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12 October 2007 @ 12:06 pm
Over the years, every year, you just can't help it, there are gonna be people out there teaching you about Martin Luther King Jr. He's the foundation of every Black History Month from grades K-12, he finds his way onto the news every second or third Monday in January (third, I'm pretty sure), he did the I Have A Dream speech, he marched on Washington, he led the bus boycott in Montgomery with Rosa Parks. Pretty much I have a hazy recollection of all of these events and then some, but if there's one nugget I've managed to remember above all others, it's the fact that in his prime, MLK was doing all this travelling, all this writing, all this speechifying, and in the meantime he was only sleeping for four hours a night.

I think about this whenever it's Friday and I'm on my fifth consecutive day in a row only getting 7 hours of sleep a night.

But seriously, the human body - MY human body - wasn't meant for 7 hours a night or less! Not for prolonged periods. If I wasn't embroiled in my exercise regimen, I'd certainly be dragging my ass on the ground everywhere I went.

Today is my last day here (God willing God willing God willing knock on wood knock on wood knock on wood). There's no more exciting feeling in the world than your last day on the job. And I've had my share of Last Days On The Job. All by my own hand, all are special in their own little ways. Of course, there's nothing more devastating than thinking it's going to be your last day and then you find out you've been extended for an indefinite period of time. Praise Satan, let's hope this doesn't happen.

I think I already went over this - because as it turns out, I've seen the original 1968 version of Night Of The Living Dead before - but that movie really has me buggin'!

Quick set-up: zombies on the loose, a man and a woman independently discover an abandoned house and board up all the doors and windows with the zombies outside. The man - a black man - and the woman - a white woman - discover that there are five other people downstairs hiding in the basement (also all white). The coolest part about this movie? Well, first of all there's this jerky white guy in the basement who's no help whatsoever, and the black man puts him in his place, saying, "Up here, I'M in charge!" Then, one by one, the white people are killed by zombies until it's just the black man hiding out in the basement until help arrives. It really throws on its tail the whole notion that the black folk are the first to be killed off in any horror movie.

And then, out of nowhere, mistaking the black man for a zombie, the "Help" that arrives ends up shooting him dead! WTF? That's how it ends!

For a movie that's more hilarious than scary - the zombies clutch their heads in agony just as they're shot in the brain which supposedly kills them for realsies - it's ultimately depressing that in the end every single character we've gotten to know for the first 90 minutes ends up dead. But, I guess that's life, especially when radiation from a satellite orbiting Venus turns the recently dead into the Undead. God I love old movie premises.