V18 N35

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Page 20 EXIT ZERO November 26, 2020
ones and showing the world I
could still hit the high notes on all
those Wings songs. Maybe one of
these days…)
I generally love the Hallmark
Channel, but the constant banner
ads and countdown to the
premiere of their next Christmas
masterpiece are super-distracting.
I imagine it’s how a squirrel
goes through its day. What was
that? Did I miss something? Shit!
What did that say? That aside,
it’s at least nice to know there’s
a landing spot for faded B-List
TV stars, aging former hunks and
one-time Supermans.
I’m working on my own
Hallmark-like script, “Christmas
in Cape May: A Love Story:
Yuletide Reunion: Nana’s Bakery:
Snow on the Beach: Lighthouse
of Love: Chapter Three: The
Beginning: Chapter One.” It’s like
a normal Hallmark movie but
with more swearing, blood and
graphic sex scenes. Tom Wopat
and Nancy McKeon are attached.
I’m not gonna lie, for a long
time I thought Tide Pods were
stupid. Now I can’t imagine my
life without them.
I do a fair amount of work
(writing, updating distribution
lists, playing solitaire) in the
publishing office at Exit Zero
Filling Station. My best friend
Tish Roussos is kind enough to
let me use her desk. She’s got
a little pillow on her chair that
cushions my sensitive bum. I just
have the heart to tell her how
much I fart on it.
Beard & Weight Watch: I’m
sitting at 229.5 this fine Sunday
morning, which I consider a gift
given I haven’t been to the gym in
three weeks (sick for two weeks
plus a week of my wife begging
me not to go because she’s afraid
I’ll get Covid but I’m starting to
think that maybe she just wants
to keep me fat because all the
girls are checking out my heinie)
and I haven’t been super-great
about my diet (still eating about
85% healthy but allowing the
occasional slice of pizza or bowl
of pasta to sneak in because I am
but human). Anyway, I’m going
back next week and still think I
can get to my goal weight of 199.5
by New Year’s Day. 2027. The
beard also had a bad week since
I had to shave it off in preparation
for an acting job I booked.
No, it’s not something you’ll
ever see (unless you’re a pharmacist-in-training),
but… and I
hope you’re sitting down… there
has been talk of the return of
Larry Crinkle. (The uninitiated
should search Youtube: Davis
Hyundai Burlington NJ.)
Why is it that when we order
out pizza I can only eat 2-3 slices
but when I cook a DiGiorno I can
easily eat the whole thing?
I’m not on Facebook much
these days, just long enough to
post about my gigs or chuck in
a joke-y reply on a friend’s post,
but what’s up with this new algorithm?
I mean, I like both Ginny
Murray and John Cooke, but I
don’t care if Ginny comments on
John’s sunset photo. As, I’m sure,
they could care less if I comment
on John’s comment on Ginny’s
sunset photo. Also? Why so
many sunset photos? There’s one
every day and I know where to
find it if I want to see it.
Two of my kids want the new
Sony Playstation 5 for Christmas.
They sell for $800-1000 on the
internet, which is significantly
more than I paid for my first car.
Though, in their defense, a PS5
probably has more resale value
than a 78 Chevette.
I could not think of a more
apt metaphor for the past
eight months than watching a
bad Eagles team play a mediocre
Brown team in the Ohio
rain and mud. Who won? Who
cares? We’re all just ants sitting
on a blue-green marble hurtling
pointlessly through space for the
equivalent of a blink of an eye
until the sweet cold blackness of
oblivion claims us for all eternity.
But I’m pulling for the Eagles.
’Til next week, don’t get
caught in The Undertow.