Regret-A-Day

Exactly what it sounds like. Life's full of regret. And I've made it my mission to post at least one per day. Join me, won't you?


Gimme Danger   Submit

DAY 1347

CAVEAT: I just reread this post. It’s particularly brutal & full of rage, basically reflecting the hateful place my head’s at right now. Some of it may spill out on you.* Or maybe I’m just saying what you’re thinking. 

Just remember this: if you’re offended somehow, ISIS wins. 

Fuck me running. Today’s post is about things that shouldn’t even be Goddamned things. And that’s why I regret the existence of them all equally & for only slightly different reasons.

Let’s take the lighter one first. We’ll ramp up later.

image

Listen, I’m a HUGE supporter of local businesses. But a joint in Burnsville, MN called Anser Innovation is shoving this out pretty soon:

image

I’ll let you figure this one out for yourself. It’s called PetChatz.

Get it?

image

GET it?

image

GET IT!

image

Yeah. It’s not a tough leap.

image

The point is, fuck this. Fuck this on a few levels:

• FUCK THE ENTIRETY OF THIS PUDDINGHEAD IDEA

image

If you own a pet & suffer from “separation anxiety,” consider one of the following options:

A) Don’t own a fucking pet in the first place, you knob

OR

B) Quit your job & die penniless with your starving pet

• FUCK THE PUDDINGHEADS WHO’D ACTUALLY BUY IT

image

Look, spend your money any way you want for all I care. But you’ve just proven DEVO & Mike Judge’s point if you buy this. You’ve officially de-evolved.

• FUCK THE PUDDINGHEAD PRICE POINT ON THIS THING

image

Oh, that’s just the beginning. You wouldn’t wanna be a fucking dunce & be caught without all the accessories, right? RIGHT?

image

image

image

So, what, you’re in the hole for how much now? Roughly $450.

I mean, I like to think I’ve got a little savings & a measly amount of disposable income, but even my fucking CAT wouldn’t stand for such a fucking puddinghead idea.

image

MY CAT - Hmmmmmmm. There’s that asshole again.

image

MY CAT - Yeah, fuck this.

Okay, next.

I don’t give a fuck about football.

image

And you know what? Neither should you. Because the sub-mental bloodsuckers running this show don’t give a high-ditty shit about you.

image

They only care about selling tickets. And no matter how many times some pituitary case shows his real self,

imageimage

the corporation will continue NOT giving a fuck. Which means YOU’LL continue NOT giving a fuck. Which makes you as heartless as the corporation is.

So, to recap. Buy a ticket, support a felon.

image

Or stop watching football & maybe they’ll get the message.

image

It’s a lot to ask, I know. And I don’t know why I’m wasting my time suggesting it. You won’t do it anyway. Because, like most of America, you have a weakness for wife-beating, child-abusing millionaires. 

And I regret that that’s how it works.

Lastly, THIS.

image

I’ve already railed against Urban Outfitters more times than I can remember. Mostly it was about stupid shit like the fact that they carry vinyl that NONE of their vapid demographic could possibly appreciate.

Or the fact that they’re selling the dumbest fashion known to turd.

But THIS? This is a different thing altogether.

image

Now they’re playing the innocent card on a vintage Kent State shirt they put out into the world.

Just read this & try to figure out what’s so regrettable about it:

image

Who’s the chowderfuck writing your retractions? Goebbles?

image

No, it couldn’t be.

For one, he’s long dead. And for two, Hitler’s Minister of Propaganda might’ve been deviously evil, but he wouldn’t have been THIS FUCKING STUPID.

image

This “one-of-a-kind item” was immediately snatched up & then posted on eBay for an asking price of $2500.

image

Although there was a semi-positive spin on it in the end.

image

Or, you know, just fucking destroy it or donate it to a museum or some shit. 

Jesus. 

Ultimately, this is Urban Outfitters’ shitshow, who I’ll be giving a little bit of advice to starting now:

Read a Goddamned history book before selling something you found in the crawlspace of your supermodel torture chamber. That way you’ll be doing a little research before engorging on so much of Satan’s molten, double-headed snakecock.

image

* I warned you.

DAY 1346

You know the MAIN reason I hated the Star Wars prequels?

image

It’s the exact same reason why Patton Oswalt hated the prequels:

image

I don’t give a SHIT where the stuff I love comes from. I just love the stuff I love.

image

Hey, do you like Angelina Jolie? She give you a big boner? Well, here’s Jon Voight’s BALL SACK.

image

That’s right. The pink, glistening ball sack she SWAM out of.

Well, news flash, I feel the same about THIS upcoming shitshow.

image

Ooooooo, look! It’s Bruce Wayne, Jr. And Catgirl. And, HOLY FUCK, is that a young Detective Gordon?

image

Holy shit! A pre-Penguin Oswald Copperpot?!!? Somebody’s been reading my DREAM JOURNAL!!!!

image

Look, if you’re jizzing your own balls over this, if this is EXACTLY what you’ve been waiting for, if this is right up your alley, I’m happy for you.

Maybe you’ll feel the same way these dunderhead critics feel:

image

But I regret the fact that THIS is the direction a DC franchise is going. I mean, GREAT, you’re pushing out a “Flash” series.

image

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

Kudos for somehow greenlighting another one about Constantine.

image

"Derp."

I just regret that the people responsible for making these decisions can’t see how even FARTHER behind Marvel they’re going. 

image

Shaddap’ you face. No, you’re fucking not.

The needle’s going the wrong way, you ding-a-lings. Once you decide to toss in a cape & cowl, lemme know.

image

I MIGHT watch.

DAY 1345

There was a time when I was a car collector. 

image

Okay, maybe that’s not the preferred nomenclature. The point is, I used to collect THESE.

image

It was a simpler time. Before I knew what a “Star Wars” was

image

& well before I had any interest in girls,

image

I was highly addicted to little cars.

image

And like most kids, I wasn’t exactly brand-loyal. No, I was an unabashed, die-cast car whore.

image

Didn’t care which company I was getting my fix from. And as far as what I stored them in, I might as well have been mixing my Coke with my Pepsi.

image

This thing was filled to the brim with any vehicle I could get my grubby little hands on. And I had shitloads, most of which tended to be melded with whatever flavor-of-the-month, pop cultural garbage that was happening at the time.

image

But eventually, my interest in these things waned when I realized I could coat them in my mother’s nail polish & light them on fire.

image

The STOVE!?!?! Of COURSE! I wish I’d thought of that.

Luckily I didn’t do the same with my pets, otherwise I probably would’ve wound up a serial killer. 

Well, unlike most things in my life, I was able to easily turn my back on this & never look back.

image

Until now.

image

Why, God? Why?

Look, I already covered Atari’s nothing-to-lose attitude towards co-branding

image

so it’s not exactly a surprise that they’re putting out crazy-cool, geeky stuff like this.

image

And like their Atari/Denny’s merger, I don’t exactly regret that this is going on. In fact, THIS makes more sense than a set of video games involving greasy menu items.

But the worst part is regretting the fact that I may actually be pulled back into car collecting after all these years.

imageimageimageimage

Oh, c’mon! Really? That 2600 TOTALLY looks like an EM-50 Urban Assault Vehicle.

image

Damn, dude. You’re fucking killing me over here.

image

"And then, depression set in."

_______________________________________________________________

BONUS REGRET:

Ummmmm, seeing this. I’ll let you figure out which part I’m talking about.*

image

* HINT: ALL of it.

DAY 1344

We don’t really know anybody. We always wish we did, but that doesn’t change anything. 

Take two recent losses we’ve faced in the entertainment industry.

imageimage

These guys had proper demons.

To a casual observer, these demons were invisible. But to these two men, the demons perched on their shoulders day-in & day-out. 

Even the people we THINK we’re close to are still miles away. And those we SHOULD know like the back of our hands are usually the ones we know the least about in the long run. 

John Lilleberg was like that for me.

image

He was in the first show I ever saw in the Twin Cities, even before I’d done my first show here. Then in 2002, I found myself as the drummer in a demented, three-piece orchestra for a show at TRP called “A Night At The Black Pig.”

image

There were 30 talented actors in this fucker. Many of whom I’d work with again over the years. And Lilleberg was one of them. 

Okay, see where that chair is center stage? Train your eyes up a bit. Right above that dark vom is where the orchestra was placed.

image

This meant that we spent a majority of the show just watching what was happening onstage. Which in some shows COULD be a horrible existence. But I figured out a system that made it all bearable.

I decided to watch a different actor’s path throughout the show every night.

image

Again, we’re talking about 30 actors here. The possibilities were endless.

But about two or three performances in, I found that I only focused on Lilleberg. And this continued every damn night of the run. 

image

His character - apart from all the others - embodied a sense of pent-up lunacy. A rumbling underneath that the audience was only seeing a part of. Something you strive for as an actor.

Not showing everything. Just enough to make the audience wonder. 

It’s something I immediately stole from him. 

Years later, I’d do a one-man show called “Thom Pain (based on nothing).” And I’m happy to admit that at least 75% of what I brought to it was a sense of “What-Would-Lilleberg-Do.” 

image

Not showing everything. Just enough to make the audience wonder. 

Not long before that, I recommended him for a feature I was working on with Collision Pictures.

image

The director was looking for an actor who could play the part of a priest. But this character needed to be someone who was offering solace, while looking like he himself had his own demons to struggle with.

image

John was fucking IT, dude. It’s a small role, but his performance REALLY stands out for me

The last time I saw him & one of the few times I ever worked with him was in 2012.

image

Basically a three-man job, “Viscosity” was like going back to school for me. I’m acting across from a dude who had a MASSIVE effect on what I perceived acting to be. And yet when I watch it, I see how much I’m fucking acting & how effortless Lilleberg is making it all look.

image

All this comes down to regretting that I knew John, but I never really KNEW him. You know what I’m saying?

image

Every time I’d see him in person, it was like meeting some big screen idol. Even though he never acted that way. Lilleberg was the quietest man in whatever room I was in with him.

Honestly, he always reminded me of John Milner from “American Graffiti.”

image

Something under the hood going 100 mph.

image

I regret that the Twin Cities lost such a stellar talent. I regret that the world has lost the same.

image

One more thing.

I’ve been writing a screenplay for years. The main character is an indie filmmaker who faded into obscurity, but is suddenly thrust back into the spotlight, digging his heels all the way.

That main character has always been John in my mind.  

image

I’ve written it in his voice, using all his mannerisms. Every time a line of dialogue hits the page, I can see John Lilleberg saying it. 

He’s a character haunted by proper demons. And maybe it’s selfish of me, but I regret that NO ONE could possibly play that role now. 

DAY 1343

Obviously, every American can answer this question about 9/11.

image

I was rehearsing a touring show in Boston that morning.

I’d woken up at 8:30 am, strolled leisurely down the street to the rehearsal space, passing drunks looking at their watches, while they waited for the corner bar to open.

image

As I walked up the stairs to the rehearsal space, I could hear a news report being broadcast. Then I found my cast huddled around the TV.

image

That was my first glimpse of what was going on. And I still remember making an ill-conceived, poorly timed “Project Mayhem” joke.

image

Yeah. Reeeeeeeeeal smooth, Cliff.

When I realized it was the real deal, I felt pretty horrible. Especially when some of my cast members couldn’t get in touch with friends & family in NYC.

image

That’s when one of our producers bolted in & said something to this effect:

BOSTON THEATER PRODUCER - Guys, I know this is a difficult time. So, if you need some time to chill out for a bit, please do that. Wanna make any phone calls at the office? Be our guest. But I need to tell you this in all seriousness. We open in a week, so whatever you do, DO NOT STOP REHEARSING.

image

These guys were running a business, people. Know what I’m saying?

image

That’s right. The addition of that wink insinuates that we were actually rehearsing porn. And if you’d seen the show, you’d realize that the only people getting fucked were our audiences.

image

Okay, we’re getting off track here. The point is, another 9/11 has come & gone. And with it, a glut of THIS kind of stuff.

image

Well, at the risk of sounding unpopular/anti-American, I kind of regret the existence of that whole forgetful angle. 

imageimageimageimage

Look, we’re not talking about the fucking Alamo here.

image

In terms of the absolute timeline, this JUST HAPPENED.

We lost close to 3,000 people on our home turf.

image

Which pitched us into a completely unrelated war, needlessly killing even MORE Americans for no reason in the grand scheme of things.

image

Not to mention, this shit COMPLETELY fucked air travel from then on.

image

So, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, just quit with the whole “remember”/”never forget” thing, please. We don’t need to be reminded every year. Maybe once we get far enough out, this’ll be necessary. 

But 9/11 is forever burned into our collective consciousnesses. I’m not saying all this to demean what happened. But this isn’t fucking “Memento.”

image

NONE of us will be forgetting this massive fuckus anytime soon, thanks. 

D A Y  1 3 4 2

Alright, alright. Let’s clear something up right here & fucking now:

Winger blows.

You’re entitled to your opinion, of course. But if the word “blows” is magically replaced by “rules” or “rocks” in that sentence, we need to hash this out right here & fucking now. (I repeated that for emphasis.)

Look, I try my damnedest NOT to be that rock snob who shits on other people’s tastes. But on this I just can’t budge. Sure, Winger isn’t as bad as, say, Poison, but this band still sucks knob.

But let’s say you actually LIKE Winger. Here are potential categories you probably fit in:

• You’re defending them in some ironic way, like when people say that really like “The Final Countdown.”

• You’re one of those jackanapes who gets excited when a song like “Melt With You” plays on the radio for the billionth time.

Or maybe there’s a legitimate excuse. For instance, maybe you:

• Actually owned Winger’s self-titled debut on cassette
• Saw them when they opened for Enuff Z’Nuff
• Rimjobbed Kip Winger in an abandoned carnival ride
• Had some early sexual encounter that involved all three, but with a guy (or girl?) who only RESEMBLED Kip Winger

If you fit into any of those last four categories, I guess you get a pass. 

So, now that we’ve crossed all those bridges, I have a confession to make:

I actually LIKE this song. 

And before you start jizzing judgement in my hair, let me clarify. My liking this song has NOTHING to do with the following:

• The swatches of color in an otherwise black & white video
• The director’s daughter who’s playing the leggy blonde
• The unnecessary use of TWO keyboard players for this song
• The uncharacteristically antique microphones he’s singing into
• Pretty much every trace of 1989 in this entire video abortion

Here’s my rationale. Play the whole video or just click the times below:

:23
First off, this thing jumps into a key I’m never expecting. I’ve always heard that this was a “ballad,” but it doesn’t really have that feel to me.

1:48
This step down into the bridge is intensely satisfying to me for some reason. Not so thrilled with the bridge itself, but whatever.

2:03
There’s a moment here that’s eerily similar to my favorite moment in one of my least favorite songs: “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt.

2:09
And THAT butts up nicely with the guitar solo. Maybe it’s the key this song is in, but it’s pretty fucking spectacular. (Jesus. I just typed that.)

3:00
Here comes that step down harmony again. But instead of going to another bridge, it slinks down into this really quiet part I kind of dig.

3:11
This is where the song takes a completely different turn. For the last minute & 30 seconds, this goes about as far into prog as Winger will ever go.

3:43
I don’t know what happens here, but this change is fucking chilling. Also, Winger’s guitar player has clearly knelt at the temple of Gilmour. 

4:08
I mentioned prog earlier. And I swear there are moments where Winger’s drummer is squeezing out as much Bill Bruford as he can.

4:12
There’s that weird change again. It almost seems like a mistake. Like something they planned on fading out, but just kept in.

4:19
Damn that drummer, man. He’s pulling off stuff here towards the end that NO band in late 80’s radio was attempting. Just sick fills here.

______________________________________________________________

So, where’s the regret? Well, I think it’s obvious. I just spent half the night writing a post that extolls the fucking virtues of Goddamned Winger. 

DAY 1341

So, Apple just announced their new iWatch yesterday.

image

And although I’m normally a fucking hater, I don’t actually regret their announcement.

image

Seriously.

Yay.

One more thing to help thin out the brainless herd.

image

On one hand, I regret the fact that Google tried to correct me when I typed in “Apple watch.”

image

No. No, I DIDN’T mean that.

Maybe I was looking for something like THIS, dick.

image

Maybe I’ve really been meaning to decorate my kitchen in more of a retired schoolmarm motif.

image

Ever think of THAT, Apple? You’re not the ONLY apple-related product in town, you know.

image

I’m okay.

On the other hand, I regret the fact that so many people are already jizzing balls over this.

And the fact that this thing probably won’t go the way of, say, THIS

image

or THIS.

image

And I say that because I actually own ONE of these. You guess which one.

image

ME - Alright, DK. Prepare to… AAAAAAAAAA! My fucking corneas!

In all seriousness, if you ever get a chance to play Virtual Boy’s “Waterworld” tie-in,

image

I advise choosing a method of suicide that’s quick & painless.

image

C’mon. Do it, pussy. 

DAY 1340

Alright, I’m a copywriter. So, you may think I don’t have a dog in a fight that involves graphic design.

image

See, I work with talented graphic designers all day, every day. For that reason, I can’t help regretting the existence of shitty logo design when I see it out in the world.

And I’m not even talking about the cardinal sin of the dreaded Papyrus font 

image

or even the overtly sexual logos that some clod actually approved.

imageimageimageimage

I’m talking shit like THIS.

image

I’m not even gonna go into the assiness of the messaging.  

Hold on. Lemme zoom in.

image

Little more.

image

Disco.

I hope to Christ a legit designer didn’t actually have a hand in this. My hope is that they just pulled this shit from a stock house. You know, like the same one that churned THIS fuckus out.

image

That sketchy figurine shit pisses me off more than anything. Papyrus not withstanding. It’s outdated & fucking horrible even when it wasn’t.

So, I’m putting this out there to any businesses looking for logos. 

A) Just because your nephew learned Photoshop doesn’t mean that Millennial waste of space is qualified.

image

I’m all for nepotism. But I guarantee whatever this asshat comes up with is gonna suck balls. And fuck deadlines, BTW. His “R&D” will involve subdivisions of porn you never dreamed existed.  

B) You always get what you pay for.

image

Let’s say you actually drop some money on a logo. First off, good on you. But even if you go to some shithole like THIS,

image

keep in mind that THEY DESIGNED THEIR OWN LOGO, TOO. And no amount of kudos from fellow cheapskates can change that.

image

image

image

Okay, guy-from-Subway-I-used-as-a-scapegoat. You’re off the hook.

image

GUY AT SUBWAY - Hey, thanks! I got off easy.

D A Y  1 3 3 9

Jesus. Tapdancing. Christ.

I don’t just regret watching this, I hate myself for watching it. Just angers up the blood. 

Let’s go down the line & figure out why, shall we?

PLEASURE OF FLIPPANCY
Some people actually get off on not knowing things before they were born. They almost seem like they get a thrill out of saying, “I don’t know what that is” or “I wasn’t born yet.” It’s dismissive & it always steams me.

LET’S SAY YOU’RE ALL 16
So, you were born in what, 1998? This song only came out seven years earlier. I recently went through songs that came out seven years before I was born. Out of the top 100, I could name at least 50. C’mon, people.

NIRVANA’S LYRICAL CONTENT
There’s a reason the creators of this series picked this song. The lyrics are inane. Doesn’t make Cobain a shitty songwriter. But I don’t give a shit about the lyrics to, say, “Swap Meet.” I’m in this shit for the bitchin’ riffs.

YOUR SHITTY KNOWLEDGE OF MUSIC
Caveat: an old man is talking.* Are your ONLY cultural touchstones Kanye & Kid Cudi? Well, news flash, dunce caps. Those guys didn’t make a dent until well into the aughts. You’re roughly a decade off, ding-a-lings.

But I guess the biggest regret is that I just watched the “Gangnam Style" version. And I regret that I actually sided with these dumbass young’uns. 

* That’s a Simpsons reference, kids. But since it started NINE years before you were born, I guess it doesn’t matter either.

DAY 1338

So, I came across this clothing site yesterday.

image

Yeah, it’s exactly what you’d think.

Douche,

image

douche

image

& more douche.

image

Now, hold on.

If you own any of this apparel or have ordered from Deal Man recently, let me clarify. All this is coming from a guy who’s not exactly a fashion plate. 

image

So, take that as you will.

In your defense, you COULD say I’m just jealous of this douchey clothing because I’m a waddling fatass who can’t fit into ANY of the sizes this place offers.

image

Sure, that’s one way to frame it. But I’m not.

From what I can tell, Deal Man is all pretty much basic bitch.

image

And even if I COULD fit into one of these lemming garments, I’ve never been able to pull off the New Jersey date rapist look anyway.

image

And if the terms “basic bitch” or “New Jersey” or “date rapist” offend you:

A) You’ve apparently never read my blog
B) You REALLY don’t know me at all
C) You’re probably a basic bitch from NJ

image

Burn.

But my beef isn’t with your run-of-the-mill, Hershey highway apparel. It’s not even with their Captain Mal pleather vests. 

image

My biggest regret about Deal Man is what else they’re trying to push off on the desperately unfashionable. It’s all about THIS:

image

Yep. It’s exactly what it looks like.

image

AKA “Military Jackets.”

image

Or as we called them in band geek circles, “punch cushions.”

image

Sorry, but if you buy this shit, you shouldn’t be allowed to wear it with your typical summer scarf accessory.

image

No, no, no. You should required by law to wear a pillbox hat.

image

YOU - (dashing out the house, wearing your latest Deal Man purchase) Alright, virgins, here I come! 

YOUR MOM - Don’t forget your plume, sweetie. 

image

YOU - (singing) “Seventy-SIX trombones led the big paraaaaaaaaade!”

Okay, I’ve had my say. Wear whatever you want. I don’t care.

image

Hail Satan.

DAY 1337

God, I regret even having dreams these days.

Lately, I’ve been wanting to puncture my brain with a Rambo knife.

image

See, that’s the kind of shit that’s been going on in my mind lately. Everything starts out normal, but then turns completely stupid. 

So, here’s a list of dreams I’ve had over the past week. 

DREAM 1
I was working cleanup crew after-hours at a cafeteria, one I remember from when I was young.

image

Nobody was around. Just me & my cleaning supplies, doing a mop-up job on the service line with a rag. And when I got to the tureens, I noticed one of the little signs next to them read “Gregory Abbott Chili.”

image

With his picture next to it. I didn’t even question the fact that someone would dedicated their chili to a 4th tier R&B singer.

I just started singing, “And you woo, woo, woooooo" as I wiped chili from the stainless steel. When I woke up, I realized I’d been singing a Jeffrey Osborne song.

image

DREAM 2
I’m thrown right in the middle of a citywide riot situation.

image

All of the sudden, I’m keeping people from looting role-playing game store.

image

No idea why I was doing this. I didn’t seem to be the owner. I also had no idea why hundreds of people would actually WANT to loot a gaming store. But it was clearly happening. And I was fucking scared.

image

In typical dreamtime logic, this looting somehow lasted for days. And all along, I was wondering why the cops or store owners weren’t showing up. 

DREAM 3
I was a crew member on the USS Enterprise.

image

I wanna say it was circa “Wrath Of Khan” or “Search For Spock.”

image

One of those stardates when they were still wearing fruity uniforms. Well, I was in charge of beaming people onto the ship.

image

And there was a sense of urgency to it. Like the ship I’m beaming people from is being destroyed. I’d transported a shitload of crewmen already & that’s when somebody said, “Where’s the Captain?”

I panicked & slammed my sweaty, ham-fisted hands against the transporter console.

image

And that’s when I beamed up Admiral Ackbar.

image

DREAM 4
Erika Dodge & I were driving around in some town we’d never been to. This Erika Dodge here.

image

We came across this massive factory that took up an entire city block. It was all by itself in what looked like a strip mall parking lot.

image

When we went in, we found out that it was a gum store.

image

And not just some tiny section of this giant building. It was 100,000 square feet of chewing gum. 

I think I woke up before we bought any.

image

I know, right? 

Makes me never want to fall asleep ever again.

DAY 1336

Ever once & a great while here on Regret-A-Day, a previous day’s regret will flow right into the next.

image

Yesterday, I posted one about Burgertime.

image

Okay, it wasn’t as cool as that painting. 

Well, I was jonesing for old school games SO DAMN MUCH that I wound up downloading THESE to my phone.

image

Uh-huh. THAT Denny’s & THAT Atari.

image

Three games, inspired by classic Atari games, but rebooted as Denny’s menu items.

image

As goofy as this may be, I admire the fact that Denny’s has the balls & fuck-it-all attitude about what their brand can & can’t do. 

image

Even though I bet the stuff in the “can’t” category is slim to none.

Anyhoo, I haven’t jumped into this game

image

or this one yet,

image

but I regret playing THIS today.

image

For nearly a fucking hour.

image

Holy shit, it’s stupid addictive. And I spent scads of time just trying to knock out the last few bacon & eggs.

image

And now I just wanna play it even more just to see how many of these damn designs there are to this game.

imageimageimageimage

I just hope this is a success. Can’t wait for their follow-up.

image

Now if only that Goddamned “Batman & The Flash: Hero Run” shit was this easy.

image

Fuck ME, that game is impossible. I’d complain, but it was free.

Wish I was fucking blind.

image

DAY 1335

This started out as a regret about Burgertime.

image

Then it quickly morphed into a regret about Bump ‘N Jump.

image

And in a trademark about-face, it’s turned back into a regret about Burgertime.

image

So, I follow the Retroist Podcast. And their archive is like a video game-playing, nerdy movie-watching, retro-fondling wet dream.

image

This week they did a podcast devoted to this highly entertaining, highly frustrating game from my youth.

image

I’m posting the video link of the podcast HERE. It’s 19 minutes, but it starts out with a story that deserves its own short film.

Hell, you could write a Fringe show about this thing & geeks would jizz their own balls over how touching it is.

image

It’s crudely drawn, but the video is completely relatable to ANYONE who grew up in the nerdy arcade boom of the early 80’s.

image

Anyhoo, most of the podcast is devoted to game tactics & fun facts about the game itself.

image

Well, after hearing the Burgertime Podcast, I realized I regretted plunking so many quarters in this game, while barely making it beyond this level.

image

Which (I think) is only the 2nd or 3rd. But more than that, I regret that I not only didn’t know there were TWO sequels to this game,

imageimage

but that I never got a chance to play them in the arcade. 

This flies in the face of hard evidence that both games supposedly suck dong. But I don’t really care.

imageimage

Yeah, I realize I’m being a goofy dick about this. You can play ANY game you want these days on any number of mediums.

But I don’t wanna play them on:

• My phone
• An emulator
• Some game system

image

I just want the old-school arcade experience again.

image

I’m just as God made me, sir.

image

DAY 1334

In 1968, Pink Floyd approached a couple of friends of theirs to design the cover for an album that would become “A Saucerful Of Secrets.”

image

This was a landmark moment for a few of reasons:

• It was the Floyd’s very 1st album without Syd Barrett*
• It was only the 2nd time EMI let a band use an outside designer**
• It was the 1st time Hipgnosis officially came into being

image

Those friends of Pink Floyd were Aubrey Powell & Storm Thorgerson. And they basically carved out a nice little career as the design firm known as Hipgnosis. 

For 14 years, they designed nearly 200 albums covers.

image

If you were a popular band in the 70’s there’s a good chance Hipgnosis designed at least one of your albums.

But even if they hadn’t been the the darlings of design, they would’ve always had a job with Floyd.

image

The Floyd covers they churned out were iconic, 

image

esoteric,

image

whimsical

image

& sometimes all three.

image

But from 1968 to 1982, Hipgnosis put out equally incredible covers for a myriad of artists. Some legendary,

image

some not so much.

image

I’m sure there are still some faithful Quatermass fans out there, but I knew people who bought this album just because of the artwork.

image

But Hipgnosis brought with it a certain cache. You knew if you hired them, you’d be getting something incredibly unique,

image

& something that people would pay attention to, 

image

even if the band was relatively unknown. 

They were also big on mostly practical photography. Take Peter Gabriel, for instance.

image

The creepy eyes are all in-camera. They actually made him wear reflective silver contacts to get that effect.

This recent Syd Barrett compilation by Storm Thorgerson?

image

All practical. Same with this Pink Floyd compilation.

image

Everything expertly art directed. Every single piece has meaning.

The point being, an album cover may get you to buy it, but I’m personally turned off if the music inside isn’t as awesome.

image

Well, I was knocking around the Hipgnosis catalog yesterday & here’s what I discovered. A vast majority of the 170+ bands that Hipgnosis worked with would be complete & utter footnotes in rock history if it weren’t for the artwork.

image

Although I guess some still are.

Because for every Peter Gabriel,

image

there were dozens of Heavy Metal Kids

image

or Principal Edwards Magical Theaters.

image

Equally interesting covers in their own right, but the music inside is of questionable quality. 

So, early on in my Pink Floyd education, I owned this book by Miles.***

image

In the back, there was a massive list of bootlegs, as well as various side projects & production credits by all of the Floyd members.

image

And I always wondered what the music on, say, THIS album sounded like.

image

An album produced by Floyd’s David Gilmour. Or THIS album,

image

a solo album by Floyd drummer Nick Mason. The common denominator of these two albums is Hipgnosis.

Well, I learned a while ago that “Fictitious Sports” is a fucking HORRIBLE album. But there are SO MANY Hipgnosis covers that I’ve been curious about. The Cortinas, for example.

image

Or Strawbs’ “Deadlines.”

image

Well, I recently put together a “Hipgnosis Covers" playlist on Spotify. And I regret finding out that my assumptions were absolutely correct.

image

Most of the music is incredibly subpar when you compare it to the album covers that they’re wrapped in.

image

While there were a few interesting finds,

image

it’s clear that Hipgnosis REALLY added value to music that’s mostly run-of-the-mill pap.

image

I guess I should’ve expected this. It was the 70’s, after all. 

* Technically, Barrett is on it, but it was around the time when he was being ushered out of the band & replaced by Gilmour. “Jugband Blues” is Barrett’s only contribution, although a disparate, five-man Floyd can be heard on “Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun.”

** The first time was The Beatles.

*** A fantastic read, BTW. 

DAY 1333

Normally when I’ve got a stupid song in my head, I post a video to it.

image

No dice.

Reason being, I couldn’t find the stupid “Alice” clip, where stupid Linda stupid Lavin sings some stupid song I only stupid know enough of to stupid drive me stupid crazy.

image

Nothing against “Alice” or even Linda Lavin, you understand. But I was more of a “One Day At A Time” fan.

image

God bless feminism. It kept Ann Romano from ever wearing a bra.

image

Oooooof. 

As far as the “Alice” song, I can picture her dressed as a singing telegram singing this stupid song, but I could be wrong. I eventually tracked down the possible episode.

image

A two-parter?!?!

image

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. 

Anyhoo, YouTube’s no help at figuring out this mystery. Clips from “Alice” are about as locked down as a Prince video. The closest I came was Vic Tayback telling a horrible joke

image

Well, I regret having this shit in my head. Probably more than ANY song I’ve ever regretted on this forum. And it’s allllllllllllllll because of HER.

image

On an even more disturbing note, I’m taking a poll:

Have you ever had a dream about somebody you didn’t really like in real life that involved you being in love with them in the dream?

image

Wait. I’m going somewhere with this. 

Then, when you wake up, you bump into that person & your perception of them has COMPLETELY changed? Almost like you suddenly love them?

image

Okay, maybe it’s just me. It happened once in high school with somebody I was in band with.

image

(Not the actual band. Also, she didn’t play Sousaphone.) 

Basically, I had a hard time separating the feelings I had for her in the dream versus the feelings I DIDN’T have for her in real life.

image

QUIT IT!

Well, I had a dream I completely regret last night. It was about the dorky sister from “The Middle.”

image

Now, I don’t know who watches this show, but I can say with utter confidence that I’m one of the ones who DOESN’T.

image

But I’ve been seeing commercials for it lately & I guess it’s snuck into my subconscious. 

Worst part is that she looks like THIS in real life.

image

Annnnnnnnnnnd she’s about a billion years too young for me. But that’s not the point. She’s THIS in my dream.

image

But man, do we have a good thing going in that dreamscape.

I don’t know. Could be worse, I guess. At least it’s not the twisted, Webster-esque homunculus on the show.

image

Ugh.

imageimage