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Not much more to add than what’s already been archived on Reddit for the life of the Internet, but personally it pains me to corroborate that the 2-nonenal or 加齢臭 from our decaying heads does indeed serve as flypaper. It must’ve been so obvious while I swatted away and deluded myself into blaming the Mountain Dew.

Looks like it’s been more than a month since I toasted his departure with a revisit to They Live, which seems no more far-fetched as it was back then as things are now must’ve been. Confession: I was ambivalent of this film when it debuted, because as groundbreaking as I knew The Thing was even as a kid and as much as I may have enjoyed Big Trouble in Little China (although the latter is not quite as easy to return to), John Carpenter was surely stealing my earlier idea of an invaded Earth, the manuscript of which I recently unearthed. At least as far as I had gotten; the Gothic ball on my Selectric II must’ve given way by that last chapter, which would explain the abrupt change to Courier. My ending would’ve had the unfortunately-named protagonist uncover the secret conspiracy to control the destinies of our future leaders, only to be convinced by the aliens that we were all better off that way, anyway. It’s hardly remarkable, I admit, other than to show how much I owe Douglas Adams, but Henry’s treatment, wherever that went, could definitely be considered a progenitor of the modern graphic novel.

Even as a kid I thought Luke Skywalker was undeserving of his heroic status (he just happened to have the coolest dad ever, after all), but we’re both old as fuck now, and I like that he no longer seems to give any. His return to the Flash TV show was brilliantly handled, he’s all “I’m telling you, it’s just a movie” about this new Star Wars crap, and it’s a given he’ll be voicing The Killing Joke as a final bow. If not for Blade Runner—because really, Harrison Ford played the same melancholic character for the rest of his successful career after he got too long in the tooth for Indiana Jones—I’d say he finally outdid the more popular Han Solo! Most my preoccupation lately appears to be with the past (though don’t get me wrong, I am trying to keep things in perspective for future generations… as if there will ever be a band again who’ll make better tracks than “Over the Hills and Far Away”); I loaded a different playlist for my new nano, and the ending theme to Buckaroo Banzai reminded me how much more I liked that movie than, say, the Avengers. The other day I read about the creator of Hawk the Slayer crowdfunding a sequel, so I braced myself for the nostalgia with another low-seeded torrent, only to remember that it had only been six years since I revisited it on Netflix.

I really ought to have bookended each binged season of the universally lauded series with an episode of Police Squad!, because then I might have made it through the last. Because the best way to get past the reality that human beings suck, and the world is run by the worst of us, is by laughing it off.

I wonder, was Peter Lupus’ Norberg character one of the first to be African-Americanized—Colbert’s definition of “blackwashing” probably doesn’t describe the same practice—for newer audiences, like the 2015 Johnny Storm, movie Ford Prefect, Iris West on the Flash and Will Smith as James West (and soon, Deadshot). If early cancellation also must befall Constantine, then I hope it follows the same course with a successful film trilogy. There are already Blacks in the cast, too.

Got them last night (late, as I’ve correlated) after realizing that I had seen “Hercules against the Mongols” before, and this moment in particular, when the titular character comes through for a hungry child:

An enterprising Reddit hacker hijacked the popular sub and spoiled much of the remaining season (had to double-check about Hot Pie, because if anything that was a squandered opportunity to bring up Lady Stoneheart instead), proving not only is it not what you know and others don’t, but what they don’t want to.

My son told me the other night that I’m his, which I’m hoping he’ll remember when he’s older and hanging out with little wieners called Milhouse instead.

…Unless he’s the Milhouse.

It’s not the gut-buster that alas, only Parks & Rec still is, but even Community (with or without Harmon) could learn a thing or two about craft from the design (and delivery) of this special season. Some jokes, like “bread from Olive Garden” work, and the rest earn a smirk, from, at least to me, the sheer ambition behind its conceit. And with each passing meh-mory I’m convinced, if there’s anything lacking these days keeping us from lasting epics, it’s the ambition to make them.

The latest chapter of my past-blasting, courtesy of 남재’s Demonoid booty. All the Tom Baker Doctor Who’s are almost done (although I’d rather someone upload the Peter Davison era, so I can save myself from one day having to reunite with my beloved Tegan on VHS), Community recently reminded me of missed opportunities on the 90’s dance floor, and surely holding this in my hands again will force me back through time. Or into an institution.

I had forgotten how each year they’d introduce only a few new episodes with revamped opening sequences, then soon enough one Saturday morning you’d start seeing reruns from previous seasons. And you would think that with that many names in the credits, someone could’ve come up with more memorable stories, though that alternate universe one where the Superfriends were evil did get to me at an early age. They were going back to clean it up, but never showed it! Oh, and “Colossus”, the cosmic giant who flicked the Earth like a marble and then pocketed it; Apache Chief grew to the size of Jupiter and wrestled him in outer space while his duo partner, Superman, pushed the planet back into place. Madness. Total madness.