A year ago, in a process that stretched out over two days, I was re-gifted my stem cells.
They were all scrubbed up and shiny though and everyone involved in the process was fond of saying it was my “birthday” or a “rebirth” or “birth of an all new idiot” or something.
I wasn’t paying a lot of attention as I was coming off a very unpleasant week. They basically had to kill me (or make me feel as if I were dead) before I could rise like a phoenix from the hospital bed.
Mostly, I was laying there getting pumped full of stem cells and there was this obscenely “full” feeling, like a kielbasa stuffed in a too small casing. Kinda of like I just ate a ridiculously large amount of food and had that uncomfortable feeling, only instead of my stomach, it was all over.
But…Rebirth!
I can’t really say that I’m a whole new man bursting with boundless energy, as I am 58 and overweight, but the hair’s certainly back to what it was in my twenties, albeit more gray.
I’m enjoying what I can, at least as much as anyone can these days, during lockdown, without being too big an idiot. But never fear, I’m still the same *brand* of idiot.
Hmm. So today, I’m one year old. I guess I can eat chocolate cake….
(it probably needn’t be said lack of talent is the primary reason but read on!)
Although I know Jonathan Groff primarily from the excellent Netflix series Mindhunter, I was totally unaware he was already a Broadway legend. I’ve slowly been learning this as I drop down into YouTube wormholes, where he seems to appear with other Broadway legends I’ve never heard of before.
He hopped on stage in front of a massive crowd with some woman who was hugely popular (I can’t even remember her name, never heard of her), and they complimented each other on being legendary.
I am REALLY disconnected with anything and everything Broadway related.
This is not surprising, as the last proper play I attended was “Nunsense” back in some decade.
I even offended my children when I mentioned being annoyed by some screeching woman in a Geico commercial. She was obviously someone of note from how the commercial played out but when I voiced my displeasure, the kids were horrified that I’d dare say anything negative about the great and powerful Idina Menzel, star of Frozen and yet another Broadway legend. Yeah, sorry, couldn’t get through more than five minutes of Frozen, it’s overrated and we are far too easily pleased with the Kool-aid in this area. She’s screechy.
Let it go.
But anyway, my obliviousness of the big Broadway names and their legendary careers and status aside, I still admire their commitment. Take Hamilton for example.
It’s mind blowing to me how these actors can memorize those lines, the songs, the moves. In *any* typical play, there’s a ton of work to be done, its mind boggling. To not only remember your lines, but interact with a bunch of other actors, being wholly dependent on each other, as you act, sing, dance– a single organism, operating together for the entertainment of a giant crowd seated before you. All the while under the hot stage lights, in costume, sweating, moving, while negotiating props, furniture, the stage, other actors, their breath…
I admire these actors, singers, dancers, and their amazing abilities. These people have to mentally go to a different place, transform themselves, to really put themselves out there, be vulnerable, open up their soul and give of themselves to an almost dizzying degree, becoming extremely close with other actors. Talking, kissing, yelling, singing, whispering and spitting.
This is how I know I can never be an actor. At least as far as acting with other people. I’m not one to do the whole opening, giving, sharing bit. I don’t even like close talkers.
Just back off!
This is what I noticed in Hamilton. Amidst all the AMAZING on display, you can’t help but notice the occasional spittle flying through the air. Thanks HDTV!
Yes, it really IS a testament to how invested these professionals are in bringing it, making the experience come alive and they are incredible. But when Washington is yelling at Hamilton, you wonder how many showers Manuel-Miranda is taking every day on stage.
Now you might say I shouldn’t focus on that, and you’re right, but I’m not focusing on it, I’m just making a casual observation of an incredible job on their parts. I’m also pointing out one of the many reasons why I’m not in any way cut out for the stage and never have been.
I could never keep a straight face, for one thing. Watch the outtakes of any old Burt Reynolds movie with Don Deluise. The man was always breaking down laughing, non stop. No idea how he ever got through a film. That’s how I’d be. 100%.
There is a remote possibility that I might be able to remember my lines but once on stage, under the lights, in costume, with an audience staring at me? Oh, forget about it. I would implode under pressure, start riffing,–badly– falling into bouts of uncontrollable laughter and then just start sweating with an intensity that would put Albert Brooks in “Broadcast News” to shame (look it up, kids).
I’d find it incredibly hard to focus, too. Seriously, if they had the depth of child diagnosis 50 years ago that they do today, I actually believe I’d be labeled as having A.D.D. or god knows what–I’m not kidding.
But the first time someone’s saliva glands started spraying in my direction, I’d probably duck or something and ….. illusion ruined.
So, watching Groff just absolutely kill it with the “You’ll be back” song is fascinating, brilliant, compelling, and at one point, you kind of wonder if he didn’t *just* eat an apple a minute before.
Again, I have nothing against those with leaking mouths.
Some of my best friends are droolers.
That particular shower is just not for me, and I’d just be too self conscious if I did it and that’s why I’ll never play King George. (Along with that other laundry list of reasons.)
My friend Pam loves animals. Bugs. All forms of life*. Even does Bird Rescue. All very noble and compassionate. She would willingly make various forms of sacrifices at any and all times, just for the sake of showing common courtesy to the smallest, tiniest life form (again, *).
So, whenever there’s an animal in some form of distress, I can’t help but think WWPD? What Would Pam Do?
Now, some or all of you may know of my War with the Squirrels.
They hate me and barely tolerate me and the feeling is mutual. We have a history. They try and steal from the bird feeder, they gnaw and destroy my front steps, I chase them away and lay down spices and various powders to repulse them.
Yes, one time, one of the little f***ers peed on me– but that’s neither here nor there now.
But at times, there are exceptions.
Like today, when Matthew, while out for a walk, came upon what seemed to be an injured squirrel or at least one with something wrong with it. It was small, probably an adolescent, and it was not right. Couldn’t seem to move much. Matt assumed it was injured and called me at home.
I hate the injured animal call because very seldom does it have a happy ending. And very likely, you’re on your own. I told Matt to do a search for animal control or some place that might be able to help, while I grabbed a bottle of water and drove over. At one point, it was squealing but had stopped by the time I got there.
From what I could see, it didn’t even seem injured, just wrong, and moving oddly. I’d wondered if it simply fell a great distance. Perhaps from an extremely high branch, but usually squirrels can take a lot of leaps and crazy landings, so I don’t know.
I poured a little water into the cap of the bottle and put it in front of him but he didn’t drink it. He was panting heavily though. The humane society branch of Hinsdale just put Matt on hold and the village of Western Springs was somehow closed at noon on a Friday. I knocked on the door of the person whose driveway it was, and asked if they had the police non emergency number and if they wouldn’t mind calling it while we thought of alternatives. She dialed it and put it on speaker, then we were immediately put on hold.
The thought of course crossed my mind What Would Pam Do? And there’s the dilemma.
Here’s where I basically suck as a person. Well, that might be extreme but moral and ethical practices start to get very flexible here, as far as animal responsibility.
If I *called* Pam, I would be honor bound to blindly follow any and all instructions she might give me. That gave me pause.
There’s probably a sizable gap between the lengths I would go to and the lengths Pam would go to for critters. I once swore a blood oath against a raccoon and then there’s the whole aforementioned squirrel-war thing.
While Pam has been known to slightly restructure an outside dinner party to accommodate a spider spinning its web. She’s been known to let webs take prominent hold in various places of her home for the comfort of the spider. Her husband Mike had one spider jump in his eye when he came too close to the kitchen sink. She goes to extreme lengths to drive downtown in the wee hours of the morning to rescue birds who’ve been hurt flying into buildings. She’s transported various sick animals hundreds of miles in the dead of night. She is probably the most compassionate person I know when it comes to animals.
The point here is that *knowing* that Pam will do anything and everything on earth for a furry friend, yes, frankly, I was very hesitant to call her. I actually feared the call might go something like this–
I’d call her and give her the scoop and as much detail as I could.
She’d tell me to perform some type of CPR on the animal.
Put its head in your mouth and blow gently.
Check it’s limbs for awkward orientation, fashion a splint out of twig, I don’t know.
Take it home, put it under a heat lamp, give it a sponge bath, and raise it as your own.
Name him “Nik-nik” or some such moniker.
All this went through my mind in a split second– because it’s not the first time it’s happened–dealing with an injured animal.
I won’t go into it but like every other time in similar circumstances, before we could even get anyone on the phone to actually tell them about this, the squirrel stopped breathing and it was over. I thanked the other person for the phone, then Matt and I left.
End of that sad adventure.
But as always, the thought occurred, WWPD?
So, as I was saying….
*She will move heaven and earth for any animal, bug or plant on earth but if she sees a centipede, she will exterminate it with extreme prejudice.
Just because they creep her out. All the legs, etc. Go figure.
(Thankfully that loophole gives me a lot to work with on the high moral ground if our different wildlife views ever come into conflict.)
I mean, *I* don’t kill centipedes, I rinse them down the drain where they came from. Hey, they have a chance.
For decades, we Doctor Who fans have had to live with the knowledge that in the early 1970’s, the BBC had a practice of destroying tapes of programs to make room in the warehouse, as space was limited. So, of the approximately 253 eps of Doctor Who made in the 1960’s, 152 were missing. That means a big chunk of first Doctor William Hartnell’s run and an even bigger selection of second Doctor Patrick Troughton’s run is missing. A good analogy: imagine here in America, if NBC had decided in 1972 to destroy the master tapes of almost half of the original series of Star Trek? It’s like that. And not just DW, but all types of shows were being destroyed.
Luckily, at least one fan who was around the BBC at the time, Ian Levine, took notice and started bringing it to people’s attention. He also managed to save the second broadcast story, “The Daleks” from the incinerator. The practice of wiping had then stopped and ever since, there’s been a quest to find copies of old missing episodes. See, although the BBC was destroying tapes, they had also sold the episodes to other countries, so at one point, there were copies in 90 other countries. Many of these countries still had copies in archives and vaults, or just laying around in piles collecting dust. It was a matter of locating them. Over the years, various episodes have been recovered here and there. In the 1990’s, we were lucky enough to have the four episode Troughton story “Tomb of the Cybermen” recovered from one of these countries. That was a minor miracle.
Part of the problem is that once countries or a certain facility realize the importance of the missing tapes, they sometimes go from disinterested observer, oblivious to what Doctor Who even is… to greedy protector of the Holy Grail, and are suddenly loathe to release them. Phillip Morris is a dedicated investigator/video archeologist who’s been to over 50 countries, searching for any and all missing episodes. The biggest find back around 2012, was when he unearthed 9 missing eps from some place in Africa. This was HUGE. the biggest haul since the start of the quest. Four eps were from The Web of Fear, a beloved Troughton story, bringing the total of existing eps to five out of the six. Five of the eps were from Troughton’s “Enemy of the World”, actually *completing* that six parter.
This was like Christmas all over again. We’d all been familiar with Web of Fear, a story of the monstrous Yeti invading the London Underground, a heralded classic. But Enemy was very underrated. I don’t think kids were all that jazzed about it at the time it originally went out, as it was more of a James Bond meets Doctor Who type international intrigue story. It had been missing for 45 years, so the adults who’d seen it live were mostly dead and the kids who’d seen it, didn’t appreciate it. So this was kind of like an all new, brand new Doctor Who story, a real treat, showing up after 45 years, just in time for the 50th anniversary of the show. Due to the efforts of people like Levine and Morris, the missing count went from 152, down to 97.
But what OF those other remaining 97 eps? Well, in a recent interview, Phil Morris he said point blank that he knows of at *least* six more episodes that are currently in the hands of private collectors. He won’t say who or which episodes but they’re out there. As to the mind set of these private collectors… why are they hoarding these things–Ego? Power? Stature? Maybe, but Morris says that the most common response he gets from them is they fear how the fans will treat them. And that is a problem. Fans can be wonderful but also… not. Let’s go with “mercurial”. The fans get angry when these private collectors don’t share, thus depriving millions of fans. I get it. But if a collector hands over their prize, some might think the fans will gather with torches and string them up? Or that the BBC will give them the stink eye? Realistically, I can’t speak for all fans but mostly, I’d think they’d all be so happy to get the stories back, I think they’d happily forget whoever did the hoarding.
Side note: One bright spot is that a number of missing episodes have been animated. In some cases, animation filled the gaps of missing eps, like Hartnell’s Reign of Terror (2 eps of the 5), Tenth Planet (1 ep of the 4), and Troughton’s “The Moonbase” (2 eps of the 4), “The Ice Warriors” (2 eps of the 6) and “The Invasion” (2 eps of the 8).
And in certain cases, entire stories, either totally or partially missing have also gotten the animated treatment like Troughton’s first story, the six part “Power of the Daleks”, “The Faceless Ones” (6 eps), “The Macra Terror” (4 eps) and “Fury from the Deep” (6 eps).
There was even a dedicated recreation of the unique Hartnell episode “Mission to the Unknown, a bit easier to recreate since neither the Doctor or his companions appeared in the one shot.
Between animation and recreation, another 30 episodes are back in video form, but it still leaves 67 left missing entirely.
So there we are. Morris actually believes all the missing eps will eventually find their way home. Well, one can hope. One must also hope that they’ll be found and returned in one’s *lifetime*. I’m not sure exactly what type of relationship or incentives, if any, are being put forth by the BBC when it comes to possible negotiations for the tapes. I’m wondering if the Beeb is really doing all it reasonably can to make returning tapes a positive experience for the private collectors. Greasing the wheels, as it were. Not that I don’t trust big companies, but I don’t really trust them to always be on top of a situation, you know? I guess we’ll see.
I just marked my 125th straight day doing Spanish on Duolingo. An unbroken streak. I’m sure my friend Lou is working on my statue at this very moment.
I seem to go through phases as I continue down this path. There are days when things go remarkably smoothly, like yesterday. I made a mistake here and there but over all, I just did well.
Then there’s today, when there’s a combination of mistakes I made and bizarre choices the program makes regarding certain words where there’s no rhyme or reason given and I end up calling it unspeakable names at high volume.
The other day, I must have been feeling run down or tired, I don’t know, but it was a day I just. Didn’t. Feel. Like. Sitting. At. That. F****** iPad. To do my daily lesson.
But I was on a 122 day streak and you hate to break the streak. Just like you want to build up a certain amount of points each week to maintain your status in The Diamond League. >sniff< Yeah, it’s as high as you can go.
But if you falter….if you end up falling down into the Demotion Zone, then on Sunday night when they change over for the week, you may end up dropping down into the Obsidian League. That’s the one below Diamond. Cooler name, Obsidian, but I worked very hard to propel myself into Diamond, and once *there*, it’s not that terribly hard to maintain it. But here’s the thing….
The other day, I was champing at the bit to get out of Spanish. I hated it and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it anymore. Sick of it. I vowed that when I hit Day 125, I’d switch to a different language.
For some reason, if you do 125 days straight, that’s a milestone, at least in the eyes of Duolingo. So I figured, what the hell, after day 125, I’ll finally switch over to Swedish, my mother tongue!
Originally, sure, I planned on doing Spanish until year’s end, thus spending eight whole months on it, then switching over to Swedish as of the new year, so I’d have eight months of *that*, since we’re supposed to have a family reunion next August.
But I just had to get the hell out of Spanish and move into the sweet, sweet language of the fjord, the sweet, sympathetic salutations of Swedska.
So, since I had made this decision on day 122, I figured, hey, let’s go get a sneak preview, or I should say revisit Swedish, since way back at the beginning, I checked out Spanish, Swedish and Italian, and all three seemed cool, but I figured at the time, I’d just focus on one. Since I had two years of Spanish in high school, it won out.
But hey, I figured, let’s do a little tiny check in, since in a couple days, I’m switching anyway. So, I went over and…
OH MY GOD, IT WAS LIKE UNINTELLIGIBLE MOUTH GARBAGE, I COULDNT UNDERSTAND A FREAKING THING, GIMME A UNIVERSAL TRANSLATOR, GIMME A UNIVERSAL TRANSLATOR, GAH GAH GAAAHHH!
Omigod it’s like horse talk– which you’d think I’d be all for because Horse Guy but no no no, it’s like way back on Mr. Ed (look it up kids) when they wanted the horse to seem like it was talking, they spread peanut butter on his gums, so he’d move his horse lips around to try and lick it off and viola, Mr. Ed looked like he was moving his mouth and talking!
Swedish is like that! Konka blonk wonk wonk eewwww burt!
At least other languages have a fair amount of words where you can see the derivation in connection to English, like difficult is “dificil”, etc.
In Swedish, while man is “man”, boy is something like “poyjkjikaannng-burt”. Why would you saddle people with that word for boy? It sounds like one of the less imaginative man sized puppets on a Sid and Marty Kroft show, or the kind of creature Big Bird would *really* hallucinate!
I barely got out of the lesson.
So back to Spanish I went. And happily, to boot!
The next time I get fed up with Spanish, I’ll mosey on over to Italian again. A beautiful language. Although I remember liking Swedish too before I revisited it…
Or the next time I need a change, I’ll just sample a bunch of different languages perhaps. See where I go. Yeah. A trip around the world via language.
Some right wing nut job does a deep dive into old tweets of James Gunn and creates juuuust enough of a mountain out of a molehill that results in Gunn getting fired from Disney.
Warner bros. is quick enough to finally make a smart decision in their DC Cinematic universe and snapped him up to write and direct new version of The Suicide Squad. Technically, it should have “2” after it but I actually think they’re just going without.
Maybe they’re just considering this a proper do-over. If so, I guess I can understand why– the first Suicide Squad film was a rambling piece of crap with no story to speak of and, aside from nice, colorful, intros for the team members, was totally forgettable.
This time around, I expect a higher level of entertainment just because of the Gunn factor. The man who brought us The Guardians of the Galaxy is the right guy to also bring us The Suicide Squad.
And what a Squad it is!
Never has there been this many obscure and low ranking, bizarre villains gathered together for a movie.
Now, I could talk about each of these villains and their long, storied histories, but frankly, I don’t think most of them *have* long, storied histories. Some of them are forgotten, some, a joke, but most are just not well known.
And that’s kind of the beauty of it. Aside from Harley Quinn, none of these guys have even been involved in any *huge* stories.
Until now. And frankly, James Gunn has officially warned us: “Don’t get attached.” Because yeah, members of Task Force X *do* tend to die.
The four returning characters from the previous film are–
Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn
Jai Courtney as Captain Boomerang
Joel Kinnaman as Rick Flagg
Viola Davis as Amanda Waller
Of course we know the Joker’s former sidekick and doormat from Batman the animated series and the more adult version as seen in more recent comics, and the first SS film as well as the Birds of Prey movie. One of the Flash’s rogues gallery, Boomer’s back as well, along with Flagg to ride herd on the task force while Waller keeps her fingers on the triggers of all the bombs planted at the bases of their skulls if any of them try to skeedaddle.
But then we have all the new members…
John Cena as Peacemaker
Pete Davidson as Black Guard
Michael Rooker as Savant
Sean Gunn as Weasel
Idris Elba as Bloodsport
Peter Capaldi as The Thinker
David Dastmalchian as Polka Dot Man
Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher 2
Flula Borg as Javelin
Nathan Fillion as T.D.K. (aka The Detachable Kid)
Mayling Ng as Mongal
Alice Braga as Sulsoria
Peacemaker is an interesting addition, a former Charlton hero bought by DC in the 1980’s, this was the character Alan Moore transmogrified into The Comedian in the Watchmen.
Never heard of Blackguard, which makes me wonder, especially with Davidson in the part, if he won’t be the first to die.
Michael Rooker and Sean Gunn are of course GOTG alumni but I really have almost no knowledge of Savant and Weasel. One has guns, the other, fur.
Idris Elba is a big name attached to a guy who may have showed up twice since 1985– I’m not sure, but Bloodsport *did* shoot Superman once.
James Gunn is a big Doctor Who fan, bless him. He cast Karen Gillan (Amy Pond) as Nebula in Guardians and now Peter Capaldi (the 12th Doctor) as the Thinker, who was a golden age villain back in the day.
Polka dot man. Need we say more? Aside from the fact that this actor is part of Luis’ crew in the Ant-man film series?
Ratcatcher 2, possibly connected to the original Batman villain.
Javelin…..?
T.D.K. (The detachable kid). At this point, I can’t tell if they’re joking or not but he’s in it!
Mongal, I think, is maybe Mongul’s kid? Wife? I don’t know?
Sulsoria…. got me hangin’– another gun totin’ baddie.
Two other notes: King Shark, the eight foot tall half man, half shark will also be on the team, and I’m guessing he’ll be quite the highlight. Comedian Steve Agee will voice the big CGI character.
And Taiki Watiti is going to be portraying some character as well.
Not sure who. His last part of course was playing Korg in Ragnarok and Endgame.
I’m very excited. Of course technically, the film’s not due to come out for another year but fingers crossed we get an early surprise. Filming wrapped end of ’19 and
Gunn’s been editing it together since February of this year, so I’d like to think we’ll see it sooner, but yeah, yeah, COVID, etc.
Again– fingers crossed!
And then of course, the other good news, Disney realized it made a huge mistake and re-hired Gunn. So Gunn’s doing Guardians 3.
My wife and daughter love to sit in a pool in the summer.
When the kids were little, we had a membership to the local pool for one or two years, but it was like $450 a year for membership, or some crazy number, just for three months of access. And schedules being what they were, we weren’t able to go nearly enough to warrant the cost.
So my wife, over the next decade, bought a couple blow up pools of various shapes, sizes, slides and configurations. She was always looking for a bargain and didn’t spend much. The water bill was usually the biggest casualty having to fill the things.
Each of these worked fine at first but in short order, either air would leak out, there’d be some damage, the kids wouldn’t want to get in if there was a bug (!), or some combination there of.
In recent years, my wife and daughter had the most recent pool that served for a portion of two or three summers — a 4 x 8 x 2′ kiddie pool, big enough for four— but entropy and animal interference finally signaled its inevitable death.
Plus, my wife was really getting sick of pool maintenance –keeping the cover secured, scooping stuff out, filling the pool, etc., as she was doing all the work.
Once this latest one bit the dust, she was done.
But my daughter absolutely needed to recline in cooling water outside on a hot day, preferably with a cocktail. Something like a personal spa. A singular container of the proper dimensions to comfortably relax and luxuriate in.
But how?
Well, my wife did a little searching online and turns out, it’s simpler than we thought.
For about $25 per container at Home Depot, these lovely storage containers– I mean hillbilly hot tubs– I *mean*, Personal Spas, are just the right depth, width and height, to sit in and settle into. The walls are just the right height to rest your arms on, or reach over the side for that cocktail. Why, inside, you’ve even got comfy rounded wheel wells to place your feet on!
When not in use between soaks, simply attach the sturdy lids and snap them into place.
Squirrels beware! The animals can’t chew their way in there and the water….is contained.
No leaks here! Sturdy, thick plastic.
And when not in use as Personal Spas, they can act as side tables with the lids on, or simply stack ’em and roll them away on the convenient recessed wheels on the one end.
See, this is the kind of ingenuity you expect from humanity, considering we put men on the moon over 50 years ago.
So this is being posted on Tuesday morning, the 25th, and having now received all the various hot sauces, we are planning to do a Facebook live video of this very special, remote, non-sanctioned, amateur version of Hot-Ones this coming Saturday the 29th at around noon.
The thought was that I’d also load the video up on YouTube. Matt will be editing it down later, so the FB live will be a type of behind the scenes.
I do have a four year old bottle of generic Pepto in the hall cabinet but whether it’s a good idea to chug that right before filming may be questionable.
As for what we’ll be sampling for the event, here’s the names, order and how hot each of the usual suspects are going to be:
Sauce order & Scoville Heat Units
Cholula: 1,000
Sriracha: 2,200
Tabasco: 2,500
Gator Sauce: 10,000
Los Calientes: 36,000
Los Calientes Rojo: 49,000
Ass in The Tub: 50,000
Da Bomb: 135,600
Mad Dog 357: 357,000
The Last Dab: 2,000,000
So, barring incident, that’s this coming Saturday, LIVE…
thingis.home.blog 