Tag Archives: Hollywood

La La Land June Gloom The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

10 Jun

An Excerpt from the humor book The Misery Manifesto

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorow?

In the United States, as in most of the sad world, you have weather. You have a variety of weather patterns and temperature changes, as well as four seasons. This isn’t the case in coastal Southern California. As you know, we’re special.

In Los Angeles, we have consistently perfect weather — sunny with temperatures in the seventies. It’s a truly reasonable climate that only the most miserable among us (usually transplanted New Yorkers) find unacceptable. These are the cranks who complain about unending sunshine and clear skies as if it’s a bad thing. “I miss the seasons,” they whine.

However, even for the easy to please, there is an ugly shoofly in The Endless Summer of SoCal . . . and that is the infamous “June Gloom.”

The Endless Summer

JUNE GLOOM

According to Wikipedia (who else?), June Gloom is “a weather pattern that results in cloudy, overcast skies with cool temperatures during the late spring and early summer, most commonly in the month of June.” (This is why it’s not called February Gloom.)

“Low-altitude stratus clouds are formed over the ocean, then transported over the coastal regions by the wind.”

Translation: June Gloom is a month-long period of fog and drizzle up the yahoo where you feel like an abuse victim in a never-ending Bergman movie. I call it “50 Shades of L.A. Gray.”

June Gloom should be a bona fide mental disorder ordained by the American Psychiatric Association. It’s Los Angeles’s version of a seasonal affective disorder.

[…]

And The Booby Prize Goes To…

16 Jan

 

Booby Prize

has nothing to do with boobs of the female breast persuasion.

 

And The Booby Prize Goes To...

Boing! Boing! Boing!

 

According to The New Oxford American Dictionary (non-Braille edition),

booby prize

is “a prize given as a joke to the last-place finisher in a race or competition.”

It’s awards season in Hollywood.

It’s time for all the boobs to come out.

[…]

Pop Culture? Poppycock!

14 May

I feel your pain.  Do you feel mine? I bet you do. Yes, I refer to that niggling noggin splitting pain, that bone gnawing anguish, that teeming existential angst we experience whenever we face The Ugly Truth.

You know what I speak of, for like my humble self, you too are a highly discerning individual. Intellectually aware, artistically appreciative, cultivated, indubitably enlightened to a “T.”

Kindred souls you and I, we folks of gentle nature, we who cringe at double negatives and dangling participles as if they were sidewalk spitting or public urination. (They might as well be, you say!) We, who are dumbstruck by blatant ignorance as if it were a whack to the side of the skull by a cricket bat; we who recoil as garish tattoos and vile body piercings mar the landscape like graffiti violates a beautiful city’s grand architecture. […]