The Writer's Life 11/3 - Glad & Sad

Hail Cubbies! The drought has ended. I just hope it's not an omen that Hillary, a Cubs' fan, will hang on and win the election. Chicago GM Theo Epstein has now been at the helm of the ending of the two biggest baseball curses: Red Sox and Cubs. Maybe he should be running for president. According to an article at Yahoo's Odd News, there's support brewing in Bangor, Maine for an interesting candidate -- Pennywise, the creepy clown from Stephen King's novel It. Exactly what post he's running for is unclear. King lives in Bangor and posted a picture of himself alongside one of the signs via his Twitter account. Here's a pic:

Hillary is scarier.

Benedict Cumberbatch, who shot to fame in PBS' modern take on Sherlock Holmes, is the star of the soon to be released Doctor Strange. I laughed out loud at a comment on Page Six of today's NY Post that refers to his most ardent female fans as "cumberbitches."

According to radio talk host Mark Simone, there are currently 430 scripted TV series in production. Remember when there were only a handful of channels? The digital age has been a boon to writers, actors, film crews and advertisers.

I received a notice most people dread -- jury duty, Supreme Court, no less. I was tempted to ignore it. I then noticed that those who have served within the past four years are exempt. I rummaged through a drawer and found my previous summons from 2013. It isn't proof that I served, but I'm hoping whomever is responsible will show mercy. I have ten days to reply. If the tactic fails, I hope my service will be in January or February when the weather is most likely to put the kibosh on the floating book shop.

My thanks to the kind folks who made purchases today. The highlights of the session were a pair of conversations. For the past two days a man of about 40 has bought a couple of works of non-fiction and gabbed at length nonsensically. When I asked how he was, he said: "In pain." I recalled the comic Professor Irwin Corey, except what the guy was saying wasn't at all funny. He does not look like someone who is mentally ill or homeless, so I wondered if he were playing me. I had trouble understanding the points he was making, although it was clear he believed he'd been wronged. He had no trouble understanding me. It was weird. I felt guilty taking money from him, although he does not appear destitute. I hope he will not be making a daily appearance. I have less trouble understanding Ol' Smoky and his scatterbrain musings. I have serious doubts that OS will make it through winter. He's now walking with a cane and said he is suffering incontinence. Suggesting that he go to the nearby office of the local assemblyman for help falls on deaf ears. Fortunately, the second conversation was more enjoyable. Shelley, a regular customer, mentioned an article she'd just read on the saddest movies of all time. Old Yeller (1957) was at the top of the list. She's never seen it. I recalled women leaving a screening of Love Story (1970) in tears. For me, the ending of West Side Story (1961) is devastating. Shelley mentioned Kings Go Forth (1958), Imitation of Life (1959) and One Potato, Two Potato (1964), all three of which have an interracial theme. I'm sure each of us overlooked obvious entries. Cue the music. Take it Sue Thompson: "Sad movies always make me cry."

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