Bouncing From Subject to Subject

I’m not sure if anyone’s noticed, but I’ve been trying to keep the updates a little more focused than they used to be.  More one-topic posts, and less bouncing from subject to subject…

Occasionally, however, it will be necessary to revert to the old epilepsy under a strobe light style of the past. And today is one of those days.  My notebook runneth over with bite-sized crapola.

Does everyone have their t-shirts now? At this point they should all be delivered, even the ones going to Europe, etc. So, if you ordered one and don’t have it, let me know. And please God, don’t let there be any issues. I don’t think my picture window ulcer can take it.

There are only a few shirts remaining. Here are the current counts. I’m not going to buy more, anytime soon. So, if you want one, right now would be a good time to order. Right forkin’ now.

I posted something new at Suggestaholic yesterday, and here’s the link. Going forward, there will be at least one new update every week at that site. So, if you’re interested in the subjects I cover there (music, books, movies, beer) please subscribe to the feed, and/or bookmark the site.

I’d be much obliged.

A few days ago the older Secret was telling me about something that happened in one of his death and dismemberment PlayStation games. Medal of Honor? Is that right? I have some difficulty with the details…

Anyway, he said he shot someone as they peeked around a corner, and as the dude pulled back a mist of blood was all that could be seen near the wall.

“There’s your band name!” I told him.

“Wha’?” he said.

“Mist of Blood! What a great band name!!”

And now he’s fixated on it. He wants to start a band, and call it Mist of Blood. And Toney isn’t real thrilled with my input on the subject.

Do you do that? Do you hear little phrases in your everyday life, and think, “What a great name for a band!” It happens to me at least once a week. I need to start writing them down.

Not that I’ll ever start a band, mind you. The only musical instrument I can play is my car stereo, and I’m not exactly a virtuoso with that.

A few months ago, as you might remember, Steve and I traveled to Philadelphia to see Paul Weller perform. He’s a Springsteen-caliber star in Europe, and almost completely unknown in America. Don’t believe me? Well, check out the treatment he receives from the tabloids in England. That’s something reserved for A-listers only, my friends.

And speaking of music and bad behavior, here’s some sad news for ya…

Over the past few weeks I’ve taken advantage of some really great one-day sales at Amazon’s mp3 store. They sell seemingly random albums for next to nothing for a few hours, then quickly raise the price back up to its normal level.

As you might imagine, this is causing me to become semi-obsessed… I’ve been checking the site several times every day.

But now I’ve found a better way. Amazon has set up a Twitter page, where all their quickie sales are listed. Right here. So, no more rooting around the website, believing I somehow missed the Best Deal Ever.

Yes, these kinds of things improve the quality of the OCD life.

And speaking of Amazon, I really hate when customers start their reviews with, “Well, what can I say?” For some reason that causes me to grind my molars, and make gurgling noises deep in my throat. Same goes for this ending: “‘Nuff said!”

Every person who’s ever left such a review, anywhere on the Amazon site, can kiss it. Both east and west of the great divide. …I’m sorry, I’m getting a little worked up.

I was digging through my closet a couple weeks ago, and found a pair of red sweatpants. They’re the old 1980s-style, with elastic at the bottom of each leg.

Huh, I thought, those look kinda comfy. They’re in really good shape too, possibly never used.  So I threw them in the washer, then started wearing ’em.

And they make Toney crazy. Clearly, she hates them. Every time I walk into the room wearing my new (but old) sweatpants, she sighs and shakes her head.

I finally asked her what was bothering her about them, and she said adult men should never wear clothes with elastic at the bottom. That goes for both shirts and pants.

I’d never thought about it. Is that true? What do you think?

Regardless, I plan to continue rocking them. They’re very comfortable, and what do I care if they’re gathered at the bottom, and are a throwback to the Footloose era? I don’t take fashion into consideration when preparing for a good couch wallow. Ya know?

I recently linked to a movie site Brad told me about. They offer vintage and downloadable drive-in movies, including an interesting one called Lunch Meat. Eventually I’d like to watch a few of ’em. You know, in my spare time.

But it leads me to the Question of the Day… There were a few highly questionable movies I saw, back during my high school days, which I’m hoping will eventually be featured at the site.

One was advertised under the phrase, “R has never gone this far!” And another was a softcore porn version of Pinocchio, with the tagline, “It’s not his nose that grows!”

So, that’s the question. What’s your favorite tagline for a movie? Not necessarily the sleazy stuff I’m talking about, any movie. Are there any that are especially memorable?  Which ones have stuck with you through the years?

Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.

Now playing in the bunker.