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When the Republicans chose Donald Trump to be their representative in the general election, I was convinced that they had selected the only man who couldn't win, a reality television star and self-proclaimed business genius who ruined both the USFL and Atlantic City, New Jersey. Obviously, I underestimated how much Americans hate Hillary Clinton. I hate being wrong.

People say they hate government, yet they keep re-electing the same Congressmen. They say they want to change a broken system, but they vote for the same political party their parents voted for. So don't try to tell me that this election was about anything other than a referendum on whether they wanted a woman who lied about her correspondence to run their country.

Just think how big a win it would have been if the Republican candidate hadn't called American P.O.W.s "losers" or said that most Mexicans in America were rapists or bragged about how he sexually harassed women or called the whole system rigged unless he won. Ye gods. This was the better option?

While I join at least 50% of Americans trying to come to terms with the surprise election outcome of a lifetime, I admit that I have already learned something new. I used to believe that people voted for the candidate that offered them what they wanted. While that's still true, I learned that what they want isn't a job (which Trump can't create) or a handout (which Trump won't offer). What they want is a friend. In politics, personal charisma trumps all. Everyone's willing to forgive their friend for just about anything, even being an ill-tempered, misogynistic racist. Sorry, Hillary, but you aren't any better at being charismatic than you are at managing your email.

Now America's newest cult of personality friend is Donald Trump. We'll just have to live with him and his foibles until someone more charismatic comes along. (What's Oprah doing these days?)

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Screenshot from my phone on election night:

When the BBC is showing a mushroom cloud, you know things are bad.

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This is the final batch of movies watched in October.

91. (1029.) Jezebel (1938)
Geez, 1930s Hollywood was obsessed with the Antebellum South. This story is more than superficially similar to 1939's Gone with the Wind and, quite frankly, better. I still don't know if I'd say I liked it, but given that I can't stand Gone with the Wind, I think I'll consider this a win.

92. (1030.) The Gumball Rally (1976)
Geez, 1970s Hollywood was obsessed with illegal automobile races. This is essentially the same movie as Cannonball Run. I can't say it's better, but it's still plenty entertaining. I liked it, especially Raul Julia's performance.

93. (1031.) The Rock-afire Explosion (2008)
If you're about my age, you probably remember ShowBiz Pizza. It was the original Chuck E. Cheese competitor that featured an animatronic animal band, the (unintentionally creepy) Rock-afire Explosion. This movie is a documentary about the robotic band's creator and die-hard fans. The film wants to be hopeful, but underneath the candy coating of sweet optimism lies a rotten core of bitter tragedy. I recommend this cautionary tale of nostalgia run amok to anyone who remembers peeking under the curtain to see Billy Bob looking back.

94. (1032.) The Frisco Kid (1979)
Harrison Ford and Gene Wilder play an odd couple in the American West. It's kind of like Shanghai Noon, except neither character is all that competent. For whatever other flaws it has (pacing is a bit of a problem as it starts slow), it's worth watching to see Han Solo in the Wild West.

More to come.

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My doctor says my cholesterol is too high. He wants me to exercise for more than an hour a day and consider a Mediterranean Diet, with high concentrations of fruits. He also wants me to avoid processed food entirely, especially things like french fries.

I'm not sure I can do that.

Exercise is the least of the problem. I'm already walking July for 30 minutes and then spending another 30 on the elliptical. In addition, I'd been contemplating how I can add some strength training to that regimen. I'm actually starting to like exercising.

On the other hand, I do eat too much processed snack food. I admit it. It's a bad habit that I'm always aware of, even when I'm eating it. I can make a sincere effort to cut back (he says as he stuffs another handful of potato chips in his face).

What I cannot do is eat more fruits. I hate fruit. I hate its texture and flavor. Berries are gross. Bananas trigger my gag reflex. I saw what apples did to Snow White. And don't even get me started on oranges. If I thought global warming would wipe all fruit off the face of the planet, I'd leave my car running 24 hours a day.

I understand that a Mediterranean Diet might prolong my life, but quality of life has to count for something, too. How am I supposed to enjoy a life of only eating foods I hate? Frankly, I'd rather have a heart attack.

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There's only one more week remaining in this godforsaken presidential election, and still no one has answered the single most important question of our times: do the candidates wear boxers or briefs?

I'm of the MTV generation, and I recall when Bill Clinton was asked the question. His answer was "Usually briefs." Bernie Sanders said the same thing when Ellen asked him last year. But what about Trump? Or Hillary?

Personally, I used to wear standard white briefs until one evening in 1993, when an icebreaker at my coed freshman dorm had everyone trade underwear and mingle until we had all recovered our own. While everyone else revealed a pair of boxers or silk panties, my only option was a pair of tighty-whities. My underwear was very, very easy to recover. At least my name wasn't written in them.

You can imagine my humiliation. I spent the rest of the mixer sitting alone on a bench holding some stranger's underwear in the air. Scarred by that experience, I naturally changed my underwear preference. Now I only wear colored briefs. (The pair I'm wearing right now are navy blue.)

Based on my experience, I know that what you wear under your clothes says a lot about you. That's why it's so important to see what our presidential candidates are wearing. Trump, Hillary, it's time to drop your pants. It's a matter of national security.

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Book Three of the Central Kingdoms Chronicles, A Quest Before Dying, is now available both as a $2.99 Kindle eBook on Amazon.com and as a $12.00 paperback from CreateSpace.com.

Book One, The Wizards of Ranaloy, and Book Two, Prince Thorgils' War, are already available in both formats via Amazon.com and CreateSpace.com. You can find links and preview chapters at CentralKingdomsChronicles.com.

Thank you to all who have supported this project.

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Sit back and enjoy as I regale you with tales of the first five movies I watched in October.

86. (1024.) The Sugarland Express (1974)
Steven Spielberg's first theatrical movie! It's not what you've come to expect from the master of mainstream schmaltz. In fact, despite having some very comedic elements, it's really a tragedy. Besides Goldie Hawn, what this movie really has going for it are some fantastic shots of Texas landscapes. It's far from Spielberg's best, but it's also much, much better than his worst.

87. (1025.) Foul Play (1978)
This movie is mostly a comedic take on the noir thrillers of yesteryear. The first two-thirds is pretty entertaining (it's easy to see Chevy Chase's eventual Fletch character here), but it runs out of steam by the last 30 minutes. By then, the ending was no longer in doubt and the long car race through San Francisco (more Blue Brothers than Bullit) felt like a tedious waste of time.

88. (1026.) Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016)
How was this only in theaters for two weeks? This is very much Spinal Tap for the Millennial generation. I know that my father's mother would have hated the foul-mouthed, uncouth lyrics, but I loved every satirical moment of it (even though I'm an Xer myself).

89. (1027.) Station West (1948)
Dick Powell stars as a hard boiled detective in the old west. It's not quite as good as that pitch sounds, but it's worth a watch if you like RKO detective movies. And I do.

90. (1028.) The Star (1952)
Hollywood sure loves stories about the dark side of Hollywood. There's some great writing and acting in this film (though not from Natalie Wood, who acts as well as her namesake). The film closes with a pointed slap in the face from the screenwriter. I found it a clever and effective ending to this depressing character study. Well done.

More to come.

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