I Return, Bloodied But Unboned

At the end of "Now Voyager" Betty Davis turns to sir Paul Heinreid and, after blowing smoke into his watering eyeballs, coos "there is nothing to being blind; it's not being able to taste anything that I cannot stand." I wish I had said that, but I didn't and so all I can say to my longtime readers is welcome back.

As many of you know, after leaving a particularly dispiriting showing of "Van Wider" I vowed never to enter a movie theater again. Shortly after that I met the love of my life, Miss Carly, and moved to St. Louis, Missouri where I found a job programming the scoreboard at the old Busch stadium (a job I found very rewarding if occasionally exasperating). While Miss Carly and I had many good months together in the "Queen City" I discovered that she had begun an "internet" relationship with a  young gentleman from the New Jersey area. By the time his parents installed WebBlocker she had already asked me to move out of her uncle's rumpus room.

I find I must disagree with the "wisdom" of Bob Saget - life is most definitely not a box of chocolates. I consider myself fortunate that I was able to land a temporary job as a professional celebrity mimic,  impersonating the Geico Caveman at parties and company gatherings on the upper Michigan Peninsula. While this may not sound particularly life-affirming to those of you who have never trodden the boards as the neurotic,  hirsute cave "dude" (and this before the smash television show made him famous), I can only tell you that bringing joy to tens of children and business people in such a stunning setting reminded me of the magic the entertainment industry, at its best, can bring us all.

As I was departing a particularly energetic appearance at a retirement village in Ahmeek I happened to glance at the large screen television in the recreation room and instantly recognized the unmistakable Leo Gorcey in "Going My Way." Needless to say, I sat, sweaty cave couture and all, and watched the rest of the show, tears streaming through my facial fur. As most of you who have followed my reviews over the years know, I am not a particularly emotionally giving man. But for whatever reason, that movie in that white-walled room, to the accompaniment of clanging bedpans and crazy old-people's (well-earned!) gibberish restored my faith in motion pictures.

I have since moved back to the San Francisco Bay Area, and have met a wonderful older woman and travel writer who, before she set out on a walking tour of British England, inspired me to begin my movie reviews again. And so I have determined to do so.

I am older. And I am wiser. I expect that my reviews will reflect this hard-won wisdom as well as a new-found sense of the absurdity of human existence. Together I expect that these new personality traits will flower forth an exciting and rewarding new era in my reviewing. Let's take the scoundrels to task and the artists to the stars!

Here is looking at you,

Oswald Reeves