They Deftly Maneuver and Muscle for Rank, Fuel Burning Fast on an Empty Tank...

If you can't handle driving on the freeway/expressway/tollway, don't. Period. And if you have absolutely no other choice, then you better not be anywhere other than the far right lane. Putz.

If you've been going the same speed for five miles, and when you see me check my rear view mirror you suddenly speed up and pull alongside of me so I can't move over in front of you... I hope you get anally raped by a pine tree.

If you're behind me and you can see that right in front of me is a large truck or other vehicle not travelling the speed limit, and there is not yet an opportunity to pass this vehicle for either of us...when that opportunity does arise, if you immediately move over and speed up so I can't move over myself, I hope your tire explodes sending you careening in front of the big truck so you shit yourself and you cry. Same thing if we're coming off an on-ramp and you decide to sneak over early and block me from getting on myself, goat blower.

If you need to use an exit, and you see a line of cars in the lane leading to said exit, and you stay in another lane in order to hopefully join the lane you need to be in at the last possible moment, exploiting a just-big-enough gap left by someone who hesitated just a moment in keeping up... you are a douche. You have just become the reason for the backup you found not worth the extra 30-60 seconds it might have cost you, and made it that much longer for the people who went where they were supposed to -only to watch douche after douche like you continue to keep the line from moving.
Along these lines, if you see signs or big flashing arrows ahead of you letting you know that you need to get into another lane, as the one you're in will be shortly unavailable, and seeing the line of cars who have heeded that warning, you continue along until the last possible moment before merging into that lane, you are also a douche. If, in this situation, you also swerve around the vehicle taking it upon itself to stay in your lane and keep you from being a douche (the unsung heroes of rush hour), you are a fucking douche, and deserve to be laughed at when someone shoots out your tire, sending you into a fiery collision with the median or oncoming traffic.

If you are approaching an intersection, and you have a green light, but the next light ahead is red and traffic is backed up all the way to your light, leaving you nowhere to go but to park in the middle of the intersection, and you choose to do so instead of remaining at the line until you can actually go somewhere... and then your light turns red and you're now blocking traffic perpendicular to you... you're a dumbass douche who deserves to be T-boned. An aside: if you are guilty of this, and upon commencement of horns from the drivers you've now pissed off completely you throw up your hands and give a look like "what am I supposed to do?" you deserve to be T-boned from both sides at once, because yes, everyone, including yourself, saw this coming and you still proceeded to screw things up for everyone else.
Along these lines, if you are making a left turn, and there are two or three cars ahead of you- yet to make their turn- and the light is yellow, meaning by the time you're even close to being able to start to make your turn the light will be red, and you still make the turn... you're a huge fucking douche. Make that turn and end up sitting in the middle of the intersection... you're the douche of a huge fucking douche.

See, all these things so far mean either you're not paying attention, or you're saying fuck everyone else. Either way, you have no right to be behind the wheel as you're going to cause an accident. And unfortunately, it'll end up killing somebody's grandma or a van full of children or ME... instead of just YOU, which I would be totally OK with.

If I let the car in front of you into traffic in front of me, and you ride their ass to sneak in with them instead of waiting for the car behind me to let you in, as is customary, don't be surprised if I T-bone your douche ass myself you cock smoking, holier-than-thou jizz-whore.

These situations are the reason for road rage. They are the reason for traffic jams and accidents. By doing these things, you become the very reason for your urge to do them. You are creating the situation for someone else that you are trying to avoid being in yourself. And for what? To get somewhere a minute earlier? To be "King of the Hill?" Here's a novel fucking idea, leave five minutes earlier and you won't have to rush to get anywhere. Don't be the collossal douche that causes all the situations that back up traffic, and the ten mile commute won't take 45 minutes instead of 10. Use your fucking heads, people. Here's the thing... if everybody drove the speed limit, and actually would heed the rules of the road, there wouldn't be such a thing as road rage. There wouldn't be traffic jams, or at least not so many of them, as there would also be less accidents. Traffic would move smoothly, just as the rules were put in place to ensure. This is basic, everyday common sense. You do something stupid on the road like cut somebody off, that forces the person behind you to react, and the person behind that person, and so on... until before you know it there's a major delay somewhere far away from the initial incident. And that's just a minor repercussion, the result of braking for a squirrel, or a ball rolling into the road, or even just a strong gust of wind. Nothing necessarily intentional or controllable. What causes the REAL issues are the things that people do intentionally, constantly, with no regard for anyone else, and without thinking period. 

And while I'm at it, a question. Did I miss a memo? I've been driving for over 20 years now. Up until a year or two ago, if you came to a four-way stop, and you were turning left, and the car opposite you was coming straight through... that car went first, and you made your left turn behind them. It just makes sense. It flows correctly, and it doesn't hold up traffic any more than if both vehicles were going straight through. All of a sudden it becomes standard for the person turning to go first, adding time for everyone else waiting there at the intersection. I'm guessing that it's because of all the asshole drivers I mentioned earlier being douchebags and deciding their turn was way more important than everyone else there, and with more and more people in the world, there are more and more douchebags doing it, and because it's illegal to shoot them everybody just decided "fuck it I'll do it too," thus eliminating yet another simple, highly effective norm... replacing it with shit. Great job again, America.



People suck. End of story.
Go for a drive and try to disagree.

Fireflies Dance in the Heat of Hound Dogs That Bay at the Moon...

Summer days have come and gone, and I've been remiss in making time to sit down and vent here. So many things have changed in the last few months, including my allotment of free time. I believe a quick review is in order...

I was unemployed, as the season began, with many plans to occupy my free time in a productive manner. I was set on working in the yard at my grandparents' house, doing everything I could to try and bring it back to at least a portion of its former glory. There was a special someone in my life whom I tried to see as much as I could. A little too hard, maybe. That ended as the dog days were just starting to bark. The way it did was, well, to put it bluntly, shitty. Whatever the reason, and I'm sure it was valid and deserved, it could have been gone about very differently. It truly bothers me that at this point, given what's transpired since, and just with the passage of time, that I'm still bitter about it. What bothers me even more, is although in this instance I was leaps and bounds from the scared shitless, unconfident, self-loathing loser I've been with almost every woman previously, there was still enough residually to keep me from ever being one hundred percent comfortable with myself around her, and therefore she never truly got to know the real me. I was getting there, though, and I try not to think about what might be different about today had I just gotten there a little sooner.

Soon after, and still in a bit of a funk, I started working again. Back to the same place, same job, same old same old. There went yardwork plans. There went most all of my plans. Vacation was over. No more closing the bar during the week. No more sleeping in. Leisurely drives wherever I felt like going became hellish commutes that stripped away whatever faith I had left in the decency of people in general (another blog for another day). I had to go through three weeks of training. For a job I had barely been gone from, and having nothing to do with what I would be doing. Any free time I had or planned on having just dissolved into thin air. In bed by 9:00 every night.
Good times.

Then I met someone. The commute became a little easier. Getting through the day wasn't so hard. I was comfortable around her immediately. I was able to be myself around her immediately. It was like something out of a movie. It was easy. It was right. It was like it was just supposed to be. Scary? Yes. Fast? Yes. Wrong? Not a chance in Hell. I haven't been that certain about something in a long, long time. But it turns out maybe I shouldn't have been. Maybe I read it all wrong. Maybe I didn't. At this point it's all kind of in a state of suspended animation. And I don't particularly care for it. Not knowing is bringing back some of the fears and lack of confidence, little by little, possibly determining a much different fate than was originally thought to be definitely in store. I guess time will tell, though. I'm not writing it off just yet. That certainty in my gut is still there.
So far.
Just a little harder to see it.

Lord help me...


In any case, autumn is upon us, one of my favorite times of year. Looking forward to apple picking with the kiddos, being able to sleep without sweating my ass off, maybe a bonfire or two... Things at work are shaping up to look like maybe the third time really is the charm and I'll become a permanent fixture there. Not getting my hopes up, though. That never seems to work out for me.
In any situation.
Life is good... save for the one circumstance of unknowingness. And it's pretty good even still.
Making time now, making changes. Nowhere to go but up...

Right?

Like Kurosawa I Make Mad Films...

Coming soon to a theater near you...

The movie based on the musical based on the classic film based on the book adapted from the teleplay of the two-part, very special episode of the American TV show originating  from the hit British mini-series based on actual events written about in a magazine article sparked by 

an earlier review of a Kurosawa film that was never released......

 In a world........

I've decided I have to get back to screenwriting. Apparently Hollywood is bereft of creativity these days. I don't want to see remakes of movies that were perfect-- ARE perfect-- already. I don't want to see movies based on bad television shows that nobody watched to begin with. Does nobody have an original idea anymore? Has literally EVERYTHING been done? Damn, I hope not.

Arthur was remade this year. This one actually looks like it might be a good movie, but trailers have misled me before. Dudley Moore was amazing as Arthur. The movie is a classic. Maybe not the best movie ever made, nor even in the top ten or twenty, but a CLASSIC. I just hope this is one of the rare occasions that the remake might stand apart, be watchable on its own merits and not just be an attempt to cash in on nostalgia, or attempt to bring something to a new audience by merely changing the setting to present day, updating the special effects, and losing the whole original social commentary or point.

Will Smith decided his son, who can't act his way out of a paper bag, needed work he wouldn't be able to get on his own, and remade The Karate Kid. Remade it, and actually called it The Karate Kid, but it's set in China and is about a youngster learning Kung-Fu and falling in love at the age of TEN. Seriously? Not only do you piss everybody off by remaking a beloved film, but you can't even do it in keeping with it's own title?

I've seen it, by the way. Not a horrible film.
If you can look past the horrible acting by the Smith kid, and forget about the title.

Oh, and turn down the volume before the Justin Bieber victory song at the end credits.
Which is actually a pretty cool song, just needed to be done by Survivor or Frank Stallone.

But I digress....

One movie I would actually like to see redone, and I know I'll get flack for it, but hear me out... The Wizard of Oz. I think this one would be a prime candidate for an update, along the same lines as The Chronicles of Narnia. Do the whole series of books, and stick to the books. The original movie is definitely a favorite of mine. It's a fucking classic amongst classics. It stands alone, on its own. A remake, with today's special effects, without all the musical numbers, could really bring the book alive in a whole new and different way... and you have a series of books to pull from. In this situation, done completely differently than the first time around, a remake can be a welcome thing. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I tend to hold in this category. The original movie, Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, so named because Roald Dahl himself didn't like the direction they took with it and refused to give the rights for the proper title, stands on its own. It is a classic, I grew up with it. The Tim Burton version, to me also stands on its own. It keeps truer to the book and brings it to life in its own way. I may be completely wrong, but I also tend to believe the Oompa Loompa musical numbers are strictly an homage to the first movie. They work for me that way.

They are remaking The Wizard of Oz, if you were unaware.
From the original script.

For the most part, though, they should just leave classic films alone. I get the whole "re-imagining" thing, really I do, a new spin, a new vision, trying to improve upon the original... and that's fine. If you're doing something different with it, though, why not just do it all the way differently? Why name it the same? Why force a comparison? I Am Legend is a remake of The Omega Man, which is itself a remake. You've Got Mail is a remake of 1940's The Shop Around the Corner. Meet Joe Black is Death Takes a Holiday. Disturbia is Rear Window. You might have thought these were original films. Plus, there are all the movies that are remakes of foreign films: The Departed, The Ring, Three Men and a Baby, The Magnificent Seven, The Birdcage, The Grudge, 12 Monkeys, and many, MANY more. Pick a shakespearean work, any work, and there are any number of movies based on it. We as American moviegoers, though, don't realize these are remakes or re-workings. At least not until the end, when we realize that Hey, I've seen this before!

But to overtly remake something that is a classic in its own right, to have the audacity to say you can make a Hitchcock movie better than Hitchcock? Wow. I just don't get it. Not at all.

But the people will go see.

And money will be made.

And they'll keep on recycling the same things over and over again.

Oh, and here's some of what we have to look forward to...

The Birds
Red Dawn
Porky's
Short Circuit
Footloose
The Blob
A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 (Are they remaking the whole damned series?)
Total Recall
Escape From New York
The Crow
POLTERGEIST (?!?!?)
Highlander
The Neverending Story
Rosemary's Baby
The Warriors
Death Wish
Pet Sematary
Romancing the Stone
Gilligan's Island

There are so many more.

So many.

I need to go cry now.

...Now I Long For Yesterday.

The Empire Carpet Man has passed away.
Television will never be the same.

We had 5 or 6 channels when I was a kid. Aside from PBS, he was on all of them, numerous times throughout the day. "588- two- three hundred... Empire!" Until the day I die, I will never be unaware of the number to dial for new carpeting. It's permanently etched into my brain.

And when you need those carpets cleaned, just call Boushelle at "HUDSON three- two- seven hundred."

My kids will have forgotten the Empire phone number by next Tuesday, if they even know it now. They'll probably never know how something like that can get imprinted into their grey matter, with the possible exception of "AFLAC!"

But it's not the same.

Where's the beef? Sorry Charlie. Meow meow meow meow. Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Mayer weiner. You deserve a break today. Double your pleasure. When it's time to relax, one beer stands clear. Wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too? I am stuck on Band-Aid. It's the real thing. A little dab'll do ya'. From the land of sky blue water. Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee. I can't believe I ate the whole thing. Please, don't squeeze the Charmin. Ancient Chinese secret, huh? Give a Hoot! He won't eat it, he hates everything. You're soaking in it!

It just isn't the same.

Goodbye Mr. Hauldren. It was nice growing up with you.

Here's to good friends. Tonight is kinda' special...

I'll Be Alone... Dancing. You Know it, Baby.

None of them were Citizen Kane. That wasn't the point. They moved a generation, though. I was inspired by them. My friends were inspired by them. I've decided that this weekend begins the true introduction to my kids (Uncle Buck doesn't count), via young Mr. Bueller.
I was at the man's son's high school graduation ceremony. I wish I had had the balls to seek him out and shake his hand...
and thank him.
Life truly is a John Hughes movie...


Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns.

Love's a bitch, Duck. Love's a bitch.

We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all.

Being bad feels pretty good, huh?

My God, are we gonna be like our parents? ...Not me.
It's unavoidable. Just happens... What happens?
When you grow up, your heart dies...

A person should not believe in an -ism, he should believe in himself. I quote John Lennon, "I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me." Good point there. After all, he was the walrus.

Yeah, you'll be happy. You just won't know it, that's all.

Sooner or later, everyone goes to the zoo.

Everything isn't like home. If everything were like home, there would be no reason for leaving home.

Despite all the little problems it's fun isn't it? No. But with every new day there's fresh hope.

When you don't have anything, you don't have anything to lose. Right?

I can't believe this. They fucking forgot my birthday.

I swear to God this has got be a joke.

I don't know why they call this stuff hamburger helper. It does just fine by itself, huh?

If you give off signals that you don't want to belong, people will make sure that you don't.

I just want them to know that they didn't break me.

Chicks cannot hold their smoke, dat's what it is.

We don't have none of this stuff in the boy's room! Wait a minute! We don't got none of this... we don't got doors on the stalls in the boy's room, we don't have, what is this? What's this? We don't have a candy machine in the boy's room! 

If somebody doesn't believe in me, I can't believe in them.

Screws fall out all the time, the world is an imperfect place.

You know, it's so insane that someone you've never met, never talked to can be your enemy. 

It's better to swallow pride than blood.

Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.




































You're still here? It's over!


Go home.


Go.

In the Time of Chimpanzees I Was a Monkey...

Pushing 40. Unemployed.
Again.

When is it too late to try and follow a dream? Is it ridiculous of me to consider taking a chance on something new now? Start a business? No money to start one. Move away and find something new? Maybe 15 years ago, before the kids came along. Get a degree? Let me count the reasons that isn't feasible...

I have all the time in the world, but no time at all. Starting over isn't what I'm supposed to be doing at this point. Worrying about feeding my kids isn't supposed to be an issue at this point. What the hell happened? Where did everything go wrong? Where do I go from here?

I could start writing music again, hope to sell a song or two. I could finish one of my 20 year old screenplays, hope to find an indie producer who thinks it's worthy of something. I could buckle down and turn this blog into something, see if there's enough interest in my incessant blathering to make a little revenue that way. Start my own record label, write a novel, record the next huge wedding song, figure out how to become the next Youtube sensation...

Most likely I'll end up answering phones again. Or tending bar. Or cutting keys down at the hardware store.

Or selling flowers under an overpass.

All the while telling my kids to never give up on their dreams...

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty-four?

I love my family. Really, I do. But if my parents get to be ninety something and falling apart, I do hope one of my brothers steps up.

My great uncle just turned 92 on Saturday. About a month ago, he wrapped his car around a tree. In the last year, he's probably been in 3 or 4 accidents. He can only see out of one eye, can't hear even with his hearing aids in, suffice to say my mother has written the DMV to ask that they NOT EVER reissue him a license. He's a hoarder, as well. The first week he was home from the hospital this go 'round, he fell twice. Once it took him almost two hours to get up, and the next time he would have been there for days if my mother hadn't happened to stop by and check on him.

My grandmother (this uncle's sister) lived just around the corner from us, three houses away. Before she passed, the house was sold to my mother and my uncle (Mom's brother.) I lived there for awhile shortly before and after I was first married, then we moved out when my estranged aunt moved in. This past October my uncle passed, leaving the house solely in my mother's name, its only occupant being my estranged aunt. Being a 1958 cookie-cutter ranch, there are no stairs or even steps to deal with. My folks decided to move my great uncle there for a while, so they can get his house cleaned up enough it's not a hazard to him or any other living thing. He fought almost kicking and screaming. He didn't need to move there. He was perfectly capable of driving, as soon as the insurance paid him he was going to get another car. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He wasn't about to become anybody's burden.

Next Monday will be two weeks since he's been there. Upon relenting, his one request was that he could come over to our house for dinner every night, so he could have "at least one decent meal a day." Every night now, ten minutes before we eat, my father drives over, three houses down, and picks him up for dinner. It takes that long for him to get from the house to the car, into and, momentarily,  out of the car, and into our house.

Yes, I live with my parents. No, it's not by choice, it's not a lifestyle decision, it's not something I'm proud of.
At all.
But that's a story for another day.

I don't generally eat with my folks. I get my food and retreat to my bedroom where it kinda seems like I actually have my own space. When my kids visit, though, dinner is a family sit-down deal. As it should be. Except now I have to sit next to my uncle. Some teeth are missing. When he sits, or stands up, there is inevitably a symphony of wind breakage. First row, in front of the speaker stack levels. He wears Depends. He can't hear. He's the only one in the room oblivious to the aural mayhem. Every move his out-of-warranty body makes is accompanied by a low, guttural groan. When he chews, his mouth doesn't seem to be able to close... making the slobbery lip smacking all the more curious. Milk is slurped, as is the post meal cup o' joe. He reaches across the table and stabs a roll with his fork, rather than asking someone to pass him one. His scent is less than pleasant. I've been surprised I'm able to finish most meals thus far. Noisy eaters absolutely nauseate me. No exaggeration. Combine all of the above, my children should be looking upon me as a god after each meal kept within the confines of my belly.

He was a great guy as I was growing up. The uncle that read EVERYTHING. Therefore he KNEW everything. He lives on a lake, so we were always over there fishing or ice skating or whatever there was to do each season. A lifelong bachelor. We have our theories about that, but he's not gay. Every time he came over to visit, my brothers and I each got a box of Cracker Jack. Back when the prizes inside were actually cool. Every birthday, Christmas and Easter there was $10 in the card, along with whatever gift he was giving. Nowadays it's $25, mainly because he's old and doesn't even attempt to do anything exorbitant with his gifts anymore. He was on a submarine crew during WWII. Afterwards, spent the rest of his working days on a printing press at a major newspaper. A helluva guy any which way you look at it.

Now he's a decrepit old man, slowly losing his memory along with what little hearing and vision he has left. He falls asleep in whatever chair he might be sitting in, irregardless of the time of day.

And he nauseates me.

It only nauseates me more that I have to admit that of myself.
And I wonder if one of my kids, or nephews, or anyone who loves me at that point in my life will be jotting down similar thoughts...

Midnight on the water, I saw the ocean's daughter...

Have you ever met someone that you just couldn't stop thinking about? Wouldn't stop thinking about? Someone you feel like you've known for a lifetime, but maybe it's only been a month, or a week, or a day?

You wonder if you even ever cross her mind without you reminding her you're alive. You want to skip your usual "good morning" to find out how long it takes for her to say it first, to say anything first, but you don't want to find out that she might not say anything... so you say it anyway.

When you're together, you hang on every word that comes out of her mouth, drinking it in like wine from the Grail no matter how small the talk... because you don't want to miss even the smallest thing that might mean something.

When you close your eyes all you see are hers.

At dinner, as her leg bounces under the table, you wonder if she's just fidgety. Or wishes she was somewhere else.

Or is just as nervous as you are... and for all the same reasons.

You want to let her know how you feel. Need to. But you're scared to death it will scare her off.

You get sick to your stomach at the thought, even though you don't even know quite what it is yet, or what it could eventually be.

All you know is that you really want to find out.

Even though you have similar personalities, a similar sense of humor, like-minded thoughts and opinions... you're still on your best behavior. Not because you might be afraid of offending her, but because she deserves that of you.

You're happier than you've been in ages. Ambitions and motivations are rejuvenated, you want to be a better you than you are.

You've never been so scared in your life, and you're not even to a point where that would seem at least somewhat rational.

You don't know what you're feeling or why, just that it's good... and if you are just tilting windmills you don't want to know even one second before you're supposed to.

Despite steeling yourself as best you can against it, the thought still creeps in that she'll realize she can do so much better than you. You almost talk yourself out of it before anything has a chance...

Like usual.

But you don't.

Well, have you?