One nice rejection letter read: “I think there is higher incidence of psychosis among writers than any other profession.”

Well put. Form letter, but it was nice. Might be true, too.

National Treasure:
Starring Nicolas Cage and some other people. In theaters now. Good? I don’t know, I drank a big cup of coffee before I walked into the the theater, tactical mistake on my part. Halfway through the film, I wanted to get up and use the bathroom but I was gripped by the story. Or the action. Part of the plot wasn’t really that well developed but the parallel love interest metaphor, and the “life happily ever after” part of the story? That worked.

The real test of film like this? I didn’t see the first film. No lapse. No missing parts from the first feature. Didn’t miss a step, didn’t miss a beat, didn’t miss nothing. The entertainment factor was high until the climatic conclusion, and therein was the problem. I had to go to the bathroom. In the underground caverns, I’m sorry, just reminds me of another film, the adventure part sagged. Predictable. Good, but predictable. If I spend any amount of time trying to figure out the mechanics of the set? Ain’t that good.

Was a good place to take a bathroom break. Good guys win. Eventually. And the set-up for another sequel was there. Great? Not so much. Good matinee entertainment. Some of the scenery was justified being on the big screen.

Two Meat Tuesday (the book)
(cure for the common horoscope)
Pink Cake A commonplace book.
Bexar County Line