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Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

930 followers 310 following 2.3K posts

Gene Hackman in Night Moves (1975). He/Him. patreon.com/jimmello

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Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Lao Che from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom holding up the antidote to the poison Indiana Jones just drank while his cronies laugh

November 10, 2025 at 10:07 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

ahem

OP skeet saying “he’s gonna post about a book he never read in 24 hours” in reference to Joyce Carol Oates accusing Elon Musk of not reading

November 10, 2025 at 7:09 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Some loose thoughts on Robert Frost’s “Christmas Trees,” and how and life are measured (or shouldn’t be measured)

November 9, 2025 at 3:17 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

so called free thinkers when they realize their wife has rich interior sexual life

Tom Cruise angrily walking down a New York street in Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut (which fucking rules)

November 8, 2025 at 8:55 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

November 8, 2025 at 3:28 AM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Homer’s author picture on the Amazon page

November 7, 2025 at 2:32 AM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Never has a man ever earned a “shut the fuck up” more

November 5, 2025 at 4:10 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

I think one of these days, hopefully soon, people will figure out that unsensible socialism eradicated housing issues, illiteracy rates, healthcare fears, and hunger in the countries in which it was practiced even if for just a time

November 5, 2025 at 1:19 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

hmm not so sure he did

Email from Spotify with the Subject: Ray Charles made you something special

November 4, 2025 at 5:23 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Wrote about baseball for the patrons recently

Text from the OPs piece. It reads:

It would have surprised me over a year ago to hear the language of baseball coming out of my mouth.

To talk about series and closers or bottom of the fifteenth extra innings. But my attraction to baseball started with language. Any language around a sub-culture is amorous by definition. It comes from love, the need to overpower inertia in order to describe something meaningful but singular.

Language is what we invent when the body is no longer enough. When precision is needed in order to relieve an urgency of feeling. I am attracted to that compulsion, its obsessive quality. It's a quality found in baseball and its fans.

November 2, 2025 at 7:16 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

November 2, 2025 at 1:13 AM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Text from OPs letter. It reads:

Donation is a necessity for research, for autoimmune disease, but there is a reason you rarely see Plasma Donor t-shirts worn by gentle fathers. Donating blood, relatively fast and simple, is altruistic. Donating plasma for the money is shameful. It is a desperate act. The poor are here for the harvest, and in the harvesting, they rarely seed the means of escape from poverty. A for-profit society can only reduce the individual, even if the profit is adjacent to something collectively good. If you value time, appraise hours, minutes, seconds like precious stones, to mark an hour in which the body must occupy a specific time and place for a sell price will always feel too high. Even at larger amounts. To see the number you sell your life for is to take the human spirit, delicate as a single grape, and crush it with a stone.

There is something anti-life about this. There is a world where plasma donation is normal because it is necessary and people are educated on its necessity and why they should donate freely if they can, and not as a desperate, shameful act to make sure your kids have food on the table or you won't fall behind on your car payments and lose your means to go to work in the first place. I read something the other day that referred to plasma donation as a "booming industry." The boom here relies on the desperation of the poor. The boom here derives from the terror of not being able to live. The boom sounds like a form of war-profiteering because it is.

October 26, 2025 at 2:54 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Goodnight to the kid reading Sartre’s No Exit from Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives only

Girl sleeping in her bunk with Sartre’s No Exit on her chest

October 23, 2025 at 4:17 AM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

That time again

A picture of the opening page of Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree. It reads:

Chapter 1

It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state. There wasn't so much wilderness around you couldn't see the town. But on the other hand there wasn't so much town you couldn't see and feel and touch and smell the wilderness. The town was full of trees. And dry grass and dead flowers now that autumn was here. And full of fences to walk on and sidewalks to skate on and a large ravine to tumble in and yell across. And the town was full of...

Boys.

And it was the afternoon of Halloween.
And all the houses shut against a cool wind.
And the town full of cold sunlight.
But suddenly, the day was gone.
Night came out from under each tree and spread.

October 22, 2025 at 10:11 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

This moment always tears me up

Scene from Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith when Obi-Wan is monologue at a guy who is burning alive

October 22, 2025 at 5:48 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Mellody Hobson reveals the moment she knew her husband George Lucas was ‘the one’

George Lucas walks through the shot of a documentary being filmed

October 20, 2025 at 10:16 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

they cozy maxed Gregor Samsa

Cover of a printing of ‘The Metamorphosis’ by Franz Kafka with the main character cockroach looking real cozy under his bedspread

October 20, 2025 at 8:03 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Copy from OP’s post about baseball which reads:

Baseball games come sporadically in October, with the few warm days left in the year, when the last bit of summer is in the sun. It makes sense for the summer game to end when the sun is no longer taking its time to set and stretching the evenings out in a perfect red splendor and perfuming the night with day temperature.
The game must go when it goes.
There is some poetry in that. A simple rhyming of time, place, action that falls in line with the organized stanzas and couplets we all live within, which everything lives within. Baseball finds itself perfect in both space and time.

I like that there are so many games it begins to not matter how close you pay attention. One hundred and sixty-two regular season games played day after day, unhurried. There is time for everything in a season like that. You can look away and fall in love and come back, and the game is still there. It allows for failure. It does not demand perfection, and because of this malleability, when perfection does slide in, it comes matter-of-factly.

Without decorum, the same as life. The game surprises you because you forget it is beautiful. It is no movement followed by all movement, a fluidity of lines that start with a Newtonian reaction on the field and trace themselves with a casual finger, always, back home.

October 19, 2025 at 3:17 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

so called ska haters when the cranberries drop a third wave horn breakdown at the end of the song “Salvation”

October 11, 2025 at 7:05 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

future wife finding the ranking I made of LEGO sets by which ones I think I could conceivably ingest without going to the hospital

Shelley Duvall finding what Jack Nicholson has been writing in the typewriter in The Shining

October 11, 2025 at 2:42 PM

Jim McRib

@jimmello.bsky.social

Years and years of Democrats militarizing a police force to score points with people who actively hate them and to support a system that ultimately finds them disposable working out really well