I don't know what I was expecting from a film called "Autism: The Musical." It was just a title that attracted my attention, even as a dark-humored part of me wanted to suggest that it should be a rock opera to better accomodate all the head-banging. Yeah, yeah, I know. Elaine Hall founded the Miracle Project to use her theater-directing skills to enhance the journey that began when she found out her adopted son Neal was autistic. The miracle project is designed to help autistic kids express themselves through music, dance, and acting, which I started off being very skeptical of.

My remote died the other day, a loss which I realize would not generally occasion the tone that my fake boyfriend Keith Olbermann might use to eulogize fixture of Negro League baseball Buck O' Neill or anything like that.
It bugs me though, because I'm feeling kind of helpless this week and like my plans tend to count for nothing, and it's hard enough to cope with the fact that my idea of excitement in the bedroom is knowing that King of The Hill is on Adult Swim at eleven. If I were able-bodied, I'd like to think I'd hardly notice, and the truth is, if I got magically cured today, I probably wouldn't for a day or two, just because I'd be standing up and sitting down randomly(Because it's there!) or running gratuitous showers