In the midst of a skull-splitting sinus headache, I watched A Christmas Story tonight and do you know what? That movie holds up. It's one of the coolest idylls ever put together, moreso because it is a patchwork of bits and pieces from Jean Shephard's brilliant articles and essays. His voice-over narration in the movie is the thing that really puts it over the top and turns the movie into art. It hits on so many truths and to me is a far more authentic picture of childhood than we've seen in a long time.
It also shows The Wonder Years up for the Punk-Upstarts that they always were. Peter Billingsly could kick Fred Savage's ass. He'd go down just like Scott Farkus.
Watching the movie helped me get over the lump in my throat. My brother-in-law's other dog, Nico, passed away today. He rescued the animal from an uncaring owner who was starving the animal. Mike did what he could to nurse the dog back to health, and for several months, the dog was happy and content and was well on his way to being socialized and trained. He was an argentinian dogo, or Argentenian Mastiff. They are commonly mistaken for Pit Bulls, but they are beautiful, loyal hunting dogs. Nico was kid-friendly and loved to play. For all of his intimidating bark and bluster, as soon as you walked up to him and he got a sniff of your hand, he turned into a big grinning idiot. Sweetheart of a dog. The breed used to hunt jaguars. This guy was made sick by a half-simple redneck, and despite many trips to the vet, never got better. I really liked that dog. He was a big sweetie.