The Rant: Appreciating James Gandolfini all over again in 'Sopranos' binge

Let's get into it before the urge to inform dies back down.

Look at this face:

Not James Gandolfini, but kind of

There are few things in life as frightening as finding out your dog got out of the yard. It’s a powerless adrenaline that surges through you, the options popping out of the dead grass like recycled advice that should have been thrown away with the plastic bottle.

Yell his name out, and alert every *judgmental as ever* dog owner in the neighborhood?

Just dart down the alley like a sprinter on all coffee and no water?

Get in the car, and drive around?

Option three was taken, and it wasn’t a wise one. How are you supposed to look for your dog without running over a walker or perhaps a pet? Then, you’d be looking for one animal and having to worry about the burial of another. Or you just bump a car out of pure panic.

Yell his name and in comes everybody who is either tapped out on Taylor Swift or the upcoming doom of the election, craving a new anger to chase. I didn’t do that, instead thanking the street neighbor who returned my beagle. Roscoe never gets far on foot.

Leeroy, however, could scramble a bit if spooked, or run into someone who doesn’t like pit bulls. It goes without saying 99% of the time, but if someone screws with your normal, they get screwed with in return and usually a lot harder. He’s built like a brick shithouse, so I don’t have to worry about him taking care of himself.

Still, when I pulled the car down the alley and saw a familiar moose head sticking out of the garage door blur, a certain excitement surged through me. First, I get to live and not suffer the wrath of my wife. Second, this minor fiasco was solved without involving a neighbor and being referred to a dog trainer (sorry, already sank $2200 dollars into that) that you don’t need. Third, I was happy to have my dog back, even if it was only about 15 minutes that he was gone.

All the fears ride through your system, even the innate ones. What if he finds a house made out of nothing but pillows? It would have dog bed couplings and fittings, making even a staircase something to sleep on. We’d be screwed if he found that. Thankfully, all three dogs are now resting behind the wall in my office, as I unleash the latest rant.

*Important Note* Rants are pure, unfiltered prose dumps. I’m emptying the barrels, and gone are the 5 things limitations. Sometimes during the buffets, I’d get to the end and still have a few topics, but I’d hold onto them for the next round. By the time it was time to go for broke again, the topics grew stale. Order will be tabled, and content will flow from my cyber corner of Princeton Heights.

Let’s get into it, but first free subscribers will have to swipe right on throwing a few shekels my blog’s way. The rest of this rant is paid, so please consider joining the community of paid subscribers.

Starting with the lack of excitement for upcoming movies. Are there ones that I would like to see? Yes, but the majority of the upcoming flicks look like something that can be waited on, tried at another time. There’s a Bob Marley biopic with a good director and talented star screening this week, but my anticipation to see it before anyone else or early is tempered at best.