I went to Voodoo Fest this past Saturday. There was beautiful weather, and it was good to be outside hearing live music. Let's jump right in with a review of the headliners' performance:

We all know how the late fees work at every video rental place in the world. You rent a few movies, keep them too long, they charge the late fees to your account, and then you pay those the next time you rent movies. This is the unwritten agreement between all movie renters and rental places that was established right from the infancy of the video rental industry.

I have no interest in letting this become the site for celebrity obituaries. However, the passing of Christopher Reeve moved a reader enough to request that I comment, so I'll share a quick Superman story, and then move on.

I was a little saddened to hear that Rodney Dangerfield died this week. I remember watching Rodney doing stand up on HBO and being or delivering the punch line in the Lite Beer From Miller Gang commercials back when I was a kid. I've decided to memorialize Rodney with a brief review of all of his movies. Okay, not all of them, but all of them that I could come up with off the top of my head.

I guess the magic in my dirty blue hat is gone. There's no doubt that the magic existed, but there's also no doubt that it isn't there any more. Let's review the history of the magic hat. I bought the hat as a souvenir in Maine last August. It was a nice hat. Nothing special, but I liked it. I had also bought a hat at the track in Saratoga on that same trip. Again, it was nothing special.

For the last couple of days, I have been watching coverage of the Scott Peterson trial on television. And I haven't just been watching the same panelists on Larry King. No, I'm in Northern California, and I get trial coverage right on the local news. The only real difference that I see in the trial coverage is the abudance of those courtroom drawings of the trial in action.

I had a most unimpressive conversation with a campaign worker for David Vitter last night. Vitter is running for a soon to be vacated U.S. Senate seat for Louisiana. She started by asking if I was "Mister McClood." (She was working on an old telemarketing list. Mrs. theskinnyonbenny's maiden name is McLeod, but it was even mispronounced. Not to mention that there never was a "Mr. McLeod" at our phone number.)

For a couple of weeks now, I have failed to mention my fight with a four year old over pajama-bottoms. No one has ever accused me of being the most mature grown-up in the crowd, but I proved over the Labor Day weekend that I can be as childish as, well, as a real child.

This was a mean little thing that I did, but also funny. Sorry about the offensive title.

Gratefully, Hurricane Ivan turned out to be a non-event for Baton Rouge. Yesterday was the day of anticipation. The storm was due to hit land in the evening. I was whipped all day long. After my 3:30 - 7:30 AM journey to secure Velvet Elvis, I headed in for a full day of work. Needless to say, I was dragging ass, with red eyes from lack of sleep and dirty contacts.

I went outside at 3:20 this morning. Yes, it's pretty crazy to be up that early, but I find myself in the hour when only the crazies are awake from time to time. My mission this morning was to drive to Mandeville and back to secure Velvet Elvis before Hurricane Ivan blows through. Traffic had been ridiculous during the day, so I figured I would go out when it was only me and a few other nuts.

To a sophisticated kid of the 1980's, it turns out to be majorly disappointing when you finally see the move. It's really not all that gruesome or scary by today's standards, or even not by the standards of movies 20 years ago.