You can always find a bit of synchronicity if you look hard enough. Also known as the Forer Effect.

Anyway, there were aluminum bats: D recounts his tale of some random Filipino guy threatening him and his cousin with an aluminum bat. His description of the guy makes me think of a tweaker. Or a guy who is ready to run amok. (OK, I admit it. I carry an aluminum bat in the trunk of my car. ‘Cause you never know.) And then there was the guy beating on Ben Stiller with an aluminum bat in the movie.

And there were straight edge razors: I have this gnarly scab on my neck from where I shaved too close with a dull, disposable razor. Me and D started to get talking about straight edge razors. My uncle, who is a barber, has one, and it’s a pretty neat way to get a shave, although I’m not sure my skin could handle doing it chronically.

In any case, ”Sweeney Todd” starring Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter is coming out by the end of the year. I can’t wait.

The fact that both Helena Bonham Carter and Alan Rickman are in the movie made me think of Harry Potter. (I wonder who is going to play Gregorovitch and Grindelwald in the last installment?) Hearing Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter speak with English accents makes me imagine “Pirates of the Caribbean” mashed up with “Order of the Phoenix.” (Is Alan Rickman the only real Brit in the movie?)

And finally: the first 20 minutes of the movie “The Heartbreak Kid.” The panoramic shots of S.F. were murdering me, especially juxtaposed with going to the wedding of an ex, and the pressure to settle down and get married. Lord have mercy. The overhead shots of Altamont Pass on the way to Southern California got to me too. And then the movie descended into all-out lunacy. Nothing particularly original (unsurprising since it is a remake), but I laughed my ass off. Naturally, since the movie has Carlos Mencia in it, they have to insert some mention of a donkey show. And the Farrelly Brothers seem oh-so very fond of displaying disturbingly abnormal genitalia and their environs. I love it.

Too true, too true. It just goes to show that life is all about timing. There is no such thing as “meant to be.” And when your timing sucks, like mine does, the only thing left to do is wait. And if you’re lucky, time will run out sooner rather than later.

(And to think, in some cultures, wishing someone a long, happy life with a quick, painless death is considered a foul curse. When my time comes, I just hope it doesn’t drag out for too long. All I ask for is a sturdy large bore IV with morphine running through it as fast as it can.)

Here’s to giving up completely, once and for all, and to embracing utter defeat, and to not giving a damn.