Michael Leonberger

Friend for the Future

In the book Financially Fearless (which I am reading because I am a cliched twenty-something without any clue about how to manage my finances, TV-Sitcom-Stereotype, natch!), Alexa von Tobel posits that you have to think of your future self as a friend. You’ll only save for the future, she says,…

Happy New Year (I Hope It’s Not Too Late)

It’s deep winter, a new year, and I’d like to leave you something warm. I was going to pound out some diatribe about political correctness. About how kindness is not censorship, about how being conscientious is not the same as being cowardly, about the validity of social justice. And, in…

The Amazing Spidey Fridge Logic

In 2012’s The Amazing Spider-Man, Peter Parker has a poster of Rear Window hanging in his room. So Web-Head knows a thing or two about movies. He might know, for example, that long-time Hitchcock collaborator Bernard Hermann didn’t score Rear Window, which is noteworthy because he scored Vertigo, North by…

Therapy TV

(Author’s Note: I originally wrote a version of this article for a website called “Sucker Punch Cinema” that is now very much deceased. But it was a lovely place, I assure you, run by movie nuts whose cinematic obsessions would probably make junkies blanch. Because I spent the last article…

Bad Ghosts, Electric Graveyard

Text messaging and internet chatting has turned us all into Frankensteins. The goal is to emulate real life, to as closely approximate real-life conversation as we possibly can, even though we all understand that (at least on our end), either we’re blowing through these things (“lol what u want from…

Cruising for an Intergalactic Bruising

Facebook, that helpful hubbub of information, told me that we can all finally stop holding our breaths: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the Star Wars cruise is finally happening! (Seriously: no more breath holding! You need oxygen in your brain so you can read. And also be alive!) I…

Make the Next Legal U-Turn

Every time I stop at a red light, my GPS thinks I’ve fallen off the face of the earth. Disappeared. Gone. Vanished. Bye-bye. Worse, it tries to correct the problem of my disappearance by telling me to do random things. “In 500 feet, turn left on Maple Wood Drive.” “In…

Pan-Tastic!

Dear reader, welcome! Welcome to the pulse of Millennial America. I think I’ve figured out our schtick. What separates us from those who’ve come before. The wind in our sails, what’s gonna power us into the future. Maybe even inspire those kids who come after us (that’s right, we’re gonna…

Rise of the Machines

American human beings hate their hands and it’s killing me. More to the point: modern Americans would rather wave their hands in front of a sensor than use their digits to open, say, a toilet lid. Or a trash can. Or even turn on a faucet. All in the name…

Mileygram

My first girlfriend was a girl named Sara. We’d sit in the preschool hallways, hold hands, and sing “Nightmare Before Christmas” songs to each other. We might have kissed, but I’m not sure and I somehow doubt it. My greatest ambition in life at that time was to marry this…