I MISS JOHN HUGHES

It’s not my birthday.

I’m not that old. Yet. Unless you ask my kids. But, then, the younger one still mixes up the days of the week and the older one has no concept what “I’ll be there in a minute means”, so they probably aren’t the best judges of the degree to which I am ancient.

There’s been no great trauma. No near death experience.

And yet…

And yet…

I’m feeling…nostalgic? Wistful? Dunno.

I miss John Hughes movies. Everyone talks about Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink, but my favorites were Weird Science and The Breakfast Club.

I miss Saturday morning cartoons. I know there are whole channels devoted to cartoons 24/7 now, but that’s the point. There was something great about waiting all week to get up early on Saturday morning to park in front of your pals on TV. The Superfriends. Bugs Bunny. Fat Albert. Scooby-Doo. Throw in huge (guilt-free) bowls of Cocoa Puffs or Cap’n Crunch and that’s a perfect kid morning.

I miss summer vacation. The last day of school, sure. But also fireflies and fresh cut grass and cousin Mike’s annual visit (that’s how I discovered Doctor Who - thanks, Mike!) The chill when you go from ninety degrees outside to the freezer section at the grocery store. And long expanses of time with nothing to do and being just fine with that.

I miss Twinkies. I mean Twinkies back when I didn’t know or care what was in them.

I miss the scuff marks on my shoes from stopping my bicycle with my feet instead of the brakes.

I miss walking to the park and stopping to get a strawberry crush – in a glass bottle! – out of the machine at the gas station.

I miss a time when I didn’t miss things from a time before that.

THE NAME OF THE DOCTOR: SOME THOUGHTS

This isn’t really a review of this week’s series (or “season” if you prefer) 7 finale of Doctor Who. If you’re reading this, you hvae probably seen it, have your own opinions, and have read who knows how many other reviews. Still, this would be the time to warn you thusly:

KEEP READING AND THERE BE MAJOR SPOILERS, YO! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So, with that disclaimer, let’s proceed.

Having had time to ponder the episode, these are just some thoughts and reactions.

For the first time since…I dunno… End of Time?…I was jaw-droppingly stunned. In a good way. All those past Doctor cameos…wow.

Question: I barely caught a fleeting glimpse of the 10th Doctor and didn’t see 8 at all (though I’ve read there was a glimpse of him just before 2 runs across the screen. On second viewing, I can kind of see it, but it’s certainly fleeting.). None of the old docs had a lot of screen time, but could the relative lack of 8 and 10 hint at a bigger role for them in the November 50th special? We already know 10 is definitely in… Dunno. Could just be wishful thinking.

So, we’ve got hints that, aside from Trenzalore being where the Doctor’s tomb is, something big happened to put him there. Time War, maybe? Will the 50th be all about the time war? The Doctor hs claimed responsibility for locking away the Daleks and Time Lords to stop the war, but which Doctor, precisely fought the war? All of them?

Where dies John Hurt’s “Doctor” fit in? We were told the evil Valeyard was the Doctor’s last incarnation, so who is this guy? Is he really the last Doctor? Could he instead be the first Doctor, the one all the others have been running through time and space to leave behind? Could he somehow be an older version of an existing doctor?

Clara. I’m liking the idea of infinite copies of Clara spread throughout time and space, but still a little underwhelmed, frankly, with the character. For someone who is so many different people, we’ve only really seen three: Oswin, Victorian Clara and “modern” Clara. Maybe if every episode this season had featured a different Clara. But would that have given something away? The revamped Doctor Who that started in 2005 has been preoccupied with spunky, hot young women as companions. The old series did it too, but that at least had a few men sprinkled throughout. And even a tin dog. Sure, new series had Rory. That’s one, I guess.

Why is the tomb TARDIS interior just like 11′s? Surely by the time The Doctor eventually dies, he will have redecorated. It may be nothing, but it feels like a plot complication to me.

I kind of dig the idea of the dead Doctor being just a pulsating scar on the time vortex.

The Doctor very specifically says John Hurt is “me”, but he does NOT say “future” me. He strongly implies the man is an alternate version of himself that goes by whatever The Doctor’s real name is.

“What I did, I did in the name of peace and sanity.”

“I know. But not in the name of The Doctor.”

It’s gonna be a long wait until November…

THE FUTURE OF BOOKSTORES REVISITED

I write a lot about why bookstores are dying and what in my humble opinion (shut up – I’m the most humble person ever) they could be doing differently to change the downward spiral they’re caught in.

So here I am writing about it again.

In Santa Barbara, CA, in June, Granada Books will open its doors. No ordinary bookstore is this. Rather, it’s a weird new creature. Not entirely non-profit community center. Not entirely a for-profit bookstore. It will be both.

“Hey! You got chocolate in my peanut butter!”

“And you got peanut butter in my chocolate!”

And they called it a bookstore.

Is this the new wave? The new trend? The future of book selling?

I dunno.

Granada Books hopes the same people who browse bookstores, then buy online for less, will be willing to instead spend their money in the brick and mortar location to help support the community center, which in turn will feature readings, book fairs, yoga classes and other stuff. Their inventory is mostly donated and about half-and-half new books and used or rare books. The hope is to eventually turn the whole thing non-profit and focus on public education and literacy.

And selling books.

That you can pick up and thumb through first.

Right there in your local community.

Sounds pretty nice.

No fancy bells and whistles. No eight dollar cups of coffee. Just books and doing a little something to shop local. Granada Books is offering something online retailers can’t: your neighbors. The people you live and work with every day.

It’s the future. Leap into it.

BOOK REVIEW: IMAGINATION ILLUSTRATED: THE JIM HENSON JOURNAL

This is weird.

I was trying to come up with an idea for a blog post to debut in this space on May 16. I had the thought of writing about this book I’ve been reading, Imagination Illustrated: The Jim Henson Journal, by Karen Falk, with a foreword by Jim Henson’s daughter Lisa Henson.

That’s not the weird part. Getting to that.

Jim Henson was, of course, the creator of the Muppets. Sesame Street, The Muppet Show, Fraggle Rock, the cult-move fav The Dark Crystal, all benefited from or sprang directly from Jim Henson’s mind.  Kermit the Frog, Fozzie Bear, Miss Piggy, Gonzo, not to mention Bert & Ernie and the gang from Sesame Street, formed a HUGE part of my childhood. Me and a lot of others.

So, recently, I was given Imagination Illustrated: The Jim Henson Journal as  gift. The book takes pages from a handwritten journal Henson started as a young man starting out in puppeteering in the 195os and uses it, along with his drawings and photos from his life and work, to frame Henson’s story. He kept that journal nearly up to his untimely death in 1990 at age 53.

Here comes the weird part.

So, I thought, this might be an okay blog topic. But then I noticed something. The date. Two dates actually.

I was planning the blog to go up in 2013. On May 16.

Jim Henson died in 1990. ON MAY 16!

Did your blood just turn cold. Mine did. I may also have peed a little. It’s not warming me up though.

Given this cosmic confluence, or something, how could I not do this blog post now?

So here it is.

I love this book. My favorite thing about it? There was clearly no separation in Henson’s head between his work life, his family life and his own personality. They all fed each other. A lot of his journal entries are things like: “August 14-26, shooting new training film for IBM. Using Rowlf in this one. Second kid born. Doing the Kermit bit on Ed Sullivan.” Entries about flying to London to shoot a TV special land alongside picking up the family’s new station wagon.

Yet, despite the lack of separation, Henson wasn’t screwed up. He was passionate about his work AND his family and he figured out how to make them co-exist. Nice skill, that.

My SECOND favorite thing about this book (so far anyway. I’m still reading it.)?

Kermit was NOT the first national, break-out Muppet star.

I just freaked your crap out, didn’t I?

It’s true that Kermit was one of the first Muppets. He was a character on Henson’s 1950′s show Sam and Friends, a late-night show. Each episode ran all of five minutes but got Henson noticed by advertisers and lead to a long and productive career in commercials and industrial training films featuring his Muppets and odd characters.

One of those characters was Rowlf the Dog. He’s probably best remembered now as the laid-back piano player on The Muppet Show. But back in the sixties, he was EVERYWHERE. Henson used him in ads for IBM and a host of other companies. He was a regular on TV variety shows.

Although there are a slew of Muppets today more famous than Rowlf, without him, the Muppets never would have happened.

We’re assuming Rowlf’s agent will leverage this into a better deal for the next Muppet Movie.

See, kids, this is what happens when you read books. You learn stuff.

Go read something. Like maybe my other posts, or my book In the St. Nick of Time .

So! The takeaway is: The Henson book, awesome. My shameless self-promotion, despicable.

CICADAS!

Any day now, all life on Earth will end as we know it.

98 Degrees is reuniting for a new album.

Just kidding. Actually, the cicadas are returning.

I actually wasn’t kidding about that 98 Degrees thing.

But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, because, you see, I said:

THE CICADAS ARE RETURNING!

Every seventeen years, like clockwork, these creepy little oversized grasshoppers emerge from the ground, make a hell of a lot of noise, mate and go back underground for another seventeen years. It’s kind of like Congress, only the cicadas will actually manage to pass a few laws.

BOOM! That’s free political humor, baby!

So, the cicadas have been gone since 1996. That’s a long time. They’ve missed a lot. We here at the blog got to thinking about what the cicadas might do during the brief time they’re in town. Here’s a few ideas.

• Pee. They must be about ready to explode. I can barely make it through a 6-8 hour night of sleep.
• Avoid hitting the bars. This one is true. They especially don’t want to go here, where they will be served as part of the drink. Swear to god.
• Catch up on Downton Abbey.
• Find out how the series “The X-Files” finally ended. Spend some time feeling let down.
• Get strip searched at the airport. “I’ve been underground seventeen years! I didn’t know! …No, I hibernate underground. I do not have an underground terrorist cell.”
• Wash the bedsheets. Ripe, man.
• Make some prank calls, only to discover everyone has cell phones now, sort of making prank calling stupid and ineffectual.
• Get an iPad app that will calculate for them what year they are supposed to emerge from hibernation next time, because counting is so 1996.
• FINALLY read the Harry Potter books. NOBODY MENTION WHAT HAPPENS TO DUMBLEDORE!
• Check their investment portfolios they last reviewed in 1996. Incessant buzzing is replaced by sobbing.
• “We went to war with who?”
• “Which country is threatening us now?”
• Restock the underground hibernation hole with Cheetos, Maker’s Mark, and insect porn (Oh, it’s out there. This. Is. The. Internet.)
• Fly around and make a really annoying buzzing sound for hours on end. It’s how they roll.

CICADA TOUR 2013 (I so wish I’d had t-shirts made up.)

I’M SORRY – MOTHER’S DAY EDITION

Moms.

Where would we be without them?

Nowhere, obviously.

Come on. You never took biology? See, when a man and woman love each other very much…

Anyway.

Mother’s Day is the day set aside to honor our mommies. And what better way to do that than by admitting all the ways you’ve screwed her over?

And so, without further adieu….Happy Mother’s Day!

Mom, after all the heartache I put you through, it’s so awesome of you to come down here and visit me at my great new job. But…I’m sorry, you’re going to have to move your car. You’re blocking the drive thru.

I’m sorry your waiter screwed up your drink order, but Grampa is doing the best he can.

I’m sorry I never took piano lessons like you always wanted. On the other hand, when you didn’t want me to bludgeon that satellite TV guy, I restrained myself, didn’t I?

I’m sorry Dad never appreciated you like I do. I mean, Dad never even asked for bail money, did he?

I’m sorry the food at our Mother’s Day brunch wasn’t very good. I’m hoping the prosecutor uses that as a mitigating factor at our trial for breaking into those people’s house.

Further, I’m sorry about taking the last hush puppy off the buffet. I know how much you like them…which makes my decision to spit the hush puppy out on the floor when the crunchy part felt a little too crunchy seem even more selfish.

I’m sorry the baker messed up the decoration on the cake. I KNOW I clearly said, “It should say ‘Have a great day, Mother Funckner‘.” I hope, Mrs. Funckner,  you won’t call off your daughter’s and my wedding.

I’m sorry Mother’s Day is only one day. I mean, come on, we get Monday off for PRESIDENT’S DAY! We can’t get a freakin’ three-day weekend for this? I work and I work and for what? We can put a man on the moon, but we can’t figure out a calendar and…uh, oh, by the way, love you, Mom.

I’m sorry I invited my sister to your party, but, seriously, she only tried to burn down the house one time. Get over it already.

I’m sorry Hallmark doesn’t make a card that says “Happy Mother’s Day from the son you don’t like as much as Peter”, but, you could at lest have waited until I left the room to say it.

I’m sorry the flowers I got you were plastic. On the upside, the chocolates were real. Mostly.

HI, MOM!

 

INJECTION CONNECTION

So, apparently some scientists at Boston Children’s Hospital have hit upon a microparticle that can be injected into a body to oxygenate the bloodstream. It works even if the patient has difficulty breathing or EVEN if the person can’t breathe at all. There are lots of medical possibilities for this particle to keep patients alive until they can be operated on and what not. The article I read also pointed out some non-medical application – like, say, letting Navy Seals and deep-sea rescue crews stay under water longer.

All of this got me thinking. What other stuff could be injected into us that would be beneficial? We already put God knows what into our bodies every day anyway (what exactly are Pop-Tarts made of? Never mind.) We might as well start making stuff work for us a little bit. Here are some ideas:

1.  The Internal Muzak capsule. A tiny microchip is implanted under the skin that senses when you’re bored – listening to your brother-in-law’s views on Congress, stuck talking to that weird dude at the office Christmas party, long family car trips – and automatically turns out a serene selection of your favorite music to drown out the chatter.

2.  The Pee Machine. Getting up to pee is such a chore. Come on, science! Why haven’t you fixed this for us? You created the roomba for god’s sake! Imagine if you could develop some sort of microorganism that eats pee. Just shoot up right there on the couch with this little particle and enjoy another beer without having to worry about the consequences. Except, you know, getting drunk and losing the love and support of your friends and family.

3.  Facebook For The Brain. Good with names, but can’t remember faces? Vice versa? Here’s the answer. An enzyme injected directly into the brain (you won’t feel a thing, honest) that gives you total recall of the appearance and biographical info of everyone you’ve ever met. I’m all over this one. Except that one waiter at The Outback. That bastard. He’s dead to me. (When I say I want a Bloomin’ Onion, I want it RIGHT NOW.)

4.  Injectable mocha lattes. Just ’cause I really dig mocha.

5.  A particle that causes you to secrete some sort of hormone that repels people who hand out pamphlets on street corners or come to your door to sell you stuff.

6.  New-Age Steroids. Instead of big muscles and ‘roid rage, maybe these new ones could give you, I dunno, a greater capacity to empathize with your fellow humans. And, of course, tiny gonads.

7. Some sort of fat blocker that lets the good parts of a bacon cheeseburger into the heart area and kicks the rest to the curb.

8.  Some sort of serum that makes me understand why anyone STILL cares what the Kardashians are doing. Also Kate Goselin, Glen Beck, and Sarah Palin.

Well, that’s it for this week on Science Corner. You’ve got your mission, scientists of the world. Make us proud. Or at least give us something that makes us forget how disappointed we are.

 

HOW DOCTOR WHO REALLY SHOULD GET ON THE BIG SCREEN

Since it’s been at least a day or two since I mentioned Doctor Who in this space, let me say it again.

Doctor Who.

This year, as I’ve noted, marks the 50th anniversary of the debut of the original “classic” series in November 1963. Retrospectives of the show have begun. BigFinish is producing special anniversary audio plays with all of actors still living who played the classic Doctors and many of their companions. In November, the BBC will air a “movie length” special featuring at least Doctors 10 and 11. Any other returning favorites have been, somewhat surprisingly, kept secret.

THe even bigger news with the TV special is that it will also be A THEATRICAL RELEASE …IN 3-D!

At least, it will be in the United Kingdom.

Now, I’m frankly not all that blown away by 3-D. It seems to be so rarely done well. But I’m quite excited about the idea of Doctor Who on the big screen. Whether any of us outside the U.K. will get to see it….well, we’ll see. And, honestly, I don’t think the 50th anniversary needs a theatrical release. Give me a really good sci-fi Doctor Who TV story with a good mix of current and classic characters and I’m a happy fan-boy.

But…I do think Doctor Who in theaters is a good idea. Remember when The X-Files grew from cult hit to its peek in popularity right around the fourth season? The producers, as a “thank you” to fans (not to mention a chance to make huge wads of cash), filmed a big screen movie during the fourth season and released it in the summer between season 4 and 5. The movie dovetailed with what was going on with the characters by that point, while still providing enough back story to entertain those who hadn’t been watching. The movie was great, a smash hit.

It was, I think, an unprecedented move: putting a TV show on the big screen while the show is still running new episodes on TV. But it paid off.

Doctor Who should do that. It’s a tough show to try to drop a movie into the middle of the continuing story line (Doctor Who usually has a mix of stand alone monster stories and continuing plotlines tying episodes, or more specifically character arcs, together)

But I have a way around that.

The Time War.

When Doctor Who returned to television in 2005 after some sixteen years, the back story was that in the intervening period the Doctor had been embroiled in The Time War, an epic battle between the evil Daleks and the Doctor’s own people, the Time Lords.

Fans would LOVE to see how the time war went down. A big-budget theatrical movie is the perfect place for writers and actors and directors to go nuts with that.

The Doctor himself takes responsiblity for ending the war – by wiping out the Daleks and his own people. And somewhere during that war, the Doctor – a being who can cheat death by “regenerating” into a new body – regenerated from his eighth incarnation into the ninth incarnation we see in the 2005 series. We don’t know how or when that happened, and it has driven fans batty for years.

Eight was played by Paul McGann, who fans only got to see on-screen in 1996′s mediocre, pseudo pilot for a new series. The problem with the film wasn’t McGann, but…well, lots of other things. McGann has gone on to do a lot of really popular audio plays as The Doctor, but fans would love to see him back on-screen.  A movie that operates independent of the timeline of the current series seems like  great chance for that.

One of the problems with the Doctor Who TV movie was it was made by Americans. Doctor Who is a uniquely, venerable and venerated British institution. If the show is going to leap to the big screen under my plan, it needs to stay British. Get current show runner Stephen Moffat to be involved. And former head Russell T. Davies. And Mark Gatiss who writes a lot of the best episodes. And other writes and producers and directors from the classic series. Do this thing right or don’t do it at all.

Fans might even – dare we say it – get to see the long-sought regeneration of McGann’s Eighth into Christopher Eccleston’s Ninth Doctor. This seems unlikely given Eccleston’s adamant refusal to have anything to do with Doctor Who since he left, but…a big-time movie with world-wide release might just lure him back. He’s in Thor 2 for goodness sakes.

So anything is possible.

THE MONTH OF MAY: NOT FOR SISSIES

Once all the major holidays were set and the configuration of the seasons laid out, the elder whatevers in charge of all this (vaguely Muppet-like ferrets in funny hats) sat back and puffed their cigars, satisfied with a job well done. This was long ago before smoking was considered bad. Plus, if you’re an elder ferret in a hat with the ability to construct a calendar and shape the seasons, who the hell is going yo stop you?

So, there they sat, waiting to order dessert on the company tab and go home. But then, a wee voice in the back – probably Henderson, the bastard – pointed out that, really, there’s not much going on April and May. Those months are sort of like the states of Kansas and Rhode Island; nice enough, but not headline-worthy.

“Well,” a ferret in a top hat with one scrawny flower on it, “It could rain a lot in April. And maybe that rain could make the flowers grow in May.”

“April showers bring May flowers,” said the ferret with the propeller beanie whose poetry usually just annoyed people.

Today, though, everyone thought this sounded great. Also, their parking meters were about to expire.

“Yeah, but…” ear-muff ferret said, “Shouldn’t May have something too?”

A collective groan.

“Flowers, ” someone said.

“Yeah…,” earmuff said, not at all enthusiastic. “Only, maybe something, I dunno, flashier?”

“Screw it,” the ferret jingling his car keys said. “Just make it snow in May one time. It’ll freak everyone out.”

“And after that, they’ll be happy when May is boring.”

And so it was done.

Even with such a cogent explanation, this spring seems strange. Are you kidding me, weather? A foot of snow falls a few hours north of me? Kids get a snow day while, where I live, it’s eighty-five?

May isn’t a month for sissies anymore.

In other shocking May news, Lindsay Lohan is in rehab. I know! I’m as surprised as you.

May, man, MAY.

What other certainties of life were upended? Well, according to the video (there’s video now for everything. Pretty sure someone is recording me writing this blog. When it ends up on YouTube, I really hope you’re not squeamish.)

Anyway, turns out the video proves Reese Witherspoon IS NOT PERFECT.

Sit down. Catch your breath. Collect yourselves.

My three-year-old has, several times, cleaned up his toys WITHOUT BEING ASKED.

May is a long month. That 31st day is a killer. But we’ll get through it. And we punch on through to June, well, then there’s Father’s Day and the start of summer (unless that’s in July. Too lazy to Google it – a new low in laziness. Yay, me!)

Stick together everyone. Things will get better.

YOUR THING SUCKS

You like things. You have preferences and beliefs. You’d rather do this than that.

All of this defines you. Its how you live. It’s the stuff that you put on your eHarmony  profile. Not that I would know! *Quickly deletes his GoodTimeMonkeyMan456 profile*

Good for you, sticking to your guns – which is in vogue, by the way, gun-sticking. Thanks, NRA - and not letting anyone tell you you’re wrong.

Except all the people who do.

Rest assured, whatever you like, there are lots of other people who think that thing sucks.

That band is great!

It blows.

Only publish with a large publishing house!

Bah! Small presses are the saviour of publishing.

Screw you both! Self-publishing all the way, baby!

I like chocolate.

Give me strawberry.

Sometimes, it’s tough to voice a preference. In a crowd where everyone else is voting contrary to you, it’s less…troublesome?… to just say, “Oh, well, whatever you’re having then.”

This is the part where I should say, “Don’t back down!” “Fight back!” “Stick to your beliefs!” “More stuff with exclamation points!”

But you know that already.

You also know that sometimes you discover maybe your thing really does suck.

That’s the thing about belief. Belief needs to be cultivated and protected, but it also needs to be fed with new information once in a while. If it is, sometimes belief just gets deeper. And sometimes, belief turns into sometime else entirely. And that’s okay, so long as it’s a reasoned changed. No sudden lurching from “I like daisies to donkeys make the best friends!”

There’s a lot of stuff in the world compelling all of us to take sides. Issues both big (terrorism) and small (what the hell did they do to “Downton Abbey”?) We’re pushed now more than ever to see things black and white. To TAKE A STAND, for god’s sake.

You want my advice. Do your own thing. Just never forget that the world is huge with lots of questions and answers to those questions, most of which you do not possess.

But the next person you talk to just might.

So say what you think, but then shut up and listen once in a while.

You might be surprised what you hear.

This might be a good time to end this post.