This blog covers everything except sports and gardening, unless we find a really good link about using dead professional bowlers for mulch. The author is a StarTribune columnist, has been passing off fiction and hyperbole as insight since 1997, has run his own website since the Jurassic era of AOL, and was online when today’s college sophomores were a year away from being born. So get off his lawn.
. . . Or are you glad to see me? You know how it goes - you’re reading a 108-year-old trade journal for druggists, and you run across an interesting story from Minneapolis in the early days of the previous century.
The amount of stuff buried in the Google archives is amazing - and largely unread, I’d guess. Probably for a reason.
TV Oh, great. This stuff again.
Based on the best-selling novel Pines by Blake Crouch, Wayward Pines is an intense, mind-bending thriller evocative of the classic cult hit Twin Peaks. Secret Service agent Ethan Burke arrives in the bucolic town of Wayward Pines, ID, on a mission to find two missing federal agents. But instead of answers, Ethan’s investigation only turns up more questions.
It’s a miniseries with a guaranteed 10-12 parts, so they won’t cancel it after four episodes like all the network shows with high-concept arcs, but they won’t finish the mystery in the first season. If ever. Also, it’s by M. Night Shyamalan, which may mean the town is (SPOILERS) being menaced by angry shrubbery.
FOLLOW-UP Icelandair is a wonderful airline: the food’s great and the music selection will make you ditch your iPod. When you land, you're in Iceland, which is only six hours away from here. Just don't hit the Reyka and start screaming. Or:
Possibly the only justifiable use of Vertical Video Syndrome.