This week, I sat in on The A.V. Club’s True Detective review. My analysis: True Detective is a ghost story without a ghost, and with a heart of lurid pulp.
me: … so I put it on my Tumblr and—
The Fella: You don’t have a Tumblr.
The Fella: …
me: I’ve had a Tumblr for, like, a year and a half.
The Fella: You have a WordPress.
me: And I have a Tumblr. So I wrote it up on WordPress, then added it to my Tumblr and linked the Tumblr entry to the WordPress entry. And I should probably link the Tumblr entry back to the WordPress to close the loop.
The Fella: You have a Tumblr?
me: I have a Tumblr. I sometimes link my articles there, but I mostly use it for Social Justice Warrior stuff and cat gifs.
The Fella: You have a Tumblr.
me: I have a Tumblr. All those times I showed you silly cat videos from my Tumblr feed, you thought…?
The Fella: I thought you went to Tumblr.
me: Yeah, I have a Tumblr.
The corker: This conversation was about a post in which I made fun of men who don’t know women lead independent existences. If you’d like to know more about my independent existence, see my contact info on my about me page.
Just as the first season was preoccupied with cisgender white men’s desires and the second is preoccupied with their potency, the third season will center around cisgender white women’s bodies, featuring pervasive and powerful vaginal imagery; unsurprisingly, it will take place in the vast subterranean subway system of a major metropolitan center.
The central mystery of Chick Titzolotto’s True Detective S3: Do women exist when men aren’t looking, or do we wink out like a fridge light when you close the door?
[SCENE: A DARK BEDROOM. FEMALE LEAD lies in bed, staring moodily out a window at a light in the distance. Her male companion, whose name is not important, lies propped up on his elbow next to her, listening in attentive silence. She does not look at him.]
FEMALE LEAD: It’s all so uncertain. It’s like particle physics, or like a refrigerator light. It’s all so uncertain. It’s all so uncertain. It’s all so uncertain. Am I a particle or a wave? Do you know where I am, or what, or when? If you stop looking, do I still light up? Or do I just… wink out, like the light in the fridge?
[The distant light goes out. FEMALE LEAD exhales gustily, closes eyes. AND SCENE]
Thanks in advance for the Emmys.
note: Dennis Perkins gets a contributing creator credit on this project, but only under the stipulation that he’s credited as Penis Derkins.
Over at The VideoReport, fearless leader Bill Duggan has an announcement to make, former VideoReporters of years past have some memories to share, your tireless editor keeps on highlighting new releases, and I have one last recommendation for a free rental that will break your heart, and it should.
I’ve been trying to count up how many friendships, marriages, partnerships, and careers Videoport nurtured in that cool, well-stocked cellar, and I can’t even begin to tally ’em all up. Thank you, Videoport, for everything — for even more than the movies, when just the movies would have been gift enough.
From The Washington Post, my favorite map of the U.S.
Soooo, we’re just straight-up living in Night Vale, right?
At The A.V. Club, I review the first two episodes of Humans:
Humans could be as rote and vacant as its AI, referred to as “Synths,” are believed to be. Instead, this English-language remake of Sweden’s Real Humans is uncannily well-crafted, with an undercurrent of emotional depth that is occasionally surprising, even gratifying.