So, after working like a madman on a project this weekend, I decided to plop down in front of the tube for a little R n’ R. I saw there was a new Godzilla animated series from Japan. I thought, This should be fun and brainless. I have memories from childhood of the goofy Hanna-Barbera Godzilla cartoon.
This was not that cartoon.
I was totally not ready for the nihilistic, post-apocalyptic death-rant that is Godzilla Planet of Monsters.
It kind of got me down, man.
And there were Sci-fi concepts that I wasn’t prepared to wrestle with during a Godzilla cartoon.
Apparently, Godzilla fucked the earth up so bad that the human race said, Screw it, we’re leaving. Kind of like I did at my last apartment. They abandoned Earth in a spaceship and for twenty years. But it turns out, while it’s been 20 years in space, on Earth 20,000 years years have passed? I’m no physicist, but that doesn’t seem right.
They decide to travel back to Earth. (Which is 11 light years away, I get that much.) But they get back here in the same amount of time it takes me to drive to Wal-Mart? Wha??? That doesn’t seem right either. I just said, whatever, and tried to go along with the mayhem that followed. But this time stuff just kept nagging at the back of my brain like some kind of . . . Brain Lizard? (Extra points for shameless self-plug.)
I’m not saying it’s a bad show. The animation is very pretty. And the action is intense! It’s like watching someone else play a video game.
Watching it did not relax me in any way, shape, or form.
On my way out of the building where I work, I overheard this from a local gun shop owner.
(Imagine a heavy, rural drawl.)
“Them liberal nutcakes all think that we’re the crazy ones! That we think the world is comin’ to an end. Well, I ain’t one of them crazy world-enders. I don’t believe in Armageddon. I don’t.”
Pause. Then he says,
“But if it happens, I’m sure as hell gonna be prepared for it!”
The stairwell and hallway at the gym tonight have been befouled by a stench so heinous that it nearly defies description. The only things that could stink up the place this bad would be either a two week old corpse, or a fundamentalist Christian doing stand up. The most distinct odors I’m registering are cooked chocolate, so rich and cloying it smothers the smeller, along with burnt hair, and death.
Back in the eighties there was a Led Zeppelin clone band called, Kingdom Come. Who could ever forget their debut album “In Your Face”? I once played it for my wife and made her guess who they were imitating.
I said, “Okay, who are they trying to sound like?”
She says, “Hmm. 80s Rock?”
“That’s an it, not a who.”
“Is it Queen?”
“No. Try again.”
“Are you even trying?”
“Well now I’m nervous. I can’t think.”
“You get one more guess.”
“Okay, we’re done here.”
“Was I right?”
“No! You are incredibly wrong.”
“It’s Metallica. You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”
Last night I dreamed that Louisville’s various neighborhoods and townships were revamped into amusement park sections to draw tourists. We already have a Germantown in real life. In my dream, the residents there were being paid to dress in suspenders and lederhosen.
Churchill Downs was renamed Horsey Land. Everyone who lived there wore horse t-shirts. But that was it. I remember my dream self thinking how weird it was that they went to more effort dressing up Germantown than they did the home of the Kentucky Derby. That’s just doesn’t make any sense.
I wish I could remember some of the others. I have a feeling they were priceless. But the dream is already evaporating into the ether.
The only other part I remember is that I was visiting all of the areas to see the changes, and I had to take a ferry to cross over to Germantown. (There is no such ferry in the real Louisville.) There was a woman with her teenage daughter on the boat. The woman and I started having a very nice conversation. Then she surreptitiously slipped me a note. It read, “We really can’t do this anymore. I have to think of my daughter.” I looked at her completely confused. She looked back at me smiling, as if nothing had happened. I slipped her back a note that said, “Are you a crazy person?” Then the ferry arrived and I went on to find some oom-pah-pah in German Land. Or Town. Whatever.
I want to go back there tonight so I can find Bourbonville.