Latest Podcast: A Person v. “The People v. O.J. Simpson”

My Mother, o.j. simpson, Podcast, pop culture, true crime

My mom. Oh, man, my mom. I wish you could all watch American Crime Story: The People v. O.J. Simpson with my mom. My latest podcast episode will have to suffice.

Listen on Podbean: goo.gl/V5pYt2t

Listen and subscribe on iTunes: tinyurl.com/qj36p2d

Catch it on Stitcher: tinyurl.com/qjptvq5

“Like” me on Facebook: facebook.com/joalryanthing

Follow me on Twitter: @joalryan

Latest Podcast: “The Man in the High Castle,” “11.22.63,” “American Idol,” Oscar Noms, “Pete’s Dragon,” “Rizzoli & Isles”

american idol, holiday, Me, My Mother, Podcast, pop culture, Star Trek, TV

My holiday present to you: a listicle! Specifically, 12 random and arbitrary pop-culture things I’m looking forward to in 2016. Somehow, Rizzoli & Isles is discussed, as is my totally exclusive finding that Robert Redford will be way older in the new Pete’s Dragon than Mickey Rooney was in the old Pete’s Dragon.

And, yes, I know we don’t yet know when The Man in the High Castle will be back with new, season-two episodes, but I can hope it’ll be in 2016.

Oh, and happy new year and all that.

Listen on Podbean: goo.gl/Gq1yi5

Listen and subscribe on iTunes: http://tinyurl.com/qj36p2d

Catch it on Stitcher: http://tinyurl.com/qjptvq5

Follow me on Twitter: @joalryan

“Like” me on Facebook: facebook.com/joalryanthing

This Will Always Be My Robin Williams Memory

Me, My Mother, R.I.P., Robin Williams

UPDATE (8-12-14): Looking at the young Robin Williams‘ early (earliest?) televised standup, and finding Robin Williams’ fully formed comic persona. He was Mearth. As a performer, he was born a grown man. (For Yahoo!)

_________

It’s Christmas 1978. I’m 11 years old. I’m in the May Company at Eagle Rock Plaza. I’m lobbying my mother to buy me Mork from Ork-style rainbow suspenders for Christmas.

Dear Mitt Romney, Please Stop Airing Your Ads During My 80-Year-Old Mother’s Favorite TV Shows

Me, My Mother, Politics

Apparently, you kinda ruined Live With Kelly and Michael and The View for her this morning.

A guide to the best parts:

0:30 — My mother endorses Michael Strahan as a “pretty good actor.”

1:40 — My mother goes off on CNN’s John King.

1:55 — My mother channels the Koch brothers. “Where did all my money go?” she laments, asking why President Obama hasn’t bought more TV time with her contributions.

2:01 — My mother questions whether Los Angeles’ KABC7 is “going for Romney probably” because it’s owned by Disney, “which is probably Republican.”

2:12 — My mother goes off on everybody, save MSNBC. (“You might as well talk to Fox [as to] CNN.”)

This post could alternately be called, “Dear President Obama, Please Win on Tuesday, or Else My Answering Machine Is Going to Get an Earful.”

My Father and Star Trek‘s Scotty: Together Again—This Time in Orbit

Me, My Father, My Mother, Star Trek

So, my father was blast into space Tuesday. This is funny to me for a number of reasons that I will now discuss:

One, my father didn’t like to fly, and now he’s in orbit.

Two, my father was suspicious of the space program, and now he’s on board a rocket with a Mercury astronaut and James Doohan, the U.S.S. Enterprise’s esteemed chief engineer. (To be fair, my father was suspicious of everything and everyone, including former CNN anchor Bobbie Batista, whose gaze he claimed was designed to distract viewers from the “real news”—the “real news” meaning items about the space program, natch, of which he is now a full-fledged member, natch.)

Three, I had no idea my father was blast into space until hours after he had been blast into space. This, too, is funny to me, and that’s because:

Four, there is something wrong with me.

Five, prior to Tuesday, my father had been blast into space with Mr. Cooper and Mr. Doohan a million times, not including some bonus airplane flights here and there, since my family signed him up, or rather, signed his remains up several years ago for a space flight courtesy the aerospace company Celestis: I had simply stopped paying attention to what he, or, rather what his remains were doing. (See above for further explanation.)

Six, prior to Tuesday, I did not know my father (and Mr. Cooper and Mr. Doohan) hadn’t really been blast into space on all those other occasions; my father had merely been part of failed attempts to be blast into space. I did not know this because I evidently wasn’t paying attention even when I thought I was paying attention (which was sometime back in 2008.)

Seven, in emails, my mother referred to Celestis as “the space people,” á la, “The space people just sent me an email again…,” and I found that phrase, “the space people,” so entertaining that I never bothered with the rest of the emails, plural.

So, yes, my father was blast into space Tuesday, and this is still funny to me because I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be funny to him. Especially the part about “the space people.”