July 27th, 2007


I joked with the lady about the "dollar movies" costing a dollar and an quarter . . .

. . . so she charged me two bucks!  That's right, two bucks!  All seriousness aside, though, what's the world coming to when the dollar movie costs two bucks?

What's funny is that Century 24 has eliminated matinées as such--they don't open till four--and and Highridge doesn't show anything starting after seven Sunday through Thursday because, they say, they're losing money on poorly attended showings.  But Movies 8 (the dollar movie) plugs along weekend after weekend, year after year, with about half-full houses most of the time.

How does that work?  Let's see, you put 100 people in a 200-seat theater and charge them $2 each.  That's $200.  Or you put six people in the same theater and charge them $9 each.  That's $54.  Hmmmmm . . .  Remember, all you have to do is start the projector--showing the movie to a full house or an empty one--the overhead's the same.  Hmmmmm . . .  It's the magic of Wal-Onomics, folks: VOLUME!*

So, if you can wait two months, you can see it practically for free.  And their refreshments are only, maybe, 20% less than the high-priced joints, and that's where movie places make whatever they make, or so I am told.  Maybe that's the deal:  The movie is a loss leader to get people in so that you can soak them for popcorn and Jujubees.  Hmmmmmm . . .

I'm starving and I can see to drive now, so . . .

. . .

*Not to be confused with Wally-Woof-Onomics.  There was a discount electronics place here years ago called West Coast Sound, but their mascot, if you will, on their TV commercials, which totally inundated the late-night airwaves (worse than car commercials), was called Wally Woofer (HI FOLKS, WALLY WOOFER HERE!.  YOU'RE NOT GOING TO WANT TO MISS OUR FOURTH OF JULY BLOWOUT THIS WEEKEND ONLY . . .), but after a while everyone came to know the whole place, not just the stupid guy, as Wally Woofer:  "Where'd you get that massive 27" TV (it was that long ago), George?"  "Down at Wally Woofer.  They wuz havin' a sell on 'em last weekend, like they always is, so me 'n Madge, we pile the kids in the car 'n go on down ta Wally Woofer 'n ther she wuz!  Just like that!"

The long-lost point of which is:  Down at Wally Woofer they really did sell for less.  So much less that the other stereo and electronics dealers in town, one of whom I worked for at the time, couldn't figure out how he was making any money.  Sure, he was taking a boxcar-load of last year's models off of Panasonic's hands and getting rid of it for them, but still . . .  My boss said that Wally Woofer's business strategy was to, "lose money on every sale and make it up in volume."

"Well, ol' WW (as we come to call 'im) had 'issef one o' nem, what ya call, 'ddictive personalities.  After it become purddie durn obvious that losin' money on ever' sell 'n makin' it up in volume wunt workin', he figgered wuz cuz 'e aint done 'nuff o' it yet, so 'e did some more.  'N when 'at didn' work, he figgered 'e still ain't done enough, so 'e poured on nuh coal and did more 'n nat.  Well, what ol' WW didn' know wuz 'at the train, which he had goin' some ninie er a hunerd mile 'n hour by now, wuz headed straight over one o' them what ya call "fiscal precipices."  Yep, ol' Wally Woofer, after 'e ran a bunch o' other folk outta  bizness with 'is b'low-cost pricin', went an ran issef out da bidness just the same.  Oh, well.  Ah see where Circuit City's got them five-DVD changers fer less than Wal-Mart.  Less than damn Walt-Mart! How the hell they do it?"

. . .

Is the footnote longer than the post?  Good.  I'm outta here.

When Goth and cheese begin to occupy the same space . . .

The title was inspired by a moriarty6 post, but . . . I really did see two, I guess you'd call them Cowboy Goth(?),  characters in the 7-11 the other day:  Black trench coats--to the floor--over black cowboy shirts (the kind with widow's-peak pockets and snaps) and black boot-cut jeans over black cowboy boots with, of course, black cowboy hats and dark, dark glasses.  One guy was a bit long in the tooth--he may have been over thirty--the other was definitely twenty-something.  "Are these guys, like, a band, hey?" I thought to myself.  Shit-kicker Goth.  I knew something was missing from my life.

To think I poo-pooed Patricio

Patricio* told me a few hunnerd years ago that Brian May was an astrophysicist and I told him he was full of, well . . . , let's say bologna.  Patricio, wherever you are, I take it all back!  Can you ever forgive me?

Wed Jul 11, 7:08 PM ET LONDON (AFP) - After more than 30 years which he spent as a member of one of the world's most successful bands, Queen guitarist Brian May has finally finished his PhD thesis which he began as a student in the 1970s, The Times reported on Thursday.

May, 59, earned a degree in physics at Imperial College London but after years of studying interplanetary dust, he abandoned work towards his doctorate when Queen took off.

His interest in the subject was reignited when he co-authored "Bang! The Complete History of the Universe", which tells the story of the universe from the big bang through its subsequent evolution, and was released last year.

"For the last nine months, I've done nothing except slave over my PhD, which is now written up, thank God," May reportedly told students at a ceremony at Exeter University in southwest Britain when he received an honorary doctorate.

"But there are times when you really want to give up. There are times when you go, 'Why on earth did I take this on?'"

May worked on the PhD between 1971 and 1974, and kept all his hand-written notes on the subject through the years, finally discovering them in his loft recently.

"People are aware he is here and there is a feeling it is pretty cool that he has come back to finish his PhD, even if he has not been hugely visible," Abigail Smith, a spokeswoman for Imperial College, was quoted as saying by The Times.

The rocker will receive his PhD next May, assuming his thesis is approved by supervisors.

And in other Poo-Poo news today:

July 25, 2007 (NEW YORK) - Britney Spears' recent photo shoot for OK! magazine was a nightmare, says editor-in-chief Sarah Ivens. . . .

. . . "What actually transpired on the day was a shock to us and left me and the whole crew feeling quite shocked and sad, really," she said.

During the shoot, Spears wiped grease on a designer dress, treating it like "a napkin," said Ivens, and sat back and watched as her Yorkshire terrier puppy defecated on a $6,700 designer gown. . . .

Dear.  Lord.  What has become of our royal family?  And Lindsay went and fell off the damn wagon again two weeks out of rehab.  Somebody needs to find that girl a seatbelt.  She's gonna drive me to drink if she doesn't . . . wait, no that's not . . .

. . .

*Patricio was this guy I worked with, strangely enough, now that you mention it, during the Wally Woofer era.  He was from a family of twelve or so in the heavily-Hispanic south valley.  He was a wiry little dude with a wispy, trying-too-hard sort of beard and mustache and dark skin who looked like he was from Bombay or somewhere, but who spoke like a sportscaster from Chicago.  The guy was a hoot.  He was an excellent electronics tech, though I don't think he ever went past high-school, education-wise.  He had read everything and done everything you could think of.  He was a person who lit up a room by entering it.  I don't think I ever saw anyone make the guy mad.  If you insisted on making a situation unsustainably intolerable, as employers are always doing their damnedest to do, he would simply leave, and resurface somewhere else a month or two later.

He was also a great follower of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and we would stand in front of our respective benches and talk for way too long about eastern philosophy and such.  One time as we were talking about sidhis, supernatural powers that some yogis are supposed to possess, a box back in the storage area behind him leapt off the shelf it was on onto the floor.  As I remember it, I saw this happen, but of course, I told myself that that must not have been what I saw because that can't happen.

He disappeared for a few years when he married a Navajo woman and moved out to the res to live with her family.  He named their firstborn Lumen, after the unit of measurement of light.  The last I knew he worked at an electronic repair place where I used to take my mom's stuff to be repaired because I knew I could trust him.  He liked the repair biz because it was environmentally and karmically sound.  That place isn't there anymore.  Nobody's fixing anything anymore; they're just tossing it onto the landfill and buying new stuff.

So, where are you now, Patricio?  Did you hear that Brian May, Queen's guitarist, is an astrophysicist?