PBS PSA on finding Downton Abbey

You’re probably sick of reading about Downton Abbey at every turn, but if you’re not, or even if you are, but you just want to:

a) See what all the hype is about

b) See more after a marathon Netflix-streaming session

c) Put it on your DVR for eventual/immediate viewing

d) A few and/or all of the above

Here is a very important piece of information! You will not be able to find it on your channel listings by searching “Downton Abbey” (at least I wasn’t). It’s hiding behind the “Masterpiece Classics” title (at least it is on Time Warner, the shithead of all media). YOU’RE WELCOME.


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A service update for all two of you who’ve noticed my absence: I still exist, just not so much on the Internet. I’ve always believed in the golden rule of internetting: If you don’t have anything nice to say that doesn’t involve your baby, say nothing at all*. I can’t promise I’ll never mention my lack of sleep, baby poop or other baby-related things, but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. Not that I have any time to bore you with that stuff, anyway.

*Exception made for Facebook, which evidently only exists for parents to post photos of their little rug rats.


Kevin got a few things, too, though only after suffering through the usual round of complaints about how hard it was to buy presents for a man his age, as if adult males were completely self-sufficient beings, as if a penis and a five o’clock shadow were all they would ever need to get by.

Tom Perotta, The Leftovers

So, wait. You’re saying that isn’t all they need?


The geeks who made this game should be ashamed of themselves.

The geeks who made this game should be ashamed of themselves.


All the Shine
Childish Gambino
Camp
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Childish Gambino - “All The Shine”

This song is really good. Give it a listen, and give it a bit to kick in; your patience will be rewarded.

I’m beginning to think Donald Glover is some kind of Renaissance Man. He could probably knit you a nice sweater if you asked politely. He’s probably writing The Great American Novel right now. And I’ll bet he’s fluent in six languages (including Urdu). 


I’m Not Here for The Museums (or: Why I Secretly Love The Subway)

When people talk about why they live in New York City, they inevitably invoke the museums. Repeatedly. In near-manic tones.

“The museums!” They tell their far-flung friends and family who can’t imagine why they’d want to deal with the grime; the cramped, expensive spaces; the non-proximity to friends and family. “The museums are just unparalleled!” Then they add, breathlessly: “And the theater! The theater is just fantastic.”

Leaving aside the fact that this “I live here for the museums” stuff is a bunch of bullshit we’re all guilty of perpetuating at some point, it’s not the high art that drew me to (and potentially keeps me in) New York. Nope. For me, it’s the subways. Many of you will call me a liar, and more of you will question my sanity, reminding me of my many subway-related complaints (including one I made just a few days ago). But I have a lot of love for the ability to get around with relative convenience and frugality (without having to deal with parking, or, god forbid, valets), and to simultaneously observe humanity in all its failings and beauty.

The theater of the subway is far more varied and true-to-life (because it is life) than anything I’ve seen on the stage — even the embarrassing and “edgy” genitalia-baring off-broadway stuff. And sure, the Rembrandts and Hoppers are pretty magnificent, but those paintings are always the same; static, no matter how many times or how lengthily you stare at them, Ferris Bueller-at-the-museum-style.

Over the course of a few stops, you can witness performances both intentional and unintentional: Couples courting, dancers dancing, mariachis mariachi-ing. Not every performance is welcome. Your otherwise peaceful ride will certainly be ruined at some point by some loudmouth amateur preacher who insists he knows the only way to redemption, and he’s not going to shut up until you’re converted. But, hey, maybe you’ll learn something new about the Bible.

Interruptions notwithstanding, on the subway I can read a book (take that, podcast-and XM-dependent commuters in other cities!). I’d always claimed to be a Book Person, but it wasn’t until I had time to read on the train that I became a True Reader. And if I ever forget my book, I can dream up fictions based on the observations of people I’d never encounter were I speeding around in a discrete, four-wheeled sardine can: “This lady carrying an overpriced handbag lives in a brownstone with two over-educated toddlers and a philandering-writer husband; that too-handsome, early-20s guy is on his way to an audition for a play he’d rather not be in, but, hey, it’s a stepping stone; the tired woman in Winnie The Pooh nurse scrubs is contemplating the conversation she needs to have with her boss about overtime pay.”

Of course, tomorrow, when we descend into the hell that is the weekend-construction-addled subway commute, I’ll disown everything nice I’ve said about the trains. My relationship with the New York City subway isn’t a simple one. But I’ll tell you this: My trusty, pre-New York Honda Civic never inspired affectionate ramblings. So that’s something.


(People clamoring faintly)

Has anyone created a Tumblr or Twitter comprised of poetic moments from TV closed captioning? Mainly the kind describing nonverbal stuff that happens (such as the above). Sort of like a horse_ebooks for TV captions. If not, I think I figured out what I’ll be doing on my maternity leave (when I’m not being, you know, maternal).

In other words: Hey, free idea, Internet!


Lazy Tumbl

I have no idea how to reply to a reply. Is there a way? Please advise. (Advisement truly appreciated!)


Occupy Dog Street (@Brooklyn Howl-o-Ween Puppy Parade)

Occupy Dog Street (@Brooklyn Howl-o-Ween Puppy Parade)


Innovative promotional campaign?

Innovative promotional campaign?


Occupy Rockettes Knees

Occupy Rockettes Knees


Economic indicator?

Economic indicator?


Today’s allegedly the day the rapture will finally happen, but nobody’s really talking about it. I hope this turns out to be one of those if-we-ignore-it-won’t-happen scenarios because I never picked out my end-of-the-world outfit.


Right here, right now.

Right here, right now.


Just add the letter O to the end of every word. Duh.
Update: Or any vowel? With a special preference for I or A?

Just add the letter O to the end of every word. Duh.

Update: Or any vowel? With a special preference for I or A?