The Buster Keaton Ballet

I don’t know how I can enjoy a movie where someone is shot in the head at close range every minute, but so help me, I do find the John Wick movies fun. I don’t know if it’s something wrong with me or with America, but they’re so over the top bonkers, while Keanu Reeves is so earnest, that you can’t take the murder sprees seriously. It also helps that it’s a fantasy world where there are avaricious assassins lurking everywhere, so when one of them leaps out at you with kung-fu or a big sword or a nasty looking gun, it’s perfectly excusable to shoot them in the head. What else could you do? Style points for executing them elegantly and brutally.

The movie is also self-conscious. I didn’t come up with the comparison in my title, the movie overtly references both Buster Keaton and ballet at several points. It combines the slapstick physicality of Keaton with the grace of a dance, although neither of those influences usually culminate in bloody violence. There is a kind of inevitability to the story, too. You know that when Reeves finds himself in a shop selling exotic knives, he will be breaking open every cabinet and throwing and stabbing and slashing with all of them. When he has a fight in a ritzy high end hotel with glass statuary lining the place, someone is going to get thrown into each and every one of them. It’s a thematic obligation, and it’s strangely satisfying when expectations are fulfilled.

John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum was predictably unpredictable, fun, and horrific, a nightmare where everything turns out OK. It also beautifully sets up John Wick: Chapter 4, so now I’m going to have to go see that as soon as it comes out.

Labor!

I am not used to this. I’m cleaning up the garage today, and it is a cluttered mess. My wife pointed out to me that there might be spiders in the debris, so of course I’m out there poking about and moving heavy objects and looking under old boards. I’ll probably be all worn out and sore tomorrow.

Tomorrow, by the way, is the UMM Commencement ceremony. I’ve got my strange medieval robes and funny hat all ready to go, and it’s going to be streamed live, so if you’re incredibly bored, you can watch me sweltering in the faculty stands somewhere in there.

Ugh. I just finished the major cleanup. I swept everything, turned over every box and mystery pile, went through it all with my acutely tuned eye for spiders…NOTHING. Not a one. I know they’re hiding somewhere in there, they’re just avoiding me.

Now we’re all sad and alone

We just got back from dropping Skatje and Iliana off at the airport — they’re on the way home. Now I have to go back to being my usual sour, cranky, black-hearted self.

I snapped that picture after telling Iliana, after a long, unpleasant drive, that now she gets to go home to her daddy. I think she only understood one word of that, but it was the important word.

Would you pay $600 for a liter of water?

Yet another reason to break out the tumblers and guillotines.

If you read the review of various over-priced bottled water brands, you’ll discover there exists a profession called “water sommelier”. Yeesh.

Meanwhile, in Flint, Michigan…

I guess I’m being sued, I guess

I’ve only heard about it indirectly, from people who noticed it on legal databases, but I haven’t been served yet…because Richard Carrier is acting as his own lawyer, and he flubbed something in the filing so no papers were delivered to the accused. I’m still waiting. At least we’ve got our lawyer primed and ready to respond.

I got a lot of the detail from this extraordinarily entertaining video. Rebecca Watson recounts some of the documents Carrier submitted himself, in his defense, to show that no, he’s not creepy and obnoxious, no sir. She reads his own “evidence”, which does a very good job of showing that he’s creepy, obnoxious, oblivious to criticism, and completely unaware of boundaries. It’s amazing how his own incel-like emails demonstrate his lack of awareness.

Now I just have to wait for my own copy of the filing. No hurry. It’s all another silly, futile exercise.

Still the one

This evening, my wife plunked a big box of old papers and junk in front of me and told me it was my job to sort it out and clean it up. I went through it obediently, even though I quickly discovered that it was mostly her old trash. There were a few gems scattered in there, though, and I pulled them out before tossing the rest into the recycling bin. It seems only fair that I get to post some of them.

Like her school photo from when she was in 4th or 5th grade.

Ah, yes. The Summer of Love, 1967. We were going to school together then. She’s still just as pretty, just a bit more mature, fortunately.

I guess it should be no surprise what happened 13 years later.

Now see what she’s done? She not only made me clean up her stuff, she sent me on a nostalgia trip.

Wily grandparents set cunning traps

We have a plan. First thing we’ve done is install a baby trap inside of our baby transport vehicle.

Once captured, the baby will be transported to our baby cage.

It’s a foolproof plan. Here’s the baby.

She arrives by plane tomorrow afternoon, we snare her upon arrival, and then race back to Morris. It’s going to work.

Unfortunately, this is a catch-and-release program, so we’ll send her back to Colorado early next week. That’s OK, though, this is kind of proof of concept, and we have a second grandbaby we can try and capture sometime.

That one may be more of a challenge, since he seems to be fully mobile and more capable of evasive maneuvers.