Just when I was ready to retire from blogging myself, I realized that I cannot let pass the anniversary of the birth of perhaps my single-greatest artistic influence:

Happy birthday, Mr. Welles.

My blogfather Andy, the man who inspired me to give life to this blog, has finally retired from his tireless blogging crusade at the World Wide Rant. I would like to take a moment of silence, which you are probably already doing unless you’re reading this aloud.

You will be missed, Andy.

CLINT HOWARD

A USED TOYOTA PRIUS

SIX BLUE LIGHTSABERS

THE COMPLETE FIFTH SEASON OF “I LOVE LUCY”

GORILLAS

PEOPLE THAT SUPPORT RON PAUL

A BEDAZZLER AND ASSORTED RHINESTONES

THE OWL FROM CLASH OF THE TITANS

MR. MISTER

RON PAUL

It’s been a little while since I jumped into the world of Stephen King, but Saturday’s fog inspired me to turn out the lights, fire up the jack o’lantern, and watch Frank Darabont’s big-screen adaptation of King’s novella “The Mist.” I haven’t read the book since around 1993, so even my best memories of the original story are hazy and dreamlike. I’m pretty sure it involves Scarlet Johanssen and Natalie Portman making out. In mist. If that’s the case, the Darabont version was taking some major liberties.

In this less sexy version, Drew-Struzan-like painter David Drayton and his little son end up trapped in a small supermarket as a heavy white fog descends upon the town. At first, no one is sure if it’s a toxic pollution cloud or what, but soon enough a man runs into the store, covered in blood. His message: YOU GUYS. OH NOES! Apparently, the blood on his clothes belongs to his pal, and his pal now belongs to the stomach of something that was lurking out there in the dense fog. No one really believes his improbable rantings, until David and a small group of men see Norm the bagboy get dragged out of the loading dock by tentacles.