Can we be honest?

Here is a lovely quote from 1978's "Heaven Can Wait."  Thought you might like it.

"Look I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I don't love you, and you don't love me, so let's get a divorce, alright?"

That's yer man Warren Beatty talking to the lovely and unfaithful (and somewhat murderous) Dyan Cannon. 

She was at the peak of her powers then--a physically perfect specimen who, while not the youngest piece of arse on the block, was definitely one that you could see a wealthy bloke splashing his cash on because, let's face it, if you could have that riding John Thomas you would probably be willing to put up with most of her less-than-obvious flaws. 

But ol' Warren, at the moment still a rich n' handsome type himself, though not quite the strapping buck he was in his "Splendour in the Grass" days, wanted something else. He wanted Julie Christie, our dove from Dr. Zhivago. 

Now, I love Julie Christie. I always have, and I always will. When she's walking away in the snow in Zhivago I think she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. But let me be honest, as lovely as she is, she's no Dyan Cannon--not at that point. She looks pretty, she has a lovely voice, but if you're a rich bloke looking for a rumble in the hay she's just a skinny bint.

So why does ol' Warren decide to deliver that ultimatum to Dyan?  Why would he cut himself off from the top totty to be with the somewhat less than exciting yet still lovely Julie?

Granted, this is just a film and not real life so it might've been highly unlikely that a real "Farnsworth" would've thrown over his lovely and unfaithful (and murderous) spouse for the pleasingly pleasant Julie Christie. But let's assume for a moment there's something metaphorical going on here. 

I think that he just gets sick of the much more lovely yet much more unfaithful Dyan. Sick of it. Lies, deception, pretense--at some point, he just gets sick of the whole thing. 

"I don't love you, and you don't love me, so let's get a divorce."  THAT'S HONEST.

That is what the Arsenal Football Club did with Robin van Persie.

I hate, hate, hate that he went where he went. But he did it. HE did it. We didn't do it.  We didn't send him there--you might think so, but you're wrong. 

I have to be honest, I actually love this move. It's very mafia. It's very Goodfellas. It's a move that says "You're dead to me." He certainly may win some tin with the Rags, but he's dead to our family. And we took them for a load of cash that in hindsight looks hilarious. I would've swapped him for Berbatov and I am not joking about that. Yes, you know how people say things like that after the fact, but I wouldn't call it retrospective dislike. 

Nobody goes against the family. And it's not personal--it's business. 

I distinctly remember Sky interviewing Patty Vieira "back in the day" and they asked him, could he see himself playing for MUFC. "Well, NO, of course not!" he said. (Obviously he didn't rule out the petroBlues.) They asked him why, and his case (as I remember it) was simply that playing for that lot was untenable, and more than anything, playing for Ol' Red Nose was not an option. NOT AN OPTION, 

PV4 was our captain, and yes, he was almost always one foot out the door. But at the very least, he didn't disgrace the shirt like this. He was a made guy. I don't like what he's doing now but I have to believe that if we had offered him something before they did, he'd be on our side. Well, we didn't, and he isn't, so what?

I have nothing to say about Robin. He's a dick, and I hope he enjoys himself.