The television show IN PLAIN SIGHT features a protagonist named Mary.  She’s the best US Marshall in the witness protection program, but her personal life is out of control.  The television show THE CLOSER features a protagonist named Brenda, who happens to be the best, uhm, closer (she gets people to confess and thereby closes the case) in the LAPD, but her personal life is out of control.  The television show HOUSE features a protagonist named Greg.  He’s the best diagnostician in the country, but his personal life is out of control.

I’m sure you’ve detected the pattern here and I’m equally sure there are several more television shows with similar lead characters leading similar lives.  Very little happens accidentally (or coincidentally) on television, there’s too much money changing hands.  So I have to assume this is an intentional trend.  I’m further assuming that there’s been some sort of research showing that lead characters with unstable lives are something that viewers can immediately identify with (“I’m the best employee at my job and my life is totally out of control, I’m just like House.”).

So what I’m wondering is whether or not these television shows create a narcissistic quality in some of their viewers or if they instead fertilize an already existing narcissism.

Because I’m telling you, the secretary here just isn’t the best US Marshall in Witness Protection but you’d never know it to listen to her.

The Double Double is the best goddamn burger you can buy that isn’t made by me.  It’s also something I should never eat again.  This makes me mildly sad.  Just thought I’d mention it.

THE HUMAN CENTIPEDE is an actual movie that’s been made, and it features a LOT of ass to mouth (A2M if you work in the adult film industry).  You can read the synopsis here and view the trailer here.  The amount of money that gets spent on impossibly stupid shit in this country would be so much less infuriating if I could afford to buy health insurance for my wife.

It’s probably a bad idea to pass any law that could reasonably be described as “Naziesque”.  Arizona.  Seriously.  Go fuck yourselves.

I turned 41 about a month ago and entropy seems to have kicked into high gear.  I woke up Monday before last and my lower back was on fire for no fucking reason.  That was Monday before last and as I’m writing this, it still fucking hurts.  I’m falling apart.  The list of problems is too long to go into and I don’t want to get into the gory details but I will say I’m pretty sure I have Ass Gremlins.

Ass Gremlins has to be the title of a porno.  I’d bet money on it.

I’m married to the coolest girl in the world and she’s taking me to the Hollywood Bowl tonight.  That’s how my weekend starts.  My weekend ends with some of my favorite people in the world coming into town to celebrate their kid’s birthday at our house.  Best weekend in 2010?  Quite possibly.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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