Venus is hanging serenely over the Pearl District tonight. Very pretty. Too bad Venus is such a miserable place.
With Christmas around the corner, and the temperature serving to remind me that I will someday die, we stopped in at Mimosa Studios last night to paint ornaments. Mine is rocking his Oregon Duck cap. You know you want one just like it.
I like my Oregon snowman. He’s got a devilish grin. Beady, calculating eyes. A little round belly … who does he remind me of …?
PLEASE, CHIP KELLY. COME BACK. WE’RE LOST WITHOUT YOU. PHILADELPHIA DOESN’T DESERVE OUR COACH. THEY’RE BAD PEOPLE IN PHILADELPHIA. VERY VERY BAD.
Does listening to podcasts make me old? Maybe. Being born in 1969 is probably what makes me old. Anyway, I like podcasts. Driving anywhere more than 15 minutes without a podcast feels like crossing Kansas in a Radio Flyer.
Let’s break down the good stuff:
I have this on my phone, and you should, too
I haven’t listened to this in a while but he’s got Patton Oswalt this week
No longer subscribing, but feel free
If the three most important things to a business are location, location, and location, the most important to a podcast would be guests, guests, guests. I don’t really care about ordinary people and quirkiness, which is why I quickly got tired of This American Life. Fresh Air is great on the radio, but the guests are hit and miss. Simmons—for the love of Christ, who gives a crap about NFL stats? Interview Obama again. And so on.
I attended Johnny Shaw’s Noir at the Bar event tonight at Beulahland on Northeast 28th. Johnny and five other crime writers read short stories and other excerpts of their work. Featured were Greg Rucka, Barry Graham, Lisa Alber, Chris La Tray, and Roger Hobbs. From what I heard Tuesday night, they are fantastic writers.
I especially enjoyed Alber’s reading from her upcoming Irish murder mystery Kilmoon, which will be out in April.
Meanwhile, Graham, who never has anything nice to say about his native Glasgow, recited his selection from memory. His story was by far the finest I’ve ever heard involving one man eating another man’s eyeball.
Johnny says that Noir at the Bar PDX will become a regular event. I’m on the slate for the next one. After hearing Graham’s eyeball thing, I’ll probably need to read from “Clutch.” I gotta go big.
I carry 1,739 tunes on my iPhone. I can hear a favorite song anytime I want. But turning on the car radio just as they’re playing that same song? It’s like finding $5 on the sidewalk.
The B-58 Hustler was a four-engined, Mach 2 nuclear bomber. It was gorgeous and fast. Sleek, shiny, and capable of flying at over 1,400 mph, it was the perfect badass jet for the early 1960s. The B-58 was the star of the movie Fail Safe, because when a filmmaker wants to show the end of the world, he or she should to do it with style. (Sorry, Mr. Kubrick, you can have your butt ugly B-52′s.)
Ultimately, the B-58 was expensive and useless. It was too slow to fight in wars against missiles. It was too fast and high tech to fight against Vietnamese people in the jungle. It was only around a few years. As my Oregon Ducks have discovered, sexy and fast can only take you so far.
And that’s too bad.
I’m down to two Astronomy students. This makes my mornings easier, but less enjoyable, since I have to fill the non-student time with paperwork and meetings. We did take the spotter scope outside a couple days ago and projected the sun onto a piece of paper. The kids got to see a real live sunspot, with the penumbra and everything. Inside, the kids went to spaceweather.com and saw their sunspot as the NASA Solar Dynamics Observatory saw it.
They were suitably impressed. Then they asked if we could go back outside and set fire to the paper with the telescope. I said no.
I put off watching The Godfather for some reason. I finally got around to it eight or nine years ago.
From the first frame, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. The Godfather did run long—maybe that’s what had kept me from watching it in the first place. But when the movie was over, I went to the menu, turned on the director commentary, and immediately watched it all over again.
When will I learn? How many other great works of art have I avoided?