Rish Outfield's Blog

Twice in a week, I have been pulled over by policemen.  The last time was in March 2020, when the pandemic was just kicking off.  On Thursday evening, I was driving home from Jeff's house (we had watched a Spanish art horror film from the Seventies and . . . well, that pretty much says it all), when a police car pulled up behind me and flashed his lights.  Often, when that happens, I assume they're after me, but they're really after someone else (conversely, when I'd speed and a cop flashed his lights, I often hoped they were after someone else, but alas) so I tried to pull over quickly, but safely.

I parked and took off my seat belt so I could get my wallet out, then quickly put the seat belt back on, worried that he'd think I was driving without it.**
I put down my driver's side window.  The cop--super-young, possibly aspiring to be a policeman when he grows up--came up to my passenger window and knocked, startling me a little.
"Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked, and it was a good question, as I was sure I hadn't been speeding.*  
I could think of nothing snarky, so I said, "No, sir."  
He said, "I can't read your license plate."  
I thought that was odd, so I asked, "Is it gone?  Did somebody take my licens--"  
He interrupted, "No, it's still there.  License and proof of insurance please."
Well, I leaned over and opened the glove compartment, and grabbed the registration paper, but he said, "That's your registration, I need your insurance form."  Well, I have insurance, but as I had an accident a month or two back, I must have left it in the house when I was dealing with that.
I gave him my license and he then said, "By the way, I saw you putting on your seat belt just now." 
Now maybe I was impolite about it (I tried not to be), but I insisted I had had my belt on, but took it off for my wallet then put it back for the exact purpose of not being accused of not having it on.  "Uh huh," said the man, like I do when I hear people claim Trump's going to drain the swamp (or has already).
Maybe I overstated my case, because I promised him I had had it on, and have to admit that I wasn't pleased that he didn't believe me.

Anyway, he explained to me that there's a reflective material on license plates, and mine has faded to the point of not being able to read the number, then he went back to write it up.
I took advantage of the lull to get on my phone and look up my insurance information for when he came back.  When he did, I tried to show him, but he said, "It needed to be in a timely manner, sir," which sounded kind of like he thought I was a douche.
"Sorry," I said.
He added, "Oh, and you really shouldn't reach over the way you did when you get pulled over."
"Well, I was reaching for my proof of . . . never mind."  As soon as I said it, I knew it sounded lame.
"We don't know what you're reaching for, so be aware," he said.
"Sure, sure," I said, trying to sound like one of the good guys here.
Regardless, he told me I needed to go to the DMV and order a new license plate, one that was readable, and that he'd just let me go with a warning, on the assurance that I'd take care of it.
Honestly, I was just relieved about the insurance thing, so I thanked him and went home.

Hey Rish, you may be asking, why are you wasting my time with this?
To which I say, Is it a waste of time?  You don't like this blog post?
No, I'm just asking, why would you blog about something like this when there seems to be no good reason for it?
To which I say, Well, now I feel bad.  Do you really think it's a w-- 
No, no, I didn't mean  waste  of time.  I just meant you seldom write about things that happen to you anymore, and yet you spent the time to write this one up.
I did.  Yeah.
But this one doesn't seem to have a f***ing point.
Huh.
So, here's my point, basically.  That night, as soon as I got home, I printed out my proof of insurance, and made one for the glove box and one for my wallet.  Just in case.


And on Sunday, I took out the 8.5 metric tonnes of crap from my trunk until I found the other license place (the one that goes on the front) and I switched it with the old one, since it was still brand new (I also stuck the registration sticker on it, hoping it would stay on at least until next year's stickers came).I went to the cabin for the day and came home this morning, and as I was emerging from the canyon, I passed a sheriff's department vehicle on the side of the road.  I was going too fast, as was the truck that was riding my hind end, presumably trying to figure out what my bumper sticker was supposed to represent.***
"Do you know why I pulled you over?" this cop asked me.  Well, I was pretty sure it was because I was speeding, but he'd also pulled over the pickup truck too, which I'd never seen before.  It may have been that he was pulling everyone over that came through the canyon, because they might not be aware of the zombie apocalypse going on in the cities.
Maybe they ask the question that way so that people will say, "I dunno, is it because of the baggies of heroin under the spare in the trunk?" or "Because you finally found out what I did at the synagogue?"
Anyway, in this case, he said, "Clocked you and the other guy doing 46 in a 35."
Ah.  Anyway, I got out my license and said, "Can I grab you my proof of insurance?"
And the cop said, "I don't need it.  If I want to, I can check to see if you have insurance."
Ah again.
Anyway, he checked to see if I had any outstanding warrants, then let both of us speeders go.
And that's it for my scintillating tale . . . unless I get pulled over a third time this week.  I'll let you know why he pulled me over.



*I wouldn't have said my car was capable of speeding until today, but that's putting the patrolman before the horse.
**My car, and I assume yours as well, has an ear-splitting beeping that goes off if you don't put your seatbelt on, or if you've got a box sitting on the passenger seat until you're about to lose your mind and you pull over, get out, and put a seatbelt over the box.

***It's the second Death Star.  You know, the one that was still under construction.

I was going on a run (unfortunately, I still do that*) and it occurred to me, "Jeez, I never have any content for my blog, so it would be fun to make a post where I list all the movies Marshal Latham and I have watched for our opposite-of-renowned podcast, The Outcast Excursions. I could even make a post citing the Genre we've done the most movies in, the Director we've covered the most, and the Decade we've hit most." But dang, I knew it would be soooooo much work, and I barely make time to write, podcast, or properly wipe myself as it is.
But when I got home, I remembered that Marshal had once created a shared spreadsheet for the showand I thought, if I could grab that and fill in everything since he last updated it, it would only take me anhour or so to find the answers. And to my delight, Marshal has continued to update it, even including thenext episode not yet released.

So, in answer to the question only I gave a crap about . . .
Total number of episodes (counting our try-out episode [DUEL]):44
Year most covered:TIE (4) 1983/2014 (1983: SPACEHUNTER, SWORD OF THE VALIANT, SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES, KRULL) (2014: DRACULA UNTOLD, HERCULES, THE LEGEND OF HERCULES, THE GIVER)
Oldest film reviewed:THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH (1934)
Newest film reviewed:LISA FRANKENSTEIN (2024)
Most-reviewed director:Alfred Hitchcock (6), which isn't surprising, since we try and do a Hitchcock film every year or so. Roger Corman is coming up quickly behind, though.

Number of movies by decade:1930s: 11940s: 41950s: 41960s: 71970s: 6 (this includes the forthcoming OUTLAW JOSEY WALES)1980s: 91990s: 02000s: 12010s: 82020s: 3I suppose that means we'll have to seek out a Nineties film soon (perhaps 2014's POMPEII)(**).
Number of Video Game Adaptations:1 (WARCRAFT)
Number of Horror movies:15 (though it does include Sci-Fi Horror like PLANET OF THE VAMPIRES and THE MAN WITH X-RAY EYES)
Number of Disaster movies:2 (METEOR, AIRPORT)
Most-featured actor:James Stewart (because of Hitchcock)

Worst Movie Marshal Would Like Us To Review:GHOST RIDER: SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE
Number of Sean Connery films:3 (METEOR, SWORD OF THE VALIANT, MARNIE)
Number of Black & White films:7 (MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH '34, THE INNOCENTS, THE THIRD MAN, CAT PEOPLE '42, NOTORIOUS, THE MONSTER OF PIEDRAS BLANCAS, IT! THE TERROR FROM BEYOND SPACE)
Number of times we've watched WASP WOMAN:Zero

Well, now that my blog post is finished, I'm not exactly sure what my point was. I suppose it was tomention that Marshal does good work over there on his Patreon and regular website, and that Iappreciate his willingness to sit down with me and talk movies every month or so.
*It bugs the crap out of my mother that I refuse to go running until it's dark (though I probably run 10 or12 times a year in daylight, not counting up at the cabin, when I'm all alone anyway), but I just seem tohave a mental block/phobia about running while the sun is still out. Maybe it's that I'm afraid I'll be seenor mocked (which still happens a couple of times a year, the bastards), or that I just prefer darkness(matches my soul, I guess). Regardless, she's sure I'll be hit by a car and no one will see my crushedbody as it twitches its last there on the road. Probably not the *best* way to go, but still . . .

**That was a joke.

Were you one of the millions of potential viewers that skipped seeing FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS in the theater?  Well, it's still playing in a handful of theaters, and if you want to hear Marshal Latham and I talk about how good it was*, then you might want to hear our review of it, over at his Comics Cave sub-podcast.

Feel free to check it out HERE.  And, if you ever wonder why we're so behind on these kind of reviews, well, go support Marshal at his Patreon, and you can hear them a wee bit closer to release.

*Complete with spoilers, unfortunately.
Warning: if you wait for the streaming release, Galactus won't be nearly as impressive.

Rish presents Arthur C. Clarke's 1949 Sci-Fi tale, "30 Seconds - 30 Days" (later known as "Breaking Strain).

After an onboard disaster between Earth and Venus, there's only enough air for one of the two crewmembers onboard.  

If you wish to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you wish to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Dirty Seconds" Moretto.

 I went to a work party (VERY nearly typed "work Christmas party" there.  Weird) and got to interact with the other security guards all together for the first time.  We swapped stories--some of them embarrassing--and then I mentioned that in September, I've got a full day shift ahead of me, something I've never done in this job.  One of the guards said, "Don't worry about it.  The worst part is sitting on your butt for thirteen hours."  I nodded, but couldn't help myself.  "Well, you don't just sit there the whole shift, right?  I mean, you get up and do your rounds, stretch your legs every so oft--"

And he actually said, "No.  I just sit my whole shift.  Unlike you."  

Now my spider sense was prickling me.  "What do you mean, unlike m--"
And another of the guards said, "You get up and show people where the bathrooms are, help them to the ballroom.  We know how you are."*
I nodded and said, "Well, you at least exercise when you go on your rounds, right?"
And the first guy said, "No.  That's just you."
I couldn't come up with any kind of retort to that, except that I was reminded that, when I was first hired here, I was told, "You're a writer?  Oh, you'll get lots of writing done with this job."
It's possible I've been doing this wrong the whole time.



*He said it as though it was a wholly negative thing.  "Oh, you like to pretend your pillow is that girl you knew in high school, and alternate between making out with it and crying into it.  We know how you are."

If you had told me, at the end of last year, that I wouldn't even manage to put out one of my stories a month in 2025, well, I probably wouldn't have been surprised.  Disappointed, sure, but not surprised.  

But hey, here's what I managed to get out this month, a short(ish) story called "Slightly Used, Mildly Cursed."  It was born when, being too cheap to buy new floormats for my car last year, I went on Facebook Marketplace, and found a listing for mats that were "Gently used."  It amused me, because floormats tend to either get used hard or not used at all (what, do you suppose they made people take their shoes off when they got in the car?).  And I imagined other similar listings for floormats that were "Slightly soiled" or "Partially befouled" or "Mildly cursed."  And a story was born.
Big Anklevich too accepted my challenge to write a story about cursed floormats, and his tale is called "Pre-Owned," which you can buy RIGHT HERE.  My own tale, is about Jesse, a Los Angeleno whose ex-girlfriend suggests he buy new floormats, and he, being only barely less cheap than I am, picks up some five dollar mats that are both slightly used and "Mildly Cursed."  And from that point on, his luck goes south real quick.

Your luck may too take a turn for the worse, if you don't go to THIS LINK and buy the short story.
Okay, that's highly unlikely.  But no more so than me getting another tale published this month.

Rish presents his 2014 claw game story, "MagicClaw." Two brothers discover the claw game at the convenience store is more than meets the eye. Play at your own risk.

To download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

To support my hopeless efforts on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "MagicBra" Moretto.

A lady approached my desk at work and, without any approbation by me, began to tell me of her time working with the sick and dying in Ecuador years ago.  I assumed she had worked with the Salvation Army or the Peace Corps or something similar, but she started telling me about all the people she'd seen with terminal cancer, and that it was actually the CIA that was injecting people with this irreparable cancer, linked to the Covid vaccine, and that it was created in a benign-seeming lab in Saskatoon (which I have to admit I chuckled at, because it's as funny a place name as Lake Titicaca or Toad Suck, Arkansas).  When I did, her feelings were hurt and she said, "I know I sound like a nut, but I'm a truth nut!" and started to cry.  I apologized, but she wandered away, presumably to look for watch for chemtrails. 

An hour or so later, I started writing this blogpost, and she came up to me again, interrupting.  She had written up a list of her references and the experts who were speaking the truth about the impending loom of transhumanism, and told me they were "not all from the YouTube."  I guess she was not offended by me after all, and proceeded to tell me all about nanotechnology and the secret tests being run on average citizens and her son-in-law in Edmonton who does autopsies ("but is not a mortician, he's the other thing") and can always tell the difference between a dead body that's been vaccinated and one that hasn't, because of all the irregularities and abnormalities in the corpses that were "jabbed."
She really had a lot to say, but I was a) afraid of hurting her feelings, and b) a little big curious how long she could keep her rant going, since I had already decided to blog about it.  And the answer was: 
I'll never know, because after fifteen minutes, I cut her off because I was late going on my rounds (and I was worried Abe on the other side of the building would wonder what was going on at the library entrance and call me).  She clearly had more to say, but seemed to understand and/or was used to being interrupted (and disbelieved).  She gave me the paper with her notes on it and left, and I felt bad . . . but did I feel sorry for her or sorry for me?

The mean man, Rish Outfield, tells more stories about being a library security guard, including:

1. The Vomit and the Unlucky Patron
2. The Guy Who Says That The Library Is For Everyone
3. "I don't know you. Are you new here?"

If you wish to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you wish to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "The Pee Wee Kiwi" Moretto.

In college, I got a job--at least in part--due to my Sean Connery impression.*  And that's either been a back-pocket talent or a crutch ever since.  

Case in point: I've recently sat down (okay, most are standing up) and recorded Fake Sean Connery quoting pop songs for use over on Instagram, the account I made years ago and almost never use, where I wear a Connery mask and say stuff, sometimes profound, usually quite the opposite.

As of now, I have thirty-seven of the suckers recorded (though only thirty-six will be used), and I'll be posting them every day or so for the rest of the summer.  You may go over to Fake Sean's Instagram page if you'd like to play along.

In case you're interested, so far, the vast majority of songs have been from the Eighties (the absolute best decade for music, sorry, snobs), but I've tried to sprinkle in older and newer songs, just in case someone without a memory of paying double for New Releases happens upon the page.

And one of the songs I accidentally did twice, which I'll go ahead and post here, just for the novelty.

Hopefully, Real Sean would be stirred.  Not shaken.


*The owner said he called me in for an interview specifically because I put it in my resume under Skills.