I regret that I’ll never know if the guy who designed this logo was busting his ass to make it look retro or was completely oblivious.

From the aging on this van though, I’d guess it’s the latter over the former.

There’s such an effort made to recreate the past these days. 80s nostalgia, 90s callbacks, etc. The possibility of this design being legit gives me hope for people who don’t change with the trends. They stick with what they like, regardless of the latest fashion.

If this guy IS oblivious to the radness of this, but suddenly realized it, he’d probably fuck it up by trying too hard to be retro.

Secondly, I regret that I decided to “save some for later.”

Though by “some,” I mean two squares. And by “later,” I mean this morning for breakfast.

“Hey, fatty. I’ve got a movie for ya’: A Fridge Too Far!”

I regret the unfortunate loss of Walker Community Church last night.

They’re not revealing what caused the fire at this point. Could’ve been lightning, although I’ve heard theories that it was arson. I honestly hope it wasn’t the latter. Though you’ll notice the prominent rainbow flag on the left there. So, close-minded idiocy can’t be totally ruled out, I guess.

Walker has always been a open supporter of the LGBT community, embracing people as they are rather than keeping folks from their doors. 

They’ve also been a hub for many theaters throughout the years. I truly believe that the last few productions I saw there were better off because of Walker’s open space.

A fantastic place of worship, culture & entertainment.

Bringing worlds together that sometimes never cross. And now it’s been completely razed.

Most people who know me know that I’m not the most religious guy in the world. I mean, I believe what I believe. And I don’t need to share it, brag about it or spit in an unbeliever’s face in order to prove it.

That being said, I’m thinking about the congregation that’s been put out. I’m also putting out positive thoughts to the five firefighters who were injured while battling the blaze.

But I’m going to be selfish here for a moment. My greatest hope is that the theaters who called Walker a home find a new place that’s this incredibly inspirational.

I regret missing my calling as a fortune cookie scribe.

The ones we get from Cleveland Wok come from Asian Foods in St. Paul.

So, since the very concept of the fortune cookie is far from Chinese in the first place, what good are these so-called fortunes really?

I think most people in this goofy-ass world need something along the lines of:

- Your brand of smartphone says less about you than you think.

- Comedy is subjective. But if you don’t like the Marx Brothers, you don’t know comedy.

- Buying a pair of shoes based on “cute” is foolish. Ask yourself, “Do they fit?”

- Stop complaining about the President. Try a day in his shoes, THEN complain.

- Buying librarian glasses & seeing comic book movies doesn’t make you a geek. You have to be born that way. 

- Picard > Kirk. Get over it.

- People will always remember the last good thing you did for them. Or the last time you got them off.

- Don’t fear the zombie apocalypse. Fear the cereal mascot apocalypse. The possibility is greater.

- Buying music that’s being played on the radio means you’re still in your teens. Otherwise, you have no taste. 

- If you live down South, you should be doing your best to rail against the stereotypes.

- That cartoon you loved as a kid? Watch it again. It seriously hasn’t held up.

Okay, these are miserable excuses for fortunes. In fact, they’re not really fortunes at all. But aren’t we ready for more straightforward talk from our cookies these days? 

Ah, a nice slew of regrets for today. They’re coming fast & loose, people, so stay frosty.

I regret that I never bothered to patent the cootie catcher.

Whether that’s what you called it or not, you probably made one in elementary school. Or you were subjected to the dreaded tell-your-future test that it dished out around the same time.

Well, I saw one of them while at Michael’s today with the wife.

And seeing the price tag on this thing reminded me that I’m not a billionaire by now.

Next, I regret the idea of RPGs involving actual history.

If anything, I’m a purist of the highest order when it comes to this kind of stuff. Dipping my wick into an early D&D campaign was about as far as I went back when this shit was new.

But THIS?

Reenacting the battle of Pensacola, eh? Ugh.

Here’s the thing. I’m not a huge RPG guy in the first place. 

Maybe it’s the people. (Nothing against them, you understand.) My geek quotient is high enough with all the comic book hang-ups.

But if I WAS one of them, I’d want the chance to beat the shit out of THIS bastard.

Or a shot at fingerbanging a succubi. 

And since I flunked out of history, I wouldn’t have much use for it during my recreation, thanks. Don’t try to teach me shit while I’m dorking around. In other words, I don’t want to learn anything while I’m being nerdy.

Speaking of which, I regret that after years & years of playing it, I just now got to THIS screen of Jungle Hunt.

It happens after you jump over the natives & save the girl from the boiling pot. Honestly never made it that far until today. I know. It IS sad.

Finally, I regret the existence of Darkhawk.

If you’re not into comics, I’ll give you the high level intel:

- The 90s were a shitty, shitty time for the industry

- Both majors tried introducing new characters to resuscitate the scene

- Darkhawk was one that they tried to slide in

- He lasted 50 issues & continued to make cameos afterwards

- Oh, yeah! He sucks in every conceivable way

Seriously, I’d rather be held at gunpoint & force fed back issues of Power Pack until my stomach exploded & blood shot out of my rectum than buy something as assy as “Darkhawk Classic.”

I don’t think you have to be a comic book fan to realize what I’m talking about here.

I have a series of these types of regrets. Because when I see something like this out in the world, it just makes me sad.

I regret that somebody felt like they lost a friend.

At least enough to ditch their bracelet.

I regret fat bastards who cut in front of me in line.

That’s right, tubby. I actually had my eye on that pastry. Good thing you got there “first.”

I’m in this joint every day. And come to think of it, so are you! There’s protocol here. Etiquette, you know?

And will you please take off your creepy Jame Gumb headwear while you’re walking around?

Are the fonts on your screen really as tiny as the golf pencil you call a dick?

I also regret that one of my co-worker’s kids reminds me of Danny Torrance from “The Shining.”

It’s uncanny! Luckily he’ll grow out of it soon.

But not until he has some kind of harrowing experience.

Listen to Hallorann, doc. He won’t steer you wrong.

And lastly, I regret that some guy decided to chomp on a Riesen while shaking the dew off his branch.

Now THAT’S multitasking. Why not just take a slice of cake into the stall while you’re at it?

You, sir, are sheer class.

I regret that I only just found out about this place today.

See, this is one of the reasons I love downtown Minneapolis. How the F does this place still exist? Incredible.

Even though I didn’t go in, I’m making it my mission to make that happen soon. It’s gotta be seriously badass in there.

I also regret how much unholy ass I would kick if I were a contestant on THIS show:

I’d never actually try out, of course. I’m sure my excessive swearing would immediately take me out of the running.

Sad, really. Because all of my early Christian school education would win me enough cash to bust the shit out of one of those bread loaf banks.

“Couple of things on the eye of the stove” as my Mother is apt to say.

I regret the amount of electric shocks it took to get this dog to do this.

Ironic, isn’t it? This is about pet rights & yet there’s no way in Hell this pooch did this all by his lonesome. So much electricity pumped into his plump little body. Sad, really.

I regret absolutely illegible graffiti. 

Taggers must secretly hate being anonymous. They must despise that they don’t have the freedom to be able to point at something like this & say, “That’s right. I did that. Me! Chilum Squigglymark. Or as I’m sometimes known, Lui Lui Uncrossed T.”

And finally, I regret that David Coverdale

probably never paid a red cent to Robert Plant for ripping off his vocal style.

And that Robert Plant

probably never paid a red cent to Small Faces’ vocalist Steve Marriott for ripping off HIS vocal style.

Though maybe I’m all wrong on this last regret. Maybe I’m just hearing what I want to hear.

To the Internet!

Fuck YOU, Internet.

Fuck you to Hell.

SpringCon has sprung once again. And if you’ve ever been to a comic convention, you may already know where today’s regret is going.

But like most days, I’ll be taking you down one hallway, while I release various horrors from the elevators. And once they’ve been dispatched with our AKs, we’ll end up in a lower chamber you might not’ve known existed.

That being said, I don’t regret the typical list of stereotypically shitty things that are normally associated with these kinds of events.

Tables & tables of subpar artists.

Stacks & stacks of vintage erotica.

Nerdy jack-offs hassling vendors about comic book quality.

Bootleg DVDs of shows, which are either commercially available or totally unwanted.

Vendors who wear tags labelled “The Guru,” sitting at tables that offer no comics at all.

Gamers who make a long line even longer by talking ad nauseum about how they killed orcs or horehounds or some such bullshit.

Geeks who hit on cosplay dimes who’re clearly only working a nearby table.

Speaking of which, let me interrupt this by saying I came across a nice mixture of good cosplay & bad, which is normally the highlight of this nutty experience.

You make the call as to which categories these fit into. It’s all subjective.

Anyhoo, I don’t actually regret any of these potential regrettable things. 

Let me set this up on the tee by saying that during this year’s SpringCon I met Hal.

He saw my Butthole Surfers t-shirt while I was eating & mentioned that he went to school at Trinity in San Antonio with Gibby & Paul. And after a bit of mutual geek talk about such stellar albums as “Psychic…Powerless…Another Man’s Sac” & “Locust Abortion Technician,” Hal launched into his life.

Among the highlights:

- Spent most of his 20s/30s in college, rudderless

- Busted his ass to take the LSAT & get into law school

- Worked in a highly profitable New Orleans law firm

- Specialized in maritime law

- Got disbarred & divorced after a cocaine problem

- Essentially lost it all because of this

- Been in & out of treatment for more than 10 years

Obviously, this was a long, long conversation. (The maritime law section was the bulk of it.) 

DAY 503 could’ve easily been about how I generally regret that I’M the guy that people unload on. It’s true. If there’s an ear to be bent in the room, I’m the bastard that these kinds of jokers seek out.

But I don’t regret meeting & talking to Hal. Far from it.

I regret that I’m usually too shortsighted to realize that bad shit like this isn’t reserved to people who deserve it. Whether he brought it on himself or not, Hal’s spent the better part of his life trying to make up for his mistakes. And maybe my ears need to be bent more often to keep that in mind.

I regret getting stuck behind people in the drive-thru tonight who clearly had never used one.

Where do these dingleberries come from? I mean, isn’t it just a given that if you’re driving a multi-passenger car, each person should just chime in & get it over with?

Maybe I’m spoiled because that’s how I do it. I order for me, passenger orders for passenger & so on. And if I’m alone, FUCK! The drive-thru process basically takes 5 seconds at most.

These mental midgets were apparently just as confused by the 2nd window.

And as I was driving away, I found them in the parking lot. Stalled.

The passenger door swung open is a classy touch, I think.

And when you add the horsey/dog foody taste of my gordita crunches to this situation, RESPLENDENT!

It’s DAY 500 of this bitch. And unlike some people, I’m not breaking my arm by patting myself on the back for writing 500 days straight. It’s a blog by a writer. Like most writers, maybe I should be sucking my own dick. But my celebrating it with some special entry won’t change the fact that it’s paramount to a 500th, 1000th or 5000th tweet (AKA as useless as anything else on these cyberwebs).

Okay, prickish rant over.

So, I bought a shitload of CDs today at Electric Fetus.

That’s not my regret. In fact, I hope it never is. Scratch that, I doubt it ever will be.

Okay, here’s the list:

And the last on that list?

Now, me? I love me some eccentric keyboard shit. Especially if a former Mother Of Invention is involved. And if it ain’t George Duke,

that means it’s going to be Don Preston. The illustrious Dom De Wild. 

Preston was with Zappa from 1967-74, one of longest-lasting Mothers, in fact. He played in the background of some of the most oddball, influential albums of all time. From “Trout Mask Replica” to The Residents’ “Eskimo.”

I own a few Zappa bootlegs. And something you find with that kind of stuff is that every once & a while, there’s a live track that never got committed to wax like it should’ve been. One of those tracks was an instrumental attributed to Don Preston called “Eye Of Agamotto.” 

That cool, circular amulet on Dr. Strange’s chest? Yeah, the song’s named after that.

Anyhoo, I thought it might be on this album. Alas, I was fucking wrong. It’s mostly ambient, analogue bloops & bleeps. Which I’m normally all over.

But I regret that I’m so willing to drop cash on something, sight unseen, just because there’s a Zappa connection.

WHEN IS THIS GONNA’ STOP?

I regret that Urban Financial Group backed the wrong horse with their spokesman.

Yup! That’s Robert Wagner.

Now, I get what they’re doing. They’re targeting the people in his age group with an actor of their generation.

OLD CODGER - Hey, THAT’S Robert Wagner! This company “gets” me. (dials old-timey rotary phone, gets out checkbook, pets mummified cat on lap, snorefarts)

It’s the same as when Art Linkletter heartily endorsed the game of Life.

Or Wilford Brimley got on that diabetes kick.

The point is, I get it. They’re trying to relate to these folks.

But Robert Wagner?!?!

He’s done it for other “financial” companies in the past, so maybe he’s a sure fit.

But I’m figuring people his age aren’t remembering him for his dashing turn as Prince Valiant from the 1954 film of the same name.

Or his age-defying performance alongside the MILFy dime Stefanie Powers in “Hart To Hart.”

No. See, if these oldsters are anything like my mother-in-law, they can only think of ONE THING when Wagner’s mug pops up on their “story boxes.”

Uh-huh. Natalie fucking Wood. 

Man, Urban Financial Group is getting ballsier & ballsier with their backdrops.

You’re the Ted Kennedy of actors, pal. Sheer class. Slippery as an eel & lucky as a rabbit’s foot.

I just hope there’s enough room in your ring of Hell for all those Urban Financial employees. Old Scratch don’t give a fuck. Accessories to the crime get in for free.