Dictum Ridiculum - June 2003

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Dictum Ridiculum: June 2003

Archived rants and raves from the main page of the Colin Campbell Network.

Sunday, June 29, 2003
Headline, Sub-headline
Every now and again, I see a headline on a story that just cries out for a response in the form of a sub-headline. Tonight’s winner comes to us from the Associate Press:
AP: Hundreds Say Goodbye to Strom Thurmond
CC: Thousands Say “Good Riddance”
And that’s how we play, “Headline, Sub-headline!” Paul? (MUSIC THEME UP AND OUT)
Sorry, just feeling extraordinarily Letterman-esque there.

Transmitted 10:37 PM PST | Link |

Saturday, June 21, 2003
Late Night Magic
You know, there used to be a time – and I’ve written of it before – where late night in Los Angeles meant a world of near-unlimited possibilities. (Or, at least, it was a world of golf, newsstand browsing, delicatessen trips, office supply shopping and groceries.) But over the past few years, for reasons that I can’t entirely pinpoint, the opportunities to do something in the late night hours seem to be disappearing. I think the economy may be to blame; after all, if you’re not selling a lot of office supplies between 8:00am and 11:00pm, what incentive do you have to keep the shop open 24 hours a day? Slowly but surely, a lot of things in my neighborhood that used to be open a lot later than normal are now keep much more reasonable hours.
As a night owl, I think this trend sucks.
For example, we have a nice chain bookstore on Ventura Boulevard, Bookstar, which has taken over the space once occupied by a theatre of some sort. The marquee and neon trim remain, adding a fun touch to this otherwise ordinary bookselling space. For many years, the sign outside read “Open Every Night Until 11:00pm,” which was great. Plenty of times, I’d be driving home from something else, see the store, see that it was just 10:15pm, and stop in for some impulse book buying.
These days, however, the “11:00pm” signs have all been changed; erased and replaced in a vaguely Orwellian manner, they now, in the same font and style as the old numerals, proclaim “10:00pm” as the store’s closing hour. Like they think we wouldn’t notice the vanished hour. I, of course, noticed, complained, and was met with a stifling wave of indifference. Fair enough; I didn’t like the change, and spoke my mind. (Thanks, Mom, for that particular part of my genome.)
Tonight, though …
Tonight was a magical night.
Because, as we all know, tonight was the night the new Harry Potter book went on sale at midnight, and not a minute earlier.
Now, I liked the first two Potter books as much as anyone else. I’m still working my way through number three, and number four looms large, both literally and figuratively, on the horizon. So there certainly was no reason for me to scoot out at the witching hour and buy a copy of a book that’s going to be around, in one form or another, until the end of life on Earth itself. (The sheer volume of copies printed rather ensures that, I would think.)
But I love the late night shopping. And the late night people watching. And there was plenty of both to be had at midnight tonight.
But when I first arrived at the store, I feared I’d missed the boat entirely. I was a little tardy in setting off on this journey, not leaving my house until about 12:05am. And when I arrived, there were more than a couple of parking spots available right in front of the store on Ventura Blvd. Dear goodness, I thought, maybe the whole thing has wrapped up!
Not a chance.
As I walked in to the store proper, I saw what can only be described as a magical madhouse.
Parents, teens, children, costumes, books, and even some sneaky late night pets filled every aisle near the front counter. It was just on the organized side of pure bedlam, but I could only imagine what had happened as the clock struck midnight! Store employees were handing out Harry Potter glasses to anyone who asked. (For the record, I didn’t ask, although just about every customer under the age of 15 apparently did.) Gussied up in witch (or sorting?) hats, the staff directed traffic as best they could. And, after picking up a “ticket” to ensure a book would be saved for me, shopping and browsing through the rest of the store’s offerings, and waiting for my number to be called, about 40 minutes later, I was on my way out the door, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix under my arm.
As much as I enjoyed the admittedly somewhat manufactured “event” aspect of the proceedings, there was nothing artificial about the genuine joy and excitement on the faces of the many kids (a vast majority in costume of some sort) who now have a new 870-page best friend. There was an energy in the air, an excitement, a magic as a real as any spell ever cast by Hermione. And it was all caused by a book. Not Pokemon, not Yu-Gi-Oh!, not Power Rangers, not a boy band, not a pop tart, but a book.
And that made me smile too.
Transmitted 01:59 AM PST | Link |

Friday, June 20, 2003
What’s Up in the ‘Plex?
Yeah, I know, a lot of you have been wondering, “Colin, what’s the dilly, yo? Did you stop going to movies? Where are my Monkey-Plex reviews?” Well, to tell the truth, from January to the start of May, I saw exactly zero first-run films. There just wasn’t anything out there that was going to separate me from my hard-earned ten (!) bucks. Oh sure, I bet some good films came and went, but there wasn’t anything that screamed “Come see me!” Daredevil? Uh … no. Colin Farrell’s Spy School with Al Pacino? Whatever.
Thankfully, with the arrival of the summer blockbuster season, I’m back in the habit of cinema-going, and this year, I’ve even checked out a few decidedly non-blockbuster flicks! So click on over to the Monkey-Plex, and be amazed. Did I like the way the Matrix was reloaded? Was Hollywood Homicide a crime? What’s the film I’m calling the best non-IMAX IMAX movie ever? Did I find Nemo any good? The answers to all of these questions, and more, can be found by clicking here.

Transmitted 12:22 AM PST | Link |

Thursday, June 19, 2003
A Long Dayquil’s Journey into Nyquil
That’s what I’ve been on recently, as a really annoying “Welcome to Summer” cold snuck up on me this week. There’s just something supremely lame about our pal the rhinovirus. I’ve been lucky over the past year or two, as this is just about the only cold I can remember causing a serious dent in my immune system. My ramen, chicken noodle soup, saltine, apple juice and Jell-O™ consumption was off the scale high this week, and that, combined with a heavy dose of TiVo … uh, I mean couch rest … seems to have prevented any major trouble.
Ah, but man, I love the ‘quil. (That’s what the kids on the street call Nyquil, FYI.) For those of us who’ve chosen to abstain from the wild world of drugs and drinking, the ‘quil is hardcore stuff. It almost makes the cold worth it … almost.
I’m an “annoyed” sick person, spending the vast majority of my sick time wondering why I wasn’t actively celebrating my many months of prior “non-cold” status. Didn’t I remember how great it was not to have a cold? Each time a cold comes to a conclusion, I make the same vow: Redouble my hand washing efforts (which, mathematically, should have me in the OCD realm by now), and give thanks for each day I get to spend cold-free.
Transmitted 11:53 PM PST | Link |

Monday, June 9, 2003
Getting In Touch With My Inner Duck
Yes, it’s true. I’ve been getting in touch with my inner Duck during the Stanley Cup finals. Under the “Regional Rooting Interest Act of 1934” (an especially obscure section of the U.S. Code), I was given what might be referred to as “hockey dispensation” to temporarily switch allegiances to the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim for the duration of the playoffs.
This was possible only because my primary team, the L.A. Kings failed to make it to the postseason, and while watching playoff hockey is fun, watching playoff hockey with a rooting interest is even more so. I’ve always admired the play of Duck captain Paul Kariya. Plus, I can’t stand the smug mucking New Jersey Devils.
This period of Duck Amnesty ended shortly before eight o’clock tonight, as did the championship dreams of the Ducks.
GO KIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGGSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!
I miss Mikko. See you on the ice next fall.

Transmitted 11:28 PM PST | Link |

Thursday, June 5, 2003
Leave it to Molly ...
Molly Ivins, that is, to remind us all of just how badly we're being lied to by our leaders. A copy of her most recent column addressing these important matters can be found at Working For Change, and it is well worth your time.
On a side note -- I like the name "Molly." Always have, always will. Which is why I'm sad it didn't make the Top 100 List of Baby Names in 2002, as compiled by the Social Security Administration.
It's actually quite an interesting list. For example, it turns out more people are naming their babies "Sebastian" than they are "Colin." This is wrong, people, just wrong. On the other hand, there's something to be said for having a unique name. 21,546 little girls born in 2002 will be called "Madison," in what I consider a shockingly high second place finish on the list of girls’ names. Presumably, 43,092 parents thought they were being cool and unique, and will undoubtedly be stunned to discover their children will be the "Jennifers" of a new millennium.

Transmitted 10:46 PM PST | Link |

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