John Oliver, on his HBO show, featured a topic that connects indirectly to my life. Although we've never met, John Oliver and I were both involved—unwittingly—in what I consider the worst film we ever worked on: The Love Guru. I still have the loveguru2008@yahoo.com email as a soverneir -its release date. We didn’t have personal contact, and I hadn’t heard of him at the time, but since The Love Guru marked the peak of my behind-the-scenes fame, it’s likely he heard of me before he left Toronto.
Regardless, Olivers show recently discussed a strange auction. I initially thought the episode was new—airing in 2025—but later found out it was a repeat from 2015. So, it's all old news. The focus was on a jockstrap worn by Russell Crowe during the filming of Cinderella Man. (Back in 2003 I saw Crowe in said jock strap daily for over four months of filming chaos.) Oliver’s show apparently bought the jockstrap and donated it to one of the last surviving Blockbuster stores in Alaska. Later, the item was reportedly stolen—either by professional thieves or by random chance. HBO, naturally, turned it into a spectacle, joking that a team of master thieves had been hired by Russell Crowe to recover his manhood.
Filming Cinderella Man was one of the longer gigs I had, stretching over nearly half a year. It became a 12-hour-a-day, 4-to-5-day-a-week job—sometimes even 18-hour days, with meal breaks and moments of socializing.
I once snuck my friend Roger from the U.S. onto the set. Thanks to a prank I pulled on the director—and a stroke of luck—we ended up having a private conversation with Russell Crowe himself. At one point, we even sang a bit of O Canada together. He was proud to have learned the Canadian national anthem. In fact, there were mornings where over a thousand crew members would start the day by singing O Canada to boost morale. I never made it in that early, so I missed those moments.
British Police ARREST People For Carrying CASH
The Death of Cash and the Illusion of Freedom “Is this real? Can this be real?” The refrain echoes after watching that viral clip of a man in Britain attempting to pay for groceries with cash, only to be rebuffed. The video plays like satire, a dystopian sketch about state overreach and creeping corporate control, yet it is merely reportage. We scoff, and yet the absurdity masks a truth already embedded in our lives: cash—the bedrock of anonymity and autonomy—is being legislated, ridiculed, and algorithmically erased in plain sight. In Canada, my own recent encounter at Fan Expo Toronto brought this home with theatrical flair. After a day of navigating aisles of overpriced collectibles and expensive caffeine, I attempted to pay for lunch in cash. The response was cold and swift: “We don’t take cash.” No negotiation, no pretense, no apology. One vendor even laughed. A decade ago, this would have been unthinkable—cash was both king and constitutional expectation. Now, cash makes one l...
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