◗ So, where’s all that snow we were s’pposed to get?
Hey, not that I’m complaining. Loyal readers know all about my feelings for winter.
◗ Anyway, the Book Corner is closed today, so stay home and read whatchyu got.
◗ The electricity at Chez Big Mike and the world headquarters of this communications colossus went out for only a second or two last night. Nevertheless, The Loved One and I loaded up our pockets with flashlights and transistor radios and started thinking about calling around for hotels that accept pets.
◗ Which reminds me, our palatial estate is now the new home of Sally the Dog.
I’d been seeing her loitering around the back yard for a few days a couple of weeks ago and then, one day when The Loved One was out with Steve the Dog, she came up to them. Natch, T-Lo couldn’t resist her so she leashed her. T-Lo lugged her over to the Bloomington Animal Shelter where the dog was checked for disease and to make sure she wasn’t affiliated with al Qaeda. We were then designated as her “Angels” so that, after a week or so if nobody claimed her, we’d get first dibs. And we did.
When we got her home, she and Steve the Dog had to do a little negotiating over who’s who and what’s what, but no blood was drawn. She seems mostly thankful that she doesn’t have to sleep outside in the deep freeze.
The cats, Terra & Kofi, did their obligatory sniffing around and deemed her innocuous so they have given her the official feline imprimatur: They ignore her.
Only problem is she’s not versed in the manners and mores of ridding her bony little body of waste. And, being a pup, she is still pretty much a poo machine. So there’s the matter of picking up unexploded bombs twice a day and telling her in no uncertain terms that this just won’t do. She just looks at us with sad eyes. It’s going to take a while before she catches on, I’m afraid.
The Loved One couldn’t be happier.
Speaking of T-Lo, we just finished watching the John Adams biopic mini-series on Netflix. You may recall, it was an HBO production that came out in 2008 and starred Paul Giamatti as J.A. and Laura Linney as Abigail A.
Paul Giamatti as John Adams
It was good stuff, as long as you keep in mind that H-wood isn’t terribly interested in historical accuracy. Then again, most reviewers hold that the series held reasonably true to David McCullough’s eponymous biography, upon which the series was based.
Giamatti (the son of former baseball commissioner and president of Yale University, A. Bartlett Giamatti) is one of our finest actors and brought J.A. across as a courageous, thoughtful, progressive revolutionary, albeit one with thin skin and an occasionally self-defeating ego. Linney (who’s a dead ringer for the Laughing Planet manager, Michelle) is also a top-flight thesp.
Laura Linney as Abigail Adams
The key subplot of the thing was how Abigail advised, pushed, scolded, cheered and, at times, plotted the course of her husband’s career (and, by extension, the future of the as yet unborn nation).
[Spoiler alert] The last scene of the 7-part series portrays J.A. & A.A. returning to their long-neglected homestead after the revolution victory to find it has been trashed and squatted in. J.A. has just been elected the second prez of the US, after hearing George Washington grumble that the job isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Adams is wracked by tooth pain and seems beaten down by the events of the last couple of decades. He slumps in a chair in his old home and seems doomed never to have to get up out of it again.
Abigail, who is forever on the move, chides him. “Rise up, John. Rise up.” And he does. Fade to black.
At which point I commented: “So, she was the driver. She was the power behind the man.”
And you know what? T-Lo gave me a lecture.
She said: That’s what a man would say. She only had as much power as men would allow her. It’s always been like that. How powerful could she have been if she had real freedom? Things are still pretty much like that today. And, As long as women can only have as much power as men will give them, they aren’t powerful at all.
And you know what, again? T-Lo is right.
Invisible Men & Women
Ramiro Gomez has spent the last few years living among the fabulous, the beautiful, and the wealthy of Hollywood Hills. He makes his daily bread as a live-in nanny there.
Seeing the upper crust every day in its natural habitat, he realized that their privileged life is utterly dependent upon a population of intentionally unseen, ignored human beings, mostly Mexican immigrants, who make things go.
An artist, Gomez decided to add images of these invisibles to found photos of luxury. The ghostly maids, pool cleaners, and valet parkers in Gomez’s works remind us that although we are indeed a more equitable society than ever before, we’ve still got a hell of a long way to go.
Work By Ramiro Gomez
Check out Gomez’s stuff here and here.
[h/t to Jerry Boyle.]