For your aural pleasure.

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In 2020, Tua "If It Ain't Broke, Break It" Tagovailoa fell to the fifth overall pick in the NFL draft because scouts decided he was fragile after he broke his hip at Alabama. He missed 6 games in 2020 because of that hip and a busted thumb, 4 games in 2021 with broken ribs, and 4 games in 2022 with some pretty serious concussions. Last year was the first year he made it all the way through the too-long NFL season without missing any full games, and the Miami Dolphins, for the most part, looked pretty darn good. (At least until it got cold. Dolphins hate the cold.) If this was the new Tua, things were looking up.

Well, perhaps you've heard: in just the second game of the 2024 season, Tua had another severe concussion that left him stiffly lying on the field like... well, a player who's had a severe concussion. Nothing looks quite like the fencing response. Trust me, once you've seen it, you'll recognize it forever. And Dolphins fans have now seen it multiple times from Tua Tagovailoa.

In hindsight, "fragile" might be a polite way of putting it.

I don't mean to kick Tua while he's down. It's been proven in recent years that he gives the Dolphins their best shot at winning games. But winning really isn't everything. If it was, I wouldn't still be a Dolphins fan

I'm no doctor, and I'm certainly not getting paid $53 million a year to sacrifice my body for public spectacle, so I won't even pretend that I'm in any position to tell Tua what to do. What I will do instead is quote an infamously six-fingered man: "If you haven't got your health, then you haven't got anything." It's good advice no matter how many fingers you see.

UPDATE 09/17: Tua has been placed on Injured Reserve, which means he will miss at least 4 games because of this latest concussion. That's 8 full games (plus parts of 4 others) over the course of 2 calendar years (39 games) for concussions. That's a very, very bad trend.

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McFarlane Toys recently announced a new line of Batman cowl replicas. The "replica" in the name is important, because these cowls have never been worn by the actual Batman.

My topmost bookshelf currently showcases a Golden Age Superman statue, a battery-powered Star Trek TOS starship Enterprise, a Judge Dredd badge with my name on it, V,I,N,cent, Captain Carrot, and Booster Gold inaction figures and a life-size Batman Begins Halloween pail. The red-headed stepchild there is the Halloween pail. I'm not a big fan of the Batman Begins version of Batman, and it would be nice to replace the piercing gaze of that blue-eyed plastic pail with something less horrifying.

The new McFarlane cowls represent the 1966 television Batman, the 1989 movie Batman, and the 1993 comic book Batman. I like the idea of them, but I cannot bring myself to order one. For one thing, as I mentioned, they are stiff plastic replicas. More importantly, they are only 1:3 scale.

As everyone knows, the average American's head is about 9.5 inches high. (Batman is slightly larger than the average American, so assume his head is closer to 10 inches tall, not counting the pointy ears.) That means that a 1:3 scale cowl would only fit a 3-inch tall head! The packaging says they're about 7 inches tall with stand and pointy ears. If I put a 3-inch hood on my shelf, I'm worried it won't look so much like a Batman tribute as something I stole it from a racist Smurf.

So for the time being, I guess I'm sticking with plastic Christian Bale. On the bright side, his head can hold several bags of Halloween candy, and that's not nothing.

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78/2389. Rumble Fish (1983)
Francis Ford Coppola's self-defeating tendency towards artsy-fartsy bullshit is the defining attribute of this beautiful but hollow ode to teenage angst. Coppola obviously wanted this to be French New Wave, and his great cast certainly nails the style. However, his characters are barely-sketched caricatures, and their interactions are disappointingly meaningless.

If Coca-Cola is cool enough for Tom Waits, Coca-Cola is cool enough for everyone!

79/2390. Tell It to the Marines (1926)
Lon Chaney in a rare leading role where he isn't the monster. I don't know that I'd call it "good," but mostly because cinema and cultural mores have changed so much in the past century. Chaney and his rubber face are, as always, greatly entertaining.

80/2391. When We Were Shuttle (2022)
This documentary is an historical look back at the often overlooked Florida ground crew that built and maintained the space shuttles between missions. If you have any interest in the Space Age, especially the Space Transport System that defined the American space program for three decades, it's worth a watch.

81/2392. What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (2018)
This documentary is a biography of the very influential (and very controversial) 20th-century New Yorker film critic as told mostly by her very sympathetic allies. I'm more familiar with Kael the antagonist (via the stories told by the many, many people she went out of her way to offend), so I'm reluctant to accept everything this would have me believe about her motivations and accomplishments. But it is worthwhile to hear both sides.

82/2393. The Color Purple (1985)
My rule is that I have to watch at least half of a movie before I will put it on my "watched" list. This is a rare exception. Steven Spielberg is up to all his old tricks trying to pull tears from a stone. I made it about thirty minutes through a nonstop series of incest, rape, child abuse, and murder before I had to tap out. Life is too short to spend with people this awful, even if they're fictional. (Maybe especially if they're fictional.)

More to come.

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Mom has been working to prepare her residential rental property for new tenants, and that means overhauling the upstairs bathtub. The previous tenant used it for dying wool, and now the formerly white tub is very much not white. The tub is in such bad shape that she would probably consider replacing it if not for the fact that it is nearly a century old, made of cast iron, weighs a ton, and will never fit down the stairs. So instead of replacing it, I am resurfacing it. Or at least, I'm supposed to.

This is not a horror story about how an enamel paint job went awry. No, I haven't gotten to that step yet. This is a story about how a bathtub full of water ended up coming through the kitchen ceiling.

Step one in resurfacing the tub requires clearing away the old caulk and scouring the tub clean prior to sanding the entire surface. All of that went reasonably well. It was even surprisingly easy to remove the metal drain and overflow plate considering the tub's age and mistreatment. The problem was that all the water I poured in to rinse out the scouring cleanser somehow missed the drain pipe and instead flowed directly down the interior wall to emerge through the overhead light fixture in the kitchen below. (I wish I could show you a picture here, but I was too panicked by my discovery of the waterfall flowing from the active light fixture to take the time to grab my phone for a selfie.)

My working theory is that too much water pressure dislodged the drain pipe enough that much of the waste water overflowed the crack between pipe and tub. But given that on disassembly for cleaning, the kitchen's florescent light fixture contained what can only be called a "rust puddle," it sure looks like this leak has been dripping for a while. Considering how well the last tenant treated the tub, maybe in this specific case, it's not all my fault?

The silver lining to this otherwise very unwelcome rain cloud is that after a good mopping with every spare towel I could borrow from my aunt who lives nearby, the kitchen floor is now cleaner than it has been in ages. The next tenant might be cooking in the dark, but at least the floor is spotless!

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