35/2605. Odd Man Out (1947)
I read that Roman Polanski, Sam Peckinpah, and Gore Vidal considered this to be among their favorite noir movies, but I agree with some of its contemporary critics that after a fantastically engaging start, it loses its way as it staggers (and then crawls) to its unsatisfying (but necessary?) conclusion.

36/2606. Critic's Choice (1963)
Sixties sex comedies are not my bag, baby, and it doesn't help that Bob Hope and Lucille Ball don't really have any sexual chemistry. But it's a mild enough example of the genre to be an inoffensive way to pass an afternoon.

37/2607. Toy Story 4 (2019)
Purposelessness. Abandonment. Loneliness. Death. Toy Story movies go hard and are always worth the effort to watch (though my fingers).

38/2608. Two Weeks with Love (1950)
The A plot of this MGM musical with Jane Powell and Ricardo Montalban is fine, but "little sister" Debbie Reynolds steals every scene she is in, especially singing "Aba Daba Honeymoon."

39/2609. One Battle After Another (2025)
Now that I've seen this, Paul Thomas Anderson's recent Oscar feels more like a career retrospective award. I do not think this is his best work, certainly no better than Licorice Pizza or Inherent Vice. Full disclosure requires I admit that I am no particular fan of Magnolia or Boogie Nights, either, but I agree Anderson is a rare talent and I do not begrudge the industry eventually recognizing it.

For an underground militant revolutionary radio DJ, that's a pretty prominent Coca-Cola can.

More to come.

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Flower

I first heard of Phair in 1993 in the Mazda Miata with Mom during the afternoon rush hour commute between Emory University and Newnan when Phair's debut Exile in Guyville album was reviewed on NPR.

Thanks to the Internet, I can tell you that day must have been Tuesday, July 20,¹ when Ken Tucker reviewed Exile in Guyville, released in June 1993, for Terry Gross's Fresh Air. That was the summer before my freshman year at Emory, so what was I doing in the car? Was I working part-time in the Pediatric Infectious Diseases office with Mom before my work-study position started in August, or was I just killing time driving the convertible around downtown Atlanta while Mom was working? Could have been either.)

The Internet also makes it possible for me to transcribe Tucker's praise for this song in particular:

There's a thin quality to Exile in Guyville. It ends up making you think that Liz Phair is something of a dabbler, that If this rock thing doesn't work out, she'll take up painting or maybe just use her trust fund to live in Paris for a while. But there's a core of about four or five songs here that are really first rate, and one in particular, called "Flower," that I can't play on the radio but which is as fine and bold a song as I've heard about sexual obsession.

Obviously, I had to have any album with that kind of recommendation. I probably bought the cassette at the Tower Records behind Lennox Mall, and I recall playing it quite a bit during the long commutes between Atlanta and Newnan. Listening to Phair always made me feel rebellious and cool, as good rock music should. "I'll take you home and make you like it," indeed.

Thanks, Internet!

¹ The Internet tells me July 20, 1993², was the same day that the press box caught on fire at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium, which 90s Atlanta Braves fans will recall as the day that Fred "Crime Dog" McGriff made his debut for the team, in his third at-bat hitting a home run to drive in Ron Gant to tie the game at 5-5 in the 6th inning. The fire didn't start until 6, so I think we found out about the fire after we got home. The fire delayed the game start until after 9; I might have watched it, but I don't have any memory of that.

² You know what else happened on July 20, 1993? Some guy named Vince Foster committed suicide. And no one ever uttered his name again.

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70/2502. Professional Sweetheart (1933)
Yes, the title of this pre-Code film is suggestive of prostitution, and star Ginger Rogers plays a radio personality who is, shall we say, not exactly the darling girl she plays for the public. But the title actually refers to the gullible rube the show's sponsors hire to grease contract negotiations with their temperamental singing sensation. The best thing about this melodrama is, of course, Rogers.

71/2503. Pie to Die For: A Hannah Swensen Mystery (2025)
Once a delight, this Hallmark mystery series is experiencing some terrible diminishing returns. The guilty suspect is obvious from the start, and everything just drags on. And seriously, enough already with the mother mugging for the camera to create "comedy" moments. You're embarrassing yourself.

72/2504. Krush Groove (1985)
Hollywood's fictionalized version of the Def Jam Recording story is mostly after-school special morality play built around stellar musical performances by Run-D.M.C., The Fat Boys, Sheila E., Kurtis Blow, and LL Cool J. If nothing else, it's a great time capsule of its era (even if Russell Simmons looks nothing like Blair Underwood).

Coca-Cola: The taste of the hip-hop generation!

73/2505. The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie (2024)
This feels like yet another example of a movie made by a studio who felt compelled to make a movie with their intellectual property to appease the lawyers without really having any interest in spending the money to make it right. Sure, it has the appropriate tone and gags for a shorter Looney Tunes cartoon, but it plays out much too slowly and none of what makes it on screen sparkles. This would have bored me even if I was a kid.

74/2506. Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked (2011)
Jenny Slate is too good a comedian for this (work it, girl), David Cross is clearly just taking a paycheck, and don't even get me started on why they hired Amy Poheler, Anna Faris, and Christina Applegate to play the Chipettes if their signature voices and personalities were going to be opaque to the audience. The target demographic is obviously pre-teens, and they can have it.

75/2507. Dear Ms.: A Revolution in Print (2025)
This anthology documentary of the early years of Ms. magazine feels like a television series they couldn't sell so they crammed into one movie. That's not a complaint so much as an observation. I actually liked it quite a bit.

More to come.

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While following a link to the recently announced song that will be the theme for Peacemaker Season 2 ("Oh Lord" by Foxy Shazam), I noticed that YouTube has helpfully created a Mix, which they describe as "a nonstop playlist tailored to you." I always say I'm not really a music guy, so it's very kind of YouTube to decide for me what music I like.

This is the first 50 songs (eliminating duplicate artists) in my current Mix. Let's see how the algorithm did.

1. "One Night in Bangkok," Murray Head (1984)
2. "Original Sin," Taylor Dayne (1994)
3. "Maps," Yeah Yeah Yeahs (2003)
4. "Chaise Lounge," Wet Leg (2022)
5. "Owner of a Lonely Heart," Yes (1983)
6. "Mr. Blue Sky," Electric Light Orchestra (1977)
7. "It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)," R.E.M. (1987)
8. "Breakfast at Tiffany's," Deep Blue Something (1994)
9. "Only Happy When It Rains," Garbage (1996)
10. "Teenage Dirtbag," Wheatus (2000)
11. "All the Things She Said," t.A.T.u. (2002)
12. "That’s Not My Name," The Ting Tings (2008)
13. "Got My Mind Set On You," George Harrison (1987)
14. "Video Killed the Radio Star," The Buggles (1980)
15. "Dancing Queen," ABBA (1976)
16. "You're the Best Around," Joe Espisito (1984)
17. "Do Ya Wanna Taste It," Wig Wam (2005)
18. "Loser," Beck (1994)
19. "Buddy Holly," Weezer (1994)
20. "Here It Goes Again," OK Go (2005)
21. "I Love It," Icona Pop (2013)
22. "You should be sad," Halsey (2020)
23. "I Ran (So Far Away)," Flock of Seagulls (1982)
24. "Head Over Heals," Tears for Fears (1985)
25. "Burning Down the House," Talking Heads (1983)
26. "You Can Call Me Al," Paul Simon (1986)
27. "Message in a Bottle," The Police (1979)
28. "Love Will Tear Us Apart," Joy Division (1980)
29. "Steppin' Out," Joe Jackson (1982)
30. "Mr. Roboto," Styx (1983)
31. "Daydream Believer," The Monkees (1967)
32. "End of the Line," The Traveling Wilburys (1988)
33. "Miami Dolphins Number One," Lee Ofman (1972)
34. "Paint It, Black," The Rolling Stones (1966)
35. "The Passenger," Iggy Pop (1977)
36. "Coming Up," Paul McCartney (1980)
37. "Steal My Sunshine," Len (1999)
38. "Groove Is In The Heart," Deee-Light (1990)
39. "Don't You Want Me," The Human League (1981)
40. "Blue Monday," New Order (1983)
41. "Take On Me," a-ha (1985)
42. "Come On Eileen," Dexys Midnight Runners (1982)
43. "In a Big Country," Big Country (1983)
44. "Cars," Gary Numan (1979)
45. "C'mon, Let's Do It," Gerhard Heinz (1977)
46. "Turn It On Again," Genesis (2004)
47. "Life In a Northern Town," Dream Academy (1985)
48. "Flash's Theme," Queen (1980)
49. "Roam," B-52s (1985)
50. "Breakout," Swing Out Sister (1986)

Wow. If I was picking songs for myself, that's not the list I would have made. I mean, if I only get one Genesis song, I'd prefer it was "Land of Confusion" with its overt Superman reference and kick-ass electronic drums. But I cannot deny that yes, that is all Walter Music. I have a real emotional connection to some of those.

I see where your head is, YouTube programmers: audio honeypots! Nostalgia captures eyeballs, even mine.

The one song on that list that stands out to me is "Love Will Tear Us Apart," which is fine; it's just not a song I ever seek out. (I don't recall ever even Googling it. Is it there because of "Blue Monday," the Joy Division/New Order connection?) I also find it interesting that despite including Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, and two Beatles, only three of the above performances are older than I am. Fun fact: As I type this in 2025, there are more surviving Stones (3) than Monkees (1).

In case you're curious, as I was: the average year is 1989, the median 1985, the mode 1983 (5). That sounds about right, as '83 was the year of Thriller. I still remember where I was when I watched the debut of the video on MTV (on a cabinet-sized, wood-paneled television with knobs!). We watched a lot of MTV in '83. We also watched a lot of Night Tracks on the TBS Superstation in the wee hours of Friday nights. That's what we had to do before YouTube, kids: stay up real late in the hopes that they would play our favorite songs.

And yes, I just listened to every song on that list again. Don't stop to ask. And now you've found a break to make at last. You've got to find a way. Say what you want to say. Breakout.

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For the first time in about three decades, I saw a new dentist today.

To be clear, I have seen a dentist at least twice a year for decades; it was just always the same dentist. I started seeing him when I was going to Emory University in the 1990s, and whether I lived in Atlanta, Athens, or Newnan, I still drove to Decatur to pay cash to have Dr. Joe Looper tell me I had new cavities.

Unfortunately (for me, not Joe), he decided to retire this year. Good for him. Even though he's a Tennessee Volunteers alumnus, I hope he enjoys all the time he's going to have on his hands supporting the Vols. I'm personally disappointed, obviously, but my only regret is that he didn't give me a little more notice. He retired barely three weeks before my next scheduled appointment. With all due respect to whoever bought Joe's practice, if I have break in a new dentist, it might as well be someone I don't have to drive two hours to visit.

So today I went to the practice that my father and aunt use, and it was fine. The young hygienist (who graduated during the pandemic from a local high school [that didn't exist when I was in high school] and sort of fell into training for her mother's line of work because she couldn't attend any colleges in person but enjoys being a hygienist, especially the flossing) was friendly and gentle (even during the flossing). And the young dentist, who has a dental degree from a non-SEC school, used a newfangled dental camera to review my aging radiolucent composite fillings before encouraging me to be more attentive to my coffee-stained molars. No cavities were found, and all things considered, the price seemed reasonable enough with their in-network insurance plan.

I have another appointment scheduled for October, but I won't get too attached. After all, I'm only going to have to find a new dentist in about 2055.

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Loser

When this song was first gaining widespread fame in late 1993, I was urged by my freshman college roommate to call in and request it from local radio. My memory was that I called 99X, because that was the Atlanta station that played this kind of music (as opposed to the heavier 96 Rock or the "classic" rock on Z93) but whoever answered the phone at whatever station I called was really quite dismissive and claimed no idea what the hell I was talking about. Maybe he wasn't just being a dick. (Maybe it was only being played on WREK at the time?) It would be a few more months before "Loser" really broke through to number 1 on the alt charts.

Does anyone even listen to terrestrial radio anymore?

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My Mother's sister has chided me for not posting often enough. She says she reads my blog when she wakes up in the middle of the night. She has asked for more really long posts so that her eyes will get extra tired and close themselves. Wriphe.com: Boring People to Sleep Since 2002!®

So let's see, what things have I encountered recently that can be used as soporific fodder?

• I'm already suffering from Olympics withdrawal. I love the Olympics. I watch all I can, and I'm always sad to see them go on hiatus. While I hate the corporate and political greed that always accompanies them, that's just a sideshow for the main event: athletes from all over the world competing for little blocks of electroplated precious metals. I love the bonhomie between athletes and especially their ability to take a loss — essentially the destruction of their lifelong dreams — gracefully. (Speaking as a lifelong Miami Dolphins fan, I firmly believe learning to lose is the single most important thing in any sport.) Of course, I like seeing happy winners, too. The Olympics are our biannual reminder that people are what is really important in this life. Life could be a paradise if we'd just let it.

• “Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.” †

• The notifications on my telephone stopped working over the weekend, so no sounds when I get texts or phone calls. Not that I get a lot of phone calls. But if you call and I don't answer, now I can say that I didn't hear it without lying. (It's a software problem, not a hardware problem. For example, I can still watch YouTube videos. My notification sound effect is the sound of a Star Trek [TOS] communicator incoming call chirp, but my ringtone is a default system sound, and neither works. I have the phone turned off for recharge and will turn it back on tomorrow in the hopes that it just needs a good nap to get things sorted out. That sometimes works for me.)

• Update: It's working again. Which means that if I don't answer your call, I'm probably ignoring you on purpose again.

• Update Update: It's not working again. Which means it's time for me to buy a new phone. (This Google Pixel 7 lasted just a year and a half. I bought it because it was cheaper than a Samsung Galaxy, and, well, you get what you pay for.)

• If you're looking to go to sleep, do not click on this YouTube link. That's the song I put in my CD player and turned up REAL LOUD while I was dressing (because I had started singing it in the shower). There's a reason that I have never used Huey Lewis and the News in my "new years" posts: their lyrics are actually good. Ok, to be perfectly honest, the song I started singing in the shower was Lindsey Buckingham's Time Bomb Town, which is the second song on the Back to the Future soundtrack album. You know the one: "There must be about a million / single ways to go down." I'm sure you recognize it as the song playing on the clock radio when Marty wakes up in bed in 1985 (the first time). Once I realized what I was singing, my brain automatically clicked over to "Please don't drive 88 / Don't wanna be late again." Which, of course, I'm sure you recognize as the song playing on the clock radio when Marty wakes up in bed in 1985 (the second time). And that's why I buy soundtrack albums: so I can wash out the earworms I pick up in the shower.

Are you asleep yet, Kelley? If not, I can start talking about my dreams. Nothing is more boring than someone else's dreams. I had one recently where I worked up the nerve to ask Natalie Portman out on a date... and she said yes! (Although I got the impression it was a pity date.) We went out for coffee.

† Milne, A. A. "Chapter VI, In Which Eeyore Has a Birthday and Gets Two Presents," in Winnie-The-Pooh, pg. 72, E.P. Dutton & Company [New York], 1926

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Welcome to June, the 18th annual Wriphe.com Superman Month!

I'm typing this without my left index finger, which I cut while washing my car. (I'll never make that mistake again. Stay dirty, car!) My injury made me wonder when was the first time in comics we actually see Superman bleeding. So I went looking.

As you can see in the above panel from his two-page origin story published in Superman #1, Summer 1939, Superman's skin was essentially impenetrable from the get-go, so the opportunities for him to visibly bleed have always been few and far between.

If those aforementioned bursting shells led to any bloodshed, it was always hidden by smoke and debris. When Superman needed to give blood to save Lois Lane's life in 1940's Superman #6, he had to give the doctor a hand. Literally.

But that wasn't technically an injury, so I kept looking for something that could hurt Superman that wasn't Superman.

Magic was an early weakness (bloodlessly stealing Superman's powers multiple times in 1942), but Kryptonite wasn't introduced into the comics until 1949 in Superman #61. (Like many elements of the Superman mythos, Kryptonite first appeared in 1943 on the Adventures of Superman radio show.) It usually just made Superman weak and fall down. He doesn't even scrape his knees.

March 1960's Action Comics #262 would introduce Superman's immediate weakness under a red sun. In that issue Clark Kent gets stung by a bee for the first time. Two years later, a bare-knuckle boxing match against Lex Luthor on the planet Lexor under a red sun would give Superman a face full of bruises, but still no visible blood. This might be because beginning in 1954, the Comics Code Authority strictly forbid showing, among many other things, "All scenes of horror, excessive bloodshed, gory or gruesome crimes, depravity, lust, sadism, masochism." Bloodless injuries were no longer optional.

Action Comics #49, June 1942

The code would relax beginning in 1971, and by the time Superman was beaten to "death" by Doomsday in 1993's Superman #75, blood was everywhere. (The 90s were a violent time.) Unfortunately for Superman, the Code was nowhere to be found on the cover of 1978's All New Collectors' Edition #C-56, better known as "Superman Vs. Muhammad Ali." In that issue, following a different boxing match under a red sun, Superman gets beaten so badly by Ali that he bleeds all over his pillow. If there's a lesson here, it's probably that Superman should give up boxing.

For whatever reason, that bloody pillow was removed in a re-colored 2010 reprinting. But that's okay. I'm sure it wasn't the first time Superman unwillingly bled on panel anyway. Because after four (delightful) hours of looking through comics and comics websites, I found this sequence in 1976's Superman #297:

Ouch! Be careful where you put those fingers, Superman.

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When it's quiet, I hear a ringing that doesn't seem to exist. I'm pretty sure that tinnitus is just a sign of my ears gradually ossifying. My solution to that is to turn on the radio. I still hear the static, but at least then I can pretend there's a source.

That's not the only time I hear things. Sometimes I think I hear someone call my name or dogs barking when there can't be anyone around to call my name or my dogs are sleeping beside me. This has to be my mind playing tricks on me, right?

I probably shouldn't be typing any of this. Everyone knows that hearing voices is a bad sign. A little over a decade ago, my then across-the-street neighbor told her friends that she could hear people having conversations in the basement when no one else was there. They put her in a home.

She was nearly 100. I'm only half that age. I'm too young to be put in a home. But at least in a home there would be other people who could be calling my name. I have to admit that, technically, that solves the problem.

In the meantime, if you call my name and I don't answer you, know that I probably did hear you; I'm just in denial.

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EPISODE FOUR: SURVIVAL, PART THREE

Quig stepped over the corpse of the boarding craft captain as he made his way to the craft's command console. The boarding craft had pierced the hull of the Chutoi's storage bay, and only its specialized atmospheric shield projectors were keeping everyone from being blown out into the vacuum of space. Quig admired its control panel; it was an impressive bit of engineering.

"They put up less of a fight than I expected," said Striker One from the storage bay as he wiped the blood from his hands with a tunic he had torn off one of the dead slavers.

"That's because they keep underestimating us," said Sahara.

"I don't know about that," said Cobryn. The pilot leaned against the bulkhead as he held an emergency medpack against the laser wound in his thigh. "They estimated where I was pretty accurately."

"You know what I mean."

Striker One said, "Just because we beat one boarding party doesn't mean we're safe yet. Or have you forgotten that our engine is dead, our life support is failing, and there are still two warships out there filled with slavers and gun runners who hate us?"

"I haven't forgotten."

"Then what's our next move?"

Sahara shrugged. "I'm open to suggestions."

"I have one," Quig called back to his comrades. "Piercing our hull didn't damage this boarding craft at all. It looks like we could use it to return to its mother ship."

Cobryn didn't look pleased. "Are you crazy? The Fenris is full of slavers!"

"Exactly. They're slavers. They're expecting their craft back with slaves in it," said Quig. "Only, if we're not slaves, we'd have the element of surprise in an ambush."

"I like it," said Sahara. "Let's take the fight to them."

Striker One asked, "What about Bronson? He's still on the Fenris. Do we think we can overpower him?"

Quig smiled. "I have a plan for that. You see, according to the craft's log, this is just one type of boarding craft the Fenris carries."

He turned on the boarding craft's tight-beam communication array. "Boarding craft Hound's Tooth calling Fenris. We could use some help here. Can you send Bronson over?"

"I don't think that is wise," said Striker One.

The radio crackled to life. "I was hoping you'd ask. I'm on my way, Hound's Tooth."

"You are crazy," said Cobryn.

Quig snapped the radio off. "The Fenris's other boarding pods are one-way trips. Bronson will be expecting to fly back in this." He hopped off the pilot's seat. "If you can manage to fly this thing with one leg, Cobryn, I suggest you get ready. We're not going to have a lot of time after I start the overload on the Chutoi's power core."

"I think Quig is my kind of crazy," said Sahara as she and Striker One began helping Cobryn into the boarding craft.

It was almost a shame to blow up such a nice ship, Quig considered as he hustled down the corridor to the Chutoi engine room. But all things came to an end. So long as it wasn't his end, Quig could live with that.

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