About 12 years ago, writer/artist Bill Willingham wrote and drew a comic by the name of “Coventry”.  It was easily his best work and it only lasted 3 issues because Willingham is an easily distracted tool.  Alright, the truth of the matter is, while I know quite a bit about the man’s work, I know exactly nothing about both the man himself and the circumstances surrounding that particular comic book.  For all I know he had a perfectly valid reason to stop putting it out…

It’s pretty goddamn cool when I can’t even start a post without running off on a tangent.

So “Coventry” was great and there was a fantastic scene in one of the issues where one of the characters is watching TV and the show he or she is watching is Apocalypse Now:  The Series, wherein every week Willard and the boys travel upriver to put one over on Kurtz.  I laughed my ass off and thought to myself, “Man, I want that to be a real show.”

Like I said, that was 12 years ago, when TV was, well, shitty.  TV mostly sucks – it has always mostly sucked – but, oh my God, they’ve brought back American Gladiators.  I freely admit that what I’m doing at this point isn’t much different than attempting to distinguish the difference in foul odors between one turd (the television of today) and another (the television of a decade ago) and that doing so is a waste of time, but…Jesus Christ, they’ve brought back American Gladiators.  And it’s running on a major network.  Network programmers aren’t even fucking trying anymore.  And so I’m asking I’m on my fucking knees begging:

Please don’t make Apocalypse Now:  The Series. Seriously, just…don’t.

On a related “TV Is Boffo” note, Warren G. Harding was apparently a negro.  I’d embed the video link, but doing so breaks my site for some reason.  I think it’s time to ditch WordPress and just write my own blog code.  That doesn’t mean I’ll actually do anything about it any time soon, but hey…


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.

Posted in blah blah blah Tagged with: ,