I'm Allergic to Oscar Slaps

At some point, as I was cleaning carpets Saturday, I raised some kind of allergen in the dust that laid me out like getting punched by Will Smith.

Don't worry, I'm not going to dwell for too long on the infamous Oscar slap--just a little.

I'm allergic to dust, or something in dust, or maybe I'm allergic to dusting. In any case, our house had cats living in it for many years, and I'm highly allergic to them. It's not easy getting dander out of every nook and cranny. I don't even know where the crannies are. (I'm also allergic to dogs, but sometimes you just have to suck it up, as in sucking dander into your lungs.)

"Bombardier to pilot, dander away!"

 

I have a lot of allergies, but for some reason dust is the worst ... maybe it has all the other allergens in it? I should wear a mask, but I'm a man, and men are stupid. So for the second half of the weekend I laid on the couch, in a medicinal stupor, and watched a marathon of How the Universe Works.

The great thing about the weekend is that I didn't watch the news for three days (or the weather, which pretty much spoke for itself). But I didn't stay completely away from social media, which is sad.

This explains why I had a dream, narrated by Mike Rowe, in which Jupiter insulted Saturn's rings, so Earth crossed through the asteroid belt and slapped Jupiter right in its spot.

"Now, that's what I call a close encounter."

"Memes, uh ... find a way."

For those of you who, like me, don't really care, at the Oscar ceremony Sunday Chris Rock made fun of Smith's wife's baldness, which is caused by a medical condition. Smith then smacked Rock and said, "Welcome to Earth".

Or something like that. I don't watch the Oscars after my doctor advised me to cut down on stress-inducing political speeches. Besides, I haven't watched the movie that won Best Picture since 2002.

You know, there should be an awards show for low-brow fans, like me. Best Picture, 1977: Smokey and the Bandit! (Actually, that year it was Rocky--which I did watch, so never mind.)

My allergies made me feel like Sylvester Stallone punched me. At this rate, I'll need a TV on the ceiling. (This is actually from a sleep study. I couldn't. Sleep, that is.)

Seeing the reaction to the Will-Rock incident made me realize I truly am from an older generation. If someone got up in front of a national audience and made fun of my wife's medical condition, I'd break their nose. The speaker, not the national audience. I recognize this is hypocritical, considering I'm such a fan of Don Rickles, although in my defense Mr. Personality never made fun of my wife.

But it's the 21st Century, and although you can't swing a cat without offending someone (which would offend someone), apparently it's no longer allowed to be offended on behalf of a loved one. "Violence never solved anything!" Which isn't true, but I like the thought.

But I'm a man, and men are stupid. In any case, Emily doesn't need my help: She could punch out both Christ Rock and Will Smith. I've seen her push around horses.

Although she never made fun of them.

 

No, I don't hate cats. Read the whole title, people.

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Movie review: The Batman

Here's the strange thing: While The Batman is clearly a great movie, it's still not my favorite Batman movie. Of course, The Caped Crusader has been getting darker and darker every time he's appeared on screen since the 60s version. That's not surprising--especially with DC Comics movies, which for the most part still haven't figured out that dash of humor thing.

 

I like my Batman about halfway between the camp of the TV show and the relentless pain and drama of the most recent movies: My favorite was the 1989 version. It's probably no coincidence that the first Michael Keaton Batman movie also gave us my favorite Joker, in Jack Nicholson. But that's all a matter of taste, of course.

In this version Batman is just two years into his crime fighting career, and already questioning whether he's doing any good in a crime-ridden Gotham City. Most of the police hate him (with the exception of Detective Jim Gordon, well played by Jeffrey Wright). His seemingly only employee, Alfred, warns of the Wayne fortune's impending collapse, and now a serial killer is sending the Batman notes with strange riddles along with the bodies.

One of Batman's nicknames is "The World's Greatest Detective", a part of his persona often ignored in screen versions. But this movie is more a detective story (and psychological thriller) than a superhero flick, and we get to see Batman using his powers of observation and detective skills as much as his fighting abilities and cool devices. He allies with Gordon and the enigmatic Selena Kyle (Zoe Kravitz) to find answers he might end up not wanting to know.

It slows the movie down compared to most superhero moves. In fact, Batman often resembles more of a mix of James Bond and Sherlock Holmes, as he follows clues and questions suspects.

I'm not a fan of making superhero movies more "realistic" ... they're superhero movies. In particular I'd like the villains to be at least a little bit more like the originals, although you can't fault the casting (including Colin Farrell, John Turturro, and Paul Dano.) Many were surprised at how good Robert Pattinson is as Batman, but not me--I remember the same criticism of comedy actor Michael Keaton, who's still one of my favorites to play the role. As Bruce Wayne, not so much--Pattinson plays him as a single minded and perpetually downbeat mess--although, to be fair, that's exactly what the character would be like at this point in his life.

So there it is: I found The Batman too bleak and grounded for my taste, and yet it's a brilliant film, evidence that "comic book movies" have grown up. I hear there might be a TV series spinoff from this movie, and yes: I'd watch it.

Make sure you wear an adult diaper, though--a lot gets packed into a bladder-filling three hours.

My Score:

Entertainment value: 3 1/2 M&Ms out of four. From the fights and chases to the characters and Gotham City itself, it's a treat--although it's dark both figuratively and literally.

Oscar Potential: 3 M&Ms. It should be four out of four--The Batman is full of Oscar level work.

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Scan The Sky For Scary Storms

 The Governor proclaimed March 13-19 to be Tornado Preparedness Week here in Indiana.  He used to call it Tornado Awareness Week, but a conspiracy theory emerged that without awareness we might not have noticed tornadoes in the first place, and so the governor actually caused the problem. Typical government.

The Governor's Office has denied this. However, they changed the name anyway.

I photographed this funnel cloud in Dekalb County. If it seems like I was far away, it's because I was--and that's the way to do it.

 

The biggest problem with hazardous weather is that it's hazardous. Otherwise we'd call it Non-Hazardous Weather, and then who cares? But since it is (hazardous), there are certain preparations you should make. Oh, they won't make the weather less hazardous, but there's something to be said for survival.

First, develop a plan. Your plan could be to prearrange your funeral and buy a plot, which does have the advantage of being good for any natural disaster, except a zombie outbreak. Or you could assemble a disaster supply kit, with such things as food and water, medicine, booze, a little cash in case you forget the booze, and so on. A first aid kit is a good idea, along with a crescent wrench to shut off the gas after a tornado. Your home's gas, I mean. Also, have something to keep the kids busy, otherwise you might need the first aid kit after using the crescent wrench on them.

You should also have fresh batteries for your NOAA All Hazards radio, which surely you have. Or, you could just have fresh batteries, and nothing to put them into. This is poor pre-planning. At least you changed the batteries on your smoke and carbon monoxide detectors.

Didn't you?

These twin tornadoes in Elkhart County were part of the Palm Sunday, 1965 Outbreak. Twin kids are cute; twin disasters are not.

 

Indiana averages around two dozen tornadoes a year, but in 2011 we saw 72. Since the peak season begins in April, it's possible for a tornado to plow through a partially melted snow drift, then into a brush fire, producing the feared Snow/Fire Twister. Soon to be an original movie on the SyFy Channel.

All the more reason to be prepared, and that means being alert during a watch (which means severe weather may develop), or a warning (which means scream a little, pee down your leg, but get to shelter).

 Shelter is the basement, or at least an interior room on the lowest floor, or you could pretend you're in the army and dig a foxhole really fast. Wrap up in blankets or heavy coats, or possibly pile your children and pets on top of you. Stay away from windows! In addition to broken glass, your neighbors could see you piling up your children and pets.

In cars or mobile homes, oh, boy--you picked the wrong place to be. Go find a better place, or lie flat in your car under your kids and pets, and pretend it's a new amusement park ride. Or, if all else fails, lay down in the nearest ditch, cover your head, and ... oh, who am I kidding? You're doomed. Lay on your back and check out the view, it should be amazing.

 

In all seriousness, tornadoes are amazingly bad, especially at night. Take it from an expert, which means someone other than me. There's the National Weather Service:

https://www.weather.gov/ind/SevereWxWeek

Which is the national service that deals with weather, and that's good enough for me.

Then there's the State of Indiana, which has been dealing with weather since 1816:

https://www.in.gov/dhs/get-prepared/nature-safety/severe-weather-preparedness/

Go check it out, and do what you can to be prepared. Not being ready for a disaster can be disastrous.

 

 

 

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November Mowing Pictures

Just to remind you that this too shall pass, here are some pictures from when the weather was much nicer--in November of last year. Hard to believe anyone would call any part of last year the "good old days", but at least we weren't on the edge of world war. As for weather, I just saw a prediction of a couple of inches of snow for this weekend, which is normal for basketball playoff season.

------------------------------------------------------- 

 

I get such a kick out of mowing the lawn in November. It means I'm not shoveling snow, for one thing. This year I got one last mow in before all the ick began, and I took some pictures along the way because nothing says "safety" like holding onto a roaring lawn mower with one hand while aiming a phone in the other direction.

Lilacs bloom in the spring. Except this year, because this is 2021 and Mother Nature wanted to remind us of what we'll be missing for the next several months.

Most of my fire bush died this year because of another plant that grew up and strangled it--which I didn't notice until the remaining fire bush started to turn color. The part that remained after my slashing massacre seems to be doing okay ... so far.

 

I've never understood why some people hate dandelions. I mean, they're flowers. Those little vines that want to spread everywhere, now those I hate.

Oh, I forgot to mention: growing right with the lilacs were cherries, from a tree I didn't even know was there until late last summer. I'm so bad of this yard thing.

Well, it was nice while it lasted

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A Tin Tenth Anniversary

 It's our tenth wedding anniversary!

And I'm working. Twelve hour shifts. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

It's a massive case of epic fail, and I can only say I was going to take the weekend off, but things happened (to other people, this time). Our actual celebration is going to be in a couple of weeks, when I did manage to get the weekend off. I have big plans!

I have no plans. Who am I kidding?

Oh, I did a little thinking ahead. I looked up what the traditional gift was for a tenth anniversary, and I found the traditional gift was, traditionally, tin or aluminum.

Huh?

Well, I could buy her an aluminum mobile home, but it would just get sucked up by a tornado sometime in May. But thinking of tornadoes reminded me of someone I know who might have advice on the subject:

That's him. His name is Nick Chopper, but ever since a series of rather horrendous accidents, during which his body was replaced, bit by bit, by metal, he goes by The Tin Woodman. He's had a lot of adventures since then, but now he lives in the Winkie Country of Oz, where he built a castle made completely out of tin.

What I'm saying is, he knows a lot about tin. Aluminum, maybe not.

"Hey, Nick", I said. "Can I ax you a question?"

Nick smiled, kind of, which made his face squeak a little. "I'm afraid my friend the Scarecrow beat you to that joke. Several times."

Just my luck. I outlined my problem: upcoming tenth anniversary, stereotypical helpless male, so on. "Can you give me any advice on gifts?"

"Well, you could have her nickel plated."

"I what?"

We were speaking by Magic Picture (long story), so I could only see his upper half, but I had the feeling he was crossed his legs. Can tin do that? "I had myself nickle plated some time ago. It helps preserve my body, especially the joints. They're made of steel, you know."

"Oh. That explains--"

"The rusting, exactly." Nick leaned forward. "Between you and me, I'm only tin coated. Don't tell."

"Oh, of course. But Emily wouldn't want to be nickel plated, being, as you might say, a meat person."

Beowulf takes exception to the term "meat person". He prefers "mom".

"I see your point. Maybe you could make her a tin suit of armor? It wouldn't stand up in a real battle, but it would move people out of her path when she's shopping."

"She wouldn't like the noise."

"How about giving her an extra heart? You probably have all sorts of hearts just laying around, in the outside world."

"Well, there are plenty that don't get used out here. Let me think it over. Meanwhile, remind Dorothy she still owes me ten bucks for that book I sent her ... and $923.50 for shipping."

I'm not too worried about the present, because ten years ago today Emily signed a document promising not to make fun of me and/or cause any permanent harm. In public.

Later I talked to some other people from Oz, and the prevailing opinion was that I should get her an emerald studded ball gown. See, they don't use money in Oz, plus they have a lot of emeralds. And they throw a lot of dances. But I think that might be as bit out of my price range.

I did finally find her a gift, something I think she'll appreciate, something that--I'm not going to identify. I'm no dummy.

Well, not usually.

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All Of a Country and Part Of a Story In the Newsletter

The newsletter for this month (well, it was supposed to be the February newsletter) covers Ukraine, cute dogs and grandkids, and a story excerpt, and that ain't too shabby:

https://mailchi.mp/91ed436f9f33/ukraine-and-free-novella-excerpt-in-order-of-importance

Remember, every time you sign up for a free newsletter from a live author, a dead author gets his wings*.

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*I can't guarantee it'll be a good dead author.