Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks.

It's freezing outside and inside, since Capetonians don't appear able (or willing) to accept that winter actually happens here--Los Angeles, you ain't--and most of us are spending time huddled around a fire, a space heater, or an oven (or are resorting to taking long baths at night). It's grey out, the wind has been ripping off the mountain, and the rain alternates between spitting and pouring. There's no other way to describe it--it's just raw out. Last year, we had the World Cup to distract us. This year, there's little respite. But here's a brief one: Sam Rockwell dancing.






H/T Pajiba. You guys really are the best.


Virtual cookies for the nerds who know from when the title originates. Googling is grounds for disqualification.