Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow. Six more weeks of winter. Unless you live in Texas, where there’s only three more. And if you watch “Groundhog Day” tonight, you reduce your sentence to just two more weeks of winter.

The alternate ending for “I Am Legend” is phenomenally better than the theatrical-release ending. Phenomenally better. Makes it a film worth seeing twice.

Insomnia is frustrating. Worse than the nightmares. T minus six days and counting.

Can you believe that Mardi Gras is in February this year? That seems wrong somehow.

I’ve had just about enough of the cedar pollen already.

Self-congratulation is somewhat acceptable in single sentences. Occasionally. Sending out photographs of your awards and spending twenty minutes talking about it is called gloating. It’s unattractive. And just plain rude.

I really wish I could remember that one thing I forgot yesterday. I remember exactly where I was when I said it, what we were talking about both before and after. But, it’s like some cosmic eraser wiped out thirty seconds of my memory. It’s unsettling.


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