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These are things I recently saw on Netflix. Spoilers follow. Morning Glory (2010): Starring some youngish woman (hereinafter known as YW) as an irredeemably giddy television producer hired to either resurrect or euthanize a morning show on which Diane Keaton plays a cardboard cutout opposite some dunderhead who gets fired about five minutes in . . . → Read More: 45-second movie reviews From Lenin’s Tomb, a lefty Brit blog run by Richard Seymour, comes this on the recent London riots:
Continue reading Blogs on Parade: “The Negro’s Revenge” edition I read the transcript of the Obama debt-ceiling speech and aside from killing any lingering hope for a jobs program and the preservation and improvement of our social safety net, it didn’t seem too awful. And I’ve been told by professional progressive persons who watched the speech and the response to it from Orange John that Obama came off like an adult and Boehner like a petulant, oddly tinted child. Still, I think it’s ultimately more useful to think of the debate principals in the context of the hit musical and film, Sweeney Todd. Which of them is Sweeney Todd, the demon barber who will slit our throats, and which is Mrs. Lovett, the baker who will make us into meat pies for our masters? When I was a kid, the music played in grocery stores was infantilized versions of things such as classic swing and pop tunes from the 1930s forward to the early 1960s, with people like Henry Mancini playing castrated versions of the originals. Imagine a down-tempo, lush string version of Louis Prima’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” . . . → Read More: This is not your father’s Musak
It’s huge. I had no idea. All you can really see from the street is a generous corridor with a few shops lining it and beyond that, part of a courtyard. But that view shows just a fraction of what’s actually there. It’s sort of like what I remember of Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico—narrow passageways opening into enormous caverns. And just as at Carlsbad, the place has elevators.
I’m moving to San Diego from Los Angeles in the near future, so I’m wandering around taking pictures of all the (mostly) easily accessible stuff I never got around to during the three years I’ve been here. I had a lot of Santa Monica pics but hardly anything of LA proper. So off I . . . → Read More: A tourist in my own town Email and comment spam have very occasionally risen to a state of artistic grace and I have very occasionally paid homage to especially lovely examples. My spam filter caught a spectacular comment on an older post and I feel compelled to reproduce it here for everyone, all five of you, to see. This is, . . . → Read More: The most fabulous spam comment in the history of spam! |
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I love trains even though unfortunate things happen sometimes when I’m riding them. My first semi-long train ride, from Santa Barbara to Redwood City many many years ago, took about 12 hours and ended considerably short of my destination. First and most tragically, the train collided with a car at a rural crossing and killed the six people riding in the car. A new engineer had to be brought in because the one driving the train at the time couldn’t drive again until the results of his blood tests came in, and probably he would have been too rattled anyway. And it took hours to clear the wreckage from the tracks. It was pretty horrible.
Civilization having collapsed, I don’t have to write about political stuff any more. So I’m just posting pictures. One day when humankind has regrouped and forsworn union-busting and other acts of brutality I’ll return to chronicling that sort of thing but meanwhile …