Even if nobody asked….
1. Growing up, an alleged friend of mine dubbed how I danced as “The Dean”. This was not meant as a compliment. At my wedding, he orchestrated a group performance of “The Dean” as a sarcastic tribute to me. In related news, I’m contemplating an injunction against the “Trump Dance” for copyright infringement.
2. I’d love to see a running-time countdown clock in the bottom corner of a movie screen. We have it available to us in streaming, why not when we go to the theater?
3. People that say “Look …” or “Listen….” when speaking to someone have my undying, passionate scorn and vitriol.
4. The most common phrase heard from my wife Trish at home on any given day: “Hey Siri, where are you?”
5. My oncologist text me for a Google review the other day. Say what? Can I reply with the truth, that I wish I never met the guy?
6. Cheryl Hines leaves RFK for Ted Danson, right? (Come on, that’s "pretty, pretty, pretty good", isn’t it?)
7. Make eye contact with people when you speak, it’s a powerful connector. BUT failing to blink is downright creepy. (I think this is in Proverbs somewhere.)
8. Clicking on the Harrington Prime account order tab and seeing the sheer volume of purchases explains Amazons amazing stock performance in my portfolio. Should I turn myself in for “insider trading”?
9. How about music acts start putting the song lyrics up on a screen at their concerts? That would be awesome! It’s already done at church and with Christian performers. This has to happen.
10. A rant:
I’m convinced there couldn’t be a nine-season series of Suits without people handing each other folders or letters (which they then speed read), co-workers randomly arriving unannounced at people’s homes or walking unannounced into a person's place of business.
And must the script require the use of the characters name in EVERY sentence of dialogue? Don’t get me started on how it never rains, snows, or appears cold outside (nobody’s hair has ever blown in the wind, BTW) or how a series that takes place in NYC has no New York accents. (Maybe because it was filmed in Toronto, eh?).
Yet here I am in season seven, facing another 40+ episodes because someone who shall remain nameless can’t seem to go a day without Harvey Specter. And that somebody isn’t your beloved scribe. OK, I feel better now.
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