Are these signs of the apocalypse? Maybe not, but things have popped up on my pop culture radar lately that made me wonder what the heck are people thinking these days ...
Item number one for consideration, Usher's new song, "I Don't Mind."
Shawty, I don’t mind
If you dance on a pole
That don’t make you a ho
Shawty, I don’t mind when you work until three
If you’re leaving with me
Go make that money, money, money
Your money, money, money
Cause I know how it is, go and handle your biz
And get that money, money, money
Your money, money, money
You can take off your clothes
Long as you coming home, girl, I don’t mind
Really, Usher? Thanks for the permission and your approval. The lyrics only get classier [not] as the song continues.
Also questionable is an ad running frequently for the television game show Family Feud, starring Steve Harvey, that went viral on the show earlier this month. When asked to provide a popular answer to the question: "What does a doctor pull out of a person?" a female contestant named Darci blurted out, "A gerbil!" How much fun for parents to try to avoid explaining why she might have said that.
Maybe I just need to turn off the TV and the radio for a while ...
We had lunch yesterday at a local drug store luncheonette. Yes, there are thankfully still some drug stores in the good ol' U.S. of A. that have lunch counters. It's a step back in time. We've learned not to order anything too fancy — just eggs or a burger, but it's a fun place to go to from time to time.
The tropical murals add a certain je ne sais quoi
After lunch we can peruse the shelves and do a little shopping if we like. The kid heads straight for the aisle that has toys in it of course, and today this caught my eye. Notice anything?
For Ages 3+ - Really?
Need a closer look?
That quite the outfit, nurse
What is the target audience for this doctor set? Is it just me? It says 3+, but the nurse looks more Benny Hill or '80s-era Madonna than what a little three year-old should be picturing during roleplay.
Nearby was a second, anime-style set which had artwork that was also a little weird, but at least seemed age-appropriate.
I couldn't help but have the Clash's Lost in the Supermarket running through my head yesterday when my mother disappeared. She and my daughter and I were at our local library, returning some DVDs and looking for more (and books, too, of course).
I'm all lost in the supermarket
I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for that special offer
A guaranteed personality
We took the elevator from the third floor, which has all of the kids' books, music, and movies, to the second floor, which has all of the current DVDs and Blu-rays. The kid and I headed to the DVD racks, while my mom went to the rest room. I told her we'd meet her "over there," gesturing towards the movies. About 8-10 minutes later, with our arms full of a few treasures, the kid checked the restroom — but she wasn't there.
I wasn't born so much as I fell out
Nobody seemed to notice me
We had a hedge back home in the suburbs
Over which I never could see
My mom has dementia. We go to the library together a lot, but we don't usually go together to the second floor — I usually just go on my own while she and the kid hang out up on the kids' floor. If mom has to use the restroom she usually uses the one on the first (main) floor and then we leave from there. I knew she couldn't have gone far, or left the library, but I can't say I wasn't worried. We looked all over the second floor, just to be sure she wasn't browsing and we missed her, and then headed to the first floor. No sign of mom. I stationed the kid on the first floor where she could see the elevator, and then headed back to the elevator to check all the floors. I asked the nice librarian on the kids' floor if she'd seen her, thinking she might have headed back there to find us, and she said no, but she'd keep an eye out. Floors four and two (and their bathrooms) didn't turn her up. Neither did looking out the window, down at my car parked n the street. I headed back down to the main floor. I was greeted by my daughter, smiling and nodding. Mom had come downstairs and was actually out in the lobby, waiting for us.
I heard the people who lived on the ceiling
Scream and fight most scarily
Hearing that noise was my first ever feeling
That's how it's been all around me
Is there a lesson here? A few, I think. Number one, for my own sanity, is not to drift away when she wants to do something, or to be more specific about where to meet in a future similar situation. Number two, maybe mom has more of an idea of how to operate the elevator and navigate the library (and the world) than I give her credit. I had pictured her, panicked on the elevator, not knowing what button to push. I'm always so "in charge" of where we go that she doesn't have to be. Maybe I need to let her try to do more. But I think that lesson number one will still help us all in the future, as this dementia roller coaster ride has its ups and downs, its hills and valleys.
... and maybe my gift. To look for meaning in things, even the most inane of pop culture offerings.
Case in point. I found myself listening more closely to a song that I don't particularly like on the car radio the other day because its contradictory messages were driving me crazy.
It was Usher's "DJ Got Us Falling in Love Again." It's just a silly dance song, the usual seduction scene on the dance floor. But it suffers from a number of problems. First and foremost, the way Usher sings the title line, "DJ" sounds a lot more like "Danger," which might make a bit more sense, if he is trying to impress a girl that he indicates later in the song that he hardly remembers. Bad boy.
Ain't I seen you before?
I think I remember those eyes, eyes, eyes
I'm not sure what Usher has been indulging in while at the club, but he seems to be suffering from some memory impairment. He keeps going back and forth, from reminiscing about doing this before, to not being sure if he remembers the object of his seduction or not.
Swear I've seen you before
I think I remember those eyes, eyes, eyes
I'm not sure how successful his repetitive "Don't I know you?" approach turns out to be, because the song never really gives us a clue as to how things turn out. It's just all persuasion.
So dance dance
like its the last last night
of your life life
won't get you right
I'm really not sure what he means by "Won't get you right," but it sounds like he might be losing ground.
To add insult to injury, Usher doesn't seem to be able to close the deal on his own, but enlists his buddy Pitbull to come to his aid. Unfortunately, Pitbull's idea of a seductive line ranges from the gross to idiotic to purely clinical.
If Erykah Badu can get naked then baby I'm sure that you can
Let him know how I'ma jump through your fruit loops
I wanna be your gyno not your doctor
I will give Usher this — he ends the song by at least thanking the DJ. So maybe things turned out OK after all. A little threat of post-apocalyptic devastation may have ended up being the way to a girl's heart after all.
So dance dance like its the last last night of your life life don't get you right
I was feeling not-so-hot, more not-so-hot than usual, last Friday afternoon, so I picked up the kid from school, dropped her at home and told her I'd be home in few hours. I went to the local ER to get my tummy checked out, as my regular doc is only open until 2:30 on Fridays. As usual, everything takes four hours minimum at an ER, so to amuse myself I kept a journal of exactly how long it took to get things done.
2:55 Arrived at the ER
3:35 Still waiting in the outer waiting room. People coughing. Sigh. The guard says it's crowded inside triage. I'm going to be here for a while. : (
3:49 Is the hospital Republican? Why is it always Fox news in the waiting room? Florida.
4:31 Still in the waiting room. I have to pee, but don't want to go yet, because I may have to give a sample. There are good people-watching opportunities, but it's also sad, because everyone here is frustrated with the wait, and obviously are not feeling their best. People are being whisked in and out to get x-rays.
4:40 Finally called back. Pee sample (what a relief) and in a gown in a room. Now the next phase of waiting begins.
4:55 Two hours after I walked in. Blood taken. Waiting to see the doctor. The nurse said the results will take an hour, so depending on what else I have to do, I'll be lucky to get out if here by 7 or 8. Not enough time to see a movie, but I can bring home dinner and relax for the rest of the evening with Lucy and Mom and the pets.
5:02 The doc showed up. She ordered some scans of my abdomen after I told her about my discomfort. You really have to be proactive and insist to get the treatment you want/need. I know for an ER doc I might not seem an urgent case to her, but for someone who's so uncomfortable and has been waiting hours, I'd like a little bit of solicitousness. So now's the big wait to see how long it takes to get my scans and test results done. I got a room with no TV, which may turn out to be a blessing, but I'm not sure how long my phone battery will hold out.
My room is right near the nurse's station. As I'm waiting I'm hearing about a lot of other patients who are dealing with pretty serious issues — trouble breathing, scary high blood pressure. I don't feel guilty about being here too (well, not too guilty). Everyone's pain is relative and we all need to be cared for and looked after from time to time. In order to get the same tests at my regular doctor's office I would have had to wait a week at least.
5:16 Got my scans done.
5:40 Coming up on 3 hours. Still waiting for results of everything.
5:47 Pain med IV — "a strong Motrin" Western medicine's answer for evrything. The nurse was amazed that I already had my scans done.
5:55 The kid called to see if we could still make the 6:30 movie tonight (!) She already walked the dog and I asked her to feed the pets. She is beyond wonderful. The IV makes me feel cold on this already cold room. C'mon people.
6:03 I grab a blanket, but I'm not laying down in the hospital bed. Somehow sitting up makes me feel like I'll get out of here faster. I think this diary is a pretty accurate account of how an ER works and what brought me here. Now if I could just get my (good) results and go home.
6:18 I feel nauseated. It may be the pain killer and the fact that I only ate a few cherry tomatoes for lunch.
6:20 Tick tock tick tock. And I'm freezing.
6:35 Nurse checks in on me to see if the pain med is helping. Still waiting for results ... I ask her how long, she goes to check. So many bells and pings out there. Do they mean anything to the staff? They're endless. I can only think of when my dad was in the hospital and Monty Python's "The machine that goes 'ping.'" I'm coming up on 4 hours, no surprise there. C'mon people.
6:50 Finally results. Doc says all tests are clear except I have a gallstones. So not exactly clear. I'm good to go with two prescriptions I probably won't take and orders to follow-up with my doc on Monday to see what to do about the gallstones — which of course will necessitate a whole new round of doc visits and tests ...
Addendum. After a week of getting tests and seeing docs it looks like I will need to bid adieu to my gall bladder next week. Hopefully this will help ease my recurring tummy troubles.
Target has become our go-to store, instead of the -marts, K and Wal, for household stuff like cleaners and paper towels, last-minute groceries, and especially children's clothes. Target has been trying a "Macy's Lite" approach with kid's clothes recently, inviting designers and personalities like Gwen Stefani and Shaun White to sell up-market lines. But they also continue to have their own house brands, which are inexpensive, cotton, and usually pretty colorful and cute. We have found a lot of great clothes and bargains there for a rapidly growing eight year-old.
These skirts are cute, versatile and completely appropriate
At the start of the summer I bought my daughter four or five "scooters," a kid version of the skort, with ruffles and built-in shorts that were great for everything from going out to eat to bike riding. But the last time I was in the store I was in for an unpleasant surprise. Target has recently seen fit to redesign the scooter and the results are disastrous. Instead of the cute little skirt she wore all summer, we are now being offered a micromini that barely covers a kid's underwear. These are sized for girls 6-10. They are a pedophile's dream.
This skirt looks like they just cut off the lower ruffle of the top skirt and ran out of fabric. It's way too short.
What the hell is the thinking behind this? It's hard to believe that Target has run out of cotton fabric and had to shrink the skirt. That they redesigned to make them cheaper to produce, yes. They certainly look cheap. The skirts are so so short teens and adults would hesitate to wear them. What idiot thought these would be appropriate for little girls to wear? The Shirley Temple look went out of style a long time ago, and was never such a hot idea in the first place.
Don't bend over, Shirley.
I am extremely disappointed in Target and hope these are a resounding flop. I am not looking forward to seeing elementary school kids sporting these items. Bring back the old design. Let kids dress like kids.
Tropical storm Isaac, which may or may not turn out to be a hurricane, is looking to give us a wider berth than was originally expected, for which I'm very thankful, but Isaac will still be dumping a ton of water on us over the next few days. The hurricane shutters are still open, but if things start to get crazy windy on Sunday we can close them. I just dread having to do that, not just because that means the bad weather has escalated, but because it will be so dark in here with them closed, and quite claustrophobic.
Hopefully the power will stay on and we can have a DVD party weekend. Worse case scenario, I can always charge the iPad and the phone in the car and we can get our digital fix that way. I have tons of water and batteries and got the kid her own flashlights, so we should have some fun making shadow monsters, too.
Aren't times tough enough that a person shouldn't be getting sassed at the checkout counter? I was running errands yesterday before I had to pick up the kid after school and stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things. We get our prescriptions there, so I got those first, and then after a hasty glance at my list I grabbed some cereal for the kid, a loaf of bread, and some bologna for sandwiches.
On my way to the ten items or fewer checkout lane I checked out the prepared food section, because sometimes these timesavers also save my sanity. They had a big pre-made salad, a spinach quiche, and some marinated mushrooms from their olive bar that I could use to either make a light dinner or a couple of lunches for us.
I put my items on the conveyor belt and fished for my card when I heard the cashier say something — but she was also looking around, so I wasn't sure at first that she was talking to me.
She repeated her questions, "$32? What are you buying?" I just stared at her. Certainly she wasn't giving me crap for what I was purchasing, was she? But she repeated herself, again. I looked at the product read-out. Yes, those items all add up to $32. Kinda sucks. But I'm also kinda in a hurry, and I'm not always going to be a coupon queen. If I want some marinated mushrooms, etc., dammit, why the hell not? Of course now I'm even more pissed at myself for letting this check-out person make me question the wisdom of my purchases and my lack of frugality.
I'd like to think she meant well, but it was clearly a shaming exercise, one she probably has done before. Maybe it makes her feel superior about her purchases at the end of the day. But I have no desire to look into her grocery bag. I will admit to vicariously looking at others' groceries and trying to piece together what sort of meals and lifestyles they might have. Sometimes it's fun, as the items don't seem to go together. But to take those harmless musings to the next level and actually call someone out for their three packages of Ho-Hos, "You're not really going to eat those, are you?" No way would it ever even occur to me to do that.
Maybe she was just envious of my marinated mushrooms, or the kid's Lucky Charms (a breakfast cereal she may have thought were mine — admittedly my few assorted items probably looked like a single gal who doesn't know how to shop). Regardless, I'm looking forward to our quiche and salad — with a nice side condiment of marinated mushrooms. And hopefully, less input next time. Maybe I should request the store install a self-check-out lane.
All of the traditional carols and holiday-themed songs have been recorded in multiple versions, but pop music stars have also been compelled to create new Christmas music, resulting in some really terrible songs that find a new life each year on the radio. If they had just been a clunker song on an old album we would never have had to hear them again. But Paul McCartney did a Christmas single (!) so we are perpetually subjected to a truly grating mess, Wonderful Christmastime. I don't even want to link to the music here. Google it at your own risk. Elton John also must have decided he needed his own holiday song. The result was the dreckish and lazy Step Into Christmas (written with Bernie Taupin, no less). Seriously, Elton, why?
I'm sure some consider it a classic, but I've always found Elvis Presley's Blue Christmas annoying. The rest of his holiday album is pretty good — maybe I've just heard Blue Christmas too many times.
I'm not hard hearted. If I didn't enjoy the season I wouldn't even be flipping on the holiday tunes. But I think everyone would agree with me that the most maudlin, terrible holiday song ever recorded is The Christmas Shoes by NewSong. It's an obvious and ham-handed attempt to elicit tears, and it's just really bad. Indigestion is more of a certainty than any depth of feeling. Apparently it was even turned into a television movie starring Rob Lowe. Yikes.
An equally obnoxious story-song set around the holidays is Dan Fogelberg's, Same Old Lang Syne.
Met my old lover in a grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve
Stole behind her in the frozen foods
and I touched her on the sleeve
She didn't recognize the face at first
but then her eyes flew open wide
Tried to hug me and she spilled her purse
and we laughed until we cried
I know whenever I spill my purse out on the floor while unexpectedly bumping into an old flame laughing and crying is my first reaction. Second? Drinking a six-pack with the dude in the grocery store parking lot. Ahhh, the spirit of Christmas.
I also am perplexed by the recent covers of Wham's Last Christmas. George Michael's breathy Marilyn Monroe-like delivery of the lyrics is the height of cheese. In fact, it just points out how much of his singing is just whispering. Why Ashley Tisdale and Taylor Swift felt compelled to record their own versions of this goofy song is anybody's guess.
I love Judy Garland's Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, so when I heard a dirge-like version I had to suffer through to the last note to find out who was murdering the classic — and was shocked to discover it was the Pretenders' Chrissie Hynde. Oh well. I'll stick with Garland's and Sinatra's versions.
As far as holiday songs in general, I'm also not fond of Silent Night, The Little Drummer Boy, and Do You See What I See? — no matter who sings them. That's probably connected to my days in the school chorus. Some choir master always thought these songs would be "cool" for kids to sing, as opposed to more traditional carols.
So these are my least favorite holiday songs. At least we only have to run across them once a year (on heavy rotation). I plan to write one more holiday sing-along post, focusing on Christmas novelty songs ...
There's no way I'm going near a retail establishment today. I don't get the hype. Organized mania like Black Friday always makes me think of the old joke about St. Patrick's Day being amateur night for drinkers.
But instead of thinking about shopping, here are some great black and white images to enjoy. Can you guess what films they are from? Answers below.
From top: Simone Simon in Cat People, Bogie and Bacall in To Have and Have Not, Johnny Depp and Martin Landau in Ed Wood, Joan Fontaine in Rebecca, The kids from Village of the Damned, Barbara Stanwyck and Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire
... so why do we have to be in such an all-fired rush to push the season?
It's impossible to go anywhere and not be assaulted by holiday merchandise, it seems. There is no way I'm buying any thing Christmassy at the moment, it's not even Thanksgiving fercrissakes, but I did let the kid have fun with some of the stuff on display ...
Slate's article, "Don't Mind the Gap" tries to excuse the involuntary and instinctual weirdness that most people feel when hearing that Hugh Hefner is engaged yet again to a twenty-something girl. The article lists a handful of celebrity May-December romances as evidence that this proposal is not that strange. Interestingly no older lady/younger dude examples were given. The article may be more sexist than Hef. Good try, but a few examples don't exactly sell the lame point that is trying to be made. Most of the reader comments focused on the ick factor of young gal/old man sex, or that fact that she will have to be his caregiver in just a few years. Not to worry, sweet young thing, not with his bankroll. If the marriage even goes beyond the engagement stage, there will be household help.
What I can't help thinking, scrolling through the list of High's endless nubile blondes of the past few decades (like a new car enthusiast, he tends to trade in fairly regularly), is that Hugh (still) only hangs out with girls. I know he's Hugh Hefner and Playboy was founded on the appreciation and pursuit of tail, but has this guy ever met and liked a woman? Someone who has lived, had experiences (other than the kind to be had at the Playboy mansion), had thoughts?
I'm not trying to say that the bride-to-be or any of her predecessors are stupid. They had to be pretty darn smart to fight their way through the swelling ranks of ready and willing babes in the land of Hef and come out on top, so to speak. They are street-smart, certainly. But I doubt that they have been touched too much by the world of ideas. That's probably all Hugh and many want in a girl anyway. At first. Which is why these relationships all seem to have an expiration date. As these girls grow up into women and start to have ideas of their own on how they want to live their lives they are simultaneously writing their mansion exit visas.
For someone who has lived so long on this planet, has based his life and career on the lives of women, it puzzles me that it is still just one kind of woman—girls. Variety isn't solely based on hair color, Hugh.
Still shallow, but happy, after all these years ...
I think it was taken around the holidays, as that is when my mom would go to visit her Uncle and Aunt in Wisconsin. She is in the red coat, looking more than a little uncomfortable standing next to the ex-deer. Is she smiling or gritting her teeth?
Her half-sister Tania doesn't look uncomfortable at all ...
Happy first day of winter!
L-R: Mariette (my grandmother), Aunt Grace, Tania, Mary Elizabeth (mom) & Uncle Gydie.
Böhm-Zebras (Equus quagga boehmi) im Vivarium Darmstadt (Hessen, Deutschland) by 4028mdk09
I was looking at the black and white world It seemed so exciting If you'd only put me back to back with that girl When the night's inviting With just a little lighting
Miley Cyrus. Just trying to seem all growed up. Surrounded by twats she thinks are her friends who videotape her and then sell it before she has the opportunity to pass out at the party. No one should be outraged that the eighteen year old was partying. Neither Miley nor her "people" should manufacture lame explanations which convince no one. Thank god the internets and facebook weren't prevalent when I was eighteen.
There'll never be days like that again
When I was just a boy and men were men
You never go from moment to moment
You're the living double of a single fiction
I'm still pissed about Carrie Fisher's careless recent "outing" of John Travolta. That is, if she actually outed him. Why is everyone so desperate to label him as either/or? How could labeling anyone anything ever be OK? Why does America want this to be a black and white issue? It's Hollywood people, c'mon. Maybe he likes girls, maybe men, maybe both. Why is no one even considering that he may be bisexual? Why should we care? It's one thing to talk about yourself, to blah blah blah your deepest darkest secrets to the world via twitter or some magazine, but what's with all the finger-pointing? Carrie Fisher should just shut up and so should everyone else. No celebrity or any person owes anyone the intimate details of their intimate details. Sex is not politics. Not for everyone.
You're very colourful with your compliments As you feel the finger's friction It's a freeze-frame Still it's real life You don't want to look Cause you've seen the film and you've read the book
As I get older I get more gray, as does the world. Things I was completely convinced about, was sure were black and white when I was in my twenties, now seem to be myriad shades of gray. I know that people can get more rigid as they get older, but happily, at least for now, I'm feeling the opposite. Maybe my opening mind is a result of watching some of life's spools unravel. I can't control what others think, only what I think.
It's more than just a physical attraction It starts with a face and ends up a fixation But you're never gonna feel a fraction Of the way it used to work on your imagination When you were looking at the black and white world...
The title of this post is not in error. It is not meant to be a question, but a statement.
If I'm watching a television channel with commercials, I usually mute them out, as they are too loud or repetitive. But the other night I caught this commercial and was compelled to watch, to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. Unfortunately, I was. This company is using a short, slightly stout man to embody what's wrong, what's "bad" with the product they're shilling, in this case, a credit report. So this company and its advertising agency thought it would be a good idea to storyboard some high school nastiness?
There's no point going on too long about the travesty that was Project Runway last night. Gretchen is talented, but c'mon. Kors and Garcia have been stacking the deck in Gretchen's favor for weeks. There was so much contradictory bushwa being spewed during the judges' deliberations that it became impossible to take any of it seriously. The only redeeming factor of this show is that you get to see glimpses of the creative process. The competition is rigged, and it becomes more obvious every year. All three guys—Mondo, Andy and Michael—had more going on in their work than the declared winner. Tan, drab, floppy shirts with over-sized dyed-to-match old lady undies? That's what's happening now, Nina? Heidi should have kicked Kors' and Garcia' asses. Jessica Simpson even has more taste than Kors, who just seemed to want to punish Mondo for daring to send his polka dot dress back down the runway. Papa Gunn could only say, "Wow," at the verdict. Indeed. Yeesh. Mondo, you seem to have a really strong sense of self. I wish you great future success.
We are experiencing a tropical storm here. It's funny, I've been here visiting when there was an actual hurricane a few years ago and we had to sit in the shuttered apartment until it was over, feeling very isolated, but the atmosphere is still a bit more intense now that I'm living here full-time.
My first reaction when yesterday someone suggested that the area schools might close—you're kidding, right? It's just raining hard—was tempered by how far the palms were bending in the wind last night. School didn't end up being canceled today—guess they're saving those hurricane days for a real storm.
Looking outside, the sky is almost a yellow gray—the rain is so thick—just not over us at the moment. Hopefully it is passing through (sorry, Carolinas). Today was the first morning since my daughter started school that I really couldn't walk her there—we had to take the car. And I really missed my morning constitutional. But it's just rain. It's Florida. I don't want to buy into the general weather hysteria of the area, but I have to admit that I'm hoping hurricane season is on the wane, too.
“The crow wished everything was black, the owl, that every thing was white.”—William Blake
I guess they give us a clue when the first scene of Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole shows a beautiful owl soar through the air and then deftly grab its prey, a cute little mouse, in 3D close-up—this is not your ordinary kid movie. In fact, after seeing the lushly animated movie I'm still puzzled exactly who is the audience for this movie. It is very dark, and there is ton of slow-mo fighting a la 300 (same director).
Hardly akin to the innocuous Happy Feet, as the poster tries to hard sell.
The animation is top-notch. The feathers on the owls are downy and fluffy and the settings are for the most part, beautiful. The personalities of the main characters are engaging, Aussie accents and all. In fact, all that needed to be done was shifting the focus to the "good" owls and a bit more comic relief. Although Geoffrey Rush tries valiantly to inject his wise old owl with wacky charm. It didn't need to become cutesy-fied, but there is too much time spent on the "bad" owls and their dungeon-like lair without ever satisfactorily explaining why they're bad and what exactly is their shiny secret weapon. Helen Mirren's Nyra does manage to come across as beautiful and deadly.
"The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five-pound note."—Edward Lear
The original series of fifteen books on which it is based was quite popular. It's completely set up as ready for a sequel, although only time and box-office receipts will tell. For me, the film had rather too obvious dashes of Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and Nazis—too referential for me to want to explore the books or read them to my daughter. I'm afraid that even with its drop-dead gorgeous animation the "owl movie" is only mildly diverting, with a little too much drop-dead-ing going on for comfort.
“He respects Owl, because you can't help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn't spell it right.”—A. A. Milne
