Swift Boat Veterans Confirm John Kerry’s Cabinet Nomination

Ha ha ha, just kidding! The vile conservative ex-military group Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, widely credited with a successful smearing of 2004 presidential candidate John Kerry’s military service, actually has nothing to do with who is selected to succeed Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State. When they weigh in on the matter as if their position counts for anything, they’re just making sure that we know that they still (unfortunately) exist.

But, with or without the generous backing of Karl Rove’s reelection machine, weigh in they must. BuzzFeed reports that “Kenneth Cordier, a former POW who appeared in a Swift Boat ad in 2004 and was kicked off President Bush’s campaign because of it” wrote an email that "Pretty much I was hoping that Ms. [Condoleezza] Rice would get the nomination and then they would battle it out in the Senate.” Oh man, hoping Obama would appoint Bush’s Secretary of State? These guys are nuttier than we thought! That’s what a stint in Vietnam will do for you.

What I love most of all, however, is that the Swift Boaters, who were so opposed to an anti-war but decorated veteran in a position of national security, have decided not to launch another slanderous broadside on the man as he ascends to power, despite promising they would back in November. Could it be that they’re all fibbed out? No more money under the mattress? Or maybe they just noticed that under Obamacare, more than half a million veterans will gain health coverage. And you don’t want to rock that (swift) boat.

Fox News Anchors Collectively Lose Their Minds During Romney Defeat

I’m sleepy today, as I stayed up way too late watching Republicans freak the hell out over the idea of having a black guy in charge of things for another four years (and, you know, the concept that rape victims shouldn’t be forced to keep their unwanted children because even unwanted babies need the love of Our Heavenly Father and should carry the stigma of their conception forever). But it was worth it, because last night’s Fox News coverage was art. Art. With a capital A! 

Luckily, The Daily Beast has a good collection of the best moments, including the one in which Karl Rove was like, "No. No. No. Unpossible. This can’t be happening. NOT TO THE WHITE GUYS!" and Bill O’Reilly lamenting the fact that people with accents and limp wrists and vaginas might actually have some sway over how this country moves forward. But for my money, there’s nothing better than watching hottie anchor Megyn Kelly wander around the Fox News HQ in an effort to prolong the admission that her beloved Mitt Romney lost the race. 

Follow Tyler Coates on Twitter.

Follow The ‘Republican Tears’ Twitter Account Tonight

Obama’s got this election in the bag, baby, and now the 24-hour cable news drones have got to spend the entire day pretending that it’s going to be remotely close. Pretty boring and deliberately uninformative stuff! It’d be more fun to keep tabs on the hyperventilating conservatives who don’t believe in math but do have baffling, anecdote-based faith in a Romney landslide. That’s where @GOP_Tears comes in.

A beautifully curated list of all the most craven and swinish commentators, pundits and bloggers, from Michelle Malkin to Karl Rove, Donald Trump and Dana Loesch, ‘Republican Tears’ funnels all possible right-wing idiocy into a resplendent cascade without you having to follow any such undesirable personalities for real. Each will be faced with the flimsiness of their smug yet pie-eyed predictions this evening.

The feed promises to ‘follow the GOP meltdown in real time!’ And as the results start rolling in, that is exactly what we’ll be seeing. One especially looks forward to hysterical accusations of voter fraud and intimidation, seething racism, demands for a recount, and Karl Rove calling Ohio—and by extension the whole fight—for the incumbent president. Oh, it’ll be a glorious collision of reality and fantasy. Won’t you join us?

Follow Miles Klee on Twitter.

Movie Reviews: ‘Splice’, ‘I Am Love’, ‘Solitary Man’

I Am Love – In the mannered melodrama I Am Love, director Luca Guadagnino invites us into the lives of the moneyed Recchi family through its kitchen. With painstaking, extended close-ups, he focuses on the Recchi servants as they place, with trained precision, flatware on whiteclothed dining tables. All of this structured pomp is a metaphor for the traditions that stifle the spirit of the clan’s gracious matriarch, Emma (Tilda Swinton). But when Emma meets her son’s friend, a chef named Antonio (Edoardo Gabbriellini), she breaks out of her routine and the focus on cutlery disappears. Their initial spark explodes into a full-blown, all-consuming, gorgeous Italian affair, which climaxes when Emma is forced to choose between the stability of her past and her risky, lustful reawakening. As a caged bird desperate to escape, Swinton has never been better. —Nick Haramis

Solitary Man – At 65, Michael Douglas can still walk the walk. Over the opening credits of Solitary Man, he strides through the streets of Manhattan, cutting a trim, handsome figure—and his character, Ben Kalmen, knows it. That’s his problem. Ben is well into his midlife crisis: he has already left his wife (Susan Sarandon), already destroyed his high-powered career and already bedded scores of pretty young things. Broke and unfocused, he is charming to the point of smarminess, a good time to the point of being unethical (he believably and creepily seduces the 18-year-old daughter of his girlfriend, Jordan, played by an icy Mary-Louise Parker). He’s also a liability as a father, grandfather and friend. Needless to say, he’s fun to watch. —Willa Paskin

Looking for Eric – On paper, English director Ken Loach’s Looking for Eric overflows with indie-movie clichés: troubled, middle-aged postman Eric Bishop’s life is falling apart; his sons don’t listen to him—and one of them is mixed up with a gangster; he’s still in love with the woman he left when he was in his twenties; and he’s having conversations with a figment of his imagination (the great Manchester United soccer player, Eric Cantona, who plays himself in the film). The hallucinated life coach even convinces Bishop (Steve Evets) to seize the day and take control of his circumstances. But credit goes to Loach for bringing his characteristic low-key realism to bear on the project, extracting the twee and leaving the sweetness. If the movie’s culmination feels a bit stagey, the naturalistic conversations and good cheer between friends balance it out. —W.P.

Splice – Director Vincenzo Natali’s (Cube) latest film is a cautionary tale, but it’s never clear against what, exactly, we’re being cautioned: Post-millennial parenting? Science as big business? The lust for power? Geneticists Elsa (Sarah Polley) and Clive (Adrien Brody), a young married couple who work for a pharmaceutical company, combine animal DNA to make throbbing slime-blobs. After Elsa throws her own genes into the spin-cycle, she and Clive welcome into the world an ersatz daughter—one with gills and wings—named Dren (Delphine Chanéac). There are moments of sci-fi beauty in the film, which is shot through with all kinds of creature-making tricks, but they’re too infrequent to make up for the story’s icky subplot, in which Clive puts the “orgasm” back in “organism” by bedding his pubescent progeny. —N.H.

Casino Jack and the United States of Money – For a certain kind of scumbag, the life of“über-lobbyist” Jack Abramoff might make for a heartwarming bildungsroman: a college Republican grows up and gets rich shilling for crooked countries, bribing congressmen and screwing over Native American tribes. For everyone else, it’s a sobering look at the sad, corrupt circle-jerk that constitutes modern life in Washington. Oscar winner Alex Gibney’s documentary is far less ham-fisted than the works of his liberal peer Michael Moore, and his use of source material—an email exchange between Abramoff and his co-conspirator Michael Scanlon that includes hilarious frat-boy hip-hop slang like “You da man”—is impeccable. Footage of a dapper, teenage Karl Rove is, on its own, worth the price of admission. —Scott Indrisek