Recover-arrrrgh! Also, BlogMeet

So, I dashed out to the bank at the very last minute, having felt not at all up to braving the gun show today. Probably a good choice, given that the drive to the bank stuttered by like a hand-cranked 16-fps[1] silent.

Fortunately, the drive back home was a little less so and I'm feeling almost human.

Now I face a dilemma! You see, there's an interesting documentary premiering this evening -- interesting to me, at least, as it covers the Indianapolis pop-music "radio wars" from the 196os through the '80s. I was around for the very last tiny tail end of it (and the epilogue), and grew up listening to the Indy stations before that. So, way kewl, right?

Yeah, except I popped for the only available advance tickets: the VIP package, which includes three hours in a downtown bar, hobnobbing with "famous local radio stars." I probably know half of them -- and they're nice guys -- but, um, three hours in a bar with disc jockeys? Who thought that was a good idea? (Free Matches Day at the naptha refinery? Chimps, hammers and a glassworks?) ...Still, most of them are retired disc jockeys these days and have moved on to more respectabler lines of work, so one can hope. Really, I only wanted to see the movie, not enjoy once more the heady aroma of cheap drinks, expensive cologne, full ashtrays and rock'n'roll wreckage. Once you've survived one long Live! From The Vogue!, you don't need another. (And not even bleach will get that smell out of your tennies.)

Presuming I survive this...Experience...I'm gonna try to get to The Indy 1500 tomorrow and follow it up with, yes, an "open"[2] BlogMeet. Let's try to gather at Broad Ripple Brew Pub at 3:00 p.m., Sunday, 15 January. I promise to not kiss anybody!
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1. The more-or-less standard of the era; sound films pushed it up to 24 fps and electric motors and nifty synchronizing schemes held it there. Unless you're very lucky, most silents you have seen were ridiculously overcranked; but even at the right speed, they can look "flicker-y" to the modern eye. (Converting the 24 fps film to 30 fps NTSC television made for one of the most preposterously-named and mechanically-intricate conversion methods ever: "3:2 pull-down." I still think it sounds like a Jr. High practical joke.)

2. Please note that I reserve the right to publicly call out jerks and ijits. Loudly. Very loudly. So let's all be on best behavior and if you just can't keep your loathe-thy-neighbor under control, stay away. After four days of Norovirus and an evening of radio-activity, I will not be in a mood to suffer fools in any quiet mode.