I will be on WDAY radio in Fargo at 8:35 AM Wednesday morning. (Paul and Tracy show; link here.) This being an early interview, I will probably sound like a thick-tongued stumbledork.

Jinglepixie spent today in the fridge. His expression says it all: put this on the Internet so people can judge your purchases! Weak cow leakings! Soy milk! The beer that sponsored that sex-in-public contest! Hahahaha! How I hate Jinglepixie. I am planning my revenge.

I am not, repeat NOT in the writing mood today. The fortnight of slackening seems to be asserting itself. Thankfully, I had the day off from work, sort of; there was work to be done, but not the usual post-and-do-a-video schedule. (I had to take my “floating holiday” or lose it. I will also be taking time off Christmas week, for which I feel a horrid sense of guilt in advance.) (It will pass.)

(G)Nat finally wanted to watch Star Wars, and it was on the HD channel, so I sat down to watch the last half. The show gets dumber every time I watch it, but I love it no less. Still, the details do tend to nag after 21953 viewings; I still think they might have reassessed the tactics for the Death Star assault. All right, men, here’s the port you have to hit. A small bomb has to go down this pipe. We will assemble about three miles from the port, run down a heavily defended trench that gives us no room to maneuver and no way to defend ourselves from the obvious rear assault, then fire the bomb perpendicularly. Any questions? You there, Boggs.

That’s Biggs, sir. Why not just fly directly in the direction of the port and shoot straight into it?

I don’t understand your question.

Well, it’s space. We can approach from any angle. Why do we have to fly down a trench for a minute when we could just fire into the hole from above then pull away?

I won’t dignify that with an answer. You there, eating the fried chicken.

Porkins, sir. How much time do we have?

The Death Star will be in position in 30 minutes.

What takes them so long?  They got here via hyperspace, crossing vast distances in the blink of an eye, but they materialized on the other side of Yavin so it would take them 30 minutes to get into position?

Stay on subject.

It just seems like they could have blown us up the first minute –

Stay on subject.

Okay. If I die, how will I die?

If struck from the rear, you will grimace and lean forward in your seat as though you had a sudden pang of gas. Good luck, and may the force be with you.

(G)Nat enjoyed it very much, partly because she was watching Star Wars with Dad. For my part, it was hard not to tear up, because I was watching Star Wars with my Child. She had many questions and observations. About Han Solo: “I’m not sure I like him. He’s sorta bad but sorta good.” Bingo. About Luke: “I like him.” About Dark Vader: “He’s evil, right?” Right. About my ability to recite all the dialogue as it happened: “Dad, be quiet” About the Death of Porkins: “He’s dead, right?”

About the voice of Obi-Wan telling Luke to use the Force: She thought it was the ghost of the fat guy who just blew up. She thought it was the voice of Porkins. That really would change the entire story, wouldn't it.

About the Princess “with the buns on her head” – she asked if she as the only girl in Star Wars, and I said no, of course not. But in the first movie, she is. Aside from a few extras and Aunt Baru, it’s a man’s game.

About the death of Obi-Wan: “where did he go?” Darth Vader had the same question, kid. About Luke’s decision to shout out BEN! Upon seeing his mentor killed, thereby alerting the otherwise diverted storm-troopers: “well that was stupid.”

She liked Chewbacca and R2D2. I pointed out how Chewie didn’t get a medal at the end, and she said it was totally unfair. She also noted Leia’s rather suggestive leaning-and-lips-parting bestowal of the medal, and said “Mushy.”

Someday we’ll watch some more. Together. I don’t want her to find about Jar-Jar on the street, or hear about him from her peers. I want to be there to guide her.

Today was the Fun Run at (G)Nat’s school. That’s why there’s no buzz.mn video on Wednesday. I am ashamed to note that I initially said I couldn’t make the Fun Run, because I didn’t know how I’d get in everything that’s required. My wife assisted me to find the proper priorities. (Hence the day off.) The Fun Run is simple enough: you run around the gym for 30 minutes. Straight. I hated nothing more in school than gym, and nothing more in gym than running – except perhaps gymnastics, which even sounded like painful gym. I do not run now and I do not like to run. I can walk forever, but running seems rather needless unless a giant Martian tripod has just burst through the pavement and is using a death ray to level your neighborhood. Even then I would prefer to saunter, because they’re going to go after the guys who are running away, just to prove a point.

Anyway: we ran for 30 minutes. Well, we moved in a forward motion for 30 minutes. I ran as much as I could, as did she; two quick 30 second breaks on a mat were required, but then we were back to it. Great fun.  What made the event perfect was her absolute delight that I was there. Even when I jogged backwards and made her shout out cadence. I DON’T KNOW BUT I’VE BEEN TOLD / SCHOOL IS COVERING UP HIDDEN MOLD and so on. The music selections were enthusiastic, but I had to laugh when they played “YMCA.” Once of these days kids will figure out the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey says.

Yuletide Theater: J. EDGAR HOOVER BRINGS YOU THE BIBLE.

Seriously. This was, and is, your FBI! A good moral tale prefaced with frank talk about crooks. (Short version: they’re bad.) From Dec. 21, 1951, a classic piece of straight-up Hooverism.  Contains an endurable amount of a Radio Child. She’s probably about 23.

The "comedian" character may be an example of verbal blackface; I don't know enough about comic conventions of the day. Maybe that was the standard comedian accent - blustery, rustic and Suthun.

Interesting throwaway remark about the cars of the day: "These glove compartments are like the clocks. They never work." Imagine that: people became accustomed and resigned to clocks that didn't work. A minute later there's a time-related reference to "Elgin," which may click with 17% of the audience today. How will you know if the story is reaching a happy conclusion? Bells in the interstitial music.

See you at buzz.mn!