here's to the heartache

You know what my favorite part about seeing fireworks is, whether for the 4th of July or the ones for the carnival? I'll give you a hint, it's not the big booms and bright sparks of color. It's that lead up to them starting, everyone is finding their perfect spot to sit and watch, kids are running around with sparklers and laughing, having the best time. Usually there's either a DJ hired for the event or someone is blaring their own music from their car and there's just this feeling of summer nostalgia that never fails to amaze me. Then that first whistle cuts through the air, followed by the loud crack that kicks everything off, and suddenly everyone is quiet, looking up at the sky in awe. Honestly, I love it.

I mean, it's cute and all, but you haven't lived until you've seen the Macy's fireworks over the East River. That is a show. This whole small-town 'everyone gathering in a lawn chair with a cooler' thing is... a choice. I guess it has a certain kind of charm to it. If I were going watch the town display tomorrow, though, where would the best spot around here even be? Because if I'm surviving a small-town 4th of July, I at least want the best seat in the house.

Wait, hold up. You care whether or not you're seen as a terrible person? Wow, you're going against your whole brand, Weston. Anyways, no, it doesn't. Even the nicest, most saintly people are capable of enjoying other people's public drama.

God forbid I ruin the whole “insufferable bastard” brand I’ve spent years perfecting. Glad to know I’m still safely in morally gray territory. It would’ve been deeply inconvenient to discover I’ve gone soft.

I feel like there’s a difference between enjoying it and actively causing it, so you’re probably fine. That said, I can’t really judge because I’ve definitely had those moments where you just end up watching a situation unfold a little too invested in it. Kind of like a trainwreck, you just can't look away.

It really is the human equivalent of a trainwreck, isn’t it? You know you should look away, but the sheer audacity of grown adults losing their minds over a parking spot is too compelling. I’ll admit though… I did feel a small twinge of disappointment when security finally broke it up. I was invested, kinda hoped I'd see how it'd end.

I don't get too many tantrums at the library, at least not from parents. I get them from kids not wanting to leave, but I honestly welcome those tantrums because I don't blame them. Regardless of their reasons it's fun to take those tantrums as inspiration for character crashouts in my books. I'm always happy to get out and do something that doesn't involve children. I'm pretty simple, so I'm happy with going out to a bar or some karaoke or something.

Karaoke it is, then. However, let me be very clear upfront — I will not, under any circumstances, be getting on that stage. I’m there strictly as a spectator and professional critic. You, on the other hand… I’m fully prepared to judge your song choices with zero mercy if you go on.

Maybe they think that if they throw a big enough fit people will give them whatever they want to make them stop. I would love to meet someone who is just doing it for the audience, that would be an interesting person to meet.

If they’re doing it to get their way, it’s a terrible business model. Though, to be fair, I spend my entire day dealing with grown adults throwing tantrums all day at my parents' pharma company, so who knows. Maybe there's some merit to it. But there’s something special about seeing it out in the wild. If you're game, I wouldn't say no to some company the next time I decide to spend the afternoon people-watching. What's your venue of choice?

Absolutely not. As long as I'm not involved, I love watching adults have public meltdowns too! Sometimes I wonder if having these meltdowns ever works in their favor and if that's why they keep doing it.

I’ve started to wonder the same thing though — do these people actually believe throwing a tantrum is going to magically make the other person surrender? Or is it just performative rage for the audience? Because if it’s the latter, they’re fully committing to the bit.

Okay, maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but I am begging people to stop treating every new superhero casting like it’s a blood feud between generations. I saw a post comparing the Man of Steel cast to James Gunn’s Superman cast, and the comments were acting like only one version is allowed to exist at a time. Like…that’s the whole point of these stories being retold? Every generation gets their Superman. Their Batman. Their Lois Lane. Their version of hope, heroism, humanity, whatever. It’s not some betrayal of the older films for a new cast to step into those roles. It’s the passing of the torch. That’s how storytelling works. And honestly? Most of the actors people pit against each other did phenomenal in their own right. Different interpretations do not automatically equal bad interpretations. Now, with that being said — Christopher Reeve is obviously in his own category entirely. That man is Superman. I don’t make the rules. That's just how it is.

That was a lot of words just to say Christopher Reeve is the best Superman. I love how you started this by begging everyone to stop treating it like a feud, only to end it by throwing on the crown and going "Anyway, Christopher Reeve is the definitive answer, I don’t make the rules." Truly incredible.

Could you be any more full of yourself, Brody? Truly, I'm wondering if that ego could get any bigger before it pops.

The ego is self-sustaining at this point. It mostly runs on spite and the occasional reluctant compliment from people who pretend they can’t stand me. So really, you’re doing your part to keep it healthy. You’re welcome.

Probably a mixture of the two, to be honest. My brothers and uncles have always been cause for mental concern lol. As for the closet, though, there’s nothing like that. Thankfully. My uncle just uses his son’s stuff to dress up the goat. That being said, I really hope he never sees this and gets any ideas or something.

Using hand-me-downs on the goat somehow makes it worse, doesn’t it? At least if they bought the damn thing its own wardrobe it would feel like a deliberate choice. Although, I have to say. My ego may never recover from knowing that somewhere out there is a deceased goat that's more seasonally accessorized than I am.

Exactly. You know you shouldn't look, but then your brain is chanting 'don't look don't look don't look' so loudly that you sort of start to convince yourself that it can't be that bad. Then you make the mistake and look for two seconds, and immediately want to run away screaming. You're right about the psyching yourself out bit, though. I always knew those dolls weren't going to move, but I'd also seen Child's Play and Saw so there was that voice in the back of my mind going 'But are you really sure?'. I'll never forget the morning I woke up and found one of those dolls positioned right next to my bed; my grandmother saw me staring down one of the few male dolls she had and mistook it as admiration for it. The speed with which I bolted from bed and against the wall on the opposite side of the room genuinely had me wondering if I should take up sports.

The fact that your grandmother thought it was admiration makes it so much worse—like, no Grandma, I wasn’t bonding with the tiny Victorian ghost boy, I was checking to see if he had a knife. Did you ever actually tell her it terrified you, or did you just have to live with a new 'roommate' for the rest of the visit?

Oh my god. My grandmother has a Victorian doll collection that will make your skin crawl and make you feel paranoid that people are watching you; the damn things make eye contact no matter where you are. And it's not just one or two dolls. It's dozens upon dozens of them. She has floor to ceiling shelving down the entire main hallway, plus an entire room filled, and it’s not like you can avoid going down that hallway; it leads to the rest of the house so you have to pass through it. And every single doll is angled slightly different like they were tracking your movements. I’ll never forget we were staying there over the holidays when I was a kid, and I damn near pissed myself in the middle of the night - half asleep and trying to get to the bathroom only to come face to face with creepy ass dolls. It was horrible. I still avoid her house whenever I can.

I hate that I know exactly the vibe you’re talking about too—like you’re trying to walk normal but your brain is going don’t look at them don’t look at them don’t look at them while every porcelain face is watching your every move. And the worst part is you know they’re stationary, but your body refuses to accept that information. Like you understand they’re inanimate but you still end up bracing for one of them to blink first.