Non-Hipstamatic filtered Stop Light Theater:
Hipstamatic-filtered Stop Light Theater at the same stop light:
This post brought to you by nothing. Just a red head who is watching The Godfather Part II with the love of his life on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
You’re welcome.
We went to the store to buy a couple pairs of shorts.
We over did it.
The picture only shows about half of the haul we bought.
File under: Yikes.
Apparently you could see the Northern Lights from near my house last night. Did I look outside? Nope. I was simultaneously watching what is arguably the greatest movie ever made, The Godfather, and watching my hockey team get smoked for the second playoff game in a row.
Insert the sound of a frustrated sigh here.
The plan for my immediate future is to go to a department store to buy some clothing for our upcoming Florida trip. I don’t like wearing shorts. I’m a jeans guy. Khakis work in a pinch, but I feel most comfortable, the most like me, in jeans. I don’t own a pair of shorts. The last time I bought shorts for myself was also in preparation for a trip to Florida, but at that time I weighed about 240 pounds more than I weigh today. I need to go buy me some Florida-weather-appropriate garments. Blah.
I might go shopping for a bird feeder that doesn’t suck too, but that would require making two stops and I don’t think I have that in me today. We’ll see.
I missed the Northern Lights. What a puke head. Ugh. Dumbass.
“There is more than one kind of freedom,” said Aunt Lydia. “Freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale
A little clarification on the quote. In the context of the story, what Aunt Lydia called “the days of anarchy” was our current society, at least at the time of writing which I believe was the 1980’s. The “now” of which she speaks is arguably the most brutally oppressive religious dictatorship western fiction has ever dreamed up.
You know what would be nice? It would be nice if women had control over their own healthcare. My wife and my daughter, my sister, my niece, my friends, my neighbors, all women. It would be nice if freedom meant they made their own decisions about their own bodies.
You know what would be nice? It would be nice if freedom was not dependent on something as idiotically arbitrary as the color of your skin. If people with one color skin had the right to a fair trial when they are accused of breaking the law, while people with another color skin are shot in the street like animals by those who claim to be upholding the law for even the most minor legal infractions. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?
You know what would be nice? It would be nice if our rights were not dictated by where our ancestors lived or how they choose to practice religion (or not). It would be nice if people in our society had the same rights whether they were descended from people in western Europe, or people in the middle east, or people in the far east, or people in Africa. That would sure be nice, I think.
Okay. I am stopping now. Today’s daily writing prompt has seriously pissed me off and I am going to start writing the word fuck a lot if I don’t stop writing now.
The Bruins lost 5-2. Friggin’ Bruins.
Robin turns her back on them. I won’t, but she did.
ADDENDUM: I must have missed an empty net goal in the last seconds of the game. The Bruins lost 6-2, not 5-2. Bite me.
We’re about five minutes into the second period and The Bruins trail the Panthers 1-0. We’re going on the power play though, so let’s be optimistic.
Jen and I watched The Offer on Paramount+ this week. It’s actually the second time we watched it. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s the story of the making of The Godfather. Now that we’re finished with the show we’re watching the movie. Clemenza just left the gun but took the cannoli’s.
The Godfather is on the living room TV. The Bruins are on my iPhone via the streaming app formerly known as HBO Max. I’m trying to multitask over here, but it’s tough when the movie is so legendary and the iPhone screen is so teeny tiny. Even if it is an iPhone 14 Pro Max.
The Bruins did not score on the power play. Crud.
The Gigolo Aunts have a song called, “Everything is Wrong.” The first line of the lyrics is, “I wanna go back.” Every time I think of our impending Florida trip I sing that line from that song in my head.
I wanna go back. There. I just did it again as I was typing. Thanks, Gigolo Aunts!
The Bruins vs Panthers series comes home to Boston for game three tonight. The Bruins took game one down in Florida, then got smoked in game two. The hope is that Pastrnak’s late third period fight in game two might be enough to wake everyone up after the bad game. Maybe that, plus a little home cooking… We need a win tonight, Bruins.
I haven’t been able to actually watch any of these games yet as we no longer have a functioning cable TV account. The games have been on ESPN and I can’t stream that network at the moment. Tonight’s game is supposed to be on Max, but we’ll probably be blacked out. Maybe I can setup a VPN somewhere?
We’re still about four and a half hours away from puck drop, but my nerves are already gearing up. The playoffs stress me out, man. I tells ya.
In other viewing news, the new season of Doctor Who hits Disney+ tonight at 7:00pm Eastern. I believe we’ll get two episodes today. Dark Matter on AppleTV+ has released two episodes and I am hooked. The premise is very similar to the recently released Constellation, except (to this point at least) Dark Matter is about 123612346147134 times better… and I liked Constellation. Here’s hoping it stays good.
Another down side for tonight’s Bruins game (pardon me for steering things back onto the target topic) is that I am totally freakin’ exhausted right now. I don’t know if I am going to be able to stay awake until the end of the game. I got six hours of sleep last night, which is usually enough to get me through the next day, but I feel like I needed 16 hours last night. Whether I am watching the game or just following the play-by-play updates on NHL.com, I will very likely be out like a light before the game ends. 9:00pm bedtimes are common for both middle school kids and middle aged red heads.
Go Bruins.
No guitar playing today. It’s an office day and I didn’t have time.
Tomorrow though? Maybe? Not at 100 decibels like on Wednesday, but maybe? We’ll see. There’s stuff on the to do list that has to come first, but maybe…
Also, unrelated… cats… in silhouette.
I asked the jetpack AI assistant this question:
Define the phrase “loaded question”
A “loaded question” is a type of question that contains an assumption that, if answered, implies agreement with that assumption. It is designed to provoke a particular response, often by creating an unfair or false association. This type of question can be seen as manipulative or deceitful because it aims to push a particular agenda.
Yeah… that’s pretty much what I thought you’d say, Mr. AI.
What public figure do I disagree with the most… yeah… You don’t have to scroll too far back on this stupid little blog page to find the answer. I don’t often say his name directly anymore because it makes me sick to use those five letters in that particular order. I don’t enjoy putting name to evil, but I’ll do it. Instead I refer to his cult followers by the name he sort of gave them. The maga cult. Lowercase letters because fuck them all, they don’t deserve capital letters. Scum.
I am talking about that neo-nazi who is running for president as the republican nominee, because there is no republican party anymore (still with the lower case letters because capital letters imply respect). I am talking about the orange pile of fascist goo who calls himself trump.
Do I disagree with the nazi? You bet your ass I do. Everything he stands for. Everything he thinks. Everything he does. Everyone who follows him. Fuck them all. He is the physical manifestation of evil in our universe and the so-called christian right follows him as though he were the second fucking coming.
I don’t believe in hell, but if I did I would believe that he comes from there. No question.
Fuck him and fuck everything he represents.
Inside the Red Head's Head 