SNYDERMANIA: May 12, 2009

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Is Lindsay Lohan Pregnant? What's the Deal with Miss California? What about Donald Trump?

AND THE POINT IS?

Do you really care whether or not Lindsay Lohan is pregnant? Miss California seems to be getting a lot of attention today. I’m not sure I understand why. Quite frankly, I wasn’t aware that people still cared about beauty pageants. Apparently, the woman made a remark about gay marriage. Why would anyone care what a model thinks about gay marriage? Now people are freaking out because seminude pictures of this woman have bubbled to the surface. Donald Trump is also involved in the nonsense. He has forgiven Miss California for the semi naked pictures. I wasn’t aware anyone still cared what Donald Trump thought. Clearly, I'm observing how key words in the title effect my hit count...

Here's some information you can use. Miss California has no connection with Star Trek. But Steve McQueen does. The King of Cool costarred with William Shatner in a 1957 Studio One production of The Defender.

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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?