Category Archives: My Life


It was 20 years ago today that I sat down at the computer in my office — which back then was the spare bedroom — and typed out the first RRoy Report. It started out as a weekly email and then eventually transformed into whatever it is now.

That first report went out to 9 people, half family and half friends — I have no idea where 2 of those people are anymore. The first review was “There’s Something About Mary,” in which I referred to Cameron Diaz as Gwyneth Paltrow. From the very beginning it was clear that I needed an editor.

But we’re not here for a history lesson. If you want that, go to the “About” page. No, I need some other way to mark this inauspicious occasion.

At first I thought about throwing a party, but then it hit me: Why am I always having to throw my own damn parties?

Then I thought about writing about how the RRReport has changed my life and made it so much better and all the money and opportunities that came out of it. But then that would be a lie and the truth is more depressing and who wants to focus on that?

Finally, I figured I would just take this opportunity — in this age of divisiveness and negativity — to just say thanks. After all, I don’t know that this will still be going for the 25th anniversary and I’m damn sure I’ll be dead before this reaches 30, so it’s now or never.

And what better and more pompous way to say thank you, than with a fake awards ceremony. Which is sure to be the only kind of awards ceremony I will ever be taking part in.

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Cameron Diaz: Welcome back to the 2018 Blogger Awards and Hall of Fame ceremony! And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Winner of this year’s Blogger of the Year and Hall of Fame inductee for 2018…a man who needs no introduction.

stunned look. looks around. hugs wife. accepts the accolades of those sitting nearby. slowly stumbles to the podium…

Thank you, Gwyneth. Let me begin by thanking the members of the academy, the Hollywood foreign press, and the Hall of Fame selection committee. Like Ron Swanson, I do not believe in awards — but I did enjoy the pre-awards pie.

First, and most obvious, I would like to thank my parents for making me possible. I suppose for completeness sake I should also thank their parents and so on back down through the annals of time, but that’s a bit much.

Thanks to the Stockton Junior High Band for making me their boy reporter back in 1975 and setting me off on this trajectory.

Thanks to the University of Missouri School of Journalism for being in Missouri. If it had been somewhere out of state I probably wouldn’t have gone there.

Thanks to Chris Duggan for suggesting me for the entertainment editor gig at the Journal when he moved on. Thanks to Jim O’Neil for giving me the job even though I suspect there were many other more qualified people.

Thanks to my sisters, for their loyal support and for keeping all the early reports on their computers, all filed away for easy retrieval. Once I hit “send,” I was done with it. Now, if I need to find something I wrote about the Walnut Festival in 2003, Cindy can find it within minutes.

Thanks to my brother, because, well, I just thanked my sisters and my parents and I don’t want him to feel left out. Hmmm, I got it. Thanks for inheriting all the good genes and leaving me with the writing one.

Thanks to Jeff and Rachel Peine for setting me up at when we moved the report from being a weekly email to a blog. And thanks to for making it easy to do this and not charging me for it.

Thanks to the good people at Allied Integrated Marketing, the Fabulous Fox Theatre, and the wonderful Julie Lally for not taking me off the mailing list and letting me stay in the game.

Thanks to the 116 friends of the RRReport’s Facebook page. Especially the 46 people that I am not Facebook friends with.

Why is there music playing? Shut that crap off! I’m not through yet! I will cut you!

Thanks to my most loyal Facebook fans, Joel Bowerman and Ann Hein. If I post something and they don’t like it, either (a) I’ve written something terribly bad, or (b) it didn’t show up in their newsfeed.

Thanks to Jan O’Brien for ignoring that we quit doing the RRoy Report Holiday Gift Drive about 10 years ago.

Thanks to everyone who subbed here over the years, whether through RRoy Report Idol or simply because I asked you to cover for me.

Thanks all my friends and family who have found themselves — willingly or not — the subject of a report. I know a time or two (or more) I wrote something that hurt someone’s feelings. My apologies. That was not my intent, sometimes my sarcastic wit does not go over well. But I think for the most part you enjoyed the attention.

Finally, I want to thank the two people who have spent the most time having their lives misinterpreted by The RRReport — The Wife and The Son. Your support, and the fact that you haven’t killed me — or at least broken my fingers — is a large part of how this thing has kept going this long.

Is the mic still on?

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 Post Script

Why do I write? A simple question. Some do it for money, or so I’ve heard, and some do it for fame and glory, or so I’ve heard. Most, I suspect, do it for the attention. Nobody writes unless they want somebody to read, unless you’re writing in your diary. And even then, you probably want somebody to read it after you die.

When I got laid off in 2009 I was pretty sure that would be the end of The RRReport. What was I going to write about– sitting on the couch watching “That ’70s Show” reruns while cursing Lee Enterprises? That Sunday I had to sit down at the computer and let everyone know what had happened and what it would likely mean for our weekly one-sided chats.

It was a dark time, believe me. Everyone was sympathetic and supportive, but then you expect that of your family and friends. I had pretty much lost the will to go on writing. And then this showed up in my inbox:

Hi Ron,
No, you don’t know me. 
I’m part of the underground to whom your sister sends your work.
She started sending me the RROY REPORT when your mom died and you wrote your Random Thoughts article.  I’d like to tack something dignified to the end of my name to let you believe that someone with clout said these next words to you, but truth is, I’m just a regular kinda gal. 
After I read your Random Thoughts, and quit crying because I don’t cry and I was afraid someone would see me, I marveled at the expertise in your writing.  I teach high school English and Comp I and Comp II at a Community College (college, by the way, is where you belong as a teacher).  Three things came out of your Random Thoughts writing.
1) I started my own Random Thoughts about my mom who has had Alzheimers for 13 years.  She used to be mean.  She developed Alzheimers.  Now she’s meaner. So, my Random Thoughts are my positive way of connecting with a mom who tolerated more than loved me.  I love the mom of my Random Thoughts.  I read her life, and I can understand why she is mean.  I even took out the part when she tried to kill me by choking me.  It didn’t sound right, and I escaped and survived anyway.  You gave me some pretty dog-gone good therapy.
2) I fessed up to Teresa that I assign my college Comp I students an assignment to focus on one person in their lives and write Random Thoughts.  They’re still beginners, so nothing has even been in the same league, let alone ballpark, with your writing.  But it gets them to thinking.  They don’t have the coherence and the “wrap” with which you write.  Ah, but the neophytes get a chance to try their hand at something they can’t plagiarize.
3) Humph…I really did think of three things, but I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if I can remember what the third thing was…
I do hope you don’t stop writing.  I miss Far Side cartoons, and I’ll miss your cynical yet poignant writing.  Sometimes I worry that humor is a dying breed here in the USofA.  So, for now, I’ll go back to my Animal Farm and Crucible (Can you believe I have juniors in class who don’t have a handle on who Marilyn Monroe was?  If they can’t understand the Kazan-Miller-Monroe age of McCarthyism, why should I teach The Crucible!!!??). 
Tell Teresa to start up the underground mailings again when you relocate.  I’ll be waiting.
Brenda Heller


If you have ever enjoyed anything I’ve written these past 9 years you should probably thank Brenda Heller, whoever she is, because she pulled me out of the abyss.

And that is why I write.



A RRoy Report Special Report: Ronnie and Laurie’s Chicago Adventure, Part II

Thirty years is a long time to live with someone. Especially if that someone is me.

My brother joined the military to get out of sharing a room with me. My parents only had to put up with me for 18 years. I went through 9 college roommates. My son has been with me 27 years, but he really doesn’t have a say in it.

Laurie has lived with me for three decades. Of her own free will, for the most part. So I was determined to give her a fun-filled weekend in Chicago, where she could do everything she wanted.

Even if it killed me.

And it almost did.

Day 1

The flight from St. Louis to Chicago was mercifully short and largely uneventful. The first ordeal was the hike from our terminal gate to the train station — roughly 5 miles while carrying a carry-on. (because if it has wheels, it ain’t a carry-on – you idiots! Stop cramming the overhead bins with your oversized suitcases!)

After 45+ minutes on the train, we arrived in downtown Chicago where it was another roughly 2 miles walk from the train stop to the hotel while carrying a carry-on. (Laurie will tell you my mileage estimates are out of whack, but we all know how she likes to exaggerate).

By the time we reached the hotel room I was exhausted, but no sooner had a put down my bag than L was ready to go. First stop: Architectural boat ride. I was actually in favor of this because (a) It wasn’t too far from the hotel and (b) you sit while you ride the boat. It was a nice, leisurely boat ride and we learned a lot about the buildings and history of Chicago. All of which I have since forgot.

chicago8Afterwards I was given the choice of going up into the Willis Tower or the Hancock Building. I didn’t care. We did our usual hemming and hawing for about 30 minutes and agreed on the Willis Tower. We walked and walked until we realized we didn’t know where we were going. So we turned around and walked toward the Hancock building. Tall buildings are much closer than they actually appear. We eventually got there, bought our CityPass which would get us through the weekend, went up the the observation floor, observed, went back down and ate at a nearby pizza joint.

Meanwhile… Andrew, Cindy and Chuck are playing Uno, hanging out at the pool and eating pizza.


Day 2 

Did I mention everything in Chicago is expensive? One way to beat the expense is to buy a CityPass, which will get you into 5 attractions for the low, low price of $100-and -something. If you do 3 things you’ve recouped your money. But why stop at 3 when you can do all 5, right? So what if all 5 attractions are spread out across town?

Now, a rational person would say you cannot do 3 museums and a skyscraper in one day. But a rational person has never met Laura Thielmeier Roy.

After a quick hotel breakfast (which would have to see us through to dinner because lunch is not on the agenda) we began the long trek to the Field Museum. In the rain. We have a half-dozen umbrellas at home, I don’t believe we’ve paid for any of them, but none of them were in Chicago. So we stopped and bought an umbrella at the CVS a few doors down and began the long trek to the Field Museum.

We were originally going back to see Sue, but sadly received word that she was being moved. The good news was she was being moved to make way for Maximo the Titanosaur — the largest dinosaur ever to walk the earth (until they find a newer, bigger one).



Had a nice visit with Max. Watched a movie about Sue. Walked through the dinosaur exhibit and found Sue hanging out in her new, unfinished, digs. Walked through the Mummy exhibit. Tried to take a selfie with Max, but it was a disaster.


A short walk across the street to the Shedd Aquarium. We had been there before, and it doesn’t have dinosaurs, so we didn’t stay too long. The octopus was cool and we enjoyed watching the Beluga whales. I’ve been in better aquariums, to be honest.

Next was the long trek to the Chicago Art Institute. You gets to see dinosaurs, you gots to see Renoir. There was a long line of people waiting to get in. Do these people know this is an art museum? With our wonderful CityPass we did not have to wait in line like the tourists.

My oh my, but that building was overflowing with art. Rooms full of Monets and Van Goghs and all your other Impressionist favorites. In other words: Laurie Heaven. We eventually made our way to the modern art wing where they had several Warhols for L to admire as well.


I had begun to despair of their being anything of interest at the Chicago Art Institute when I found the weaponry and armor exhibit. So it wasn’t a total waste of most of the afternoon.


By roughly 4 p.m. we had had all the culture we could stand, so we began the long trek back to the hotel. I was given a roughly hour reprieve before we would head out for dinner and our final stop of the day — Willis Tower. This time we got directions.

I don’t remember the name of the place where we agreed to eat but it was right next door to a comic book shop! I swear to God I  did not plan that. Comic book shops were not on the agenda, but hey, if there’s one right next door to your restaurant you have to stop in, right?

During dinner we watched the Belmont Stakes which was a fun thing to do in a pub atmosphere. I started to feel a bit woozy and retired to the restroom. Upon my return Laurie noticed I was all pale and that I had indeed walked myself to near death. She wanted to go back to the hotel but there was no turning back now. I would see this through to the Willis Tower even if it killed me. Surprisingly, I got my second wind or something after we left the restaurant and I made the hike with minimal complaining (minimal for me).

There was an insane line to get up into the tower. Which we avoided with our pass. (Hint: Get that CityPass — it doesn’t just save you money, it saves you hours). We got up to the top and it was pretty much like the Hancock Building. There’s some kind of setup at Willis where you can stand out and it looks like your suspended in air but the line to do so was outrageous so we punted that and eventually made our way back to the hotel.

Meanwhile… Andrew, Cindy and Chuck are playing Uno, shopping on Main Street, eating chicken strips, and not shaving.


Sadly, his rugged, unshaved look did not survive long once Laurie got home.

Day 3

The original plan was for us to go for a walk to the Navy Pier before our flight at noon, but that was not destined to be. Gotta save something for next time. In, say, another three decades.


– 30 –

A RRoy Report Special Report: Ronnie and Laurie’s Chicago Adventure

Part 1: Before You Go

A couple of months back Laurie went to Chicago for a meeting. She came back all excited about the city and determined that we should go there soon and play tourist.

We had been to Chicago once before. Once. It was many years ago when Andrew was young and autism was something we were still getting used to. We went to see Sue the T-Rex at the Field Museum and that went well. In fact, the trip went well for the most part until it didn’t. We never returned.


But that was many years ago and many travels since. Still, vacationing with autism is never really vacationing — or rather, it’s never really relaxing. You are constantly on your guard for when things are going to go bad. Most of the time things never go bad, but you don’t know that in advance, and I am The Worrier King, so I’m always expecting the worst. This can be a real drain on your fun.

So, I start thinking that wouldn’t it be nice to go on a long weekend trip without autism. What would that be like? I can’t remember. Oh sure, like all young parents in the beginning we had no trouble dropping the boy off with Nana when we wanted to travel. But unlike other parents, our child never got old enough to take care of himself while Nana eventually reached the point where she couldn’t watch him anymore. So we haven’t vacationed without autism in years.

Plus, Chicago is expensive. Nothing is free and nothing is cheap. Why spend an extra $$$ for museum admission for someone who doesn’t care? What would it be like to go to a restaurant and not worry about if they serve chicken strips?

I decided we were going to make this trip without Andrew. But how? Can’t leave him at a kennel for 3 days. Can’t ask the neighbors to come over twice a day and feed him. No, this would require finding someone willing to come to the house and stay for a few days with no strings attached.

Enter Sister2.

It wasn’t always easy living with Sister2. Sister1 was caring, looked after baby brother, bought him his first X-Man comic. Sister2 and I fought over everything — control of the TV (when Dad wasn’t around), who got the most Coke (we had to share a bottle in those days), we fought over e v e r y t h i n g.

But then Cindy went off to college and came back a changed person. She was all about family. There is nothing she will not do for her family. There is not a niece or nephew she will not spoil rotten.

She was the perfect patsy. I mean, the perfect person to come spend quality time with Andrew.

I dropped her an email and she agreed immediately and enthusiastically. I don’t know that she consulted first with husband Chuck, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered. He would be a good sport about it, as is the way with the men in our family.

Laurie was shocked and upset that I would ask such a thing of my sister, but she got over it pretty quick and was soon making all kinds of plans for our big weekend.


Coming Up: Be careful what you wish for

Duet: A Star Wars Story (kinda) III

Episode 3: More Margaritas

It’s long been established that I have a pretty great family. Any normal family would’ve tossed me in a sinkhole on the back 40 and covered it in brush many years ago and simply moved on with their lives.

So when the word came down that Chris would not be taking me to the comic book shop in Oklahoma City on Free Comic Book Day because his son had a T-Ball game (If you don’t appreciate the irony here then you don’t know the players involved), the rest of the family offered to step in and get me there.

But you know me. I don’t want to inconvenience people. I’d much rather complain. Plus, it’s already been a too long weekend of traveling and I don’t want to add a drive to OKC to that, especially since I don’t know where it is or how long it will take to get there and back. I figure let’s just get to Bartlesville where we’ll be spending the night and maybe there will be a comic book store there I can hit up.

“Oh, but first we’re going to stop in Pawhuska for a late lunch at the Pioneer Woman Mercantile.”

Wait. What?

I did not sign up for a side trip to the Pioneer Woman Mercantile. This is not — in any way, shape or form — how anyone should be spending Free Comic Book Day. I’m confident that the Pioneer Woman Mercantile does not offer comic books — free or for sale. Did they even have comic books in pioneer days? I doubt it. It’s the reason all those pioneers were so unhappy.

Another 4-to-6 hour trek in the van and we arrive in Pawhuska. The plan was to get there around 3 p.m. and there would be no line. The plan went awry. There was a line out the door to get into the restaurant. The wait for a table was 2 hours. I don’t eat lunch at 5 p.m. so we agreed to just continue on to Bartlesville. But not until we had shopped first, of course.


I did a quick search of the building, did not find comic books, and went upstairs to the couches until the shoppers were finished. My wife found a lovely container with a cow drawn on it that we now keep our coffee in.

As we continued on for the 45-minute-to-1-hour excursion to Bartlesville, someone realized that it was Cinco de Mayo, and maybe we should go to a Mexican place to eat. If someone had realized that earlier in the day we could’ve avoided the whole odyssey to Pawhuska. I don’t believe Pioneer Woman serves burritos, even if you could get a seat.

An hour later we were in B-ville where we found a nice Mexican joint that could easily accommodate the 11 of us. They even had the Kentucky Derby on the big screen TV.

“I’ll have a pitcher of margaritas. And a chimichanga.”

By the time we left the restaurant all the stress and anxiety of the weekend had been washed away. We even found a gaming shop in town that was participating in FCBD, so after dropping off the family at Sister1’s house, the sisters and I made the drive across town to Paper Games.

It was your typical gamer/comic shop. They had the free books out on a table. Since it was late the guy said take as many as you like. The Marvel books were gone but that was OK since I knew they’d be available online in a week or so. I got a decent stack and even bought a comic to show I’m not a total leech. Mission finally accomplished.

The next morning we ate some delicious breakfast pizzas and hit the road. In case you were wondering, my phone was indeed embedded in the recliner cushions. And the cats hadn’t gnawed on it.



Duet: A Star Wars Story (kinda) II

Episode 2: The Other Royal Wedding

The nuptials were to take place Friday night in El Reno, Oklahoma. Sister2 had rented a van so she and her husband, brother and his wife, and Laurie, Andrew and myself could spend the entire 4-to-6 hour drive together. I figured it was probably more 6 hours than 4 and that I was being given that range in an attempt to keep me from complaining. Like that would ever work.

32416441_10103783233242394_7793363590479609856_nBefore leaving home I put together a collection of harmless, classic rock CDs that I figured would appeal to everyone. As the trip began people wouldn’t stop talking, but I figured even this group couldn’t go 4-to-6 hours of continuous talking, and that all my hard work in putting my CDs together would not go to waste. We eventually discovered that our rental van had satellite radio and, after much searching, settled on the “classic rewind” station.


Now, when I travel, I don’t mess around. Get there, and then you can go to the bathroom. When you travel with others, you have to put up with their ways. We stop at a rest stop and as we’re getting back on the road, I realize I don’t have my phone. I go back in the rest stop and look around to no avail. I’ve probably left it back at the house where it probably fell out of my pocket while sitting on the recliner. Happens all the time. Still, I don’t know for sure so I’m going to worry about this for the next 2 days.

We arrive at our hotel in Edmond, OK. Everyone wants to go visit the family at Niece2’s house, but I figure after 4-to-6 hours in the back of a van, someone deserves some pool time.

It’s a 45 minute-to-1 hour drive from Edmond to El Reno, because we haven’t done enough driving for one day. As we go through the 45th toll booth of the day, I decide that when I return home I’m going to write to my state legislator and demand that we enact a new law require the state highway patrol to pull over every vehicle that comes through Missouri with Oklahoma license plates and fine them. A large fine. And every time an Oklahoman drives past a state trooper, they should be fined.

When we arrive it turns out the main drag is closed off and there is a loud rock band playing. Turns out the wedding is competing with El Reno’s annual Hamburger Festival. A Hamburger Festival. Now we’re talking. We have 600 festivals every year in St. Charles but not one is a Hamburger Festival. I need to talk to the Chamber of Commerce.

32458570_10103783249664484_7000252666152484864_nThe wedding site was decorated in a variety of nerd stuff — Star Wars, Game of Thrones, Dr. Who, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings…everything but superheroes. How can you be so nerdy yet leave out the greatest of nerdy things?

The Hamburger Festival had agreed to put the band on hold for the 30 minutes it would take for the ceremony. Of course, ceremonies never start on time so the band started kicking in the jams just in time for the minister (who happened to be the groom’s brother) to have to shout the final prayer.

It was a lovely, and very nerdy, affair. The little ones were dressed as hobbits, the minister was dressed as Dr. Who, pop culture references were abundant. I didn’t understand many of them but I suspect I was not alone.


The post-wedding dinner spread was pretty awesome. There was pulled pork and chicken, various fruits and vegetables, mac and cheese, and baked beans. And best of all, no waiting for your table to be called. Just get in line, eat, get back in line. The way God intended wedding receptions to be.

All in all, a good night. Nice ceremony, good food, enjoyable evening with the family. Yep, nothing could go wrong.

“Hey, sorry I won’t be able to take you to the comic book shop tomorrow. It’s George’s first T-Ball game in the morning so we gotta be heading home.”

Wait. What?

Coming Up:

Episode 3: The Pioneer Woman Menace




Duet: A Star Wars Story (kinda)

Episode 1: No, it’s still not OK to get married on Free Comic Book Day 

A couple of months back we got a postcard in the mail. It was one of those “save the date” cards informing us of our nephew’s upcoming wedding. When did “save the date” cards become a thing?

Take it from one who knows: Save your money. If someone wants to come to your event, they will come. If they don’t, they won’t, no matter how much advance notice you give them. Every 5 years in November I call together the Joelfest Planning Committee and we decide on a date for the festival — usually in June. In December I include an invitation with all my Christmas cards. On January 1, I make an event page on Facebook and invite everyone else.

Now that’s 6 months notice. You would think that would be plenty of time for everyone to clear their schedules, make plane and hotel reservations, rent a car, and show up with a big, freaking smile on their face. And like I said, those who care put forth that effort, but everyone else does not. So, “save the date” cards — waste of time.

But I digress…

The invitation was for May The Fourth. I didn’t think anything of it and then The Wife says, “Isn’t that Free Comic Book Day weekend?”

I have never been equal parts proud and disgusted at the same time as I was right at that moment. Proud in that my wife had realized — even before I did —  that this was Free Comic Book Day weekend. She’s come a long way in 30 years of living with me.

Disgusted in that — once again — someone has decided to ruin the happiest day of the year with their marriage. Now, those of you who are new around here are probably thinking “Surely this isn’t that big of a problem. How often could this happen?”

Plenty. This is the fourth time this has happened. It became such a thing that after the third time I actually wrote an appeal about it. You can read it here:

In fact, read it now. I’ll wait. Even if you read it when it was originally published, it wouldn’t hurt to go back for a refresher course.

Now you may be saying, “You wrote that 8 years ago, your nephew’s fiance probably never saw it.” Probably not. And they probably thought having a nerd-theme wedding on Star Wars Day was a clever idea. Probably.


But that’s the problem. You see, people who plan weddings always think it’s all about them — they never look at the bigger picture, like how will it impact me?

You see, I live in the St. Louis metropolitan area. It’s not the greatest city in the world. It’s got a free zoo and an arch, and that’s about all they can brag about. But one good thing I will say about St. Louis is that it has an unusually high number of comic book stores given the size of the population. (You could argue that St. Louis needs so many fantasy shops because the people live in St. Louis, but I won’t go there.)

So once a year I get up, put on my Hawkeye cosplay, leave autism at home with The Wife, and drive from shop to shop, checking out my fellow nerds, looking over the merchandise, picking up some free stuff. Halfway through I stop at St. Louis Gyro for lunch, then I make a couple more stops before I go home and collapse on the bed with a stack of comics. When the time is right I look up and watch the Derby.

Do I do it for the comics? Lord, no. Most Free Comic Book Day comics are crap — the publishers just use them as promotional items instead of telling an entertaining story. It’s about having a day to myself, driving all over St. Louis checking out the shops — most of which I only visit once a year — living life on my own schedule, and did I mention it’s 100 percent autism-free?

I quickly jump on the computer to fire off an angry email to my sister.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got it taken care of. Chris is going to take you to this shop in Oklahoma City where they do all kinds of cool stuff.”

Hmm, maybe this won’t be a disaster.

Coming Up:

Episode 2: The T-Ball Strikes Back


Now You See Me…

NOTE: The following fake conversation contains spoilers for Deadpool 2. You have been warned. Although if you haven’t seen it by now, I really have no sympathy.

So I’m sitting at home watching “Evil Genius” when the phone rings.



“It’s been a while.”

“Has it?”

“Are you proud of me?”

“Why would I be proud of you, Pitt?”

“I’m a Marvel superhero!”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you see ‘Deadpool 2?’ I’m the Vanisher!”

“Uh, first of all, the Vanisher is not a hero — he’s a villain. Second, that was a Fox Marvel movie, so it doesn’t really count. It is a good movie, though.”

“Man, I didn’t realize there were so many nerd rules.”

“Hey man, I don’t make the rules.”

“So, are you going to the class reunion?”

“What class reunion? Waitaminnut, you never even finished college.”

“Yeah, just kiddin’. Hey, remember that night when you, me, Crow and Garrett got busted for smoking dope on the steps of Jesse Hall? Good times.”

“Heh. I told some people at work about that. They said I was lying.”

“Well, you were a different person back then.”

“Well, it was the ’80s.”

“Say, Roy, is Laurie there?”

“Sorry Pitt, she’s busy mowing the lawn.”

“Tell her I called.”

“I’ll think about it. Oh, Pitt…”

“Yes, Roy?”

“I really did like it when you got electrocuted.”