The Portent of Point of Origin

This is a commercial for Anaheim my sister appears in;



She's the blonde with the parasol and at one point you see her talking to a guy while holding a red drink in her hand. She appears at several other points. Anyone seduced into going to Anaheim by this video, I'm sorry to tear down the veil, but sister actually lives in San Diego.

I'm really tired to-day, I guess because I forced myself to get up early. I really had to drag myself through pencilling and inking to-day's page, but I know I'm not going to have any breathing room with this chapter since I have a dentist appointment to-morrow and a cousin's wedding to go to this weekend.

I've had a couple people actually insinuate to me over the past couple months that I ought to be married with children by now. It surprises me that there's even still a shade of a stigma. I guess I'd be a spinster if I were a woman. I'm never going to get a decent dowry.

I've yet to detect any kind of biological clock. Children remain as unappealing to me as ever. I didn't even like kids when I was a kid. I was into girls when I was a kid, even before puberty. I used to really be into mermaids, which is why I watched Splash over and over. Daryl Hannah's ass and nipple silhouette made me a man by the tender age of seven, I'd insist.

It's interesting to me discovering which of my childhood obsessions still hold up for me as an adult. So far, Star Wars and Ghostbusters have fared the best, with maybe Ducktales being third. The animation was top notch in Ducktales, particularly for 1980s American animation. It completely blows Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles out of the water, with it's absolutely wretched animation and writing. Yet both somehow held equal places in my childhood heart.

I'm most frustrated by Willow. I loved Willow when I was a kid. I still think it's James Horner's best soundtrack. But I can barely get fifteen minutes into the movie without wanting to throw a brick at the screen. It's so braindead.

When I was hating A Beautiful Mind, and Ron Howard's other vapid cinematic efforts of the past decade, I was all the time thinking to myself, "Boy, but the guy did make a couple good movies back in the 80s with Splash and Willow." Turns out, maybe not. Willow's looking like that modern knucklehead I know, and Splash . . . I watched part of it last night, and it holds up better than Willow. John Candy's and Eugene Levy's comic timing help a lot, and Daryl Hannah is amazing despite her tragically crimped hair, stapled to her naked back in one scene. I think the best scene in the move is Hannah in the sunken ship looking at an old map of New York. You can't tell her hair is so unfortunately styled, and Hannah really works the scene, which must have been tremendously difficult. Still, it mainly just makes me pine for the mermaid movie that's never been made.

The basic premise and comedy business at the beginning of the movie don't sit well with me. Tom Hanks as the guy who can't commit until he finds a beautiful naive woman who wants to have sex all the time really doesn't impress me too much.