Parasite

My dad suggested we go see a movie and he chose one that he exclaimed that the critics and the general public had rated 98% on whatever website it is he was checking.  Won the Palme d’Or as well.  Which is how it came to pass that my 83 year old dad took me to go see Parasite.

I had ZERO idea what to expect.

But… wow.  It takes a turn or two and guts you.

My dad and his friend hated it.  But they’re of that generation that likes black and white stories that tie up in a bow at the end, preferably with a happy ending and no moral complications.  Like living your life simply assuming that no action has side effects or hidden consequences (you know, like global warming, although, to be fair, my dad wishes we weren’t destroying the Earth).

But I thought it was the best film I’d seen in a long time.

Anyway, today my aunt and her best friend were going to come over to say Hi to me, since I’m only here once every year and a half or so, but another fire broke out within a few miles of her house but the main artery road she’d have to take to get through Sepulveda Pass to get here is closed.

So I spent the morning emptying out my mom’s compost container.  She hasn’t emptied it ever and I think she bought it at least ten years ago.  I removed half a cubic meter of dirt (as in a few hundred pounds’ worth), about a quart of old plastic bags and those @#$%^&*&&^^%!!!! plastic stickers that they put on apples, melons, avocados, and other fruit you buy at the grocery store, even when they come in plastic netting as well, and the decomposed remains of numbers plastic plant labels (the kind you stick in the ground next to seeds that you’ve planted or a new plant that you’ve put in), but no actual compost.  I guess that all all disappeared several years ago.  I have no idea how several hundred pounds of dirt got in there much less huge big plastic carrier bags.

Anyway, that’s sorted now.  For the next decade, I guess.

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