SNYDERMANIA: Feb 5, 2012

Sunday, February 5, 2012

MONEYBALL, BEARD GROWING, and THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON

Micro Movie Review
Had the chance to watch Moneyball this week. Cool movie. Brad Pitt did was good. Brad Pitt's always good. If you're not baseball ethusiest, this movie may not be for you. Pitt annd Moneyball are up for some Academy Awards. I guess this has been a weak year for the picture business.

Beard Growing News
I'm gearing up to compete as part of the Sun Lakes Pest Control beard growing team. Quite frankly, I've never been very good at growing a beard but I'm planning to make up for my lack of talent with hard work, grit and determination.

The Latest on THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON
The book should be in print and available for purchase at THE BOOK FROG, CHANDLER AUTO AND TIRE AND AMAZON.COM by March 1st. While Brad Pitt and George Clooney have probably not read THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON, there is a slight possibility that Rick "Ghostbusters" Moranis has.
A second collection of stories will be available as an e-book in October.
You can download the e-book for a measly 5 bucks by clicking on this link:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Eight-Fingered-Criminals-Son-ebook/dp/B005NWH8L4

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NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?