This is the song. I never remembered anything about the movie except for this song, because I thought it was so cool.

Anyway, years later I was in the Calgary Philharmonic Chorus (basically the companion choir to the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra) and we were pairing with Alberta Ballet to do Carl Orff's Carmina Burana. This was in the late 90s or something.

Now if you've ever heard Carmina Burana, you know it starts and ends with the same song, O Fortuna. You've definitely heard it. They used it in a bazillion movie trailers.

Now, I didn't think about Young Sherlock Holmes when I was doing O Fortuna. I never thought about Young Sherlock Holmes. And it wasn't like I could fire up the internet and be like, hey, uh, this song is definitely a Jimmy Hart version of O Fortuna. But it totally is.

If you aren't familiar with the term Jimmy Hart version, it's the former trope name on TV Tropes of what is now termed Suspiciously Similar Song, names after pro wrestling manager and entrance theme composer Jimmy Hart, who (during his time at World Championship Wrestling) wrote pro wrestling theme songs which were basically Nirvana and Pearl Jam songs with the chords in a slightly different order.

I wanted to have an album cover, so I found a picture of me when I was a baby and scanned it into my computer, slapped some filters on it (probably in Paint Shop Pro, which I had pirated. This computer had 1.25 GBs of hard drive and like 8 megabytes of RAM so I probably wouldn't have been able to pirate Photoshop yet) and printed them out on my ink jet printer.

My name is Nathaniel, but back in those days I mostly went by Nat (until I realized pretty much everyone would call me Nate and, honestly, that's not my name) so I called the "album" Eine Kleine Natmusik. Aha ha ha.

Now, as obviously droll as that was, I felt it needed a subtitle so I put my "composer dates" and used the subtitle: Selections from the early period of 22nd century composer [My Full Legal Name]

For the dates, I used: 1977-2112, assuming with the unearned confidence of youth that I would live well into my one hundred and thirties.

In Saints Row IV, you are able to romance a certain number of your homies (sadly, Keith David will never love you).

It's mostly a parody of Mass Effect's romance system, and it's available at the touch of a button. Press the button, get a short cutscene. The cutscenes range from funny like Kinzie and Matt, to almost sweet and heartfelt (Johnny and Shaundi), to outright bizarre (CiD).

No.

But not the fun kind of drag, where you wear high heels and lip sync to a Dua Lipa song.

Not because I'm trying to save it for a rainy day or anything, but because I don't ever have a lot of it to spend.

And credit cards are great and all, but it's amazing how little time it takes for it to get away from you.

And truth be told, I don't deserve a little treat. Not really. I offer nothing to the world these days.

I deserve a little treat, I think to myself. But everything costs so much, so I decide against it.

It doesn't matter. My credit card goes up anyway. Wages have been stagnant for years, most likely for all of us.

To be fair, I ask nothing of the world either, which I consider some sort of preventive. It isn't like the world would give me anything, even if I asked.

Sometimes I go on Tumblr. Reblog some posts, like some that I don't want to share. Do some light moderating in the communities I moderate in.

Most times I sit on my couch, listening to music or a podcast or, increasingly lately, an audiobook. And playing the world's least interesting phone game until my battery runs out. After that, I switch to my old phone and do the same.

Sometimes I get up and throw a chicken cutlet in the air-fryer. They're very cost effective, these chicken cutlets. You get nine of them for $8.99. Not a lot of air-fryer-friendly foods that affordable these days.

And they're not bad tasting. 6/10 on my personal scale. Not a lot ever goes above a seven, to be fair. Jane's chicken strips are a solid 2. And, given that they're almost $20 a box these days, that pushes them down to a one.

I like putting things on a rating scale. It feels right. It's probably the autism.

Navel oranges are a 4/10. Mandarin oranges a solid six. Bananas range from 7-8, depending. Sometimes I add a spray of Cool Whip and make them a 9. Not often tho.

My boss is a 5/10. He's good at some parts of his job and he often respects my scheduling requests, but he does call me Nitalian instead of Nathaniel and has somewhat questionable views regarding food safety and shelf life.

Aziraphale aka Zira is a 7/10 cat. She's very cute and hilariously weird, but she does attack my feet at night and want into the garage basically all the time.

Terry is also a 7/10 cat. He's very cute and loving and sometimes even chill, but he does claw the shit out of my back every time I go to pick him up, which is something he always wants.

Crowley is an 8/10 cat. She's cute and fat and meows all the time. She also steals my socks, which I approve of, and occasionally shits in the basement, which I do not.

My wife (you'll never pry that rating out of me) is away, visiting family as she occasionally does, leaving me alone to my own devices. This mostly means two tablets, three phones, and a PS5, but I hardly ever use the PS5 and I basically never use the one tablet.

Sometimes it seems that she worries that I have some kind of secret party lifestyle when she goes out of town, but I'm not a complicated person. I do exactly the same things I would do if she were here, just with more background audio and less conversation.