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Spin the Bottle

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I remember thinking, isn't this game for timid high school kids?  I felt so adult, then. I wasn't even 21.  And honestly, when it started, I really wasn't all that aware of you. Someone got the empty alcohol bottle. A large circle formed around it, lying still on its side, waiting to be spun. Maybe it was a game for timid high school kids—but even then, it wasn't a game I had encountered at any party I ever went to. Some of those parties would've regarded spin the bottle as tame. At still other parties, it would have been far too ambitious. Here, it unfolded naturally. Were you involved? I can't remember.  The drinks helped. Don't they always? Makes everything much easier to say 'yes' to. Even if it is a little silly. Even if it is a little juvenile. Who goes first? A hand enters the circle, reaching for the bottle, then twists it with a sudden jerk. It glides silently around on its axis atop the soft beige carpet. Friction slows it, it rolls and lan...
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Dumb-Fun Sequels

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Just a list of sequel, prequel or reboot ideas. Yes, they would be stupid. But wouldn't they also still be entertaining, in their own way? (Links to their original film counterparts' IMDb listings, for reference) Truman+ He thought the show was over. But the livestream was just beginning.  The Second to Last of the Mohicans Before the last, there was the second to last. The Zihuatanejo Redemption Hope after Shawshank. Eight Samurai One more samurai. One small village. One group of bandits. One last time. Forrest Gump Too Run, Little Forrest, run! Dr. Strangelove (Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Rebuild From the Bomb) We said we'd meet again, someday. Found in Translation We remember the whisper. She didn't hear it, either. Apocalypse Again What will you find at the end of the river... again? There Was Blood Oil wasn't enough. Senior Citizen Kane Rosebud explained, though his memory isn't what it used to be. Taxi Driver: You Talkin' 2 Me? Iris is getti...
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Pig Brain

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[Transcription begins] (Unintelligible) A: "--a part of the process, right?" B: "Totally." A: "Alright, I'm recording." B: "Okay." A: "Okay, so. If you wouldn't mind saying and spelling your name, please." B: "Sure. Briah Meier. B-R-I-A-H, last name M-E-I-E-R."  A: "Great. And. Can he?"  B: "Oh, yeah. He can. Demetri."  (Unintelligible) B: "Say and spell your name." C: "Why?" (Unintelligible) C: "D-E-M-T-R-I" B: "What? That's not." C: "D-E-M. D-I-M." B: "It's D-E-M-E-T-R-I. Last name Ida. I-D-A." A: "Okay, fine. Nice to meet you both. Thanks for taking the time today." B: "Thanks."  C: "D-E-M-E-R-T." B: "Demetri. It's fine." A: "Alright. So, maybe you could start by telling me a little bit about what happened, and the procedure." B: "Okay. Yeah. So. Sorry, it's going to ...
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The World's Greatest

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I was in a cult once. That was a long time ago.  My time with them began about 24 years ago, although pinpointing the exact year has proven to be slippery for me.  My time with them came to a close around five years after joining. I find myself thinking about them often. They called themselves "The World's Greatest." We were anything but, of course, which was kind of the joke after a while.  Yet, in retrospect the name served a purpose. When we called ourselves "The World's Greatest," amid self-aware chuckles and incriminating sidelong glances at one another, there was still something... aspirational about the title. Whether or not we actually were the world's greatest was debatable. Greatest at what? How was that measured? Who said so? It still gave us something to aim for.  The World's Greatest was an exclusive, invitation-only membership with a strict color-specific dress code, and whose members were each responsible for upholding a single piece o...
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