Did you know that Ernest Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley, lost a satchel full of his early manuscripts in a Parisian train station in 1922? The satchel was never recovered. It was a traumatic event for poor ole’ Hem and he wrote about it on several occasions throughout his life. Imagine that.

This morning I accidentally deleted a post that I was going to tighten up on the train ride home and post in the evening. Believe it or not, as bloated and ill-punctuated as my posts are, I read through them at least once prior to posting. That way, I only appear to be functionally illiterate instead of completely ignorant.

I’ve learned to expect very little from any movie that’s made for children. That’s fair. I’m not their target audience. But once in a while a kid’s movie will sneak up on you and be unexpectedly satisfying. Did you see Kung Fu Panda? Fantastic. The animation was beautifully rendered and Jack Black gave a reserved performance (as opposed to his usual manic, over-the-top shtick). The opening dream sequence is a marvel and the title sequence wins the silver medal. (The gold medal for title sequences goes to Catch Me If You Can. It’s a minor work of art.) Did you see The Incredibles? Another winner. Those guys at Pixar are friggin’ geniuses.

I took 7 Year Old Daughter to a piece of celluloid junk called Bolt. Horrible. It was ugly to look at, the story was insipid and the two main characters were voiced by Hollywood asswipe John Travolta (In real life he’s a pilot, so when he had a son he named him Jet because God forbid the kid steals any attention away from him.) and Miley Cyrus. Miley Cyrus is a 15 year old who, in interviews, sounds like a 35 year old and posed provocatively in Vanity Fair. With her father. Ick.