In the pages of the Los Angeles Times
Dan Neil has started his popular culture column.
March 6: "At places where high viaducts crisscross, such as the interchange at the I-15 and I-10 in Ontario, you can't see the bridges in the dark, and the few cars appear to be flying in stately progress across the sky."
March 13: "After all, this is a one-shtick reptile: Wade ashore on the mainland, snap a few high-voltage power lines, bear up under the awesome firepower of the miniature tanks. Not to mention that Godzilla is, well, a confirmed bachelor. He's a press agent's nightmare."
March 20: "There is a choreography to all this, even a kind of ritual: Inevitably, men baptize themselves with a little seawater on the backs of their necks and steal a glance at the sun, as if getting their bearings in a world that's just gotten a lot bigger. Is this a mannerism we've picked up from some old movie? Did Gary Cooper rub water on his neck just so? Did Balboa do the same?"
I'm not quite sure what to think.
The column feels somewhat like the country mouse to his auto column's city mouse. Or, maybe more accurately, Horace as the country mouse. Modern tellings like to put the mice and their homes on near-even ground, but the Roman poet — who originates the tale — sides clearly with the country mouse. That mouse gets the last word, and it's a swipe at the city. Owning a country villa himself, Horace sings of its advantages time and time again in his Odes. Not a whole lot happens at the villa, but he enjoys his time and writes well there. Whether I want that mindset in a newspaper column, I don't yet know.
