The Luna Park Gazette

And now a word about Dr. Vanderspeigle... I just finished watching the final episode of Resident Alien , and it feels like I’m losing a dear friend. There I was, all set to write about a completely different topic, when I learned that one of my favorite TV shows was coming to an end. I should mention that this post may contain spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the series finale yet, you may want to stop right here. About a month ago I wrote that an episode of this sci-fi dramedy had brought me to tears. Little did I know what was in store for me this week. I’ve been a fan since Resident Alien’s debut in 2021 and looking back, I can’t believe how I hemmed and hawed about whether I should record it or not. Frankly, it didn’t look particularly good in the commercials, and I didn’t want to get hooked on yet another TV show. And then I watched the first episode and I was hooked. I still laugh at the scene where Harry, drunk after his first experience with alcohol, dances arou...

There was whole lotta shakin’ going on in Brooklyn on Saturday night and it had nothing to do with Jerry Lee Lewis. Officially the Magnitude 3 earthquake happened at 10:18 PM in Hasbrouck Heights, NJ. It is being described as a “small earthquake” though my feeling is that only small earthquake are the kind that happen somewhere else. All I know that I was minding my own business when my living room started vibrating. I was tired, having seen the Irish Repertory Theatre’s fabulous production of Conor McPherson’s The Weir , with my sister and auntie, which we followed up with a massive Chinese dinner. So, I wasn’t in the mood for any more drama, especially the kind that rocks my house. I kept telling myself that it was a low-flying jet rattling my windows, but it seemed like it was going to plow into my kitchen. Finally, the house stopped moving. I forgot all about it until Sunday morning when I was on the Stairmaster at my gym and saw the news on TV. My landlady, by th...

“Hold on a minute,” the voice on the other end of the line said, “I’ll put her on.” “Okay…” The “her” was in question was a former co-worker of mine whom I had not spoken with—nor even thought about, really—in quite a while. Yet, there she was on the other end of the line telling me that she had just delivered a baby—which I could hear crying in the background. This was intriguing, especially since we had worked together at a newspaper and midwifery hadn’t been on her resume. Of course, she wasn’t a midwife, she hadn’t delivered a baby, and she wasn’t on the phone. And there wasn’t even a phone. No, the whole scenario was streaming out of my subconscious to create yet another one of my oddball dreams. This one occurred late last week and while normally I can do a decent job of deconstructing my dreams, this one has me a bit stumped. I’ve been trying to identify the person who told me to hold on. I knew who the person was during the dream, and I suspect that she was ...

One of earliest blog posts I ever wrote was a little item entitled “Violent Swiss Almond.” At the time, I had noticed this habit I have where I would read a word or phrase, and my mind would take the first few letters and rush to a bizarre and completely incorrect solution. The title refers to my misreading of an ice cream flavor called Vanilla Swiss Almond. There have been countless other such screwups over the years. Once, while walking through my local supermarket, I noticed a food spread in the refrigerated section called “Don’t Eat.” Don’t Eat? What a strange name for a product, I thought. Why would I buy something with a name like that? But I looked again and saw that it was actually called Down East, which seem a little more sensible. (I later joked that they were going to call the stuff Tastes Like Shit, but it didn’t test well. Rimshot! ) It has finally dawned on me that nearly of my misreads are negative. I don’t think I ever came up with an encouraging screw-...

I reached for my notebook the moment the tears started to flow. “You’re crying over Resident Alien ?” I scribbled in my journal. I have made no secret of being a shameless weeper. I cry over anything, old movies, new movies, TV shows, songs and don’t even get me started on that Kohl’s Christmas commercial from a few years ago. Seriously, don't get me started or I'll fall apart all over again. You know things are bad when the women in my family—my sister and auntie—are fed up with all my waterworks. “Don’t start bawling!” is one my sister’s common commands. On Saturday morning, I was watching the latest episode of Resident Alien the Syfy channel’s comedy series based on a comic book that I’ve never read. The show debuted on January 27, 2021, and I was hooked immediately. Alan Tudyk plays the titular hero who is known on this planet as Harry Vanderspeigle, the town doctor in Patience, Colorado. The program is in its fourth season now and while it may have...

This one's for Old San Juan. Every time my sister goes on vacation or a business trip, she always brings back a T-shirt for me. Canada, Atlantic City, California, I’ve got a whole wardrobe of gift T-shirts. I really appreciate my sister's thoughtfulness and it’s pretty cool to walk around advertising all these funky locations. On Saturday morning, I was heading to my supermarket when I passed a couple on Bay Ridge Place. “We were in Old San Juan,” the man said to me. “It’s beautiful.” For a second there, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about until I realized I was wearing an Old San Juan T-shirt that my sister had gotten for me during a trip to Puerto Rico. “My sister was there,” I said. “Maybe it’s time for me to pay a visit.” We chatted a little longer and went our separate ways. It’s one of these casual encounters that I am learning to appreciate more. I used to take these occurrences for granted, but I see now in this harsh world in which we live, a pleasa...

I was in my gym Saturday morning when I saw the chyron running across one of the TV screens. The words “Woman injured in apparent shark attack” floated over my head, and immediately I heard John Williams’ famous movie theme playing in my head. “Here we go again,” I thought. Of course, I had recently seen Jaws , Steven Spielberg’s epic shark attack movie for the first time in 50 years, so that might explain my frame of mind. Yes, let’s pause for a minute and acknowledge the mind-numbing passage of time. Fifty years, a half-century, since the film credited with creating the summer blockbuster came bursting into movie theaters. I was 18 freaking years when I first saw this water-logged monster movie, back when Gerald Ford was president, eggs were going for 61 cents a dozen, a gallon of gas cost 57 cents and the median home price was $39,300. Jesus, I gotta lay down… My sister and I had gone to see a VHS screening of Jaws at Hi-fi Provisions, a funky record store located...