I can’t believe I’m watching “Krypto the Super-Dog” dubbed into Irish. (As gaeilge: Krypto, an Madra Iontach.)
Thank you, TG4…
[tags]Krypto, Krypto the Super-Dog, DC Comics, Irish, Irish language, TG4, as gaeilge[/tags]
No sooner do I find out that they did a fifth season of the animated Teen Titans — which our SkyPlus box seems to hate, as it keeps dropping scheduled recordings — but now this:
…I confess I kind of like Buttercup’s giant hammer. (But then I’ve always been more simpatico with Buttercup: our management styles are similar.) Bubbles’ giant bubble-blowing thing is predictable: not sure what to make of Blossom’s magic yoyo.
[tags]Powerpuff Girls, Powerpuff Girls Z, Anime[/tags]
My favorite article from the Times this morning…
A free society survives partly because the powerful are mocked, and their pretensions undermined. Religions, which guard their own illusions carefully, are particularly ripe for satire. And they should be…
Orwell once remarked that one reason fascism never took off in Britain was because the sight of a goose-stepping soldier would prompt your average Englishman to giggle. Someone is now silencing the giggles. And our world is a lot creepier because of it.
And they’re all at least two feet long.
I’m across the road from the hotel the producers have put me in. This hotel, where I’ve stopped for a nightcap, is the Fairmont Miramar. It’s very plush. But the best thing about it is the outside bar.
Water thunders softly into the surrounding pools in various minor cataracts. There’s some underwater lighting, but not so much that it ruins the mystery of night. Loitering under the surface of the pool are koi. And what koi! Some of them are nearly pure white, with only a golden “crown”. Others are more typical, more patchy, in calico of soot, silver, orange and gold. They laze, drifting, diving, rising. They’re like whales…leisurely, easygoing. A sign says PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE FISH. No kidding! They look like they’d disdain being fed anything smaller than Captain Nemo.
The last time I saw koi this big was at the front of an old cottage (old by US standards: in Ireland it would hardly register on the age scale) over in Culver City, by the Sony lot. Those koi navigated up and down in a huge waist-high pea-green pond, half-seen, silent, secret. Here the water is much cleaner; doubtless the customers want to see the fish. They’re worth seeing. Here the waterfalls run, and a breeze goes by that smells of clean warm water, and (on the edge of things) the salt smell of the sea.
I wish Peter was here.
Later. Later he will be.
A note to the Scooby madness: in having a casual look at one of the Scooby episode guides, I find that I’ve written two episodes that I don’t even remember. Egad.
The interesting thing is that the original scripts seem to have been misplaced somewhere along the line; otherwise the titles would have been in my CV a long time ago. (After six house-moves in sixteen years, this probably shouldn’t be a surprise, even though not one of the moves would even register on the NESFA “move scale”.) Oh well….
The ScoobyThon on Cartoon Network continues, much to Peter’s helpless dismay. I left a videotape recording on super-slow last night and actually managed to catch my very first piece of TV work, a deathless thing which revels in the title “The Hairy Scare of the Devil-Bear.” It features two characters named after Larry and Fuzzy Niven, this being its only possibly claim to any kind of fame whatsoever.
I wish they would just “strip” the things in temporal order so that I could get all my taping done at once, but there’s no way they’re going to do that: even middle-of-the-night viewers would be bored witless. Oh well. It’s been educational watching excerpts from The Many Lives of Scooby and noting highs (Shaggy unpacks a suitcase and mutters, “I guess I’d better dress for dinner.” — at which point we see the suitcase is full of identical green floppy T-shirts…) and lows (right now the group is having a run in with, not just a ghost, but a ghost spaceman. Argh).
The only thing about this exercise that’s really beginning to get under my skin would be the incessant (five per hour, at least) commercials for a relentlessly insipid MOR collection of Christian music called “Songs 4 Worship”. “Millions have Experienced the Glory!” the announcer intones. Well, if they have, it’s been despite the music, not because of it. I’m going to have to listen to the B Minor Mass about thirty times to get the sound of some of these things out of my head. The heck with you, Time Life Warner AOL Whatever! (Yeah, I know, I work for Warner sometimes. Sometimes the King’s Shilling looks more tarnished than others.) (But I’ll take the heck-wish back the minute that the story editor on Justice League calls me and asks me to write a Green Lantern script. Yeah, that’s the ticket.)
This is plainly one of those weeks when my past is going to come back to haunt me with unusual insistence.
Starting this morning, Cartoon Network Europe has programmed an entire week of Scooby-Doo, during which they claim they’ll be showing every single Scooby episode ever shown. Meaning my episodes as well… I’ve been wanting to get these on video for a long time: this looks like my chance. Not that I ever want to show these to anybody, mind you. I’ve just been trying to collect all my TV work for a while now, and the Scooby episodes have been the big hole in the collection.
Peter’s feeling is possibly that this is a lacuna that should stay lacunic, or laconic, or something. Well, too bad. He can watch the History Channel next week. He spends too much time watching tanks anyway.