I have been double, sometimes triple dipping the Tone of Phones for the past couple of weeks. There are occasions when I find myself rattling ‘bout the house at 2am on a Monday and the portal is open and I am prostrate before it. Alternately, any time during the hours of the sun on that same days works just as well, possibly better. Then there is the 9pm screening at The Dog and Truck, conveniently situated around the corner from where I abide. This is the pinnacle of viewing experiences, with multiple screens, a home crowd and very good ale. The communal viewing experience, in this case, shall not be knocked, least of all by me.
Some games are like comfort food. ‘Stardew Valley’ is a hearty pasta dish / chicken soup / beef stew mash of a game. It is the game that I run home to when everything’s just been a bit much. I am assured that no matter how unbridled the week has been, the denizens of Pelican Town are only a short bus ride away and the kettle is already on. Accidental download commenced at approximately 9pm last night. Play wrapped up… a while later and as we currently stand, Whitfield Farm is moving toward its calling as a tiller’s haven with a concentration in blueberries and a hobbitual sideline in chickens.
My only regret at the moment is that I forgot how eager my feathered friends would be to get out the fucking hatch and now they are free-range chickens which is a good thing, even if it is triggering my OCD [Obsessive Chicken Disorder]. Apparently I needs must wait until sundown before trapping them inside their chicken house, then build the fence of my dreams. This is far less fourth wall-breaking than some other suggestions I may have perused online regarding movement/reset of the coop itself and falls more directly in line with my erstwhile role-play of Farmer Jon. I now require copper bars in order to build a silo and alleviate the ruinous cost of hay. I presume this is fodder courtesy of the miller’s daughter. It is possible that I have done certain things backward-ass but no matter; like all good farmers, I have a sword and I know where the mines are. All shall be well.
It took about 2.5 seconds for my eye to connect to brain and draw a line directly from ‘Bojack Horseman’ to ‘Tuca & Bertie’. Any show that is so distinctive that it arrests channel-hopping with such breakneck, Simpsonsesque assurance must be onto a win. Groening proved it time and again with ‘Futurama’ then ‘Disenchantment’ but he is evidently not the only one with this talent. Both Lisa Hanawalt and Raphael Bob-Waksberg are at the helm and the fact that it’s a show very much about two friends navigating the tempestuous waters of low unit thirties, who also happen to be birds, should communicate to you exactly how many parts of excellent this shares with Bojack. It is just as grounded, as bizarre and on point as its bigger, beefier, more alcoholic brother and the characters have just as much wit and style. Especially because they are birds and also in spite of the fact that they are birds.
Peter Mayhew, aka Chewie passed away last week. He was, by all accounts, as much the friendly giant as his star-faring big foot and I am certain he shall be missed. I miss him and I never had the opportunity to work with that kind, warm soul. It must be true that there is an alternate, lesser galaxy - one quite a distance from here - in which there are no hairy co-pilots of the Falcon and it’s basically just kit bashing, some bullshit about midichlorians, and a whole buncha pew pews. It’s missing someone’s certain flavour. There are other aliens in the wars concerning stars, for sure but I like that wookie and Mayhew made the role his own and everything is slightly better because of that. He made it with love. Of course, the great walking carpet lives on in his very capable and proven successor so the legacy is intact and the centre may hold for a little longer still.
I just wonder whether his Dejarik is up to scratch.
JD - TACOCAT