Hi! Hello! You might remember me from such blog entries as "Boy, I hate people with cell phones" and "Wow, the Melvins are cool." Well, I'm back for a few seconds. Yes, folks, I am alive and well and tanned like a leather wristband in middle-school shop class.

What have I been up to?

Well, I've finally discovered Curb Your Enthusiasm. I was at Borders last weekend and, on a whim, bought the complete first season, knowing that the second-season set was on its way (it became mine last night after overtures and currency exchange). My God, what a phenomenal fucking show! Laugh if you must, but I'd never seen it! Heard plenty from coworkers over the last three-four years, but I finally checked it out. FOR MYSELF. That's right. It's all about MY enjoyment. The rest of you can fuck right off, because only I understand the accidental, nuanced genius of this series. I love how Larry David starts with a basic problem, then it's accelerated through logical circumstances (paired with general L.A. wishy-washiness), and then there are these tiny little subplots and side journeys, and then it all explodes at the end. When Larry and Richard were fistfighting in front of the jewelry store, I was on the floor and out the window. I can't wait to watch Season 2. Then maybe I'll get cable. But probably not.

My own Larry Davidism: It gets on my nerves when you're standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, and another pedestrian joins you at the corner and punches the button for the "walk" signal. Look: I'm a fully functioning adult. I'm a high school graduate. I'm a competent professional. Did it ever occur to you that MAAAAAAYBE I pressed the little button before you arrived? Have you designated yourself corner captain? Are you trying to assert your superiority? Or do you not feel like a complete person until you feel you've contributed to our wait, even though your stupid little move was totally superfluous? Or when I get to the corner, press the button, the someone whisks in behind me within ten seconds, and does the same thing. Now, obviously this person has seen me press the button, but it's not enough. I apparently lack sufficient pull with this signal, but the "walk" button knows his touch and will respond accordingly. In these situations, I press the button again with a firm finality: OK, jackass, now it's official.

And THEN, not only does this person press the little button, he (or she) jiggles it several times, like he's (or she's) trying to dupe the system--that somewhere in Traffic Control Central someone's going, "HOLY SHIT! THERE ARE 72 PEOPLE STANDING AT THE CORNER OF VERDUGO AND HOLLYWOOD WAY! MAKE THAT FUCKING LIGHT YELLOW, OR YOU'RE FIRED!" If that's the case, why not just have an intercom system that patches you directly: "Yeah, ummm...I really gotta take a piss, and the 7-Eleven's across the street. I can't stress how urgent this is, but could you please change the signal now? I'll send you a check."

In other news, Ronald Reagan is gone. The first President I ever truly "knew" (I vaguely remember Carter, Ford not at all). I still have mixed feelings about his passing; People're lionizing him a bit too much, but I'm certainly not dancing on his grave. To a kid growing up in the '80s (unlike my older friends), Ronald Reagan seemed almost a benign, grandfatherly type; he kinda looked like a Lions Club treasurer--or a Buick salesman--from the late 1960s who happened to make high office, in his shoeblack hair. You almost expected him to produce a quarter from a pocket and tell you to go buy some candy. As I got older I began to despise him--especially during the Iran-Contra hearings, which somehow made a hero out of that stone crooked fuck Oliver North--but I don't HATE him. Goodbye, Ron: Off to that great Hellcats Of The Navy set in the sky. If you come back for a spectral visit, please kick our current President off a cliff or at the very least pants him on television.

Tomorrow: a dissertation on The Music Snob...plus, my thoughts on the new Stepford Wives.