This is not fan-fiction. This is a project to reinforce my belief that Cheers is worthy of all the literary weight we hand to the Sopranos, The Wire, and Friday Night Lights. 

The canon is, to quote Wikipedia (and what can be more canonizing than Wikipedia?):

“a collection of books and, more broadly, music and art that have been the most important and influential in shaping Western culture.”

What does that more fully than one of the most influential shows of all time? Nothing. That’s what. It’s certainly shaped me, and I’m nothing if not a product of Western culture. 

So on to the intro…

The weight of the glass triggered muscle memory. Lift, it told him. To the mouth, past the lips. Was that how the old song went? Look out gums? Sam couldn’t remember. Not that, and not most of what happened before
Before what? Before he began his life again? What kind of life was it? A better one, really

One where he was the hero? He’s not anymore, if he ever was. But fans, all the love and adoration? Was that real or just a haze, caused by the sweetest nectar, the worst ends.

But that was over now…

Stay tuned for more. 

I love Independence Day. I used to choke up when President Bill Pullman told everyone to get together to fight those immigrants, or whatever the movie was about. So naturally, I’m pretty excited for there to be two sequels.

Since they might dump Will Smith (who’s asking for 50 million dollars + a role for Jada + a role for Willow), I suggest taking things in a new direction:

Pan over Nevada, zooming in to see fat Jasmine and her Goth, pro-alien son sitting in a large house. For the past five years, they’ve been stars of the biggest reality TV show in the world (though most actors survived the initial attacks, the writers, who lived primarily in crappy-but-still-expensive apartments in NYC and L.A. all died, and the directors are all still hiding out in underground bunkers).

The heart of their TV show is that the kid is the leader of a group of children born after the events of ID4, who are angry with their parents for refusing to cooperate with the aliens. The kid (seriously, what was his name?) came out and criticized his ex-step-father and the president’s handling of the situation, claiming that he witnessed irresponsibility, stupidity and sloppy handling on the part of the resistance’s “leaders.” After a few outspoken newspaper op/eds (people still read newspapers in this alternative future), producers suggest the TV show. Since Will Smith left the family to date the President’s hot daughter (don’t worry! She was over the age of consent by then!), the family had been a little hard up for cash and readily accepted. Turns out, their old pal Jeff Goldblum is the producer!

ID4-2 will Chronicle the emotional upheaval that comes from starring on a reality show/being famous/etc. and also dealing with Jeff Goldblum, who is slowly falling in love with Jasmine/Vivica Fox in a fat suit.

Also, Harry Connick Jr.’s ghost is the new President.

Sometimes I think about writing about Chicago, and then I read this:

By nights when the yellow salamanders of the EL bend all one way and the cold rain runs with the red-lit rain.By the way the city’s million wires are burdened only by lightest snow; When chairs are stacked and glasses are turned and arc-lamps all are dimmed. By days when the wind bangs alley gates ajar and the sun goes by on the wind. By nights when the moon is an only child above the measured thunder of the cars, you may know Chicago’s heart at last.

from Nelson Algren’s Chicago: City on the Make and I know that it’s pretty much already done.

It can join everything by Stuart Dybeck, Royko, Studs Terkel, and yes, Sandburg in the ranks of stuff you always think of when you think of Chicago because Chicago is awesome and so is the writing.