Some friends of ours recently made a short film (they're officially in IMDb) that got into the Sarasota Film Festival, so Kelly and I had to check it out. It screened with eight other short family-friendly films on a Saturday morning, and there was good turnout for the two locally-made titles in the set. I enjoyed our friends' comedy and laughed along with everyone else, and I was impressed by several of the other movies too. Short films don't get much respect, but there's often so much more originality and experimentation in them. We ran into some other old friends in the audience and shared a long lunch afterwards catching up about old times and mutual friends. What a great start to the weekend. I need to get out to this annual film festival more often.


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

It's All About Me

I regret if my rantings around this site have come across either whiny, as I coped with illnesses and a busy schedule, or hypocritical, as I griped about Christmas cheer while still participating in the holiday. I don't regret if they came across as self-centered. Go »

Love, Scott

Today is my mother Joan's 70th birthday. I wish her all the happiness in the world, but the occasion brings me feelings of guilt, for I have nothing to give her. Partly that because of bad timing, since she's on a cruise with her boyfriend Andy at the moment. Go »

Mystery Gift

Thank you, Johnson, whoever you are. I received what I presume is a birthday gift hand-labeled from someone named "Johnson" in Jacksonville, Alabama, postmarked Anniston, Alabama on May 22nd. This means it's someone who knows me well enough to anticipate my birthday and know my home address. Go »

The Tiger

This is the second of four weekly blog posts about diagnoses that have completely changed my life since the pandemic started, after The Dragon. Last week, I wrote about my liver disease, which doesn't have any direct, detectable signs. It's not as if I feel any pain in my liver, or that I can sense that it's not working in the same way that I could tell right away if, say, my eyes stopped working or my lungs stopped working. Go »

A Pet Peeve That's Actually About My Pet

How come I can't get through the grocery checkout lane without the clerk or the bagger commenting about how many cans of cat food I buy, which inevitably leads to questions about how many cats I own, how much I feed them, and why I need so many cans? Has nobody in this state heard of stocking up? For their information, I have one cat who eats two 3-oz cans of food a day, which is more than a typical cat but not unheard-of. Go »

Windbag

I don't know what Polaroids he has of whom, but somehow Tom Skilling has elevated himself to some kind of all-important weather-broadcasting god. When I grew up in Chicago, I watched him gradually get a bigger and bigger budget for his animated graphics, and gradually get a larger and larger timeframe to deliver his dull reports. By the time I left town, he had a whole 20 minutes of the hour-long midday newscast for the fucking weather, and boy did he find trivia to fill it: Average dew points across Cook County on this day in 1854, theta-e temperature predictions for every Cubs home game next season, you name it. Go »