Mite in the Middle

I've bought myself a new toy. More on this after it arrives. All this waiting is making me, as Herman might say, akimbo.

And this week I got the school district bulletin with pix of Justin and Ben, leading the charge so to speak. Another era ends. To think: I'll never see any of the graduates again (until early next Fall, when I start paying them). Don't forget, all, send me your college emails. Hen Hud Needs YOU! You need MONEY! It's the perfect arrangement. (Bump, btw, is mandatory for all graduates. Period.)

I've heard from the Nostrumite, who tells me he was going to post a new TWHS episode this morning. I assume he did. He almost didn't make it. He is in a state of permanent depression over the decline and fall of the Hollywood empire. "It's the glorious Fourth," he writes, "and I have absolutely no desire to send myself to the poorhouse by going to see a movie. My annual tradition is gone kaput!" War of the Worlds? "Independence Day with scientologists." Mr. and Mrs. Smith? "I'll stick to Hitchcock, thank you very much." Herbie Fully Loaded. "The only way I'd see that is if I were fully loaded myself." He's got a point. There really are few movies anymore that get one to actually go to a movie theater. So what will the Mite do instead? "Odelie and I are planning on renting DVDs of whatever's left in Blockbuster by the time we get there Saturday morning." Great idea. That three-out-at-a-time Netflix thing only goes so far on a holiday weekend. "They'll probably still have Racing Stripes in stock," he predicts.

They probably will. Frankie Muniz fans rejoice!