Do you love a parade? If you're reading this while standing in front of City Hall this morning, the answer must be an unequivocal yes, and I salute you almost as much as I appreciate Times columnist Gustavo Arellano's presence of mind to head to East L.A. before the blockades went up so he (and his 73-year-old dad!) could celebrate the Dodgers winning their eighth World Series in memorable fashion.

Where did you party? And did you have any idea that so many people in your neighborhood had caches of fireworks, ready to set off at a moment's notice? I'm Glenn Whipp, columnist for the Los Angeles Times and host of The Envelope's Friday newsletter, enjoying a beverage and appreciating Clayton Kershaw's let-it-all-hang-out dad bod celebration vibe. Let's look at this week's (unrelated to the world champion Los Angeles Dodgers) news.

As someone who has, on more than one occasion, sat in his living room, listening to Sinatra sing "The September of My Years" and ruminating on the ceaseless passage of time, I feel like the target audience for Robert Zemeckis' new movie "Here," which follows the events happening on a single spot of land -- mostly a living room -- over the years.

Seriously ... I'll be driving down, say, La Brea, remembering the time 15 years ago that my son and I popped into Pink's for a hot dog after a movie, and then another time at Pink's five years later, and so on and so on and then wishing he was nearby so we could go grab a dog now, even though he's vegan and I have no idea if Pink's could accommodate him. (Oh ... there's a veggie dog named after my colleague, Times columnist Patt Morrison? Well, then ...)

I still haven't seen "Here," but judging from the reviews, I think I might be waiting to see it, yes, in the comfort of my own living room. My pal Amy Nicholson calls it a "tribute to banality." OK then. A better choice would be Clint Eastwood's latest film, "Juror #2," a sturdy courtroom drama that Warner Bros. has unceremoniously dumped into something like 50 theaters nationwide. Reviewing for The Times, Robert Abele calls the film, which could be the final movie from the 94-year-old Eastwood, "a worthy closing argument for what Eastwood has always cared about most -- how we live as much as how we die, and in the final count, what condemns us all."

Or you might, after reading my old friend Mark Olsen's interview with John Malkovich, decide to revisit "Being John Malkovich" on the 25th anniversary of its release. (Did I mention the ceaseless passage of time?)

"When I saw it -- I only saw it once, in Venice at the film festival, and when it was revealed that Charlie Sheen was my best friend, just the idea of that, it was a rolling laugh, kind of 15 minutes long," Malkovich told Mark. "And then when I tell him I got involved with this coven of lesbian witches, he responds, 'Give me their number when you're through with them,' in a way that's a line only Charlie Sheen could do. That's what he does. And you trust him to take care of that for you. And so I thought then, 'OK, it's fine. It's what it's set out to be.'"

The delightful Teri Garr, who died Tuesday following a long battle with multiple sclerosis, was a superb comic actor, elevating movies like "Young Frankenstein," "Tootsie" and "After Hours." She was perfectly cast as Phoebe's mother on "Friends," as Lisa Kudrow's offbeat presence owed a debt to Garr.

But Garr's greatest role may just have been playing herself -- or a public-facing version of herself -- as a guest on talk shows. Johnny Carson loved her. But her biggest fan was David Letterman, who invited her on his show so often that you can go on YouTube and find a collection of her appearances that spans five volumes, roughly nine hours of Garr being her charming, captivating self over 26 years.

Explaining their connection just before Letterman took his show to CBS, Garr said, "It isn't just a conversation. It's something else."

Why did Letterman have Garr on speed-dial?

"Because I'm a nice person. And because a lot of times they would call me up and say, 'Can you do the show on Thursday?' And I'd say, 'Who died?' It's fun. It's like an experience, like a Disneyland ride," Garr said.

"But then so many people tell me, 'Don't do this. You're just ruining your career by doing this show too much,'" Garr continued. "And then I think, 'We're all gonna be dead someday. Are they going to come to my grave and say, 'You did Letterman too much.' I'm sure they asked a lot of other people who had more scruples than I did."