Hello, LA

I’m in LA, staying at that most LA of LA hotels, the Westin Bonaventure. I’m here not five minutes, literally on the elevator ride up to my room, when a total stranger turns to me and says “it’s like being sucked into the 70s, isn’t it?” Well, yes. Yes, that’s kind of the point. Now I’m ensconced in my wedged-shaped room looking out at downtown LA, and everything is groovy. No In-N-Out for me tonight (I have an actual, official dinner to go to, to which I may even wear a tie), but soon. Oh, yes. Soon.

Yay! LA! It’s always nice to be home.

Book to Film

Before I submit myself to the gaping maw of O’Hare International Airport, devourer of men, allow me to link you over to this week’s column over at AMC, which provides three reasons (but not the only three reasons) why the film of your favorite science fiction book is generally nothing like the book you love. You’ve always wanted to know, and I’ve always wanted to tell you. As ever, feel free to leave comments there; lots of comments make me look good in the eyes of my AMC overlords.