I hate cars. I just hate them. I’d love nothing more than to never see another engine in my life. My list of my automotive woes is long and storied, and I see no end in sight. It’s clear cars and their ilk have declared vendetta on me. So be it. Just be aware, cars: I have opposable thumbs and I can climb. Game on, bitches. Game on.
Aren’t we supposed to have jetpacks and super efficient pneumatic travel tubes and moving sidewalks on every street by now? I’m so pissed off that sci-fi and cartoons have lied to me all my life.
Caught an advanced screening of Cowboys & Aliens last night. Totally dug it. Not once was my intelligence insulted. Sci-fi fans and fans of Westerns will love it. Huge thanks to Craig Binder for hooking me up with the pass.
Daniel Craig was great. No accent slips, no cheesiness. He was a great outlaw. And Harrison Ford almost redeemed himself for Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull. But only almost.
Mrs. X, you need to see this film. Several times during the movie I thought, “This is exactly what Carrie’s been asking for.” It was sci-fi that actually takes place in the Old West. I think you’ll like it. For the most part it’s more Western than sci-fi, until the end. And it has a lot more comedy than I expected. Don’t rent it. It’s definitely an owner.
To the haters, allow me to address your most common complaint. Of course it’s far-fetched. It’s a movie about aliens. There’s no “x & Aliens” where x = anything that’s going to make the premise less unrealistic. And I thought the title sucked, too, but after seeing the movie I think it’s perfect. It tells you 100% of what you need to know without spoiling anything.
To celebrate the 42nd anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon landing, I’m breaking my own rule and publishing something that isn’t about science fiction. It turned out, fortunately, to be science fiction, but when it was written its factuality was unknown. I’m referring to the beautiful, chilling speech written for President Nixon in the event the astronauts became stranded on the Moon. To be delivered to the nation while the astronauts were still alive and awaiting death by suffocation, they would have listened to a long range transmission of the President delivering this, their eulogy, from another planet, while their lives and final hours were helplessly mourned from a quarter of a million miles away.
Thanks, everyone, for the birthday wishes. 35 was a good year. My goal was to do two of the following: write a screenplay, write more songs, record and release original music, put more Sci-Fi Guys on the air, and get a better job. 365 days later, and I’ve done ’em ALL. Huge thanks to all who provided support and encouragement along the way. And huge thanks to those made my 36th so fantastic. You guys rock!
This is not a cobbler.
I received three – count ’em THREE – cobblers for my birthday! THREE! Plus an amazing death-by-chocolate cake! I’ve just gotta say, the women in my life are fucking WONDERFUL.
Tomorrow is my birthday. This costs $100. If just 20 of you put in $5 each, we could make this happen. We could put this glorious ’80s style LEGO spaceship into the hands of a young man who desperately wants a miracle. You can change a life. For just $5, you can change the world. The power is in YOUR hands. Just open your hearts and give!
My grandmother, Minnie Hazel Dorn, was a wonderful, loving woman and a master of cross stitch. When she died, her cross stitch collection came to me, and I think it’s high time I show the world a glimpse of her infinite talent and love. Love you, Grandma. Thanks for all the needlework.