So I’ve been looking for the perfect notification alert. The one that encapsulates, you know, me. My essence.
I started with Gunter’s “wenk wenk” from Adventure Time.
I tried the opening from Cowboy Bebop’s Tank!. (No, the exclamation point is really in the song title.)
I gave the Knights Who say “Ni” saying “Ni!” a go.
Anyway, now I’ve got the sound of Pacman dying.
… although this post title is.
Hi, everybody! I’m not dead or even in a coma, but it has been very busy at work, and also I did Thanksgiving (you guys should try my mashed potatoes with caramelized onions, because they are so good), so Internetting has been about the last thing on my mind.
But I’m back, and I’m sorry, and I went to Moana with my daughter last weekend, because sometimes she makes me go to Disney movies. (I guess our only other option was the new Harry Potter minus Harry Potter thing, but, then again, Eddie Redmayne is really pretty.)
So, Moana! Here’s some things I love about it:
- Casting actual Pacific Islanders to voice-act. That’s cool.
- The song the crab sings.
- Dwayne Johnson is finally the sexiest man alive, like, jeez, what took so long? Where you waiting for him to not be alive?
- Auli’i Cravalho has a gorgeous voice.
Also, the plot was fine, and I’m pretty sure they got the Maui myth about right (I’m sorry, but I’m not as up on my Pacific Island mythology/folklore as I should be!), and the stupid chicken was even stupider than the chicken I had when I was a kid, so that was good.
My daughter says it was really good and you should go watch it, and I’ll just say: Yeah, it was fine.
Yeah, so, apparently Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher had a torrid affair during the filming of Star Wars, which would be cool, because, like, wow! Han and Leia were really in love, that’s great, but it’s not cool because Harrison Ford was totally married and Carrie Fisher was totally only 19, and now one of my favorite movie romances is ruined!
Thank God I have my other favorite movie romance to fall back on.
It’s been a bad week, obviously, but last night a friend and I went to the movies to forget our troubles and also, in my case, to ogle Benedict Cumberbatch.
That’s right, we saw Doctor Strange! It was great!
Oh, you wonder how the movie itself was? Well, way too much backstory, for one thing. Some hokey CGI work for another. Really obvious dialogue and story/character beats (there’s one character that Dr. Strange asks, “Do you ever laugh?” and you know he’s going to laugh at the end of the movie, and then he does, and it’s like, “Yeah, duh.”)
The middle part drags and the end drags and also the beginning drags, and there’s this romantic subplot that maybe people who don’t want to marry Benedict Cumberbatch when they grow up might be interested in, but I don’t think so.
I had hoped that I lived in a country where people wouldn’t vote for someone who gives them an easy scapegoat for all their problems.
I had hoped that I lived in a country where people wouldn’t vote for someone who treats women as objects.
I had hoped that I lived in a country where people wouldn’t vote for someone who says if we give the rich tax breaks, it will benefit the poor.
I had hoped that I lived in a country where people wouldn’t vote for someone who insults disabled people, and women, and dark-skinned people, and anyone who isn’t exactly like him.
I had hoped that I lived in a country where people wouldn’t vote for a hatemonger.
I had hoped that I lived in a country where my neighbors wouldn’t tell their daughter that “Hillary kills babies” and “Obama is a terrorist.”
I had hoped that I lived in a country where the woman I met at my work who described her own granddaughter as “the little darkie” was the exception, not the rule.
I don’t live in that country. I am ashamed of us. I am ashamed of myself for not being able to convince more people that love should triumph, not hatred.
Today, I am ashamed.
Tomorrow, I will carry on.
Dear My Country:
Please don’t vote for evil, or you will make this hamster sad.
I thank you, and these baby hamsters thank you.
My former favorite coworker recently related to me a story of her brother-in-law in Texas.
“After he voted for Donald Trump,” she tells me, “he had to go have a stiff drink to clear the bad taste out of his mouth.”
“Well, it’s not like he had to vote for Trump, you know,” I said. “He had options.”
“Yes, but if you want to keep your party in power, you have to vote for Trump,” she replied.
“Gross,” I said.
Because, seriously, how do you take a song as awesome as Warren Zevon’s Werewolves of London and combine it with the classic southern rock of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama and make something that sucks?
(P.S. I linked to the two good songs, but if you want to listen to Kid Rock, you’re going to have to find him your own damn self.)
… is the one who added the Twin Peaks theme to the playlist at work.
In one corner, we have the best lady android ever, R. Dorothy Wayneright. She is the sidekick of the Japanese Batman, who wears nice suits and pilots a giant robot, making him even more awesome than regular Batman.
In the other corner, we have Robin, who is the sidekick of regular Batman, who is actually pretty awesome, even if he doesn’t pilot a giant robot.
Who shall win? Let’s find out, why not.
Physicality. Robin is an athletic teenage boy or young man in his early 20s, depending on your source. I mean, sure, who doesn’t like athletic young men, amiright? R. Dorothy Wayneright is a robot designed to look like a young woman with a really cute pageboy. Winner? I’m a sucker for girls with cute pageboys. R. Dorothy Wayneright.
Is a fighting machine? Robin has been trained to be a fighting machine by Batman, the fightiest of all the fighting superheroes. On the other hand, R. Dorothy Wayneright is actually a machine. Winner? R. Dorothy Wayneright.
Lives in a post-apocalyptic world, or possibly a Matrix-esque simulation? Robin lives in, like, our world, except physics is insane there, which must be nice, because people can fly and whatever. R. Dorothy Wayneright lives in Paradigm City, where everybody lost their memories 40 years ago, after some sort of apocalyptic scenario, or else everything is just a Matrix-esque simulation and life is only a fleeting dream. Winner? R. Dorothy Wayneright.
Has a better code name? Dick Grayson’s code name is Robin, which is a pretty, pretty bird. R. Dorothy Wayneright’s code name is R. Dorothy Wayneright, because awesome lady androids don’t need code names, that why. Winner? R. Dorothy Wayneright.
This battle is seeming pretty lopsided. Yeah, I’m rewatching The Big O, and I remembered how much I love R. Dorothy Wayneright, and I never have liked Robin, but I haven’t had any good blog ideas lately, so I thought, hey! Why not?
So should we just call it then? Yes. Yes, we should.
Overall winner? R. Dorothy Wayneright, the best lady android ever!