Mark tries. I’ll give him that. He tries to come up with a new topic each week. Usually it’s related to the newly released Cinemondo Podcast, but not always. His detour into favorite Pez dispensers while promoting Hereditary was downright weird. I still don’t get the tangent. But I still don’t get Pez. Now, if Pez was filled with delicious peanut butter/liver candy bits, I’d be on board. I don’t have that so-called impressive “opposable thumb” (whoopdee-doo), but I can open the head of Popeye or Thor or Pikachu and get those lame ass candies out like any human. Fucking Pez.
Anyway, I get a lot of grief from Burk (he thinks he’s my master, but both he and I know that Miu is the only one that calls the shots for me) about romancing my towel. What’s the big deal? Those three are chirping away, on and on, about something called a movie (yawn) - I’m not bothering them. I spend most of the time in this house. I need affection. Sure, I get it from Miu and Burk and Kathy and Mark, when they come over. But jeez, I’m talking about AFFECTION. Capece?
So ‘nuff said. Let me enjoy the love of my life - my 100% combed cotton, off-beige - I think it used to be white — towel. She loves me and I love her back. That’s what a good dog does. And they keep telling me I’m a good dog, so again, what’s the big deal. Just sit there and talk about Old Yeller or Babe or The Black Stallion, and leave me alone. I don’t do that to you guys when you’re…well, you know.
Oh, and sooner or later, they’ll ask me about genre pictures. And I’ll be honest - I prefer Buzby Berkeley musicals. Sue me. Adios dudes.