Robin Masters.

A few things:

1. Today at work I endured a conversation with a random stranger about the seminal television program MacGyver. I love MacGyver, but I wouldn’t go back and watch it now if I could. In my memories it’s still great, and I don’t want those memories to be ruined, shattered, broken, rendered meaningless.

This random stranger really enjoyed MacGyver too, but not as much as I do, or did. Her devotion is not as strong as mine, nor her love as pure. Also, she kept saying “Magnum” when she meant “MacGyver.”

2. After she left, my co-worker and I made fun of her in a very subtle way. We started talking about Magnum, P. I. but we kept saying “Matlock.”

3. RIP Andy Griffith.

4. Remember the episode of Magnum, P.I. where he had to tread water in the ocean for, like, forever? Or, at least for near 45 minutes.

Yeah, it was good. At least… that’s how I remember it.

5. Remember the one where he died and was in a coma, more accurately, and was all astral and ghost-like and was floating around and hanging out people and solving a mystery but no one could see him or hear him?

You think I’m joking but that was totally real.

6. Unrelated… This is a picture of a dog and a bunch of tacos:

7. I can’t testify to full and clear total recall of the episodes, but I am positive that I have seen 100% of MacGyver the TV show (and TV movies after the show ended) in my life. I would wager that I have watched 87% of Murder, She Wrote the TV show (and TV movies after the show ended) in my life (some of it, or rather, a lot of it in the past year alone). I have probably watched something like 69% of Magnum, P.I. in my life, including the one where that show and Murder, She Wrote crossed over with each other, which I remember happening but don’t fully remember the details of, much to my chagrin.We’re not even going to waste our time talking about the time that Magnum, P.I. crossed over with Simon & Simon. We’re just not.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve probably only seen like 34% of Matlock the TV show in my life.

8. Did you ever watch The Rockford Files? It was good. I like James Garner. He’s one of the older actors that I tend to just like in whatever he’s doing.

He played Phillip Marlowe once. You should watch it. It was a silly movie, but highly underrated. Also, it had a really goofy but not terrible Bruce Lee bit part (and a famous scene) in it.

9. I don’t think that Tom Selleck would’ve made that great of an Indiana Jones.

Or, at least, you can only imagine his Indiana Jones as something so incredibly different from the one we all know and love that it is almost incomprehensible.

10. When I was a kid, my father had a great big mustache and wore a lot of Hawaiian shirts and baseball caps and short shorts.

He made faces like these a lot:

So, clearly, the fictional character of Thomas Magnum was my father’s style icon, right?

That seems weird now but maybe it wasn’t so weird back then. How the fuck should I know.

11. No joke: The Magnum, P.I. theme song has been my ringtone for over a year now. It’s the ringtone for calls from numbers that aren’t already in my address book. It was weird to me, considering that, when I spontaneously found myself in this conversation today at work.

12. Maybe it’s not all that weird.

13. Maybe it was fate?

14. Probably not.

15. T.C. was cool but Rick just seemed like an asshole to me.

16. A few nights ago Benjamin Light and I were talking about the future of our podcast and the caterpillar-like life of our blog and how it’ll soon turn into a beautiful and bewildering butterfly – watch for future announcements – and we were also mutually browsing around the internet, just talking and shitting the breeze and I remember reading somewhere that in other countries there confusions and mistranslations and people assumed that the title of the show was Magnum PI

Get it?

17. Anyway.

What a strange coincidence… The ringtone and the random factoid read about the internet and then the strange occurrence of the spontaneous conversation with a stranger about MacGyver but calling it Magnum and I’m trying to fix the broken web of time and it all leads to a journey down the clips show metaphor that is memory lane for me…

18. Maybe it’s not a coincidence. Maybe it’s just a thing, a thing that happens, and it has no meaning other than that which I assign to it?

19. Perhaps it’s no more important than anything, and not even real. Maybe I’m not real. Maybe I’m me, the me that I think I am and only sometimes comfortable with me. Maybe I’m really Zhuangzi, and I’m dreaming that I’m a butterfly.

20. It’s a bit of a stretch, I know, but my mind is still trudging through similar ditches as we slowly make our way towards the end of this blog. Perhaps I’m dancing around things, then taking a few steps backward before marching forward. The past can be a special place, and an odd place where things have different values and meanings assigned to him. Analyze what you can and appreciate the bizarreness of other things and leave them as they are, unmolested, uncontested. Making peace or at least coming to an understanding with your memories is a kind of time travel, and it’s how some of the best mysteries are solved, but don’t forget: The past can be a grotesque animal and you should always be mindful of how you’ll escape it.

21. Like I said… That’s a bit of a stretch, sure.

Also:

“Father figures” by Kevin Wada. I love it. Except for the KISS parts. Oh well.

22. After this… 82 posts to go.

Can you guess how it’ll end? I have an idea…

23. Maybe like this:

Slipstream.

Big sexy wormhole action.

Before work I stopped at the store to get some much needed ingredients to survive all the bullshit, mostly things filled to the brim with sugar or promising me “energy,” and the store was almost empty. Very few customers, stockers and empty boxes littering the aisles, and the checkout clerks were so bored by the lack of business that they didn’t really want to linger at the checkout stands amidst the gossip magazines and plethora of fruity, sugar free gums. In short, it was nice.

The general idea behind wormholes and shit like that.

There were a few other customers wandering aimless like myself. I happened to pass one such woman on the liquor aisle. Her eyes darted from cheap bottle of wine to cheap bottle of wine, not really focusing on anything, since she was talking on her cell phone.

Ha ha, ahhhh yes, things are always funnier and easier to understand when simplified down to cat science.

All I could hear as I approached her initially was, “Uh huh, got it,” followed by, “Uh huh, got it,” and then again, “Uh huh, got it.”

Here we go.

A normal enough conversation, but then, right as I’m passing her, I hear her say into the phone, “Wait, what?! She said what to you? Oh no. No! You tell her this for me, you tell her, you say… GET IN MAH WORMHOLE!”

Tiny hole.

The last part didn’t come out of her mouth until I had just passed her, the words hitting the back of my head and my ears and causing a chain reaction of surprised hysterical laughter within me so hard that I dropped whatever few groceries I was carrying. The desire to laugh lingered all day, right up until now as I replay it in my mind while typing this.

GET IN MAH WORMHOLE!

Saturdays are boring.

It’s a Saturday morning, somewhere in the vicinity of 7 AM as I type this (who knows when I’ll post it, could be days knowing me), and I’m stuck here at work. Ugh.

In the parking lot outside are 9 cars and about thirty people commiserating before compiling into problably an easier carpooling configuraion and driving to the nearby local air show. The other day someone asked me why I was working instead of going to the air show. My answer was in two parts:

1) I don’t give a shit as I’m above the age of 6.

2) Haven’t you ever seen any TV show where they show “real life” videos? People die at air shows, man!

Anyway, the people in the parking lot are drinking. I can see the suds and foam of beers in the early morning sunlight from where I sit passively blogging away. I’m tempted to go out and tailgate with them, just a little bit. I’ll pretend I know them, throw out some stories about how I’m here as a friend of Gary’s and “AIR SHOW WOO HOOOO pass me another cold one, okay?” I’ve done this kind of thing before, no worries.

This is billed as the ultimate tailgate trailer. I keep for the humanity that devoted scientists to concoct this.

I’ve joked about it before but I have crashed a funeral before. Or a wake. Whatever part of the thing it was where the mourning was still going on but there was wine and finger food. It’s not as sexy as when Will Ferrell does it in Wedding Crashers but I won’t lie. It’s got a certain allure.

Fuck me, a Saturday at work. I lied and told Lollipop that I wasn’t going to work today, but mostly because I realized that she’s semi-expertly deduced a good majority of my schedule based on my email frequency and gchat availability. Not bad on her part. Sorry, Lollipop, I was half being sarcastic this morning when I said I wasn’t going to work this morning and half just flat out lying. You know how I do.

Saturdays are boring. Well, no, that’s not true Sundays are boring, but I tend to cram a lot of adventure into them, so I’m not going to knock them too much. Saturdays are that make or break down of your typicalweekend adventure.

It’s been Robert Altman week over at This Recording this past week and it’s been excellent, as they usually do. Definite highlights include Tyler Coates’ write up of Nashville, Molly Lambert talking about California Split and menfolk in general, and Georgia Hardstark on (and off) McCabe and Mrs. Miller. Oh, and Molly Young, of course, on The Long Goodbye. Such a weird, wonderful film, that one.

Especially since, back in the 70s, I feel you really only had two viable male role model ideals coming out of the film industry: Elliot Gould and Han Solo. I may not actually mean that, but it’s early and it sounds good and authoratative.

I’m a little sad that no one did anything on one of my favorite entries in the Altman filmography, Images. I should talk about it at some point. I remember I once was talking abot films with August Bravo and I told him he should see Images because it was great and I loved it and that was enough of  reason. This was in emails or text messages and he said, “Yeah, I’ll definitely look for it.”

A half an hour later he texted/emailed me and said, “I’ll probably never see that movie. Whatever it was.”

Ha ha! That’s fine, August, that’s cool. Didn’t hurt my feelings at all. Bros! By the way, I slept with your girlfriend. I don’t know which, but one of them, okay?

In case you’re curious: This is how men of good camraderie one up each other in a playful and fun way. It invovles our penises and not our brains, so it’s easier for us to retain knowledge about movies we like, nacho stylings, and keeping straight whether we’re tits or ass or legs men. That’s really what we’re all about for the most part.

Of course I’m referring to straight men above. For gay men, bicurious men, or asexual men, or men who are in the process of changing which gender box they put the check mark in on when they’re applying for jobs in these tough recession-drenche times, it’s essentially the same, just give or take a few things.

To prove it, hardcore man-style, I’m going to march outside and have  few beers at the pre-air show tailgate party, scream out a few sports-esque things as if I know what I’m talking about, like, “PUT PETE ROSE IN THE HALL OF FAME ALREADY FOR FUCK’S SAKE, YOU ANIMALS!” Somebody will then invariably have car trouble and I’ll say, “I’ve been drinking, so don’t worry, I know what I’m talking about,” and I’ll fix their engine with a hammer. Then I’ll club one of the women over the head (not with the hammer, mind you, that’d be monstrous) and drag her back to my love nest. I’d like to say that we’ll probably do something adult and very kinky there, but we’ll probably just watch Images and discuss it over some nachos. It’s tragic, but this is how I tend to roll more often than not.

And what are you doing with yourself today?