Michael McKean

Sometimes we're out of dog poop bags and have to make do with Zip-Loc Baggies. When I seal one up I always think yeah, that'll stay fresh.

“Well, the smart money's on Harlow and the moon is in the street
And the shadow boys are breaking all the laws
And you're east of East Saint Louis and the wind is making speeches
And the rain sounds like a round of applause”
Time, by Tom Waits.
Now that’s a lyric.

Be sure and read my piece how all '60s bands sound alike in TALKIN' 'BOUT MY GENERALIZATION, out soon.

Rare selfie from the Hummel Telescope.

Pardon the sincerity, but I hope y’all are having a really nice holiday season.

We liked A Complete Unknown. You know, even if I were unaware of the history, I still would have known Dylan was going to go electric at Newport because of the earlier scene with Chekov's amp.

There's a very interesting SF novel by Harry Turtledove, Guns of the South, about white 20th century South Africans time-traveling to Civil War America to help out "guess which side" with weapons & tech. No idea what's made me think of that.

When fictional characters die, do their arcs pass before their eyes?

Happy birthday to my darlin.

In just a few days, you can see SPINAL TAP II: THE END CONTINUES on various large screens around the world. I’d recommend it, if only for the greatness. And the loudness. Plus Junior Mints.

RIP Marianne Faithfull

A challenge to you singers out there.

There are no old whippersnappers.

Happy birthday to this international treasure.

Better get started on that Leisure Suit Larry live-action project. Ryan Reynolds is going to age out before you know it.

RIP David Johansen, who lived many lives.

Papa John Creech was great. I can see why Madonna wrote that song about him.

The level of your tolerance for old westerns is called your "hopalong capacity".

Gil & Ruth McKean c. 1970. Any questions?