Dr. Who has been on TV in the UK for, oh, nearly 50 years, but it’s only recently gained popularity in the US. I watched a few episodes over the years, maybe beginning 15 years ago, but since I’m not a big SciFi geek I didn’t get hooked. Lately, however, partly due to my ALL TIME HERO, Craig Ferguson, (who watched and was terrified by Dr. Who as a child in Scotland) who has featured on his Late, Late Show many of the current performers from Dr. Who, and who keeps a small TARDIS (I want one!) on his desk, I’ve gotten more interested in the program. I lined up a few episodes last year in Netflix and John and I watched them. John is a burgeoning addict for just about everything TV- or drama-related, and after two episodes he was clamoring for more, so we’ve been getting caught up with the latest two seasons.
Over the years, the actor playing the role has changed 11 times, which makes sense, given the length of the series, but in the plot he’s a Time Lord who travels through time and space in his TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space), and he has the ability to regenerate, resulting in a new appearance every so often. The current Dr., Matt Smith, has won a couple of awards, one being a BAFTA, but I think I prefer his predecessor, David Tennant. Those are the only two Drs. we’ve watched.
Now that you’ve slogged through all that dreck, you don’t need to watch the show, but here they are in all their glory, all 11 of them:
Bottom row center: David Tennant, right: Matt Smith
I’ll be putting butter in my coffee from now on. Well, starting tomorrow, probably, after I’ve had a chance to pick up some Irish unsalted butter from grass-fed cows.
I was tepid toward Brian Williams, until he appeared on a couple of episodes of 30 Rock, where he vamped and japed marvelously, totally out of character as I had perceived him previously. It was such a stretch for him, I think, and it seemed he really enjoyed the break from being a staid news reporter. It was very endearing. In one skit he attempted his best Brooklynese “Fugheddabouddit!” that was just a bit off enough to be hilarious.
I don’t know Tate’s cookies! I don’t think I’ve ever seen them, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled (always hated that expression) for them. Sounds like they’re your Oreos, although I’ll probably never be able to eat an Oreo again, now that I’m so Paleo. (The butter in the coffee.) (No, I’m not going to Ireland today: they sell it in the market across Broadway.) They might have Tate’s there. They’re one of two gourmet-ish supermarkets in the nabe.
Good luck to you with The Dick, as I ended up calling it. Let me know when you get to the part where he goes on about the thickness of the fat layers in various parts of a whale. Oh, you’ll know you’ve gotten there: it goes on for 385 pages. Seriously, I ended up enjoying it and was glad I finally read it, but Oy-can-I-say-Vey, Melville does go on about the minutiae of whale anatomy!
You’ve mentioned Louis CK before, but I keep forgetting to seek him out. In another instance of the synchronicitous mention of a TV show, my niece just ‘Liked’ his page on Facebook, so I guess I’ll have to be better about seeking him out. I did see him as a guest on something a while ago, so at least I know who he is.
And speaking of the TARDIS, sold in various versions by ThinkGeek, I ordered myself a couple of t-shirts from them that were supposed to be delivered on Tuesday and the tracking says they were, but I never got them. I sent an inquiry off to Customer Service at TG, but haven’t heard back from them yet. I’ll bet some neighborhood geek is enjoying my T’s! This has never happened to me before: an item allegedly delivered that I didn’t get, so I’m a little bummed out and don’t know how it will be resolved.
The TARDIS; it’s bigger on the inside.
Oh, and yes: The newsletter, from my perspective, is ready for the proofers except for one small glitch. One of the contributors, not a regular contributor to the newsletter, wrote an 1100-word piece, although his max was 600 words. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was never told that, but the point is his piece came in and the editor trimmed it to 700 words, which I’ve managed to squeeze into place, but yesterday, after three days of silence, the stupid guy resurfaced and offered to make his own cuts to the article, so we’re waiting for that, at which point I’ll have to refit it, but it shouldn’t be a real problem. That article, and a final approval on two ads that I created, are the only things outstanding, and given that today is the deadline, we’re in good shape. I get to make final adjustments over the weekend, send an initial proof copy to the editor early next week, she’ll return her corrections and then I send out three copies to the proofreaders. They, in turn, will return their corrections to the editor by the end of the week, and she will give them to me so I can incorporate them and have the final galleys ready for the print shop on Monday or Tuesday of the following week.
It’s kind of like watching an enormous pimple building up on your neck, knowing that you have to wait for the right time to pop it, but when that time comes and you do pop it, you feel enormous relief, and the afterglow of the popping is a kind of peaceful elation.
(That might not have been the most pleasant analogy I could come up with, but having toyed with constipation I figured it was the better choice.)
Remember: It is To Laugh
In the end, everything is a gag.
— Charlie Chaplin