It’s an All-Skate

Sunday afternoon I took Squig to Skate King.

I need not describe the venue to anyone raised in this area, as they already have a perfect mental picture of the joint throbbing in their forebrain. (It looks pretty much exactly as you remember it by the way, minus the Tempest machine.) For the rest: SK is a roller rink which, in the 70’s and 80’s, was thee place for get-togethers of all kinds: birthdays, school functions, funerals, etc. Judging from yesterday’s crowd its popularity remains largely undiminished, even if its webpage has not been updated since its creation in ’73.

This was my first time at SK since … well, let’s put it this way: the last time I was there, “Relax” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood was in the top 40. I am not just picking a arbitrary song to represent the early eighties, but actually recall this being played at a school-sponsored “Skate Party” I attended. I distinctly remember the horrified expression on the faces of parents, when the music was interrupted by spraying noises and all the seventh-graders in the rink joined Frankie in yelling “Come!!” (True story.)

Squig, on the other hands, had never worn roller skate before. If you are a parent and have not yet put your child on wheels, you need to do so immediately because it is high-larious. I seriously could not stop laughing at my only begotten son. It was as if his legs ended into two tiny terriers that were just running around and round in circles, completely independent of one another.

By the end of the hour he could stand by himself long enough for a picture to be taken, so long as he did not move or respirate or blink.

(I do not know why he looks like a level 3 lich in this photo.)

Squig was not alone in his roller-ineptitude; Skate King is like the Large Hadron Collider, with nine-year-olds in the role of particles. Imagine a live production of America’s Funniest Home Videos and you are 80% there.

Anyway, we had a good time. Well I did, at least. It was refreshing to find a place in Seattle where you can sing along to Katy Perry’s “Fireworks” at the top of your lungs without having to defend your knowledge of the lyrics.

The Bad Review Revue

Yogi Bear: “Yogi Bear gives cheap hackwork a bad name. Which is a shame, because hackwork made this industry.” — Michael Phillips, CHICAGO TRIBUNE

The Green Hornet: “The film’s only unqualified success is the end title sequence-because it’s genuinely stylish, because it looks like it was shot in genuine 3-D and, most of all, because it’s the end.” — Joe Morgenstern, WALL STREET JOURNAL

The Tourist: “There are all kinds of bad movies in the world, but it’s really only stardom that can create the exact variety of cinematic abortion we find in The Tourist.” — Mick LaSalle, SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE

Gulluiver’s Travels: “At one point, Black puts out a fire by pissing on it. It’s my job as a critic to piss on this dumb excuse for a movie. Consider it done.” — Peter Travers, ROLLING STONE

Little Fockers: “Little Fockers may not be the worst, most vulgar, most pathetic and least funny picture of the year. But it’s a strong contender for second place behind the picture Brett Favre allegedly sent over his cellphone.” — Kyle Smith, NEW YORK POST


I went to my 7 o’clock dental appointment this morning, only to discover that the hygienist assigned to me was AWOL. The rest of the staff was fluttering around in a panic without her. Finally the actual DDS came in to take care of me, but he lacked many of her core competencies, foremost among them the ability to make distracting small talk while scraping tarter. His opening gambit was, “So uhhhh … So uh how is, how is summer treating you so far?”

Speaking of terrible openers, “if I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?”–a classic pickup line that has been successfully deployed exactly zero times in the history of mankind–has been slightly reworded (presumably to avoid charges of plagiarism from Larry Dallas) and pressed into service as the chorus of this new and dreadful pop song:

I look forward to the other singles from this album, including “Should I Call You in The Morning or Nudge You?” and “Do You Want to Go Back to My Dorm Room and See My Record Collection But You Know if You Don’t Want to That’s Totally Cool (ft. Timbaland)”.

(And no, this is not kneejerk hatin’ on Britney Spears–the track is well and truly awful. Even this song is better, by an order of magnitude. And anyway, I didn’t even know Spears was the artist until I went looking for the video on Youtube. My default assumption was Weird Al.)