Another Advent service tonight, and so another late (and superficial) post.

I’m disappointed, mostly in myself. I set my VCR to tape “Pushing Daisies,” but it didn’t occur to me that under the rules of the new technology I have to engage that digital converter thingy I sent away for. And so I missed the show for the second week in a row.

(TIVO? What’s that? Who do you think I am, Lileks?)

Which wouldn’t be a big deal, except I read that they’ve cancelled “Pushing Daisies.” Soon it will be just a fond memory, a cautionary lesson for network executives not to get too creative, or to respect the audience’s intelligence too much.

In my heart, I’m convinced it’s really my fault. I missed the first couple episodes when it (finally) returned, and now I’ve missed two more, and surely that’s what tipped the scales. Kristin Chenoweth will certainly hunt me down and murder me slowly with a blowtorch.

Which, in winter in Minnesota, is almost a merciful death.

For the record.

Everybody in the conservative world seems to be talking up the possibility that President-elect Obama was conniving with Gov. Blagojevichowitzsteinhoffer to broker his former Senate seat.

From what I’ve heard and read of the Governor’s recorded statements, it seems to me he was quite upset that Mr. Obama wasn’t playing ball with him.

Time may bring new facts to light, but for now I think it’s unwise and uncharitable to play that particular card.

6 Holiday Style Tips For Men

I actually did more this weekend than sit around waiting for tows and feeling sorry for myself. On Sunday, while working on Christmas cards, I watched a couple Favorite Movies.

First Ladyhawke, which I hadn’t viewed in a while. I think that, of all the movies I’m especially fond of, Ladyhawke has to be the cheesiest. It’s not just the jarring musical score. It’s also the stilted dialogue. And the odd costumes. And the fact that we’ve grown accustomed to impressive CGI in our fantasies nowadays, and this production doesn’t measure up. And the plot holes you could ride a war horse through (why, for instance, after you’ve spent a whole day and nearly gotten yourselves killed capturing Etienne [in his wolf form] in a pit, do you just let him go the following morning?).

But the silly thing works. Mainly because the cast is absolutely top-notch. Rutger Hauer in his prime, when he’d freshly dropped his Dutch accent and made himself sound like Kirk Douglas, and was very nearly worthy of the sound. Michelle Pfeiffer at her most luminous (though I could have done without the short haircut). Matthew Broderick when he was still amusing. Leo McKern doing that Leo McKern thing. John Wood as a crazy, evil bishop (though the script—oh, what an innocent age that was—made it clear the Church had rejected him). Even Alfred Molina when he wasn’t famous yet.

And then I watched Scrooge, the musical production with Albert Finney. It’s part of my Christmas tradition to watch three different versions of A Christmas Carol, and this is first in the rotation.

It has many flaws, notably the weakish songs (though I’m quite fond of “December the 25th,” and “Thank You Very Much” always pleases). Tiny Tim makes me want to vomit, but all Tiny Tims do that.

On the plus side, it’s got Albert Finney, young and vigorous but doing a creditable old man. The screenplay benefits from highlighting the failure of his marriage engagement, which focuses his whole character arc.

And it occurred to me on this viewing that the big (rather overblown) production ending actually grafts the climax of the Gospel story of Zaccheus onto Dickens.

Can’t do better than that.

“Russia needs Russians to survive.” Apparently a very high rate of ending pregnancies continues in Russia. It’s unthinkable.

In other news, Planned Parenthood doesn’t believe child rape is a cause to fight against. Another clinic worker has been exposed for trying to sweep the rape of a 13-year-old under the rug in favor of aborting her baby.

Officials in the Guangdong province of China are warning the overly affectionate to kiss with care, if they must kiss at all. An unfortunate incident, in which a woman had hearing loss following a kiss, “prompted a series of articles in the local media warning of the dangers of excessive kissing. ‘While kissing is normally very safe, doctors advise people to proceed with caution,’ wrote the China Daily.”

But can we ever be sure that a kiss is safe? Maybe we should tax kissing to help pay for the health care costs it may incure.

(I shouldn’t do two posts like this one day, but perhaps you’ll understand.)