556 days later

I went into the office for the first time since March 16, 2020.  I know this to be true, because the desk calendar of daily dad jokes that I have, that’s the last date that was shown, and my my morning routine typically consisted of setting my coffee down, tearing away the prior day’s dad joke, turning it into a paper ninja star, and putting it into the spindle lid, as shown above.

The thing is, I left on the 16th with no intention of returning to the office for a while, because it was not long after the birth of #1, and I was going to flex some work from home in order to best be available as brand new parents.  Sure, I had an inkling of the news rapidly spreading around the world about how coronavirus was ravaging China, and initially finding their way stateside, but little did myself or anyone else really know or understand that the office was on the verge of indefinite closure on this particular day.

By the end of the week, the building was vastly shut down on account of the rapid spread of coronavirus throughout the country, and businesses and offices all across the world were doing the same thing.  In between learning how to be a dad for the first time, and trying to keep up with the new rhythm of the work day, I had to sign off and fill in numerous requisition forms for my reports to be taking their physical iMacs home with them, so that they could embark on the new world of working from home.

Frankly, this is no new story for just about anyone with an office job, and I’m stopping myself from reminiscing too much, because I’m trying to remind myself that I’ve got many other retroactive topics I want to brog about and a very finite amount of time in which I can do such.

Regardless, the plant pictured to the right, now that was one of the few things that actually worried about, at the office, when the world shut down.  It was but just a small succulent that was given to all employees at the door in promotion to spread awareness of the arrival of spring, and seeing as how I have a window cube, it was quite easy for me to put it on the sill, and see how long it would take before I would invariably end up neglecting it and it dying.

But succulents are some tough motherfuckers, and it persisted all through occasional watering droughts, time off, my wedding and honeymoon, and not only survived, but thrived.  What started out as a little nugget of a plant branched out into these lengthy, snakey vines, and to where I eventually put a little bit of effort into its general growth and development, like the tape-rubberband combo to help it stretch out and sun.

However, as pandemics do, 500+ days is too much to ask of any plant, and when I popped into the office for the first time in 556 days, the anticipation of what I’d see from my little succulent was answered, in a reddish, dead husk of a succulent, almost frozen in time, by virtue of never being molested at all during that stretch.

And with my biggest curiosity answered, I finished up doing what I came to the office for in the first place: removing all of my personal effects in an attempt to low-key clean out my desk, because I have no intention of ever coming back to this office again in my life, if things go my way.

But as many of my peers and co-workers have said to me, it was as they described – it was almost as if the entire floor were frozen in time, as if the calendar never moved on from March 16, 2020.  Calendars all around the floor were still in March, name plates of numerous people who have moved out or moved on are still in place, and lord only knows what’s living in the break room fridge at this point, but it was an interesting field trip all the same, and I’m glad that all my personal shit is out of there, but sad all the same, to see the fate of my determined little succulent friend.

Has there been a more legendary of a power move than this?

Obviously, there are probably several comparable examples floating out there in the world, but I’m a dad with an extremely small world these days, so bear with me here.

But I recently saw that Katey Segal has apparently showed up in the ashes of what used to be Roseanne and is now The Connors, seemingly as the love interest of Dan Connor, Roseanne’s widowed husband after her character died of cancellation.  But for lack of better term, Peg Bundy has shown up and completely usurped the role of Roseanne out from Roseanne herself, and I’m left here flabbergasted, wondering if there’s ever been more of a legendary power move in history?

It goes back to the 80’s when not necessarily direct rivals, but definitely there were comparisons between the two actresses, playing similar characters of no-bullshit, smart talking moms between Roseanne and Married… With Children.  To the point where it’s even acknowledge in the roast of Roseanne by Katey Segal herself, and if people didn’t put one and one together before seeing that clips, it’s easy to see the correlations between the two.

And then Roseanne had to go and get herself cancel culture’d, putting the whole reboot of the Roseanne show into a tailspin, but ABC and Disney are clever, and have the financial means to throw infinite money at a problem until it goes away, and it appears that even the social cancellation of the titular Roseanne is not insurmountable.  Killing her name from the series, and renaming it The Connors is one thing, but to more or less flip all of Roseanne’s role and probably future storylines onto Peg Bundy is pretty incredible no matter what way you look at it.

It’s kind of like whenever Ric Flair would get himself in hot water with whatever legal, drugs or one of this 13 ex-wives, and WCW would always have this sudden power vacuum in the main event.  But then they’d poach some WWF main eventer, be it Kevin Nash, Hulk Hogan, Bret Hart or whomever, and they’d instantly step in and bring a modicum of low-adapting stability to the scene and things would resume business as usual until the company imploded in 2001.

Katey Segal stepping in to fill the shoes vacated by Roseanne’s social indiscretions all but solidifies who really was the queen of the old school sitcom moms’ roost, and now not only did she dominated MWC through her original time, she’s dominating someone else’s original IP in the modern age.  If that’s not a power move on the legendary level, then I don’t know what else is. 

Squid Game: of course Korea can make the battle royale genre better

I think I only needed like 30 seconds of the trailer to determine that Squid Game was probably something that I was going to really like.  Even before the trailer reveals that the games were deadly for those who couldn’t compete, it seemed fairly obvious that such was going to be the case but all the same I was all-in for such a concept, because I was a fan of such battle royale notions like Lord of the Flies as well as Battle Royale.

The thing is, despite the fact that the general concept of Squid Game is kind of lifted from numerous predecessors, it still in my opinion, ended up being a better execution than all of them, mostly because the long-form format of being a Netflix series gave the story a tremendous amount of room to breathe, develop its characters, and tell the more comprehensive story about just how desperate people can be when facing the weight of mass economic despair in their lives, that somehow become determined to become expendable at the potential reward of sudden generational wealth.

Needless to say, the show as a whole was about as easy of a layup to love as I thought it would be.  It’s lock on the top rankings of Netflix since it’s drop date goes to show that I’m not the only one who feels as fondly to the series, but since it’s made in Korea, I can take just a little bit more ownership to it than all other non-Koreans, and everyone else can kiss my ass and continue to overanalyze and pretend to be experts on Korean dramas suddenly because they watched Squid Game.

Frankly, after watching through the series, it’s actually an unfair comp to put it in the same breath as stuff like Battle Royale.  Squid Game is far more nefarious and thought-provoking due to the fact that all participants of the entire thing are basically voluntary, and there’s few things as jarring as the thought of people willingly putting their lives on the line for a very minute chance at winning a large pot of money.

I won’t go into too much analysis because I don’t want to give away any spoilers to zero readers, plus the imaginary weight of my writing queue is probably about as heavy as the economic hardships all 456 participants of Squid Game feel, but it really all boils down to the fact that Squid Game most definitely delivers on the massive amounts of hype and mania as people are rightfully giving it, in my opinion.

Leave it to Koreans to make a better battle royale story than all of its predecessors, and it makes me happy that shit like this continues to further the obvious narrative of just how high quality and good at telling stories and making media that Koreans are capable of.  I enjoyed the show immensely, and I look forward to what comes next from the Motherland as far as future projects are concerned.

Raymond Lee ≠ Randall Park

Kevin Can Go F*** Himself – pretty good show.  Very creative execution, surprisingly deep plot.  Annie Murphy is still a snack, even as New England white trash.  Kind of feels like a show that should be on FX and not AMC, but whatever.  Probably because it has a very Wilfred-like feel and pace, and that basically no matter what the main characters do, it ends up blowing up in their face.

But anyway, I’m not writing this to analyze the show, I wanted to talk about something that has popped up a surprisingly high number of times to people I’ve spoken with about the show.  Whenever the character Sam comes up, an alarming (to me) amount of people seem to all think that he’s played by Randall Park.  No, it’s an actor named Raymond Lee.

Yes, they’re both of Korean heritage, and there are some broad physical similarities, but the fact of the matter is that there’s like a 12-13 year age difference and all you motherfuckers who make this error are 100% arr rook same-ing them.

The world and America might think they’re progressing and making some strides when it comes to tolerance, acceptance and more respect for Asians in general, but people still can’t seem to keep their mouths shut when it comes to using better judgment and not trying to compare Asians even when they’re not 100% certain.

Maybe in the near future, Raymond Lee can basically start filling in all the roles that would’ve been meant for a younger Randall Park, kind of how like Mahershala Ali is basically picking up all of Wesley Snipes’ old roles, but until then none of these motherfuckers are the same guy and white people need to stop making assumptions about minorities rooking the same.

2 Under 2: My wife left me (#062)

Oof.  Even out of context, writing those words stings, and I hope that I’ll never have to write those specific words again.

But yes, mythical wife took #2 and went to go spend a few days with her parents, and I am at home with #1.  No, this did not stem from a fight and we’re already on the rocks after two years of marriage.  It was a call that she made on account of observing the fact that I’ve been operating at a stress level of 170 out of 100 and it’s only been getting worse over the last few weeks as the job that I’ve already lost my favor for tends to get seasonal this time of year, adding to the fuel of anxiety, frustration and negative short fuse, and that I could use a little bit of a break in from the constant screaming and very hands-on requirement of #2.

She’s not wrong at all, but the days leading up to this, I had a hard time digesting the whole plan, no matter how much I actually did need some quiet time.  No matter what anyone tells me, I can’t help feel a sense of failure or shortcoming at being a partner and father to my children, because I have been becoming increasingly short and miserable dealing with two under two, and the sheer lack of time I’ve had since the arrival of #2 to occasionally catch my breath, decompress and feel like a normal human being again.

But I really did need a break.  Pretty much since #2’s arrival, I haven’t had 30 minutes to myself where I haven’t been working, sleeping or being actively hands on as a dad, and the sheer lack of time to come back to earth has been grating at me and grating at me, every single night where I go to bed thinking about all the things I wanted to do but couldn’t do, and then it compounds each and every night.

As gross as it sounds, I’ve basically been showering once a week because I just frankly can’t find the time to do it more regularly.  Even though I know I’m getting grosser and grosser in between them, the time it takes to clean myself up seems more like a chore and a nuisance, and that I’d rather spend that 20 minutes doing absolutely anything else more self-serving than personal hygiene.

A similar sentiment exists for sleep itself, where in the past, I’d probably embark on the whole notion of revenge staying up late, where I’d sacrifice sleep for personal time because I’m so resentful that I didn’t have any time to myself that I’m going to take some in spite of the need for sleep.  Fortunately, cooler heads prevail most of the time, and I remind myself that the only ones getting hurt by me being gassed from not getting enough sleep are my wife and kids, and I opt to get sleep more often than making poor choices.

And as the days turned into weeks, my general state of being was not in a good place.  My patience deteriorated into nothingness, and just about every little thing would set me off.  #2’s frequent crying would grate at me, and I’d begun making more tasteless jokes about killing myself as a result.  All I was feeling was that every single day was wake up, work, and then clean, clean, clean baby stuff until it was time to go to sleep again, with nothing but feeding, diapers and thanklessly trying to calm a screaming baby in between everything.   And it basically began breaking me.

However, the notion that my wife has to take my fussy child away from me in order for me to not feel the like I’m burdened by responsibilities makes me feel sad, makes me feel defeated, and makes me feel overall lousy, even if it I am getting the opportunity to write in silence and stare at the wall in between the typing.  This is one of those instances where I do not feel like I have done well as a father, and it’ll probably stay with me for a while, but hopefully it will change my perspective a little bit, teach me a little more patience, and help me grow as a dad.

What’s AEW going to do with all this talent?

In spite of all the criticizing and clowning I do on AEW, I don’t hate them at all.  Quite the contrary, I support their existence, as an alternative to the WWE that I do more than my fair share of criticizing and clowning on as well.  It’s just that I don’t always understand what AEW is doing, or can’t really seem to grasp the ideas that they may or may not have in mind for the near to distant future.

Sure, CM Punk basically broke the internet on the night he emerged as All Elite, and as big of a fan of the wrestler he was during his time in WWE, he hasn’t wrestled in seven years.  Plus, the world kind of got to know him a little bit better during his time away, and I’m not going to say I full-on soured on the guy, but I am a little more skeptical about his general attitude and outlook on things, seeing as how Twitter was kind of the only thing he utilized to not completely disappear from the public eye, and few things really go well with Twitter.

And then they pair him up with Darby Allin, who is clearly on the hydra of protected AEW originals, along with MJF and Jungle Boy.  Maybe I was just raised on too much Vince-WWF, but his scrawny stature and 1998 persona don’t really do it for me, so the idea of a CM Punk and Darby Allin scrap was about as appealing to me as finding out a friend is a little more right-wing than you might have thought.

But obviously, the main topic of this post is that when the All Out revealed both the debuts of Adam Cole and Daniel Bryan Danielson, in non-wrestling capacities, no less, the first thought that popped in my head was, what the heck is AEW going to do with all this massive influx of talent? 

Going back a little further, they were all too willing to pick up Aleister Black when the WWE let him go, and this was after they had plucked Christian out of retirement, not long after bringing Rusev into the fold and renaming him Miro.  Suffice to say, AEW has been more than willing to fill their roster full of a lot of the talent liberated by the WWE, but again, my thoughts wander to wondering what they can do with all this talent, because a promotion can have all the talented creative in the world, but they’re still at the mercy of the clocks of available television time.

Continue reading “What’s AEW going to do with all this talent?”

RE: A pandemic Dragon*Con

Over the weekend, I observed over social media as people converged on Atlanta over Labor Day weekend for Dragon*Con.  Obviously, my complicated relationship with the con and cons in general notwithstanding, I’m happy for the people who still get tremendous amounts of enjoyment them, and I’m a little envious that they’re able to get to a place where they can, because I sure as shit couldn’t seem to anymore.

Regardless, I couldn’t help but observe with, for lack of a better term, fascination at the fact that it was still going on.  Last time I checked, the world is still very much in a pandemic, coronavirus is never going to go away, and even in spite of people getting vaccinated, there are still hundreds of thousands of people in the world, hidden in plain sight, that are among us, unvaccinated, uninterested in getting vaccinated, and content with being vulnerable and spreading sickness.  And contrary to the belief that all Dragon*Con-going geeks are all liberal vaxxers, there are obviously going to many among the throngs of people attending the con, who aren’t, whom might be carrying, and whom could be the ones to turn the whole thing into a giant tragic superspreader event.

Anyway, throughout the weekend, I’d see various people doing the usual spiel of posting their photos, be it of themselves in costume, drunk selfies, the usual humblebragging of I’m here you’re not, and all sorts of glimpses of what’s going on downtown.  And depending on the source would determine just how many masks were seen, or not seen, and I have a hard time wondering what I found more sad: all the people running around the convention without masks, or all the people with them, having to add them to their costumes, preferring to look a little out of place, but considerate to the health of others.

Like I’d see pictures of Starlight from The Boys wearing a mask, or Batman wearing a mask over the cowl, obscuring 100% of skin at that point, and I’m thinking, kind of weird, but at least they’re taking health rules as serious as voluntarily going to an event that draws well into the tens of thousands.

But then I’m seeing photos of people in room parties where nobody’s wearing a mask, or the usual mish-mash of humanity that all conglomerates at the Marriott or the Hilton, and my skin is crawling at the idea of so much regurgitated air being cycled among people, potentially spreading disease.

But that’s just the shit going on through my head.  Obviously, I wouldn’t have gone to the convention even if there were no pandemic, but there’s absolutely no way in hell that I would have gone, even if I were still gung-ho about conventions.  All the same, I still hope all of the friends of mine who went still had good times, and are hopefully healthy and symptom free in the weeks after the con.  If conventions drove me away without a pandemic, who knows if and when I’ll ever get back into them in the future again.