Merry Christmas!

(I believe I have nothing more to say.)

So what's the problem?

To tell me that there wasn't a UPC on a box, the cashier said, "This don't got no numbers on it."

I was so tempted to ask what the problem was since by saying that, she was telling me that it did.

I didn't. I went and looked for another box, and laughed.

Just because everyone should listen to this at least once.

The Life And Adventures of Santa Clause has to be one of my favorite Christmas specials.

Too bad they don't show it very often.

Do they?

When people sing "It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas," do most of them still know what Hopalong boots are anymore?

I bought two angels today.

and

They remind me of Trigun :).

(That's partly the reason I bought them. That, and I was able to acquire them at a pretty good discount.)

(I just hope they don't turn out to be the weeping kind.)

Whenever you two get together

You threaten to take over the whole story,

And you're nothing but trouble,

But you sure are fun to write.

Maybe.

Well, it's a couple of weeks until Christmas.

Maybe I should start shopping.

Maybe.

I'm just having a little trouble getting into the spirit this year.

I guess I'm just going to have to force it a little.

I'm just wondering is all.

Are there any stories out there where the werewolves are the aristocrats and the vampires are the savages?

It just seems kind of unfair that it's always the other way around.

(I have no idea where this question came from.)

Which means the results are not official.

I suppose you could say that I played the home version of NaNoWriMo in that I never officially signed up.

I just wanted to know if I could get those 50,000 words out before the end of November.

That I was editing and revising just made it more of a challenge.

Really, I just wanted to get an idea of how many words I'd been writing lately.

It turns out, I can write that many words.

Go me.

Maybe next year I'll even play for real.

That dang book.

I thought I'd seen the last of it, but it decided to show up again.

Have you considered Mt. Doom?

At least, that's what I thought when the question of how to destroy the Horcrux was raised.

(And don't get me started on what I will forever call the Spider-Man 3 moment.)

Drago!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today I noticed that the lady from the Target ad was training for Black Friday to the music used in one of the training montages in Rocky IV. Realizing that, I wondered why she wasn't running around in a mostly dark gym, punching at a bag as she ran by, being hooked up to some weird technologically advanced machines, trying to lift a cart full of all of her friends, or running up the side of a mountain. It also made me want to watch Rocky IV again and forget that I have to work that day.

It's because paying for a CD for one song seemed pretty dumb.

I'm getting more than a little tired of the people who I am going to call The Beatles Elitists.

You probably know one too.

They're the people who already have everything that the Beatles ever put out.

In multiple copies.

They're the people who think they know everything and can't believe that you don't have the Such-And-Such Album.

They're the people who look at you like you have the plague when you say that you think The Beatles are okay.

Those people are getting on my nerves.

You know what people?

Some of us only wanted to buy one song because we already had all of the others that we wanted.

Some of us don't feel the need to own the entire catalog.

Some of us don't think that a certain band is the be all, end all, greatest thing ever created because maybe that band hasn't even been created yet.

Some of us are just happy that we can now finally buy that one song that never seemed to make it onto any of the compilations.

For you see, dear people, I thought that paying the full price for a CD mostly comprised of songs I already owned for the one song I didn't seemed a little too steep of a price to pay.

There. I've said it. Feel free to attack. I really don't care.

All I'm saying is that I'm happy.

(And I don't force you to listen to what I listen to, or look down my nose at you if you don't, so you shouldn't either. It's only common courtesy.)

III is finished.

We have moved on to IV.

Muwahahahahahaha!

The Gentleman's Guide to Villainy from Aidan McAteer on Vimeo.

I'm really very sorry.

If there's a darling to be killed, I know which one it will be.

I'm going to let it live for now though.

I just might want to keep it.

But if I do end up killing it, it's going to take quite a few pages away.

Still, I know what I'd do if I had to do it.

I just don't want to do it right now.

Besides, I'm so close to finishing that section anyway, it would be a shame to kill it now.

Well that changes things.

At first I thought I'd be way over the 216 pages I wanted for the file.

Then I realized that if I was going to be writing the scene from that particular character's point of view, he wouldn't see a lot of the stuff that had originally been there.

He'd see parts of it, but he wouldn't see it all.

That's why the file ends on 217 instead of lord only knows what page.

It doesn't change the fact that there's still about a 70 or so page difference between the two drafts, but it helps.

Sort of.

It's just a little miscalculation.

I don't think this scene is going to end on 216 after all.

Oh well, this file will just have to be a little longer.

(Hopefully not too much.)

I think you've got bigger problems.

Only vaguely paying attention to the medical ad on television, I heard the announcer going through the side effects and caught this: "patients taking aspirin or the elderly..."

Wait a minute.

I don't think you're supposed to ingest that.

In fact, I'm pretty sure it's against the law, and even if it's not, it's still frowned upon.

And so they entered the valley,

which, in retrospect, was probably a really bad idea.

(You have no idea.)

I'm glad the Internet hadn't really gotten started back then.

I'm glad that back in junior high the Internet was still that thing that was sort of there but not really.

I'm glad that it was something you might notice in passing in the library, but mostly you were there for the books.

I'm glad that there were no social networking sites that you felt you had to join.

I'm glad that back then you could leave school at school.

I'm glad that back then you could leave the people at school at school and not have to deal with them until the next day.

I'm glad because I'm pretty sure I would have had first hand experience with cyber-bullying.

I'm glad because I'm pretty sure that I would have felt even worse about myself than I was made to feel for those two+ years.

I'm glad that I got out of there just in time.

I'm glad that people seemed to grow up when we finally reached high school.

I'm glad that I only had to deal with a few of the lingering effects during the first little bit of freshman year.

I'm glad that during high school the Internet was still finding its feet in academia.

I'm glad that I didn't have to deal with what some of these kids are dealing with today.

I don't know what would have happened if I had had to.

I don't think I want to think about it.

I know what might have happened, but I just don't want to think about it.

I already have to live with what did.

That's because you're a person...sort of.

"I was no dwelling."

Of course you weren't.

(I love typos :).)

Don't ask me why.

It was just a lot easier writing the quiet scene to the heroic battle music than it was trying to write it to the quiet, contemplative music.

The one thing you need to remember:

Compared to the others, he's really only just a kid.

A flash of drums.

A crash of light.

:D

Maybe I missed something at the beginning.

On Saturday I managed to catch the end of Frankenstein, and when I say the end, I mean that I missed the creation of the monster, little Maria, and anything leading up to the big chase at the end. Yup, I basically turned it on right as the torch wielding mob was chasing the monster through the night to the windmill where it met its eventual end. So maybe I missed something, but the ending didn't really seem to go with what I had seen, the movie suddenly taking a rather light-hearted turn, which caused me begin expecting to hear the ending music from a Three Stooges short after everyone laughed. I don't know. It just makes me want to see the entire movie now, just to see if the ending makes any more sense, though I'm not sure it will.

After that movie ended, the next in the classic monster movie genre came on and I have to say that my viewing of Dracula didn't fare much better as I was only able to get the Count to England and kill a girl selling flowers before I had to leave for work. Oh well. At least I'd seen that one all the way through, so I knew what was going to happen, though it had been a while and I would have liked to have stayed to watch the entire thing, but someone had to get yelled at by that old woman.

Someone call a tailor!

Accepting the fact that vampires have no reflections, how come in many instances, when they show the obligatory mirror scene, we aren't treated to something akin to the invisible man, where we only see the clothes hovering in the air, filled by an unseen being? Why, instead, are we shown the inevitable blank mirror reflecting only the empty room and/or living person about to be bitten? Do vampires wear special clothes, or are their clothes made from vampires (which is really kind of a morbid thought, but we are dealing with vampires here)? What's the deal?

(It's probably just due to the limitations of special effects, but still, it's been kind of bothering me for some reason.)

Movie Moments XXV: No really, where is it?

I'll admit, it's been a while since I've done this, but it hasn't been for lack of trying. Several moments have tried to step up only to slink away when proved to be inadequate. Anyhoo, today's movie moment comes to you courtesy of the Coen brothers. What movie is it, you ask? Fargo? No, my friends, not Fargo, though that one certainly would warrant its own moment (or moments), and perhaps someday it will. Nope. Today I would like to draw your attention to the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou?, one of those movies where, if it's on, and even if it's somewhere in the middle, I'll probably end up watching it unless there was something else I wanted to see.

Now, there are more than a few parts of the movie that I like. There are more than a few characters that I like, one being George "Baby Face" Nelson, but this isn't about him or any of those other characters or scenes. No my friends, the moment I'm talking about happens right near the end, after our three heroes (or, at least I'm going to call them heroes) have been pardoned and Everett has been reunited with his wife Penny (or, ex-wife after that nasty train accident that didn't really happen, but well, you know...) and all that's left is for those two crazy kids to get married...and for Everett to get the ring. This new task sends Everett, Delmar, and Pete to the little home Everett and Penny shared with their daughters and right into the clutches of Sheriff Cooley, who's been chasing the three men ever since they escaped from the farm.

It is here, at the little house, just before the three are briefly recaptured (and before the flood), that Everett is telling his companions all about the happy life he shared there with his wife and daughters and how they would soon be able to see the "mighty oak tree out front and a happy little tire swing..." that one of my favorite lines of the movie appears as the trio arrives to find three nooses now hanging from the mighty oak, at which point Delmar asks, "Where's the happy little tire swing?" What can I say? It makes me smile every time I see it, and I hope that it always will. In fact, I'm probably going to have to repeat the line several times today for no apparent reason. (I just hope I'm not in public when I do, but if I am, oh well.)

Look, there it is!

I thought the butterflies were going to be tough.

But those verbenas are going to be the death of me.

Hail Mary, mother of Pilgrims.

Scouring the shelves for some decent Pilgrims (don't ask), I was struck by something: most, if not all, look as though all you need to do is change their clothes a little (or perhaps cobble together some robes out of felt) and you'd have the beginnings of a nativity set.

(On a related note, I did finally find two that didn't make me think this, but they have so far been the only ones apart from the two foot tall Pilgrims that were just a wee bit too tall for my needs.)

That's why you should never stage the final battle over a bottomless pit.

I just noticed that Emperor Palpatine and Skeletor both died in very similar ways.

Huh.

Really makes you think.

(Or not.)

They kind of even look alike.

(Or not.)

(just in case you were wondering, Emperor Palpatine was the first to take the dive.

He did it in 1983. Skeletor took his in 1987.)

Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, if they make a new Masters of the Universe movie, could they please put in more characters from the actual show. I myself would like to see Trap Jaw and Tri-Clops, not some made up characters because they couldn't use the real ones. (I'm looking at you Gwildor, Saurod, Blade, and Karg)

Swath

I never thought I'd use it in a sentence.

I was wrong.

But it fits, so it stays.

For now.

Bob painted some dark water today.

But he neglected to include any pirates.

This quote brought to you by the MFAA

It's amazing how the world can change during the life span of a fruitcake.

-George Stout

Chop! Chop! Chop!

The editing isn't being done with a scalpel.

It's being done with a cleaver.

Trust me, it's for the best.

Jump in!

Those fancy security locks on the doors are pointless when you park and leave the top down.

Season premiers try so very hard.

Perhaps too hard?

Beautifully tragic.

We're going to go on a little journey, you and I. You're going to sit there, and I'm going to tell you a story of lost love that I just realized was sitting in my iTunes, specifically the Beautiful Music collection. Keep in mind, the order of the songs is as they appear in the collection. I haven't done anything to move them around. This is just the way they came together, which I think is pretty cool.

And so, without any further ado, I present my accidental music story:

"(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden," by Lynn Anderson

We begin with a relationship that might be in a little trouble. both sides seem to be expecting different things and the rude awakenings are starting to take their toll. At this point we can probably be pretty sure that this can only end in tears, but exactly how it will all play out is anyone's guess. Still, who knows, maybe those crazy kids will work things out (though I have to warn you, that song is not on this list).

"The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia," by Vicki Lawrence

Uh oh. Looks like things have gone from bad to worse and we've seemingly abandoned our couple for the view of someone on the outside. It would appear that the problems of the previous song have only multiplied and the end of the relationship is only a matter of time. So very sad that two lives have to be ruined because of it, but maybe it's for the best. After all, if the third party hadn't interfered, who knows how long this doomed romance would have gone on.

"Moody River," by Pat Boone

With the romance gone and the couple separated, here we start to see the the aftermath of the end of the relationship from one half of the pair. It came so unexpectedly and now she's just gone without a trace and only a simple explanation. He's going going through some things right now. We'd best leave him alone (and maybe give him a life preserver).

"The End Of The World," by Skeeter Davis

And here we see the other half of the story. Sure, the relationship had its problems, but it's still sad to see that it's come to this. Now, all alone, and unsure of what to do, it's time for some good old-fashioned wallowing in self-pity. Cheer up, hon. It's going to get better with time.

"Gonna Get Along Without You Now," by Skeeter Davis.

And so it has. Seeing all of the problems. Seeing that it was doomed from the start, it's time to take stock and realize that ending it was for the best, that it's time to move on, and that the world isn't quite so dark. In fact, both parties now realize that she doesn't need him and he doesn't need her. Folks, I think these two crazy kids are going to be all right.

Their futures brighter, though by no means less uncertain, it's time to bid our characters adieu and move on to other songs and other stories. I hope you enjoyed this little story, or that it at least made you think about how the order in which things, like songs, fall can really affect how you see them. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go listen to "Swingin' Safari."

Maybe they're haunted.

As I was taking pictures of pictures so that I could have a better idea of what frame would go with what picture, I couldn't help but notice that two of the pictures, each featuring the same girl, came out blurry no matter how I tried to take them. Spooky.

It's too early to be sick of this election, but I am.

I'm good.

You're evil.

I'm evil.

You're good.

We're...whatever.

I'm right.

You're wrong.

I'm wrong.

You're right.

We're...whatever.

I care.

You don't.

I don't.

You do.

We...whatever.

I understand.

You don't.

I don't understand.

You do.

We...whatever.

Why do you look so confused?

That it does.

For some reason, I get a lot of enjoyment from the promo they've been airing on BBC America that goes as follows, "We lost our empire. We suck at tennis. Our food is lousy. But our television sure kicks ass."

It makes me smile just typing it.

I can't help rooting for the little guy.

Are we there yet?

Traveling 1,264 miles in three days with nothing but the radio, one starts to notice things. Specifically, that there are certain names that radio stations really like to use. These include The River, The Edge, The Mix, Hot (insert station number here), and then of course, there's Magic (or Majik or Majic or however you want to spell it). Now, that isn't to say that there aren't others like The Eagle or The Bear or Froggy that you probably aren't as likely to hear repeated, but still, when you're doing a lot of driving and you keep hearing the same names over and over again, you can't help but wonder "Am I going anywhere at all?"

And where are Higgins, Rick, and T.C.?

I'm just wondering why they used the theme from Magnum, P.I. in a Maybelline ad clearly inspired by Charlie's Angels.

My guess is that they couldn't get the rights to the one song, or maybe Magnum's is more recognizable (It is to me, okay?), or maybe they thought that no one would notice.

Great advice, Dan.

What do you do when you're going on writing, and suddenly your cast of characters is larger than you can handle?

That's when the killer comes.

They might be family.

They might also be the neighbors.

Or friends.

Or the people who owned the cemetery.

Or just acquaintances.

The fact is, we don't know.

Anyone who would is dead.

Long dead.

Because the pictures are old.

Very old.

Late 1800s, early 1900s old.

And there are no names on them.

Except for one.

That one has two names on it.

But picture is only of one person.

At least she has the same last name.

If either name even belongs to her.

Oh well.

They're all going up on the wall anyway.

The shadowy dark wall that the sun never sees.

Because I'd rather not destroy them.

Even if they did come from the "Anonymous People" folder.

Now all I need are some frames.

Good frames worthy of the pictures they'll contain.

Because they might not be family, but I still think they're neat.

Now that it has passed, I can talk about Thursday.

Oh Thursday, you are best remembered by the series of three Jaws quotes that popped into my head over the course of that six hour period, and had I been asked how things were going, I would have said, "We need more men, and we need a bigger boat, and the customers have black eyes, like a doll's eyes."

Yeah, that was Thursday. Now let us never speak of it again.

This would be so much easier...

If I hadn't switched between three different characters over the course of one giant, half page paragraph. Oh well. Once I get things sorted out, it should go pretty well. I hope.

I'll still keep looking up.

I just found out that Jack Horkheimer died. Very sad.

The night sky won't be the same without him.

I hope that isn't a bad sign.

Finishing the conversation, I started to laugh maniacally.

(Oh well, at least no one said anything about a master plan.)

And the Typo of the Week is:

Doe snot

As in, "He doe snot agree with you."

Donald "Red" Grant, meet Sam Quint.

I still can't believe that they're the same guy. Bravo, Robert. Bravo.

The biggest movie of all time

wants a little more money.

(Oh come on, don't tell me that you weren't thinking that too.)

Now all it has to do is survive.

Hurrah for cheap end of season plants sales!

Where else can you get plants for a dollar or less?

That windowsill is going to be a lot cheerier now.

(Oh, and I forgot to wish my geranium a happy third birthday.

For that, I apologize, though I do not regret spending that fifty cents to buy it.)

Someday...

One day I will make it to the World's Longest Yard Sale. It's not because I am a frequent yard saler, but I find it intriguing and just want to go to see what I can see and buy something neat, or many somethings as the case would probably be.

There's only one thing wrong about this...

If the scene continues from his point of view, he's not going to understand a single word and neither are we. Oops.

The events of last night.

Wasn’t there supposed to be a pit in that cherry?

Uh-oh.

I think I swallowed it.

Well, I haven’t choked...yet.

I wonder if it’s safe.

Of course it is.

Otherwise they’d have to sell these things with warnings.

There would have been assemblies at school.

You’d hear cases of death by cherry pit every summer.

There would be public service announcements.

The bags would come with instructions and warnings and dying stick figures.

And there would be no Cherry Blossom Festivals.

I’m sure it’s fine.

Still...

Better look it up, just in case.

But what if it is dangerous?

Do I really want to know?

What if I have to go to the hospital?

Do I have time to get there?

Where is the hospital?

Should I call someone?

Should I tell the neighbors?

Should I call my family?

Is it getting warm in here?

Am I supposed to be feeling light headed?

Have I been poisoned?

Do I only have minutes to live?

Am I going to need my stomach pumped?

Ok, just calm down, kid.

Gotta check to make sure I’m not dying.

Let’s see...

Articles, articles, articles.

Questions, questions, questions.

Gee, there sure are a lot about this.

Glad to know I’m not the only...what?

Cherry pit...death.

What?

Oh.

Cherry pit choking death.

I’m not choking.

I think I swallowed it.

So far so good.

Let’s see.

Ah, question: Is it safe to swallow cherry pits?

Yes...and no.

Mostly yes.

Just don’t make a habit of it.

Ok.

Crisis averted.

Problem solved.

Pulse returning to normal.

Lightheadedness disappearing.

Actually, I don’t feel too bad after all.

Now where’s that bowl?

I think there are still a few left and it would be a shame to waste them.

I think we all need one, don't you?

Because everything is better with a narrator, especially one wearing a bowler hat and carrying a cane. I also imagine him to have a British accent because, well, looking like that, could he really have any other kind? Yep, everyone needs a narrator because they could find some way to make the boring moments exciting or meaningful, and pair that with some theme music and you don't just have a life, you have a life of epic proportions. Gosh, I wish I had a narrator, and some theme music, and a rocket car, and a private island, and a spider plant, don't you? (The narrator, I mean, unless you also want some theme music, a rocket car, a private island, and a spider plant, but I fear I might have gone off on a little bit of a tangent there.)

This is what boredom looks like:

There's never a camera around when you need one.

Walking into Walgreens, I couldn't help but notice the little sign out front where they would put all of the deals and bargains that you can find inside. What was on the sign this time?

Back to school supplies

Bud 15 pack

Oh man, I really wish that I had had a camera. I mean sure, it is a college town, but still, we don't really want to acknowledge that, do we? Maybe we do. I don't know. I thought it was funny. I still do. I only wish that I had a picture of it. Oh well.

Chance of heroism 100%

The Weather Channel played the Indiana Jones theme during the Local on the 8s.

It made those storms moving across the state so much more exciting.

Train wreck

is a nice way of describing the condition of some of those sections.

(That's why several of them had to be cut.)

There aren't really six files.

The fifth is a fake.

The scariest thing wasn't that they were vampires.

It was how easily they were able to take over the town.

About that...

Straightening things up at work yesterday, I couldn't help but notice that the store was in possession of a pair of Detroit Yankees flip-flops. Yes, folks, you read that correctly. Detroit Yankees. I had no idea the team had been sold and relocated, which leaves me to wonder just what happened to the Tigers as I'm fairly sure that Detroit can't support two major league teams. In fact, the only thing I can be sure of is that the local news has been of little help concerning this matter.

(And that some part of me is actually considering buying those flip-flops.)

Have fun on the Fourth of July.

I'll be at work.

And I thought it was going to be a bad night.

It was, but when I got home there were lightning bugs flying around the yard.

They made me happy.

Black eyes.

Like a doll's eyes.

She almost made it.

Then I had to write that paragraph.

I just had to ask "What if...?" and her fate was sealed.

Unless I bring her back in another draft.

(But on the plus side, that story is a long way from being written. I have to get through this monster first...and then the next one.)

They don't call it that for nothing.

Is it just me, or does anyone else see how putting wind turbines in Tornado Alley would be a bad idea?

More Wisdom from the racks:

The difference between Juniors clothes and Misses clothes is that Juniors have no butts.

-random woman talking to her daughter.

Thank you, ma'am. It's all so clear now.

I'm going to write one too!

In case you've never seen this, I think it's funny.

(Be warned. There's a little bit of language, so impressionable young minds, mind your ears.)

And now, without further or due, I present to you, the Axis of Awesome singing "The Four Chord Song":

How much is lost?

The proliferation of reusable grocery bags has me thinking, and it also has me asking this question: since a lot of them are just hanging in the store, ready for you to pick them up if you decide to buy one, how many have been stolen since they became so widespread? How many people have picked up a bag, taken it somewhere in the store, torn off the tag, used it to shop, and then never paid for it. Now, you can say, well, they aren't that expensive, but come on, a dollar's a dollar, and if someone stole a dollar from me, well, I wouldn't be too happy. As far as I know, the bags don't have anti-theft devices embedded in them, so who's to say that a lot of them aren't going missing? I mean, I want to think the best of people. Really, I do, but well, I've seen a lot of people do a lot of things that they shouldn't have, and while they might be remorseful when they're caught, I find it harder to think that they'd be remorseful if they hadn't been. What's next? Are they going to have the store cops in charge of preventing shoplifters focus on the bags, or even hire people for the express purpose of monitoring the bags? That's going to get expensive really fast, don't you think? I don't know. Maybe I'm putting too much thought into it. Maybe I'm being pessimistic. Maybe I've been working in retail for too long. Anyway, it's just a thought I had, and considering that the issue never seems to get mentioned, I was wondering if anyone had ever thought about it at all.

I hold to these truths:

I am not a robot.

I am not a wizard.

I am not a robot wizard.

(But sometimes I wish I was.)

It should be pretty obvious, actually.

If you try to get through the day using a skeleton crew, you get skeleton crew results.

I only know because I actually owned her.

The original did not wear pink heels.

They were ballet slippers.

What they had to do with working out, I have no idea, but they make more sense than those heels.

(Oh, and the unitard wasn't shiny, but I'm willing to let that slide :))

Only 216 pages to go...maybe.

Yeah. Maybe. We'll see what happens when I reach the end. If not, well, there are only another 216 after that.

These are not fighting words.

I think it's funny when real people argue about make-believe people.

Especially when said people were on a cartoon from the 80s.

About giant robots.

And people in jumpsuits.

And a lizard/fish guy who might or might not be wearing a dress.

And a guy with an accent who might or might not be dead.

And a cat with a mohawk.

You know, deep, philosophical stuff.

I just wish I knew where they found all of the extra time to do it.

So if any of you are reading this, you can tell me.

I won't blab.

Just ask all of the people who have trusted me with keeping their secrets.

But you can't.

Because I won't tell you who they are.

Sorry.

That's what you'd call good timing.

The song ended with a heroic flourish at the exact same moment the chapter did.

Now that's frustrating.

The worst part about having a song in your head is when you only have part of the song in your head, and it's the speaking part, and you don't know what song it is, and you can't find out what it really is, and you're not even sure if you have the words right. Oh well. It will come to me eventually. I hope. Maybe I should listen to the radio and hope I hear it...

Happy Memorial Day.

I hope you don't have to work.

I do.

I think that might be one of the reasons.

When did it become necessary to bring snacks when you go shopping?

You did that on purpose.

Tricky, tricky Next Blog link.

You must have read what I wrote.

Now I couldn't find a foreign language blog if I tried.

You know what?

I kind of miss them.

I hope they come back soon.

I think...

I would like to try stained glass again.

And play the clarinet.

And paint that picture I've drawn in my mind.

And buy another cactus.

And find a spider plant to replace the one that died years ago.

And I'd like to make some more woodblock prints.

And go see some roadside attractions.

And knit a hat.

And maybe a sweater.

And maybe something that's not a scarf.

And finally finish the scarf I started a while back so that it can join the others.

And I'd like to get my dinosaurs back.

And buy another opera.

And go to the park and play on the swings with a friend.

And maybe go down the big slide if it's still there and they haven't replaced it with something safer.

And I'd like to be able to say that I've finished the book.

And that someone could read it.

And that they could tell me what they thought of it even if I'm afraid to know.

And I'd like to go to the moon.

And Bryce Canyon to see the hoodoos.

And the zoo.

And most of all I'd like to actually do any of the things I just listed.

That high school Spanish just isn't cutting it, I'm afraid.

Every time I press the Next Blog link at the top of the page, it seems like I either get sent to a Spanish page or a page in some other language. Now, at least with the Spanish ones I can try to figure out what they're saying, but when it comes to the others, I'm just lost. Still, that didn't stop me from bookmarking one I believe is from Norway because the guy's a photographer and I like to look at the pictures, so I guess maybe not knowing isn't so bad after all.

There was really no need to broadcast it around the world.

So she fell.

Big deal.

I trip on air at least once a day and I'm sure the security cameras at work have captured it happening.

I don't care.

It's what I do, and if I worked there, it would probably still happen.

It'd probably happen somewhere really important, too, with lots of cameras.

The really important thing we all should have all taken away from this was that gravity was still working.

Someone needed to test it, and the responsibility fell on her shoulders and she fell on the ground.

Myself, I'm glad to know that someone is testing for it besides me.

After all, I can't do all of the testing myself.

:)

(I still don't think it's news, though.)

It's because I love the books that I don't want to see them hurt.

So it would seem that The Dark Tower has been handed off to yet another team of Hollywood people. Yes, my friends, The Tower has been passed from J.J. Abrams, Damon Lindelof, and Carlton Cuse to Ron Howard, Brian Grazer, and Akiva Goldsman. I've got nothing against any of them, and they seem to be saying a lot of things right now about movies and television series and movies connected by television series, but seeing as how this is at least the second group who have taken on this story, and the fact that the story has yet to appear on the screen, I'm not holding my breath that it's going to happen and I'm going to be able to sit back and eat popcorn as I watch Roland, Eddie, Jake, Oy, and Susannah make their way towards The Dark Tower.

In fact, I don't really know how to feel about all of this. I've always looked at the prospect of bringing The Dark Tower series to the screen with mixed emotions. After all, the darn thing took up just about six months of my life because I decided to read all of the books in order with no other books in between so that I could really get a good feel for it and remember everything. It was a great six months, though, and I'm glad to have read the books, and I think it was a series that I could actually say, "Yes, that is how it should have ended," instead of "Huh. So that's it? That's what you're going with? That's how you're going to end this? Ooookay. It's your series, I suppose." Plus, it really looks like quite an achievement when they're taking up almost a quarter of the bookshelf, but getting back to the movie, or television show, or whatever...

Now, I've always heard about the idea for a movie or series of movies, and in my honest opinion, I never thought it would work, and that opinion hasn't changed. The way I see it, you could probably do a movie for the first and maybe second book, but after that, the different parts of the story become very interconnected as things end in one book and then begin again, stopping only because you run out of pages to read, and then resume in the next book. Then there are all of the plot strings. Getting all of those to work in a movie, or series of movies, well, that would be pretty darn difficult and I'm going to come right out and say this: I think it would make the creation of The Lord of the Rings look like filming a cakewalk.

I think, and have always thought, that if this story ever made it to the screen, that it should be in the form of an HBO series, where you could take care of all of those strings, get everything in order and then meander down the path of the beam without worrying about how long it's going to take because if people are going to watch it, and if you do it well, they're in it for the long haul. I also think that HBO could handle the special effects that will be necessary. Also, by doing it as a series, while you're working on the beginning stuff, and taking into account that the show is popular and people are watching and you're actually going to be making a series that covers all seven books, you could concurrently film all of those backstory things so that everyone is still the right age and you have those parts when you need them instead of filming them as you need them, which is what would happen in a movie and would mean that either the characters would keep age jumping on you, or you'd have to keep recasting the roles, which I don't think is a very good idea and could end up being pretty darn confusing for the casual viewer.

Still, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself because no one ever seems to mention that if it did come to the screen, there are all of those other film rights, book rights, and property rights that have to get sorted out. I won't get into those, but you'd probably need more than a few lawyers to get them all squared away, if they can be squared away, and if you've read the books, you know what I'm talking about. Of course, that's taking into account that it would ever be done. That's taking into account that HBO would even want to do it and since it looks like they're gearing up to begin producing a show based on a different as yet unfinished fantasy series, I don't know that they'd exactly want to pick up the tale of the gunslinger right now.

I didn't buy anything, but it still made my day.

The hooks in the dressing room at the Marshall's I went to had labels with things like "Definitely" and "Maybe next time" printed on them. (I don't believe that there was one for the things you didn't want to buy, but hey, you don't want people not buying things, right?) I thought they were neat because they followed the logic of how people shop and what happens when you try on a lot of items all at once. You end up with different piles and the hooks are a neat way to keep everything in order. I don't know, maybe it's just me. Maybe I've spent too much time cleaning out fitting rooms, but I still think they're cool.

(Yes, I think that kind of thing is neat. I know...)

If it wasn't true, they wouldn't be selling it.

For every song that you think is the absolute worst ever made, there's someone who loves it with all of their heart.

The same can be said for some of the songs you like, too.

I know that it certainly applies to some of mine :).

How offensive!

It seems like they're always saying that math is the universal language, and how if we meet up with alien life, that that might be how we're able to communicate with them, but what if they're wrong?

What if math is how aliens curse?

My blog. My rules.

I have made a decision: for the time being, Mark and Dick will have to fend for themselves. I just keep getting farther and farther behind and the number of strips I have to catch up on is just getting too long, and frankly, they're both in pretty good places to hang it up for a little while. Now, I'm not saying that I'll never do pick them up again. I might. I might not. The fact is, right now it just isn't as fun as it used to be because it's turned into something of a job in addition to all of the other stuff I've been doing. Something had to change, and that something is them. Sure, I'll keep reading them. I might even post something about them if a particular strip strikes me to be especially funny, but I won't be following the stories here any more. If you want to follow them, read them yourself. Now, this isn't to say that I'm hanging up the blog, because I'm not. I'm going to keep it going. The randomness is going to continue. I've got ideas for other things I've been thinking about trying, so I'm going to give some of those a shot with the extra time I'll have. (Ha, ha, ha. Extra time. That's a good one.) Anyway, them's the breaks, kids. Just thought you'd want to know.

Obey the rules of the road.

For those who are about to take a driver's test, and are a little anxious about filling out all of those bubbles, here are a few rules of the road to remember:

1. Don't hit the blind man and his dog.

2. The red octagon with STOP printed in the center of it means stop.

3. Buckle up, it's the law (or at least it is here.)

4. Construction zones mean that you need to slow down, not go faster.

5. Any alcohol is too much alcohol.

6. Don't read this list while texting and driving. (Really, it's not that important and there will be time enough to read it when you're sitting there waiting for your number to be called.)

Finally, it is important to remember that this is not how a stop light should be interpreted:

Green means go.

Yellow means go faster.

Red means go really, really fast, close your eyes, and hope for the best.

I hope this has been both enlightening and informative.

Good day.

I had no idea it was so scandalous.

Looking up the "Theme From 'A Summer Place'" on iTunes, I couldn't help but notice the little "clean" indicator next to certain versions of it. I had no idea that this particular instrumental song contained objectionable material in need of censorship. (Did a violinist drop his instrument and swear, the curse somehow going unnoticed until now?) It makes me wonder what the non-clean version sounds like.

(Do you think the folks at Relax-O-Vision know about this?)

Spread a little sunshine.

Greetings friends,

Looking out the window, it's clear to see that the lawns have come out of their winter hibernations. Flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, and everywhere you look nature is bustling with activity. It is at this time of rebirth and regeneration that we of the Dandelion Appreciation Society would like to remind you of the unsung heroes of the lawn, who year after year require no replanting, and who year after year work to make your lawn a more colorful place. We speak, of course, of the noble dandelion. Yes friends, we understand that there are those out there who would like to see these little yellow flowers wiped off the face of their lawns, but we would like to take a moment to think about what the world would be like without dandelions. For one thing, it would be far less colorful, and in many ways, less magical, for without dandelions, how would your thoughts and dreams be carried on the wind? How would you be able to tell if you were in love? How would you know what time it was? Without the humble dandelion, many of these questions would go unanswered. Then there are the children. After all, dandelions were the flowers you could pick without risking punishment, and who among us did not gather a bouquet of them for a teacher, a mother, or a caregiver? Who among us did not at least try to make a chain of dandelions for decoration or fashion? Friends, flower chains should not be reserved only for those with daisies. We believe they should be available to all and that the flowers they're made of are a vital part of growing up and life in general. Dandelions have, and always will be, magical. Without them, it would be a much drabber world, and one we're not sure we'd want to be a part of. So as you go about your business, feel free to stop and smell the roses, but as you do, don't forget to take a moment to enjoy the dandelions too.

Respectfully yours,

The Dandelion Appreciation Society.

It's only a weed if you say it is.

Three out of five isn't bad.

In movies, television shows, and what have you, whenever they show someone tapping their fingers out of boredom, they always seem to use four.

I have just discovered that I tend to use three.

I guess my pinkie and thumb don't get bored as easily as the other fingers do.

Maybe the pinkie is too busy waiting for tea, and the thumb is just waiting for the chance to let everyone know that everything is A-OK.

Now I'm starting to wonder how many other people don't use four fingers, how many do, and if anyone else has ever noticed this before.

Honestly,

I just watched the Madonna episode and thought that it was just okay. A few songs really worked to move the story along or enhance it, but the rest seemed either out of place or searching for a place to land but never really finding one. It definitely didn't live up to the hype and I think that it could have been so much better and that the songs could have been woven into the story in better ways than "Hey, we're doing a Madonna episode. Isn't she great? Don't you just love her? Look! Here's a song!" If they make another one, which it sounds like they might, I hope they do a better job. There's definitely potential there, but I don't think this episode quite achieved it.

So far...

Yesterday I woke up with "Midnight Train To Georgia" by Gladys Knight and the Pips in my head.

Today it was "Why'd You Come In Here Lookin' Like That" by Dolly Parton.

I can only wonder what will be in my head when I wake up tomorrow.

Get your mind back on the case, Buzz.

Mark makes it back to the safe side of the lake and meets back up with Buzz (who has decided that he's going to go with this new white-haired look). It is then that he learns that Senator Wallace isn't the only one who's buying meat from the Parkers, though he seems to buy the most and even happens to own the camp. (I hope it isn't an election year. Something like that might really hurt your chances. Or maybe not. People are weird sometimes.) I guess it's a good thing then, that Mark made friends with those beavers. All he has to do is give the word and they'll knock out the dam and flood the Parker camp (and if the Parkers happen to vanish because maybe a dangerous animal or two got a little panicky and feared for their lives, well, no one is going to say anything, right?). Hey Mark, you know who should know about this? Senator Hatcher and your buddy, Tim.
Returning back to the city in their canoe (and apparently deciding to take another shot at Devil's Pass), Mark and Buzz chat about this, that, and the other, but mostly not about the poor poached animals. Oh my, looks like Buzz is more than a little smitten with Jan, Ben's daughter, and since he doesn't want to upset his future girlfriend, he's also beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, there's a way that everyone can live in peace and harmony in the Paradise Lake area. Mark, tired of hearing Buzz moon over Jan, and getting pretty darn antsy to leave this area and get back to the tranquility of Lost Forest, agrees that maybe there is a way (just so long as they don't run into those rocks).
Back in the city, Mark and Buzz meet back up with Tim (at least, I think it's Tim), who seems to have aged in the time it took to go explore the Parker camp. (Gee Mark, maybe you should leave. Everyone seems to be aging a lot faster than normal. Kind of reminds me of that Star Trek episode.) They tell him everything they've found out, and have even enlisted the help of a friendly white rabbit, who gives a little more information about the Parkers and Senator Wallace. Still, Tim isn't about to just go pointing fingers without proof, so I hope you remembered to get that film developed, Mark.

Let's review the minutes.

Ah, local government. I sure wouldn't have wanted to miss this. I know that Mark wouldn't have either. That's why Tim dragged both him and Buzz to the council meeting. (After all, if you're going to be making accusations, you should at least bring the guy who saw everything, shouldn't you?) As Tim hammers out the details (details that we are already well aware of, thank you very much), The Jack Elrod Ball protects a duck flying over the Paradise Lake area from hunters and laughing dogs. (Of course, if those hunters are anything like me, they'll have to basically hit that duck from point blank range and then try to shoot the darn dog when it laughs because the game said that you still missed.)
Tim continues to drone on and on and on about things that we already know. Outside, a pigeon perches on a branch, contemplating how it could get into a magic act even though it isn't a dove. Oh wait! Just a minute folks. Things might have just gotten a little more interesting. Senator Wallace has just entered the building and he doesn't appear to be any too happy about what he's just heard. (I half expect him to call Tim out with something to the tune of "Them's fightin' words!" or maybe something about how he's an old man and most people hate him, but he doesn't like them either so it all evens out and that he doesn't really care so long as they keep eating at his restaurant.)
Senator Wallace, thinking that he can just push Tim around, starts to get in the younger man's face, demanding to know what's so bad about owning a fishing camp. Clark Kent (or maybe an old silent film actor) watches nearby, ready to spring into action should Tim require his help in fending off the older man. Tim, however, wasn't just appointed to his position yesterday and throws some of the information he learned from Mark and Buzz back at the Senator, who suddenly thinks that it's getting rather hot in the chamber.
Seeing the Senator begin to stammer and deny that he knew anything about this whole poaching thing (election in November, election in November), Mark decides that now is the time to bring more evidence against him. Sure, Senator, you didn't know anything about this poaching operation. I'm sure that meat just fell from the sky. Well sir, I can tell you that it didn't. I can also tell you that good old wholesome family fun is more important than wild game meat in a fancy schmancy restaurant. Besides, you had to know that there was something up. After all, it was your plane. (Oops. That's why you should deal with shady people of questionable character for every step of the acquisition process. I would have thought that you'd have known that by now.)

And how exactly would you do that?

The Senator's underhanded dealings now out in the open, the council returns to the business of the Paradise Lake area. Seeing as how Mark is an out-of-towner and will probably never come back to Paradise Lake, of course he's the best guy to ask what to do. Gentlemen, you just gave him the opening he needed to talk about the wilderness and how important it is. I hope everyone brought snacks. This could take a while. As Mark begins to talk about how nature and canoeing and good penmanship are just a few of the keys to good citizenship, a bird continues to work on its calisthenics program. (Do I sense an Avian-related adventure in the future? I hope so. I really miss those guys.)

Well, it looks like Mark might have just solved the problem, for the time being at least. I am, however, a little confused. A canoe trail, huh? How would one go about marking such a trail? I mean, a lake is not a forest. You can't just clear a trail and stick some posts along it. Oh well. I am sort of disappointed that there wasn't more punching, but hey, an ending is an ending (and I really hope that this is an ending. I don't know if I really want to sit through another council meeting.). At least they're going to get Ben involved seeing as how he would be directly affected by any restrictions of planes into and out of the Paradise Lake Area. (Tim, you might as well let Buzz work on this too. He'll probably want to see Jan again and if you don't get him to help now, he'll just start showing up on his own.)

Before we can really say goodbye to this adventure, who should appear but Senator Hatcher. Apparently, word of this canoe trail has spread and everyone is pretty excited about it (even though no one knows just how this thing is going to work). Even Buzz makes one last appearance as Mark says his goodbyes, letting the intrepid woodsman know that he'll pass on his best wishes to the Harris' when he sees them this weekend. (See? You just can't keep that ranger away.) Looks like everything is pretty much wrapped up now. I mean, sure, the Parkers are still at large and probably poaching things, and the noise problem on Paradise Lake hasn't really been solved, but at least there's been progress and revelations and a possible budding romance, so that's something, right? Ah well, on to the next adventure. (I wonder what it will be about.)

The play's the thing.

Trying to see if there's any way out of this little murder mysterious party that he's been inexplicably invited to, Tracy actually calls the police station to see if there have been any real crimes committed that need his attention. (He's also heard rumblings about some sort of case involving a mysterious man named Waldo, but no one seems to be willing to discuss it with him.) Unfortunately, he finds out that the chief has also received an invitation to the party and in fact, everyone at the station has received an invitation. Looks like he won't be getting out of it this time, and to make matters worse, it appears that our intrepid detective isn't just invited to attend the party, he's been invited to be one of the players, and this party may not actually be a party. (Yeah, this should turn out well. I hope all of the other actors remember to wear bulletproof vests.)
Deciding that now is as good a time as any to continue perfecting his I'm A Little Teapot pose, Tracy contemplates the invitation and the new revelation that not only is he going to attend, but he's also expected to perform. The plot continues to thicken as we learn that this case is not just any old made up case, but an old mystery of none other than Dick Tracy's. (Seriously, everyone get a bulletproof vest now, and maybe a helmet. Got to protect to old noggin, after all.) It seems that that little bit of information was just a little too much and Dick goes into a rant, flailing his arms about as he tries to explain that he has a job. A job involving crime fighting and murders and robots and mad scientists and all sorts of crazy things. He doesn't want to re-enact that job. He has the memories. (It would be like asking a plumber to be a plumber in a play. It isn't the only thing he does. He has a lot of other interests, too.) I think I can actually hear the wheels turning in Tracy's head as he tries to figure out a way to get out of this. Alas, I don't think he'll be able to dodge this bullet.
Later that night as the Tracy's lie tucked safely in their warm bed, Dick continues to mull over this play thing, though from the look on his face, he might actually be starting to come around to the idea. Sure, he's never acted before. Sure, being in this play thing would interfere with police business. Sure...wait a minute. Interfere with police business? Hmm. Maybe he could get that time off the chief has been promising him after all. (Maybe he could even be paid for it.) As Tracy continues to think, a bird turns into a rock and crashes through his window. (Cale? Is that you? Come on out. I know you're there. I can hear you giggling.)

Safety first.

The rock, apparently triggering the motion sensing lamp the Tracy's had installed (well, that or The Clapper), awakens the sleeping Tess (who gives us an idea of what she'd look like with shorter hair) and seems to have scared the bejeezus out of the Dick, who is now clutching his pillow in fright (or maybe he's trying to pretend to be a asleep so that Tess won't make him get up and check on that noise). Quickly snapping out of it and back into detective mode, Tracy leaps into action, spotting the rock on the floor as he makes his way to the window and immediately begins firing into the darkness. (Don't worry folks, I'm sure he's following some sort of police procedure...maybe.)
Apparently hitting no one, Tracy puts in a call to the station where the chief is working the graveyard shift. He's even taken the time to get dressed before he does it (because I guess the chief can hear pajamas over the phone and he wants to be taken seriously). Hearing about the wayward rock, the chief immediately tells Tracy that he and Tess should get out of there, even though they never did find the person who threw the rock so they can't be sure that someone didn't throw it for the express purpose of luring a certain gumshoe outside where he can be done away with from the shadows. Agreeing to the chief's plan, Tracy lets her know that Tess will be staying with Junior (who is yet another child of the Tracy's, just in case you were wondering), but that he won't be going anywhere because now there's a case to solve and lines to learn and whatnot.
Before he tells Tess that she won't be sleeping in her own bed tonight, he tells her that yes, he has indeed decided to take part in the play. After all, it was his case so if someone is going to do it, it might as well be someone who can do it right. (Oh yeah, and the charity is good because the orphans, or animals, or bugs, or environment, or whatever need help.) Later (or possibly in the Tracy's very own basement crime lab), the note is examined and surprise, surprise, there aren't any prints on it, which means that we're dealing with a guy wearing gloves, a robot, or a ghost. (My money's on the ghost. We've already done the guy and robot angles.) On a semi-related note, the chief is less than impressed that Tracy seems to be taking things so lightly (and she's probably just a little peeved that she didn't get asked to do the play too).
As Tracy continues to put off telling Tess that she's going to be staying at Junior's, the two talk about the play. Apparently, it will be held at the science museum. (Gee, this sort of reminds me of an old Batman episode I just saw. Do you think the Penguin is involved in this too?) Tess couldn't be happier that Dick is going to be getting out of the house and doing something cultural. In fact, she seems to be so happy that she's trying to raise the roof, which as you all know is quite a feat when you have been afflicted with T-Rex Arms. (Yes folks, I do have the sad duty to inform you that her recovery was only temporary and that she has indeed suffered a relapse. Perhaps this is the charity Dick was talking about.) Meanwhile, across town at the museum, which apparently doubles as a theater, a shadowy director has her assistant, Lime Light, hand out scripts. (Let the puns begin.)

Places, people.

Finally, several hours and costume changes later, Tess and Tracy show up at Junior's apartment. (I guess dark hair is not hereditary in the Tracy family.) Tess safely left with their loving son, Tracy returns home to see if any more rocks have come flying through the window. He also takes another look at the note and decides that it might not be such a bad thing after all. It is here that I respectfully disagree. Yes, Dick, it might be a note wishing you nothing but good luck. However, it was attached to a rock and said rock was thrown through your window. Taking that into account, I have to read that note with a more sinister tone, where it means that there's no assassination technique too good for you, so watch your back or your neck or your head or your heart or your kneecaps or whatever. That's how I read it, but sometimes I misinterpret these things.
Meanwhile, back at the science museum, we find out that the author of the play is the mysterious Johnny Nothing and that the director is named Anja (which, we can only hope, is just the first part of a deliciously punny name). Oh Johnny Nothing, I can't wait to see what you bring to the table. (I only hope that you don't live up to your name.) But answer me this, my friend, why the science museum? (And are you related to the Question?)