Friday at the Con

Behold, many costumed characters! And this was taken at San Diego City Hall. The convention was much stranger, filled with wonder and the power of imagination plus large, billowy men who hadn't seen the sun since the last days of dial-up modems. I ran into Stan, an old Batman and Batman Beyond writer as well as catching a glimpse of Bruce Timm. MDW bumped into a sci-fi and fantasy author friend. At my agency's posh annual party, I saw an executive I know from Cartoon Network, an agent, the owner of our agency, and the guy serving Thai egg rolls. Overall, a brief, but festive, adventure.

Pre-Post on Comic Con

One of my favorite comics from childhood. I hadn't read a copy of "Cameras are Filming" in many years so you can imagine the nostalgia that washed over me like a big storm surge. My wife wanted to buy a large pretzel and rest, but I couldn't be torn from this relic of my past. In the end, MDW snapped a photo so that I might stare at it, recalling all the thrills and excitement that were mine every month as I raced to the drug store to purchase the latest "Cameras are Filming." They say there's a movie deal in the works, but I hope not. They'll soil what is pure.

Pre-Comic Con

Started my latest story for Esquire's fiction contest. Sadly, I will not have marinating time like I did on "Bane Fish," but I think I know where the story leads.

Knee is swollen from aqua running and the gym. Too much, too soon. I start physical therapy next week. Let's see what these learned folks think.

Off to Comic Con on Friday. I'll look up a few people, stop by my agency's annual party, and return via exotic desert by-ways, passing factory outlets and Indian casinos broiling in the July sun.

Now to barbecue!

Delightful News from Prose, TV Animation Front

Writers bask in the following words from a story editor: "Notes were light. I'll do 'em. Go ahead and invoice." Such basking was my lot today.

An old joke goes like this: an actor comes home to find his house on fire and his family murdered. A neighbor tells him that the actor's agent drove up, went nuts, torched the place and shot the family. The actor stared in disbelief: "My agent...actually came to my house?" 

Well, my agent called from New York to say she really enjoyed the short story "Bane Fish," but didn't have a place for it. I'd already sent it off to an anthology, but thanked her none the less for complimentary news. When she's not dealing, my agent is reading stuff to deal, or stuff that has been dealt, so it's hard to get ahead of her. But "Bane Fish" did. Thanks once again to Takineko, Keeper, Katie, and Ernesto, among others, for helping out. I'm working on another short story for a contest at Esquire, and a third for an anthology with a September 1 deadline. Never enough hours in the day when you're under employed. 

1969 Thoughts

A pair of generations ago... on July 18, 1969 Ted Kennedy left a party with a young woman, crashed his car into a river, went home with woman and car still submerged, and didn't call the cops until the next day. The woman drowned. Ted, though ill, is still a U.S. Senator and never saw the inside of a jail except on Lockup. It pays to be rich.

There was no room in yesterday's Cronkite post, but to give you some idea of Vietnam's savagery: starting at the Tet Offensive in January 1968 and continuing until October 1969, the United States lost at least 500 men killed a week. The South Vietnamese, who were often rightly disparaged as weak, corrupt and ineffective, always lost more. The North Vietnamese and Viet Cong topped even that.

Last year's moon post summoned it up well.

Cronkite, Vietnam and South Park

At the last Cable Ace award ceremony ever held, Paul Rugg and I encountered Walter Cronkite in the Men's Room. We passed within a yard of the famed newsman as he told a joke about a nun. We were on the move and missed the punch line, but, hey, that was Walter Cronkite!

In any case, Walter was really wrong about the whole Tet Offensive business.

On the Vietnamese Lunar Holiday (Tet) in January 1968 - after months of good news war stories, buffed to a mirror-like shine by the Johnson administration - the Viet Cong launched country-wide attacks throughout South Vietnam. (My cousin Danny landed in bullet-riddled Saigon the second day of the assaults. As ranking naval officer on his flight, he had to deliver orders to a headquarters across the city from the airport, negotiating his way past street fighting and wondering how the rest of his 365 days would shape up.) In any case, there was a sense by the American media that the U.S. was involved in a stalemate. After a trip to South Vietnam, Walter gave a famous speech in which he said our only way out was to negotiate.

As it turns out, the enemy was guilty of pumping sunshine up their army's ass. Viet Cong troops were told they'd be welcomed by a grateful population, the South Vietnamese army would crack like a fortune cookie, and the Americans would be chased to their big coastal bases where they'd drink beer and grumble. Instead, elite Viet Cong cadre attacked and were chewed up by U.S. firepower. The population played it cagey and the South Vietnamese army fought. The Viet Cong were demoralized and, except locally, never a nation-wide factor again. North Vietnam shouldered the brunt of the war. (After they finally won in 1975, the North Vietnamese refused to allow any Viet Cong units to march in the victory parade. A cynic might think the VC were set up to be decimated.)

In any case, Walter Cronkite got a little jumpy and traded on his good name to make policy pronouncements. Maybe he should've waited to see how the fighting shook out, instead of punching his own team in the neck during a tough go.

As to the 1997 Cable Ace awards, that night, Freakazoid lost out to some trendy, limited animation thing called South Park. Paul and I laughed. How long would that show last?

Half-Blood Prince: Middle Movie

The Empire Strikes Back and the The Two Towers are examples of middle-movies: part two of a three-part film series noted for unresolved endings and a two-year wait for the conclusion. 'Half-Blood' had that feel, even though it's woven into a much longer arc. Other Potter films managed to wrap up an immediate story, while teasing the inevitable battle between Harry and Voldemort. However 'Half Blood' had no extra wrapping for a neat ending. The only alternative was a nine-hour film. (People around us in the theater wouldn't have minded.) Nevertheless, as a Harry Potter fan, I enjoyed it. I especially admired the Weasley twins who drop out of school, launch their own business, and prosper in dark times, having a few laughs along the way. They reminded me of my friend, restaurant and theater owner, Tim O'Connor, except the Weasley's get Christmas off.

Visiting Mr. Potter

Off to see Harry Potter this afternoon. I always thought a good story would involve Ron, Hermione, and Old Man Potter from It's a Wonderful Life. ("Say, that Hogwarts place would make a fine subdivision. Might have to poison those weird animals; drag their bodies into the lake. No one has to know. How 'bout it, kids?") Instead of a positive leader and friend, Old Man Potter would serve as a daily moral test. Wearing his Hogwarts uniform, riding around in a wheelchair - placing a broom under the wheelchair so he could cheat at Quidditch - Old Man Potter might prove more than a match for Voldemort and a thorny pest for Dumbledore. ("We could sell that sorting hat to a carnival; make a lot of dough. You only use it once a year. Keep it?!! Why that's a load of sentimental hogwash.")

Watch for Old Man Potter and the Magic Slum, coming soon somewhere.

Twilight Time

Netflix delivered the vampire film Twilight. I didn't even order it. A DVD showed up in my mailbox with a hand-written letter that said, "Don't cry, weakling." I'm not even sure what that means. But right now I'm wondering if the mailman might be responsible: given me a neighbor's movie and added that note. Mailman or psycho at Netflix? How to respond? Could there be a clue in the film? Is there a scene where a post man fights off a yappy dog, but fails to spot the vampire teenager that turns him into the undead? How am I responsible? More research is needed.

Baby, We Were Born to Use the Elliptical

That's my exercise world for the next two and a half months, along with swimming and various other non-running actions. As the leg mends and the new cartilage adjusts to knee life, I'm glad things have progressed so well and that no mistaken amputations or unauthorized organ harvesting have occurred - at least to me.

What's Up, Doc?

I've been waiting a few days to say that. My Monday appointment was scratched because the doctor drank too much at a "medical convention" and missed his flight. That's not true, but made better reading than "his flight was cancelled." Tomorrow morning I shall learn what exercises are permitted with the knee. I've been aqua running a few times and all has gone well. But a little more cardio is in order.

A friend and I are going to write a Da Vinci Code parody. I've been working through the book taking notes and am highly encouraged. Dan Brown's writing is really dry, garnished with cliches and, yet, over 40 million copies were sold. (One of them to me.) Possibly we can write something half as long, twice as bad, and sell 20 million copies. In any case, I'm spending money as if I'd already received the advance. That's known as unwarranted positive thinking. I believe it's the cornerstone of our nation's financial planning.

Webless Sunday

Yesterday, for the first time in a long while, I stayed off the Web. I actually got fidgety, like when I quit smoking. As my time online has increased over the last few years, I've found my attention span decreasing. I read fewer and fewer books and they tend to be short ones.

As my old t'ai chi instructor might've said: "You are unbalanced. You are also late with this month's payment. Be balanced. Write me a check. Or I'll kick your yang into the next time zone."

Birth of Acme Comedy Theatre

Bob Petrella reminded me that today (a Tuesday?) back in 1989, M.D. Sweeney held the first class for what-was-to-become the Acme Comedy Players. Present were Bob and myself, Sherri Stoner, Ken Segall, Jim Wickline, and possibly a few others from our days at the L.A. Connection. We worked out of a small theater on Tujunga Ave. in Studio City, just down the block from the restaurant where, in later years, Robert Blake shot his wife. (We hadn't much money so we never ate there. They could've shot a celebrity wife every week and we'd still be dining at 7-11.) Months passed as we worked on basic improvisational comedy, added a few more cast members (including Adam Carolla), and, that fall, commenced working on written sketches as Sweeney wanted us performing live shows beginning in early spring 1990. (Bob will know the date.)

My life was better in people and events from attending that wee improv group. Happy Birthday, Acme!

Nature of the Enemy

Soldiers in Afghanistan say the real enemy is the camel spider. These things are fast and like to fasten on the bellies of camels and goats - or the leg of a sleeping trooper. After numbing the area, the spiders feast and the victim doesn't feel a thing. Men in Colin's outfit packed rat traps to kill any that might wander around their position. Just another unsung military occupational hazard.

h/t: spiner507

Randy Beaman's Cool Army Stuff

Colin Wells and the Strykers will be hauling lots of high-tech gear into the field. Twenty-three years ago when Aliens released, the film depicted Space Marines equipped with fascinating gear-of-the-future. Now, we've surpassed them as our troops can enter battle and simultaneously watch Seinfeld reruns. "Kick ass and multi-task," the 21st century warrior's cry.

Why My Knee is Injured

My old home and neighborhood really gave my knee a work-out. There were stairs all over the place plus the yard was steeply graded. If I went for a walk or run around the block, I negotiated steep hills. No wonder I'm injured.

Marathon running only occupied the last three and a half years - with months off for an inflamed tendon, broken fifth metatarsal, and torn calf muscle. 

What does this mean? I blame my house and neighborhood. No lawsuits, but I'm starting a whispering campaign that they're intolerant of knees. Well, mine, anyway.

Almost 4:00 PM and Still No Jackson Coverage

For me. I just don't get it. Elvis didn't swing this kind of media saturation and neither did John Lennon. Both were higher up the music food chain than Michael Jackson. This was a very troubled man. Pills spilled out of his tummy at the autopsy. (Not that Elvis couldn't swallow a pharmacy in his day.) He built a pretend village and used real people as set dressing. He had sleep overs with little boys and employed a porn director as personal videographer. Yeah, he could sing and dance and was a huge hit back in the early Reagan years. R.I.P.

Let's leave air time for a good police chase, or hill fire or invasion by Nazi dinosaurs.

Rewrite

A long one today on my paying gig. Certainly this rewrite was more akin to assembling IKEA furniture—a meticulous following of directions. But now it's finished and in and I can relax, perhaps with Tropic Thunder.

Running News

Congratulations to Emil for another successful marathon. My running life consists of reading Emil's race reports and thinking of better times ahead. Kiley battles a twisted ankle preparing for another 50-miler — in addition to coaching the San Gabriel Valley TNT fall marathon team. A determined man, Kiley will defeat injury, race like a champ, get all his team across the finish line, while composing light opera and inventing a device that knows when you want pizza and calls ahead. He's that versatile. Yesterday, I aqua ran for thirty-five minutes, taking it easy. I actually felt stiffness in my legs this morning. From aqua running, of all things! But that's the closest I'll get to real running for at least three months. Back to work, complaining about my neighbor's party last night where they cooked steaks, meaty scent drifting all over the building, and didn't invite us. Tonight we're barbecuing a bicycle tire and inviting them. If they can't make it, we'll leave "dinner" by their front door. Chow.

Go Strykers!

A happy 4th of July to the 5th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, Stryker Brigade, 4th Battalion, (23 Infantry Regiment), known as the Tomahawks.

What does all this Army jabbery talk mean?

Let's start with Strykers. Strykers are a relatively new Infantry Carrier Vehicle (ICV) with eight-wheels and more firepower than a South Central LA gang. The Tomahawks ride them into battle. After the troops dismount and deploy, the ICVs provide fire support as the unit manuvers. One of those manuvering will be machine gunner Colin Wells, son of Deanna Oliver, an old Anamaniacs chum.

At 27, Colin is the "old man" of his unit. Deanna used to plunk him down in her office at Warner Brothers where he'd do his homework. He sat with us at our first Emmy Award dinner. (The one in 1994 where the wrong episodes were delivered for consideration.) Colin and his comrades will be in Afghanistan this month, fighting alongside the Marines near the Pakistan border.

So to Colin and the Strykers, thank you for your sacrifice so that I may sleep late, and barbecue and complain about the animation industry and my loud neighbors. Because you choose to give up your freedom and face danger, I have mine. Thank you very much.

I still think we were robbed in '94.

Farewell, Karl Malden

Tom Ruegger sent around more vulture pics and another celebrity passed on.

I really liked Karl Malden in Nevada Smith. He played a ruthless crook who supervised the skinning of Steve McQueen's mom. (Not for real, that was Lee J. Cobb. The legal case drags on.) McQueen hunts Malden all over the west, becoming as callous and hardened as his prey. Malden knows he's being stalked and grows paranoid and jittery, unable to stand the strain of impending retribution. Malden's pleading taunt of "yer yellow, ya haven't got the guts," became a high school catch-phrase we'd fling at each other as a way of pushing someone to do something that would get him in trouble. It usually worked. (SPOILER ALERT!! plus SCANDINAVIAN SUBTITLE ALERT!!)

ht/: frank5400

Exit Jacko

Jacko, we hardly knew ye. Actually, we knew ye all too well. Especially after four-wall coverage by the MSM, bumped cap-and-trade, Iranian demonstrators and other boring non-celebrity stuff from the public eye. As CBS William S. Paley once remarked, "Revolutions come and go, but file footage costs nothing."

PODM wraps it up nicely.

Tom Ruegger and the Vulture Project

Awoke this morning and shuffled to the kitchen minus crutches, moving at the pace of a very healthy 106-year-old. I look forward to greater adventures in the days to come.

Worked all last week on my animated script, then jumped into editing the short story. I finished Monday night, sending it out at almost 8k words. That comes out to 43 pages in New Courier font. A very exhausting process as I had to expand, add clarifying information and erase material simultaneously to stay under the word limit. Once again, a big thanks to the readers. An altered ending proved, I think, more satisfying and truer to what had been set-up. Electronic high-fives to all.

Which led me to yesterday morning. Paul Rugg, Sherri Stoner, Deanna Oliver, Tom Ruegger and myself gathered at a local studio for vulture recordings. Forging a long improvised story proved challenging, but Tom hauled us forward to a resolution. He seemed quite happy with the day's catch, and I have no reason to doubt we hooked more than we released. I felt weary and torpid the whole session. More sleep should improve my perspective. Meanwhile, Tom will add a lick of animatic and a dash of music to today's work and produce something to shop around.

And the studio was free of bees. I really liked that.

Hospital Cafe

While it appears I'm in a hospital, this is actually a station at the Hospital Cafe, a Hollywood eatery that aims to simulate a medical dining experience. You lie in bed with an IV pumping you full of drugs, and eat Jello-o and dried chicken while watching Hawaii 5-0 reruns. Ginger ale is served in a short plastic cup. For an additional fee, your waitress-practitioner will speak English, though at the level of a Saigon bar girl. ("You likee pillow, G.I.?") Actual minor surgery is available, but must be booked in advance as the doctors fly up from Trinidad. You leave the Hospital Cafe drained in fluids and cash, but ultimately feeling less than when you entered. The Hospital Cafe. Institutional food at a Five Star price.

Farewell to Bees

Sometimes I think of the house I sold last year, home to us for twelve years - longer than anywhere I'd ever lived. I miss watching the San Gabriel Mountains, especially at dusk, as the sun flung out massive shadows, burning a bright red as it dipped into the Pacific.

But I don't miss the stinking bees. (Or rabbits, or coyotes, but they have their separate tales.)

The bees didn't actually smell as in insects that stung and stunk up the place. But this time of year they'd swarm, and a swarm would descend on my house, and it would cost a hundred bucks to de-bee. Scouts arrived first, whistling, six hands in their pockets, pretending to pollinate a flower, but really casing the place. Next day I'd hear a loud buzzing from under the house or under an eave and once inside a gardening box on the balcony, indicating they'd successfully immigrated. You've heard the expression, "Busy as a bee?"Well they are brutally industrious. First they build a comb for the queen. If unmolested,  that modest little comb cottage will become a bee high-rise. After one of my Southeast Asia journeys, I returned after three weeks to find a massive bee sub-division. The structure they'd built on the underside of my split level was intricate and astounding, and heavy with honey. Even the exterminator was impressed, admitting later he'd used up all the poison in his canister just to whack this one mega colony. Stuck with clean-up, I had to climb a tall ladder and knock down the sub-division with a rake, ducking chunks of honey-filled wax dropping past my head to splat on the dirt.  This new mess had to be policed at once because various animals would be drawn to the scent of honey and die from bee poison. Hollywood is so much like that and it thrives on buzz. 

Anyway, today I finished my animated script, sent it in, invoiced and napped, and didn't have to bee wrangle. That's got me feeling pretty darn good. 

NOTE: I tried explaining all the above to the new owner, but he and his wife laughed merrily. "We love bees. My father wants to put a hive in the backyard." Clearly, this was a man who fancied bees, in a family of bee fanciers. I hope they still do.  

Another Ruegger Vulture Pic

Three vulture posts and three dead celebs over the last week: Ed, Farrah, Michael.

Those three in a road picture...

It would've been something.

Ruegger Vultures

More vultures from Tom Ruegger, who drew upon extensive meetings with mid-level animation executives.

Ruegger and the Scavengers

Vulture art from Tom Ruegger as Paul Rugg, Sherri Stoner, Deanna Oliver and I gear up to improv voices for vultures such as this one next week. Tom will then take the tracks and see what sort of animated mirth he can rustle up.

Still racing forward with the animation script, but I should make my Friday deadline. Also, thanks to the readers who got material back early. Big darn help seeing things from another perspective, plus good catches on the proofreading. Away with me now!

Confused by Success

Rushing to finish my animated script, and collate short story notes, by Friday. A check arrived for an outline last week. I hadn't seen a check in so long, I grew confused and called the Bomb Squad. Alas, they'd been laid off, but the city sent over a homeless man with a long bamboo pole. He poked the envelope, pronouncing it safe. I tipped him with a jelly glass of wine and a blueberry Nutri-Grain bar. Everyone left happy and how often does that happen dealing with the government?

Rock the Vote

Fun in Iran with this round going to the demonstrators. For about the first minute, it's a game of rock toss between demonstrators and Mullah Cops. But the crowd laps forward, then surges big time.

h/t: BBC Farsi Page via Ace of Spades.

Happy Father's Day!

Way to go, Dads! Youth and experience belong to the kids, but fathers possess cunning and hard-earned wisdom. As the philosopher Lao Ming once said, "The wise owl is the owl with a mouth full of mice, while the father with a mouth full of mice is often subdued by authorities."

Death of a Quasi-Famous Grandmother

Back from Pismo Beach (between Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo.) attending my wife's grandma's funeral service. Virginia reached 98,  once debating Richard Nixon as a sophomore at Whittier High School in, say, 1927? She claimed to have lost a close decision and nursed a grudge against the future president for many decades. Recently declassified White House documents indicate Virginia had, indeed, been robbed as Nixon paid another student to plant evidence with the principal that Virginia was insane. This effected the final tally, throwing the debate Nixon's way and convincing him that winning was more fun than high school.

 In any case, God bless Virginia. She outlived Nixon by fifteen years and certainly got her money's worth from this life. 

As a Matter of Fact...

A few remarks on Froynlaven's post: the films we viewed were ZONTAR The Thing from Venus and a Japanese horror movie with aliens and a city-busting monster that got bombed more than Berlin. (That's Irving Berlin, legendary song-writer and ferocious tippler. But more on that later.)

Paul was laid off from a dating show writing gig at CBS. I was working for a company called Mac Temps. They sent me out on day jobs to companies with Mac computers because they were so different. (Being a Mac Temp is a little like saying I used to dress in a bowler hat and spats like the cats on Mighty Mouse.) All this happened in December. The scripts we'd turned in looked like money for Christmas and more powdered donuts. But we were soon awash in real donuts, plus eclairs, bear claws, chocolate bars and fresh coffee so hot it made your teeth glow a fiery red. (Then again, we may have been drinking isotope water. I haven't felt well lately.) Tom Ruegger's assistant, the admirable Kathy Page, called later to set up a meeting with Tom and Sherri Stoner. Paul and I had made it! We were employed in TV animation - the back porch of show biz (according to certain ham-headed animation executives.)

That same day, Monday, December 16, Acme director M.D. Sweeney leased a store front in North Hollywood that would become the new home of Acme Comedy Theatre.

Low overhead and big checks - that was a fine, crackling time.



h/t: flixvendor

American Movie Clip

The perils of not completing your projects.

Short and Shorter

Three intense writing days have ended. I finally have a readable draft that I will clean up and submit to fine readers on the morrow.

Tonight I will celebrate with YouTube and watch World at War and The Larry Saunders Show.

Two-Story Building

My animated project still waits. I'm trying to power through this short story. Ha. That's rich. The thing is a tome. I could drop it on a cat and cause pain. It's gonna be around 8k words, roughly 30 pages. I had to lose a pair of characters and change the lead from a Bill Mahr type to someone less caustic whom the reader might like. The upside is that all elements have been laid. The table is set. All I have to do is eat. Then get back to writing the story.

Three-Wolf Confirmation

I sent my friend Ernesto the Three-Wolf post. I'm delighted to learn one of his co-workers knows a man with such a shirt. Amazon sales of the newly fabled garment shot up 2300% thanks to a facetious review. Now, if it only glowed in the dark....

Spy Jerks and Animated Scripts

Big squabble between spy chiefs over who gets to pick the top U.S. spy in each country. I guess it's like the swim suit competition. Good thing the intelligence services "reorganized" several years back, increasing efficiency by adding more bureaucrats. You want our guys to do well, but the big dogs arguing in public over turf doesn't inspire confidence.

Back to animation. I finally got the green light on my script - the one where the contract is half as long as the script itself. I'm looking to have fun and maybe get it done by next Monday. I've got that short-story due to go out on June 27 and still need to re-write extensively.

I haven't posted a bad horror movie trailer in days. My hands tremble.

Spies of Tomorrow

On Internet radio, the CIA is running an ad campaign asking for adventurous, patriotic, curious citizens to serve as intelligence agents. Applicants skilled in bureaucratic in-fighting, dodging blame, and document-leaking will be fast-tracked to a supervisory position. Jobs are also available for old school spies, but applicants must provide their own newspaper with cut-out eye holes. Or simply join the State Department, become disgruntled and spy for Cuba. It'll help if you're a zealot with a sweet tooth, because the Cubans only pay in sugar cane.

AMAZING INCREDIBLE TRAILER MADNESS

When will it end? Who can say? Who will be the one to end it? Watch if you dare for the unbelievable, astounding conclusion!

Japanese Monster Trailer

This trailer keeps coming at you. See if you can guess the monster's name?

h/t: KeSci

D-Day Salute

AMERICAN CEMETERY IN NORMANDY

My mother was a British Army nurse in England during World War II. She told me once of hearing hundreds and hundreds of aircraft flying overhead as Allied airborne troops headed across the Channel for the drop behind the invasion beaches. That was the night of June 5 with landings starting the next morning: June 6, 1944. Sixty-five years later, I thank those who made the effort to free France so they could snub us and drop out of NATO, write depressing literature, and otherwise be a pain-in-the-ass.

Harlan Ellison Lets It Rip

A big fan of Pinky and the Brain, author Harlan Ellison zings Warner Bros. over working for free. Alas, I'm guilty of said crime (Freak DVDs), but have ceased on writing gigs. Recently, I've passed on several opportunities to contribute time and effort to some project for a murky future payoff. It's a miserable scam. The interview is from a documentary on Ellison called Dreams With Sharp Teeth.

h/t: factualfactory

Pop Music and Gargantuas

What are words for? Why, to get stuck in my throat! What else? War of the Gargantuas is a delightful nostalgic offering and a fine Russ Tamblyn vehicle, as well as a cautionary tale on the hazards of working in Japan.

ht/: Jandro Meza

Cyber Boon

Generous takineko points me toward junk trailer nirvana.

New From 21st Century Distribution!!

Based on my selection of Creatures from the Abyss, YouTube recommended this trailer. Scary how spot-on they can be.

h/t: sideshowcarney

Post-Surgery Knee News

Knee size is down considerably, but I have an odd rash all over my left leg. I think it may be from  goop the surgery team smeared on. Since it doesn't itch, I'm not sweating it. Intense pain whenever I accidentally torque the knee, but otherwise it's holding up fine.

General immobility has helped writing as I knocked out a thirty-page draft on a short story this week. I'm 1,500 words over the submission limit for this anthology I'm gunning for. But I'll take a machete to the story on Monday.

My TNT friend Ernesto is coming by tomorrow so I can get out of this place, eat breakfast and enjoy the June rains.  

Deep Horror

Where did they sink the budget? Special effects or acting? You decide.

h/t: shamefulcinema

Left Knee Ouch

Much post-op discomfort. The knee has needs that include painful movement to prevent locking up. I'm already sick of crutches. But there's no way out but straight ahead. On to July!

In the world of TV animation, things are tough. An old artist friend told me that a big studio required animation-testing before hire. He was asked to board several pages of script for free. (Then not hired.) This is a guy with years of experience, doing everything from roughs to directing. But the Man gets to make the rules.

Darn that Man.

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" - Literally

Curtain is pulled on this 80s pop video.

h/t: Hot Air