I’m not sure why my last post was sadder. Was it because I did not get an extra role in the Netflix series filming in my town this past week, or was it because I have a pathetic desire to get on television? Maybe both?
Well, I turned the page and snagged a movie role instead. Could there be an Oscar in my future? Definitely! I think Oscar is the name of the cameraman who will be filming the movie.
So, which movie? Here’s a synopsis.
And did I snag the lead role of old racist George?
Here in the USA, we just finished a 4 day holiday weekend. Some people still call it Thanksgiving, but as a Democrat, George Soros pays me to refer to the holiday as Pre-Slaughter of Indigineous People Day.
Anyway, I’ve had better holiday weekends. Since I received my Covid booster 10 days ago, I’ve been sick with respiratory symptoms. Do you think maybe that when I asked for my Covid shot, they actually injected me with the Covid virus? Did I need to be more specific that I wanted the Covid vaccine, not the virus? So, I was a bit logy on Thanksgiving when our kids came over. They couldn’t tell the difference.
I was disappointed in my oldest daughter on Thanksgiving. No, it wasn’t because her pasta was a bit too peppery, although it was. It was because she didn’t notice Yorick. You remember Yorick, right, my new real human skull? My wife, who has a keen eye for design decor, suggested I move Yorick to the other side of our fireplace mantle to provide more balance and symmetry. It works!
My daughter didn’t notice, and when I pointed out Yorick, she was appalled. And yet, she’s the same daughter who visited the catacombs in Paris to see the ossuaries packed with bones and skulls. When I visited Vienna, I headed underground to see the same thing. I figured she was a chip off the old block. Turns out that my daughter thinks that human remains should be kept underground and not passed around the family room. Looks like I raised an elitist!
I did feel a bit better yesterday, so my wife and I went out to dinner to celebrate our wedding anniversary. I was leaning toward a private, heated, plastic bubble at this restaurant.
I had dinner the other night with great friends that are more like brothers to me than my real brothers, which is actually quite easy since I am an only child. These guys are not the kind of brother that drinks or spits in your beer while you are out taking a leak, but the kind of brother that forgives you for forgetting his birthday. Oops, that’s exactly what happened. It was more coincidence than plan that we got together for dinner on the forgotten brother’s birthday. Just in case the forgotten birthday brother was mad, I made sure I didn’t go to the bathroom with my beer unguarded. I don’t think he was mad, but in a gesture of extreme generosity, we bought him a birthday dinner. We’re hoping he can be bought. I know I can.
The dinner was excellent, but one thing stuck in my craw, and I hate having a sticky craw. The forgotten birthday brother ordered an appetizer of deviled eggs which were delicious. The presentation looked something like this …
Is it just me, or can you also see the problem with those eggs?
When I’m feeling petty, the name that comes to my mind is Tom Petty, but in an effort to appeal to NASCAR fans, I figured I would include a pic of Richard Petty. Good luck packaging my occasional Trump-bashing blog rants to appeal to the NASCAR crowd, right?
Anyway, I am feeling very petty and vindictive thanks towards this restaurant …
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 