Gather near once again for another round of pics
Thus far in our journey, we’re still on Day Six
After walking through Salem we headed straight west
For one final stop in this state for our quest
In Springfield (one of many) was our next fun attraction
Past construction and street mazes, quite the distraction
Did Springfield not want us there? Too bad, ’twas no use
We braved all in the name of a man they call Seuss!
At age 16 the thought of a part-time after-school job never occurred to me until I received a letter one day from a man named David Sleppy, owner/operator of the McDonald’s down the street from my high school. His store had launched a new recruitment program that offered a higher starting wage to applicants who were on the school’s honor roll — $3.85/hour at a time when minimum wage was $3.35/hour. As an introverted, insular kid with no self-awareness and minimal exposure to social worlds beyond my own limited boundaries, it wasn’t tempting until I did the math and realized that $3.85/hour was greater than my $5/week allowance. I figured why not. And hey, the letter guaranteed the job. Back in those days, silver platters were my favorite way of receiving things.
Mom drove me down there the next day and I filled out an application, but left most of the blanks empty because I had no experience and no idea how to sell myself on qualities alone. I saw no blank that allowed me to describe myself as “smart” and “nice”. But it didn’t matter to me anyway. I had the letter.
When I handed it to the manager on duty, he said they’d keep it on file. He brusquely sent me on my way, despite the letter. I was crestfallen.
Later that same day, David called me personally and told me I was hired.
For me, that’s when life began.
Pictured above: the centerpiece from our table at my employer’s 2013 holiday party. This year’s shindig was held at a different venue than last year’s and consequently had different decor. Longtime MCC readers may recall last year my wife and I passed the time while waiting for door prize drawings by taking still life photos using any and all objects within reach.
I spent a lot of time this year staring into that centerpiece while life and partying went on around me.
Disney Princesses beware: here comes Elsa, Disney Queen.
I wish I were kidding. Part of this illuminating interview has been helpfully transcribed for the podcast-reluctant. Nothing short of jaw-dropping.
Such a shame, then, to see Walt Disney Pictures fly in the face of Cartoon Network programming logic and gamble on a theatrical release like the action-heavy Frozen, in which the humor isn’t locker-room crude, the animation sets new standards, and the main characters are two sisters who pass the Bechdel Test cum laude. Sure, it’s quality entertainment, but if the girl power in a cartoon overwhelms the manpower, why even bother? This cartoon chick flick will be lucky to make more than twenty bucks at the box office. And you can forget about merchandising sales.
…oh, wait. As of its fourth weekend, the movie’s cleared $160 million domestic so far, and it’s still in the #2 box office spot and barely slowing down. How’d that happen? Conspiracy, maybe?
Tonight’s very special outing was a historic first: I attended my very first Indiana Pacers game. The average 41-year-old Hoosier has already attended dozens of Pacers games in their lifetime. I, one among the single-digit minority statewide that doesn’t yearn for sports, never had the opportunity before. Tonight’s deal was irresistible, though: thirteen bucks bought us the cheapest seats possible at Bankers Life Fieldhouse, in the upper atmosphere where oxygen can’t reach and you can hear the sound of harps and gently flapping wings behind you. For this one-time special ticket offer, they also threw in a free T-shirt (none in my current size), free hot dog (large enough for a kid), bag of chips, and soft drink.
My wife and I are of one mind when it comes to sports: we’re not huge fans, but why not anyway. More quality time for us to spend together, and we were treated to new sights, such as the scenic Fieldhouse going rave-tastic with a pregame light show.
Bruce Willis. Guns. Fake snow. Yep, it was that time again.
Sadly, I never see anyone show any Christmas love for Die Hard 2: Die Harder, which may be one of the two best films of director Renny Harlin’s career and is set entirely on Christmas Eve. Sure, its older brother hogs all the glory as the Greatest Action Film of All Time according to me and occasionally polls, but if you watch too closely and never mind the unfair comparisons to the One That Started It All, you’ll notice it has all the necessary elements of a basic Christmas movie, not to mention a few reminders of Christmas with your own family.
Where’s the Christmas in Die Hard 2? Count the ways:
* Snow! Die Hard had no snow. None. Not a flake. It was set in L.A., which has no snow because it hates Christmas. Die Hard 2 is set in Washington D.C., where snow is everywhere, even though most of it is fake movie snow that would make decent pillow stuffing. Even fake snow has more of a right to be in a Christmas movie than palm trees do.
Once again it’s that time of year when Christmas pervades our thoughts and retailers, when we have hard decisions to make about which relatives and friends deserve free tokens of affection or obligation, when our diets are at their most compromised, and when every family or circle remotely connected to us tries to fill up our December calendar page with nonstop, wall-to-wall action and excitement.
Wait, no. They just want everyone who meets their invitation criteria to get together, eat a meal in the same room at the same time, and check off the item on the holiday to-do list that reads “mandatory visiting”. Action and excitement are optional. Too, too optional. Sometimes it’s best not to ask about presents, either.
Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:
Day Six…we drove northeast through a maze of highways and disorganized side streets to world-famous Salem, listed in our American history books as a site known for famous trials of considerable controversy. The town’s official tourism literature swears there’s more to Salem than just witches. During our research I got the impression that certain local parties were sick and tired of the whole “witch” debacle and wanted to put it behind them forever.
And yet, certain other residents don’t shy away from witchery tourism. A few revel in it. It’s kind of everywhere. The most expensive example is this $75,000.00 tribute to Samantha Stevens, the heroine from TV’s Bewitched. It was a gift from the folks at TV Land, the same basic-cable channel that’s responsible for several other TV-based statues nationwide. (Our family has also seen Mary Tyler Moore in downtown Minneapolis, Ralph Kramden at Manhattan’s Port Authority, and Bob Newhart at Chicago’s Navy Pier.)
Henry Parrish looks at Rupert Giles and laughs, “Now THIS is a reference book!”
For those who missed out, my attempt to streamline the basic events follows after this courtesy spoiler alert for the sake of time-shifted viewers.
…
Katniss and Peeta practice their strained banter for their next gig hosting the PanEm Oscars.
Continue here as The MAN tries to extinguish the Girl on Fire…
Day Six or our annual road trip would be our final day in Massachusetts. Though we’d run out of exploration time for Boston, we had two more cities to visit before crossing the state border. After checking out from the our roundhouse hotel that morning, we drove northeast through a maze of highways and disorganized side streets to world-famous Salem, listed in our American history books as a site known for famous trials of considerable controversy. The town’s official tourism literature swears there’s more to Salem than just witches. During our research I got the impression that certain local parties were sick and tired of the whole “witch” debacle and wanted to put it behind them forever. Hard to blame them, all things considered.
To their credit, Salem wasn’t a dull place to wander. Their public parking is affordable, a few local establishments are famous for solid non-witch-based reasons, and public art abounds on every other street corner. A fair number of citizens have done their best to evoke anything but witchcraft and needless executions.
Time travel, for example. Witches don’t do that. Not often, anyway. If they made a habit of time travel, one or more witches surely would have irrevocably tampered with Salem’s history by now and we would all find “witch trials” to be a very confusing word pairing.
For me, Wonder Woman’s golden age began in 1985. Artist/co-writer George Perez autographed my battered old copy of that year’s WW #1 at the 2012 Superman Celebration in Metropolis.
Warner Brothers confirmed on the record today that the long-neglected Wonder Woman will be featured in a live-action theatrical release for the first time in her 72-year history, and her first live-action non-bootlegged role in 34 years. This potentially historical part has been awarded to Israeli actress Gal Gadot, who was a complete unknown to me before today, though I understand she’s a regular in the Fast and the Furious series. For longtime fans who’ve been wanting to see our legendary Princess Diana on the big screen, your wish is about to be granted.
One catch: she’s not yet earned a film to have all to herself. Instead she’ll be a supporting character in Zack Snyder’s Batman vs. Superman crossover.
…thank you? I’m not required to treasure it always, am I?
In my mind, an effective calendar needs to contain enough artistic merit that I’ll want it in my presence for twelve straight months. It helps if its content is somehow related to any of my interests at all. Free calendars, which are nearly always a promotional giveaway in honor of someone’s product that I’m probably not buying, are not consequently never my thing. Exhibit A: the example shown above, which landed in our mailbox today as a token of good will from representatives of certain non-renewable energy concerns. Because all my friends know my name is synonymous with “geek pipeline safety”.
If Daryl Dixon ever dies, your dreams of a spoiler-free Sunday evening will be beyond laughable.
Of those three fan divisions, it’s my belief that the most stressed-out and in need of help is Group 1.
Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: photos and notes from this year’s Starbase Indy, an annual Indianapolis sci-fi convention my wife and I rather enjoy. Last time we showed you the costumes: this time, the guests.
The headliners: two main cast members from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. At far left: Armin Shimerman, who played Quark, the devious Ferengi bartender. At far right: Rene Auberjonois, who played Odo, Changeling security head. If your TV experiences resemble mine, you’ll also know them as Principal Snyder from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Clayton Endicott III from the old sitcom Benson.
On this weekend in 1988, the inaugural Starbase Indy introduced Indianapolis to the amazing world of Star Trek conventions. Though it later expanded its purview to include other sci-fi TV shows, and was in limbo for a few years during a dark era (long story), its current owners and staffers have spent the last ten years valiantly returning to its glory days and rebalancing the original confluence of actor appearances, hobbyist events, and fan participation/interaction. For local geeks such as my wife and myself, it’s a regular highlight of our average Thanksgiving weekend, more fun and with far fewer confirmed fatalities than Black Friday.
2013 marks SBI’s eighteenth iteration and its twenty-fifth anniversary (for the asynchronous discrepancy I again point you to “long story”), but shows no signs of deterioration. If anything, this was the most efficient SBI yet — speedy photo op lines, gregarious guests all happy to be here, multiple events requiring more room space than usual, wider snack selection in the Con Suite. Best of all: two of the headliners were main cast members from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, the greatest Trek series of all time in our household.
Naturally there were also costumes. Apropos of our ongoing TV marathon (as previously mentioned), we had to mark the occasion by meeting a Doctor.
Last Christmas season on Midlife Crisis Crossover:
Black Friday is my annual one-man road trip. I pick one side of Indianapolis; I hit the open road in that direction, leaving family and friends behind; and I enjoy some time alone. Sure, to the average human, rushing headlong into frenzied crowds may sound like the stupidest strategy to achieve solitude. For an introvert like me who draws very little attention and rarely inspires conversation from strangers, it works surprisingly well.
Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to expect this year. I kept my expectations near zero and remained open to the possibility that I might come home empty-handed and down in the dumps. I worried that so many stores opening the evening before would serve to put the “lack” in “Black Friday”. Would all the suspiciously priced sale items be sold out? Would all the store shelves and displays be barren, their wares looted by the Blackest Thursday stampedes? Would the stores themselves still be standing, or collapsed from the wear and tear of consumer shootouts larger and grander than the Battle of Helm’s Deep?
A few stores failed me, but I’m pleased that a few locations catered to my modest whims. Per my personal standards, my trip only lasted from 8 a.m. to noon., at which point I promptly pulled the plug and went straight home. Firm boundaries are a key component of effective self-restraint.
Thanksgiving success / is measured by the lack of / pretty leftovers. [Source: file photo from / our two thousand eleven / meal to end all meals.]
Just because I can
Write a Thanksgiving haiku
Clearly means I should
Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:
After spending the first half of Day Five on the Hyannis Whale Watcher Cruise, we headed back west toward our Boston hotel, but with one more stopover in mind along the way: the town of Plymouth, location of the celebrated area where those stalwart adventurers known in American textbooks as the Pilgrims settled in 1620, established a new life apart from the Church of England, and invented the Thanksgiving holiday that large American department stores have all but abolished.
Plymouth’s star attraction is, of course, one of the most famous pebbles in America: Plymouth Rock. Legend and history share billing in its tale, but contemporary sources corroborated the age of the designated Rock, which dates back to at least the 1770s, if not quite to the original walking path of the Pilgrims themselves. Either way it’s certifiably centuries older than we are.
Only one network show is daring enough to bring you a haunted-house episode for Thanksgiving. (No, not Hawaii Five-0.)
For those who missed out, my attempt to streamline the basic events follows after this courtesy spoiler alert for the sake of time-shifted viewers.
…
