And so, 2011 comes to an end. And you know what that means. Yes, the Twilight Zone Marathon. It starts at 9:00 AM on the channel formerly known as Sci-Fi, and while its acquisition by NBC/Universal is gradually turning the channel to shit (wrestling on Friday nights? Really? WTF?) and they have cancelled some of its best shows (SGU, Caprica, Eureka, and now Warehouse 13? Again, WTF?), at least they continue TZ Marathon tradition. For now. Vernon sent me a link to an excerpt of a now completed manuscript by Rod Serling’s daughter Anne, which is more than worth a read, if you’re interested. Thanks for that, Vernon.
I’m sure I don’t need to mention (but will anyway) that Rod was born in Syracuse on Christmas Day in 1924, grew up in Binghamton (going to the same high school as FK’s mom), died in Rochester, and is buried not too far from me in Interlaken (about an hour away. It’d be a lot faster if they’d build bridges across those pesky Finger Lakes. Especially Cayuga, which is where Cayuga Productions got its name). In fact, Carl Sagan (who is not from Syracuse, but did teach at Cornell and was a patient of my sister’s once when he was in the hospital for which I work) is buried in the same cemetery. So maybe I’ll make another pilgrimage this year.
Speaking of dead people, I used to do the roll call of death on New Years, but it was a pain in the ass because so goddamn many people kept dying every year. Not that it was their idea, of course. Hitchens, Frazier, Rooney, Morgan, Taylor, Winehouse, Davis, Cooper, Clemons, Robertson, Ford, Falk, Kevorkian…. Just too many to name. And more people will die today, even. Like, 152,000, give or take. How’re supposed to keep up with that?
It’s not all fun and games today, though. My older dog, Siggy, has had a “thing” on his face for a while now. A long while, I’m ashamed to admit. It started out looking like a pimple or an ingrown hair or something. It would get bigger, then smaller, bigger, smaller, etc, and so I had hopes that it would just go away. Then he tore it open . And it looked nasty, but then it would look like it would heal over, at which point he’d tear it open again. We tried spritzing it with peroxide, which seemed to help. Until he’d tear it open again. And we tried spritzing it with colloidal silver, which seemed to work, until he’d tear it open again. And I tried putting a donut thing around his neck, which I thought would keep him from tearing it open. But it didn’t. So, sadly, it’s time for the vet.
I really should have taken him sooner, of course. But he’s really not a very good patient, and I am what’s known as a “baby” and can’t stand to see (and hear) him suffer. I contend that my wife should be the one to take him, because while I have no doubt that she loves him as much as I do, she isn’t as emotionally invested in him as I am. She’s a nurse, and has been trained to ignore (if not somewhat relish) the suffering of others. Plus, as I said, I’m a baby.
I’ll be glad when this is over, that much is certain.
So, anyhow, enjoy the day and stay off the roads tonight. There’s sure to be a lot of drunk Republicans out there, and you don’t want one to run you over. No need to be casualty number 1 of 2012. Hell, we’re all gonna die next December anyway.