in 1948, he became the first player to hit a home run into the center field bleachers at New York’s Polo Grounds during game action, a section that was 475 feet from home plate. During his rookie season, he also hit the longest home run in the history of Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium, a 477-foot blast over the auxiliary scoreboard in right field. The only other player to match that feat was Mickey Mantle, who did it in 1960. Finally, during his twilight days with the Bisons, he became the first player to hit a home run over the center field scoreboard at Buffalo’s home park, Offermann Stadium, doing so twice in 1957. On June 14 he cleared the board, and newspapers reported the blow at an estimated 500 feet.[Rochester, New York, Democrat and Chronicle, June 15, 1957, p. 21] On August 15, he hit the board near the top, and it went through a space between the board and a sign just above it.[Rochester, New York, Democrat and Chronicle, August 16, 1957, p. 26]

When told by a fan one time that the fan had seen Easter’s longest home run in person, Easter is reported to have replied, “If it came down, it wasn’t my longest.””

Luke was already a PCL legend when he made it to the majors. In 1949 he batted .363 for San Diego with a .722 slugging average.

Nobody is really sure when Luke was born, and the big guy offered a different birth year every time he was asked. The census data indicate he was born in 1915, making him a major league rookie at 35. Despite his advanced years in baseball terms, Luke had three great years with Cleveland.

1950: 28 homers, 107 RBI
1951: 27-103
1952: 31-97

After the Indians cut him, he went on to hit more than 200 minor league homers.

Here is a really great article about Luke’s colorful life, mostly about the early days of his career.

“What’s to-day, my fine fellow?”

“To-day? You don’t know? Why, Shatmas Day! Oh, good sir, with due respect, if you don’t know Shat, you don’t know Shit.”

There are those who, with apologies to pretenders like Alexander Graham Bell and the not-as-great Gretzky, call Bill Shatner the greatest of all Canadians. That’s nonsense. Why restrict his importance to a single frozen land with fewer than 40 million inhabitants? He is simply the greatest HUMAN.

Today is his 89th birthday. What is he up to? “William Shatner Provides Delightful Self-Quarantine Updates As Captain Kirk.

Like most of his followers, I celebrate by getting into costume and re-enacting one of his many career highlights. I normally choose this all-time classic:

But that scene requires two actors, which is inappropriate in the era of Coronavirus and social distancing, so this year I have chosen to re-enact the fight scene from White Comanche, since Shatner plays both parts.