3:09 p.m. EDT: Darkened skies during the window of totality here in Indy.
First things first: no, we didn’t catch any super awesome photos of the total eclipse itself looking like a cosmic coffee ring or the old Armageddon teaser poster. 600 million Instagram users got you covered. You did check with them first, right?
Wile E. Coyote on Friday getting the news from his agent.
All weekend long, rational onlookers with any shred of goodness in their hearts have been outraged at the news that Warner Bros. Pictures pulled the plug on what would’ve been a new Looney Tunes feature, Coyote vs. Acme. After spending five years and $70 million on the project — which combined animation and live-action, and would’ve starred Wile E. Coyote, the Road Runner, and John Cena — the company announced in an incoherent statement that they plan to concentrate on making films and this film didn’t qualify as a film. Or something. For want of a credible explanation, we’re 105% certain it’s another soulless tax write-off situation. Several folks involved in the production — including its director Dave Green, the editor, the composer, and the practical effects teams — have been sounding off about their collective heartbreak on social media and sharing tidbits from their work-spaces as evidence of What Might Have Been.
As usual, though, no one thinks of the billionaires. Sure, this act destroys WB’s integrity and signals to any and all actors and filmmakers that they have absolutely no reason to trust them as an employer ever again. Sure, audiences have no guarantee that they won’t give the same destructive treatment to other allegedly upcoming films like Dune: Part Two or the Joker sequel. Sure, this sends a heavy-handed message to James Gunn that they could do to Superman: Legacy what they did to Batgirl if he fails to satisfy their capricious whims. But wait! What if their boneheaded, pocket-lining, dismissive act of anti-art cruelty and complete waste of everyone’s creative efforts were remotely justifiable in any way to us, the non-lobotomized Viewers at Home? And what if they’re just too shy to be honest with us?
From the Home Office in Indianapolis, IN: Top 10 Reasons Why Warner Brothers Canceled “Coyote vs. Acme”:
Any resemblance between my Daredevil T-shirt and the Doomsday Clock, or any significance of placing my free “I Voted!” sticker at five minutes till, are largely incidental.
Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: I do the democracy thing twice a year (yes, even primaries) because I believe I ought to and because they keep letting me. I don’t recall why I didn’t post about it last year. Maybe society was to blame? Or maybe the reason was so dumb that I was counting on my aging brain to forget the reason why, just so I couldn’t blame myself for not writing about it I can’t recall, so maybe Past-Me’s plan worked. Politicians prefer long-term memory loss in their constituents anyway, so really this is just my brain getting into the spirit of the occasion.
Lead photo by my wife Anne, who got wind of the event before I did.
I nearly called this “The Day They Nuked Walmart”, but that’s even less accurate and I’m told this isn’t a great moment in history to joke about nukes. One day nuke jokes shall make a comeback, possibly on my watch but not necessarily today.
What were we talking about? Oh, right, I didn’t mention it yet:
“…but we might have some toilet paper and Clorox wipes left, if you ask nicely.”
“COVID-19 VACCINE NOT YET AVAILABLE” read the dual MS Word signs that have been hanging on the doors of our local Walgreens for at least a week, possibly longer. I can only imagine the conversation that sparked them, probably held a thousand times daily:
Yes, it’s early, but hey, free speech.
This afternoon of November 7th, the Lord has blessed Indianapolis with 72 degrees of bright warmth in defiance of humanity’s calendar. Anne and I enjoy a sunny walk through a day that could have been darker like others around it.
Bobby Newport: the kind of simpleton America needs now more than ever. Or at least thinks it needs.
It’s that time again! Election Day is nigh, which might need to be mentioned to anyone outside America who was wondering why everything American and online intensified above and beyond our average 2020 levels of hysteria over the past few days. Whatever happens Tuesday and over the next several days as election staffers count ballots cast across a multitude of platforms and processes, America guarantees we won’t be dull to watch. Outsiders looking in may find themselves worn down by our emphatic, repetitive displays of all our worst concerns, fears, prejudices. and fiercest histrionics. If you stay tuned, we’ll have some cool toy commercials coming right up, we swear.
What’s missing from this picture? The answers may not surprise you!
Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: once upon a time I used to go to the movies a bit too often and write about my experiences. In 2020 I managed to catch Birds of Prey, The Invisible Man, and Onward on the big screen before the Age of Coronavirus slammed the doors shut on that hobby for the foreseeable future. On a related note, next January’s “Best and Worst Movies of the Year” entry should take me far less time to write than usual.
Me sporting a brand new Marvel Super-Heroes mask in a pandemic-era downtown parking garage as gray and uncaring as the year 2020 itself.
Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: it’s been over five months since I posted photos of my initial masking possibilities for navigating our broken pandemic world. At the time, masks weren’t yet mandated by state or city ordinances. They were simply among the best ideas for reducing your chances of catching The Virus, besides simply quarantining at home and bricking over all your doors and windows from the inside like a reverse “Cask of Amontillado”.
The formerly real Wizard World Chicago 2020 guest list, still happening this weekend in a much brighter timeline.
August has never been my favorite month under ordinary circumstances. Comics creator Evan Dorkin recently and accurately captured the essence in describing every August as “31 hot Sundays in a row”. Perfect description.
August has no major holidays and no whimsical minor holidays apart from fake internet ones. (I once created my own party-a-day August calendar, but no one supported this ambitious and deeply time-wasting endeavor.) Nearly all our local schools reopen, which means more traffic clogging up my daily commute. Temperatures soar to unpleasant levels. TV networks continue airing dross until the fall season’s starter pistol is fired. Movie studios run out of highly excitedly anticipated blockbusters and fill out their slates with second-tier products that should’ve gone straight to home video. Augusts would be a total waste of calendar space if not for the events humankind created to pass the time until September at least does us the kindness of bringing our next federally sanctioned three-day weekend.
Leave it to 2020, which is less like a year and more like a nonstop acid-rain thunderstorm over a minefield cursed by a cackling witches’ coven, to lay waste to any and all potential August plans and make the worst month even worst-er.
Midlife Crisis Crossover! 