Get ready

Achewood is the ............. ok, the world's best internet comic. I was going to say Hark A Vagrant is, but

1. I can't do that to Chris after reading loyally for like 5 years here

2. Achewood has the greatest story arcs ever and

3. Onstad's illustrative style is so concise and brilliant in ways that defy description other than HILAR

It's true and don't think I just have bad taste if you stumble upon a lame or connective strip.

Anyway, summer's coming to the desert (it's 100 degrees and I still say "coming") and that means many S.A.D. times ahead for me. In my world, there are no bikinis, tans or pool parties to celebrate the summer. There is only a darkened apartment, an air conditioner, and re-runs of Antiques Roadshow. I stop being able to tolerate an active routine above approx 103 degrees. It's called reverse seasonal affective disorder; I invented it just like I invented cropping the "er" off of "whatever".

I was reminded of it by this strip in which we glimpse Beef's falltime sadness. Probably want to view larger. Molly watches from afar and becomes excited as Beef somehow summons the strength to complete his bite into a piece of toast in spite of inadequate amounts of sunshine in his life.

I'm not a comic person. But Chris Onstad and Kate Beaton are brilliant and I can't fight it.

affirmations

what?! NEWS TO ME.

CL4E

One of the brightest luminaries in my list of favorite personalities and eccentrics is Carole Lombard. Tragic and beautiful, one of the most magnetic combinations, although I would in no way call her life tragic - just her death.

Other than being a miniature-sized tomboy with a penchant for blue language, she also happened to be an icily beautiful blonde with an unlikely flair for comedy. Seems that everyone who met her raved about her unpretentious and charming ways.

I think her whole life was interesting. She was married to Bill Powell, for god's sake. She's like the thinking woman's Jean Harlow (ouch, sorry Jean). Incidentally, Jean spent some time with Bill as well. You can see Carole and Bill getting along amicably post-divorce in My Man Godfrey. It comes recommended.

Carole was in a pretty bad car accident early in her career and had to undergo reconstructive facial surgery because of it. She did this without anesthetic as the belief of the day was that anesthetics caused worse scarring. Sorry, but THEY PUT HER FACE BACK TOGETHER WITH NO DRUGS. SHE WAS AWAKE. That's...pretty serious business.

Eventually she fell for loser Clark Gable, whose caddishness was probably lessened greatly by his relationship with Carole, however not enough to prevent rumors of an affair with Lana Turner a couple of years into the marriage. Carole had a particularly strong sense of American patriotism and was touring the country selling war bonds with her mother at the time. She caught wind of this affair and insisted that she and her mother fly back to Hollywood immediately, so immediately that instead of waiting for a commercial flight, she managed to get two seats on a military plane headed west. Her mother pleaded that they take a train due to a recent dark premonition about flying, but Carole wouldn't have it.

The plane went down somewhere over Nevada and everyone on board was killed. Carole was posthumously awarded a medal of freedom in 1942 by Roosevelt and called the first woman killed in action in WWII for her support.

I BLAME CLARK

oh this tumblr is right up my alley. that's how i feel about the victorians too: fuck yeah!

and this one.

honestly, i'm still a little perplexed by tumblr. it's like a blog...just for photos? which are never credited and are constantly stolen by other tumblr users? ok. all i know is keep it coming with the creepy photos of swedish models in furs riding one-eyed wolves by the light of the moon, and shit.

Best cover. Best Cure era.

Friday.

Went to the Bikeen for the first time in a while. They had the swamp running - must be the first time I've been in a swamp-cooled place in a long time. The slightly moist coolness and the smell took me right back to my grandmother's house as a child. She held out against a regular a/c until '89 or '90...Unbelievable in Phoenix, but yanno, "the greatest generation" and all that, Tom Brokaw wasn't kidding. She was no puss. Anyway it was a very welcome sensation and rather nostalgic.

I think I had a dream about this shop. Magical marshmallow creampuff confection of sickeningly sweet supplies.

First Friday is now a cordoned-off street fair for minors.

The "chapel shot" is comprised of cheap, off-brand whiskey and a dirty bullet. Can't be havin' with that.

Neither can Cindy.

Arm-wrassling. Cindy beat my ass twice, instantly, and then asked, "...Really?" I've become soft, but it ends here.

I feel like I just posted this video a couple of months ago. Did I? Who cares. I wish it played on the insides of my eyelids.

I love Patty Pravo doing this song and Donyale Luna is mesmerizing.

And while I am on youtube instead of working, here is a tender clip from one of my favorite movies, The Man Who Came to Dinner. The situation: Bette's character is a lonely spinster workaholic who has suddenly and unexpectedly come into the possession of a love life! Her needy employer is not pleased.

Classic. "I have. Everyone has. They love it."

I love these two for different reasons.

Notes

ACLU fact sheet: myths about immigrants - In case you were wondering.

But let me move to more enjoyable things, like George Harrison. Specifically, George Harrison on Dick Cavett. It's been a while since I've mentioned Dick. I wonder what he's doing right now. I think he is reading a book.

These are a must-watch. There are more parts on youtube.

I love how terribly normal and uncomfortable he seems. He doesn't necessarily want to be there, but the magic of Cavett evidently lured him. If he can get Hepburn he can get Harrison. George has a very subtle and dry sense of humor, dry so that it probably made most people a little uncomfortable, wondering if he was serious, what he meant.