Saturday, July 27, 2013

Lucky Fox Furs

To engage in my usual pattern of disrupting new found efforts at thematic generation, I caught the same preview you did of the new Michael J. Fox series. While it is good that his Parkinson's is included, and the *community integration* sophists have made enough in roads so that the screen writers guild can ask for laughs about progressive conditions, the series doesn't offer anything new in terms of the notes this eighties comic actor can hit, riding solely on his commanding preening for the girls. I peeked at his memoir years ago when I still actively browsed in Barnes & Noble; found his voice more methodical than I would have supposed, contrasted with the on screen persona. He isn't a bad writer, especially now that he is the archetype of tragedy transforming him into an emblematic voice for those disenfranchised by spiraling deterioration.

I think we take the wrong approach to the doomsday conditions. Easy for me to say and what if it was your child?

I hear you, but I am looking through the lens of hundreds of dramas and miseries. Turning over my rocks

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