Logan’s Run, starring me

In William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson’s classic book, “Logan’s Run,” citizens in the year 2016 weren’t allowed to live past the age of 21.  Once residents of the novel’s dystopian world hit that age marker, they had a choice:  Either be voluntarily euthanized, or “run” to “Sanctuary.”  The crystal embedded into each person’s palm, their “lifeflower,” turned black once the time hit “legal drinking age o’clock.” 

I bring this up because my birthday is tomorrow–and it’s a pretty big one, from what people tell me. I look at this birthday as my “Logan’s Run” moment, when my lifeflower goes black.  (It should be noted that, unlike the characters in Logan’s Run, I’m not turning 21.  I’m gratefully distant from the jackassery that was that was that period of my life, thankyouverymuch).

Of course, the weight of this birthday is only as dramatic as I make it.  Age is just a number, and sometimes a reality check is all I need.  Am I happy? Yes.  Gainfully employed? Yes.  Well then, shame on me for assigning any drama to this birthday, let alone writing about it.

Today, I’m a comic book-reading, sci-fi movie-watching, offensive website-bookmarking, music obsessive.  I’m not going to suddenly read Sarah Palin’s biography, start DVR-ing Jay Leno, or download Rob Thomas and Bon Jovi MP3s at the stroke of midnight. 

I’m running to Sanctuary once I get off the air tonight at 11:59.   See you on the other side.


Regarding “Logan’s Run”: Read the book, and skip the (very dated) movie.

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