It's been too long but, I mean, you're probably cool with that.

In what is some sort of record for me post-1999, I've seen two movies at theaters in a period of six days.

Capsule reviews:

The Simpsons Movie was about everything I could have hoped for, and about everything that the generally-positive reviews left me expecting. The plot was properly absurd, and enough to fill the 80-minute running time. There were enough appearances of the minor characters to entertain the longtime fans, though I would have hoped for more Apu and perhaps a scene in Moe's. (I'm not sure that those Moe's scenes are as much of a staple anymore, but I think the movie could have easily benefited from a distraught-Homer-drunk-at-Moe's scene. Though Moe got a pretty good sans-Homer scene.) The minor-minor characters got their day in the sun, as Comic Book Store Guy got a funnish mini-scene. Among minor-minor-minor characters, I don't think I saw Disco Stu, which is a shame. And, of course, there was no chance to see Troy McClure. We got Santa's Little Helper, inexplicably.

The part that hit closest to home came when a street-performing (tap dancing?) penguin was a Walrus drive-by victim.

You probably roughly knows what happens, though it doesn't really matter. Plot: Homer ruins town, Homer saves town. Lots happens in between.

It's just so damn subversive, in its own way. Great scene when Bart puts a black bra on his head (stolen from somebody's luggage), raises his voice an octave or two, and mockingly says, "I'm the mascot of an evil corporation." Countless anti-government statements pervade, and movie-wide EPA-bashing prevails. And President Schwarzenegger (sp?) gets to say, "Whoa. That's like Christmas at the Kennedys." He also says, roughly, "I'm here to lead, not read." He does not declare himself The Decider, however. (Of course, the political stuff wasn't really that political, and it's certainly not the focus of the movie.)

In many ways, it was the perfect distillation of the show, when the show was good. Lots and lots of chuckles. Lots and lots. And, in what defines a good comedy, in some way, it seems like everyone in the theater had a different belly-laugh moment. Everything was pretty funny, that is.

Maggie said her first word in the closing credits: "Sequel." I can only assume they're joking.

Recommendation: See it.

Grace is Gone, which won the Audience Award at Sundance and was featured at an event that makes me proud to be a Ring Fingernail resident, was really, really great. Pretty understated, I thought. Pretty neat.

Neat premise, a reverse on the traditional premise: Middle-aged man's wife is killed at war in Iraq. He doesn't know how to tell his daughters, so they go on a road trip. Eventually, I cry a little. Then some more. But they're manly tears. The middle-aged man is John Cusack, so it's cooler.

It's funny and emotional and the 12-year-old daughter is just fantastic, I thought. It's got a great scene where John Cusack buys cigarettes for his daughter, then hacks and hacks and hacks. The eight-year-old girl is properly funny and silly and moves at about 100 miles an hour.

I think it'll be marketed as an anti-war movie when it gets wide release, but I don't think that'll be real appropriate. It's not really a war movie at all, I don't think; it's just a family movie. A people movie, with war in the background. The only person who comes out as unlikeable is the anti-war guy, though he's not that unlikeable.

Apparently, John Cusack made the movie because he was outraged at the US government's policy of not allowing the media to show images of the caskets of soldiers during the current wars. So, I guess he's making an anti-war statement, though the statement would seem to be "War sucks," more than "This war sucks."

Anyway, I'd highly recommend it.

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I fell asleep watching Bonds HR number 756 on Tuesday night. I woke up for the celebration, but missed the moment.

Many, many players cheated, and we know that, but most weren't gigantic rectums, as Bonds was. This is why it sucks that Bonds broke the record, though the cheating reason sucks, too.

Four things about the night:
I guess it was classy that Hank Aaron made a videotaped appearance, but I wish he hadn't. I'm impressed by the fact that the video has been in the can for a month, and nobody found out. I noticed no subtle insults in the video, and the "Dreams can come true" message is nice enough.

I was struck by Bonds' thank you speech. It's subtle, but never did he say "Thank" without prefacing it with, "I gotta." There's no part of him that wanted to thank anybody - he was obligated to do it. He was made to. Not unlike when Zack Morris thanked everyone for listening to "my" music - not "our" music. It's like The Zack Attack was a one-man show, or something.

Mark Sweeney shook Bonds' hand, and was one of the first there. Sweeney is the guy who Bonds accused of providing him with amphetamines when he was caught last year. Classy, I guess.

I wonder if Pat Misch shook his hand. I'd imagine it would've been the first time. Maybe I can follow up on this pressing aspect of the story.

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Nemo reports that Pete Nemo booed number 755 in San Diego. Nemo, as I recall, was basically silent. He reports a very anti-climactic feeling, perhaps because nobody really cared.

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In talking about the record, Pat and Ron just talked about how, no doubt, the best baseball happened in the 1960's. Of course, Latin America wasn't scouted nearly as much in the 60's, and there were no players from Japan in the 60's, so it must have been the best era. Also, players didn't train year-round in the 60's, and pitchers threw 280 innings in the 60's, despite getting into shape in spring training. But they were definitely better. Bullpens were non-existent in the 1960's, so you never had to deal with a fresh arm throwing 96 in the seventh, then a new one in the eighth, then a new one, throwing 99, in the ninth. But Milt Pappas in the ninth in 1964 was definitely better than Bobby Jenks in the ninth in 2006.

In any sport where performance can actually be measured - track, swimming, speed skating, whatever - world records fall on an annual basis. And, yet, people argue that there's no way baseball players have improved at all since 1969. These people are stupid.

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It looks like we'll be turning lemons (no carryover, not even two weeks' worth, on vacation days) into lemonade in about four weeks. I'm eagerly anticipating a trip to see Ichiro.

Why we love Ichiro:
"To tell the truth, I'm not excited to go to Cleveland, but we have to. If I ever saw myself saying I'm excited going to Cleveland, I'd punch myself in the face, because I'm lying."

More on Ichiro's awesomeness here.

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I got the new Okkervil River record this week. It's called The Stage Names, and it's pretty good. There's a cool, cool song called "Plus Ones," which makes several song references that I get, and several that I probably missed.

These include the 97th tear, the 100th red balloon, the 51st way to leave your lover, and the "4th time you were a lady." The star of the chorus is the 8th Chinese brother. It's clever.

The last song is about the poet John Berryman, who I've never heard of, but I know he's dead. I know he's dead because The Hold Steady wrote about him, awesomely, in "Stuck Between Stations":

The devil and John Berryman took a walk together
And they ended up on Washington talking to the river
He said, "I've surrounded myself with doctors and deep thinkers,
but big heads and soft bodies make for lousy lovers.
It was that night that we thought that John Berryman could fly.
But he didn't and so he died.
She said, "You're pretty with words, but words won't save your life."
And they didn't, so he died.

Man, Craig Finn is so cool.

So is Will Sheff. In his John Berryman song, towards the end, the song "Sloop John B." emerges. And then it's rewritten, suicide-note style.

"...and I hear the others all whispering, come home.
I'm sorry to go. I loved you all so,
but this is the worst trip I've ever been on."

and it continues, of course...
"So hoist up the John B. sail. See how the main sail sets." Cool. Just cool.

The Stage Names has some story arc, about being a mid-level rock band. Okkervil River is probably giving itself too much credit by claiming "mid-level" status but, hey, more power to them.

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Often, when I get home slightly tipsy, I eat popcorn. Sometimes I eat fruit. Or cereal.

Last night, I had chicken wings.

Nobody was harmed, and the wings were good. Real good.

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I played a par-3 course Thursday afternoon, and shot a 40. I got par on three holes. I'm kind of proud of that. We would've played the par-32 course, but there was a women's league, and we couldn't get on the tee until 6:40, and "it's really slow play," the cashier informed us. So we played the par-3.

I'm playing a grownup course Saturday morning. I'm getting a disease.