#RegretADayAgain

[regretadayagain]

DAY 220: Golden Grampas

I regret that I’ve lived this much of my life without knowing the joy of THIS Tumblr:

It’s ridiculously goofy, random scenes that never actually happened between the members of the Traveling Wilburys.

You know, the late 80′s supergroup that included a Beatle,

a wannabe Beatle (or as they’re known in the wild, a WannaBeatle),

a young guy who ripped off Bob Dylan’s vocal delivery, an old guy who ripped off Bob Dylan’s vocal delivery even more

& a guy who was at least partially responsible for all of their careers.

Yep. It’s all those guys, but filtered through Bizarro world. Reading through the Incorrect Wilburys entries, it’s like a twisted, all male version of “Golden Girls” set in a mirror universe. 

It’s one of those ideas that I regret I didn’t do first. Flash fan fiction that’s brilliant in its self-awareness of how wonderfully rock geeky & intentionally rock stupid it is. 

I don’t know. Maybe I’m overselling it. 

HERE IT IS.

All the Wilbury fans reading this can judge for themselves. 

[regretadayagain]

DAY 32: Hexeosis

I regret stumbling upon the sublime artistry of Hexeosis.

I’m just...speechless over here.

I could stare at this stuff for hours.

I could lose sleep staring into it.

I could lose my job because of how much time I waste glaring into it.

In fact, I’ve been gazing at these for so long, I’m starting to regret that I don’t live inside these infinite worlds.

I also regret that all I do is write, as opposed to creating something as badass as this.

You win this round, Hexeosis.   You win THIS round.

Check out the Hexeosis store HERE

[regretadayagain]

DAY 204: Prune Danish Snooze Button

This fucking bullshit needs to get the fuck out of my head:

The worst part about this is that I essentially wasted 15 minutes of my life researching Strawberry Alarm Clock just to see if there was more to this band beyond this psychedelic poseur pablum.

SPOILER ALERT: THERE ISN’T.

There’s so little creative substance to this band of fake hippies that they’re forced to relive their heyday in the most embarrassing ways.

Sidenote: I never match my socks. And here’s why: what’s the point?

I feel like we already go through our lives doing meaningless, menial shit. By not taking the time to gather them from the dryer, match them up & put them away, I’m somehow adding days/weeks/months to my life in the long run.

And yet, I regret that I’ll enjoy 15 minutes LESS on my deathbed because of the fucking Strawberry Alarm Clock.

THIS guy knows what I’m talking about:

Ditto THAT guy with the sitar (sort of):

But not THESE guys:

They clearly gave up a LONNNNNNNNNNNG time ago.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 190: Giffen & Hex

This is Keith Giffen.

I’ve been stupidly obsessed with him since he was a writer on THIS comic back in the 80′s:

But as fate would have it, I’ve been unknowingly collecting his work since the 70′s, since he was an artist on one of the first issues I ever read:

Like a lot of artists back then, he was hired to bring his best “Kirby” to the title. And let’s just say that he did NOT disappoint. 

I mean, it’s clearly NOT Jack Kirby, but it’s damn close. But the point is, I was digging on Giffen back when I wasn’t even aware of it. 

Later, he made a dent with his run on Legion of Super-Heroes. But I actually became aware of him as an artist when I picked up an issue with THIS issue:

The meta nature of this thing was groundbreaking to me, not to mention his style, which was like nothing that was out there at the time. 

Hell, his plotting & panel composition alone caused readers to have to stare intently into pages for minutes just to make out what was going on.

It’s like it was a game to him, seeing how minimal he could make each panel.

Sort of a deconstructed approach. Which only got more & more deconstructed year after year, until you got awesome shit like THIS:

I guess where I’m going with this is that I’ve had a Giffen checklist for a number of years. And I’ve essentially bought runs of comics, as well as individual issues, based on the fact that he illustrated them.

Even titles I wouldn’t normally buy.

Which is where we’re at today. 

I just read THIS issue:

This Jonah Hex spin-off tossed him into 2050, where he battled post-apocalyptic weirdos, armed with only his six-shooters.

I only own a few of the other Giffen drawn stories.

And now I regret that I’ll probably end up buying the entire run of this, even though that only requires me to buy, what, 15 more issues?

Still, that last panel where he discovers a stuffed version of himself from the past 

will probably make me buy everything AFTER that, too.

Or rather BEFORE that.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 184: Bears vs. Dolphins

That’s right. Another Pink Floyd regret. 

(Happy 4th, BTW. Stick around if you want. We’re firing up the grill in a little bit.)

So, this has to do with the accompanying interview section from THIS little gem of a concert film:

First off, even if you’re NOT a Floyd fan, you should watch this thing. It’s a rock spectacle like no other, 

which transcends not only the original album, but also the initial concerts in LA & the UK.

But the interview section is like manna from Heaven for Floyd fans. It’s just two old friends (drummer Nick Mason & bassist Roger Waters) sitting in a pub, shooting the shit, while answering questions from fans from all over the world.

After all the blow-ups & in-fighting that I’ve read about this band over the years, I find it extremely touching.

Given, very little of this animosity was supposedly between Nick & Roger. They’d been thick as thieves since architectural school. 

Let’s just say that this interview session might’ve taken on a less cordial, less jovial tone if it’d been David Gilmour & Waters. 

Although they’re both older now & a lot of the shit between them has obviously been buried. 

Still, as I watch this interview session with Nick & Roger, I kind of regret that all three of them weren’t sitting there, answering questions.

I also regret that the interview didn’t include ALL the questions that were sitting there on the table. I mean, look at that stack. 

It’s fucking huge. 

Lastly, I regret that I’ll never see who wins in a fight: Roger Waters riding a dolphin or Nick Mason in a bear costume.

The Floyd boys have their own opinions, which can be heard HERE.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 192: I Met Roger Waters Last Night

Seriously. 

And it was fucking surreal. 

We were both in this department store at MOA. And I did something I’d usually never do: I WALKED UP TO HIM & INTRODUCED MYSELF.

Me: a guy who’s never done anything on the scale of what he’s accomplished.

And it FUCKING WORKED.

He immediately made conversation, asking me what I thought of a shirt he was looking at. It was this really busy, un-Rog, overly expensive Michael Kors button-down. Something like THIS, I think.

To be honest, I was so flustered that he was talking to a fucking schlub like me, I have trouble remembering. I’m pretty sure I just told him to stick to basic black.

Anyway, there we were, just shooting the shit in the Men’s section. Not surprisingly, we agreed on a lot of your average life stuff (gun control, immigration rights, our insignificant place in the universe, the kind of toilet paper we use). Mostly human shit, as opposed to Pink Floyd stuff I was dying to ask (although I DID get a chance to ask him a few obscure things, like trivia about “The Final Cut” & some random junk about “Music From The Body”).

At one point, I told him about all the young women who’ve devoted their Tumblrs to him.

ROGER - Whaddya’ mean “young women?” ME - I don’t know how old any of them are. ROGER - Well, you specifically said “young,” so I figured that would have something to do with it.

Which led me whipping out my phone & showing him all the brilliant Floyd caricatures, 

wicked cool fan fiction,

random-ass Floyd posts

& drooled-over photos filled with threads of lusty comments, devoted to his much younger self. 

He’s completely taken aback by this. While he throught it was flattering, he added:

ROGER - I’ve absolutely no idea why any young person would be this infatuated with an old geezer like me.

Pretty soon, we parted company, but not before I asked him to take a photo with me. He says I should just wait until we get outside. And I don’t know what that means until we exit through a back door.

Suddenly, there are a shitload of people waiting for us outside, almost immediately closing in on us. 

I felt my arm getting practically yanked out of its socket by this ham-fisted Andre the Giant type, who swiftly ushered me behind the mob, plopping me into a lawn chair & handing me a copy of Rog’s 2017 album.

Roger stood against the door we just came out of, being kept safe from the throng by a line of other bruisers. A roadie zipped out of the door we just left, set up a mic stand, handed Roger an acoustic guitar & goes back in, at which point Roger started playing as if this was all planned.

I sat in my lawn chair next to 2 women & a gay guy, none of which seemed to be fans of Rog’s or Floyd’s music. They just happened to be in the parking lot with chairs, fully liquored up, decked out in swimsuits, & tanning (for some reason).

As Rog spoke to the audience in-between songs, one of the women started asking him a question, as if they were in the middle of a conversation. 

GAY GUY - (leaning over to her, but still yelling full voice) HE’S NOT TALKING TO YOU, HON! Rog finished his mini-concert with a song from his weird opera that nobody ever cared about

& is gone before I can get a photo with him. 

It was fucking downer, considering how cool the day had started. 

As I sat there, watching the crowd disperse, one of the drunk women told me she’d sell me tickets to his REAL concert. When I asked when it was happening, she said October 2nd.

That’s when I woke up.

And I really regret the fact that this was all a dream. It felt SO FUCKING REAL. As the morning turned to afternoon, I could still hear the conversation Roger & I had in that stupid department store.

As much as I regret that it didn’t happen, it feels like an honest-to-God memory that actually did.

And maybe that’s good enough. For now.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 209: Doit Écraser le Capitalisme

I’ve been burning through THIS book lately:

Besides being written by one of the longest-running writers/showrunners of “The Simpsons,” Mike Reiss is (as you might guess) REALLY funny. He even starts the book out by saying that it’s structured like your average Simpsons script (& by that I mean any of the decent ones written within the first 9 seasons): 

it’s broken up into 3 acts & seriously delivers in terms of mixing the heart-warming with the hilarious.

There’s a treasure trove of Simpsons trivia & behind-the-scenes stuff that I could go into, but the only thing that applies to THIS post is what he said his Mom said about Mike’s birth.

Apparently, she was watching “Monsieur Hulot's Holiday” in the theater & she laughed so hard at what was going on in the film, she went into labor with him.

I had to look that film up once I read that passage because it sounded familiar. Or rather the character’s name did. Because it turns out to be the first film (out of 4) that features the character of Monsieur Hulot (played by the director of all the films, Jacques Tati).

The 2nd film turned out to be “Mon Oncle,” which I’ve seen before, although mostly in college dorm rooms thanks to THIS poster:

But I’ve never seen “Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday.” And I regret that, considering how goofy the trailer is.

You bet your ass I’m about to rectify that regret ASAMFP. Looks like it MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT be on Netflix (??).

Okay, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. Because like everything, I’ll probably end up owning it.

And since it’s Criterion, I’ll probably go all-in for the box set.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 134: Doomed from the Start Patrol???

I already regret the queasy, uneasy feeling I’m getting in the pit of my stomach surrounding this recent announcement:

That’s right. A 13-episode live-action series about DC Comics’ Doom Patrol has just been ordered, based on the yet-to-be-released Titans series.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m actually a fan of some of the other Greg Berlanti series:

Not ALL of them, but some. And you know what? That’s enough for me. The strides this dude’s made with these DC characters is fucking phenomenal. 

Thanks to HIM, we got a live-action JSA for Christ’s sake.

That’s a MASSIVE achievement in my book. And yeah, some of the writing is a little hacky & tweenish.

But as a geek, I’ve been happy with what we’ve gotten from the good, old CW.

I mean, this is still DC we’re talking about. As a DC fan, I’m used to NOT getting my hopes up. Because in this universe, if you get too nit-picky, you get butt-hurt. 

I’m sure (like me) every DC fan on the planet is appreciative of the baby steps the TV series seem to be taking.

Because otherwise, we get served THIS:

But I digress.

Admittedly, I was a late-bloomer when it came to Doom Patrol. I only discovered Grant Morrison’s wonderfully twisted run a few years ago.

It’s like reading a comic on acid. With a peyote chaser. 

Morrison’s run put a serious zap on my head & made me rethink EVERYTHING I thought I knew about comics. A serious exercise in the untethered potential of storytelling in this medium.

I’ve even been collecting Gerard Way’s recent run.

And let me tell you something: it does NOT disappoint. Mainly because it does exactly what a revamp of a series does: provides an easy gateway for people who never read the original, while giving subtle winks to those who have. 

All that said, I regret the trepidation I’m feeling toward Berlanti’s upcoming series.

Sure, I want it. More than ANYTHING.

And yet, I’m worried that any patina or edge will be stripped or smoothed away. Which I’m sure will happen, since I hear Berlanti’s sticking to the original team, 

rather than the effed-up 90′s shit I love.

I guess I’m too close to Morrison’s source material. 

Well, maybe it’ll be fine. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing.

'Cause if they do it right & go all Legion on this series, it could be fucking EPIC.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 208: CROSS-FI-YUHHHH

So, we’ve been presenting some creative for a hospital lately. And the hospital’s agency of record has a name that’s REALLY close to the name of this game from the 80′s:

And now “CROSS-FI-YUHHHHH” is stuck in my head. But I don’t regret that. Hell, the slappy synth bass alone on this thing makes me INCREDIBLY happy. 

I essentially regret that I never owned this game as a kid.

A friend of mine did. I think we played it about 5 times during our entire friendship. And I sort of regret that we didn’t play it more. 

But like a lot of games that you don’t own, YOUR excitement is basically a boner-killer for the person who does own it. For instance, I used to sleep over at another friend’s place. A pair of brothers, who’d just gotten THIS the previous Xmas.

The entire weekend I was over, I’d pop out of bed around 4:30 am & play TimePilot. 

So fucking cool.

Well, eventually their mom got pissed that I was waking people up with all the noise, having just discovered after about 6 hours of playing the Smurf game that it was fucking horrible/unbeatable.

Well, it was that AND the fact that I was equally addicted to THIS piece of shit show for reasons that had NOTHING to do with Plastic Man:

Okay, so I’m getting off-topic. Back to the subject at hand.

“CROSS-FI-YUHHHHH!”

I also regret that I didn’t know that this obsessive game actually had a predecessor. 

Just look at those cool, fucking graphics.

But mostly I regret that even if I WANTED to play Crossfire today, I couldn’t afford to do so.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 146: Blood, Sweat & Jeers

This all started with a Google search for Tina Louise.

After yesterday’s regret about John Banner, I got to thinking about half-assed albums like THIS:

That’s how I came across Tina’s album,

which was released in her pre-Gilligan’s Island days.

Well, after finding a few songs from “It’s Time For Tina” on YouTube, THIS shit popped up as a suggestion:

Holy F.

Part of me regrets watching it. Part of me is glad I experienced it.

I mean, as hokey as the choreography might seem,

this clearly took a LOT of work to pull off.

And to its credit, the orchestral arrangement alone is complex as shit. There’s a moment at the 1:41 mark that eclipses the entire song in terms of coolness.

But all in all, it’s a testament to every parody that came after it,

basically making it a parody of itself in the process.

And after watching Sammy Davis Jr’s version of it, I kind of regret how obvious it is that he never realized how much of a parody HIS version truly was:

Even though he spent the latter part of his career being a human parody of the entertainment industry, 

whether that was intentional or not.  

[regretadayagain]

DAY 145: Banner the Unstoppable Nazi Sex Machine

Listen, I don’t watch “Hogan’s Heroes.

Because, you know, Nazis aren’t funny. 

But some people think they ARE, I guess. Take MeTV, for instance.

They’ve got NO problem with this premise. 

That’s not a slam on MeTV. I like about 80% of what they show. Just not shit like THIS.

Whatever. 

The point is, they’ve been airing a commercial with Sgt. Schultz lately, saying his trademark catchphrase:

And while watching it for, like, the 10th time during an episode of WKRP, I made an off-handed remark like, “There’s actually a woman somewhere out there who actually let Sgt. Schultz plop on top of her & shove his tiny dick in & out.”

Even though I was trying to be funny (although not very), the idea of this interaction got me thinking. This statement, as crass as it is, was most likely 100% true. 

They say there’s someone for everybody in this world, so why not Schultz?

So, I looked him up & sure enough, John Banner (the actor who portrayed Sgt. Schultz on “Hogan’s Heroes”) was married not once, but TWICE.

Does that mean he was a nonstop, hardcore dicking factory? Not really. Does that mean he probably had sex with at least 1 of his 2 wives? Definitely. 

And after all that exhaustive research on John Banner, I found myself regretting the amount of time I spent thinking about a chubby character actor I don’t give a fuck about from a show I don’t give a fuck about.

I also regret watching 5 minutes of a film that he & a few other “Hogan’s Heroes” actors actually starred in that might as well have been a modern-day “Hogan’s Heroes.”

I also regret finding out that there’s a “Hogan’s Heroes” album out there, where the cast sings songs from WWII.

AND I regret that I kind of want to hear all of it, even though I listened to “Nightingale Sang In Berkley Square” & it was just as shitty as I expected.

Finally, I regret that 2 actors from one of my biggest guilty pleasures, “Gilligan’s Island,” were contractually obligated to do a half-assed intro to a promotional kickoff for “Hogan’s Heroes” in 1965.

It’s about as bad as any new season promos you’ve ever seen.

Oh, Bob. Oh, Alan.

This whole thing feels like there was either a lot of money or a lot of waterboarding going on. 

[regretadayagain]

DAY 144: Scarrrrrry

Man, 1986 was a weird time for music.

Yes, that’s “Weird Al” Yankovic & La Toya Jackson on the American Music Awards. And THAT, my friends, was the freaky deaky that was all throughout music at that time.

Like the first half of the 80′s before it, 1986 was experimenting & trying to forecast what music could possibly sound like in, say, the far-flung 1990′s.

But shit, we were 4 years from that decade at that point. And we all know that in music, that might as well have been 1,000 light years away.

Anyway, here’s what the Billboard landscape looked like at the end of 1986, the top 20 singles of that year:

Yep, there’s a lot of “love” going on. A few songs about “friends.” And then there’s Eddie Murphy with Rick James for some reason.

Hail Satan indeed.

And you had even MORE varied shit if you bought some “greatest hits of 1986″ compilation from Billboard.

Some repeats, some new shit from old bands, some last gasps of the early 80′s. 

And then there’s the guitarist from Genesis, trying to steal Phil Collins’ solo spotlight.

Oh, and the guy from Squeeze, looking all tough/drunk/nauseous/all three:

Looks like SOMEBODY’S got a dirty diaper.

Okay, there’s actually a point here. One of my favorite bands was doing a little experimenting during ‘86.

THESE kimono-wearing prog wizards

had just released THIS:

If fans thought their previous album, “Signals,” was a fun, little synth-driven departure,

they got even MORE synthy cockslaps with "Grace Under Pressure.”

C’mon, Geddy. Isn’t bass enough?

Truth be told, I actually liked “Grace” when it came out, as well as its follow-up:

What can I say? It was the mid 80′s.  Yeah, that’s it. I blame the 80′s.

Anyhoo, these synth-driven albums were my gateway drug to a lifelong addiction to early (I’m implying BETTER here) Rush.

Lip gloss, kimonos & all.

And yet, I still feel a weird kinship toward those mid-late 80′s sounds. And that’s why I regret that I haven’t seen THIS until now.

Yeah, that’s SCTV’s Count Floyd doing the intro. And Rush acting goofy as shit, reacting to him.

It proves that these 3 Canucks, who stunned the world with Ayn Rand lyrics & polyrhythmic jams are just a trio of fun-loving knuckleheads. Something I didn’t think when I first got into them. 

And I guess I regret not knowing that they can sometimes give the makeup people from SCTV a run for their money.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 211: This is 1981

This was essentially my ongoing playlist in 1981:

These 8 albums shaped me as pre-teen. And as much as I regret that my interests didn’t veer off into any of THESE territories during that particular year,

I’m cutting myself some slack. Because 11-year-olds aren’t that cool.

They’re just not.

No matter how cool you think your 11-year-old son/daughter/niece/nephew is, I guarantee that their musical tastes are flavor-of-the-month.

And yeah, you could argue that cooler music is more accessible now, so maybe they ARE listening to cool shit. 

But probably not. 

And I’m not talking about shit that YOU as an old person introduced to them. Because that just solidifies my point. If it weren’t for THESE nutty, groundbreaking, genre-shaping albums (& subsequent albums released years after) from back in the day, 

your son/daughter/niece/nephew wouldn’t have access to cool shit today.

My point is, 11-year-olds aren’t rock tastemakers.

But that’s not the ultimate point to today’s post. 

Another staple of my 1981 rock diet was THIS album:

"The Stroke” seemed to be blasting from every direction: boomboxes, car radios, roller rinks, fast food joints, you name it. 

Who was I to resist?

The thing is, I never actually owned this whole album. My best friend Tim Crutchfield did. 

He’s also the person who gave me a vinyl copy of THIS album at my 11th birthday party,

which got immediately shuffled into my ongoing 1981 playlist. In fact, if it wasn’t for Tim, none of these albums would’ve made much of a dent on me:

He was HUGE fan of Rush, Genesis, Journey, ALL that shit already. So, huge props to Tim Crutchfield for creating this monster.

Anyhoo, he owned EVERYTHING Billy Squier put out. And once “The Stroke” became part of 1981′s consciousness, it only validated Tim’s ability to manipulate the rock zeitgeist. 

But these were days before I was really aware of THIS band:

Yet another group I can thank Tim Crutchfield for introducing me to. (In fact, he let me “tape” THIS mammoth, career-spanning fucker after it came out:)

So, what do Billy Squier & Led Zep have in common?

Listen to Squier’s “Lonely Is The Night”: 

Now listen to Zeppelin’s “Nobody’s Fault But Mine”:

And that’s just ONE example throughout his catalog. 

Hell, “Don’t Say No” is FILLED with Zeppelin riffs, not to mention the fact that Squier REALLY sounds like he’s doing a Robert Plant impression.

This isn’t some new revelation. People have probably been saying it for years. In regards to “Lonely Is The Night,”

but whatever.

My regret is that I can’t decide if I CARE or actually DON’T care. If I cared about this, would I have to stop listening to Tom Waits because of his nearly spot-on Captain Beefheart impression that he’s been cultivating for years?

Probably not.

I’ve been listening to Squier since 1981 & I suppose it hasn’t caused the universe to fold in on itself yet, so fuck it, right?

[regretadayagain]

DAY 88: Lowering the Barr

I’ll admit it. I watched & actually ENJOYED the one-hour, two-episode premiere of “Roseanne” season 10.

I didn’t read the New York Times interview with the REAL Roseanne until afterwards.

Needless to say, I was more than a little shocked. 

Because we’re talking about a woman who went from being a housewife writing jokes around the house (while killing herself raising kids) to being a successful-out-of-the-gate comedian 

to being a TV star, where she was constantly fighting for creative control of a show based on HER stand-up/life.

A headstrong woman, who, regardless of her middle class status, touted herself as a “domestic goddess.” 

Someone who seemingly took NO GUFF from any man, both on the show & off.

She creatively spearheaded a show that not only broke boundaries with episodes focusing on LBGTQ characters in an era when you “just didn’t do that on TV,”

she kept it consistently funny for more than half of its initial run, IMHO.

That’s why it’s pretty much my go-to thing to watch every weekend when it’s on Logo or TV Land. 

Because of the unrivaled strength of its creative direction & its phenomenal writing. 

Also, yes, Joss Whedon cut his teeth on this show. His episodes are some of the best ones they ever produced. 

Personally, I can’t hold back tears while watching this scene from his “Brain-Dead Poet’s Society” episode. 

Darlene’s being forced to read a poem she wrote, which she doesn’t want to because she’s always been considered a “tomboy.” 

And then you find out why. It completely destroys any preconceived notions you might have about sitcoms of the time or child actors. 

It’s chilling every damn time.

Another example of this series’ amazing writing is on the “An Officer & A Gentleman” episode.

It’s a simple scene, full of humor, truth & depth of character. It doesn’t even have Roseanne in it.

And best of all, the writing & acting shines through because you don’t have to know the show AT ALL to acknowledge how amazing it is.

Another slightly teary-eyed moment for me towards the end, BTW.

Now, I realize that this sounds like I’m building a case for the defense. 

Like I’m trying to build a solid foundation so I can easily side with season 10, regardless of what we’ve learned about Roseanne Barr’s politics. 

All told, I don’t actually side with the REAL Roseanne. But I don’t believe I have to in order to enjoy the show.

Even when the original series was airing she was courting controversy. 

Does that mean that her support of Trump is worse than her screeching rendition of the National Anthem? 

That’s apples & oranges obviously. But to me, it’s in the same *ahem* ballpark.

More to the point, if you believe that watching season 10 of “Roseanne” is tantamount to supporting Trump’s “wall” or ANY of his dunderheaded tweets,

that’s TOTALLY fair. 

But I regret to inform you that - even though I identify strongly as a Liberal - I’m still watching this show. 

Because regardless of the fact that THIS happened,

the original show has EARNED this 180-degree turn. I truly feel that this is the natural trajectory this lower-middle class family was bound to go, whether you agree with the politics on/offscreen or not.

And more importantly, the writing is STILL rock-fucking solid. 

In the first 2 episodes alone, neither side - Republican nor Democrat - were getting off scot-free.

It’s the first non-news show (parody or otherwise) I’ve seen in, well, EVER that’s tackled both sides with such gusto. 

There was also a plot point that involved Darlene’s kid, Mark, who didn’t identify as a girl, but enjoyed dressing like one.

The resulting effect this had on a pro-Trump family WASN’T what you’d expect, especially now that we all know the REAL Roseanne is pro-Trump. 

But the fact that this episode made it to air means that the REAL Roseanne wasn’t so close-minded that she felt like this story had no resonance. 

(Seriously, it was so Left-leaning that it’s obvious that Trump didn’t watch it.)

Lastly, I’m not saying you’re wrong for not watching it if you believe that doing so supports the current regime we’re in. Again, TOTALLY fair. 

What I AM saying is that I’m watching it because I’ve invested a lot of time in this series over the years. 

I cherish it. 

And until it does something to betray that, I’ll continue to tune in.

Because I truly believe the writing & message supersedes the extraneous. 

I also believe that having an openly gay executive producer/actor within its ranks might actually keep the show honest.

So, bring it, haters. 

Just know that I see your side.  I actually AM your side. But I’ll raise you. 

Regardless of your hatred for one side, give something like this a shot before calling bullshit on it.

Thank you for reading this.

[regretadayagain]

DAY 168: Colin Firth, Corpse Humper

So, I saw THIS over the weekend:

Non-spoiler review: IT TOPPED THE FIRST ONE FOR ME.

But that’s a tall order, considering I put “The Incredibles” as my top Pixar flick. Sure, I loved the “Toy Story” films, as well as “Monsters, Inc.” But I’ve intentionally held out on all the other Pixar movies. 

And I’m fine with that. 

This isn’t some passive-aggressive way of getting somebody to sway me into watching, say, “Inside Out” or any of the “Cars”/“Finding Nemo” flicks. 

No, seriously, I’m actually good with holding out 14 years for the best franchise in Pixar’s library. 

Just my 2¢, of course. But that’s not what I’m about to knock around here today. 

First off, I regret that I figured out who the villain was early on.

The good thing is, it doesn’t matter if you do. Because the rest of the film is so balls-to-the-wall action-packed & badass, you won’t care. 

I should also mention that this is coming from a dude who never figures out the twist in movies. Like NEVER. I’m talking in ANY film. 

Hell, I didn’t even know about that whole necrophilia subplot with Colin Firth in “Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again.” 

I mean, it’s ABBA. Of COURSE it’s got a sex-with-dead-people angle.

Okay, enough Firth bashing. Onto the final regret.

So, during my particular screening, I was stuck in front of an annoying gaggle of tweens, who were more concerned with how funny it was to “shhhhhh” each other rather than actually watch the film.

And before you say anything, I’m about to beat you to the punch: yes, I AM an old fart in a movie theater getting pissed at pre-pubescents who: 

A) were just having a good time  B) weren’t even alive when the first one came out

But ultimately, this only has to do with them peripherally. 

I’m talking about the overall tone of this flick. Like the first one, let’s just say it’s mostly geared toward adults. I mean, sure, there are specific moments for kids, like all the Jack Jack bits,

all of which are wonderful, BTW. 

But whereas it’s got more action than the first one, tonally, it’s the same monster: nice pauses & beats that make it feel like something MORE than some anthropomorphic Pixar film.

Which is why I regret that there aren’t “Kids-Only Screenings” & “Grown-Ups-Only Screenings” for films like this. (Notice I didn’t say, “Adults-Only” in order to avoid pervy connotations.)

I don’t know. Maybe there ARE in some cities. That way, the kids can be in one screening & the adults can be in the other. Anyway, in the case of “The Incredibles 2,” it would’ve been better for me.

Signed, Cranky, Old, Clearly-Should-Let-This-Go Fart

So, go out there & enjoy “Incredibles 2,” err’body. And if you’re a tween, I have just one word of advice for you: 

[regretadayagain]

DAY 182: Sailor Meow

I regret seeing THIS

because it proves that my sad attempts at forcing my cat to cosplay 

are seriously half-assed.