7-17 to 7/19

7/17

Reading "Arcove's Bright Side," I am impressed by how well Abbie writes about how hard relationships are.  Her characters continually say the wrong thing, or what they say is misunderstood or does not get the reaction they were expecting, and the characters despair over it.  I'll simply say that, if real-life interpersonal relationships were this complicated, then I'd be pretty darn alone.

Wait, I said that bit aloud, but nobody complained.

I did what I could on the exercise bike tonight.  It's not like going for a run.  It's way less difficult, and focused solely on the legs.  But exercise is exercise, right, Your Honor?

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/18

Jeff was supposed to have gone home to Germany by now, but his wife caught COVID (as did his son, daughter-in-law, and multiple members of his family that went to the reunion), so he bumped his flight back a week.  Today, we got together and watched "Star Trek: Lower Decks" together, until I fell asleep, and he kicked me out so he could make dinner.  We also had lunch at a sandwich place that was so expensive, I fear I will never buy a sandwich again.

Afterward, I hit the library.  I got 1137 words today.  I was writing the scene (in "Balms & Sears") I keep talking about, and probably would've gone further had it not been 8:52pm.  No worries.  I'm happy to have made some real progress today.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7-19

I write these posts as if there are avid fans of mine, hanging on every word, unable to wait another year for a Ben Parks or Will Choner story, much less the stupid "Calling" finale, which I'm probably never going to get to (do you believe I had this idea of a young George Clooney as a villain for that one?).  But even though that's surely not true, I will continue as though it is true, until it becomes true. 

Regardless, I finally got to the climactic scene in "Balms & Sears," and now that it's here, I desperately don't want to eff it up.*  I know what I want to happen, and I know how it's supposed to feel, but I'm afraid I'm just not a good enough writer to pull it off as well as it exists in my head (please return in two days for more of this thought).  But I'll press through to the end, let the manuscript sit for a year (or three), and maybe work on that in the revision, and really act it in the audiobook (coming out circa 2025, mark your calendar), and hope that it gets close.  For now, finishing is the most important part.

I got 874 words today.  Not bad at all.  Sadly, I'm nearly done with the scene (though I'd like to go in and make it more powerful, add in a couple more details and emotions), and then, well, I guess I end the book (I had wanted the encounter with the crazy guy from here at the library to be after this scene, but since I already wrote it, I suppose I'll come up with something else).  It's past the 60,000 word mark (I crossed that threshold today), so it's really getting up there.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*I've recounted many a time of when, in my writer's group, we reached the end of my screenplay "Fallen Angel," where the hero and heroine realize that, even though they are starting to fall in love, they have to part, for the good of each other.  And my buddy Brandon approaching me afterward and saying, "That's the part where the audience is supposed to burst into tears because it's so tragic they can't be together . . . but I just wasn't feeling it," and how upset that made me, because I knew he was right when we read that bit, but for the life of me, I didn't know how to MAKE the audience feel it.  "A man's got to know his limitations," Dirty Harry said, but sometimes it really sucks to discover them.

My Voice on "The Road Ends At The Sea"

It's always a treat when I get invited to participate in a Campfire Radio Theater, John Ballentine's fully-produced audio drama series.  

In this one, "The Road Ends At The Sea," based on a story by Tim Wynne Jones, I play Paul, the man who married our hero's lost love, who lives at Purgatory Point, a lighthouse at the end of the sea . . . and something else.  

I got to play the husband, the character the girl left our hero for, for the first time.  Pretty cool.  Also cool was how awesome Kevin Hartnell's music was.  Makes me want to write a spooky story or two.

Hey, I did a Canadian accent in this one.  Not that you can tell.  Check it out AT THIS LINK.

7/15 & 7/16

As you know, Bob, I get lazier every single day.  And fatter.

So it came as quite a surprise that I saw a little exercise bike at the local scratch n' dent, and considered buying it.  I asked the proprietor if it was heavy (I thought I'd have to drive over and get my mom's car to fit it into), and if he thought it would sell before the end of the day.  "Are you kidding?  I've had that for weeks," he said.  Then he said he'd knock ten dollars off, since I always buy action figures from him, and when I went to my car to clear off the seat, he said he'd knock off fifteen.  I was already going to buy it, but hey, a deal's a deal.

Not got anything to say today. 

It was pretty hot, and I sat in my car for a minute, watching a YouTube video, and was surprised when the sweat started to roll down my forehead and neck.  I was reminded of when Indians would do their sweat lodge rituals (for purification?  For a show of body-mastery?), and how my dad used to like to go in the sauna at this very Overlook-like hotel in the mountains when I was a kid.  It made me wonder if I was clearing out my pores by sitting there, so I forced myself to sit another three or four minutes, so the sweat would REALLY flow.

Around that time, my nephew's best friend rode by on his bike and saw me doing it, and asked me later just what the bloody hell I thought I was doing.  Good question.

Writing or Exercise: Writing (812 words, if the count was accurate)

7/16

Only have a few minutes at the library today.  Somehow I slept in an extra half hour this morning, and it threw off the whole day.*

I emailed Jeff yesterday and told him I wasn't sure I deserved to get to go to Europe and do all that fun stuff.  He said it wasn't about deserving, that it's his birthday and he wants to celebrate it how he wants to celebrate it.  So weird.

I finally wrote the reunion scene on "Balms & Sears," which I've been thinking about for nearly a decade--the big point of the story, the climax.  But I only got about a third of it done.  It's all downhill from there, after all.

After the library closed, I went over to the mall to check out the toy store that opened three weeks ago (did I write about that, about being one of the first customers, talking with fellow collectors in the line, and then feeling obligated to buy something?  That's why I haven't gone back).  The owner, despite only knowing me vaguely from toy shows over the years, was super friendly and chatty and took me into the back room to show a collection of vintage Transformers (still in the boxes!) that a guy brought in.  He was almost giddy with pride and excitement, and shared how much business they've been doing.

And I have to admit, I was a little jealous.  Back in 2007, I told my cousin we should open a store together, where people could bring in their old toys, and we'd turn around and sell them for a ginormous profit.  Of course, my cousin kept having children, and the economy tanked a year later, so it would never have worked, but it seemed like a fun and exciting job to have.  All these years later, to see somebody who actually made a go of it, doing exactly that, is pretty inspiring.

I also did a short version of my run as the sun was going down, then hopped on the exercise bike and tested it out.  I think I'll take it to the cabin with me next week, see if I couldn't ride it while reading Abbie's book.

Writing or Exercise: Both

*Okay, it was more than a half hour.  But you don't expect me to be HONEST here, do you?

7/13 & 7/14

'Tis Harrison Ford's birthday.  I should go onto Instagram and see if Mark Hamill posted about it (he's good with that).*  Of course, I have no internet right now.  I drove up to the cabin, eager to get away from the oppressive heat (my poor cousin bought me lunch today, and when we got back in his car, he prayed to Shiva, "Let me die."  But he did not), and was surprised when it started raining on the drive up, with the temperature still at 93 degrees.  I remember it doing that to Big Anklevich and me coming back from Comic-Con years ago, driving through Death Valley, when my mom's car thermometer said 106 degrees.  I don't suppose we'll ever do a Comic-Con again.  Huh.

Just for fun, my niece sent me this picture:

Cool.

I had a myriad of options when I got here to the cabin and unloaded the car, but I knew that one of my priorities was to continue reading "Arcove's Bright Side," which Abigail Hilton requested/demanded I get read by July 25th.  We'll see how I do.

To my surprise, Marshal Latham wrote a story for my birthday, called "Butcher's Gulch," over on his podcast.  I had written a story called "Walk of Death" that I put out for his back in February, but didn't expect reciprocity.  I also had no idea he'd done it because he wrote it just this summer, sat down and recorded it, and rushed it out so I could hear it today.

The movie I decided to put in was CAROUSEL, a 1954 Rodgers & Hammerstein production that, just like OKLAHOMA last month, stars Gordon MacRae and Shirley Jones.  Unlike OKLAHOMA, where I knew multiple songs, this is entirely unfamiliar to me.  But it's old fashioned and sweet, so I was enjoying it . . . until the dance number arrived.  Just like last month, it ground the movie to a screeching halt, and misery descended upon me.  But unlike last month, I pretty much knew what I was in for (since I'd sat through the endless, loathsome, and wholly superfluous dance number in that film), so the harmless, innocent fun of CAROUSEL suddenly turned into FACES OF DEATH.

Even though it featured the excellent song "You'll Never Walk Alone," I have to admit that I didn't enjoy this one very much, despite it having the same two leads as OKLAHOMA!.  It's the third Rodgers & Hammerstein musical I've watched this summer, and the only one I didn't watch again with the commentary (SOUTH PACIFIC I ended up watching thrice).

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/14

While Jeff was here, I sat down with him and his wife, and we talked about what I'd like to do in Europe, and where I'd like to go.  I didn't want to be overly ambitious (I never thought I'd get to travel anywhere, not with the stupid choices I've made in life), but he seemed to think the sky was the limit.  At one point, he said, "Obviously, we'll take you to the torture museum in ____,"  naming a German town.  I told him, "I don't really have to see any torture museums."  To which he said, "Well, okay.  But we'll go to that one, for sure.  And maybe the Tower of London.  And that'll be it."

He also mentioned having to go out of his way last year to take a picture of the Phantom Manor at Paris Disneyland, since I had asked him to, so I could see what it looked like.  "I suppose you'd like to see it for yourself, right?"  Well, I didn't know what to say.  I mean, yeah, of course I'd like to see the Phantom Manor for myself, but that doesn't mean I ever expected to (or need to).  It would be like somebody saying, "Well, I suppose you'd like to go into a Hogwarts broom closet with Hermione Granger for five minutes, right?"  Most definitely I'd say yes, but never expect to actually get the chance.

You know what I mean.

Right before the sun went down last night, I saw my old enemy, the badger, crossing the white gravel driveway, headed toward his hidey-hole.  I told my brother about it, and he wants it dead, so will bring a rifle when he comes up on Saturday.  My brother wants all badgers dead, and not just the men . . .

I brought several books, but didn't open a single one of them.  Instead, I narrated a David H. Keller short story, and spent a couple of hours reading Abbie Hilton's new book (trying out the new characters' voices to get a feel for them).  Still, it was a fine visit, and as usual, when the sun started getting low in the sky, I packed up my things with a disappointed sigh.

At the end of the day, I had the choice between writing a little or going on a run, and I chose the run.  Because I am stupid, I suppose.

Writing or Exercise:  Exercise  

*He did, in fact, and posted a photo of the two of them together recently.

Podcast That Dares 33: The Ash Tree

Whoops. I should've put this one out a couple of months ago. Sorry. 

Rish presents M.R. James's 1904 story, "The Ash Tree," sadly, with accents.

To download the file, Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Arse Tree" Moretto.

7/11 & 7/12

7/11

Happy 7-Eleven day, kids!  The Slurpiees are on me.

I sat down and wrote for about thirty minutes today, writing the scene in "Balms & Sears" before the scene that I've been wanting to write for almost a decade now.  I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, but I have a feeling that once I start writing The Scene (basically, the climax of the story/movie), I won't want to stop.  And that's pretty great, huh?

I checked, and the document is at 56,000 words, so not too shabby, eh?

A couple of weeks ago, I told my Aunt Blanca that I would go with her to the airport to see off her granddaughters, because they had a late-ish flight, and Blanca can't drive at night.

The flight was at 9:50pm, and we left plenty early (around 6:30), but we needn't have bothered, because the flight was delayed.  And delayed.  And delayed.

We went through security and that sort of thing--apparently, if you're seeing kids off, you're allowed to go to the gate with them, as long as you have a pass to do so.  Blanca bought all of us hyper-expensive food at Cafe Rio, and then we were informed that the flight was bumped to 10:45.  Which made her older granddaughter complain, but ah well, it gave us an extra hour to get settled, and gave me an opportunity to sit down and do my writing for the night.  But then the flight was delayed to eleven.  And then eleven-fifteen.  And then eleven-thirty.  With each passing delay, the older granddaughter got more and more upset, anxious, etc., to the point where she called her dad (who was going to pick them up at the airport) to ask if we could just turn around and go home.  Since I had given up my entire night for this, I told them, "No, we drove an hour up here and it's an hour back.  We're not leaving unless the flight is canceled."  

My aunt tried to entertain the oldest girl while I focused on the younger one, letting her use my phone for YouTube and listening to her talk about "Stranger Things," and while we sat, the flight was not only bumped to 11:50, but moved to a different gate (they had had mechanical problems in Los Angeles, and everyone had to disembark, load into a new plane, and wait for it to get the luggage aboard before they could head our way, and as you know, Bob, everything takes longer than you think that it will).  But sure enough, the plane landed, unloaded, they cleaned it quickly, and at 11:53, the girls got on, and Blanca and I walked back to where I had parked her car.

Except that I didn't know where we were anymore.  The airport was now empty and quiet, and my aunt's legs were really aching, and we walked what had to be more than a mile, maybe two, back to the parking garage . . . which turned out to be the wrong one (I guess there's Parking Garage East and Parking Garage West, and I'd led us to the opposite one).  She was really tired when we finally found her car, and I drove us out of there . . . but because we'd been in short-term parking, then stayed four hours, they charged a fortune to leave the garage.  Sad.

But hey, I got to spend time with my aunt, and help her out, and I don't mind staying up late, so it really wasn't that huge of a sacrifice on my part.  Plus, I got a free pork burrito.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/12

Something was wrong with me today.  I was tired and unambitious.  I'm not proud of myself about it, but I'm reminded of a day last week when my mom said she didn't get out of bed until eleven or twelve, so hey, it happens.

Big did a video the other day of himself going on a toy run at various stories, and he was inspired by me telling him about a podcast I unearthed from about 2014 where I recorded myself going to Walmart at about 2:00am, hoping to find something cool.  I wished I had done it on video, because it would be neat to see what was on the shelves back then, especially if there was stuff the 2013 me found ordinary (and not worth buying) that's extraordinarily valuable today.  I think I'd like to make my own video too, but no promises.

I should've written more tonight.  But I didn't.  I got about a page done, and Alec and Ana are now entering the hospital.  If I write tomorrow, it should be exciting.

Writing or Exercise: Both (I forgot about push-ups)

My Voice on "Haus" on HorrorAddicts

Once again, Emerian Rich over at HorrorAddicts shows her excellent taste in voice artists by having me do the adult male voices in "Haus," by Garth Von Buchholz.  A group of four robbers break into a house with a futuristic security system . . . but how many will make it out again?

I got the idea of pronouncing "Haus" as "howz," so you could hear that it was a foreign word.  That was about my entire contribution.    Check it out HERE!

7/8 to 7/10

7/8

I made it to the library again, as I usually do on a Friday night.  But tonight, I'm going to see THOR 4 at nine-thirty, so I got here as early as I could, wrote almost as soon as I sat down . . . and then wasted at least an hour on Wikipedia.  Sorry.

I got the story to 6744 words.  So hey, I'm going okay.

Tonight I saw THOR: LOVE & THUNDER with Jeff and his family.  I thought Gorr the God Butcher was particularly terrifying, and really liked Portman's turn as Jane Foster Thor throughout (and I haven't liked a performance of hers since V FOR VENDETTA).  I also liked that they gave Valkyrie so much to do.

At the same time, dude, there are so many kids in this movie.  Kids are the worst.

Jeff's oldest son apparently hated the movie*, which surprised me.  He said, "Well, there's officially only one good Thor movie."  Which is fine--you can like what you like--I can't really address that, being one of only six people in America who liked THOR: THE DARK WORLD.

I personally think there's only one officially bad Thor movie, and that's the first one.  But hey, if I went back and watched it again, I might not think it was bad at all (it at least has Loki in it).  

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/9

I went to a yard sale this morning with my cousin, way up north (more than an hour away from my place, and more than ninety minutes away from Ryan's house), because a radio DJ and toy collector died recently, and there was an estate sale being done (I got the impression that his widow was there, but a couple younger dudes were being paid to run it).  It started yesterday, and apparently all the good stuff was sold then, but I found a crazy amount of junk that I wanted, considering it was being sold for a dollar a figure.

It was only the tip of the iceberg as far as the collection goes, and one of the dudes there said there were hundreds of boxes of toys in the house they would put up for sale in a couple of weeks.  I look forward to it.

What I don't look forward to, though, is the day my family has to sell off all my junk.  Ryan said, "Your mom will be the same way, selling off your stuff for a dollar apiece, with no idea what any of it is worth."  And it's a disquieting thought, but not at all inaccurate.**

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/10

Jeff is in town for a family reunion in Montana which he's going to tomorrow morning, which means this week will be a regular one for me, going to the cabin on Wednesday, and boy, I look forward to it.  I guess that makes me weird.  But hey, come up to the cabin with me sometime, and you can judge for yourself.

I went to Jeff's house and played Ticket To Ride with him, his wife, and his three kids.  It was the Italy version, which was harder, because you had to use ferries, and because I didn't know the geography.  It was fun to hear how people said the city names.

His younger son is a math genius (Jeff is more of a language genius, though he probably qualifies in other areas), and could tell us our scores without going around the board, just from doing the math in his head.  I tied for second place, and would have won if I'd paid attention to how many trains the other guys had (in two turns, I'd have had two more Destinations, but I didn't get two more turns).

Afterward, instead of watching a shockingly-bad movie, we watched one more episode of "Supernatural."  But Jeff was falling asleep during it, so he said what he always says, "I'm going to kick you out now."  But hey, I drove home, and still had time to go on a run, list some figures, read a blog, and type this, before going to sleep myself.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*Maybe both of them did, because his younger son said, "I think I'm done with the MCU."

**I kept thinking about it, and ultimately figured I'd do an episode talking about it.

Blog 7/2 - 7/7

Ugh.  I spent quite a while blogging at the library, and once again, when I opened my blog file . . . it was empty.  I cannot get my head around that.  I mean, gmail fudgin' saves every ten seconds or so (maybe more often than that), so it should've had at least SOME of what I wrote today, even if it didn't catch the last bit before I logged off their computer.

I'm pissed enough to just publish this week's blog in the half-assest way imaginable.  But then I'll come in and paste in something for the days where I later emailed myself a note.

7/2
Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/3

I didn't mention this, but at one point, Marshal commented that my Cousin Ryan and I were always calling each other "Chima."  He referred to it as some Spanish word, but I didn't know what he was talking about.  Except that we do do it all the time.  "Chima" was the name of a Lego subline from a decade or more back, and I thought the word was delightfully ugly (and it my mind, it's crazily similar to "chalupa," even though it isn't really).  So I started calling him "Chima," and he started calling it back to me.  And when we were watching "Orphan Black," there was a character called Cossima, and my cousin started calling me that for a while.

So, things can always be worse.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/4

Lots of fireworks tonight, which I was going to use as an excuse to not record anything, maybe go for a run instead.  But around midnight, the explosions died down, and I sat down and recorded Chapter 6 of "But Now I'm Found."  To my horror, it took one hour and twenty-one minutes . . . the longest I've ever spent on a chapter.

Even so, it was progress, and any amount of progress is good.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/5

Because Jeff is in town this week and next week has a family reunion, I've decided to forgo the cabin this week, and spend Wednesday and Thursday with him.  I imagine that one day one (or both) of us will be dead, so it's best to get in the visit while we can.

I spent a good chunk of my visit to the library tonight catching up on my blog over the last few days.*  I also, out of curiosity, did a word count on my story "The Washer Whispers," which was just over 5400 words.  It's only a third of the way through, I said at the time, but I'm cool with that, and looking forward to find out where it's going.  Well, that's still true, but any setback has the capacity to discourage me, and that's a pretty big character flaw of mine.

Not the biggest, I'm sure, but pretty big.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/6

Jeff had saved an obscure Eighties Slasher movie called DEADLY GAMES (1982) for us to watch.  But wow, it was really bad.  Worse than pretty much any movie the two of us have watched together in the five years he's been moved away (it starred Steve Railsback, who I've never liked, even in good films).  Because I'm upset to have lost all of last week's blog posts, I don't imagine I'll say much about this, but I think Jeff felt bad because the pick was his, and he had such high hopes for it.**

Afterward, he offered to buy us a bag of chips, and let me pick the movie we'd watch.  I said, "Well, I've always wanted to see TRAIN TO BUSAN, but was scared off by the subtitles."  

So we checked to see if it was available, and sure enough, there were three versions: English Dub, Korean Subtitle, and Spanish Dub.  We started with the English dubbed version, just because you didn't know which version you were watching until people started talking, and Jeff turned it off after about six seconds, claiming the dubbed dialogue was the worst he'd ever heard (I, however, thought it was just fine.  Heck, I might watch that version by myself sometime, just to see how it feels).  So we watched it all from the subtitled version, and aside from me not knowing any of the characters' names, it was a wholly pleasant experience.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/7

Jeff had gone to the library (if I know him, he had been there, outside the door, when it opened in the morning) and got an Italian Slasher movie for us to watch, probably to make up for yesterday's turd.  It was a forgotten Mario Bava flick called FIVE DOLLS FOR AN AUGUST MOON (1970), and was absolutely terrible.  

In many ways, it was similar to DEADLY GAMES in that the filmmakers seemed to be shooting random scenes that connected to nothing, and then cutting them together in post.  But it was Italian-made, and that gave it a bit of charm, and it had Edwige Fenech in it, who we watched last year in Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (and also starred in the slightly-less-well-titled Strip Nude for Your Killer (1975).

We were able to watch the season finale of "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds," and wouldn't you know, they managed one more excellent episode.  By my count, that's ten for ten.  I may spend the rest of my life wondering how they could pull that off (which, of course, leaves me open to disappointment the second they put out a mediocre one).  Still, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth.  Just like "Mandalorian" rekindled some fans' faith in the Star Wars franchise again, I'm so thrilled with the ten episodes of 2022 Star Trek we got, that I'll try my best not to criticize "Discovery" for the next little while.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*Sure seems stupid now, in retrospect.

**In his defense, he had watched the trailer last year and sent me a link, asking if I wanted to check it out, and yeah, the trailer was one of those Good Parts Only edits that made me vote Aye.

Rish Outcast 225: Newfound Fame 4

Rish finishes his novella "Newfound Fame," and talks about the movie IT FOLLOWS.  Again.

To download the file, Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Newfound Blame" Moretto.

6/30 & 7/1

 6/30

Another month is over.  

I watched a couple of DVDs from the library at the cabin this trip.  The first was THE MAN FROM UNCLE, which was a vastly underperforming Guy Richie movie from a few years back that I thought was pretty excellent when I saw it in the theater (yeah, it actually played in the theater).  To my surprise, it was even better the second time, and I will unequivocally list it as my favorite Guy Richie flick.

My cousin Ryan had told me that the CRUELLA movie was enjoyable, so I picked it up.  There were parts that were good, sure, and I liked that it took place in, what was it, 1974?  Also, I've never considered 101 DALMATIONS a masterpiece of cinema, so that helps.  And it didn't make me wish that I was dead, and that the Disney empire would burn to the ground like MALEFICENT did, so there's that.

I also watched CHAPPAQUIDICK, about the car accident in 1969 that seemingly undid Ted Kennedy's political career (except that he served in the Senate for, like, forty years after that).  It was pretty unpleasant, but was meant to be.

They say that those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it.  Well, I just heard that Paramount has made a prequel to ROSEMARY'S BABY . . . and for a moment, I was excited about it.  Let's see if I still have that Picard facepalm image . . .

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/1

Today, it was ninety-eight degrees outside.  There's no point to me saying this--I'm not complaining, just commenting.

I came back to the library today.  If I can write 300 words, I will consider it a success.

I'm sure I got double that.  I was writing the crucial scene of finally understanding what the voice is whispering, and I ended up writing a whole bit I had not intended, and was still going strong when they announced that it was time for all good monkeys' tails to fall off, had I lost mine yet?

I went home and had a good long chat with Big Anklevich, who gets off work around the same time I leave the library*.  Then my nephew (14) asked me if we could watch the Adam Sandler movie THE HUSTLE tonight (I'd been telling him we should watch it for weeks now, but there's always one of his parents around, and I didn't want to get in trouble, since the movie's rated R). 

But I needn't have bothered.  His mom was in the room, doing something on her laptop, and told us we could watch it, and told the eleven year old he could too, so we did.  

HUSTLE tells the story of a basketball recruiter (played by Adam Sandler) who, at whatever age Adam Sandler's supposed to be, pins all his hopes and family's future on a Spanish amateur player that he brings to Philadelphia for a shot at the NBA.  I enjoyed it quite a bit, despite not being a sports guy.  

My nephew, however, impressed the hell out of me by constantly telling me who all the players were (whether they were playing themselves or not), even if they're only shown for a second or two.  I don't know how he did it, except to say that if there was a movie like this that took place at a Star Trek or Star Wars convention, I guess I could name every "celebrity" cameo that there was.  Still, they're not going to make a movie that takes place at one of these cons, though I'd enjoy writing one about a murder investigation at a Sci-Fi convention, and the suspects are all ex-cast members of a classic genre show.**

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*Okay, that's a lie.  I ALWAYS call him when he's still working on the show, sometimes right up against the wire.  The poor bastage.  But the fault isn't solely mine: he could refuse to answer, right?

**Spoiler: It was Walter Koenig that did it.  And of course you know why.