Buffa's Buffet: 5 things on my mind

You'll have to click in order to find my thoughts.

Sometimes, life is so simple that it fucks normally smart people up. Laziness bumps into this predicament as well, but the cause of this issue is an unwillingness to change.

Here’s the thing. If a sink doesn’t have a garbage disposal, then you can’t put food down or near the drain. Is that too hard? If it can’t be grounded up, it sits inside the sinkhole and gathers rust and moisture. Moreover, it’s just a detestable trait that I would think grownups would understand.

Consider this a work life grievance. I can’t count on two hands the amount of times that someone at my work has dumped the second half of their bowl of rice down the drain. Do they think a magical disposal is going to climb out of the metal surface and eat what you couldn’t? Is there something I’m missing?

Ignorance. Careless. A lack of human fucking decency! Alright, I’m done. Just dump the food in the trash and RINSE the bowl. Dump in trash, not the sink. Rinse, don’t dump. Got it? Alright, let’s get into the rest.

By the way, this will be how 95% of my articles are presented. If you want cool and inventive headlines, buy a copy of Esquire or The New Yorker. I offer a buffet of my mind that you can’t find out what’s in it until you click. I may even use a picture on some to inflate the unknown factor. As my late yet great grandfather once said, and my dad and I repeat often: “We can do whatever we want.”

The world is your oyster; just don’t eat it all at once.

The Blues play Carolina tonight, and all I can think about are the head coaches fighting. Craig Berube and Rod Brind’Amour are former NHL players and current NHL head coaches facing off tonight. Their teams will be the ones facing off, unfortunately. Seriously, before the Blues cough up another 4-1 loss, just let the two suits go at it during intermission.

Berube would absolutely destroy poor Rod, but they’d have a beer and some wings after at OB Clarks. The Blues may win, but this would be more fun. Cam Janssen gets the winner. Bring the ice, weed, and whiskey. Let’s. Go. Blues! Before the press box people shout at me, I’m a blogging fan these days so back off me and the bagged chips.

Here’s my problem during awards season for movies: I don’t like being told what to watch these days, or when to watch it. November and December for critics who are in an awards group (St. Louis Film Critics Association and Critics Choice in my case) is a minefield for time spent and potentially lost.

Here’s the thing. I owe these filmmakers and actors NOTHING. Diddly squat. Nada. One minus one, basically. The current trade between film critic and studio is access for coverage. They need us more than we need them right now, especially with streaming services offering screeners and popular platforms hoarding plenty of star-driven movies and television shows.

~Do I want to spend three hours and nine minutes on Damian Chazelle’s BABYLON?

~Do I want to spend three and a half hours on James Cameron’s AVATAR sequel?

~Do I want to watch Brendan Fraser play a mortally sad professor in Darren Aronofsky’s THE WHALE, the unofficial sequel to THE WRESTLER?

The answers are a wide range of maybe and no, but I am in no rush to see either.

What I would like to see, and will do this weekend, is a wildly unkempt yet hilariously fun Christmas movie called A VIOLENT NIGHT. A good old story about Santa dropping down into a rich family’s home to thwart the bad guys who are trying to rob the house. Simple setup, lots of action, and some laughs. All films don’t need to be so fucking profound.

Cool my brain off, do something cool, show me some skin, and make it count.