I told my girlfriend that I was going to sleep about two hours ago, and probably would have achieved that end if not for the fact that I couldn't put down Mick Foley's second book,
Foley is Good, and the Real World is Faker Than Wrestling. Is it as good as
Have A Nice Day? I can't really answer that, but I do appreciate the fact that it's a bit more random in its storytelling, getting off on tangents that last about a page at a time.
So around three in the morning on Monday, I found out that Christopher Reeve had died sometime on Sunday. I then set to work on Fubar to write up a recommendation of various Christopher Reeve films in the Movies forum, which has since garnered about as much attention as a fart in a tornado. However, if something were to happen to Adam Sandler or even Rob Schneider, they would likely light candles and open a chat-room in some sort of bizarre e-vigil. In summary of those recommendations, go watch the first two
Superman films,
Somewhere in Time (which is actually just finishing up on AMC as I type this),
Deathtrap, and
Noises Off.
See, it was my grand plan to channel my comics knowledge and draw some kind of parallel between the "Death of Superman" storyline and the death of Christopher Reeve, in some sort of classically-Umgawa totally-overthought and overwrought "pretend it's an A.P. test prompt, you have fifty minutes, begin," kind of fashion. ... Actually, I think that there's a couple of ways of going about that, and it
could work, but it's a pain in the ass and I'd rather just rip CD's.
So, just in the time that I've been sitting in front of my computer, contemplating whether and how I would go back to blogging, I've managed to rip the first Nerf Herder album; Alanis Morissette's
Unplugged album;
Let Go, by Nada Surf;
The Rising, by Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band; currently ripping
Achtung Baby, with Pete Droge's
Necktie Second, the
Apollo 13 soundtrack, and Toad the Wet Sprocket's
Pale still in the queue.
So I've been working a lot lately, though by even using that combination of words, I'm apt to draw the ire of my girlfriend or my father, both of whom know what it is to work
a lot. I didn't actually mean it like that; I'm merely saying that I was working enough to preclude updating this blog, since I'd much rather spend time with my girlfriend (even though that brings with it a rather long drive in the utter silence of my truck) or in front of my friend's Xbox, playing
NFL 2K5, which is one hell of a slick presentation and makes me wonder why the
Madden fanboys keep going to Electronic Arts for their yearly football fix when
2K5 costs twenty dollars to
Madden's fifty.
I've decided to put off the whole Christopher Reeve part of the post until later; that I've stated this marks the death-knell for that particular subject, as is always the case when I say I'll get around to talking about some particular subject. In the rare event that I do get back to it, that'll be because I found that parallel that I wanted to draw between the deaths and lives of Superman and Christopher Reeve. Basically, it's got to be
damn good, since it's going to have to make up for the sorry excuse that is the current post; the title of which goes back to a 1988
Saturday Night Live sketch in which G.H.W. Bush is in a debate with Michael Dukakis, in which Dana Carvey (as Bush) elaborates on his plan to build a time-machine to prevent the Soviets from launching a first-strike on the United States. When asked for comment, Jon Lovitz (as Dukakis) merely said, "I can't believe I'm losing to this guy."
It's a big election this year; so big, in fact, that my friend Scott, who has never taken the slightest interest in politics, registered to vote just before the deadline. Now, he's been saying that he's going to vote for Mickey Mouse, and his eyesight's so bad that he might end up voting for Pat Buchanan, along with all of those Floridian senior citizens, but at least he's getting involved. Me, I want to get the biggest Kerry-Edwards sign on earth and put it up in my front yard, which is flanked by Bush-Cheney signs. I think that lighting the Kerry sign at night would be a nice addition, as would bear-traps on the ground around it (so as to prevent any vandalism, and possibly prevent the vandals from reaching the polls on election day).
In closing, I watched
Fahrenheit 9/11 over the weekend, and I came to the surprising conclusion that it's a bit
too focused. I mean, it really doesn't do much if you already think that George Bush is the Anti-Christ, and that the Saudis are not our friends, and that Halliburton
did have the right guy in the right place at the right time. All of that aside, I finished the movie and actually really
tried to like it a lot, but it's just no
Bowling for Columbine, which was sometimes absurdly fun and other times would make grown men weep like a girl with a skinned knee. While watching
Fahrenheit 9/11, there were only two thoughts that went through my head:
- How deep does this rabbit hole go?
- God, I fucking hate George Bush; I hope the Packers whip the shit out of the Redskins.
That second one's almost two thoughts, but they both concern the same thing, given that -since 1944- the election of every president has been determined by the outcome of a football game. By and large, I'd say this was coincidence, but this is
fifteen straight election cycles we're talking about, and it's a hell of a lot less vague than Nostradamus. Unfortunately, given how the Packers played tonight, it's looking like another four more wars of Bush. Er,
years, I mean ... kind of, not really.
Anyway,
now it's time for bed. In the event that it's a while until my next post, that is because I have no doubt that I've violated about ten different statutes of the Patriot Act by criticizing Mister Bush and generally exercising free-speech, and therefore the FBI will probably be taking me off to an internment facility until just after election day.
AIM: therbmcc71
