Vehicular Timeslaughter

My car's engine light came on with no seemingly related performance problems, so I took it to the shop to be sure. But the dealership started making appointments to work on cars. They could onyl see me at 2, so I took my car back home, got Your Sis's car and drove that to work. A few hours later, I went back home, switched cars, and took mine to the shop. After about 90 minutes, they told me that the oil-change shop apparently put in the air filter wrong, and it triggered a wire. If the light comes on again within a week, they'll replace the sensor. Meaning nothing else is wrong with the car. Good to know. While I waited, I read Romeo & Juliet and found the parts I could realistically play.

I assume every college-age boy and gal are gonna want the leads, and they can have them. The couple are the least interesting parts. The two packs of Montague and Capulet boys are meatier, as are the friar and the prince. But the friar and Lord Capulet will no doubt go to the repertory older guys, leaving me with the running buddies are blood enemies of Romeo. Those are fine roles, and I wouldn't complain about them. Your Sis knows the play front and back, and she's auditioning too. She's never auditioned before, and she's nervous. I'll talk her through it before we go in tonight. But no matter what we do, auditions are rattling. I think we're conditioned to be disturbed by them.

After the car work, I went back home and raked for about an hour and essentially took the rest of the night off.

Picture of the Day
Here's a weird thing. If you go to the extended 300 trailer on YouTube and stop it at 1:52, you see this:



Now this obviously has nothing to do with Spartans, but it does suggest the next film by the 300 director: Watchmen. That comic is the Moby Dick, the Les Miserables, the Hamlet of comic books, and it has long toiled in development even as comic fans debate whether any adaptation could do it justice. The guy here is Rorschach, the quasi-narrator of the comic. In the comic, he looks like this:


Until we hear something specific about a greenlit movie, there's no reason to go crazy over a Watchmen film, so I'll shelve my comments for now. But that clip is nestled in the trailer as a treasure for the comic fans, and it's a acknowledgment that a good number of comic fans would kill to see the film made. This could be the spark that lights a geek bomb.

In the News
I'm not saying it's likely, but those rumors about Cheney walking away just won't die. An upcoming Time cover story will try to expose Cheney as the real power in the White House, which may shock as many as eight people. This leads to armchair quarterbacking as to who will replace him. Condi would be an obvious pick, but that would necessitate the administration's third secretary of state, and that position needs consistency. A smart ploy would be to tap a presidential candidate like McCain, but Bush and McCain have an unpleasant history, and this could skewer McCain's platform as an independent thinker if he's seen walking two paces behind the president. But a Cheney-less white House means someone else has to run the shop. Rove lost his power when the Plame story broke, and I can't see two grown adults taking orders via the Cheney-phone from the Cheney-cave. Wouldn't it be hysterical if Bush took control for once and turned out to know what he was doing? Maybe that's why he can't properly communicate his ideas or hide his awkward chuckle: he's constantly wondering if he's correctly following a script he doesn't like.

Presidents' Weekend

We saw the high school boys win their conference championship in front of a packed madhouse gym. The student section lit into the opposing team AND their cheerleading squad with its own back-flipping representative matching the opposing tumbler move for move.

On Saturday I fed Your Sister lunch between her hourlong siestas. She stayed up long enough to watch the extended Fellowship of the Ring, which I think clocks in at three days. While she was out, I worked on the food comic. The next day, I drove down to Spartanburg to visit Esther. She was th photo wrangler at our wedding. She has a baby now, and this was my first chance to meet him. He's a happy lad. It was her dad's birthday weekend, and I gave him DVDs of GlenGary Glen Ross and The Right Stuff. I noticed during the drive that my oil light was flickering on hard turns, but I made the trip back home with no trouble. That's where I was when you talked to Your Sis on Sunday. I'm sure you killed in the interview.

On Monday, I took the car in for an oil change and learned it had almost no oil left I must have waited too long between changes. Also got the air and fuel filters cleaned, and the car does run much better now. Your Sis had to work. I got the groceries (and loaded up on crackuccino).

But before that I hit the gym. It was crowded with older folks, people who take to the machines in khaki pants and jeans because they intend to sweat as little as possible. Me, I'm going to get drenched. I found an open treadmill and started up my routine But before I could get running, an older man hopped on the machine next to me, and, I swear, started eyeballing me. Like a showdown. Like I was moving in on his territory. If I had to guess, he saw himself as the geezer stud who enjoyed making the other folks look feeble. Here I was -- younger, thinner, dashingly handsome, armed with an iPod (packed with the devil's music) -- working his beat and wooing his wimmens.

Now I had no interest in impressing his gals; I'm already hitched to an older woman. But as soon as I started running, he began to gallop too. With virtually no warm-up time. He meant to show me up. I didn't care. I had a fresh new playlist of songs to cycle through. Once I realized I was surrounded by old folks, I didn't have to worry about my music disturbing them. They can't hear. So I blasted my headphones, ensuring I will be as deaf when I hit their age. It's the ciiiiiircle of liiife, it's the wheeeeel of fortuuuune.

After about fifteen minutes, he stopped, cleaned up the machine, grabbed his gear, and left. I still had another fifteen minutes to go. I felt fine. This was my first run of any kind since the rehearsals started, and I was doing OK. I wasn't going at my top speed though; I was just testing whether my body remembered how to do this. I finished with no problems and devoid of 470 calories. Which I completely replaced with that crackuccino.

After all that, I sketched out panels for the comic over the three alloted pages, played some Guitar Hero and wrestling, and joined Your Sis for another basketball playoff game at the school. That team is tired. They played three games last week and held practice on Saturday in addition to their schoolwork (we hope). They gotta get some time off. We grabbed dinner at Juan's and tidied it off with Coronas.

I can already feel my body respond to the exercise. I'm a little tender, but also standing a little straighter.

Moving Picture of the Day
The third trailer for The Simpsons film is the goods.


In the News
Britney looks good bald. Honest. My theory: She dyed her hair into oblivion and had to start from scratch.

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The JetBlue fiasco baffles me. I clearly remember Northwest leaving people on the tarmac for eight hours within the last 10 years, and that airline didn't have this flustered response. Both times, weather played a big part in the airlines stranding passengers. But I don't see why a "bill of rights" would be necessary when common sense says you remove people from a plane after two hours of sitting on the runway. We got stuck in such a spot in Cleveland. Some folks around us made a stink (figuratively) and whined about the situation. But Your Sis and I brought books and we read out the wait. After a while, we exited the plane and got a new flight the next morning. It wasn't that big a deal. There was no need to threaten to sue or yell at the flight attendants.