EVERYTHING YOU COULD POSSIBLY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT ME

This is the strongest indication yet that hordes of angry fans are teeming at my castle moat, torches aglow, ready to scale the walls to remove the non-blogging blogger from his throne of lethargy & sloth, demanding posts, words, thoughts, any firing of neurons in the great mass of grey matter.

Or something like that.

What happened? George, he of Non-Memers Of The World Unite (NMOTWU), as well as of I'm Not One To Blog, But . . . , has actually tagged me to meme a meme in a most memy manner.

I believe the entire thing is but a thinly-veiled attempt to return me to the world of blogging.

(I also believe that world history from 6,429 B.C. to this morning is one big plot to trick me into buying organic food and ethanol-based fuel, so maybe my ego isn't the most trustworthy source of analysis here.)

At any rate, global conspiracy, gesture of kindness, gesture of sadism, or just a big, whopping coincidence, it worked. Herewith . . . a post, for the first time in many weeks. Let's meme, bitchez.

1) Ten years ago I was...

In the very early stages of dating the woman now known to all as Mrs. Mike (actually, known by that moniker to no one except other bloggers. As I've said many times, my real name isn't Mike Mike. That'd be silly.)

When I say "very early stages" that means of course the "Cool, I'm Having Sex With A Chick I Really Dig" stage. Had you tried to tell to me -- ten years ago -- that I was on the verge of the "Married To And Sitting On The Couch In My Boxers Talking About What Shoes She Wants Me To Buy For Work Stage" I'd have simultaneously laughed in your face, punched you in the face, and gone out to find at least one of the remaining 3 billion women on earth for at least that night.

Alas.

2) Five things on today's to-do list:

* Get home from work before 10:00 pm.
* Pack before I go to sleep (in prep for yet another journey to a far-flung location, in my effort to bring truth & justice to America's damaged securities investors, as well as substantial contingency fees into the pockets of the partnership for whom I toil).
* Finish this post before 10:00 am.
* Thrash opposing counsel into a puddle of mush in a little, ongoing battle the details of which I won't bore you with.
* Bring joy & happiness to the world (or at least one of the two).

3) Things I'd do if I were a billionaire:

* Buy a baseball team.
* Support a harem in a lushly decorated den in the southeast wing of my opulent mansion.
* Play 2nd base for my baseball team (for at least one inning each season).
* Not run for public office.

4) Three bad habits:

* Drinking too much delicious, high ABV beer (or so Mrs. Mike tells me).
* Going days between showers during the winter.
* Showering on average more than twice a day during summer.

5) Five places I've lived:

* W. 11th St.
* E. 32nd St.
* W. 109th St.
* W. 121st St.
* W. 122nd. St.

(I'm a New Yorker, what can I tell you?)

6) Six jobs I've had in my life:

* Lawyer
* Teacher
* Film Production (not as sexy as it sounds, truuuuuuuuuust me).
* Bartender
* Waiter
* Grass roots political fundraiser

So there you have it folks, my entire life reduced to 24 factoids. You now know everything you could possibly know about me, which more than makes up for the fact that I post about once every three weeks these days. No silly movie posts, but with inside information on my personal hygiene habits, I think you'll agree it's a pretty solid trade.

I tag . . . Smitty, Rickey, DED, Furious, & the newly-returned to the fold of bloggers Otto. Meme it up, fellas.

HAPPY TRAGIC BLOGOVERSARY

Well, well, well. Seems another year has passed. And the more things change, the more they . . . change?

Those of you masochistic enough to come by here regularly know that two years ago a fella name a' Mike started posting his inconsequential thoughts for the world to see. And shockingly, a small sliver of the world actually showed up to read him.

(And discovered, to their never-ending pleasure, that he never wrote in the third person like he's inexplicably doing now.)

Anyhow, as you also know, these days I write blog posts about as often as George Bush reads a book. And I have the facts to prove it: In Year One™ I posted 560 times. Year Two™? 94.

Of course you also know that two days ago was the one year anniversary of my "new" job. So this ain't happening in a vacuum.

And what does it all mean? As usual, I have no idea. I'm not here to explain things. I'm here to blab about whatever's on my mind! It's for you to figure out where it all fits in. Buncha' freeloaders.

So what should you expect in Year Three™? Can't really say, but here are your choices:

a. 561 posts containing trenchant commentary on everything under the sun.
b. 5 posts essentially saying, "uhhh, I'm sorry I never post anymore." Oh, and at least 3 memes.
c. Somewhere between those extremes
d. Complete disappearance

All I can say for sure is that I'll do my best to avoid "d." And I can also say that the odds of "a" are somewhere between "fat" and "chance." So it's a toss-up between "b" & "c." I'll let you decide.

(You can decide. I doubt it'll affect what happens.

WHEN ROCK STARS GET DESPERATE

Seems that bald, pretentious artiste Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan and his other bandmates are suing Virgin Records for using the band's name in promotional deals and other such whatnot.

According to the complaint, this promotion threatens the band's rep for "artistic integrity" and hurts its credibility with fans.

Uhhhh, sorry to break it to you Billy, but if that's what this is all about you might as well sue Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.

WHO INVENTED MEMES ANYWAY?

I had a feeling this would happen. There've been so many damn memes going around, I was bound to catch one sooner or later. There's only so much vitamin C or green tea one can take to keep his immune system humming along. And Smitty got me. Oh well.

This one seems to be known as the 4X4 meme, meaning you have to wear a baseball cap, drive a pick-up truck, and sing John Mellencamp songs, I think. Or maybe it's just answering the following four questions:

4 jobs I've had: Grass Roots Organizer for Insurgent Political Campaign, Waiter, Production Assistant (Film), Lawyer.

4 TV shows I watch: Mets baseball, King & I (Korean language historical drama . . . with subtitles), No Reservations (though not lately), Iron Chef America (not lately either)

4 places I have been: San Sebastian, Spain; Kwangju, South Korea; Punta Del Este, Uruguay; Ile-d'Orléans, Quebec, Canada.

4 foods I like: N.Y. Strip Medium Rare Thank You Very Much, French Fries, Sure I'll Take The Creamed Spinach Why The Hell Not, Port Ain't Food But That's Gotta Be The Finishing Move.

Bored? Disappointed? Neither? Oh well. Who's tagged? All of you . . . or no one at all. We're all about free will (and freeing willy) at this here place.

FUN MEME -- YEAH, THEY MAKE THOSE

So, there's this meme been goin' around, and all the cool kids are doing it:

Instructions: Look up 15 of your favorite films on IMDb and take a quote from each. List them below. When someone guesses the quote correctly, cross it off the list. Leave a comment with your answers. And NO CHEATING.

Fridge & Furious "officially" tagged me, but this one really seems to be a tagless meme. Anyhow, my time is limited, so let's hit it:

1. It's gettin' so a businessman can't expect no return from a fixed fight. Now, if you can't trust a fix, what can you trust? For a good return, you gotta go bettin' on chance - and then you're back with anarchy, right back in the jungle. (Angelos)

2. You're a strange person, Robert. I mean, what would it come to? If a person has no love for himself, no respect for himself, no love of his friends, family, work, something . . . . How can he ask for love in return? I mean, why should he ask for it? (George)

3. See? You made me hurt myself again! I broke my hand off completely at the wrist this time, Tina! But that's okay, Darlin', because I love you, and that's why you have to let me EAT YOUR BRAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIINS! (Angelos)

4. All I know is that instead of two weeks in Atlantic City with my bridegroom, I spent two weeks in a coal mine with John Krupsky. You don't deny that, do you Walter? (Flitgirl)

5. You know Spider, you're a fuckin' mumbling stuttering little fuck. You know that? (Applesaucer)

6. Yeah, but I still like a piece of pussy once in a while. Ain't nothing like a piece of pussy, except maybe the Indy 500. (Angelos)

7. Those two yellow zinnias at the end, they're shorter now. Now since when do flowers grow shorter over the course of two weeks? Something's buried there. (WFTA)

8. You won't fuck me and I always have to drive. (Applesaucer)

9. The farmers have won. We have lost. (George)

10. Last time I was inside a woman was when I visited the Statue of Liberty. (Toasty Joe)

11. You . . . you bought all that pudding so that you could get frequent flier miles? (Rickey Henderson)

12. We are the music makers . . . and we are the dreamers of dreams. (Chris Howard)

(Yeah, I know this originally comes from a poem. But this is a movie meme. So deal with it.)

13. Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Blade . . . Laser . . . Blazer . . . (Applesaucer)

14. I just met a wonderful new man. He's fictional but you can't have everything. (Flitgirl)

15. But feel, to the very end, the triumph of being alive! (George)

NO COUNTRY FOR OSCAR WINNERS

The first of the relatively few thoughts I have on last night's Academy Awards is "Finally!"

"What?" you ask. You may think I've been holding a 25 year vigil, waiting for the Coen Brothers to enter the pantheon. Or perhaps that I needed to see The Bourne Ultimatum sweep the editing & sound categories. Or even that I can finally rest, knowing I've heard not one, not two, but three fucking songs from Enchanted.

None of the above.

The "finally" instead means I can see a bunch of flicks I want to see. And "why have you not been able to see them?" you may also be asking. Well . . . because I'm weird. But you already knew that, so a quick explanation is required, and it'll bring it all into light if not into sanity.

My favored (read: required) mode of in-theater movie viewing is going alone to a matinee and sitting right in the center, about three rows from the front. Any other manner (with Mrs. Mike, with a friend, on a Friday or Saturday night) pretty much sucks for me. Too much chatter, interrupted sight lines, seats in weird corners of the theater. I just hate it.

I know -- it's crazy, it's obsessive, it's flat-out nuts, but it's me. What can I tell you? Since the early 90's, this is how I've seen most of the movies I saw in the theater. But with my current work demands, I have little time (read: no time) to attend matinees. I could, of course, bring along clients, partners, opposing counsel, the judge, but since that'd violate the "alone" rule, no go, you see? Or imagine if the judge insisted we sit in the back of the theater. I could be held in contempt if I said, "screw you, with all due respect, Your Honor," and sat up front alone. I love movies, but I gotta keep my job, you know?

Anyhow, now that the damn awards are over, I can add No Country For Old Men, There Will Be Blood, Michael Clayton, and Juno to my queue. Yeeeeeeee-haw. I is psyched.

Oh . . . and for my other thought: all four individual acting awards went to foreigners, including one in a foreign language film. Not sure what that means, but it's interesting.

STATING THE OBVIOUS

If I told you on February 20, 2007 (that'd be one year ago for the calendarily deficient among us) that one year later we'd be pretty much on track for a Barack Obama vs. John McCain presidential election battle, you'd have told me I was . . .

. . . well, what would you have told me? Let's play the time machine game.