Monday, November 19, 2018

Life is Just a (Milton-Bradley) Game.

I will get to Thanksgiving (Wait, what? This week?) and all that Christmas nostalgia bullshit before too long, but I was thinking--which is always always a bad start--and just wanted to jot this down before I forget it. God forbid my half-awake, half-still-stoned-on-ZzzQuil, Monday morning musings about life go unrecorded.

Take life step-by-step. Often literally. What do you have to do right now? Do it, then find time to stop taking a step and think about the steps beyond the next step, and sometimes way beyond the next steps. To figure out those steps, first you think about what's important to you. What's important to you depends on your principles and your priorities. We always make lists about the very next steps (that reminds me, cat litter), but feel free to write the big ones down too. Sometimes it seems weird to write down the big things--you're like, "What, I need a note to remember my selfless dedication to albino manatee preservation?" I'm just saying it can't hurt.

Here's my real point: When you scribble out your plans (goals, dreams, whatever), use a plain notebook. Not some fancy fuckin' vegan pleather-bound affirmation journal tied shut with cruelty-free, single-origin hemp twine. You don't write in those. No one does, they just sit on desks, and eventually get nestled away on bookshelves. No one writes in them because the fanciness makes you feel like you should be writing about something important. Remember--you're not writing about something important, you're writing about your life. Yes, it's unique, but still everybody's got one, so get over it. Do you think it's a mistake that your life is referred to in the lower case, but the game and the cereal and even that crappy Eddie Murphy movie are capitalized? No, it's entirely appropriate.

Disclaimer: I may have heard all this somewhere and stolen it, joke for joke. Either that or I'm really tired of my own shtick, which is not only possible, it's perfectly understandable. In any case, I'm gonna stop now. I can't change the cat litter but something must be done.

(One last thing, John Cleese talks about life here and it's really good. Oh, and the last last thing: don't feed the trolls. It really is the most valid modern truism.)

Ha ha, you caught me! I made dad Gacy!

Monday, November 12, 2018

Newsday TV Book Stuff, November 13-19, 1983.

Yeah, I fucked up. Got all busy with life and shit, fell woefully behind on posting TV listings from Long Island Newsday guides of the 70's, and with a Charlie Callas-style FRRRRTTT!--there went your overly-specific nostalgia fix. And just as I was coming up on the Most Wonderful Time of the Year--the new TV season! September, Labor Day, back to school! Then October and Halloween! Then--well, you probably know how the months and holidays go from there.

I swear on Fred Silverman's untended grave that I'll get back to those 1973 issues one day. In the meantime, here's a handful of scans from the Newsday TV Book of this week, 1983. (And if you're still needing that nostalgia itch scratched, you can always check out my YouTube channel (Hugo Faces) for old video clips like commercials and whatnot, or hit up my Facebook group (same name as this blog--go figure!) for posts reflecting the randomest of my whims--you never know WHAT you'll find there! (Other than nothing that occurred after the 80's.)

The Newsday Channel was on Cablevision 24 and had very little live content. It was mostly just on-screen graphics, kinda like a newspaper, but much less convenient.
Here's a Dollar Shoe ad for Thanksgiving, with a clip art pilgrim that looks an awful lot like my tenth grade English teacher, Mr. Ettenson. He is about to annihilate a turkey in the most gruesome way imaginable.
I was no longer visiting Hicks Nurseries to see their animated Christmas displays by this time. It's just as well, as I'm sure I was too old for whatever this Santakins bullshit is.
Finally (What? I said it was just a handful!), here's the Friday afternoon listings, included only for the Baba-Booeyesque hair replacement spokesmodel in the adjacent ad. Hmm, I can't find any online references to a singer from that era named "David Novak."