Sunday, March 24, 2013

Spy Shows, Melodrama, Planet of the Apes

The only TV I had time to watch this weekend was an episode of Archer and a week-and-a-half-old episode of The Americans.  I'm still liking the show well enough, but I kind of think they need to slow it the hell down.  I'm no master spy, but having a new mission every week while you're supposed to be undercover and a sort of sleeper agent feels like a lot of missions.  Perhaps it makes sense in the context of Archer, but I'm cool with long-game sorts of scenarios and letting the domestic issues the show writers seem to want to focus on (and I welcome) broil from episode to episode is fine.

But, really, I have no complaints.

Well, one.  Every episode now seems to end with our leads in their bedroom having a whispery and angry conversation, and it's a bad pattern to get stuck in.  Yes, we need to see these two together, but somehow it reminds me of how Smallville started going downhill when every episode started ending the A Plot with 10-15 minutes left, and spent 10 minutes with Lana and Clark in Clark's barn-loft with Lana making cow eyes at each other and being weepy teens.

If the killer Russian spies turn into Clana, I shall be disappointed.

I also picked up and read the second volume of  a trade of a Planet of the Apes comics series that has to be two or three years old now.  It's well written and fantastically drawn, and, like all POTA stuff, it's also headed somewhere incredibly nihilistic and depressing.  Just showing a world where humans still talk is the start of the end of a world where humans cease talking and become primitive and beast-like by their first appearance in the Cheston films.  And, of course, when you blow up the Earth in the second movie (spoiler?), there's just not really a "and things get better" to be had.*

All of this makes it hard to go seek out the third volume as... I kind of know how all this wraps up.  Hmmm...

Mostly, I worked on Saturday, and today I made a cake for Jamie's birthday.  And then we made dinner.  And now I'm sort of done.  And the weekend is over, and we're starting all over again.





*yes, there are three more films after they blow up Earth.  What of it?

Your Daily Dose of Good Cheer: Peggy Cummins


Happy Birthday to Jamie

Monday (the 25th) is Jamie's birthday.

To celebrate, Saturday we went out to Lucy's Friend Chicken on South Congress and then to Midnight Cowboy Modeling, a former 6th street, uh... modeling location, now a speakeasy bar.

Y'all, I ate so much chicken...  It comes in aluminum buckets.  It's not even fair.

oh, the carnage
A lovely evening out, and kudos to Nicole for driving and organizing.

Jamie isn't getting a present to open on her b-day as we've got tickets to a show later this spring and she's flying out to see Rebecca in a few weeks for some fun in TN.

So, here's some things she likes, all here in a blog post:

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Your Daily Dose of Good Cheer: Norma Shearer


Lo Content Mode for a Few Days

Today I go to the airport and pick up a candidate for the open position of: my boss.

From Thursday afternoon until Saturday evening, I'm kind of responsible for this person.  Tomorrow I pick them up and take them to the hotel.  Then it's dinner with the Search Committee.  All day on Friday it's interviews.  Saturday, I'm "showing them Austin" with the intention of selling them on Austin.  Hoo-boy.  

I hope they like comic shops and record stores, 'cause that's what they're gonna see.

It's a weird task to be given, but we do things old skool and with the prissy formality of a Dowager Countess in Higher Ed, and especially in libraries.  Thus, I establish who I am to this person by acting as their footman for three days.  

Really, I kind of consider it to be a test of the person's street smarts to make it to the hotel on day 1, but that's just me.

The proximity to the boss and this much time with a person who doesn't know me is, I would think, a whole lotta me.  And I can barely stand being with me for more than a couple of hours, so I can only imagine how this is gonna go for this poor person.  Also, I use a lot of swears when I drive, so the idea of driving this person around all Saturday is sort of chilling.

Anyway, I kind of have to go to ground for a bit.  Y'all take care.  I'll be around as I'm able.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

A Humble Request - I Need Your Words

The end of this month marks the 10th Anniversary of my blogging career.

I'd deeply appreciate it if you could feel so inspired as to send some publishable reminisces by way of email to:  signalwatch at gmail dot com

I'll be posting whatever you feel like sending my way around the date of the blog-versary. It can be whatever you like.  The time I filled you with rage.  The time you knew I'd gone quite mad.  The time you decided my words were sage wisdom and put a check in the mail to support me.

Whatever you like.  There are no rules.

Ten years, people.  Ten.

a typical night of blogging at League HQ

So, yeah!  We'd love to hear from you.  Just click on that "Contact" button up above and send something in.

Your Daily Dose of Good Cheer: Gloria Grahame


I got nothin': Mad Men and creeping up on my blogging anniversary

We started our pre-Season 6 review of Season 5 of Mad Men this evening.  I firmly believe you kind of have to watch every season of this show twice, not just to get the quick, throw away lines you might have missed, but it's a show that writes in a literary mode.  Once you know the score, it's amazing to see the foreshadowing and symbols.  I've seen some critics complain that, basically, the show does this on TV and they feel it can be clunky, and, sometimes, yeah.  But for the occasional open elevator shaft, there's a throw-away line about "not being around by Christmas" that plays out with grim irony nobody but the writing staff could have anticipated.

As much as I live a good show like The Americans and the challenges of the show, they're all there on the surface.  It's a gripping drama that challenges the American hero perspective of the 1980's (or today), but that's the function of the show.  It weaves in home and life to characters we've only ever seen as drone-like killing machines or bed-mates for James Bond.  Again, I really like The Americans, but Mad Men is trying in a completely different way and isn't in danger of becoming a one-hit wonder.

Also, I watched this evening's episode of The New Girl.  I long ago moved on from just watching it for the Deschanel-ness and genuinely like what I suspect is about 50% made up on the spot from an outline.

In the next 10 days I need to finish the 10th Anniversary post for my blogging.

10 years, man.  10.  That's a lot of navel gazing.  And sometimes I feel bad that I only have 200+ posts on Superman on this blog, and then I think:  well, man, that's like 200 posts you did about Superman on this site alone.  That's actually a lot of thinking and writing about Superman that nobody paid you to do.  You're no Steve Younis, but that's nothing to shake a stick at.  Also, go out and get some sun or something.  All this sitting can't be good for you.

Anyway, if you have anything to contribute to the 10 year anniversay-palooza, we welcome you to send in your post-cards and comments.  You can do so via email at the contact link that is in the menu bar running horizontally at the top of the page.  We'll reprint whatever you want to send in.

One thing I learned from visiting with people I hadn't seen much or at all in 20 years last weekend is that their memories of you and  (what was to them) specific, very important moments can be something you don't really recall yourself until they bring it up.  I was just glad that the two things I had dropped on me were both really pretty positive.  But then modern-me looked like a jack-ass for not immediately remembering either event.*

So, yeah, I don't know what you people think of when you think of The League of Melbotis franchise of social media.  But if you want to help me out on this, it'd be appreciated.


*apparently I defended a young woman's honor in the cafeteria and was someone else's first kiss (as a stage kiss.  I had no idea.).