Thursday, May 28, 2015
This past weekend was the Memorial Day weekend where we honor those who served and died in the armed forces of the United States. Last year on Memorial Day my wife and I went to the military section of a nearby cemetery to pay our respects. It was a quiet sunny day, perfect for reflection.
Then I spotted a Civil War era grave with both an American flag and a confederate flag and I was appalled. I can't tell you how tempted I was to pull out my lighter and set it on fire. The very symbol of slavery and treason planted in the ground of the northern state that saw the battle (Gettysburg) that brought about the end of the Civil War. Disgraceful. I find the confederate flag as hateful and offensive as the Nazi flag. Afterall, they represent very similar ideals of oppression and hate.
I wish I had set it on fire.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
I am working on a series of nude Barbie selfies. Barbie's nude because she came to me that way and I am not spending money on doll clothes. Plus, Barbie's so stiff that that's why she's often found naked at the bottom of a toybox; no kid wants the hassle of dressing her.
This shot is representative of an all-American girl, bored at home, armed because who isn't, and wanting to share her singular specialness with the world.
Monday, May 25, 2015
Last night I watched the first episode of the new Netflix show, Between. It's too bad that Dorothy Parker insists on remaining dead as she alone could do justice to ripping this insipid bit of crap to bloody shreds. The production values are so low that they seem to be a nonexistent after thought that never materializes.
In this doomsday-ish scenario, where everyone over 22 years of age gurgles dark, viscous blood and then drops dead, we see in way of any pathology performed, an old guy in a lab coat in what looks like an ill-equipped high school science lab surrounded by corpses, still fully clothed, on gurneys, peering into a microscope. I foolishly thought that he was preparing to do an autopsy, but no. Not even when a couple of lackeys show up from the Canadian version of the CDC does anyone think to do an autopsy. Yeah, you are real serious about getting to the bottom of this phenomenon.
Look, I can tolerate a certain amount of suspension of belief, and even huge dollops of fringe science, but this is no science.
After one episode I am outta here.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Rosalyn Drexler is an accomplished writer, artist, and former professional wrestler. Her pop art work produced in the early to mid 1960s is perhaps the most relevant work of that aesthetic ever conceived. No wonder Warhol, who was a shameless rip off artist anyway, ripped her off too.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
The puzzle of Westeros...how fitting. In the event that you have not seen episode 6 of season 5 of "Game of Thrones", be warned, there be spoilers beyond this jumping off point.
While I've seen episode 6.5, titled 'Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken', twice, and did notice a certain slash to a certain character's arm, I must admit that I failed to appreciate its significance until I read this piece in Vanity Fair. Brilliant! To sneak something in on us in a blink of an eye, something that clearly means that guy's gonna die a horrible death by poison, an action so fleeting in the bigger picture that's demanding the viewer's attention, that seemingly only one person in the entire blogosphere took note, is quite remarkable.
The show, at this point, had no choice but to deviate from the framework provided by the books. A written narrative and a visual one are two different animals as it is. A show or movie based on a novel need not adhere strictly to it, but in the case of "Game of Thrones" the showrunners had no choice. George R. R. Martin writes at his own pace, and the show has outpaced that pace. And, I would argue, that it's exciting to see deviations from the books. It makes for more compelling storytelling for this viewer. I think that, since I came to the books because of the show, that I am more vested in how the show is telling the story of the seven kingdoms versus how Martin is telling that very same story. Well, not so very same any longer.
Monday, May 18, 2015
Everything, dammit, comes to an end. Sunday May 17, 2015 saw the final episode of Mad Men air. I didn't get to watch it in real time because no matter much I might adore the show, the alarm goes off at 4:45am and, well, sleep and I have a deep and meaningful relationship. I did catch up with the finale this morning, savoring every moment because I knew that this was the last. It was more wistful than tearful, and for that I'm pleased.
The evolution of the characters over the seasons was wondrous to behold - even when they didn't change all that much because people don't really betray their core nature. In that way we are all Sisyphus rolling a boulder of our baggage up that hill every single day. Don Draper's baggage in particular was monumental. Given his origins, and his childhood, where he ends up is surprising, but how he conducts his private life isn't. His relationships with the romantic interests in his life, that endless parade of women, is disappointing, but nonetheless typical of someone so scarred and ashamed of his past. Two of Don's deepest and most surprising relationships with female characters were nonsexual. One was with Peggy Olson, the fresh from secretarial school secretary, who rises through the ranks to become a head copywriter. Don's protege. They have a conflicted relationship because she initially was always looking toward him for approval and he was pushing back to get her to stand on her own and have confidence in her work. Then later he seemed to want her approval and she seemed tired of the dance...but there comes a time again when they do dance, and they share the only two beers to be found in all of Indiana on a Sunday night when the sale of alcohol was still prohibited.
The relationship that interested me the most was entirely outside the office and was between Don and his daughter Sally. I think that this was the only relationship that truly mattered to Don given how when he either had to be honest with her, or risk losing her love and trust, he was honest with her. When I watched, and rewatched, the episode where he drove all three of his children to Hershey, PA to show them the squalor in which he'd been raised, and there was no doubt that this was in response to Sally telling him that she knows nothing about him or his past. And then, finally, when she tells him in a later episode that she loves him, you see a release of tension on his face, as if...
Don would never have his mother's love, she died birthing him, and he was so colossally disastrous in his romantic life that he was compelled to sabotage anything and everything good that came his way. But with his daughter, with Sally, there is that familial love that he was always denied.
I'll miss this show.