In Which I Don’t Get the Success of the Cars Movies

I’m not generally in the business of second-guessing the decisions of major companies, but I do have to express at a minimum skepticism at Pixar’s strategy regarding the Cars movies.

Specifically, I have no idea why the hell they’re the Big Tentpole Franchise that Pixar leans on for its revenue (non-Toy Story division). It—well, it’s a bit confusing, is what it is. I should admit up front that I’ve never actually seen any of the Cars movies except for like an hour of the first one in middle school (English class, I think? Maybe math or social studies? Probably a sub? I know for sure the class was being taught by one of my P.E. teachers, which makes it sound kind of like a dream, but I swear to God that this happened), so I could be missing something important.

And I’ll grant that I’m not the target audience for these movies; I’m just a bit too old and Pixar for me means the films that they released between A Bug’s Life and The Incredibles. By the time Cars 2 rolled around I was a high school sophomore and now I’m twenty and here comes Cars 3, like the slow, inevitable slide toward death.

But still, it’s maddening that I cannot seem to get a fucking grip on these movies. Why do they rate sequels, spin-offs, toys, an entire themed land at Disneyland? I seem to be missing something major, and I mean major, here. Read More…

Two Questions

  1. What sort of person makes a detailed Wikipedia entry for Luann?
  2. How do I ensure that I never meet that person?

…Huh

Hey, all. Sorry I haven’t been able to post more, but the world’s kind of crazy and stupid, school’s keeping me busy, I still don’t have a proper computer; you know—

Wait, something’s happening today, but I can’t quite—

[Consults wall calendar, hash marks on wall next to wall calendar, and old-fashioned page-a-day desk calendar (1)]

…Oh, yeah, it’s the day before Valentine’s Day, the 97th anniversary of the League of Nations recognizing the perpetual neutrality of Switzerland, the 17th anniversary of the death of Peanuts creator Charles M. Schulz, and—

Oh, yeah…

TWO YEARS, BITCHES!

(No GIFs because, like I said, no proper computer yet.)

_______________________

[1] They still sell these, I think.

Year-End Update

The conventional wisdom reads that 2016 sucked, and I’m not about to challenge that. It wasn’t great for me personally, wasn’t great for the world. I don’t think I need to elaborate about why it wasn’t great, so a few things before we cast this refuse off and proceed uncertainly into the future:

Read More…

Although an Explanation May Be Sought, None is Given

I am—very slightly—in the weeds at the moment.  The two major components of being a freelance writer are writing and trying to make money from writing, one of which is considerably easier than the other. And things are really stupid at the moment, just in the general sense, and I’m looking down the next quarter of college, and and and…

But I have not let Chasing the Rabbit slip entirely from my mind. I’ve been meaning to change the tagline for a while. What does it mean? Well…

Look within yourself and you will find an explanation. You may not—consciously—know what it means, but you do know. Even if it takes you a minute or two to get it, you will get it.

An Open Letter to Speaker of the House Paul Ryan

Dear Speaker Ryan:

Go fuck yourself with a telephone pole.

Sincerely,

A kid who was on the free lunch program.

(Context, if you’re into that sort of thing.)

13 Tips on Talking Politics at the Thanksgiving Dinner Table

This election has sucked, let’s be real. It’s been nasty, divisive, mean. Chances are you’re bitter and/or hypertensive; you may have developed some new sort of stress-related infection or had the lining of your esophagus eaten away by acid reflux. And now it’s Thanksgiving, only two weeks after the election, and you’ve got to talk to your relatives. Your relatives who—at least for the premises of this article—you don’t agree with politically and voted for Trump. Now—ulp!—you’ve got to sit down and make nice for a few hours over pie and turkey. You can, of course, try to divert the conversation and stick to non-political topics—sports, TV, Cousin Bernie’s trip to Costa Rica. But this tactic may fail. Hell, it probably will, especially once Grandma’s gotten into the sherry or ol’ Uncle Hank’s started in about George Soros. Toward this eventuality, and in hopes that your holiday season will be a more pleasant experience than a grinding one, we here at Chasing the Rabbit have prepared a list of tips which we have found helpful in dealing with political arguments during the holidays.

1. Move to Florida for a year.

2-10. Move across the country (at least 3000 miles, preferably with a mountain range or two, a few state lines, a nice big river–this should be easy enough in the continental United States), so that a visit is impractical at best—more of an airplane flight deal than a simple drive.

11. Maintain a comparative radio silence—don’t contact your relatives outside of a nodding acquaintance on Facebook, the odd vacation meetup, maybe a phone call once or twice a year.

12. Spend Thanksgiving with your friends instead. Remember, you don’t have to put up with some jackass just because they’re family.

13. Enjoy your holiday and celebrate the way you like it.

Blue Oyster Cult Songs, Ranked by Plausibility of Association with the Martian Manhunter

12. “Joan Crawford”

11. “Shooting Shark”

10. “Then Came the Last Days of May”

9. “Black Blade”

8. “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper”

7. “Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll”

6. “Flaming Telepaths”

5. “Sole Survivor”

4. “Burnin’ for You”

3. “Fire of Unknown Origin”

2. “Veteran of the Psychic Wars”

1.  “Godzilla”

Say Something Clever, Alex.

Okay, gotta say something about this week, if only because I’ve been slacking since May.

Here goes: I am nearly at the point of not having a rat’s ass to give about whether or not black, blue, all, green, pink with purple polka-dots, orange, zebra-striped, or all lives matter. And I know that sounds callous, but I just want people to stop killing one another. It’s that damned simple. Enough already, whatever–you know, I can’t do my whole aloof-above-it-all commentator routine, since I want to sneer in contempt or put my fist through the monitor. So, here’s what I’ve got to say: Stop murdering each other. More substantive content to resume eventually.

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