The tournament is finally here! Your wife has the day shift today, the kids are at Spring Break day camp, and you didn't tell anyone you took the day off! What are your plans for the day?
A) Light home improvement projects around the house in-between games
B) Doing the household laundry you're allowed to touch
C)
Watching the Conference USA men's basketball tournament, you can see that
A) There are good sections still available
B) There are good decks still available
C) They should just play this tournament at a park
You haven't watched a college basketball game all season, but that won't stop you come March! Well, maybe it will - you meant to watch the Alabama / Auburn game on Saturday, but you didn't get to it. Why not?
A) "Brunch" at the Biscuit Bucket went longer than expected
B) You were napping (again)
C) The kids had the TV on a Plex folder called "The Best of ALF Season 4"
As we wind this down, I do want to share a bit of levity as we finally get a break: The Big Scoop and her friends are (so they say) making a "movie." I asked of its plot, and was told "it's about an evil cult that murders people." Well, well. Considering her age, she's way past where I was at that time...
For those of you finding this randomly:
#10 - Hallucinations (1986)
Back of the VHS box: None found or (possibly) made
Oh that VHS audio feed...even on just black, you can hear it loud and clear. You could even say this video, being from the 80s, has computer graphics...inasmuch that's a computer screen showing the titles.
I don't know if this was made in the Midwest, but it has quite a few touchstones: snow on the lens, trouble with the snowplow, mouth-breathing, foam snow boots, Afghan blankets on the chairs and couches, and fake vomit. It also has the classic VHS lens flair from lamps, silhouette portraits, rotary phones, uneven audio, and ketchup-as-blood.
It's good, I suppose, knowing there are like-minded people to your interests, but I also felt like I was watching outtakes of one of our homemade videos from the 90s. If you made your own at any point, there's nothing here you haven't done yourself. If not, up to you if you want to see what people did with their time back then...
#9 - The Long Island Cannibal Massacre (1980)
Back of the VHS box: None found or (possibly) made
The is the lone title so far that has sadly eluded me in a way that is fiscally responsible. Do I want to spend $20 on a DVD? Perhaps, after I've seen it. I'll update this page once this is viewed.
#8 - Burial Ground (1981)
Back of the VHS box: The Earth Shall Tremble, graves shall open. They shall come among the living as messengers of death. And there shall be the nights of terror...an excursion into the twilight world of the undead. A chilling, brutal slice of horror. There's no escape from The Nights of Terror (the alternate title - ed.) And only the living will scream.
Mama Mia! Horror Italiano! Who says you can't use a Take Five rip-off during opening credits?
"Didn't you like my little show?"
"You look just like a little whore. But I like that."
"You're turning into a great little model."
"Well, then I deserve a raise in pay."
"You're getting a raise from me, all right, but it has nothing to do with money!"
The old "innards grab bag"
Apparently, only in Italy do they
1) have mothers who, when walked in on by their son, grab their clothing but don't put it on
2) use a museum's storage room as a gun range
3) have zombies with living skin on their hands and, on occasion, their head
4) question zombies as you would someone coming up to you randomly on the street
5) attempt to kill zombies with a pitchfork by hitting them over the head, or using it to "joust"
...and repeat. Stretched out to last as long as it does, even containing a few "wait, that shot should have been 5 seconds later" moments, there was one thing that impressed me. I know I/we discuss gore effects often in these reviews, but they did an amazing shot in the first 1/3rd of the movie of a zombie coming out of the ground that was sensational. I don't recommend this one, but don't want to give away that bit, either.
#7 - Things (1989)
After turning on to Palisades Drive from Sunset, once you pass one of the swankier mini-malls you'll ever see, your vision almost turned into a jungle. The twisting & turning of the road was only matched by the greenery that surrounded you. The first time I took this drive with the woman formally known as Smiley she said, "I call this drive Jurassic Park", and it was obvious to see why. (It's a phrase she continues to use for years and years, forgetting that I'd already heard this roughly 25-30 times) Suddenly in your view were townhomes on your right, and, it seemed, even more as you drove north.
At one of the events at their home, I asked her uncle how he ended up there. In the early 80's, he had a home in Cheviot Hills and, maybe it was in a divorce or something, I didn't pry, but he met a contractor who was putting 'em up in this discovered pocket of Pacific Palisades land. "He said 'I have 1 left - you want to take a look?'" He smiled. He liked the weather and amenities. I asked him if it ever bothered him - the one way in & out vibe of the neighborhood. He smiled again and shrugged his shoulders.
Years later, one time I was helping him get out a table in the storage room. I'd never been in there, but there was a lot of "stuff" in there. When I commented as such, he chuckled and said, "One day, it'll all be yours." Whatever that is in there: memories, items needed, items not needed, or burdens.
He passed away last Fall - her aunt said, "He told me 'I'm going to die in this house.'" If he only knew.
Another way to go there was to get off at Sunset and wind your way there - it was usually faster than going along the PCH, but that didn't make it any easier. It certainly didn't seem fast, or faster, or particularly easy to drive. After passing Riviera, the streets and topography change almost each minute. A high school with unbelievable views. Streets sneak up to Sunset, and then sneak away, hidden to privacy. There was a "downtown" strip along Sunset with all needed stores, including a fire station.
Since his passing, in these new unknown days, her aunt met a family new to her complex that has a daughter near the age of The Big Scoop. One such meeting worked well, so we agreed to start the new year with a meet-up and dinner. We decided to meet at a park off Sunset and walk a new trail - the plan for this trail was, in the new year, to build a walking bridge over to Will Rogers State Beach.
As we wandered back to the park, we passed many cliffside homes facing south with views of the ocean, the Santa Monica Pier, and the rest of the coast. We "claimed" many of them for our own. It was a fun night for all with unplanned hilarity. We said we'd try to do it again soon, maybe before the Super Bowl.
Luckily, the kids were in school. Luckily, the parents were at work. Luckily, the aunt had errands to run in Santa Monica. On a day like I just wrote of above, one maybe 2 weeks ago now, everyone was home. Luckily, not that day.
After school that day, our attempts to get in touch with everyone mildly successful, another fire begins in Altadena, this one spreading east and west. West is what we're worried about. The following day, a fire starts in the Hollywood hills. I begin to get a suitcase ready and while the female members of this household squawk, all needed docs are handy. If this continues sloping north, we'll likely get the notice to leave.
So, if you're supposed to evacuate, or at least get ready: To where? Which direction? How far? How long? This isn't a hurricane, arriving on one side, going in one direction. We also don't see these coming days in advance. This isn't a tornado, with a siren saying "YOU - BASEMENT". A co-worker of Smiley who lives with her family in north Pasadena just grabbed what they could and took off to Arizona. It can't catch them.
The fire in Hollywood is thankfully put out less than 24 hours later. Had it been first, it might've been worse. School is cancelled the rest of the week, and I attempt to stay calm in front of the Scoop. Things remain "steady" inasmuch as there are no new major fires and those already going are slowly increasing containment. All of the family has been in touch looking for info. The co-workers (all in other parts of the country) lend support. Some out of state friends have as well, too. Then again, maybe not: from Bloomington, a financial planner asks me how the new year is treating me and if I'm interested in turning a 401k into a Roth IRA. Another text, seemingly from Potsy, sends a link to the Santa Anita racetrack being closed. Hey, thanks for checking in!
Nights don't lead to much sleep, at least not to me. When the Eaton fire started, I think I slept 1 hour, riding the 3rd rail. Night 2, with whatever was going with the Hollywood fire, the same, then a little more. The mind starting to play tricks: do you smell that? Is that smoke? Are we OK? Is that a siren? Was that her voice? My heart begins to pound.
Saved for the study of time are the weather forecasts from Sunday the 5th. Wind speeds are mentioned. "Possibilities" are mentioned. The weathermen and women are going through the motions. Glib might not be the right word, and they're not psychic, but it is an air of "keep an eye on this, you know" and that's it. That's the forecast, back to you (forced laughs).
The weekend was normal enough in that they showed NFL playoff games on Sunday while warning of more Santa Ana winds, labeled "typically bad" (not "a wildfire fucks a tornado") for Tuesday & Wednesday. My next-door neighbor, a native of Burbank and longtime animation director, figures now would be a good time to get dinner on the grill. In cover of darkness, my other neighbor and I begin freaking the fuck out because everywhere smells of smoke. The offender's wife texts "oh, he's making dinner." Our responses of the politest way possible to say "are you a fucking moron?" are not granted a response.
As I type this, at least near me, the crazy winds never showed up this week. Oh sure, from time to time it smells like the innards of a chimney even though the skies are pretty clear and there's no wind at all. High humidity the forecast for the weekend, thankfully, until next week, where humidity will seemingly disappear (without the wind, I guess?) and we start all over again.
One of the things we read is that these homes now lost were that family's retirement, that this real estate, on the rise except when it's not, would pay for that family's end times. Now, they still have that land...but nowhere to go, and the expenses therein. In an area growing in population and not much inventory, the problem is only worse. But bring it back - the home will pay for all of that in the future. Now maybe you live somewhere that is of some interest to others, so that your home, even if it could be a teardown, will hold such strong value it'll be the big score. Maybe it's someone's 10th choice in town, but a house all the same. Over time, the likelihood of inflation and time passing, you'll make something for those old days, right?
You need to keep that in mind as the future goes, because it's coming. It might be wildfires or an earthquake here, an Insane-o hurricane or tropical storm in the south and east, a spaceship of a tornado in the midwest.
(Oh, it SNOWED? What a problem!)
It's coming, and hopefully you can prepare. Your future, whatever payday you think you'll receive because you added a deck, is completely up in the air. That's what is making the ultimate decision. Might not be affecting you now, but it'll be the effects that you'll get, and you might or might not notice it. But it'll come, it's all you can do to get through it, and if there's any comfort, you'll know you're not alone. You're not alone where you are, and you're not alone because someone, somewhere else is next up.
I arrived on-time at this swanky eatery in Beverly Hills, but then again, one would expect that. My old stomping grounds, but this was all scouted ahead of time. I'm here to make deals.
Look, I'm ready to discuss the security measures of biometric authentication in relation to my analytic needs. I'm here to stress that the output must meet my need for utter consistency in reporting. But that's cut and dry. That's simply the facts and honestly, I wouldn't even want to sit anywhere, not just here, and listen to those details. That isn't dealmaking.
My surroundings have led me to pass along the do's and dont's of this deal so that others (not necessarily you, dear reader) don't make the screw ups I witnessed others heartily do during that morning's event. That the deal had to be so early in the day wasn't what I would have chosen at all, but it just means you have to deal further.
First, as I did, arrive on time. If you don't, you're already at a disadvantage. You'll then have to begin with apologies and will likely pay for the meal. If you weren't planning on doing that, well, don't show up late. I'll be pleased with the breakfast treat you get as a result...surprised, frankly, because I wasn't expecting this. A tasty apology accepted.
Knowing your history helps with small talk, be it recent or decades ago. I don't always like the small talk, but I've found knowing the history helps draw out nutty anecdotes, and I'd much rather hear about a crazy sales trip in Virginia Beach in 2002 than I would overhear the next table over talk about...whatever they're talking about.
We've all seen the harried assistant arriving with obnoxiously large breakfast orders. Thankfully, I never had to do that, but I remember those days. But try not to act like an asshole when you're in the throes of your life choices. In the wise words of Tony Manero "everybody's dump-dumping on everybody." The entire restaurant will be pleased when you leave.
Have something unexpected to throw out in conversation. I wouldn't call this news, but during the duration of this deal, that I knew Northwestern played half its football games this season in a park off Lake Michigan, that the old brown swanky shades were Foster Grant's, the nickname of Stetson University, and the name of a long-gone cable channel were all in my favor.
This is the dance, and it is done. There's the right way, and then there's all the way. Unfortunately, the majority of America decided it wanted to return to an "I got mine, you get yours" economy. I'll have to keep making deals. A fresh peach tart on me: we aim for the future.
World Champions?! I can't believe it! World Champions! You say "you had the best record in the league - what do you mean 'I can't believe it'" - I just...(shakes head)
(Whoa - 1 blog post the day after another, what is this, the 2000s?)
OK, well let's go back to the 2000s. As you watched that decade end, and if you watched the Dodgers into the next decade, one with a team slowly getting better and then oh so close in the playoffs, and woeful managers, losing more 1-run games than you can remember, you'll just have to believe me: I NEVER and I repeat NEVER thought in my life I'd hear the phrase "the strength of the Dodgers is their bullpen." The very phrase "thank Christ it's over" replaced the baseball phrase "save" for this very reason. If you are winning by 5 runs in the 9th and win the game by 1, that should not be listed as a "save." That is "thank Christ it's over" because of the clown car in the outfield that seemingly would get dizzy for 7 innings and then show up to serve balloons to the other team.
And I said woeful managers because we'd get so close to the World Series and then just...but then that hurdle was crossed. And once we were cheated, yes, we all know that. But the following year we returned, and we were playing a better team, but we had a chance to even things and said manager gave it all away. But 2020 comes around, a weirdo baseball season, and a championship is won! It might have been won because the other manager was worse but that's not our fault, is it?
Anyone who is a Dodger fan celebrated and remembered that 2020 championship. Then there's the brainworm crowd, who labeled that "a Mickey Mouse championship" (don't know what that means, but OK) "didn't count" (like your last weigh-in, I'm sure), "fraud" (you're thinking of something else you got wrong in 2020) and on the list goes. We swatted these comments away like one would a fly, and even when we went back to a "regular" season (one with "vaccinated sections") it was a good run, no complaints. Besides, we just won it all last year.
2022 was a return to the ground with the same "curious" managing calls while San Diego (a team that's 80% mouth, 20% skill) won and wouldn't shut up about doing so. The next year followed with a sensational diaper-filling against Arizona, grim faces abound. "He doesn't know how to get the team ready for the playoffs" was the refrain. It was smiles and dances in August as you beat Colorado in a meaningless game. As seasons wear on, and the costs to watch the regular season games prohibitive, I looked from afar. Again, working on dialing it back...why go all in, especially if the diaper will be filled so quickly? We'll see, sure, but...
A-Roid said last night "can you believe some people wanted Dave Robers fired?" Yeah, I can. Do you watch Captain Hook? "If we have that many pitchers on our roster, why not use 'em all? I mean, every game, why not?" Dave thought. That's one reason, Roid Freak. Another would be just a few weeks ago we faced an elimination game and because nearly all starters were burned out or injured (Mark Prior, pitching coach, someone who should abso-fucking-lutely know about saving your arm from injury and not overdoing it and pacing yourself, I'm fucking looking at you) Dave said "well, ok, Bullpen Game." What the hell?!
The Dodgers won that game 8-0. Here's how the Bullpen Game went:
That's 8 pitchers in 9 innings, 7 hits, no runs, 8 strikeouts. That went perfectly. That's a word that is used often, maybe too much, but it was perfect. Again, you've watched a team for years and years have a shit bullpen, no one you ever really felt you could count on, and...my god man.
The series clincher, a 2-0 grinder, got the shit monkey off of Dave's (and everyone else's) back. Once that happened, well, bring it on. The bullpen is winning games, at least 1 star play is showing up each game and Tommy Edman out of nowhere is Babe Ruth. And then here it is - a World Series? Against the Yankees?!
It's clinched in the Bronx, like in '81. When we had Nando. The tale is written in history, and its future is so done.
San Fernando, we do this for you. We look skyward as you used to when you pitched. Coming together, fighting back, for you. Freddie Freeman and his Paul Bunyan Balls, he sends pitches screaming out of the yard. Otani can damn near tear his shoulder, but he's not sitting anything out. The team turns at-bats into marathons. They leg out ground balls because who knows, someone might forget to cover 1st base. They run out fly balls because someone just might drop the thing.
For myself, and to the world, I need to let something go. I need to accept something and just get it out, and that is that.
(Begins playing "Chariots of Pumpkins" from the Halloween III soundtrack)
Dave Roberts, manager, has won 2 World Series for the Dodgers. Could and should the team have won more? Probably, but shoulda, coulda, woulda. This ends the talk, at least from me. He's shut me up. He went to the mound last night and put his chips in on the bullpen, specifically Blake Treinen. It worked again. I exalted. Last night, the team, the organization, its fans all celebrated a championship. Dave, however, was the winner. My worn-out Dodger cap is tipped to him. My mouth, for you Dave, forever closed.
I can open it to finish the champagne with OJ this morning, right? Why waste it?
