WWdN reader Katie D. was inspired by yesterday's audiobook post, and sent me this incredibly awesome piece of art:
Several readers sent me this story from the Mail Tribune about some of Stand By Me's locations. If you are up in Southern Oregon, and you want to see some of the train tracks and locations we walked along in Stand By Me, now you know how to find them.
I heard from WWdN reader Mike Massee that the trestle we ran across, which is located in Northern California, is being torn down. He was recently there, and took some beautiful pictures of it.
If you want to get your very own 8-bit clown sweater T-shirt, you can still do that.
Speaking of T-shirts, I haven't pointed to the Wil Says Don't Be A Dick T-shirt in a long time. I think I'll do that right now. POINT! POINT! POINT!
I wrote the introduction to John Scalzi's Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded. The book has shipped, and at least one reader liked it. Yay!
My dad and I went to the Dodger game last night. It was a hell of a game, right up until Torre decided to manage his bullpen like an 8 year-old playing MLB '06 on the PS2.
I learned two things while I was at the game last night. First, the quality of an over-priced shitty cheese pizza is improved one million percent by the judicious application of jalapeños. You will pay for it 18 hours later, but pair it with an equally over-priced, shitty beer and it's almost worth it. Second, a baseball game with your dad is great, but a playoff game with your dad - especially the first one you've ever attended together - is awesome. The last time the Dodgers were in the NLCS, I was 16, firmly in the grip of teenage angst, and I didn't care about baseball precisely because it was important to my dad. Even though the Dodgers gave us a heartbreaking loss last night, it was a victory for me in the only way that really mattered.
. . . fuckin' Dodgers.
