I am under Jack Attack! NOBODY SAVE ME.

I was perfectly happy with the return of “24” to television  — I’d give the Season 9 premiere, “24: Live Another Day,” a 9 out of 10.  It delivered.  We’re a long way from the problematic Season 6, here  — everything that once made the show so great is back in evidence.  There’s fast pacing, intertwining personal, political and techno-thriller plotlines, and cool, compelling characters despite a large cast.

We’ve got immediate tension and a nice mystery served right up front, and having our heroes cast as antagonists is a great game changer that keeps things fresh.

Kiefer Sutherland and William Devane are as perfect as always, even if Devane’s face will always remind me of his role in “Marathon Man” (1976).  His acting is perfect, and the interplay among him, Audrey and Mark was unexpectedly touching.

Dear Lord.  Look at the expression on Bauer’s face when Chick-Jack (Kate Morgan) pulls her gun on him.  He’s the closest thing to the goddam Batman outside of the DC Comics universe.  I’m pretty sure that he alone could take on all of the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.  But I don’t want to start a nerd turf war, because I remember that time I criticized Doctor Who, and those Whovians threatened to come to my house.  (Turns out his fanbase is a lot tougher than he is.)

Speaking of Kate Morgan, the character here actually has nothing to do with Kate Warner from Season 2 — the confusion connected with the similar names is compounded by the fact that the actresses have a close resemblance.

And, of course, there was a hilarious bit of fan service with a “dammit” at a perfectly opportune time.

LIVE ANOTHER DAY.

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Spy vs. Spy (DAMMIT!)

Remember that friend in the intelligence community who I turned on to “24?”  He’s hooked.  He did at least half of Season 1 yesterday.

Spy Guy via text: “this wasn’t the right show to watch when I have things to do!!”

But it got funner when he “dammitted” me: “DAMMIT DUDE I NEED TO TURN THIS OFF.”  (Because spies have an abhorrence for commas.)

Wouldn’t it be funny if an intelligence professional were late for work because he stayed up watching “24?”  I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of irony.

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Late night memos make me a garrulous Batman.

UPLOAD MY AWKWARDNESS.

A … curious new trend on the Internet has been brought to my attention by Len Ornstein, and has been the source of some bemusement for a few Mary Washington College alumnae.  Evidently, people are scanning and uploading yearbooks to the net?  As I understand it, this is being done not by graduates or those depicted, but … just by random people who enjoy uploading yearbooks?

This strikes me as a totally random and bizarrely specific technology-related hobby.  Then I remember arguing in the imdb.com chatrooms with 15-year-olds in Britain about the cultural implications of Wesley Snipes’ “Blade.”  (The implications are more divisive than you might expect.  That Brit Kid called me a “bellend.”  Then everyone laughed at me on Facebook when I posted to ask what the term meant.)

At any rate, allow this to fuel your paranoia, as it has mine.  Photos of you that were taken 20 years ago are now available via keyword search.  Len, a schoolteacher in Arizona, had his mug brought to his attention by his students.

And if you suffer from the same apparent mutation that I do, pay attention to your mysteriously expanding head.

Exhibit A:  Look at the first picture below, which is a page from the 1994 (?) Mary Washington College yearbook.  Look at me in the top left corner. (Yes, I majored in psychology, and, no, the irony is not lost on me.)  My head is small — and I mean TINY.  I don’t think that this was a trick photography gag employed by the yearbook club, because Photoshop kind of wasn’t a thing yet.  (My passing resemblance to Danger Mouse here is also a separate matter entirely.)

Exhibit B:  Look at the second picture below, which was taken quite recently.  My forehead is HUGE.  I don’t have a receding hairline.  I DON’T.  But yet I cannot explain why my forehead appears to be growing at a geometric rate.  Seriously, look at it.  I should rent out space on that thing.  It would go a long way toward supporting my poetry.  This might be why Pete Buccellato (also the Class of 1994) has opined repeatedly that I look like “Guy Smiley” from Sesame Street.

I know that one of Green Lantern’s nemeses (Herman something …?) has a giant mutated cranium, but that developed with super-intelligence and telepathic abilities, neither of which I’ve seen evidence of in my life just yet.  I keep telling myself that Morrisey also has a large forehead, and I’m pretty sure he gets all the girls, even if he blew it that time with Tori Amos.

Whatever.  You can take your mind off your troubles by noting the affable face of a one Mr. Mike Merritt at the bottom right, with whom I am thankfully still friends.  That smile informs us once again that he was a sublimely well adjusted kid.  It was great knowing Mike back at school.  I still remember encountering him on Campus Walk around The Fountain after partying in New Hall.  If I was a bit deep in my cups, I would accost him with my endlessly repeated pun for his name: “Merritt Baaaaaaaaaadge!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”   The law of diminishing returns apparently worked backward in my 20-year-old mind, because the joke just got funnier every time I hollered it.

In fact, if you are an alum in Virginia and you have occasion to see Mike, would you please yell it at him for me?  That’d be just great.

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I persuaded a spy to watch “24.”

Seriously.  Dude has a full-time job in the intelligence community, and he’d never seen a single episode of the program.

So the joke always fell flat when I would call him on the phone and scream, “THERE’S NO TIME, JACK!!!!!!”

Last night he did a Season 1 marathon.  And all because a chain-smoking liberal poet told him to.

“IRONY, CHLOE!!!”

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Another edition of “What I Am Reading”

Head on over to see what 4-LAN the Robot has to say about “Thimblerig’s Ark,” by Nate Fleming.

A groundhog protagonist?  Packs of wild dogs?  The Great Flood?  This book actually does sound like a hell of a lot of fun!

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/what-i-am-reading-14

 

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I am an apathetic blackbird.

This was passed along to me tonight by a friend and reader of “Dogs Don’t Bark.”

You’ve got me pegged, Carrie — this is me in more ways than one!  (Four out of five ex-girlfriends agree.)

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“Out of the Ad Space,” by Jason Sturner

Last month was National Poetry Month, and I was linking to various poems — including those penned by friends of mine around the web.

I meant to share one by Jason Sturner, who is a prolific writer and very nice guy.  Here is a link to “Out of the Ad Space,” a speculative poem that was voted best poem in the September 2012 issue of “Aoife’s Kiss.”

I was distracted by a poem request from a West Coastie friend, and I took Jason’s out of the queue to accommodate Robert Frost.

Apologies, Jason!  Nice work!   🙂

http://jasonsturner.blogspot.com/2013/01/out-of-ad-space.html

DENNIS VILLELMI.

America’s most badass emerging poet.

Your grandkids will be reading his stuff in gradeschool along with Poe.  And possibly waking up after 1 am with nightmares.

The upside?  They’ll understand classical references better than you do.

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Eric Robert Nolan is UNDER THE BED!

Seriously.  Like, right now.  There are a ton of Payday wrappers down here.  I thought I was the only one who was facing that challenge in life.  (The first step is admitting you have a problem.)  Also, that Mickey Mouse ankle sock you lost.  (Tasteful.)

Don’t look so surprised.  You knew I was a weirdo when you friended me on Facebook.  And now I’ve used a public records search to find your house.

Please — nobody say “Yeah, but at least you’re out of the closet.”  Because I’ve been getting a lot of those jokes lately, and I’m not sure how to respond to them.  (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

Seriously, though — what I mean is that I am a contributing writer for the May 2014 issue of Under The Bed Magazine, available at the link below for just $3.99.  (And if you love the mag as much as I do, you might consider getting a subscription in which each issue is only $1.99.)  My horror story is entitled “The Song of the Wheat,” and visits a dark, sprawling Kansas farm where children need never be lonely.  For those of you who’ve enjoyed my science fiction-horror, this is my foray into supernatural horror. Think of it as an empiricist’s walk on the wild side.

I can’t describe how fun and cool it is to be able to contribute to Under The Bed.  Check out the magazine’s caveat: “Under the Bed contains gruesome violence, adult situations, freaky sex, unconsequenced drug use, and stuff that will almost certainly give you nightmares.  Under the Bed is intended for mature audiences.  Keep out of reach of children.  Please indulge responsibly.”

I am so pleased at the opportunity to work with Managing Editor Wednesday Lee Friday, and I am honored to see my story featured alongside Under The Bed’s talented other horror writers.

Enjoy!! 🙂

http://www.fictionmagazines.com/shop/u-t-b/under-the-bed-vol-02-no-08/

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Nurse Your Favorite Heresies in Whispers