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As much as I enjoyed the HBO series, the books (I’ve Kindled the fifth, no less) have been a disappointment. I read them as spoilers more than anything, but if the following seasons are paced like this, author George R.R. Martin might have to take back what he said about Lost. Using the word “fuck” as an adverb is inexcusable for a Tolkien—and seeing Monty Python in so-called high fantasy is like Wayne’s World in myth—and only adds to my growing realization that the best of all things is behind us.

It’s what they’ve started calling them in this blog, and it’s sadly true. I gripe less about the “animation”, of course, than the writing, and in fact one of my favorite frames from the show is a very zombie-like Homer:

Struck me again while browsing the menu for the first disc of Larry David’s last (but not last) season that I didn’t like it very much.  The show’s development almost mirrors House’s, doesn’t it: Cheryl leaves him as abruptly as Kutner did, and the show wraps up (rather poignantly, I felt) with the Blacks; maybe it should’ve just ended there, too.  But no, Loretta’s written out like so much Seinfeld Susan—with cancer, no less—and while there’s some funny, e.g., “Denise Handicapped”, the rest of the arc is disappointing. So I’m a killjoy’s killjoy.

Probably ought to choose my words carefully this time, lest I eat my hat again and upgrade, but as much as the new design harks back to my T610, I’ve learned my lesson about two-year contracts amidst product cycles half that (and how they’re even worse if you sign up like I did, six months into one). Plus, jailbreaking has brought new purpose back to my antiquated 3G—to squeeze as much tethering bandwidth out of AT&T before I ditch them come January. In this sense at least, the phone’s only as good as the carrier, and their new plan, which actually lowers the monthly cap while adding an extra $20 to the bill, sounds to me like a step or two backwards. Gimme another Pearl.

Still waiting for this theme song to be played over the end credits, because that’s the sort of thing fans’ll eat up.阿嬤 didn’t seem to mind watching the boy for an unprecedented three hours, so we decided to wait on the next show at the mall. Summer’s growing ever so dumber, a new element with just the right shininess to solve RDJ’s latest tragedy is synthesized from a “puzzle” that’d been staring at him his whole life, the celebrity superhero addition with her own 7-Eleven cup only gets to show off on security guards and when my drink condenses, and an enemy who’s got your number all along forgets you can fly away from a self-destruct sequence. There’s not even any traffic stoppage on the freeway after a NYC suburb is turned into a war zone. So yeah, not quite a III (X-Men, Spider-man, Godfather), but no way a II (The Dark Knight, Empire, Led Zeppelin). At least it wasn’t Sex in the City 2.

Wrapped up Felicia Day’s series this past weekend (and most of season 2 of 30 Rock), and while I appreciated the aspects I knew to be true about the MMOG scene, e.g., the inattentive parent, RL hook-ups, those were exhausted by the second 5 minutes and the rest deteriorated into sitcom mediocrity. I was really hoping for some any precious in-game moments, which might’ve elevated it beyond this trapping of so-called cult fare; for instance, her final out-of-body escape ought instead have been a transformation into her virtual avatar.

Speaking of which, I got my first Bismarck pearl a week ago, from the wonderfully-named “FinalFantasyRejects” (none of whom noticed my acrostic post), and did some—cringe—sky farming with them, as well as a Limbus last night. Never was much of an overachiever. But felt quite nice, actually, playing Monk after so many weeks on Bard duty for the mighty Lunarians.

You don’t have to live in NYC to bitch about movie ticket prices; Memorial Day we walked away from an $11.75 non-matinee fare—and that was with the intent to theater-hop. Nowadays only Costco’s 2-fer-$14.99 certificates (which, incidentally, are not good in Manhattan) make me not regret waiting and just buying the DVD. Almost.

I lost interest in Wall-E after the first fifteen or twenty minutes, which were beautiful, mind you, but that didn’t happen during Up. Internet’s Green Lantern Nathan Fillion on Twitter: “Robot test #12: Go see Pixar’s UP. If your date doesn’t cry, robot.” My favorite scene was with the dogs playing poker. And recreating Star Wars, that was my favorite scene, too.

Abrams’ Trek …sorta suffered from the scheduling. Our butts were only gonna hold up for so long without the chiropractic. All of maybe ten people were with us, and who knows what they snuck in after. Felt like they spliced together the most action-packed scenes from the old films, and the rest was name-dropping. 60’s Uhura was way sexier. And seeing your world destroyed by a time-travelling menace can’t possibly mean that much when it’s such a series staple. After all, a mere farmer was able to cause this mess; why couldn’t someone else just as easily go back (or forward, whatever) and fix it? Arguably he wouldn’t even have to, since the villain’s from the future, anyway. Zip on over to present-day Romulus and prevent his grandparents from hooking up. I’m arguing this why?