Farewell Scrubs

Tonight was the series finale of Scrubs, easily my favorite comedy. And now, after eight wonderful years, it is over.

My sister Kellie first introduced it to me, letting me borrow the first three seasons on DVD. Those were the best seasons, before it hit its rough patch. I watched those first three seasons a lot, as that was when I was currently not going to school, and still rocking the shattered collar bone, so I watched even more TV than usual, which is a lot.

I was thinking about it, and I've seen every episode, most of them twice, some of them probably as many as ten times. It's easier to find on TV than Seinfeld, and it never gets old. All 168 episodes. At roughly 22 minutes per episode, that's 3,696 minutes, or a little over 61 and a half hours. Almost three days, and that's just watching them all once, not including commercials. And as I think back on it, totally worth it.

There is speculation of it returning, with a different cast of interns introduced in this season. I kind of hope they don't. I suppose if the same guy, Bill Lawrence, does it, I'll probably watch it, but really they ended that show, they had a good ending to that show, and go back at all, even with a new cast, it kind of disrespects a brilliant piece of work.

Now I just have to wait for the last season to come out on DVD, and watch those 61.6 hours of hospital humor in a straight run.

Real Men Of Genius

Today we salute you, Mr. Real Men Of Genius Ad Writer.

I was driving home from work when I heard this:

I've heard them before, but I though that I needed to salute the saluters of these great American heroes. So I checked online, and turns out, there are over a hundred of these.

Here are some of my favorites:

These men, all of them, the ones in the jingles, the guys writing these, the dude doing it, the guy in the background (Especially the guy in the background. He sells it.), they are all men deserving of respect and appreciation.

I'm pretty sure that if I ever have to a get a real job, this would be it. Advertising has reached the point where I often times won't buy products because the commercials are terrible. I guess that point is moot, because, I don't buy Bud Light, but I appreciate the work they do.

Do You Ever Question Your Life?

So I heard this song today on the radio on the way home from work today, and it took me back, oh, I want to say four years, time is funny, to a time when every Tuesday, was Techno Tuesday.

I'd like to salute man who was, well, he made enough of an impact on me that I can remember him, and I associate no bad memories with this man, or fake memories.

Mark Lastova. He taught, and as far as I know still does, the technical drawing classes at Linganore High School. I had him one semester for some engineering class, and it was definitely one of the best classes I took at that school.

First off, anyone who bases his decisions purely off a Magic Eightball clearly has clearly got it all together. Any time someone had a question, be it could they use the restroom, or could they turn in an assignment late, his response was the same. "Ask the Eightball. I don't make those kinds of decisions." The only time I didn't ask the Eightball for permission to do something, I was feeling pretty sick, and I didn't want to risk having the Eightball deny me the ability to go to the bathroom to vomit. Of course, as karma, and the awful administration of LHS, would have it, the door to the restroom in the basement was locked, so I ended up going outside and ralphing in a bush. So I guess there really was one negative memory associated with Mr. Lastova, but it's forgivable, as it wasn't his fault I was sick and they didn't trust the students enough to leave the bathrooms unlocked.

And then, there was the music. Tuesdays of course, being what has made me remember all of this, were the best. I mean, it can't get any better than Techno Tuesday. I don't remember what the rest of the days were; they might not have even had names, or strict themes. I do remember we weren't allowed to touch the radio that. That was forbidden. Unlike mundane decisions that he left up to fate, when it concerned the music, be it the selection, volume, or even whether or not we even had it, his word was law.

The class itself was pretty awesome, too. For the most part, we just tooled around on this pretty cool design software, though there was definitely some playing with blocks, some coloring, and for one project, we built something out of Legos, and then built each individual piece on the computer, and then rebuilt the entire model. Best project ever!

Point being, Mark Lastova, I salute you. You are, more or less, what I want to be. Not a teacher, not a cool guy, just, someone, who could, after any amount of time, be forcefully remembered like that. He left an impact, and managed to create a hole of truth in the irreality that was my youth. Someone who defied my ability to invent my life, and just let me live it. Thank you, for that. Thank you so much.