A: Who knows. Pick any as I shuffle through my fifty-two deck of issues. Possibly the way I run away from conflict. Conflict isn’t always bad—there are many instances where it’s healthy and constructive and a stepping stone to the strengthening of a relationship—but my gut reaction no matter what is to hightail it in the other direction. That tends to give people the impression that I don’t care, which is rarely true and something I don’t like.
I’m trying to fix this. Trying to rope off my comfort zones, box myself out for the sake of growth. Isn’t that what life is all about? Growth? Striving to be a better person? That’s what my neighbor’s dog told me, anyway.
A: Once, in the parking lot of an Albany area Chipotle. I was driving by, on my way to an event or meeting of some apparent importance, because I convinced myself not to stop. I’ll check it out on the way back, I reasoned.
Well guess what? That Wienermobile ghosted me. ‘Twas nowhere in sight upon my return. Just one of many defeats I suffered in the hands of New York’s capital city. Albany, I got a war with you.
They don’t serve wieners at Chipotle, do they? Seems like a ballsy move for the Wienermobile. Just showing up in some unaffiliated restaurant’s parking lot. Maybe the driver was simply picking up his lunch. A little south o’ the border nosh. Hey, I’ll never know. I thought I had to be somewhere.
– Judy Greer
– Vincent D’Onofrio
– gonzo dino action
– presence of Chris Pratt will ignite mental “Dadbod” debate
– four movies in and still no dinos in space
– four movies in and still no ghost of Dennis Nedry
VERDICT: I’ll probably see this movie. Can’t pass up gonzo dino action.
When it rains it pours, and this latest Skywalker squall has left me soggy and aching. What can I say? Ball Droid, fetch me a mai tai.
The new Force Awakens trailer is cool (even though Han’s collar is a little too popped for my liking). The teaser for Rogue One is cool (even though it’s the five billionth spot that insists on lifting dialogue from the original trilogy). The new Battlefront vid-juh game looks like every other Star Wars blow-’em-up that came before it, except with better graphics (which is fine; I’ve always been more of a Lego Star Wars guy).
The Star Wars emojis are very cute and I forgive their creator/”maker” for not rendering some of the more obscure characters like Bossk or Yakface.
I don’t even know what to say about that medieval document they found with the drawing of Yoda on it. “Obviously it’s not Yoda,” they keep saying, but what if it is? What if Frank Oz is a highlander?
This fandom is exhausting. And you wonder why I occasionally retreat to the barren confines of a Skatetown, U.S.A. or a Grease 2.
Like Depeche Mode, I enjoy the silence.
If I could change one thing in the world, I would reengineer cell phones so the person talking could hear their own voice in the earpiece of their phone…as someone who grew up with landlines, I can tell you: Hardwired phones were engineered and designed to give you the confidence that you were being heard—which is why people would whisper into their phones and know that they were being heard because they could hear their whispering voice in the earpiece as loud as they could hear their regular, full-volume speaking voice. It was compressed and loud and audible. And it’s a little bit of a reassurance that you’re being heard. The limitations of cell-phone technology are such that your voice would be delayed if you heard the actual, real signal. It’s not coming back in real time. So they just make the receivers dead, like you only hear the other end of the line, which is why everybody shouts into their cell phones. Nobody shouts into landlines. You can be in a phone booth by a highway and you can just talk and you can tell that people can hear you. But when you’re holding this dead object that is the cell phone, it makes you scream. And this is a very low-cost engineering solution to the problem of cellular telephony. I’ve thought about it a lot.”
– John Flansburgh, from this great interview
A: Oh, “The Addams Family.” Morticia and Gomez have such a beautiful relationship, full of respect and understanding and expression. Most of the time it seems they work together to solve their dilemmas. The Munsters are more typically sitcom; Lily tolerating Herman’s lunkheaded crap, even when it blows up their living room or puts him in traction. And Grandpa Munster is always egging Herman on…it’s like “Leave It To Beaver” with neck bolts. Herman and Grandpa need a goddamn babysitter.
– I’ve never been a huge Eagles fan and this three hour doc didn’t change that, though now I’m inclined to give them respect for being another band committed to their own sound; they never kowtowed to industry pressure, they just kept doin’ that Eagles thang and let success land on them
– three hours and not one reference to the “Desperado”/”Witchy Woman” plot lines on “Seinfeld”; guess most of the Eagles weren’t too thrilled with all that
– I want to say I can’t believe there was a period where these guys had their own baseball jackets emblazoned with an “E” on the front but they also had their own plane so maybe matching jackets weren’t so crazy
– I love how proud Glenn Fry is that Cameron Crowe immediately thought of him when he was trying to figure who could play a jerkier dude than Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire
– Don Henley gives off a R’as al Ghul vibe during his talking head portions (it could just be the goatee and black turtleneck)
– at one point Glenn Fry refers to Don Felder as “the biggest asshole” in the Eagles; maybe he’s right, we don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, but I’m taking Felder’s side for now because he’s the only one in the doc who tears up while discussing all this discord (I also disagree with Fry’s assertion he and Henley deserved more cash for the reunion b/c they had solo hits)
– there are two guys named Don in this band, what are the goddamn odds?
– Timothy B. Schmit seems like a Jon Wurster character
– it hit me in the feels when they showed that note Joe Walsh’s kids wrote about how proud they are of him
– Linda Ronstadt seems cool; shame she’s too sick to sing anymore
– as suspected, they play one of those guitars with two necks on “Hotel California” (b/c hiring a fourth guitarist would have just been fucking nuts)