A Public Service Announcement

There is so much misinformation, disinformation and outright lies about the Affordable Care Act being disseminated to low information voters.

The Blog talked about this in his last post.

According to the right-wing noise machine, the evil government is spending around $700,000 (seven hundred thousand dollars) to advertise "Obamacare."

I don't know if that is true or not.

I haven't seen any ads, on the TV or otherwise. Have you?

But, Mallard Fillmore™ says it's true.

Because, if you need your right-wing world view validated, who better to turn to than a cartoon duck?

*Interesting thing about this particular strip...

Mr. Tinsdale usually sources his claims, no matter how ridiculous. Even though those sources are usually Fox "News," WSJ or Breitbart.com.

There is no such sourcing on this claim.*

True or not, it is true that the billionaire Koch brothers, through a front group called "Generation Opportunity" has spent millions producing, and buying ad time for, two commercials designed to urge young people to not seek out affordable health insurance.

The ads feature a creepy, rapey, Uncle Sam, "playing doctor," with unsuspecting coeds.

You can read up on these ads and watch both of them here.

It's a strange position to take.

Big Pharma and Big Insurance will both profit, greatly, from the implementation of the ACA.

So, why the opposition?

The only reason that I can think of for the billionaire masters of the right-wing to be spending so much money trying to convince people, especially young people, to "opt-out" (a lie, in itself) of health insurance, is so horrifying that I can't bring myself to accept it.

I expect that we will get back to this subject at another time.

Meanwhile...

I got my weekly paystub in today's mail. Included in the envelope was a letter from the payroll company that pays me on behalf of my employers.

                                                                       Click to read.


It is "Part A" from the Department of the Treasury, explaining the ACA Marketplace, and whether it is something that I need to know about it.

It explains the Marketplace aspect of the ACA in plain English.

If you are a payrolled employee, you may have already seen this. If you are not, give it a look. It may help you understand what "Obamacare" is actually about.

I am sharing it with you, now, as a public service.

You're welcome.

There is a "Part B." If your payroll company is as good as mine, that form has been filled out with your own information.

(That is why I am not posting that form, here.)

A quick glance will tell you if you do or don't qualify for the Marketplace offerings.

If you do not qualify, you are already, properly, insured. You do nothing further.

If you do qualify, all you have to do is mail the "Part B" form back to where it came from and you will be told what to do to find the policy that is best for you.

Seriously. How could anyone be opposed to that?

But, No One Knows...

Last night, The Blog's real world alter ego posted the following link on the Facebook.

It is the full text of The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, aka: Obamacare.

If any of you have any questions about what, exactly the ACA entails, all of the answers can be found there.

"BAM!"

The PC's favorite conservative commented on the post.

                                                                  Click to enlarge. But, you know that.

Bless his heart.

Even when we are, pretty much, on the same page, he can be exasperating.

Here, with a few edits and adjustments for the purposes of this blog, was my response to his comment...

Actually, it was. All proposed bills are, by law, made available to the public (and these days, that means on line,) a minimum of, I believe, three weeks before they go to a vote. (The above link is relatively recent, but the original bill has been on the congress.gov site since before it was voted on.) Many interests, like the corporate media, told you that you didn't need to know, etc. because they had a stake in convincing you that you should believe that you didn't have the option of knowing.

(Don't bother dusting off the, out of context, Nancy Pelosi quote that the right-wing loves to flog.

"But we have to pass the bill so that you can find out what is in it..."

In context, she was saying the same thing I am saying.)

And it is true that the bill is incredibly complicated and most of us don't have the time or education to fully understand it. It's a complicated issue that required a complicated approach. I have a friend who is a liberal pundit by profession. Unlike many pundits on both sides, she takes her job very seriously and does her homework. She told me that it took her three weeks and the help of a couple of lawyers to get through it and understand it. And, to be clear, this was before it was voted into law.

(Another popular shibboleth from the right-wing is that no Senators or Reps. read the bill before they voted on it. This is, technically, true. But, Congressmen have large staffs of aides. Every proposed bill is parsed into small, digestible chunks that are assigned to the aides. Their job is to read and summarize their own portions, then compile the summaries for the Congressman. So yes, everyone who voted on it knew what was in it when they voted on it.)

And you are right, it is the law. Passed by both Houses and upheld by the Supreme Court. One quibble, though. There is no jail penalty. Only a nominal fine. And even the most fervent supporters concede that the fine isn't enough to be effective and enforcement of it will be difficult.

BTW... going back to an earlier thread, do you know that there is a provision in the bill that gives tax breaks to small businesses who provide insurance to their employees under the ACA?

 One last thing... Ted Cruz, during his fake filibuster, read most of "Green Eggs and Ham"  ("...I do not like green eggs and ham!") and claimed that it was a good analogy for Obamacare. But, he left out the last couple of pages. Our main character knows that he does not like something that he has never tried.

When he finally relents and takes a taste, (this is the part that the Senator left out,) he discovers that he does like it.

He likes it so much that he will "...eat them here or there. I will eat them anywhere!"

So stand up straight. Bending over is undignified. Taste the green eggs and ham before you decide that you don't like them.

You just might like them, Sam-I-Am!

TEApublican Dungeon Masters, Responsible Gun Owners and an Epiphany

I know. I was going to take a couple of days off from posting.

But. when I get something stuck in my teeth I have to dislodge it or it will keep me awake and drive me crazy.

I'm going to discuss a couple of topics.

All, seemingly, unrelated.

But, if I do it right, by the end of this post each thread will weave with the others to form a tapestry that will all make sense.

                                                             Like my favorite novel..

                                           ...or a not one of Gary Marshal's better movies.

(Sorry, Gary. But you know it's true. You're still da' man in my book!)

Here we go...

                                  __________________________________________

Did you ever have one of those friends when you were in college or high school or prison, or wherever you spent your late teens/ early 20s? That friend that you had next to nothing in common with but was a friend anyway, because he came with the package with the rest of your friends?

You know who I'm talking about. We all had one. (Or maybe more.)

He (I'm sure that there were "she-s" as well, but I'm sticking with "he" for the sake of simplicity,) was basically a douchebag.

Obsessed with Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris and Curtis Sliwa. And to that end, fantasized endlessly about forming a "Guardian Angels" type squad to protect the campus after dark. But never had the self discipline to do it.

He fetishized weapons and uniforms, subscribed to "Guns & Ammo" and "Soldier of Fortune," and spent more time mapping out Dungeons & Dragons maps than studying for classes.

                                                How Dungeon Masters see themselves.

                   How everyone else sees Dungeon Masters, including his fellow D&D players.

He was a misogynistic prick to his steady girlfriend and the other women that he openly lusted after.

(And, you know that for a fact, because all of those women came to you to tell you about what a prick he was.)

And, maybe, you might have ended up marrying his ex.

Hypothetically.

Okay, now put this bit on the back burner on the stovetop of your mind and simmer on "Low."

We'll come back to this.

                              _____________________________________________

Unless you live in a cave without access to TV, radio, newspapers or the internet, you have seen/read/heard all sorts of stories about gun related deaths all over the country, pretty much every day.

Not the mass shootings, but the stories of shootings that fill the news cycle spaces between the Auroras, Newtowns, and Navy Yards.

Now, eliminate the stories about shootings with malicious intent.

That leaves accidental shootings.

From there, let's subtract the accidental shootings that are caused by adults.

That leaves the reports of children (and for the sake of this point, I will stretch the definition of children to anyone under the age of 21.)

Holy shit! There sure seem to be a lot of stories left.

I feel like I read these reports two or three times a week.

Unsupervised youths killing each other or themselves while playing with a loaded gun that some "responsible gun owner" left laying around.

At first, we react with outrage and anger.

But, after a while, our outrage seems to be supplanted by resignation. And our empathy takes a back seat to a sort of numb acceptance that the stories are just anecdotal semi-fictions that happened to someone else, somewhere else.

These days, we live in a culture where "Based on a True Story" means that someone paid someone else a truckload of money for the book and movie rights to their interesting life story, only to change every single, actual fact of the story, including the someone's name, in favor of a more interesting fiction.

                                               "Except for the part about JFK's necktie, 
                                                    because, Dude! That shit is gold!"

In today's culture, true stories, even when they are "hot off the press" are disposable.

We may still care. We have just stopped relating.

And... switch burners. Back to the first topic.

                                     _________________________________________

Decades later, you get a "friend" request from the Dungeon Master Douchebag.

And, even though, deep down, you know that that can not possibly end well...

You accept.

Because, why not? It could be a hoot.

Not surprisingly, your newsfeed is suddenly flooded with NRA pro-gun, veiled racist Tea Party, anti-Obama, anti-liberal, anti-government, anti-IRS, "support the troops," islamophobic, libertarian, Ayn Rand, Ron Paul, Rand Paul batshit, being "shared" by this guy.

As I said...

"A hoot."

But, all these years later, a new wrinkle has been added.

God.

And, not just any old "born again," "WWJD?" "God is an Umercan patriot God."

Nope.

The guy who once viewed chemical contraception as used by the women that he hoped to fuck as proof of God's existence, is now a full on, Pope fellating, Knights of Columbus Catholic.

Which not only satisfies his aforementioned weapon and uniform fetish...

It also rationalizes his view of women as chattel and adds a selection of pious, "God Wants You to Know" affirmations and "pro-life" (at least until you are born) memes to his Facebook newsfeed.

And... back to simmer.

                                        ________________________________________


There is a funny quirk about my current job.

One that I find personally satisfying.

If an outrageous news story or viral story on the social media pops up...

There is a good chance that, within a week or two, the broadcast waves, ink and paper or pixels on my monitor will, magically coalesce into actual, living human beings, right in front of me. And, suddenly, those disposable, anecdotal, semi-fictional characters from the 24 hour news cycle have morphed into real people with real lives, real stories and real emotions.

And that slams me back into being the empathetic, feeling person that I imagine myself to be.

Which brings me back to the stories of accidental gun deaths of children.

I have spent the last two days with parents from some of these stories.

The grieving parents of some of those kids who died at the wrong end of a gun, because of an accident.

Some angry (and rightly so,) at the "responsible" gun owning parent who left a loaded pistol where their kid could get a hold of it.

Some blaming themselves, (and rightly so,) for leaving the loaded weapon where their unsupervised child could put his hands on it.

The parents of a seven-year-old whose seven-year-old playmate was showing off the gun his dad left where he could get ahold of it.

The parents of the 19-year-old who would rather believe that their son lost a battle with personal demons and took his own life, rather than believe the eyewitnesses who say that he was just messing around with the gun. Better, I guess, to believe that their son took his own life, intentionally, rather than concede that his cause of death was "dumb-fuckery."

Just when I fear that I am losing touch with the real world, and therefore, losing my empathy, the real world drops by my place of business and gives me a swift kick in the head.

And, while I am sorry for everyone's loss and grief, I am grateful for the reality check.
                                            _____________________________________

And this, I hope, is where it all comes together.

Call it a "perfect storm."

Call it "bad timing."

Not minutes after I said good by to the last of the grief stricken parents, I took advantage of the lull and checked my Facebook news feed.

And there it was. "Shared" by my Catholic, Conservative, douchebag, friend.

A "pro-life," meme posted by a pro-gun propagandist. 

Not his fault, really. How could he know how tasteless I would find his "Share" at this one point in time?

But that happened.

And, here is my epiphany...

Fuck him.

And fuck everyone like him.

Empathy is the single most important gift that life has imbued us with.

Sympathy and charity, and even, "love,"  take a distant second and take little effort.

But, empathy takes actual, hands-on effort.

Empathy is hard work. But, mastering it is the only good reason to be.

And that is why this "friend" has been unfriended. It will probably be months before he notices.

But, how does that meme go?

And, I ain't got time for you or your hypocrisy.

'Cause I know what you did in college.

The Fecal Matter Hits the Oscillating Air Cooling Device

Blogging will be sporadic for the next few nights.

The shit is, indeed, hitting the fan.

Several fans, in fact.

It's flying around like a shit fight in the monkey house.

And, your Uncle PC is struggling to keep up.

                        _____________________________________________

We all know by now, (We all do, don't we?) that Congressional House, Tea Party newbies, led by Ted Cruz, Rand Paul and Mike Lee have passed a bill to de-fund or repeal The Affordable Care Act or shut the Gub'mint's shit down.

It is, after all, the patriotic thing to do.

We also know that every Republican with a shred of sanity and memory enough to remember the mid-'90s...

From "Grampy" McCain to Senate Minority, Obstructionist Leader, Yertle Mitch McConnell, to Karl Rove and even, Fox "News," have called "bullshit" on their bullshit.

Republicans are eating their own. And it's kinda fun to watch.

Meanwhile...

According to a poll taken by an Atlanta newspaper, far too many 'Mercans don't know anything about "Obamacare," except that the are agin' it.

The next few weeks are going to be interesting.


                                 _____________________________________________



The flying feces here at home...

Well, the usual health problems, compounded by the fact that your Uncle PC has just learned that that pain in his foot is arthritis which might be treated, but never cured.

Great news for a who that makes his living STANDING ON HIS FEET FOR HOURS AT A TIME.

Oh, and the battery and radiator on the truck both crapped out on the same day.

                                _____________________________________________

Finally...

The following rubber stamped message showed up on some random woman's dollar bill the other day...

She posted it on Facebook and it went viral among The Blog's "Christian," right-wing, islamophobic friends, (among, I am sure, many other "Christian," right-wing, islamophobes,) as proof...

Yes, PROOF!...

... That there is a war...

...no, a JIHAD!...

... by the Mooslims against the U.S. of A's official, one true religion.

See you all back here in a couple of days.

I have to catch my breath.

Hollywood Divas

As a Hollywood make-up artist, your Uncle PC makes his living touching people's faces, his face so close to theirs that, under any other circumstance, would be a preamble to a kiss.

The whole thing is kind of intimate.

And, The PC has been that up close and personal with, probably, hundreds of actresses and models.

I have a theory.

I do my best work if I can fall in love with (or, at least, nurse a crush on) whoever is in my chair for the time that they are there.

If I just can't do it, I am not giving 100%.

But, being crush prone since my childhood, I'm pretty good at it, even if it is artificial.

After years as a "celebrity" make-up artist, I have spent the last decade working, mostly, with ordinary people. Midwestern housewives and such. I think of it as my slow slide toward old age related unemployment retirement.

I still work with celebrities once or twice a week. But, mostly "civilians."

And those civilians, inevitably, ask me two questions...

"Who is your favorite to work with?"

A question that is impossible to answer. (See above about crushes.)

I have been lucky to work with some seriously wonderful people.

And...

"Have you ever worked with a celebrity who was just awful?"

I have worked with a few celebrities who were nightmares. It's a hazard of the job.

But, mostly not. And here is why...

Hollywood is a small town. We all talk to each other. And we tell each other who to avoid.

If I get a call to work on a project, the first question I ask is, "who will I be working with?"

If the answer is, say...

                                                                        Faye Dunaway

I am savvy enough to, at best, lie about my availability, or, if need be, fake my own death.

Because, Faye, If you are a Hollywood legend (and you are) who can be fired from a movie that existed, solely, as a star vehicle for an orangutan, because you were so awful to the cast and crew, you are doing it wrong. 

Why am I talking about this?

Well, yesterday, The Huffington Post ran an article entitled...

"10 Celebrities Who are Difficult to Work With."

Go check it out. I'll be here when you come back...

I'll be honest, I have worked with none of these people.

No, I tell a lie.

I have worked with Teri Hatcher.

While I am aware of her reputation, I found her to be sweet to me. But, I sensed her insecurity and cattiness toward one of her "Desperate Housewives" costars. So, I don't doubt the rumors.

I don't even know who some of the people on this list are. So, I can only take the post at it's word. Because I am, as I have pointed out, old.

I know Leah Michelle's reputation, but found it ironic that Kate Hudson, who is, herself, high on the "avoid working with" list, had a problem with her.

Which brings us back to the question...

"Who is the worst diva that I have ever worked with?"

Tonight, here, exclusively on the blog, I am going to break not one, but two of my cardinal rules...

I am going to reveal the answer to that question...

...And, I am going to speak ill of the dead.

The worst diva that I have ever worked with, not once but twice, was...

                                                                          Sheri Lewis.

I know! Shocking, right?

Not just a fixture of my youth...

But a woman who made her fame by talking to a fucking sock.

She terrorized productions, and treated her own staff of assistants...

                                                 ...the way the Malfoy's treated Dobby.

                                                       Poor Lambchop must have related.

Road Rage Meets 'Roid Rage

The good ol' U.S. of A. is full of crazy, right now.

Rich, entitled, me-monkeys, looking out for themselves and (but, just barely) their peers. Everyone else be damned.

Witness, today's insanity in The House of Representatives, where a bunch of rich Republicans voted to strip $40 billion from the SNAP program so that they and their equally rich cronies can hang on to their tax breaks.

And...

Working class and working poor, frustrated, angry and, in many cases desperate, wondering what the fuck happened to "The American Dream."

Witness...

...me. 

The whole thing is a powder keg and the only thing preventing most of us from going all Guy Fawkes on some asses is the fact that debt, hunger and desperation are still preferable to prison.

Your Uncle PC witnessed an incident, today, that sums it all up.

First, let me set the scene.

There is a strange and badly designed intersection in Los Angeles' Wilshire district that The Blog crosses everyday on his way home from work.

                                                                      You are here.

S. Highland Ave. makes a strange turn into Edgewood Place, just past Olympic Blvd.

On that semi-corner is a 7-Eleven™, with a driveway that is just a few feet south of the intersection.

The four lane Highland Ave. bottlenecks into the two lane Edgewood Place...

... at the intersection...

... where cars are trying to get out of the 7-Eleven™ parking lot.

It's a mess.

It takes an ass-load of politeness and courtesy to keep this intersection from becoming a perpetual cluster-fuck.

And, to the credit of humanity, nine out of ten times, politeness and courtesy wins.

But then, there is that tenth time.

You see, the residential neighborhoods of the Wilshire district are pretty wealthy.

Built in the 1930s and '40s by the movie stars of the time, the area is now occupied by television producers, semi-successful screenwriters and other not quite rich enough to live in Bel Aire or Malibu, but still pretty rich people.

But, not so rich that they don't, occasionally, lower themselves to stop at 7-Eleven™ for, I don't know, a Slurpee™ or some Slim Jims™, I guess.

And when those people are ready to exit that parking lot... well... they want to get out fast before, I am guessing, the shame of being seen at a 7-Eleven™ kicks in.

And that is when things get ugly.

A couple of years ago, The Blog had one of those encounters.

I was just trying to head southwest on Edgewood when a, (I'm guessing here,) 60-something woman, who was not, but could have been played by...

                                                                      Holland Taylor


... behind the wheel of a silver Mercedes, felt entitled to exit the parking lot, before I, in my Mazda Tribute, passed on the main thoroughfare.

After a stand-off that felt like it went on for 20 minutes (but probably not) I signaled to the driver behind me that I was going to have to back up a few feet so that "Not Holland Taylor" could get wherever the fuck she had to go.

As I backed up and she inched out in front of me, she raised one perfectly manicured finger at me.

(Imagine The Blog's avatar with red nail polish.)

Which brings us to today.

As I was passing the 7-Eleven™ driveway, I had to swerve to avoid a red Porsche that blasted out of the parking lot like a SpaceX™ rocket.

                                                Not the actual Porsche, but a simulation.


I was pissed, but thankful that a near crisis had been averted.

But, the red Porsche cut off the guy in the silver Toyota Echo that was behind me.

                                             Not the actual Toyota Echo, but a simulation.


The driver of the Echo laid on his horn, then, leaning out of his window, shook his fist while unleashing a barrage of invective aimed at the Porsche Guy.

A block down the road, we were all stopped at a traffic light.

And that is when shit got real.

Porsche Guy got out of his car and headed for Echo Guy.

To no-one's surprise, Porsche Guy was a buffed out, gym rat, douchebag, with his shirt completely unbuttoned to show off his pecs and six-pack abs.

                                              Not the actual douchebag, but a simulation.



(The PC is going to the wall here, and making the assumption that the red Porsche™ was compensating for his steroid shriveled balls and tiny penis. I report. You decide.)

Porsche Guy reaches into Echo Guy's window.

At this point, The Blog reaches for his iPhone™.

Porsche Guy then opens the Echo Guy's door and grabs at him.

This is where, I am ashamed to admit, I encountered an ethical dilemma.

"Do I use my phone to call 911? Or, do I use the video camera to capture the incident and upload it to YouTube™?"

At this point, the light turns green, Douchebag Porsche Guy returns to his car and makes an awkward three point U-turn and heads back in the opposite direction.

Rendering my dilemma moot.

At the next light, a couple of blocks later, Echo Guy, (who, it turns out, is a skinny bespectacled, nerdy guy,)  pulls up beside me and rolls his window down.

"Did you see that?" Echo Guy asked. "Did you fucking see that?"

"Yes, I did." I replied. "He's a rich, entitled, dickless, douche nozzle. I'm with you there. But, Dude! What the fuck were you thinking? You came this close to getting seriously hurt! Dial back the anger. Do what I do and swear at him from behind the safety of your windshield."

The light turned green and we drove our separate ways.

Echo Guy was fed up with entitled assholes. I get it.

But seriously.

It's just not worth grievous bodily injury.

I don't know if he took my advice to heart. I hope that he did.

If he didn't, I fear that I will be seeing him on the news, broken or dead, one of these days, soon.

Talk Like a Batman

Shiver me timbers!

September 19th is 45 minutes past being over and The Dread Pirate Blog has been remiss in not telling ya swabbies the reasons why this day be important.

Yer Cap'n must have imbibed in a bottle of rum on a dead man's chest and plum forgot...

September 19th be "International Talk Like a Pirate Day."

Or, if ye be Johnny Depp...

                                                      "Talk Like Keith Richards Day."

Same thing.

Yer Cap'n is presumin' that me hearties already knew that and talked accordingly.

If not, ye may be walkin' the plank and goin' to Davy Jones' locker.

Wait. What?

No, ye scurvy dogs.

                                                                  Not that Davy Jones.

                                                                    This Davy Jones.

But, batten down the the hatches, secure the yardarm and tie yerselves to the midden-mast.

There be another important thing about September 19th.

That day be also the birthday of the scurvy landlubber,

Television's Batman...

                                                                       Adam West.


And, that's enough of the pirate talk until this time next year.

Because that is getting annoying.

So, on to Adam West.

Adam wasn't just the young, future Blog's hero in the late 1960s.

He was also the first celeb that The Blog worked with, in Hollywood.

Well...

Not the first.

That distinction goes to 'Green Acres" and "Petticoat Junction's" Hank Kimball.

                                                                   aka, Alvy Moore.


Working with Alvy on a stage production of "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe," was great.

Well... not great.

Good.

Well... not good.

But, pretty good.

Not pretty good.

But, okay.

(If you don't get the above reference, you are too young. Here is some warm milk and cookies. Now, go to bed.)

But, The Blog worked with Adam in The Blog's first real Hollywood movie.



It was a straight to cable movie in the early '80s called "Young Lady Chatterly II." Adam was comic relief (and moderate "star power,") in a movie that was mostly about young, pretty people getting naked. It starred Richard Belzer's ("Law & Order") wife Harlee McBride and Sybil Danning.

I was quite young when Adam was my favorite caped crusader. In fact, after I spent a couple of days with him, playing it cool, (I had heard that he was bitter that Batman pretty much ended his career.) it turned out he was really nice and had long ago embraced his bit of fame.



I, eventually, asked him about that.

He told me this. (I am paraphrasing, here. It was 30 years ago, so I may not have every word committed to memory, but it went, something, like this.)

"For a long time, I was bitter that I had been so typecast that I couldn't get cast for anything else. But, a few years ago, I had an epiphany. I am, at best, a mediocre actor. In spite of that, during my few years as Batman, I got to work with the best of the best in Hollywood.

Cesar Romero, Burgess Meredith, Frank Gorshin, Anne Baxter, Liberace, Roddy McDowell, Otto Preminger, (the list went on and on.)

I mean, really? Who gets to do that.

So, I have grown to embrace my time as Batman. Those years were the best years of my life."

I got my first clue that he was okay with his Batman fame on my first day with him.

"Do me a favor," he said. "Can you paint a cleft on my chin? My chin did my acting for me for several years, so I like to return the favor and make sure that it looks it's best."

We were eating lunch together, a couple of days in, when I could no longer contain myself. I broke out in a grin. Adam asked me what was so funny and I replied, "I just can't believe that I'm having lunch with Batman!"

The ice broken, at that point, I told him that when I was (x)-years-old he was my hero.

Adam put his arm around me, leaned in and said, "Don't... ever... tell anyone... ever again... how old you were when I was your hero."

Sorry, Adam. But, I'm going to do it, just this once.

I was six years old when Adam West was Batman.

And, goddamn, Batman was my hero. I was obsessed.


*A Digrssion*

Here is a moment in time that I will never forget.

It was morning in my first grade class. We had just finished reciting the Pledge of Allegiance  My teacher, Mrs. Barewald told us to put our homework in our desks. I barely opened the desktop and slipped my papers into the storage space under the desktop.

"No!" my teacher exclaimed. "(Young Blogling,) Open your desk and look."

"Weird," I thought, in my six-year-old mind.

But, open and look, I did.

There in my desk, was...

                                                                               this...

My teacher put it there, because she knew that I would love it.

I have often thought that my 5th grad teacher, Miss Linda Rosso, was the first teacher who "got" me.

But, God bless Mrs. Barewald for this small gesture.

A magazine cover that she knew would reach out to me.

I love public school teachers.

This is an example of why.

*End Digression*

We had such fun on that shoot, Adam and I.

My only regret... As I said, it was my first real job in Hollywood. And I was trying to be "professional." So, I never asked him for an autograph. I never got a picture with him. And 30 years later, I have not seen him since.

Happy Birthday, Adam West!

I hope that we will, one day, meet again.

Because, I really need to take a picture with you.

I Learned a New Word, Today

"Christianist."

As far as I can tell, it means...

...People who identify themselves as Christians...

...While not really acting in a Christ-like manner.

As an avowed atheist whose Christian upbringing helped to calibrate my moral compass...

I like it.

Christianist.

Like these Christianist folks....

Curiouser and Curiouser (Read: Crazier and Crazier)

Once again, it's too late tonight for a proper rant post.

Maybe tomorrow night.

So just a quick hit tonight.

As The Blog has mentioned in the past, I get some seriously crazy shit in my email inbox from right-wing propagandists.

But, the email that I got tonight from the legitimate sounding, but totally bullshit, some guy in his Mom's basement, "news" site, Wall Street Daily, via the right-wing vomitorium, Townhall.com, may just be the most balls-to-the-wall, bat-shit, insane bit of fuckery that I have ever seen.

The Blog apologizes in advance for any brain cell suicides, PTSD or damaged keyboards and monitors caused by any scotch/ vodka/ coffee/ warm milk that may result from passing your liquid of preference through your nose or spewed via a Danny Thomas style "spit-take."

*The above link takes about three minutes. Take the time to enjoy a bit of classic television.*

You can use that time to brace yourselves for this.

Because here it comes....

                                            "Click" to enlarge so you can read it. But, you know that.


Oh, and the subject line was this...

"California to be absorbed into Mexico by October"

Another Delay

Once again, it is too late to post anything meaningful, tonight.

And, as often happens when I am writing a post that I have a passionate point of view about, the research has taken on a life of it's own and is coming faster than I can keep up with.

So, sit tight. That post is imminent.

In the meantime...

A great big "Happy Birthday" to The Blog's favorite geek goddess...

...Daughter of an idol of my youth, special effects master John Dykstra, and his wife and my friend Cass...

... Former elementary school student of my little sister...

... And object of The Blog's own nerd crush...

                                                                     Chloe Dykstra.

Postponed

Good news, class.

Due to the late hour, The Blog will not be posting the follow-up to last night's post until tomorrow night.

That means you have one more day to do your homework, if you haven't already.

You're welcome.

                                    _________________________________________

In the meantime...

Just a passing thought.

To my fellow Bat-fans who are, prematurely, getting their capes in a bunch over the casting of Ben Affleck as Batman, I have two words...

                                                                      Michael. Keaton.



Remember how pissed the fanboys were when it was announced that "Mr. Mom" had been cast as The Dark Knight?

Never mind that he had also been...

                                                           Mother fucking Beetlejuice!

Then, remember a few years later, when the same fanboys were even more pissed that "Batman Forever" director Joel Schumacher passed on Keaton in favor of...

                                                                      Val Kilmer?


Shit! Even Schumacher regretted that casting decision.

So, everybody just chill. Okay?

Don't even get me started about the "outside the box" casting of "The Dark Knight Trilogy," that (mostly) worked. 

*Note to self... do a post about that in the next week or so.*

"The Dark Knight's" Christopher Nolan is the Executive Producer of "The Man of Steel" movies. Based on his casting track record, The PC is not going to lose any sleep over Nolan's signing off on Affleck.

I am inclined to trust his instincts.