Moe Lane's Blog, page 828
November 25, 2020
That’s gonna be a hard no on next year’s CLIFFORD THE BIG RED DOG movie.
Partially for the below*…
Per the logline, Clifford the Big Red Dog will star Darby Camp (The Christmas Chronicles 1 &) as Emily Elizabeth. As Emily “struggles to fit in at home and at school, she discovers a small red puppy who is destined to become her best friend. When Clifford becomes a gigantic dog and attracts the attention of a genetics company, Emily and her Uncle Casey (Jack Whitehall) have to fight the forces of greed as they go on the run across New York City. Along the way, Clifford affects the lives of everyone around him and teaches Emily and her uncle the true meaning of acceptance and unconditional love.”
…but mostly because they’re not using the music from the show. It’s not even that I like the song; it’s that hearing it twenty million times from when my kids watched it** has burned a groove in my brain. I feel weird when I see Clifford and don’t hear that music. Also: the dogs probably won’t be able to talk, and that’s a problem like right there.
Moe Lane
*”Fight the forces of greed,” forsooth!
**My wife was absolutely convinced that Mr. Bleakman was ex-CIA who had seen some sh*t in his day, and was thus both crotchety and unfazeable when it came to a goram twenty-foot high red dog next door. The thing was, nothing in the show ever proved her wrong. …And, hey: everybody’s got their own coping mechanisms, all right?
November 24, 2020
Day 24, TINSEL RAIN NaNoWriMo: 49347/60000.
So close to the 50K point. Close enough I was half tempted to burn my way through, but I decided to keep to the pace. Besides, TINSEL RAIN is still not quite a book at this point. I’m gonna need every word of that 60K. 80K, really.
Patreon!“This guy got a name?”
Rich Pete looked mulish as he looked at both me and Teresa. “Yeah. Who wants to know it?”
I spoke before Teresa could. “I do.” And then I interrupted her again. “You got a second, Teresa?”
She looked at me. “Yeah. Don’t go anywhere, Rich Pete.” We moved away, and she glared at me. “Since when do you stick your nose into Guild business, Shamus?”
“When I start bleeding all over it. Quick question for you: how many little ‘episodes’ like this happened already?”
Teresa frowned. “What? This is the first one. We just heard there was a new source for magical artifacts, that’s all. I was here to get a lead on who.”
“So, no explosions, rampaging spirits rushing through the streets, mass hysteria?”
“I said no… wait. This isn’t the first time?”
“Ha! This ain’t even the first time it’s happened to me. Junk spirits for breakfast, zombies for lunch; I can’t wait to see what the dinner show’s gonna be. The cops already know, too: the zombies tried to eat their coroner. You really want the Guild sucked into this? Like, right now, with the new ambassador showing up and everything?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
The THE NEW MUTANTS Brutally Honest Trailer.
…They were not fans.
The Vision Layers: Creating Accessible Updates for Tabletop RPGs Kickstarter.
I didn’t get Vision Layers: Creating Accessible Updates for Tabletop RPGs for me: I don’t need it. But once it was pointed out to me that there are a few fairly simple things you can do with PDFs so that they’re more accessible to people with vision or reading problems, I could see how handy it’d be to offer that. I checked with the creator, and he’s working on putting together a donation option, so I figure I can just pledge and give my copy to somebody who needs it. Every little bit helps.
Tweet of the Day, You Can SEE The Approaching Trainwreck edition.
Our modern culture is actually capable of accomplishing many difficult artistic tasks. Remaking IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE ain’t one of ’em.
Pete Davidson to lead all-star version of 'It's a Wonderful Life' https://t.co/ccMQiWdBdT pic.twitter.com/YzyRZ6fwZC
— New York Post (@nypost) November 24, 2020
The good news? It’s only going to be a table read. The bad news? There was nobody present to say Hey. Maybe we should do, I don’t know, SCROOGED instead. Table-reading that would have been something within our societal capacity.
November 23, 2020
Reduced posting this week.
It’s Thanksgiving week, my wife and I have a (rare) Thanksgiving dinner of our own to plan, and all of my free time is getting sucked into getting the NaNoWriMo draft done. It’s not really a ‘vacation,’ per se, but I should try at least to feel less sad about doing content this week. I might even try to get to bed to earlier – nah, that’s crazy talk.
Day 23, TINSEL RAIN NaNoWriMo: 47328/60000.
Technically, the number is 50,000, so I could technically finish tomorrow or Wednesday. Realistically, it should be 80,000 but that’s really hard to do in a month without special training and no distractions. 60,000 is at about the height of my current prowess.
But I did write the ending today. Now we start throwing piles of words at places that I skipped over the first time!
Patreon!(I can’t post the end because spoilers, so here’s an earlier bit.)
“So, what do we do about the crates?” Graciella asked me when we locked up again.
“I’ll let the bishop know the address,” I told her. “I figure he can deal with it from there.”
Graciella stopped and looked at me. “Wait. That’s it? Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I? This lead’s gone cold, and Bishop Cooper is gonna want to know where the stuff is.” I looked at her, puzzled. “You get that he didn’t know the exact location of the cellar, right? If he had, he would’ve told us the address.”
“But he didn’t tell us about the cellar at all!”
“Like I said earlier: it’s a lie of omission. You can’t get sore when a client lies to you, Graciella. Pissed? Sure. Mad? Sometimes, depending on what the lie is. But sore? It’s like getting sore at the sunset.”
“Okay, I get that.” I wasn’t sure if she had, but I’d worry about that later. Graciella went on, “But what about the cops?”
“What about them? What, you think they care if the Mormons ship swords and chainmail north? You think I do? That stuff is gonna end up being used on Badlands desperados and Dominion patrols. Which is, like, totally awesome, to quote the barbies.
“Now, if they were going to end up on the street here, the cops would have an opinion,” I conceded. “But the sooner they’re out of the cellar and on their way north to ruin some bad guy’s day, the happier we’d all be. Besides: if I don’t tell the cops, then they didn’t know. They kind of treasure their ignorance about this sort of thing.”
