I was halfway through The Crown-Season One when I realized, I know that guy. That’s the Doctor! He’s disguised as Prince Phillip because he’s hiding from the Daleks and Cybermen while Winston Churchill tries to recover the Tardis from the 3rd rock from the sun. How did I not see it sooner?
I’ve been on the fence about whether I’m ready to crawl out from under my rock and get back into blogging daily about whatever random thing happens to be on my mind. I don’t feel ready. My long withdrawal has me feeling like I’m climbing a steep hill just to write this entry. Chances are, once I post the entry, I’ll then want to take it down and crawl back under my rock.
“So, Wob, how’s stuff?”
I’m glad you asked. Stuff has been, meh. Usually when people ask me that sort of question, including “How are you?” I just shrug because I don’t fucking know. I don’t like to say “Good!” unless it feels entirely true, and don’t like to say “Bad!” for the same reason. I’m usually in the middle of good and bad, But to say “In between” would just confuse people and to explain beyond that might get too wordy.
“Gweat! So, whatchu been up to, Wob?”
That’s an easier question to answer. I’ve been doing what I always do. Productivity is up. Been watching The Walking Dead on Sunday nights and I checked out the new series on AMC. The Terror. It’s interesting so far.
“What about Woseanne, huh? They webooted the show.”
I did watch Roseanne last night. Don’t really have any complaints, but I thought the actors were a little rusty. I don’t know what they’ve done since the shows first run ended in 1997, but I had the impression that it’s been a while since any of them had any major acting roles.
Roseanne was one of my favorite shows when I was growing up and I’m pleased that the show was rebooted. It’s like reconnecting with old friends after twenty years. I was surprised when I got on Facebook today and saw posts from left-leaning friends declaring their desire to not watch the show, because they don’t like Roseanne Barr’s positions on political and social issues.
I admit, I didn’t know about Roseanne Barr’s politics until I saw these posts. But after watching last night’s episodes, I thought it would be far right wingers voicing disgust about the show. It’s my understanding that it was Sara Gilbert who put the reboot together, not Roseanne Barr, and I’m under the impression that Gilbert is the one calling the shots, but I could be wrong.
“Wob, what about NCAA Basketball?”
I am following the Madness. Michigan’s in the Final Four, that game will be Saturday night. Very exciting. On the side, baseball is back. The Tigers just finished Spring Training and their first regular season game is tomorrow in Detroit at 1 PM, Vs the Pirates. But the Tigers have a new team this year and it might take time getting used to that.
I got a few different things on my mind tonight, so I’ll just mix it all in.
Sometimes people I know seem to analyze me and draw conclusions about me and my life. I know they mean well, but it really irritates me when people do that. I usually respond with fury. But today it occurred to me that I don’t have to get so goddamn mad every time, that there are better ways to respond to things like that.
I’m thinking about the Claire Fisher response. In the first season of Six Feet Under, Claire is having problems dealing with her dad’s death and she’s going down a destructive path, or that’s what her family believes. In one episode, Nate tells Claire that they’re going to get her some help. Without missing a beat, Claire tells Nate, “If you want a project, get a dog.”
Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll start telling people. But don’t count on me being able to pull it off much. I’m, regretfully, prone just blowing up.
I’m pretty open about things that I struggle with. Confidence, anxiety, anger, and number of other things. I got problems. I know this. But what bugs me is when we’re not even talking about anything that I struggle with and out of the blue someone draws a conclusion about some disorder they think I might have or something they think I need to do to make my life happier.
That really gets under my skin. And often their conclusions are way off. When people do that, I feel like I’m being analyzed for a diagnose and it makes me want to hold back when sharing anything with anyone.
But today, while talking to a friend about it, and being angry at the same time, I started thinking that maybe I don’t have to be so mad. I’d like to respond more kindly when people piss me off.
Okay, that out of the way.
My mom’s oldest brother Bobby was visiting from Pennsylvania. I see Bobby once every ten or fifteen years. When I got to mom and dad’s yesterday and walked in the door. Bobby was sitting at the bar (or island?). It was like I was seeing Grandpa Piehl. Bobby looks exactly like Grandpa. And they both have the same name, Robert.
Aunt Barb and cousin Kari were there too. Also, Bobby’s wife, who is also named Barb. I guess you could say I had two Aunt Barbs there. Later, Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Cindy came. Haven’t seen Jimmy and Cindy in a few years, I guess. They came on a motorcycle. I remember when I was a little kid, Uncle Jimmy was the biker in the family. That was a long time ago. I don’t know when he started riding again, but that’s a really nice motorcycle he has.
As usual, I didn’t talk much. But I did enjoy listening to my mom, dad and Uncle Bobby playing acoustic guitars on the back deck. I think my mom and Bobby are the only ones in their very large family who play music.
I saw this questionnaire on Facebook. Thought I’d fill it out.
Prop …. Huh?
Pets right now…. 2
Surgeries…. Five or six
Shot a gun…. Yes
Quit a job…. No
Ever been on tv… Yes
Been to an island…. I don’t think so
Flown in a plane…. Yes
Furthest destination.. Florida
Hit by a car.. No
Someone cried over you…Yes
Fallen in love.. Yes
Watched someone die…Yes
Watched someone give birth … No
Rode in an ambulance…I’m not sure
Visited Las Vegas…. No
Been ice skating…If you want to call it that
Rode a horse….. Yes
Been punched…. Yes
Stayed in a hospital…. Yes
Favourite fruit…Oranges, I think
Favourite desert…. Cheesecake
Favourite movie… The Bourne Identity
The Tigers beat the Rockies. 4-3. This dreadful season won’t last much longer. Let’s just see how many more games the Tigers can win this year.
Wish I had beer.
I’ve been depressed this week. Trying to snap out of it and get back into my normal routine. It still feels like there’s pins and needles stuck in my heart and I’m having a hard time motivating myself. I pretty much want to stay hidden, but at the same time I feel a need to stick my neck out again.
I went ahead and bought the second season of Six Feet Under last night and watched the first episode. It’s kind of neat how I’m remembering these episodes as if no time has passed since I last saw them in 2003. I wouldn’t mind going back to 2003. It was a good time. I was in a relationship with a woman I never got over.
I woke up this morning remembering something from my childhood. It was the last year that my brother Fred and I were on the Lapeer Steelers’ freshman team. This young, college-aged assistant coach, after speaking to the entire team, threw a football into the mud down the field.
I’m not positive that this is why it happened, but I had been under the impression that the assistant coach, after throwing the ball, told Fred to retrieve it, and then he told the rest of us to tackle Fred.
I’m not positive that those were the words the coach said. My deafness didn’t allow me to pick that up clearly. But the coach did say something after throwing the ball and Fred went to get it. Then the coach said something else and the entire team went after Fred.
I trailed behind the charging team, uncertain of what was going on. I watched the dog pile grow as thirty to forty guys jumped into it. I think I added my weight to the pile, though by the time I got there, the pile was so high that I couldn’t do much more than lean against it.
And then I heard Fred yelling. I knew it was him and his yelling was a terrifying sound. I realized what was happening. In a minute the coaches were there pulling everyone off. When the last guy was pulled off, Fred was lying face down in the mud. I remember sitting beside him while everyone else took off to run a few laps as punishment. But then I got up to run the laps too. Not sure if someone told me to or if I just thought I was supposed to.
Normally when we ran laps, our running path was a simple triangle. We’d run down the field to this big tree near where the varsity practiced, turn and run past the J.V’s practice area to another big tree where the cheerleaders practiced, turn and make our way back to the freshman practice area.
But that time was real punishment. Instead of the normal triangle route, we were made to run along the outside of the entire field. Our practice field was a big park, surrounded by hills and a creek on one side.
Here’s a Google Earth screenshot of the field. Looks like they cut down a lot of the trees that used to be there.
We had to run along the outside of the field three times. When we finished our laps, Fred was sitting on the picnic table recovering from nearly being killed by the entire freshman team. But then, one of the coaches made him run the laps that the rest of us had just finished.
That was a bad year to be on the Lapeer Steelers’ freshman team. The years before that, Delbert Anderson was the head coach. Delbert was a good coach and a true role model, and the assistant coaches were all good guys. My dad was one of the assistant coaches.
But that last year that Fred and I were on the freshman team, Delbert Anderson and the other coaches from the past years had moved up to coach the J.V.. Several of the new coaches were stupid assholes, true posers putting on some pretentious military-wannabe act.
My dad was one of the defense coaches that year, but he usually arrived late because of his job. He worked as a painter at an auto body shop in Rochester. I imagine if my dad had been there when that thing happened to Fred, he would have beat the shit out of the assistant coach who set it into motion.
I keep thinking about that episode of the Sopranos where Tony and Carmela are insulted by their next door neighbors. Later, Tony is filling a box with sand and Carmela asks what he’s doing. Tony explains that he’s fucking with the neighbors. Carmela says she wants in on it.
Tony takes the box over and frightens the neighbor into “holding” it for him. The episode ends with the neighbors looking at the box. The husband tells the wife not to touch it because he’s afraid it might be a bomb or something.
Do not start the Netflix original series “Santa Clarita Diet”, which stars Drew Barrymore and Timothy Olyphant. I repeat, do not start this series. It is highly addictive and you will be hooked.
Santa Clarita Diet is outrageously hilarious gore. You will laugh and you will be shocked. Once you start this series, you will be unable to get away from it. You will watch one episode after another.
You have been warned.
The Walking Dead is on break and won’t be back until February. If the Walkers aren’t infesting my TV, they’re infesting my dreams. Since the latest episode, I’ve had two dreams that featured Walkers.
Last night, I escaped a town that was overrun by Walkers. I had a bolt-action rifle, but only four bullets. I outran the group of Walkers that was chasing me and found myself in an empty barnyard.
Or I thought it was empty. I stepped on a tripwire and Walkers began coming from every direction. I fired my rifle until it was empty and had to use the rifle as a club to fight my way through the herd.
I made it through without getting bit, but soon stepped on another tripwire that somehow (I don’t know how) attracted more Walkers.
There were too many. They closed in around me and I woke up.
It was fun.
In last night’s episode of The Walking Dead, Rick and Aaron cross a zombie infested river and reach the boat on the far bank. There they find loads of shit. Food, guns and other supplies.
Meanwhile, Daryl makes his great escape. While reclaiming the motorcycle that is rightfully his, he is confronted by one of Negan’s men. Though the guy acts all nice, Daryl is having none of it. Daryl beats the asshole to death with a rod and discovers the asshole was carrying Rick’s Colt Python.
Rick and Aaron make it back to town to find Negan’s crew waiting for them. Of course, all the stuff they had just collected is claimed by Negan. In the town center, Negan kills two more people and takes Eugene away.
This is when Rick decides he’s had enough of Negan. In the end, Rick and other members of his group arrive at Hilltop and Rick tells Maggie that she was right, they need to fight Negan. Then Daryl shows up and hands Rick his Python like it’s a warrior’s great sword.
That completes the first half of this season. The second half will start in February. What will happen then? I expect the whole second half will be war.
Who will die?
On last night’s episode of The Walking Dead, Negan turned up at the town gate with his barbed wire baseball bat and a bunch of assholes. I don’t like Negan, he’s a shit sickle. You know what he did last night? He threatened to kill Judith if Rick didn’t turn over all the guns that the town had listed. Two of the guns on the list were missing and Negan wanted them found.
How about that? Negan had the right idea there. If you want to control people, the best thing to do is disarm them. And oops, if Rick’s town hadn’t been keeping a list of all the guns, Negan wouldn’t have known how many there were and some of the guns could have remained hidden.
Well, Rick was tempted to bash Negan’s head in, but he didn’t. If Negan was cut down, though, I wager his herd of sheep wouldn’t hold together so well. So, really, Rick needs to grow his balls back and bash Negan’s head in.
It’ll probably happen later in the season, but how many will die before it does?
I’m guessing everyone saw last night’s episode of The Walking Dead. We finally got our answer on which one Negan killed, or rather which two.
It was Abraham Negan chose, but after Abraham, he decided to go after Glenn too. So, two popular characters are now gone.
Damn. Glenn had been there since the beginning of the series. Seems like there were a few different times when we thought Glenn was a goner, and yet, somehow he always managed to get through.
Unless Glenn tucked his head into his shirt while Negan was swinging the bat down on him, I’m pretty sure he’s gone this time.
Glenn, the guy who had nine lives. He’ll be missed.
And Abraham, the big dude who’d been onboard the last couple seasons, will also be missed.