If you guessed, “Because Lee had more dental work today,” you win. When will it end? Well, when is the apocalypse? Because I think I’m scheduled through the week after.

While we wait for me to re-gather my thoughts — tomorrow, or who knows when? — I did want to post something here before trundling off to bed with another glass of wine and a revolver. So here are a few topics I might have written about otherwise:

• I was able to get tickets for TV On the Radio on April 14th at the Glass House in Pomona. It doesn’t make up for the toothaches or teethache or whatever. But it’s definitely something to live for. Last time I saw the band they were the worst live act I’ve seen since an overweight elderly “model” performed her special magic at a bachelor party in 1987. The recorded music of TV On the Radio is terrific, and I’m hoping they’ve improved on stage. (And that I never again see said “model.”)
• Yesterday I went to a ceremony where 2,000 people were freshly minted as Americans. That I will be writing about. And supplying photographs of many people waving flags. I got choked up. A woman near me cried.
• My wife got five roundtrip tickets from Burbank to New York so cheap I’m sure we’ll find out we have to serve drinks on the flight. (So yes, if you’re in New York, New Jersey, or Philadelphia, we’re coming to visit in June.)
• I was asked to return as emcee for the 2nd (un)Annual BLLOTY Awards in the fall. Last time the honoree was Stephanie Miller and her cohorts. More to come.
• Every time I go to the Magic Castle in Hollywood, I see someone notable in the audience. One time, shortly before a lion tried to “help Roy off the stage,” Siegfried and Roy sat down in the seats next to my wife and me (and she didn’t know who they were). This time, it was Lord British, recently returned from his trip to outer space aboard a Russian spacecraft, which cost him about $30 million more than my wife paid for those tickets. In the seeming eternity he stood behind me while we awaited entry to the Close-Up Gallery, seating 22, he recounted the entirety of gaming action to be found in Ultima I, Ultima II, Ultima III, Ultima IV, Ultima V, and all the other role-playing Ultima games that by their very name reduce the meaning of English language. (Although not so much as “Final Fantasy 13,” about which I said to my son, “When will we every truly reach the final fantasy, and how will we know? Will they call it Final Final Fantasy?”) British was loud and obnoxious and utterly oblivious to the narrow confines of the hallway in which he was bloviating. The moment the door to the show room opened, people scrambled for the furthest seat from him. In a room seating three rows totaling 22 people, there is no furthest seat. I am sorry that as a long-ago player of some of his games, I am partly responsible for engendering his self-entitlement. And that the Russians have perfected the return flight.

All for now. Off to get the wine and the gun.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 26th, 2009 at 9:19 pm and is filed under Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.