The big pop culture news this week was a sad story about the passing of “perpetually youthful-looking television host” Dick Clark, of a heart attack, at the age of 82.

I knew him mostly from episodes of the $10,000 (later $100,000) Pyramid, which was my illicit childhood TV viewing before my mom came home from work. (I was allowed a scant 30 minutes a day, which is the way to ensure your son ends up the editor of a pop culture website. In case you’re curious, I usually spent my half hour on a rerun of Night Court.)

It’s funny to call my stolen moments of Pyramid “illicit,” because Clark was nothing if not wholesome, and did as much as anyone to domesticate the wild sounds of rock ‘n’ roll for a mass audience. The whole news media has lapsed into hagiography, and OTI adds its voice to the earthly chorus of praise that is surely but a small echo of the rockin’ heavenly chorus welcoming Dick Clark into the hereafter.

In movies, we have a Nicholas Sparks melodrama, a Steve Harvery adaptation, and a doc about Chimpanzees. Oooh, chimps:

Francis Lawrence (no relation) will direct the next installment of the Hunger Games trilogy/quadrilogy (three books, four movies). Mad Men and Game of Thrones continue to kick ass. And this is your… Open Thread.