Make sure you turn on the sound when you check out this bizarre thriller. The music just adds to the sinister ambience. Much like the video itself, it’s seemingly cute — but laced with menance.

Here are twenty obsolete words that should make a comeback.

However, for the lack of one of my favorite antideluvian words, I must contemn this list.

Demonstrating again the overwhelming power of the belly rub.

I just spent another frustrating 30 minutes trying to find a room for this year’s Comic-Con. Yes, it’s four-and-a-half months away, and there’s nothing available. The only — only — hotel I can find with any available room for four nights is seven miles from the convention and not on the shuttle route. What this would mean: a minimum 30-minute drive each way, crawling through blocked streets, to get to the Con. I may have to take it. The catch: They also want it paid in advance.

After attending this convention for 26 years, I was feeling pretty crummy about this situation. For years and years, my friends and I were able to book a suite with no problem — and we were being extra-considerate of the needs of others by stuffing seven guys into that one room. I have to admit to thinking that we deserved some sort of special consideration after the, well, billions of dollars we’ve dropped in San Diego over the years. The sequester is nothing compared to the impact of pulling us out of the San Diego economy. But then I found out that Len Wein couldn’t get a room. If the co-creator of Wolverine, Swamp Thing, the Human Target, Nightcrawler and Storm can’t get a room, who am I to complain?

What did I do in similar situations when I was a teenager? Just sleep on the floor through the all-night movie screenings. But now they come and roust you. At this point, I’d settle for a stable.

File this under “shoot me first”: Here’s your chance to see the band Yes perform not one, not two, but three of their incredibly tedious, wandering, and self-indulgent albums, all in one night. Their lead singer (replacement for Jon Anderson): the leader singer in a Yes tribute band. This will make for their second lead singer drafted form a Yes tribute band.

I saw this band last year (with the previous tribute-band-singer) and feared mightily for the health and well-being of drummer Alan White, who looked to be in serious need of immediate medical attention. I said to that to my friend, but she was more concerned about another member she felt “looks like he’s at death’s door.” I’m not saying they’re bad because they’re old — the Beach Boys are older, but they were terrific in concert last year — I’m saying they seemed sick. And bad. And boring.

Tonight was a workout night: My kids were at karate, while I went to the gym. They practiced beating people up, while I metaphorically rowed across the English Channel.

When I picked them up, the discussion in the car was colorful.

My 10-year-old played around on my iPad, exploring Google Earth. “Hey, I found St. Joe’s!” he exclaimed. (His mother works at Providence St. Joseph Medical Center, aka “St. Joe’s.”) “Look!” he said. When we got to a red light, I looked at the screen and saw California. “That says ‘San Jose,’ ” I said. (Note to his teacher: A little more reading comprehension, and a little more geography, please.)

We made a left and passed in front of a McDonald’s. My high-school-age daughter said, “It’s McDonald’s that has the pink slime, and Burger King that has the horse meat, right?”

I had nothing to top that with. But I did relish it.

Thought I’d share this. The shot above is of the sinkhole in Florida that consumed a man five days ago.

Sinkholes are evidently more common than I thought — as you can can see in this slideshow of the most alarming examples in recent years.

I remember the one that opened about 20 years ago here in Los Angeles on Vermont Avenue. The cause? Construction of the Red Line subway system. And I remember a narrow but deep chasm that opened in my back yard following the 1994; it was eerie looking into the inner workings of the earth. My then 3-year-old son was pretty shaken by that. He wasn’t alone.

Glad I saw The Beach Boys last year when I had the chance (and in one of the flat-out best shows I’ve ever seen), because now Brian Wilson is saying sail on, sailor, to the notion of the band ever getting together again. Wilson made the announcement last night while accepting a Grammy for the band’s work last year, announcing the end of reunions.

At one point, I would have been glad for that, because the thing touring the U.S. as “The Beach Boys Band” is in no way The Beach Boys — it’s Mike Love, Bruce Johnston, and some other guys, with nary a Wilson brother in site. (Let alone founding members Al Jardine or David Marks.) But last year’s tour, and the accompanying album of new music, were surprisingly strong. Now, though, there are no good vibrations left among the true Beach Boys. The 2012 outing will be their last, and That’s Why God Made the Radio will remain their career-capping recording. But don’t worry, baby, there’s a lot of great music still out there, and a fine legacy to look back on.

Surf’s up.

Here’s my friend Gwydion Suilebhan with thoughts on how the arts can extend their influence (and their shelf life) by recognizing how much arts consumption has changed.

Joe Stafford. A man of taste.

(I didn’t say good taste.)

Is this a vision of those boys’ future?