In The Zone

New Year's Day has taken on a special meaning for me in the last decade or so. At least two channels, SyFy and H & I, run Twilight Zone marathons. I catch up on as much as I can.

I almost hate to talk about specifics, though. If you've seen the great episodes you already get them. But if you haven't, I'll won't spoil them for you. That just wouldn't be right. So I'll drop names and offer show titles, and you'll either shake your head knowingly or, maybe, look for that episode. I'll just keep things vague.

Billy Mumy could act as a kid, couldn't he? He was in three great episodes. He and Jack Klugman starred in In Praise of Pip. That one tugged at the heartstrings.

Donald Pleasance, something of a hero among ham actors, is solid in The Changing of the Guard. It has A Christmas Carol vibe working for it.

Charles Bronson and Elizabeth Montgomery absolutely nail their roles in Two.

You gotta see The Hunt. It's a lesser known episode, but man, it leaves a lump in your throat. Trust your dog, friends. They know.

I could go on and on, and I know I'm excluding a lot, but you get the point. New Years Day is Twilight Zone time anymore. That's what makes the day for me.

But I do hope that 2026 itself isn't a kind of Twilight Zone, though. 

Lawyerball

I've been good. I haven't went on any kind of anti-football rant for a long time now. But I gotta tell you, fans, y'all ought to change the name of that game to Lawyerball.

I haven't watched much football in recent years. Indeed I'm slowly growing sour on sports in general, yet that is a rant for another day. Don't fret over it, valued readers. You'll be delivered that fascinating screed soon enough.

The past week I've fought a nasty cold, and consequently have spent a lot of time in bed. As such, with it being bowl season and all, I've drifted into several college and professional football games on TV. Lord knows there's enough of them.

It seems to me that the guys in the stripes, and in the replay booth, and at the various home offices of the various leagues, sure make a helluva lot of decisions about what actually happens in the matches.

There's often an insane amount of discussion about whatever just occurred right in front of everyone's faces and by millions through TV and streaming. Is it a catch? The refs have to figure that out. Was that a penalty? The officials have to conference over it. Did the player fumble? Did he break the plane of the goal? Was he outside the tackle box? Was the player's knee, or elbow, or some other common part of the human anatomy, on the ground before the ball became loose? All this requires analysis, emphasis on...the first two syllables, with an important change of inflection. Then there's my very favorite inquiry of all: Did the player make a football move?

Did he make a football move? What kind of a question is that? He's a football player on a football field running a football play in a football game. By definition every move every player makes during the course of the action is a football move. What is a football move? What is not a football move?

One of the reasons I like baseball better than football is that we know what a catch is without explanation. Safe or out? It's one or the other regardless of what of any umpires caucus may assert. If football officials have to tell me what I just saw, I'd rather watch The Twilight Zone. At least Rod Serling admits he's playing mind games.

Thursday rambling. Or rumbling? Grumbling?

The guy throwing vice for me on Mondays pointed out as curling started this week that the last time we curled together, he had a heart attack. Literally. An actual heart attack! Then my play that night nearly gave him another. Keep your nitro pills close at hand Jim.

They're calling for a 100% chance of this rain this coming Halloween in Detroit. Really? All this relatively nice weather we've had this October and we're talking almost certain rain on Halloween? And a half inch at that. That's just not fair, rain gods. Or fair weather gods, or whomever we're expected to blame for this travesty. And it's supposed to be warm and sunny from next Sunday through Thursday too; beautiful weather for November. I can appreciate irony, but this is simply wrong.

I'm looking forward to falling back this weekend though. I know that it means night will fall earlier, but I'd rather have the daylight in the morning anyway. The extra hour of sleep isn't so bad on the nerves either. It's more time to lament the water logged Halloween as well.

Have I mentioned that I'm not happy with the Halloween weather forecast? Well, I'm not. It'll make my Heath Ledger Joker makeup run.

For years I hadn't watched much prime time TV. Now I find myself being sucked back into that vortex. To be sure, I have tuned into NCIS almost religiously for years now, but as my interest in sports wanes I find that regular television can fill the void nicely. Or should I drop this new devil for the devil that I know? After all, there are no time clocks, time outs, and poor officiating to be found in the Middle. Although the writing for that show has fallen off so far this season.

Still, I liked Brick's Halloween costume on last night's episode. He was the Rod Serling from Night Gallery, not Twilight Zone. Anybody should have seen that. Nice comic turn, I thought. And it didn't rain in Orson, Indiana on Halloween either.

Have I made clear my disgust with the likelihood of a rainy Detroit Halloween? Then my work here is done.

Until next time, folks...