Poor David. Reading his post (see below) I couldn’t help thinking, “I just talked to the guy yesterday and he was fine!” I know he’s not dead or severely injured, but when messes like these happen I can’t help but entertain my childish notion of “if only I could go back to last nite and warn him of what was going to happen.” I know its impossible, I came to that realization a few years ago. But still…

When things like these happen to people I know, theres one thought that pushes its way to the front of my reactions: thank god that didn’t happen to me. We all think this on some level when something bad happens to someone, no matter how conscious we are of it. It’s selfish, yes. But we take great comfort in this selfishness. “Man that sucks, David, I’m really sorry that happened. But hey, look on the bright side: at least it wasn’t me, right??” the latter comment isn’t stated out loud, we keep that to ourselves. This always bothered me, our taking comfort in not being the ones affected, but I suppose its in our nature. I sympathize with you Oso, but I can’t say I empathize…or is it the other way around. If this appears callous to anyone, you know you’re thinking the same thing. You might not be aware of it, but you are. The ouija knows all.

I know how sad I would be if that happened to me, mainly because I am extremely dependent on my car (as I’m guessing most of you who live in California are.) I know David, like myself, has had some great adventures in his car and its always sad to see something get old. And then there’s the financial burden of getting it fixed. The incessant “what the fuck am I going to do now?!” that must be going through Oso’s head. I really hope its only a blown gasket and that you can keep your trusty Saturn. Oh well…at least it wasn’t me.

Remember in high school how Auto Shop was always seen as a class for jocks/lollygaggers/dumtwiddles? Well at least that was how I saw it in high school. Now I regret not taking Auto Shop more than I regret getting caught helping that pretty girl cheat on her English test (Donna, call me!). What information do I use in my daily life that I learned from high school? Close to none. Sigh. I suppose that just goes on the list of missed opportunities.

I finished watching Fritz Lang’s “M” (1931) today. It was his first sound film and it is also the first sound film to feature a serial killer. It was pretty interesting but there must’ve been something wrong with the DVD or something cause there was no color, only blacks and greys and whites. Strange. Made it a little more difficult to watch, but i was able to make it through. I rented it because I thought Lang’s “Metropolis” (1927) was one of the most imaginitive movies I’ve ever seen, and the fact that it was made before the advent of sound and color in film made it all the more remarkable. Fritz Lang, visionary.

Thanks for letting us know about “City of Lost Children,” Oso. I had seen 10 minutes of it and thought it was the greatest thing ever and always wanted to rent it but never got around to it. Now I know I shouldn’t. For those of you who don’t know, it stars Ron Perlman aka HellBoy. Now I don’t know if any of you know who Ron Perlman is, but he’s…how do you say…hideous. The poor guy. His biggest hits have been “Hellboy” and “The Beauty and the Beast” TV series, both of which involved him wearing layers upon layers of makeup to hide his…how should I say…hideousness. I just feel for the guy because he seems like a pretty capable actor, but his ugly mug isn’t compatible with Hollywood. That is why I was so happy to hear that Hellboy was number one at the box-office. This is probably the best Ron Perlman will ever get, and I am happy to see a man with a face like his be a box-office hit. Kudos to you, Ron Perlman, for keeping the faith. I suggest you all see Hell-Boy, not because it’s a piece of cinematic history, but because Hollywood needs to get the message that ugly-people are people too…even if they’re disguised under 3 feet of red makeup. As for me, I am not going to see the movie because it looks like a piece of shit.