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Finally got around to watching the "Arrested Development" "finale"- four episodes back-to-back- from Friday. Here's a message to the producers:

End it now.

Don't try to keep it going. Judging by the last four episodes, you don't have much left.

This series was, at its peak, hilarious, unusual, too good for network TV, loaded with great stuff for attentive and savvy viewers. The latest season wasn't as funny as the previous two, but it had its moments, even as the "we know we're in trouble and we're going to load every episode up with self-referential humor" stuff started to overwhelm the rest of the material. The last four episodes, however, contained too few of those moments and too many strained, not all that funny, we-don't-know-how-to-top-ourselves bits, plus some gratuitous anti-war material that just didn't fit and some even more gratuitous "Tobias is gay and doesn't know it" stuff that took the previous seasons' "Tobias is gay and doesn't know it" material and compacted it all into one evening of alleged wackiness that just came across as heavy-handed. The final episode, rushing to a possible/probable/likely conclusion, was mirth-free except for the obvious but still amusing Ron Howard-as-himself cameo. Bottom line: the end wasn't as good as the serious could be.

But let it be the end. The writing fell off a cliff this season, as if they'd run out of places to take the characters, as if they never expected it to last this long. The Charlize Theron arc kinda flopped (oh ho, she's retarded! Ha ha!), and I'm hard pressed to remember anything else other than the episode featuring the "Save the Bluths" party. Let's not save the Bluths, though. Leave them where they are, on a boat headed for Cabo, destined for DVD.

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(Image From ToonTracker.com)

Computer crashed again. Just suddenly, spontaneously rebooted with no warning- one second, I was just typing in Notepad, and the next, the screen was blanking. There HAS to be a better way to do this.

(Yeah, I know, Mac. Shut up. And when I worked on Macs, they crashed plenty, too- in fact, it was my job to fix them)

Luckily, my All Access daily columns were done and posted. I did lose tomorrow's newsletter, which sucks- it was pretty good. (Here's a preview of what will be in it tomorrow: it'll humorously summarize what I can remember of the lost gem. What? You don't get "The Letter"? Sign up at allaccess.com, make sure you've selected News-Talk or Sports, make sure you accept the ad e-mails, and there you go. You won't be sorry. OK, maybe you WILL be sorry, but do it anyway for your kindly Uncle Perry) But that set other stuff back a lot, and I'm not pleased.

You hear that, Gates and Dell? I'm not pleased! Get this fixed or I'll... I'll... er, try Linux.

(sigh)

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The longer you're married, the less you really have to do for Valentine's Day to make your spouse happy, which is a good thing, since our heads have been spinning so much with work and medical information and other concerns that neither one of us can really concentrate on doing the holiday right.

But that doesn't matter, because we took a little time and made the effort, and the Single Most Important Thing You Can Do For Valentine's Day got done. And that's why there are two customized heart-shaped boxes of See's Candies here, one for each of us.

You want a happy Valentine's Day? A box of Bordeaux, peanut nougats, and peanut clusters for me, a wide assortment of "one of each" for Fran. Pure bliss.

Happy Valentine's Day, Fran. I love you. Candy optional.

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From the December 1, 1974 Philadelphia Firebirds (North American Hockey League) game program (Firebirds vs. Cape Codders, Philadelphia Civic Center):

And...

Notable: Jack Chipchase appears to be rocking a tribute to the Liberty Bell. Porn 'staches abound, of course, it being 1974 and all. Yes, the Firebirds (part-owned by Phillies legend Robin Roberts!) were a nepotism festival- Ray Schultz was Dave's brother, Dale MacLeish was Rick's bro. Lots of center-parts, and if you were a young guy in 1974, you had a center part. I did. (All pictures of that have been burned, I hope)

Many of these guys look a lot like they could have been among Spinal Tap's deceased drummers. And of Howie Colborne's bird's nest and Tom Young's pile o' hair, let us not speak another word.

But, again, it was 1974, so be gentle with your criticism. We all looked like that back then, kids. And, someday, your 2006 pictures will be posted on someone's web page and people wiill laugh. Guaranteed. It's the way of the world.

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What does a migraine feel like?

Yeah, like that. I got one of those, right between the eyes.

My head is splitting, my stomach's bloated, and the garlic from the Versailles chicken I ate for dinner is oozing from every pore. Not conducive to writing, I'd say. So I won't.

See you tomorrow.

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Here's one for basketball fans of a certain age (like, say, mine):

This ran in the 1970 American League Championship Series program, Baltimore edition (Orioles vs. Twins). If you can name the five guys in this ad without looking 'em up, you were probably like me, watching every one of those Sunday afternoon Knicks-Bullets battles on ABC in the late 60's and early 70's, in which that first guy and Dave DeBusschere would absolutely pummel each other for the entire game. They're both gone now; Gus Johnson died relatively young, of a brain tumor. He was one of the toughest players in the NBA.

The second guy had a huge birthmark on his shoulder; he had a nice career in the NBA and then got a law degree at Duke. Here's Jack Marin now:

You gotta know the third guy. He was only 6'7" but seemed at least that wide, too. It's still amazing how much he accomplished on a couple of very bad knees, actually. Here's Wes Unseld now:

And then there's the Pearl.

The last guy's better known now as a coach, especially in the 70's and 80's when he'd wear suits with state-of-the-art flares, and broadcaster. You can read Kevin Loughery's column at CNN-SI here.

Anyway, I noticed this ad and the memories came flooding back, but two other things stood out:

1. Did Jack Marin go to the barber with the Sunday comics, point at Prince Valiant, and say "I want THAT"?

2. Have you seen five guys look this miserable in one ad? They look like they'd rather be anywhere but in front of a camera. This is what you get when you say "okay guys, just a couple more shots. Wes, your arm's dropping, could you keep it a little higher?"

I'd like to think that they proceeded to do to the photographer what Johnson and DeBusschere did to each other.

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It HAILED! HERE! In Southern California! Right by the ocean!

Here's proof, from this morning, a photo of my car:

There were piles of the stuff along the curb on my running route. The sun came out, the ocean was glistening, and there were hailstones in the gutter.

This is not supposed to happen. Not here.

Good thing it only happens once a decade or so...

(And imagine the panic if there was any REAL accumulation)

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