HOT SHEET: Outrage over Baby Yoda’s eating disorder, ‘The Unicorn’ is the best kind of OK, and AC/DC rocks in the most unsurprising way

From the desk of Daniel P. Finney, hot seat editor, 24th Street bureau, Des Moines, Iowa.

ITEM ONE: We thought of all creatures real and imagined, Baby Yoda would escape the wrath in the Age of Outrage.

This was not to be the way. On a recent episode of “The Mandalorian,” the child — colloquially known as Baby Yoda — ate some of the unhatched eggs of a frog creature whose line will die out if she doesn’t reach her husband in time.

Worshippers of the Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Victimhood flipped out because Baby Yoda ate some of the eggs when the frog lady wasn’t looking. “Genocide!” some cried. “Insensitive to people with fertility issues!” others bellowed.

The typist shakes his fist in rage. How dare they mock Baby Yoda’s eating disorder? The child seems to only be able to eat wet, slimy things. You never see him with a bowl of cereal, a PBJ on toast or some Doritos like a normal kid, which can only mean the poor kid has a debilitating gluten allergy. We mock him for eating the only food his little body can process. Baby Yoda clearly has space celiac disease, you smug bastards.

ITEM TWO: Pause for a moment to consider the following: Baby Yoda is a puppet. There are no frog people who need to mate on a nearby planet. In fact, everything in “Star Wars” and its related properties is fiction — what people in a forgotten age called “fun.”

ITEM THREE: Actors Olivia Wilde and Jason Sudeikis have broken up after 10 years together, multiple news agencies have reported, but no, none of us ugly muggles have a chance with either of them.

ITEM FOUR: The Hot Sheet holds little love for romantic comedies or sitcoms, but the ol’ Paragraph Stacker’s best buddy, Memphis Paul, convinced him to give CBS-TV’s “The Unicorn” a watch last fall. The typist ended up enjoying the show about a widowed father of two girls whose neighbors try to get him to start dating. The show is sedate and involves adults who are roughly the typist’s age but don’t act like complete idiots. The children aren’t precocious and saccharine — though they can be annoying as children are known to be. The second season debuted last week and it begins with widower Wade (Walton Goggins) having a kismet with his latest potential paramour, Shannon (Natalie Zea). Actors and writers must work very hard to tug at the heartstrings of this grumpy middle-aged former newsman, but the moment when Wade and Shannon finally meet in the final minutes of the second season premiere shook loose enough genuine warmth to recommend folks binge-watch the first season and start recording the second season post haste.

ITEM FIVE: The new AC/DC album, “Power Up,” is unsurprising in every way and that’s what makes it wonderful. Angus Young’s unmistakable shrieking guitar coupled with lead singer Brian Young’s maniacal screams sound like every other great AC/DC album. Hell, it sounds like the crap ones, too. What makes it wonderful is that these rockers aren’t drifting into power ballads or moody poetry to listen to when the rain streaks down a window. This is music you listen to when you grab a plastic cup of keg beer in a room full of drunks and jump up and down and shake your head and act out the wild rumpus. We can’t get into big crowds and do that stuff right now, but it is good to be reminded that such music can tap our wild inside.

ITEM SIX: The ol’ Paragraph Stacker enthusiastically recommends Habaneros, the new Mexican restaurant at 3200 Forest Ave. The restaurant refurbished the dilapidated former KFC/Taco Bell in the same location. The food is terrific. Their salsa is on point. The chips run a little dry, but that’s never stopped the typist from eating a bowl full of them. Recommended dish: Chicken Fajita Nachos.

ITEM LAST: These are unquestionably difficult times. The virus, the economy, the politics. They all suck. The ol’ Paragraph Stacker has no special cure for any of it. All he can do is tell you how he copes: He calls and texts his friends and family almost every day. He enjoys simple pleasures like comic books and James Bond movies. He takes a lot of naps. And he tries, and often fails, to remember that for all the things in this world to be upset about, he is still alive and there are adventures still left to be had. The storm has made the skies black and the water choppy. Set your teeth, friends, and keep both hands on the wheel.

Daniel P. Finney puts ketchup on a hot dog. Fuck you, Dirty Harry. is free, reader-supported media. Please consider donating to help me cover personal expenses as I continue writing while I pursue my master’s degree and teacher certification. Visit

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s