September 18, 2015
September 15, 2015
It’s with some reluctance that I turn my thoughts from summer to fall TV. In general, I delight in putting summer behind me: summer is the season of no school, hot weather, and entirely too much daylight. Blurgh. But this summer was an embarrassment of television riches, people. Difficult People made me laugh wickedly. UnREAL convinced me once and for all that I needn’t watch anything that includes the word “bachelor.” Mr. Robot tickled my dystopian bone. Like I said, an embarrassment of television riches.
Alas, all good things must come to a Shonda-declared end. Thus I present the State of the TV Schedule: Fall 2015.
Minority Report – I liked the movie a lot, and while this series has 100% less Neal McDonough, I’m hopeful just the same.
NCIS – At some point, this show will end, disappointing me and millions of senior citizens. Until that day, I’m in.
Heroes Reborn – Hiro + HRG? Yes please.
How to Get Away with Murder
Shark Tank – To my surprise, this is the show I’ve been missing most. Nothing like seeing people’s pitches rewarded and/or crushed accordingly.
The Last Man on Earth – I didn't expect to like this show nearly as much as I do. It's a gem, even if your Will Forte mileage varies.
Undecided: Quantico, Limitless, Project Greenlight
Watching, but not on network TV: The Mindy Project, The Man in the High Castle, Manhattan
September 10, 2015
At this point, only the briefest of recaps is necessary for each of my annual State Fair visits. I’ve got my routine down pat, and very little changes from year to year.
I know that I’ll wander the Expo Center, ogling the miracle products:
There will be a few head-scratchers, too:
I’ll watch the Raptors: Birds of Prey show with utter delight.
TINY OWL IS TINY.
Peregrine Falcon, fastest animal.
"I am freedom, baby.”
Crows are the Rodney Dangerfield of the bird world. No respect.
I’ll admire prize-winning cheeses:
Prize-winning baked goods, too:
The animals will seem less-than-excited to be at the freaking STATE FAIR:
“Wake me when it’s over.”
And throughout the day, I will attempt to eat my body weight.
Cruller on a stick.
Flavored milks: Orange creamsicle, root beer, banana, strawberry, and chocolate.
The Wis-cone-sin (new this year).
Pretzel-crusted brownies on a stick, also new this year.
See you in 2016.
September 4, 2015
The BBC’s recent Britain at the Bookies miniseries—available as of writing on YouTube, so be quick about it—was a pretty fascinating look at betting. I myself am not a gambler, preferring the buffet to any table game or machine. Seriously, I’ve been to casinos dozens of times but gambled only once, spending a dollar on penny slots in Vegas and ending up with $2.32. Thus it’s with disinterest that I enjoyed learning about OTB, horseracing, and the like.
BUT. My ears did perk up during episode 2, when the question of naming racehorses came up. Namely (no pun intended), what you would name your horse, if you had one. Coincidentally, I had decided on this very thing earlier that same day. So without further ado, let the record show that I today am claiming the following name for any racing horse, dog, BattleBot, or yet-to-be-invented cyborg I may ever use for competition purposes:
Hot Pocket Veto
Brilliant, right? It combines three of my loves: frozen food, politics, and wordplay. Google indicates that the phrase has to date been used just once, in a tweet about the President, and that the phrase was not referencing the food product. Folks, I’m counting this one as all mine.
Back-up plan: I discover something (a strain of bacteria? a planet? spitballing here) and use this name. Win-win.
Edit: What name would you choose?
Edit: What name would you choose?
August 20, 2015
When I was your age, parks were different from what they are now. I was reminded of this when I read about an enterprising DC-area family who created a guide to Arlington’s 70 parks. The guide includes ratings “on the different features, like how challenging the playground was, how much shade each has and if it had bathrooms.” The kids “liked playgrounds that had more challenging features, like rock climbing walls or climbing nets.”
Hang on. What? Rock climbing walls? Bathrooms? SHADE?
As a kid on Milwaukee’s south side, my main haunts (Maitland, Copernicus, and Tippecanoe parks) featured some swings, that spinning platform thing, and maybe a wooden structure you could climb on. Think this:
(By the way, I had to Google “old playground” to get that image because simply Googling “playground” brings up the colorful monstrosities delighting kids these days. BAH.)
Among the things you DON’T see in this picture are rock climbing walls, bathrooms, or shade. The slide was made of metal and 100% exposed to sun. The wooden frame would result in your getting at least a splinter a week. The ground—if you were lucky—was littered with just a few cigarette butts.
It was glorious.
Because when I was a kid, you spent the day having adventures, often at the playground. That wooden structure was actually a castle, or an airplane, or a skyscraper, or a laboratory. You tried to swing the swing ALL THE WAY AROUND, because someone knew someone who knew someone who had done that once. You dug in thesand looking for arrowheads because we all knew Wisconsin was chock full of Native American artifacts. (Years I looked for arrowheads: 25. Arrowheads I found: 0.)
It was dirty and dangerous. If you fell off the monkey bars, you landed hard onto unforgiving sand. (From what I can tell, playgrounds today are covered in recycled water bottles mixed with condescension.) If you did scrape a knee or get a splinter, you knew exactly what was required to procure Bactine, tweezers, and a bandage without being detected. Do kids today even understand the nightmarish sting of Bactine? Is Bactine just an app now?
I don’t begrudge kids their newfangled play technology; time marches on. Particularly in big cities, where everyone lives piled atop each other and no one has yards or driveways. But I’m afraid that for every climbing wall and bathroom gained, some imagination is lost.
Safety first, I guess.
August 12, 2015
It’s been a summer of teaching old dogs new tricks, hasn’t it? I’ll leave reviews of the newest Dr. Seuss book to people with kids and/or souls, and stick to two books that were a little more in my wheelhouse.
Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee
As you probably know, Watchman was a rough draft of the universally-loved* classic To Kill a Mockingbird. Lee’s editor read Watchman, realized the childhood flashbacks were the best part, and counseled Lee to write a book set wholly at that time rather than one that moves between Scout’s past and present.
And here’s the thing about editors: sometimes, they’re RIGHT. Because the childhood flashbacks are just about the only thing in this book that aren’t a mess. Without the background of Mockingbird, the reader has no reason to care about these characters since there’s almost no driving action or suspense. Though the book opens with adult Scout on a train ride to Alabama (promising!), her arrival in Maycomb puts an end to the travelogue and cues up the casual racism.
Which, look: I get it. This book was written and set in the 1950s and it was a different time. I repeat: IT WAS A DIFFERENT TIME. The attitudes and language in the book must be considered in that context. It’s not that I was offended. I was bored…bored by Scout’s inner struggles regarding her father, her fiancé, Maycomb’s racist community leaders, et al.
Harsh as it seems, this appears to be an instance of an interesting kid growing into a boring adult. It happens all the time. Harry Potter is probably an accountant now or some such.
Read this if you seek completeness (as I did). There’s not much other reason.
Grey by E.L. James
I was a little mislead about what I was getting into with Grey. I thought it was the entire 50 Shades trilogy from Christian’s POV. Turns out it covers just the events of the first book. So much for completeness.
It’s been quite some time since I read the trilogy, so I didn’t remember what was coming as I read (no pun intended, ew). I had hoped for a little more insight into Christian’s background, since I find him the far more interesting character. Call me a misogynist (I certainly do), but Ana seems to be there mostly to be there.
Alas, other than a few childhood flashbacks (indicated by italics, which is apparently some kind of typography commandment), most of Christian’s time is spent using his ostentatious wealth and/or genitalia. I guess that’s the life of a playboy.
Read this if you seek titillation (I didn’t). There’s not much other reason.
*I came to Mockingbird late in life, since the tiny religious schools I attended didn’t discuss race relations and certainly didn’t acknowledge the existence of rape outside the Old Testament. The Scarlet Letter made everybody PRETTY CLAMMY and everybody in that was white. So I had to pick up Mockingbird—and a host of other classic works—once I graduated, was allowed to think on my own, etc.
August 4, 2015
The last full day of my Iceland trip, the day of the Silver Circle tour, dawned sunny and clear (TWO DAYS IN A ROW, WHAT WHAT HEY-O). There was some initial confusion, because between the time I booked the tour and the time I went on the tour, it changed names. “The Silver Circle” became “Vikings, Waterfalls & Hot Springs.” IMO, the new, more-explicit name is at least 30% less sexy. But whatever, man.
We were a group of five: me, TheBoy, a couple from Norway (!), and the guide. We got a fancy van (technical term) and drove from Reykjavik to our first stop: Hvalfjörður, the whaling fjord.
Not our actual fancy van, but very similar. We each got, like, a whole row of seats. SWANK.
What with the worldwide popularity of the “Save the Whales” movement, Hvalfjörður is home to one of the last remaining active whaling plants. We drove past but couldn’t stop, because the place was locked-up, Fort Knox style.
I assume Auric Whalefinger sits inside, stroking a white cat.
According to our guide, his childhood involved field trips to this place. Now? You’re not getting in for love or money. THANKS, PETA.
Anyway, the fjord had much more to offer in the way of scenic beauty. I mean, mirror lakes, big skies, hills-are-alive kind of beauty.
Taken from the middle of a road. The guide said it was fine. You know what? It was.
Next, Borgarnes, home to the Settlement Museum. Two lengthy exhibits, one about the founding of Iceland and another about one of its mythic figures, Egil. You were forced to use the audio tour, which worked out okay because the exhibits were basically stories told via folk art. I wasn’t allowed to take any pictures (and for once, I didn’t), but here’s someone else’s to give you some idea of what I was dealing with.
Credit where credit’s due: The exhibits were creative and varied. I’m just spoiled by the Smithsonians.
Since all that audio touring was hungry work, lunch in Fossatún was next. Fossatún, as far as I can tell, consists of one motel/restaurant/camping ground. Luckily for me, the view from the patio was GORG.
Added bonus: My lamb stew came with an egg on it for no obvious reason.
That side salad is the very definition of "anemic."
The first afternoon stop was Deildartunguhver, the highest-flow hot spring in Europe. Imagine 200-degree water gushing out of the ground at 48 gallons per second and you’ve pretty much got the gist.
Our next stop was Reykholt, where we learned all about Snorri Sturluson, one of Iceland’s most significant historic figures. He’s sort of their Homer; he wrote down a lot of the myths and history back in the early 13th century. His original homestead now has a church, school, and other stuff on it, but there’s a little museum and the Norwegian couple traveling with us LOVED it. Apparently Snorri’s huge in Norway. Who knew? (Answer: The Norwegians.)
The man, the myth, the Snorri.
Now here’s where things get hairy, and the one regret I have about the trip. The next stop was supposed to be a drive through the second-highest pass in Iceland to a glacier walk, which was something I knew TheBoy really wanted to do. This tour is only offered in June, July, and August because the pass is snowed-over and impassable (ha) the rest of the year. Alas, IT WAS STILL SNOWED OVER. BOO. Obviously global warming is a myth.
Our consolation prize was Hraunfossar and Barnafoss, two waterfalls. Hraunfossar was more visually impressive…
…but Barnafoss legend is cooler. Quoth Wikipedia:
Many Icelandic folk tales have been associated with Barnafoss, the most famous being about two boys from a nearby farm, Hraunsás. One day, the boys' parents went with their ploughmen to a church. The boys were supposed to stay at home, but as they grew bored they decided to follow their parents. They made a shortcut and crossed a natural stone-bridge that was above the waterfall. But on their way, they felt dizzy and fell into the water and drowned. When their mother found out what had happened, she put a spell on the bridge saying that nobody would ever cross it without drowning himself. A little while later, the bridge was demolished in an earthquake.
Fittingly, our last stop was a return to Þingvellir. Our visit during the Golden Circle tour of Day 2 was an overcast bust that we'd tried to make the best of. I didn't mention that we got separated from the group and I almost threw my first Unesco World Heritage Site tantrum. This time around, it was partially cloudy and our guide stuck with us, so we got to better understand the significance of the site as well as partly-sunny views of it and the local wild horses.
Since the sixth and final day or our trip involved going from hotel to airport, this is where I’ll leave it. Iceland’s a strong recommend: the perfect mix of unique nature and ancient history.