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I woke up the other night and decided to read up on the Pussycats, having largely parted ways with them after disappointing revival attempts at the turn of the century. Their Wiki mentions a compilation from Rhino in 2001, but the one I got was issued a few years before, and neither had “Clock on the Wall”, anyway, which may have turned me off most of all.The 2020 Blu-Ray remaster looks crisp like my OTA VHS recordings aren’t (despite using SP mode!), and even while I was making them I knew it was too late for that idyllic spirit of adventure they depicted, it could still await my next of kin.

Sexagenarian series seems only good for reminding us how old we are anymore, what with all there being to the new stories hyperkinetic visuals and characters who run around trying to explain them, surely not the stuff of later fan service …Of course I’m being a hypocrite, as I’ve criticized the lackluster serials during Janet Fielding’s tenure, even if it was very nice of them to bring her and her Doctor back for their latest Master+Daleks+Cybermen+kitchen sink special. Honestly, Baker’s including “The Invasion of Time” and afterward were hardly memorable, either, so maybe it was a drop in quality that accompanied the end of the seventies among many peaking creatives; see also Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd.

In retrospect it may not amount to much, but there was at least some progress from the Killing Eve remake where the queers were relegated to supporting characters then letting them be the leads, if only “coded” as such and surrounded by the most extreme examples of the opposite sex.

Reminder to look into this idea-realizing product next year.

I don’t think the folks at Arrow really did much to improve the picture quality over the early 2000’s Celestial remaster of the abominable HK cut, whose nonsensical editing (like that whole minute of Taiwanese schoolkids to close out the movie) makes me glad that at least with respect to co-existing versions of Chinatown Kid, we grew up in the right timeline. Dedicated commentary, too, but I’m still baffled where the 13 Gigs went… I suppose that’s me being cheap with storage, hung up on an age when you had only 90 minutes for the good recording speed on L-750 tapes. No explanation for that “Yeah, great kungfu” delivery, either, even after reviewing the dubbing in Mandarin. And I wasn’t sure if I had called this out in the past, but the Porsche badges on those San Francisco cops who scare off one of Fu Sheng’s fights ominously foreshadow his own death.

A mainstay in my 5-disc changer, the one into which I painstakingly keyed so many titles for it to display throughout the early 90’s. Talk about life’s labor lost, I wonder if its onboard memory preserved them, or like my 100% Super Metroid save, they’re all but digital ghosts in broken-down machines, the precarious memories of yet another who is himself fast approaching the same state.

Showed the kid a recent (?) video of Jimmy Page, whose “Black Dog” he’d been playing, and he said he looks like Albert Einstein. Who slays.

Miserable start to this anniversary of that heinous revolt: I dreamed Six o’ One Patrick McGoohan and I were on the run and had only a small guardhouse to pass, so I let the champ sneak in and do his thing—only to find that he failed and was being held by a group of ruffians; it was Wild Wild James West who never lost a fight, after all. Their leader approached me with all the swagger his entourage afforded him and effortlessly caught my fist, mocking me. If only I could muster the strength to challenge his grip, but it would take longer than I had left, more confidence in myself to reign in my insecurities. Incompetent leadership at work got to me and my run didn’t make up for it, but by the end of the day I was chuckling at the sodium warning on Taco Bell’s new limited-time Crispy Chicken Wings (seasoned with “Mexican Queso”, for future reference).Napped during lunch and saw a passenger jet whose pilot the news said had successfully regained control of it to land intact; was more of a vertical drop out of the sky onto the runway in the near distance, but it didn’t go perfectly: as I looked closer, the plane’s body began twitching, as if it were going to explode. There were two young girls beside me and I pushed them to take cover from the blast behind a parked American sedan while the building wall kept me safe.

Just when I thought I was out of weekly TV to watch with the end of Inspector Koo, they pull me back in with the next season! It’s a short one, unfortunately, but then again I’m grateful they don’t drag out the painful reign of the Belter egomaniac between the larger threat beyond the gates. There’s always something, right? I’m reminded of times when this nearest of futures was uncertain, but not only do the content providers always manage to come through, somehow, more miraculously, one of their committee-driven products gets me.Novels had a satisfying finish, thanks Libby! (I’m reminded of blowing through the Ice and Fire books on the Kindle, but the OLED screen’s a vast improvement, as fond are my memories of that device. The service-free unlimited Internet was not long for this world.) Looking back at them I can see the story arcs comprising the narrative of a game it was originally intended, with the player as Holden. An MMO might have had to delve into the 30-year gap or extend the war between universes, but that ending was straight outta Final Fantasy, tentacles and all.