Downton, etc.

Reader, last night was the Season Two premier of Downton Abbey and was I ever excited. But also distracted by the awesome live tweeting of Patton Oswalt. What is wrong with me, checking Twitter while watching TV? Media oversaturation at its worst! But I couldn't stop myself because Patton Oswalt's live tweeting of Downton was a wonder to behold. Recommend.

Mary's (played by the wonderful Michelle Dockery) dresses last night were fantastic. You can tell there's a war on since she wore one of them twice. THE HORROR. Anyway, fabulous dress #1 can be seen here, third from the top. Not a great picture but you get the idea. Swoon! The gorgeous red number you catch right at the beginning of this clip. Love. It.

While scouring interwebs for Downton pics n clips I'm realizing there are a lot of Season 2 spoilers out there, since the whole thing already aired in England. Trying to avoid them, although earlier today I glimpsed something I didn't want to know and now I can't un-know. Damn you, first-world internet problems!

In other urgent television news, Paul Rudd is going to be on Parks and Recreation. Gods be good! And wow, that phrase totally comes from Game of Thrones. When I cracked open my Kindle to check the wording of that phrase, I turned right to this passage:

Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache. She could feel his seed within her. She prayed that it might quicken there ... She was not too old. She could give him another son."

Pretty much sums up what I can't stand about wench/m'lady/heaving bosom books in one short paragraph. Feh.

2012 All Bright and Shiny

What it is reader! It's a new year and I still kvetch endlessly and watch a lot of TV. And kvetch about TV. Season 2 of Downton Abbey starts tonight and I am bananas excited about it. Have you seen Season 1 yet? You MUST! Lay in some supplies and power through all seven episodes in a row on Netflix. You'll be so glad you did. Who knew a PBS show about the aristocracy in England would become so damn popular? Read Salon's Irin Carmon's take on it here and former SF Chronicle TV critic Tim Goodman's (now writing for The Hollywood Reporter) review here. I'm in good company with my love for Downton.

On the literature front, I now own a Kindle, which is possibly the best $79 I have ever spent. Yes, the version with ads. Which are connected to my location but somehow not to my buying history on Amazon. Hence, the omnipresent ads for Mercedes of Oakland and various local body waxing emporiums. Talk about ad click-throughs that will never, ever happen.

I finally understand the difference between The Hunger Games and Game of Thrones, which I had been confusing for months. So not the same thing, but both worth reading. Admittedly Game of Thrones is not so much up my alley due to my well-documented dislike of fantasy. I won't lie, I skipped a lot of it. There's only so much swordplay, wench this, m'lady that that Professional Critic can take. But since each volume is seventy million pages it seems like I'm still getting the main points. I look forward to seeing it and catching the movie version of The Hunger Games, even though the trailers don't look super promising. I'm not sure if I'm feeling Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss but we shall see.

The Golden Globes are pretty soon but I'm not sure I'll be able to bring myself to watch this increasingly irrelevant awards show. Yes, my beloved Downton got many well-deserved nods, but American Horror Story? Is ridiculous (though Jessica Lange's nod is well-deserved.) Glee is simply terrible. No Nick Offerman? PAH, I spit on you, Golden Globes. But who am I kidding, I'll probably watch. So much kvetching fodder!

Breaking Bad, Apostrophes

[Spoiler alert!] Reader, it's getting harder to watch Breaking Bad. Not because of the increasingly ruthless chicken truck-jacking scenes (eating the dead driver's lunch while the guards suffocate, so brutal), but because of Walt's near-complete transformation from mild-mannered narcissist into delusional raging asshole. Mike is standing out as the show's anti-hero hero, and I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of Saul. As Walt falls farther down the rabbit hole of wanna-be gangsterism, moments of levity are hard to come by.

Apparently I missed International Apostrophe Day, but no matter! In Professional Critic's book, every day is International Apostrophe day! In honor of the hallowed day, blogger Sam Tanner tweeted this: An apostrophe is the difference between a business that knows its shit and a business that knows it's shit

So full of win! Reader, I would like a poster of this. And even better, I just spent 15 minutes on this apostrophe tutorial and enjoyed myself thoroughly! Yes, I am a dork, thanks for asking.

I Like TV As Much as the Next Gal, But C'mon

Like the other 23 million Netflix subscribers out there, I wasn't pleased to receive their recent email announcing a substantial rate hike without simultaneous improvement to the generally meh streaming library. However, I was taken aback by the intensity of the massive public outcry against what amounted to an additional five dollars a month. A slap in the face? A betrayal? Strong language for a modest bump in the entirely non-essential entertainment budget line. Only days before, the California State University system announced a 12% tuition hike that hardly received any coverage. Priorities? Yes, we have them and our future idiot workforce will be our proof.

Apropos of nothing, I am loving on Martha Plimpton so hard right now. She was just nominated for her role on the very funny Raising Hope and her Twitter feed is freaking fantastic. Yes to follow!

And here is Stephen Colbert, responding to a recent and thoroughly eye-rolly advertising campaign in the only sane way one can (probably NSFW):

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Sunday Round Up

A thrills and chills kind of weekend here at Chez PC. By thrills I mean mowing through platters of house-made salumi and pate with my favorite meat-eating pal at Adesso. The creamiest, smoothest, most happiness-making chicken liver pate, a duck version with cherries and pistachio nuts that was swoon-worthy. So tasty, so decadent. If I was the kind of a person who juice-fasted I would do it now but instead I just ate some ice cream. Thank God I'm not that kind of person because AmeriCone Dream is fucking delicious.

In chills was today's soccer/futbol World Cup. I refuse to call it the Women's World Cup because the men's game isn't called the Men's World Cup. Soundly rejecting the notion that the default for sports is men's just as I soundly reject the equally hideous "male nurse." It was a suspenseful game but as dejected as the Americans looked at the end, we all know Japan could really use a win.

KY Intense ads are playing incessantly on Hulu. It is bugging me that they are referring to a woman's orgasm as "her big moment." Winning a Nobel Peace Prize or being elected president of the United States would be a big moment, but an orgasm? I get that we have to find coy ways of saying orgasm because for some reason we can't say orgasm on television. This will all get worked out when Michelle Bachmann gets elected and outlaws pleasure.

Wilfred is an American remake of an Australian show in which the main character Ryan sees Wilfred as a crude pot-smoking man in a dog suit but everyone else sees an actual dog. It's hilarious. Elijah Wood is perfectly cast in this role, much to my relief erasing my memory of him as Frodo in that awful, ridiculous, endless fantasy torture-fest my friends made me watch. You know who you are.

Breaking Bad, Season 4. Can. Not. Wait!

Extreme Rain, Extreme Couponing

Item 1: This fucking rain. Enough. Already.

Item 2: Extreme Couponing. I grew up with a coupon-clipping mom who took the Sunday ritual of rifling through the circulars seriously. Scissors in hand, she would file coupons into her blue alphabetized accordion file which we were not to touch except to retrieve for her en route to the grocery store.

Extreme Couponing is nothing like this. The goal of extreme couponers is not to save a little on things you need this week but to pay as little as possible for as much as possible, whether or not you need it or can possibly use it within this millennium. Extreme Couponers strategically apply coupons, rebates and grocery store discount cards for things they don't need like bags of Nerds and fistfuls of Mentos to apply savings to things that they do need, like cases of soda, valu-paks of hot dogs and pallets of instant mashed potatoes. The goal of every Extreme Couponer is two-fold: to walk away from the grocery store with hundreds of dollars worth of items for less than $50 (less is ideal) and to grow their stockpile--a beloved collection of neatly arranged items warehoused in spare rooms, closets and garages. This show is like Hoarders cross-pollinated with off-the-grid survivalists with a sprinkling of Oprah fairy dust. The sheer determination and organization of these women made me wonder why they weren't applying their prodigious talents running global businesses instead of amassing bottles of Febreeze and Olay Body Wash, but that question is beyond the scope of this ranty post.

Item 3: The FDA issued new eating guidelines last week to address the growing obesity epidemic, called MyPlate.



Pretty straightforward, right? Much easier to look at how your plate is divided than to figure out how much 3 ounces of meat is or how many green beans are in a half cup. If you've even watched ten minutes of Extreme Couponing you'll know that no one on that show is filling half their grocery carts with fruits and vegetables and the most prominent grocery item featured on the show is soda, nowhere to be seen on MyPlate.

Check out nutritionist and food activist Marion Nestle's reaction to MyPlate but if you're not feeling clicky here's a hint of what might need to change to ensure all Americans have access to affordable fruits and vegetables to cover half their plates:

Shutdown Distraction

Reader, we're teetering on the edge of a total government shutdown, which somehow in a universe unlike the one I live in, has something to do with abortion. I despise the devolution of politics in this country. Yes, that is a word. I wasn't sure myself.

Clearly I need a bit of distraction from this insanity, so here's a media round-up. In no particular order:

Body of Proof: I've always liked Dana Delaney since China Beach. Remember that show, fellow old people? Delaney's got a great combination of intensity, toughness and vulnerability. Plus, she's super hot. Although she has worked consistently since then, I don't know that she has ever found the right vehicle for her talents. Unfortunately her new show, Body of Proof isn't that vehicle either. Basically House with a lady, with some minor adjustments not even worth mentioning, Body of Proof is eye-rollingly predictable in every possible way: dialogue, characters, plot. Not unlike most network television, but we want more for Dana. I hold hope that the right show will come her way; since Hollywood has so much to offer women over 50, it should be any minute now.

The Walking Dead: I caught the pilot of this zombie show on Hulu a few months back and unexpectedly loved it. I've just finished the first disc of season 1 (pilot plus 3 episodes) and I continue to be transfixed. Suspenseful, scary, creepy, gruesome and sort of funny at the same time, The Walking Dead is the zombie show you never knew you'd like. A great show can absolutely transcend one's general lack of caring about the subject matter: see Friday Night Lights. AMC knocking it out the park these days: Breaking Bad, Mad Men and now this. A veritable trifecta of television awesomeness.

Burlesque: I have so little to say about this movie, I can't even summon full sentences: Christina Aguilera, small-town girl with big pipes and Pussy Cat Doll moves to LA. Cher, struggling club owner. Her best gay friend, Stanley Tucci. Bitchy alcoholic lead dancer, some girl whose name I can't be bothered to look up but you'll recognize her. Power struggle. Aguilera belts and warbles. Boobs. Bling. Trowel-applied make up. Some guy. Love. Triumph over adversity. Zzz.

Twitter: Though I joined in 2008, it wasn't until a few weeks ago when I started following a bunch of people that I got the point of this social networking. At times it is much like overhearing snippets of conversations that you don't understand. However, I am especially enjoying prolific Tweeters Roger Ebert, Mindy Kaling, Stephen Colbert and Jezebel writer Irin Carmon.

The New York Times Paywall: I was a daily reader of nytimes.com as well as a daily user of their iphone app. In the new, post-paywall world, this would cost $3.75 a week. To add iPad or other tablet access to the mix, it's $8.75 a week. Will this be successful? Or will people find so many ways to subvert the paywall (apparently easy to do, Google away) or simply go to other sites for news that they give up, as they did a few years back with their short-lived 2007 paywall experiment? Stay tuned.

You'll Fume, But Will Be Glad You Did

Reader, I put off seeing Inside Job, the Academy Award-winning documentary about the financial crisis, for a long time knowing it would make me blood boilingly, teeth gnashingly cra-zay. However this weekend I broke down, largely because I forgot to keep moving it to the bottom of my Netflix queue, it subsequently appeared in my mailbox and I didn't think I could stomach the guilt of returning it unwatched.

So yes, it was just as I imagined it would be--awful, maddening, heart-breaking, but excellent. Director Charles Ferguson did a great job of breaking down all the contributing factors that led to the entirely foreseeable and totally preventable shit storm, with a minimum of Michael Moore-style inflammatory shennanigans.

Here's Ferguson, on why he made the film and why you should watch it, despite the good possibility that you'll be thrown into a state of rageful despair:



On an unrelated note, last week the Associated Press officially dropped the hyphen in 'e-mail' in their style book. I guess this was kind of a big deal.

Respite

Sometimes, it's a good idea to take a break from bad news. Here's a handful of sweet, happy videos-- the grapefruit sorbet of the internet between courses of earthquake, tsunami, nuclear crisis, fucking morons and even bigger morons. Enjoy!







I don't know if this a PR ploy to make Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg more likable, but it's working. Beast, the new Puli puppy belonging to Zuckerberg and his girlfriend, is freaking adorable.

Golden Globes: Recap

That red carpet was a fucking disaster. A few rays of light in the fashion darkness:

Dianna Agron looked stunning, as she usually does. Pulls off the fair skin, blond hair, champagne dress beautifully.

Though I would have preferred another color, navy maybe, Claire Danes was a knockout in her simple yet elegant column dress.

Kyra Sedgwick looked lovely in a gauzy orange gown. What can I say? I sort of love her.

I am heartily sick of the one shouldered gown but Mila Kunis looked fantastic.

And though many, indeed most dresses were quite bad, here are some of the worst offenders:

Natalie Portman, you usually look so pretty. Has your unborn child sucked all the style out of you? I can otherwise make no sense of this cheap looking fabric, the flower trying to beat your baby to breastfeeding, and your awful, tacky shoes.

January Jones, between this 'dress' fashioned from Band Aids and your nude Versace ads I feel like a baby seal being clubbed over the head--I GET IT, YOU'RE SEXY.

Michelle Williams: Just no. NO.

Music Monday: The Smiths

Reader, as a long time Smiths fan I was intrigued to learn about Janice Whaley's The Smiths Project. San Jose-based Whaley has recorded all 71 Smiths song, using only her voice, within the span of one year. Each song has between 30 and 50 vocal layers to recreate the lush, much beloved Smiths sounds. So far my favorite of the bunch is Jean:



You can read more about Whaley in a Chronicle profile.

Music Monday on the First Sunday

What it is, reader. Thanks to the Mama, a clump of my brain cells is saturated with Willow Smith's godawful Whip My Hair. How do I exterminate this evil earworm? Huff spray paint? Hit the crack pipe? I'LL DO IT.

Thankfully, all I need to do is listen to Jimmy Fallon's genius Neil Young-style cover. This is a song I could have looping through my noggin, no problem:



In the past few months I've seen Nicki Minaj all over interwebs and print media. Over the holidays the Mama and I investigated this Trinidadian hip hop artist to see what all the fuss was about. We started with Your Love. By second 38 we had both heard enough of the whiny, Auto-Tuned ballad. We proceeded to Right Through Me, whose opening "movie" was laden with so much cringe-inducing dialogue and "acting" we almost didn't make it past second 12 to the start of the music, which sadly did nothing to improve our opinion of Ms. Minaj.

At this point we were both totally stumped why Nicki Minaj was famous as a hip hop artist as there was no hip hop in sight, just a pile of steaming cheese. But we gave her one last try with Massive Attack:



Yes, the video is utterly redonk, but I thought the song was pretty good and on this last point the Mama and I finally agreed: Nicki has a pretty impressive ass.

Music Monday on Sunday Making Up For Saturday

What it is, reader. As you may have noticed, I missed a day of posting yesterday, putting an end to my streak. Then I discovered that le kittehs had disconnected the wireless during a bout of feline frenzy. All is well now and I will make up for the missed post with a Music Monday on Sunday Making Up For Saturday!

Here's what I've been listening to:

Moby, Natural Blues. I just love this. It's very simple yet maddeningly catchy and soulful, comprised largely of this lyric line:

Oh lordy, trouble so hard
don't nobody know my troubles but God

(This isn't the actual video. I don't like it at all, so you're getting a wacky You Tube creation.)




I've been listening to Under a Blood Red Sky a lot, U2's live album from 1983. I have been listening to it since 1983, so ... 27 years? JESUS GOD. I AM FUCKING OLD.

One of my favorites is Party Girl. This is the best version of this song so I am very happy to have found it on teh interwebz:



Here's 40:



And from 1983's War, Seconds



Here my music journey took an interesting turn. I discovered that U2 had covered The Righteous Brother's Unchained Melody, which is a great song, but alas, U2's version was not at all good, so no video for you. Then I saw an Elvis version, which also wasn't good, sadly, so I let go of it. Then I encountered Suspicious Minds, which is a goody. Here's Elvis in his full-on white fringed jumpsuit and bloat, but still kicking ass and taking names:



We can't leave out the excellent cover by The Fine Young Cannibals!



Of course that's Jimmy Somerville's falsetto in the background. His band The Communards later covered disco megahit Don't Leave Me This Way:



Which was originally sung by Thelma Houston, aunt of Whitney and owner of a mad set of pipes:



And this was one of my mother's favorite songs. Enjoy, reader!

Wednesday Winefest

What it is, reader! I've just come off a Napa drunkfest with out of town visitors. My liver sort of hurts and the very idea of wine makes me feel a little queasy but let's not dwell on such unpleasantness and instead revel in grapey-ness.

Of the seven wineries we visited, my hands down favorite was Robert Biale. Known for their Zinfandels, they also had a great Sangiovese and other yummy reds that we enjoyed on the patio basking under heat lamps while chatting with the warm and knowledgeable staff. Tasting at Biale is by appointment only, as it turns out all the newer wineries are now per Napa County requirements.

Tasting room views:

Music Monday Meets Confessional Tuesday

Reader, I'm coming out of the closet.

I like some of the music of John Mayer.

Whew. That's a relief. It's no longer a dirty little secret between me and Pandora.

I know, I KNOW! He has said some of the douchiest things in recent pop star history. He should never allow himself to be interviewed, twittered or facebooked. Music and music only!

Bear with me, reader. Live is the only way to go here. Live, the whiff of cheese emitted by his studio work dissipates.

Two of my favorites:

Saturday Pause for Poetry

Reader, I heard Garrison Keillor read this on NPRs The Writer's Almanac while driving to work this morning.

Diagnosis

by Sharon Olds

By the time I was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me. I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood. My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long. My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face—
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She’s doing it now! Look!
She’s doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor. Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.

I assumed this would be a serious poem about a serious illness but it turned out to be not at all like that, but still sad, then funny, then sad.

Cuteness Friday

Reader, I exhausted myself with yesterday's post on the demise of the Paycheck Fairness Act, so this will be short and so, so sweet:



TGIF!

The Royal Wedding, Plus

November is a long month, reader.

So William and Kate are getting engaged. Frankly, this pair is a bit of a snore so I won't be making room in my cupboard for the commemorative mug but I am looking forward to seeing the dress. Kate, please don't disappoint.

I guess Facebook thinks they don't claim enough of our time. They've just announced a messaging service so they can no doubt mine more of our personal information and compromise more of our privacy. Why yes, I did just see The Social Network! Terrific writing (screenplay by Aaron Sorkin, as evidenced by rapid fire dialogue), wonderfully acted, especially Jessie Eisenberg as Mark Zucker. Where did this kid come from? He's like a Michael Cera with gravitas. Trailer for you:

Wait, Whut?

Reader, interesting news is afoot. Read on:

Jessica Simpson has announced her engagement to some football player she's been dating for seven months. A week after her ex Nick Lachey announced his engagement to his girlfriend Vanessa something or other. I get no pleasure in predicting there will be no wedding for Jessica.

As suspected since he resigned as Obama's chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel finally announced that he is indeed running for mayor of Chicago. I don't get this move at all. Any politically minded reader care to 'splain?

Please go look at the stunning creations of one Tex Saverio. He appears to be the heir of Alexander McQueen, may he rest in peace. Btw: highlight of a recent trip to Vegas was a visit to the Alexander McQueen store at the Wynn.

Gwyneth Paltrow sang "Country Strong" from her upcoming movie of the same name at the CMAs and it was real boring. No link for you, reader. Trust. Here she is guesting on Glee with "Forget You." Also boring. This whole paragraph is boring.

Friday Night Lights

What it is reader! Do you watch Friday Night Lights? I know, you don't. And I totally, totally understand why. Football? Texas? Who cares? Me, either.

Or so I thought. Urged on by my very favorite TV critic Tim Goodman and my very favorite football fan, The Mama, I took the plunge. And was immediately hooked. Hooked! This show is about a marriage and life in a small town. It is smartly written and terrifically acted. And just got canceled due to poor ratings. Don't let that stop you--this is the same viewing audience that garners Charlie Sheen over a million dollars for each episode of Two and a Half Men.

Tami and Eric Taylor just may be my very favorite TV couple. I guess others feel the same way--while trying to find a You Tube clip that captures their thoughtful, loving, sexy awesomeness, I unearthed tons of clip reels Tami/Eric fans had compiled, set to cheesy music. Now that's fandom! Here's a quick taste:



Also worth mentioning: this show is extremely wholesome. No cursing, violence or depicted sex. However lots of sex implied, largely involving crazy-sexy-alcoholic-with a-heart-of-gold Tim Riggins, played superbly by Taylor Kitsch, and Lyla Garrity, the impossibly gorgeous Minka Kelly, recently named Esquire's Sexiest Woman Alive. Who am I to disagree?