John Bruni

TV guide with the cast of MASH on the cover.

With the cast of WKRP on the cover

With the cast of Welcome Back Kotter on the cover.

With Laverne and Shirley on the cover.

I'm old enough to miss the happy feeling of getting a new tv guide in the mail with a great Jack Davis cover.

They really stuck the landing on this one.

This week was the Trump regime taking loss after loss after loss. Just a steady stream of humiliation.

I don't have anything to add, I just wanted to remind you.

With nameless, archetypal characters, The Driver (1978) recalls the lost frontiers of Two-Lane Blacktop (1972); a gear-head cowboy, who can never go fast enough, gets real gone in LA. And as The Detective says, "that's a real sad song. Only trouble is . . . sad songs ain't sellin' this year."

There's a scene of him playing this song in a coffee house in a first-season episode of Mannix.

A singular album

"There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling transmission." What an intro for a 1963-65 TV show, The Outer Limits, that served SF paranoia straight, no chaser.

Your Flag Album Cover Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore

Sorry, ain't gonna bring dick back.

Mikie, Abigail, and Zohran win and Dick Cheney died? I'd say we deserved a quality day like this.

Remember: Dick Cheney won't see your mean jokes about Dick Cheney, but your horrible warmonger ghoul friends...well, they'll probably only see them if you post them on Twitter.

The United States Of America [mono mix] (Columbia, 1968)

Farewell, Joseph Byrd.

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On this podcast episode, I talk about Fear of Music, which is my favorite Talking Heads album, and David Byrne's connections with autistic culture: msubillings.app.box.com/s/b66w7urnzn...

I mean we don’t have any pictures of ourselves, nieces, nephews, or other family up, but Donna is representing on the fridge. Pour a little out for DJ; jam an unhinged Playing in the Band

Poppy is here! She's a Flemish Giant bunny, and she's already made several explorations of our house.

Love how faith traditions, once abandoned, emerge and reveal a completely ingrained framework for understanding the world. Like I was raised Southern Baptist and am agnostic, but I direct a SB's hatred of Satan directly and uncompromisingly toward AI. 😅

I have a really hard time imagining a competent writer would be okay with turning in such shoddy work. For fuck's sake, IN A LONELY PLACE doesn't have any of these cliches. And it would kind of suck if it did.

Tonight's the release show for my band's new album, Silverstiles 4. At a cool Michigan theater, opening for Tobin Sprout (GBV). Our friends will be there, and that's crucial, cause we're playing for them.

My band's new album, Silverstiles 4, is out now: a country-rock recognition that every moment of beauty will never come again.

Opening day of William Friedkin’s TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A., 11/1/85

Beldar Conehead: "Halloween, a miserable Earth festival. It is regrettable that the High Master demanded that we return to this planet. On our home planet, Remulak, at this moment, all cones are celebrating the Harvest Under the Moons of Mipzor. Now, that’s a party!"

In Sam Shepard's play, Curse of the Starving Class (1978), real estate becomes a capitalist graveyard. After shooting up the bar of the guy who's trying to swindle her family, Emma talks to Wesley, her brother:
E: "You did the best you could."
W: "I didn't do a thing."
E: "That's what I mean."

Weapons moves away from psychological horror per se, but the film's ending gives you plenty to think about. Like dreams themselves (re: Freud), there's the condensation of a lot of different images: the image of the gun feels as American as the folk music/festival does English in The Wicker Man.

Don’t Stream Fascism: Cancel Spotify

Spotify is now running ICE recruitment ads. We asked them to stop. They ignored us. Let's show them what we showed Disney. No Kings, No Collaborators, No Capitulators. indivisible.org/cancel-spotify

My tube amp's been repaired, and it's ready to go: less than a week before my band's record release show.

“Nothing ever dies; everything is infinite. We've been taught a watered-down version of what ’time and space’ is, that we're in a three-dimensional reality, which we are not. We're in a multidimensional reality”.

Onwards / Upwards to the great Jack DeJohnette.

I'd rather shotgun a Rheingold beer.

The Little Girl Who Cried Waffen

The majority of the previews before the film I watched yesterday looked as sloppy, in our enshittified state of cinema, as ever. Which makes the forthcoming No Other Choice, by director Park Chan-wook, stand out all the more.

Just watched The Mastermind. There are traces of early-70s noir; the inertia of loserdom here hangs over a misguided art heist. How writer/director Kelly Reichardt threads the outcome through political allegory is dazzling in its own singular, and slowly intensifying, way.