{makes note to knit Self fingerless gloves, to ram down neighbors' throat}

[robling_t]

I actually sat and watched the whole of Flash Gordon in the wee hours of last night. For a prime example of the period in which screenwriters were apparently paid in drugs, it's surprisingly entertaining. (Or perhaps that's the Children's Triaminic talking.) I dimly remember being subjected to this in the theater when it originally came out and being unimpressed by the putative storyline, but from the vantage point of another quarter-century of exposure to the ironic potential of Life, I'm surprised that this one isn't a bigger camp classic -- I mean, Improbably Nordic Jesus as Ming the Merciless? James Bond as Ambiguously Gay Forest Dude? An inexplicable cameo from Richard O'Brien? My god, we should be doing singalongs or something. cassielsander ought to try to dig this one up for one of his Bad Movie Parties, if he hasn't already...



In other news, we appear to have another rocket-scientist in the building, by the breeze I've been feeling for the past half-hour or so; the temptation to put a "...what, were you raised in a barn?" sign on the back door is getting to be overwhelming. I hope it's not going to be another snowy winter, if we can't get these doofi to learn to close the door behind them when it gets stuck in the mush...