Hi, everybody! Remember me? I know, it's been awhile. Sorry about that. Big Brother has been totally nuts recently. Those people are lunatics. Anyway. Good thing we still have three whole months before Season Nine of The X-Files premieres. I assume, in fact, that the writing staff over at 1013 is still out surfing in the morning, and then hitting Holy Guacamole on Main for lunch, and later maybe strolling into the office, where they compare tans and complain about their portfolios, and then briefly kick around the idea of hiring a tall dude with brown hair to wander around the background of Scully's apartment, an idea they reject in favor of having Scully say stuff like "Mulder? You just missed him! He went to the market," or "Mulder's in the shower," or "Mulder just ran around the corner to pick up a pizza and some porn." Then they all laugh and laugh, and agree that the best course of action is to have everyone on the show pretend that Mulder never existed, and Scully just picked up her baby at an orphanage in Guam, on her vacation.
Oh, the recap? No, I thought I'd just babble for fifteen pages about all my thoughts and reflections on The X-Files and Big Brother and life in general. For instance, everyone I know is getting married, and having babies, and getting their Master's degrees, and I am unemployed, sitting in front of a fan and a tray of ice, eating baloney right out of the package. What's wrong with this picture? Aw, you don't want hear about that. Fade up on the cover of a black and white tabloid, with the headline "The Stupendous Yappi's Foreseeable Future." There's a voice-over, but because Chris Carter didn't write this episode, the voice-over isn't intoned by either Mulder or Scully and it doesn't mention God, or fate, or the immutable laws of physics, or time as the universal invariant, or the circle of life. Instead, it's an old man. "'I foresee a rocky romantic affair between superstar Madonna and super-witness Kato Kaelin,'" he reads. "That's a gimme; that's not really going out on a limb, is it?" he asks. "'I foresee author J.D. Salinger finally publishing a new novel, and hitting the talk-show circuit to promote it.' Hmmm, that's just playing the odds. 'I foresee the revelation that not Elvis but rather Buddy Holly is still alive, having faked his own death so many years ago. Holly will not only reemerge, but regroup with the Crickets, and they will headline next year's Lalapala...Lalapazool...what the hell is Lalapallazzo?" the old man asks the clerk of the convenience store, from whom he's buying a lotto ticket and a pint of malt scotch whiskey. "Who's Buddy Holly?" the clerk asks. The old man -- who's played by Peter Boyle, who now plays Ray Romano's father on Everybody Loves Raymond, and who won an Emmy for this role (I think ["Yep" -- Wing Chun]) -- makes a disgusted face, and throws the tabloid on top of his order. Hmmm: a lotto ticket, some liquor, and a tabloid? That's what the people at the 7-11 call my "usual."