Robot Jazz

  It’s a cliché, yes, but one that endures because it’s true: a picture is worth a thousand words. And this one? Behold the literal, physical destruction being wrought upon the White House, not by foreign invaders as in the War of 1812, but by the man who swore to protect it, President Donald Trump: There’s another cliché that asks, “How do you know when a politician is lying?” The punchline: “His mouth is moving.” With Donald Trump, it’s less a joke than a governing principle.  Do you recall that when Trump announced the plans for his ballroom abomination, he pledged not to harm the existing structure of the White House? “It won’t interfere with the current building. It’ll be near it but not touching it.  And pays total respect to the existing building, which I’m the biggest fan of.”  That was back in July. Now, after the damage has been wrought, he declares , with a monarch's contemptuous sneer, that: “In order to do it properly, we had to take down the existing st...

  Once upon a time, the American right wing used to hold historical texts in high regard. Why, I recall countless rants by conservative talk radio hosts who were keeping lists of the number of times President Obama ran afoul of the Federalist Papers, the Constitution, or even Black's common law. Nowadays, not so much. Suddenly, the right has lost interest in the foundations of the American republic and is instead content to continue to implement the GOP convention platform of 2020, which read:  “RESOLVED, That the Republican Party has and will continue to enthusiastically support the President’s America-first agenda.” In other words, the putative conservative right represents only what Donald Trump says it represents, with its home, the once 'Grand Old Party', being reduced to a rubber-stamp plaything for Trump. But while the party of Lincoln and Reagan may have misplaced its historical texts, the American people have not. That enduring civic knowledge manifested itself ju...

  👄👄👄This is your regular reminder that we are 259 days into Donald Trump's Epstein cover-up. 👄👄👄👄 The last two weeks in my neck of the sprawl have been rather warm. This is not unusual. I recall one October a decade or so ago when it got so warm that the kids were passing out in their Halloween costumes! While it hasn't been quite that bad this October, it has definitely felt like we are suffering through Autumn's summer. As such, a weird sort of malaise has taken hold. For me, those cool, crisp days of fall bring with them a burst of energy, a need to fully and enthusiastically embrace the joys of indoor living, something I consider encompasses everything from scrubbing the house from top to bottom after a summer of neglect, to more frequently planting my butt in front of my electronic dream machines to imbibe the pleasures of a wired age. And while I have made some progress in those areas since Autumn has officially begun, it has felt like an uphill battle as the ...

  "Don’t feel bad. Your tutor was Noah Hawley.” “Everyone’s a critic!” So goes the complaint of creatives the world over. And in a world awash in social media, where monetized outrage can turn a hate channel into a revenue stream, it’s easy to see why. While I can be critical of entertainment, I like to think I’m forgiving with most creative efforts. Case in point: I recently watched a much-lauded Korean neo-noir that struck me as disappointingly cornball, with action sequences so outlandish they’d make Michael Bay blush. I didn’t care for it—but I could see why others might. Hence, no takedown from me. But every now and then, you encounter something so poorly made, so narratively botched, that silence would be a disservice to fandom at large. Like a pool of acid, it demands barriers, warning tape, and a hazmat suit. That spill is Noah Hawley’s Alien Earth . And this post is your warning to avoid it like the wreck of an otherworldly spaceship on LV-426.  👽👽👽👽👽 To be clear...