the share of folks not in the labor force remains near all-time highs-- my former grant funder
I was partially in error about Clarity Media's automat. Whatever unfathomable, mysterious reason, after offering my former editorial team a foul berating, I'm still receiving mails from AXS, in the calamitous state of affairs with the economics of content. I am sorely beginning to miss three dimensional space; haven't been back to my Examiner page. If it still exists. Worth more than the arthritis of my ligaments have put into it, I believe I'm worth more, I mean, than penny generated content. Maybe Morris believes she is worth more too, and would like to claw out Spielberg's eyes in a Minority Report rendition. It was her best role, getting Tom Cruise out of deep freeze in a good movie with a silly second sight premise. Women like Penelope Cruz seem to exist to get Cruise out of deep freeze.
Motifs associated with Morris to some extent. With objections to Cold Case otherwise noted, what it does differently is pace itself at the slow speed of reminiscence. It's best propaganda tool was its third oldest puzzle, Best Friends, and Tessa Thompson makes the most of her time on camera. The writers were clever, making it a girl crush, perhaps a transplant from the Harlem Renaissance. Could such affairs of the heart have occurred in Philadelphia in 1932? Between a moon faced Rosie and a minority fedora dyke? (I have a fondness for this male fashion statement which must mean I am repressing the liberating aspects of finding good pencil thin clit; get me to a psychoanalyst to embrace my deeply repressed bisexuality! That is what the LBGT activist terrorists would allege.) I doubt it. Caucasian male and a black woman, yes, but in 32 lesbianism did not exist as a recognized classification. Tessa's Billie dies not because of white male intolerance, but because the screen writers guild indulged in a progressive fairy tale. Yes, the jilted male beau gangs up on the pretty "darkie" girl, so the audience is offered a less than 30 second consequence, but it is still a dream sequence.
We'd react differently if this was transposed on Showtime, elongated into a drama series of depression era lesbianism between a maid and a bootlegger's sister. The world is not in fact shaded in back and white overtones with soft or harsh studio lighting. The writers in fact end the episode almost as if Rosie was a Victorian heroine, compensated for repressing her fascination with the attraction to the forbidden by being granted affluence, burying her dalliance within the safety of fantasy. One can see why Morris is cast between the fantastical and the futurist. Her countenance has that zeitgeist of the alien about it, otherworldly, living in her own dreamscape, whether we scrutinize her biography, chasing after what year she left Temple University after the rest of us, or not.
Showing posts with label cold case. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cold case. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Tin Men
"What if God was one of us?"-- Joan Osborne
My first thought, as the allegations against Cosby gathered steam last month, was: Why did these women never prosecute and file formal charges? My fear, 14 years ago, wasn't about going after my supervisor so much as it was how those on Philadelphia's Human Relations Commission would regard my depressive episode that followed in its wake. Then I think of my stepfather, Stuart, plying me with Jack Daniels. I too never prosecuted my mother's lovers for sexual assault. I too, never contacted the police about Miss Eddie from Unlimited Staffing.
It becomes increasing difficult to bear, with age, and yet no one wins here. People older than I too look on Cosby as a beloved figure. As a child, his projection of authority was a solidifying force, and perhaps date rape is more difficult to prove than a forensic examination of my email thread with Linda C Richman prior to her divorce: If I did go after Eddie legally, also, it is my word against hers, despite the prevalence of nursing aide abuse.
To protest that nothing is sacred doesn't mean I think Cosby's fractured image should be glued back together. It is an outcry, our faith always foundering on the shoals. In Helen Gurley Brown mode, with a middle of the road sentiment about men, their virility, and hands on slap and tickle, I had hoped this was about a grandee engaging in overly forceful groping, but the use of drugs screams out rape crime, loud and clear.
During my unexpected vacation, I had to re assess my physical ability to hold down traditional employment, and the axis is wobbly. As a lead in to what I've been turning round in my mind, Cold Case was never quite my cup of tea as a procedural, neither realistic nor fantastic enough to break its televisionish stodginess, but it had poignant sound tracks.
My first thought, as the allegations against Cosby gathered steam last month, was: Why did these women never prosecute and file formal charges? My fear, 14 years ago, wasn't about going after my supervisor so much as it was how those on Philadelphia's Human Relations Commission would regard my depressive episode that followed in its wake. Then I think of my stepfather, Stuart, plying me with Jack Daniels. I too never prosecuted my mother's lovers for sexual assault. I too, never contacted the police about Miss Eddie from Unlimited Staffing.
It becomes increasing difficult to bear, with age, and yet no one wins here. People older than I too look on Cosby as a beloved figure. As a child, his projection of authority was a solidifying force, and perhaps date rape is more difficult to prove than a forensic examination of my email thread with Linda C Richman prior to her divorce: If I did go after Eddie legally, also, it is my word against hers, despite the prevalence of nursing aide abuse.
To protest that nothing is sacred doesn't mean I think Cosby's fractured image should be glued back together. It is an outcry, our faith always foundering on the shoals. In Helen Gurley Brown mode, with a middle of the road sentiment about men, their virility, and hands on slap and tickle, I had hoped this was about a grandee engaging in overly forceful groping, but the use of drugs screams out rape crime, loud and clear.
During my unexpected vacation, I had to re assess my physical ability to hold down traditional employment, and the axis is wobbly. As a lead in to what I've been turning round in my mind, Cold Case was never quite my cup of tea as a procedural, neither realistic nor fantastic enough to break its televisionish stodginess, but it had poignant sound tracks.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Vivace It
I took the day off, feeling my failure more than you can see it; I did drop everything but a few paragraphs in here to try to put what I was doing together as a good proactive health piece, though I did not harass medical providers by phone because I know how they are in urban environments, and trying to find a lay professional to do a phone interview in the time I had would have required more clout than I own, and that isn't just about my ringing ears and misquoting. I did contact lay providers, but even that was a difficult penetration.
It is not that I'm giving up, but that I could not deliver what the editor needed in time, and I used to be able to do it, and it could even make me more corrosive still, I suppose, what this company as landlord and city and Liberty Resources have taken out of me, and in this taking off a day, I stayed with the traditional broadcast of the poverty stricken, and watched some Cold Case episodes, and reflected on the Zeljko Ivanek guest star, "One Night" where he plays a teacher with MS who kills twice.
In rare cases, MS does progress rapidly and kills, but I do not believe this occurs with a nearly life long remission. More importantly, people with lifelong illness do not kill because of the condition itself. If they go crazy it is because they are trapped, or had a brutal life.
I have ranted about Josie Byzek on this account, a woman who is deteriorating from the same condition as Ivanek's plagued antagonist, and shall let you in on the fact that I never had any emotional investment in New Mobility's managing editor. I actually found any proximity to her unpleasant, and think she is basically a one track mind Christian who, like Andrew Sullivan, needs to twist doctrine to rationalize her deity with homosexuality, and thinks personal testimonial is the apex of disability culture.
I don't. It isn't valueless, but at the end of the day it possibly cheapens the fact that perhaps some of us still want to matriculate in real world terms. I am just angry about what she did to me online. Linda, at least when her last name was Richman, was another matter. I was invested, personally loyal, and did not enjoy being treated like a plaything; things like these make able-bodied people dangerous, of course, when work becomes the main value of self identification, but they can break the disabled more.
The rationale for Zeljko's character, however, is a crock. No one goes out and kills high school aged males due to being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Cold Case, even though the series never quite sold me, seems to imply that the scales of justice cannot always rectify, and in a situation where you have a terminal murderer, as in the "One Night" of 2006, maybe it can't. Zeljko's teacher was a shade too humane to make this particular story line work. It doesn't make any sense.
It is not that I'm giving up, but that I could not deliver what the editor needed in time, and I used to be able to do it, and it could even make me more corrosive still, I suppose, what this company as landlord and city and Liberty Resources have taken out of me, and in this taking off a day, I stayed with the traditional broadcast of the poverty stricken, and watched some Cold Case episodes, and reflected on the Zeljko Ivanek guest star, "One Night" where he plays a teacher with MS who kills twice.
In rare cases, MS does progress rapidly and kills, but I do not believe this occurs with a nearly life long remission. More importantly, people with lifelong illness do not kill because of the condition itself. If they go crazy it is because they are trapped, or had a brutal life.
I have ranted about Josie Byzek on this account, a woman who is deteriorating from the same condition as Ivanek's plagued antagonist, and shall let you in on the fact that I never had any emotional investment in New Mobility's managing editor. I actually found any proximity to her unpleasant, and think she is basically a one track mind Christian who, like Andrew Sullivan, needs to twist doctrine to rationalize her deity with homosexuality, and thinks personal testimonial is the apex of disability culture.
I don't. It isn't valueless, but at the end of the day it possibly cheapens the fact that perhaps some of us still want to matriculate in real world terms. I am just angry about what she did to me online. Linda, at least when her last name was Richman, was another matter. I was invested, personally loyal, and did not enjoy being treated like a plaything; things like these make able-bodied people dangerous, of course, when work becomes the main value of self identification, but they can break the disabled more.
The rationale for Zeljko's character, however, is a crock. No one goes out and kills high school aged males due to being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Cold Case, even though the series never quite sold me, seems to imply that the scales of justice cannot always rectify, and in a situation where you have a terminal murderer, as in the "One Night" of 2006, maybe it can't. Zeljko's teacher was a shade too humane to make this particular story line work. It doesn't make any sense.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)