Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about the remake, the revisits, and the rage.

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What's happenin' y'all? Just got back from a trip to the store, and it's 87 degrees out according to the NBT bank I pass in my neighborhood (I'd say I bank there too, but that would be exaggerating our relationship slightly). Why do banks have signs telling us the current temperature? If they're not gonna post bank-like information, such as the current exchange or interest rates, then it seems like a misappropriation of all my overdraft fees. They could serve me better by showing baseball scores, or advertising the date for when McDonald's is bringing back the McRib. It's not like I need to be reminded that it's crazy hot out...I've got a window, and I can stick my head out of it. Once it gets past, I dunno, like, 80, I know it's too hot for me to care.

Here's how else I know it's hot...I got one of those damn heat headaches again. I've had sunstroke and sun poisoning before, so I'm somewhat susceptible to them. I don't know what cancer feels like, but this headache feels like what sinus cancer spreading into my upper jaw should feel like. It doesn't hurt, but it's annoying as all get-out, and I wanna nap but it's too late in the day for that and besides, I get the feeling a nap wouldn't help this. But enough about me...you're not here to listen to me whine.

Awww, cute, isn't it? It's a little girl standing in the street, giving her dog kisses. In the middle of the road. Mustn't be a very smart dog, stopping in the middle of the street like that. Kids, they don't know better and we expect that...but animals, yeesh...the way some people talk about and treat their dogs and cats, you'd think we'd be worrying about them taking over our jobs and raping our women instead of listening to that fearmongering, hairpiece-wearin' windbag Donald Trump tell us what all the illegals are gonna do once they cross the magic border.

But fear thee not, logical thinkers of WDC and lands beyond...I'm here as part of the "Invalid Item"  to interpret this picture and tell you what's really goin' on. And what this is...isn't cute. It's Hollywood. See, in their penchant for easy money and laziness, a well-known movie studio has decided that they need to remake another classic television program rather than come up with a new, original idea that can hoover money directly from our pockets...and this time around, they've chosen Lassie  .

And in order to appeal to our fanaticism over diversity, the role of Timmy will be played by a tiny little Asian girl. Lassie herself will no longer be a blonde collie either; instead she'll be a dark-colored black African-American German Shepherd. Timmy's parents will be gay, although there will be no obvious references to homosexuality because two same-sex people sharing a scene in Hollywood is fine, but doing anything more than implying or insinutating that they do more than hi-five each other could upset the target 'Murican audience.

Don't ask me about a plot though; that last paragraph took a lot outta me, and that alone means it's sufficient enough for me today. Go see the movie when it comes out in theaters and in (is it "in"? I have no idea.) IMAX in 2032...when our child star is all grown up and twice-removed from rehab, and Das Lassie is chasing bumpers in that great wherever dogs go in the sky.

"'But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned to a pillar of salt. So it goes. People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore.' -Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five. How often do you look back into your life? Does it ever bother you or are you afraid to?"

Ya know, I read this last fall, and I barely remember it. "So it goes."...I remember that. But for the life of me I couldn't tell you anything I know about this book. So it goes.

I find myself looking back a lot, actually. I've done some cool shit over forty years, and I've done some not cool shit as well. We all have, I guess...it's the not cool things that often I'm reminded of the most. I don't appreciate my brain or my memory-recalling system for working like that. Some of that I suppose I could take more responsibility for; I'm the one who chose to document many periods of my life, and I'm the one who decided earlier this year that it'd be a fun project to start posting more of those works online. And like usual, after about ten minutes I get all "WTF were you thinkin'?" about both the memories, and the actual work involved with typing them up for sharing.

And it's funny, while I might very easily go back in time in my head, rarely do I take the opportunity to reread things I've written. Maybe a day or two later, or when I've written something new and feel like flipping through the existing notebook, but that's it. Same with blog entries...once it's edited to my satisfaction and posted where it needs to be posted and comments have been read, there's a 98% chance I'll never look at it again (unless somewhere down the road I want to reference it in another blog entry). My theory is that I lived it at least once, and thought enough to write about it at least once, and I'll probably be reminded of it involuntarily anyway, so why bother? I should be spending more time focusing on the now, at least.

But it's when I've convinced myself that I should be archiving all my words that I find myself looking back the most, for the obvious reasons. Don't ever let anyone tell you, when the past's proof is laid out in front of you, that going through it is an easy thing to do. Time may soften a lot of the edges, but they'll still cut, and I still keep going in for more. I don't know why I thought any of it- then, or now- is or was so important or whatever, but I guess it helps fill in some gaps that my physical memory has started to purge.

It's nice to know though that even amid some of the crazier points in my life, there have been times where I can look back and be thankful I had the presence of mind to jot down the things I did...even though I haven't finished getting all of "Ribmeat Of The Family Tree"  up, from what I've seen in perusing it is that some of what's in there stands up with some of the best or really cool things my head's had the pleasure of being graced with. I try to keep that in mind whenever I wake up after a dream that's been attached to a shitty memory...there's been fun stuff too, even though it's more work trying to look back on those times. Everything balances out, or at least it should.

"The Pamplona Bull Run is the highest profile event of the San Fermin festival, which is held every year from July 6th–14th. The first bull running is on July 7, followed by one on each of the following mornings of the festival, beginning every day at 8 am. Among the rules to take part in the event are that participants must be at least 18 years old, run in the same direction as the bulls, not incite the bulls, and not be under the influence of alcohol. If given the opportunity would you participate in the running of the bulls? Why or why not? How do you feel about this tradition? Do you think it is cruel to the bulls? Why or why not?"

I very nearly titled this entry "This one's about the remake, the revisits, and the retards.", but "retard" is up there with a very tiny handful of words I really don't like using. I know, right? I'll drop f-bombs as nouns, verbs, and adjectives, use "shit" in a non-defecating manner, and make Biblical references sound like Penthouse Letters, but I won't call someone a retard. Awww, I guess old age really has softened ol' Norb's heart after all. Shut the fuck up.

Anyway, look, I respect the whole tradition of Pamplona and the running of the bulls, but you've gotta be outta your mind if you think I'm gonna run or recommend that activity to a friend. No way homes. And I'm someone who's pondered his own mortality before...I still wouldn't think about that.

Maybe in my younger, wilder days I would've considered it. It's certainly easy to tease yourself with the notion when it's a very real possibility you'll never leave your home state again. But no. Every year this thing comes around, and I'm another year closer to a wheelchair already, and I still hold out hope that maybe one day I'll be able to run again just for fuck's sake without being chased by bulls...why would I jeopardize that? Like, don't screw with my bad-decision maker like that, ok? I gotta be pretty close to caught up with karma by now, so let's just not see how far I really can push things.

I love the participation rules for this though. Don't booze up, and don't provoke the bulls. I'll tell you what...there's no way I'm risking my life without being absolutely liquored up to the point where running with a large mass of people versus huge animals with horns on their heads is a good idea. I've gotten shitfaced for less. If there's a chance I'm not gonna wake up, or that I do wake up and have half a bull's domepiece stuck in my intestines, you better believe I've also taken out a Crown Royal factory as well.

The other part about not inciting the bulls or whatever...ummm, maybe I've watched too many cartoons, but then what's the point of tying the red handkerchief around your neck? And running? In a very large group? Call me irresponsible, but if I'm a bull and I see that poppin' off in front of me, I'm gonna snort and be all like "It's go time!" and try to plow down as many of those fuckers as I can. That's all I need! But then again, that's also why I prefer to not grocery shop with a cart in a crowded supermarket...too much temptation.

So yeah, let someone else have that experience. The bull-running is a young man's game anyway. I've already seen some pictures   from this year's event, and it's no different than it's been in the past. I do almost feel sorry for the bulls, but not because I think this whole thing is cruel. I mean it is, but it's not their choice, and they're just acting on instinct really...it's my understanding that the bulls get put down if they gore someone, and while the punishment fits the crime it's also like entrapment. They don't know that these people are trying to run with and/or away from them for sport. I also don't claim to know what a bull's nature is, but I'm sure there's a reason why we eat so much steak beyond the fact that it's tasty.

Don't expect me to write an entry that involves the running of the bulls and not include this song...especially when there are so many great, incendiary live versions of it. I know repetition can stem from a lack of creativity, and I've shared this video at least 36 times, but you and I also understand me to be different.

"Weapons not food, not homes, not shoes,
not need, just feed the war cannibal animal."
Lyrics.  

Most of us are writers, so that gives us the liberty to sorta say things however we wanna say them, amirite? But that's because we consider ourselves when we're under the influence of ideas to be creative types first, just like when we're at our jobs we're <insert whatever your job is here> first. Now, imagine that you have a job which sometimes entails you having to talk about death (maybe you're a coroner in Pamplona), but you're not supposed to actually say "death". Luckily, there are people who have been in that position, and here's what they called it  .

Doesn't it suck sometimes when you're looking back through old pictures, and you see your much-younger you all dressed up in some hideous fashion emblematic of the era? Like you wanna slap your folks for thinkin' this look   put you at the precipice of some sorta hip new movement? Well lemme tell ya, brothers and sisters, who doesn't hafta worry about that kind of foolishness...those meddlin' kids from Scooby-Doo  , that's who. Straight up class and style, no matter what decade.

And finally, Ringo Starr turned 75 (!!) today, so celebrate (or don't; readers' choice) with four things you might not have known about him  ...#4 is my favorite, because it reminds me of how great the second half of Abbey Road is.

Alright, it looks like we got through this relatively unscathed and with minimal struggle. Always a good thing. I still feel like one side of my head has been playing around in the nuclear fields a little too long, but at least I think it rained a little during this entry's creation, so that's cooled things down somewhat. Now to see if I can muster up the energy to read the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  entries from yesterday and today so I can maintain my caught-up pace...I might have to force myself. Peace, drop the hits like De La O, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!