SAUL BELLOW OVERDRIVE

For a long time we also benefitted from her being on Warner Brothers’ press screening list, on account of what I can only assume was administrative error and a charitable lack of interest in vetting the roster to make it less generous. True, my mom did work the culture desk for 33 years, but she is no Manohla Dargis (more like Manohla’s editor!) and doesn’t make a habit of reviewing movies when she writes. It took the pandemic for WB brass to finally prune the journalists getting Lincoln Center freebies 2-3 days in advance of the U.S. wide release. That was a sad occasion. I will be majorly bummed if Macy’s ever decides to do the same.

My dad: I am 100% certain there is a God, because no guy would ever mandate cutting off a piece of his own schlong.

Also inevitably, we get cranky emails from the former client asking why the hell we can’t just forward the funds to them as a courtesy instead. Gee, I dunno. Why can’t we accept payments we are unable to apply, to invoices that no longer exist on our books, and subsequently wire those payments to a third party that no longer has a legal relationship with us? I’ll give you a hint. It starts with “money” and ends with “laundering.”

I am not a basketball guy ordinarily but I screamed watching this. UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE play. UNREAL

First thing I checked when my alarm went off this morning and 🥲🥲🥲

As a music lover who is known to stand front and center at rock concerts without earplugs (don’t yell at me I’ve gotten much better at being responsible lately!!!), communicating the suffering associated with this condition is impossible. “But you subject yourself to such loud noises willingly and regularly!” Yeah, I know. I suspect that whatever part of the neurological machinery that makes me so breathtakingly sensitive, so rapturously responsive to organized sound is also responsible for my frantic and hateful aversion to random, environmental sound. The only music I find categorically repellent is death metal and bluegrass. 99% of the songs I encounter in my daily life register emotionally from Neutral-Mildly Positive to Ecstatic Joy. And then if a guy coughs on the Metro North in the wrong way, I want to scream in despair.

This is infinitely preferable to the other popular reblog tag genre I have to deal with on occasion, which is "performative bafflement at the desires of heterosexual women for a class of partner (by and large heterosexual men) that becomes statistically most dangerous to her in situations of sexual and romantic intimacy." Like, put your thinking caps on, dipshits. Misogyny is unbecoming.

Mom is visiting the New York Historical Society and sent me these.