St. Augustine in mid-January is worth the effort. Christmas lights still up everywhere, and the tourists have fled! I stayed at St. George Inn, an eccentric collection of buildings in the heart of the historical colonial area of downtown, literally across the street from Castillo San Marcos. (cont)

I wonder if Hudson knows all the gay boys prefer Connor?

Who goes to a fancy restaurant and chooses the vegetarian option?! Just stay at home, eat a can of beans, and save yourself $150, nerd.

Scott Adams’s death was not a peaceful one, and he suffered a long time before he succumbed to cancer which had paralyzed him below the waist. I thought “Dilbert” was a funny cartoon strip. I should be sad, but instead I feel only ambivalence, because his politics were so ugly to me. Ugh.

Hoteliers/B&B Owners, I’ll tell you a secret: No matter how delightful your amenities, how clean the rooms, how friendly the staff, how ideal the location, if your WiFi is unreliable, your current guests will stay somewhere else, next time.

At the risk of repetition: Ultimately there’s no meaningful difference between can’t read, didn’t read, and won’t read.

To quote Luke Skywalker: “No one’s ever really gone.” The Permanent Members of the Adventurers Club are coming out of mothballs for the 2026 Cast Service Celebration.

Get a load of this sweet ride! Cast member parking lot. Ford Fairlane.

Oklahoma is now the lightning strike capital of the country, followed by Florida. Where are all the denunciations of right-wing politics from the pulpit? Surely this is God’s wrath!

It occurs to me that WDW is in the process of building an equivalent number of attractions to all of Epic Universe; will the fact that the new offerings are spread among the existing Disney parks lessen, or enhance, their PR impact? Whatever happens, UO is still an also-ran in attendance.

Current view.

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Waiting to give blood for testing. In my head I see Baron Munchausen, lying prostrate backstage in a bombed-out theater, whispering, “no…doctors…” Sadly, there is no GIF I can find of this moment in Terry Gilliam’s film, so here’s another.

Look at the moon!

Employers: if someone applies for a job, and you notice that their phone screen is cracked, don’t hire them.

This 73 year old cartoon by Yuliy Ganf called "At This Restaurant Only One Person Is Served," is as true today as it ever was.

After feeling a smug thrill watching Mamdani take office, I now understand the glee of many Trump voters, in spite of all the President’s venal buffoonery: I don’t care if Mamdani succeeds, I just want him to scare the shit out of a complacent, fat-cat Establishment. Get the popcorn!

One of my final purchases in 2025 was this delightful T-shirt from the Indian restaurant, eet, at Disney Springs. The back reads “eet•Drink•Dance”. I quite like this. I should have more T-shirts that express silliness and joy; my snarky atheist tees are threadbare.

A lot of people got the Meta Ray Ban internet glasses for Christmas, it seems. As a theme park actor in an intimate venue, I now declare: I find them less distracting and intrusive than a phone’s camera held towards my face. The tiny camera light on the glasses is less annoying, too.

This used to be the Crossroads shopping and dining complex; soon, it will be a glorious interchange off I-4, which will prevent me from risking my life every day going to work, when I turn left into a Yield sign ignored by traffic coming the other way. It can’t come soon enough.

I am finding Dave Chappelle’s persona more than a little disingenuous these days. His latest Netflix special is largely a report of his lucrative gig in Saudi Arabia ($6 million?), during which he opines “it’s easier to talk” there; he means “easier to criticize Israel” there. I’m sure it was.

All is quiet now, but tomorrow, at the Orlando Premium Outlets mall, next to where I live, not only will this lot be full, and the parking garage beyond it, but cars will be parked up on the curbs, making impassible the now-deserted sidewalks. Trafficmageddon.

a very happy Falling Angel/Rising Ape day to you all for my money the single best passage in all of Discworld, and one of the finest passages in the history of literature

Observing the Jewish tradition this year.

“Bad writing is bad for children, and the Harry Potter books (even if I am in a minority of one on this) are cliché-heavy period pieces, and will end in dustbins.” - Harold Bloom, GENIUS: A MOSAIC OF ONE HUNDRED EXEMPLARY MINDS

Though I am a fan of Connie Willis, her short story anthology THE WINDS OF MARBLE ARCH is not worth your time. A few stories are just humorous enough to be readable, but most of the items are a tedious slog, during which nothing happens very slowly. Skip it.

While perambulating around the Epcot resorts, I saw a woman run up to a trash can, then squeal in surprise, and retreat just as quickly, laughing. There was a raccoon in the can, looking rather indignantly at us.

“Actors of the jockeys of literature. Others supply the horses, the plays, and we simply make them run.” - Ralph Richardson, in an interview on the acting profession

Current view.

Another Saturday night shambling around my apartment, in shabby pajamas, like a penniless Russian aristocrat.

It is not the man who has too little, but who craves more, who is poor. Seneca

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions. Shakespeare

Once again, my local sushi place seems to be trying very hard indeed to impress me. I’m not mad at it.

Ford is discontinuing the electric F150, but long live the Mustang Mach-E! I want one so badly I lose sleep fantasizing about it.

I’ll tell you a secret: If you had not told Facebook your birthday, none of your “friends” would’ve remembered it.

Didn't think I could be more crushed by anything vicarious this weekend than Ethan Hawke reading this speech from Stoppard's The Coast of Utopia. But the murder of the Reiners definitely proved everything wrong. www.instagram.com/reel/DRp03CX...

Just got recognized at a resort quick service restaurant as an alumnus of the Comedy Warehouse. I guess not all of the work vanishes completely.

It seems an eerie time to be alive, as if Americans are blithely going about their business, oblivious to a coming civil, and economic, collapse. Like the beginning of a zombie apocalypse movie. Like Roman children playing in the street, while Nero plays his violin.

On a whim, I decided to do a mall walk and catch some Pokémon. One advantage of having a bourgeois mall in town, is that I found a store that can repair my leaky old Mont Blanc fountain pen!

ZOOTOPIA 2 is a fun watch, and the constant stream of nonverbal, pop-culture references and sight gags amused me greatly. There is a post-credits scene.

I made The mistake of rewatching “Mad Men,” and now all I want to do is drink, smoke, and condescend to women.

Current view.

Current view.

Current view.

Here for the snacks!

Thinking about Stoppard. In college I played Guildenstern in R&G ARE DEAD, one of the longest roles I ever memorized in my life. The director, Philip Anglim (THE ELEPHANT MAN on Broadway) encouraged me, but it was Stoppard’s text that sang. My first brush with existentialism, which is now my creed.

Judging by the smell on my patio tonight, I am surrounded by potheads.

If the foreign Disney parks can get a movie-accurate-proportioned robot Olaf, capable of independent movement and speech, then they must at once begin work on a flying robot Figment for Epcot. Now honey, THAT would sell tickets.

I’m not a gambler, but I am forced to bet whether the work potluck will be worth not packing my own lunch today. Spin the wheel, and hope it doesn’t land on dry turkey and potato chips.

Almighty Nothing, Thank you for this bounty of whatever our economic overlords have seen fit to place upon our table or center console or whatever today. We are grateful that each mouthful has brought shareholder value to someone, and look forward to shitting it into the void. Eat arbys, amen.