No Film At 11

The teenaged boys next door are in their backyard right now. They’re trying to make a video. Here are some excerpts, in order:

“If Andrew does it, will you do it then?”

“My shirt is covered in beans!”

“Can I hose you down?” “That depends, how cold is the water?”

And my personal favorite,

“Look at me, I’m a tiki man!”

When I decided to sit down and commemorate all this, I put on “First, Last & Always” to drown them out. “Black Planet” is being punctuated with screams of “Dog shit!” but I don't want to crank it lest it interfere with their artistic process.

Still, this is all you’re going to hear unless I get a link to the finished product, which of course I promise to give you. If there ever is a finished product... because uh oh. Dad just came home.

They're all going inside.

Ssh. Listen. It's so quiet now that you can hear the ultraviolet radiation filtering through the smog. There is tranquil silence -- except, of course, for the Sisters of Mercy, and now Jonah barking at the mailman.