Marlon Brando Crazy Abusive Antics

""This may sound crazy but, in time, a few other people who’d also worked for him offered convincing evidence that he had more than likely eavesdropped on their private conversations. Alice Marchak, who knew Marlon better than most, considering she’d worked for him twenty-five years, decided his eavesdropping was certainly very possible. She and I laughed about the craziness of his antics, but we weren’t about to throw cautionto the wind, and we sometimes resorted to communicating with each other by writing notes back and forth and then shredding them immediately after reading them. All the while, we’d keep an oral conversation going about some benign topic while having our private conversation in writing. Alice had figured out that whenever a tiny red LED on the telephone was lit up it indicated Marlon was

currently spying on our conversation. Some of Marlon’s secretaries felt sure he’dalso monitored their home telephones. Two of them in particular told me he’d repeated to them specific phrases they’d used only in recent private telephone conversations they’d had with others from their home. They told me Marlon couldn’t have possibly known the precise phrases they’d used the night before, unless he’d been eavesdropping. They told me who they thought Marlon worked with to tap the phone lines for him on his behalf. Needless to say, all of us who worked for Marlon found this to be very disconcerting.

I already mentioned how Alice told me when she thought we were being monitored when we were speaking in various rooms around his house. Once she figured out that the microphone transmitters were probably the small transistor radios inconspicuously placed in the office, the kitchen, and, much to her horror, even her private bathroom in the house, she immediately moved the one out of her bathroom and placed it instead in the bedroom in which she slept while staying at his house. As she knew Marlon had retired for the night to his bedroom at the opposite end of the house, she decided to test her theory that he was eavesdropping through that radio.

She therefore put a pillow in front of the small transistor radio in her bedroom to muffle the sound. And sure enough, within minutes, Marlon was knocking on her door. He nosed around in her room a few minutes, pretending he was there for some benign reason, finally picking up the pillow and placing it elsewhere,before he said goodnight, inadvertently confirming to Alice what she’d thought he was up to was really what he was up to. Why she didn’t confront him about it, I’ll never understand. I would have gone nuts, personally."

"The beginning of August, 1991, Marlon left to spend several months in Europe with his daughter Cheyenne, who’d been under constant psychiatric care. While Marlon was in Europe, he telephoned most every day to check in with me and Alice and let us know how things were going there with him and Cheyenne. Once I asked him whether he might need my help in Paris, and whether he wanted me to come work for him there for a little while.

“Well, I could have you come here, Nancy. But then that would involve cocksucking,” he answered matter-of-factly, “and I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

I may have set myself up for that response somehow, but I didn’t see it coming. My response to him was my silence, mainly because I was shocked that he’d said it. After I hung up the phone, I went outside and told Alice Marchak what Marlon had said to me. She shook her head disapprovingly and said he could be sued for sexual harassment for saying that to me.

"...My relationship was changing with Marlon. I don’t know what he expected when he asked me to join him in Madrid, but I thought I was going to be his assistant. The evening before my dinner with Tom Selleck, I’d been sitting with Marlon in his room at the Palace Hotel. On this particular evening, Marlon had his bare foot up on the coffee table before me, and I was sitting next to him. I noticed his toenails were quite jagged. I quickly fetched an emery board, as well as a few other utensils I could use to work on his cuticles, from the bathroom. With my back to him, I gave him a quick pedicure as he sat on the sofa quietly observing the process. I was massaging his feet with a moisturizer to complete the job when I looked back at him and noticed he was grinning broadly.

“I feel great affection from you, Nancy,” Marlon said to me. “You do that so lovingly.” Suddenly self-conscious, I laughed, shyly. “You seem so lonely,” he went on. “You’re in great need of affection.” He paused a while, seemingly in deep thought before he spoke again. “You need to be made love to, Nancy. I could do it, or it could be somebody else who would make love to you. But you need somebody to fulfill your needs.”

“You do that so expertly,” he quipped, “I could just as easily have you sucking my cock.” “What does that mean?” I asked, beginning to feel defensive. “This is my gift to you,” Marlon answered. “This is the service I can do for you.”

I’m not sure why exactly, but his remark made me feel deeply insulted. I wondered if, perhaps, he was viewing me as some sort of charity case, a woman in desperate need of some kind of sexual interlude, I shuddered as I pulled away from him, wondering if he really believed I needed his sexual charity and letting me suck his cock was his idea of a gift.."

TBH, even if he were still the man in my linked image, I would find hin and his behavior repulsive.

Extreme Assholery makes a man so unattractive.

He's all Id, isn't he?

Rita Moreno talked about the time he socked her in the jaw.

RM: My relationship with Marlon initially was that he was gorgeous. He was the king of sexual gods. Marlon really was charismatic. He was the kind of man who would stop traffic. So what’s a poor little Puerto Rican girl to do for god’s sake?

I fell madly in love with him and he fell madly in love with me, but it turns out he was the king of philanderers and he was not about to be trapped in one relationship with one woman. It took eight years for me to wrest myself loose from that and a suicide attempt to help make that happen. And it wasn’t an attempt, I really meant business.

(on working together in THE NIGHT OF THE FOLLOWING DAY)

RM: There was one scene that took place in that movie … where I’m very angry at him. My character accuses him of being with someone else and slaps him and a fight ensues. Now I really have a thing about violence, even when it’s make believe. I’ll do anything I can not to hit somebody.

But Marlon said “You have to really smack me. You can’t fake it or I’m not going to react the right way.” So we rehearsed it a lot and we improvised most of our dialogue. And we get to the part and I slapped him and something so frightening happened and he looked at me … and I thought, “Oh my god, he is taking in all the pond scum that we had been through together for eight years.” And he hauled off and socked me so hard on the jaw. I went berserk. And then all my pond scum stuff came up. It was crazy. And I attacked him and he got frightened. It’s the realest scene. The director said I’m not cutting a thing and I’m leaving it just the way it is.

"My first meeting with Tarita was unusual to say the least. I had gone to gather clothes to be laundered from Marlon's bungalow. Opening the door, I saw a naked Tarita tied to the bed. As I reached to untie her, she said: 'No, no! Marlon kill me!' I convinced Marlon to return to the bungalow and release her. What possessed him to tie her up? He proclaimed that she had to be punished for lying to him."

"Marlon used to play a game with me called Connect Four. It was a game that was always set up and ready to play in his bedroom sitting area.....

The first time we played the game I lost. Marlon was so happy he immediately insisted we play the game again. The next game we played, however, I beat him. “You cunt!” he said. I was shocked, and embarrassed, and, thus, made no reply. Without another word to me he set up the game again and made the first move. Again, I beat him.

“You cunt!” he said again, with precisely the same frustrated tone in his voice. He was becoming more perturbed. I was feeling rather unnerved myself. I didn’t say anything to him, as the competitive edge was beginning to come out in me, too. We played one more game, and I beat him again, and one last time he said those words to me. “You know, that’s the third time

you’ve called me a cunt. Nobody has ever called me a cunt before in my entire life,” I said, communicating to him with my reprimanding tone that he clearly was crossing the line.

Marlon had chosen to employ Caroline Barrett’s secretarial services instead of mine that night. I felt badly because I was left out, as it were. Before dismissing me to go back to bed, he offered this explanation.

“You must understand, Nancy, that the reason I used Caroline to type these scenes tonight, rather than you, is because Caroline knows how to handle me. For example, if I say to her, ‘Fuck you, you cunt,’ she will simply say to me, ‘Oh, Marlon, don’t be that way.’ I can say anything to her and she doesn’t take it personally because she knows me. You, on the other hand, would be very upset.”

Almost impossible to believe this turned into that.

"Plainly, Marlon had quite an unusual flair when it came to desensitizing me about embarrassing topics. For example, I’ll never forget the day I complained to Marlon that one of the dogs at the house, allegedly Cheyenne’s little black Cocker Spaniel who was rather suspiciously named “Bill,” kept leaving a fresh pile of excrement in the middle of the kitchen floor each morning. And, upon my arrival, as I was usually the first to arrive, I felt it was incumbent upon me to have to clean it up. It was thoroughly disgusting. And the kitchen floor was a tongue-in-groove hardwood floor, which meant the fresh excrement had to be scrubbed out of the grooves in order to clean the floor properly and thoroughly.

I got so frustrated that this ill-behaved little dog kept sneaking into the house to leave these presents that one morning I decided I would leave the fresh pile untouched. I marched myself into Marlon’s bedroom to complain about it to him instead.

“Let’s have a talk about feces, Nancy,”

Marlon said quite seriously, throwing me such an unexpected curve I heard myself laugh out loud in response. Marlon casually made his way to the kitchen to take the matter into his own hands. I pointed out the offensive mess. He talked as I watched him methodically go about cleaning it up.

He grabbed some paper towels and grabbed up the bulk of the dog poop, dumping it into the kitchen trash can, before grabbing the brand new kitchen sponge I’d purchased, and then using that to scrub the remaining fecal matter out of the grooves in the kitchen floor.

His lesson continued to cause me discomfort when the next thing he did was put that soiled sponge into one of the tall clear tumblers I used to drink my beverages from each day, saying he’d sterilize it afterwards. This went hand in hand with his ongoing lecture on the innocuousness of feces. He filled that tumbler, with the sponge in it, to the brim with water. He marched over to the microwave, in which we heated our meals, and put his whole concoction in there. He turned on the microwave, promising me that any bacteria in the glass, or the sponge, would be destroyed after it had been in there for a while. Of course, the water in the glass boiled over, flooding the interior of the microwave oven, leaving quite a disgusting mess to mop up.."

" Even though he had asked me to come. I didn’t last long at his house that night, as the awkwardness continued to escalate... Marlon was hungry and asked me if I’d be so kind as to go get him some cheese from the kitchen. Considering he’d worn himself out just opening the door for me, I was determined to accommodate him in any way that I could. I did, however, express to him that I was a little concerned about his dogs. He had a new Mastiff, Frannie, whom I’d never met, but had been told she was nothing at all like dear old Tim as far as her temperament. In other words, she wasn’t a sweet dog. And there was a second dog, a Rottweiler, who was young but big and, purportedly very good-natured. In any case, both of these dogs were basically guard dogs who were currently asleep in the kitchen.

Marlon instructed me to give, Frannie, the Mastiff, a piece of the cheese, so that she’d leave me alone, promising that’s all that she’d want. But when I got to the kitchen, Frannie scrambled towards the kitchen door from which I’d entered, bolting after me like a battering ram, and at once began barking and growling with such terrible zest I was sure she was going to eat me. I panicked, as I desperately tried to get the cheese from the refrigerator fast enough to ward her off, but that wasn’t even remotely possible.

Marlon was listening to the commotion in the kitchen from his bedroom, as he’d turned on the speakerphone that connected to the kitchen phone. He could tell I was in trouble because his voice boomed over the speaker phone, “Nancy, hurry up and give her the cheese!” The problem was that by this time I’d already given her the cheese but she’d devoured it so quickly I wasn’t able to get out of the kitchen. She had me pinned against the refrigerator, where I found myself stuck, frantically throwing more and more cheese at her. Finally I threw such a giant brick of cheese on the floor, I was able to make a mad dash for the door.

She soon was behind me, managing to nip me in my butt before I could slam the kitchen door on her. I felt her hot steamy breath on my backside, as she sent me back to Marlon’s bedroom with a loud“Woof.” Needless to say, I was completely undone. I tossed the cheese into Marlon’s hands before making a beeline for my purse.

“Are you alright?” he asked, strangely irritated. “I guess, considering your dog just bit me,”I declared. “Oh, she didn’t bite you,” he said, trying to make as little of it as possible. “I didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to…” Marlon began. “I’m not dumb,” I interrupted. “Inexperienced. You don’t know dogs,”

Wtf did I just read??? And why did Nancy keep working for him?

R10 Nancy still loves him till this day as she declared in her book over and over!

Marlon had this strange crazy effect on people who knew him, I've read his 3rd wife (Tarita) book and he treated her very bad and basically ruined her life by her own admission but she kept coming back to him and loving him till the day he died!

Classic BPD. Truly brilliant actor. His talent reigns supreme.

I'd love to hear the gay stories but unfortunately those probably didn't get written down.

"Once in the kitchen, he started looking through the bare refrigerator. The only thing he found there was a round of Boursin cheese. He took a large bite, practically half the entire round. Boursin cheese is a gourmet spread for crackers. The thought of chewing such a huge bit of this cheese instantly repulsed me. Turning around, he reached for a large lemon that was lying on the kitchen counter. As he held the lemon firmly, I reached over to gently cup my hand over his. “You shouldn’t be eating that, Marlon,” I nagged, immediately sorry I’d said anything.

He was more akin to a hungry grizzly bear at that point than he was to a man. Picking up a small sharp serrated knife from the kitchen counter he pointed it into the flesh just between my knuckles and slowly began applying pressure. The expression on his face appeared far too serious to be taken lightly. The point of the knife hadn’t yet pierced my skin, but it hurt, and I was certain it didn’t have far to go before drawing blood. I stared at him in disbelief before deciding it would be wise to release my grip. He carefully withdrew the knife. I took a step back from the kitchen counter, wondering if he might truly be mad after all. In any case, I’d decided I wasn’t about to get in between Marlon and his stupid lemon.

He cut the lemon in half. Hanging his head sideways over the kitchen sink, he squeezed the lemon firmly, allowing the juice to flow into his mouth. His eyes rolled up to look intensely into mine. There was no question he had my rapt attention as he silently hung his head there, albeit sideways, thereby exaggerating the effect of the glistening filaments of saliva streaming out the corner of his mouth as he drooled into the sink.."

He's pure sex, R10. Even when obese and disgusting, he apparently had the same affect on people as when he was gorgeous.

"Sometime later he asked me if I would massage him for a while, so I did my best to accommodate him. It was quite a workout for me and, as it turned out, not very good for him at first. He was lying on his side, so it was very difficult for me to feel exactly where his spine was, and what was bone and what was muscle, or fat, around that. Marlon kept giving me firm commands, sounding none too pleased with my responses. Sometimes, he would moan and say, “Yeah, ahhh.” Other times, he would lose patience with me and snap, “NOB...not on bone!”

Finally, he demanded I give him my foot. As awkward as it was, I had to drape my leg over Marlon’s rib cage for him to reach my foot, as his back was still to me. He proceeded to massage my foot, explaining to me how massage should be done. I didn’t know he’d also expected me to respond to him, to let him know what was feeling good, and what wasn’t. And, when I didn’t, he expressed more frustration. I found myself apologizing to him for giving him such a disappointing massage, even though I knew that was ridiculous.

In the end, he asked me to use the master vibrating massage tool that I’d given him six weeks before, even though he’d apparently forgotten that I was the one who’d given it to him. So, I pulled out the massager from underneath his bed,, and went to work on one entire side of his body, until I was exhausted and dripping with sweat..."

.....

Talented actor but he was a horrible person

Crazy indeed! Lolz.

......

Call me crazy but I think Marlon' bad treatment/abuse to women escalated and worsened after his messy relationship/divorce with his first wife Anna Kashfi. I believe he had already rooted issues with women because of his mother but Anna Kashfi craziness was the Straw that broke the camel's back.

"He kept either punishing women for having the capacity to do that to men and he kept punishing himself by finding women who were very often unreliable"

-- Rita Moreno on Marlon Brando

[quote] He's pure sex, [R10]. Even when obese and disgusting, he apparently had the same affect on people as when he was gorgeous.

I know I'm hard as a rock just looking at OP's photos!

No, they put up with the abuse for $$$$$$$.

From Tarita Teriipia' roughly translated memoir "Marlon, mon amour, ma déchirure"

"I celebrate my 22nd birthday that night of 30 December 1963 and I am alone with my seven month old baby. For the first time I feel silly to expect anything from a man who no longer touches me and whose life far away from me. And the next day I meet René......

Nevertheless, I have the need to notify Marlon about the liaison. The idea of cheating on him or lying to him is unbearable to me, and so I write him that there is now another man in my life. I expect that it will be a matter of indifference to him. But for me it means to put an end to our love story and not to wait and hope. But as soon as Marlon has received my letter, he calls me to my amazement. And I notice immediately by his voice that this news has shocked him. He can not believe it and asks me a thousand questions about René...."

Eight days later he appeared, accompanied by his secretary on Tahiti. Strangely, he rents the house directly next to mine. Why? What he has here to look at ? He shows himself in public with some young Tahitians, who participated as dancers or simple extras in the film, and I realize that the rented house, this coming and going of women is nothing but staged to humiliate me or make me jealous. I try to stay calm and continue to live as if I would not notice. Probably it is this apparent indifference that triggered his anger. He had imagined that I would come back to him, and since I did not intend and René despite his theater comes to me, Marlon suddenly changes his strategy. He begins to monitor me, parks his car right in front of my house. One evening when René and I come home from the cinema, he is back. René in this night drop me off only and moves straight on.

Shortly thereafter, there was a knock on my door. It is Marlon, who has been waiting for me in his car. "Where were you?" "In the cinema." "With this guy?" "With René, yes. I told you that I am now more or less living with him. "" You do not have the right to do. "" Marlon! "What follows is terrible. He grabs me by the hair, dragging me into his car and take me to his home. Once the door is shut and locked, he shouts: "I'll kill you! I will kill you! "And he begins to beat me. He's beside himself, his features are disfigured by his uncontrolled anger.

With kicks and punches, he pushes me to the bed, and there he binds me tight. Then he whipped me with his belt, and in that moment, I truly believed that he will kill me. I scream the name of our child, convinced that this is the only word that can stop him: "Teihotu! Teihotu! "When I see him grab a harpoon, I think only of our little boy who is celebrating his first birthday soon. Obviously those were the only words i thought of to make him stop, suddenly he lays the harpoon aside and leaves the house.

Three days later he flew back to Los Angeles, without trying to see us. My back is so bloodied that I have to lay on my stomach for two weeks.

Another roughly translated Part from Tarita Teriipia' book:

"Marlon is talkative, charming and mischievous as the first time in Los Angeles, and I am in love, We laugh. We drink and we laugh. I do not want to think about what will happen or will not happen....

We return to the hotel. At first everything is exactly as I wished it. But suddenly Marlon stands up, cools his face with water, running up and down the room and all of a sudden become terribly angry. "Stop, Marlon! What's happening? You're scaring me, come back to bed. "He however thinks of René, can not forgive me to have betrayed him . "You know that I have nothing for René ..." I do not know what else to say, it is also irrelevant, because he does not listen to me anyway. I think he is no longer listening to me at that moment .

I want us to sleep together, and it is like an evil spirit stop him. I do not think it is René, but he believes it, and therefore I am to blame for everything, for his sorrow, for his inability to make love to me, to our misfortune ... He roars, he had gone completely insane, "This pig has slept with you, Tarita. This pig this pig! "And as the night in Tahiti when he had seen me with René , he begins to beat me. He screams that he will kill me, kill me, kill me ... I do not know how I escaped him. But I succeed. I walk into my bedroom, and can not stop crying. The next morning I packed my suitcase, wake Teihotu, and we leave to the airport without saying goodbye to Marlon. We take the first plane to Papeete"

[quote] “Now show me your asshole,” he said, quite seriously.“

He probably tried that line on Maureen Stapleton as well.

Mister, you owe Homer Simpson an apology!

More from Nancy' book

“I want to fuck you in your ass, Nancy,” he whispered, completely out of the blue.

His comment scared the hell out of me, actually. I ran and jumped in the bed, pulling the blankets all around me, praying he wouldn’t decide to follow me. And he didn’t.

Before long I was fast asleep.... The following morning “Let me smell your breath,” he insisted, to my absolute horror. “What? No! Why?” I replied, refusing to comply. “Come on. It’s no big deal. I just want to know what your breath smells like in the morning,” he continued.

When I adamantly refused, he pinned my arms with one of his massive forearms and pinched my nostrils closed with a thumb and finger on his other hand, rendering me instantly immobile. Holding his head over mine, he practically put his nose inside my mouth, promising me it was only a matter of time until I’d have to take a breath, so I might as well give it up and let him smell my breath. I figured if he was weird enough to do that I wasn’t going to make myself sick about it. Besides, I considered that because I work in a dental office and floss my teeth at least once a day, not to mention polishing and scaling them on a regular basis, I should feel fairly confident my breath in the morning is probably better than most women he’s given this test to. I felt embarrassed and horrified and utterly helpless until it was over just the same.

“Your breath is good, Nancy,” he said reassuringly. But I still felt somewhat violated.

Donald Sutherland on Brando (Marlon spoke French fluently).

Ditto, r13. Enough of his tedious and predictable liaisons with fraus.

BRANDO THE BRUTE , by Esther Anderson (Marlon' girlfriend during 1960s and 70s)

"She was the beautiful daughter of a proud old Jamaican family, educated in the island's strict Victorian school system. He was the world's most famous superstar and she loved him passionately.

Hand in hand one summer's day, Esther Anderson and Marlon Brando wandered into an English country church, their heads filled with romantic notions. This outrageous incident was one of many which symbolised the couple's bizarre and stormy affair.

Indeed, the experience was so dreadful it was the point the budding actress, 20 years Brando's junior, realised their relationship was doomed.

But when they approached the altar, the young actress was horrified to see Brando suddenly drop his trousers. Then, letting out a macabre laugh, he exposed himself in front of the cross.

Yet Esther did not stop loving the man widely considered the greatest film actor ever. In the following years, she spent many hours trying to come to terms with the complexities of Brando's troubled nature.

Esther's intimacy with her boorish lover lasted 12 years. Even when she went to live and work with reggae king Bob Marley in the early Seventies, she was lured back to Brando, and kept in touch with him until he died.

During her time with Brando, she took many photographs of the physically beautiful star. And memories from those days still come tumbling out, throwing new light on the peculiar lifestyle of a man she reluctantly came to believe was clinically psychotic, who hated women and cruelly manipulated his children.."

Roughly translated interview of Esther Anderson talking about psychotic Marlon:

" His outbursts were terrible. Once he beat me up, and a few days later in a restaurant in France in early 1970, grabbed the butter on the table and tried to shove me in the nose - reveals Esther. She argues that it was this incident inspired Brando to use butter in a famous sex scene in the film "Last Tango in Paris".

A series of fierce fighting and many physical fights Esther led to a nervous breakdown. She decided to end her life and overdosed in the studio where Brando was filming. - Marlon found me lying lifeless in his room for fear of bad publicity tried to wake me up - says Esther. He added that the famous actor for years around bragging that, as she lay in a coma, on the studio floor made love to her.

In addition to the fair sex, the famous actor psychologically terrorized and their children. He had eleven of them (with a few women), but only to the oldest Christian referred to as his son. - While the other children were not allowed even to call him dad, Christian is too spoiled.

As a boy, he could do whatever he wanted. He threw food at Marlon or me kicking, screaming and hysterical all day

"Young people do not know what he was like Marlon Brando. He was a clinical psychopath who hated women and manipulate their children. Half of my life is spent with various psychiatrists, drank various drugs to change the mood, but nothing helped. He was simply psychotic to the core - says Esther.

Sex, food and bongo drums

Although the public saw him as an energetic person full of life energy, Esther claims that, unless of course sex, favorite hobbies famous Brando was overeating, here in bed and banging on bongo-drums. - He liked to brag that enjoys writers such as Kant and Nietzsche, but it was a farce - claims Anderson, adding that instead of reading Brando in his spare time watching television and spit on colleagues. - He hated everything, and especially Charlton Heston and Laurence Olivier. The only person from the acting world by the respected was his acting teacher Stella Adler"

Barbara, please! Please Barbara! This picture is about ME and my PIRATE OUTFIT!

Those secretary texts read like a fetishist wrote them. It's all so weird.

Only fetishists would have put up with that crap, R35. Everyone's descriptions sound so similar though that I have trouble believing it's not true. Sounds like Brando picked the same kind of woman over and over: the kind of woman who would put up with his psychosis.

I don't get Brando, he was short and fat.

IF the secretary was such a prude then why the hell didn't she get another job?

.........

From Marlon' close friend George Englund book "The Way It's Never Been Before"

Among women, Marlon doesn't suspend use of his arsenal of social shocks, one of them being an ability to fart at will. In a meting, he will launch one. He's aware of the horror others feel about farting in public, it's their conversations after he farts that interest him.

"There was a Japanese woman in Marlon' life, i will call her Sono, she and Marlon were in an elevator in century city, amid the subdued conversation, Marlon farted audibly. He acted startled and leaped sideways- where did that come from? Then he fixed on her a look of disbelief, she, his beautiful flower from Japan had done it. He bent to her in a stage whisper said, "Not in the elevator, darling not in the United States" mortified, her hand covering her mouth, she stared at the floor.

While passengers waited in dread for the odor of fart to measure up to it's audio quality, Marlon rapped out a second one, brutal, something out of stall in a truck stop in Enid, Oklahoma. He whirled to her, trying to make a loving smile, but unable to hide his dismay- darling, you really must stop.

This was not just humiliation for for the poor young lady, it was catastrophic beyond belief. The worst possible thing, loss of face.

Marlon told me about the incident while sono was there. She was embarrassed to hear it retold but laughed as i laughed..."

Didn't Marlon Fuck chickens when they were getting their heads chopped off?

Were there any theories of what happened to Brando to make him this way? Was he abused or neglected in childhood? Did he have a traumatic brain injury? An inherited condition?

It's always been surprising to me that several of the most beautiful male film actors (Breando, Mel Gibson, George Clooney) love playing mean pranks of women.

I've never fully understood pranking people, but it's mostly a way to humiliate them. I don't understand the link between being a handsome male actor and being a mean prankster, though.

R43 Excellent point! I wonder about that, too. Many of these pranks often fall into the category of sexual harassment, which is often about expressions of power. I wonder if these sick men do it to make themselves feel more powerful and even Godlike through belittling others they think should be submissive and lesser?

Chrissy Metz, this is your future.

R43, Add Ellen to your list.