Self-mandated blogging.

I don't want to let a full day pass w/o (what a time saver, that w/o! It means without you know--oops, defeated its purpose w/ this parenthesis) a post. Routine! Persistence! This sucker has outlasted previous blogging attempts on the part of moiself by like a million, but considering past failures is always tottering on the edge of the abyss of nonupdatal. So many topics that I could touch on, but don't want to really invest too much thought and time on:

1. Spellchecking functions are bad. Now, you might think that I'm snobbishly saying they're bad because people use them as a crutch not to learn how to spell properly. Neigh! Nein! F. Scott Fitzgerald was a terrible speller. Shakespeare couldn't decide how to spell his own last name. And I've been known to missspel (sp?) a word or two. (Kudos to me for not taking the false-humility route by avoiding grouping myself with Fitzgerald and Shakespeare.) Rather, my objection to them is their tendency to squelch neologisms. One of the many great things about the English language (as opposed to French for example with their Academies and such) is that it is awfully malleable--taking on foreign words, using old words in new meanings, creating verb forms out of nouns (editors edit, sailors sail, so why do not doctors doct? Someone work on popularizing this please). And just making shit up wholesale, with no logical etymological basis. Plus they discourage varied or eccentric word use. Once a word processer made me think that there was no such thing as the aforeutilized word "squelch." Shame. Shame not it the sense of "It's a shame," rather in the sense of "For shame." Stop nudging me into linguistic conformity by highlighting disapprovingly such spirited inventions as "moiself," "nonupdatal," "doct," and "aforeutilized."

2. I don't even care about what I just wrote about. Why did I write so long and opaquely about it?

3. I forgot what my other topics were.

4. Oh yeah. I'm tired 'cause I stayed up till three in the morning watching Bergman's "The Seventh Seal" on TCM. I'm sorry. It is perhaps the quintessential pretentious ponderous bleak European film. But it is so good. It is so good. I was tired when I started watching it and I was like, "Am I gonna be able to stay awake for this?" But it wasn't even close. I didn't stop to blink. But then Robert Osborne came on at the end and told me that the classic shot where Death is leading the group in a dance across the top of a hill was actually done with carpenters and boom mike guys and whoever Bergman could find in costume, because everybody had gone home when ol' Ingmar noticed this striking cloud formation he had to shoot something against. Well, thanks Bob. Ruin it for me. Now every time I see that, I'll be like, "Max Von Sydow was probably off clipping his nails or something when they shot that. It's just a bunch of caterers and shit." Dang.