..........like Dino’s hand in Kim Novak’s kleenex box did.

Hey pallies, likes a bit 'go dudes we were really bummed 'cause likes when we tried to access google blog search to do our usual daily dose of Dino-searchin' what came up was simple the regular google search engine....and everytime we have tried since, no can do.  It appears that the google blog search has been put outta commission permanently.

 So, likes what do we do now dudes?  Likes, we decided to search for other web sources for searchin' blogs for our most beloved Dino and we found a few, but so far the best one we have located is a blog search tagged "TWINGLY" and it has so far provided some deeply deeply delightful Dino-treasure to share with all youse Dino-holics, includin' today's Dino-gram...so we are terrifically thankful for new ways to access Dino-scribin's on the 'net.

So, through the courtesy of TWINGLY blog search we share with you a potent post from the self-tagged blog "Brick Wahl - I'm a writer. But there are zillions of writers. Here's some of my stuff."  Likes when we were directed to Mr. Wahl's pad, we sez to ourselves, "we've been hear before"....likes with a tag likes "Brick Wahl," one ain't likely to forget it.

We did a bit of researchin' the ol' ilovedinomartin archives and found  THIS POST by Mr. Wahl that we shared almost a year 'go on May 15, 2015.  We tagged this powerful post "Nothing is more Dean Martin than Dean Martin"....words taken directly from Brick's remarkable reflections on Stan Cornyn's al-b-um liner notes from our Dino's disc "Happiness Is Dean Martin."  Truly Brick is a keen knower of deep digger of our one and only Dino, so we are most delighted to today return to his blog for more Dino-edification.

His recent Dino-scribin's are tagged "I’m a Poached Egg," that refers to a song taken from the Dino-epic "Kiss Me Stupid."  We deeply digs how Mr. Wahl refers to how.... "The critics hated Kiss Me Stupid," but himself proudly proclaims " I love Kiss Me Stupid."  Need we say more pallies...Mr. Brick Wahl has the bestest of best Dino-taste!  You are goin' to have to read Wahl's wise words for youselves to get their incredible impact dudes!

We once 'gain salute blogger Mr. Brick Wahl for more awesome adulation of our King of Cool at his ubber unique blog.  We wishes that many more pallies have Brick's intriguin' insights to our main man!  To checks this out in it's original source, simply clicks on the tag of this here Dino-report.
Dino-delightedly, DMP

I’m a Poached Egg

Posted on March 17, 2016 by Brick Wahl

I remember the first time I ever saw Kiss Me Stupid (probably on TCM, who rescued it from the Pauline Kael Home for the Morally Depraved) and Dean Martin (as Dino) runs into a police roadblock and says What’s the matter? That Sinatra kid missing again? I knew Billy Wilder had pulled out all the stops, as the kidnapping had only happened a few months before. I always wondered what Frank said. It was a funny line, after all, and a laugh is a laugh. It was certainly funnier than anything in Robin and the 7 Hoods, which Frank was making at the time, with Dean Martin, and which the critics thought was just fine, even though it’s not especially funny, and they forgot to keep the palm trees out of the shots. Palm trees in Chicago. A lotta laughs. But Frank was distracted with the kidnapping, and who cares about a stray palm tree in a dumb movie anyway

The critics hated Kiss Me Stupid. They hated the story, they hated the script, they hated the cast (Peter Sellers was supposed to play the Ray Walston part, incidentally, but had a heart attack on the set.) I love Kiss Me Stupid. Now Irma La Douce I’m not too nuts about, it kind of drags on about an hour and a half too long, though it might have made a nice two parter sitcom–but at least that didn’t bring about the fall of western civilization like Dino’s hand in Kim Novak’s kleenex box did. The Catholic Legion of Decency went through the countryside, trying to scare up another crusade. By the hand of God the movie flopped, was pulled from the theaters, and Billy Wilder shamed and broken (he made one more minor classic, The Fortune Cookie, and then a string of box office losers), but it was too late. Pretty soon everyone is running around naked and the seventies began in a cloud of cocaine. But we know why. I’m a Poached Egg, that’s why

But then what do I know from movies anyway? I don’t even like Ingmar Bergman films. But I do know funny, and I’m a Poached Egg is funny. Maybe not the way it was intended, not as Ira Gershwin wrote it. George was working up I Got Rhythm. Ira comes in with some lyrics. George is on the melody, da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da. I’m a poached egg, Ira sings, without a piece of cheese. I’m Da Vinci, without the Mona Leez. Mona Leez? George yells, and threatens to call Cole Porter.

You had to be there.