After the final episode of the abruptly canceled Nightly Show this past Thursday, I stuck around to watch @Midnight. With the quadrennial carnivals that are the US Presidential campaign and the Summer Olympics providing no shortage of springboards for Twit-friendly humor, I’m assuming we have Chris Hardwick’s Saturday wedding and the program's attendant two-week hiatus to thank for the evening’s mundane Hashtag Wars category: #BirdTV. Personally, I enjoy having an evergreen topic to riff on given that updates to the blog will continue to be infrequent for some months, so here, minus a few (bird)brainstorms that I’d seen others beat me to when I took a quick scroll through the feed on Twitter, are…
My Top Twenty-Six Avian Television Shows
26 America’s Got Talons
25. The Young and the Nestless
24. Feather Knows Best
23. Sesame Tweet
22. Make Room for Dodos
21. Harpy Days
19. The Eggs Files
I’m sure that most of you are familiar by now with James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke, a — really, the — standout feature of his brief tenure as host of The Late Late Show on CBS. You’ve already seen its latest installment, in which Corden drives around Manhattan with Lin-Manuel Miranda, Audra MacDonald, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, and Jane Krakowski. So you don’t need me to link to it.
But I just did anyway.
Nor do you need me to tell you that Corden will host the 70th Annual Tony Awards telecast, in which Miranda’s smash-hit musical Hamilton is nominated for a record 16 awards, on that same network this coming Sunday at 8 p.m. ET.
Photo of No. 4 Andrés Blanco getting high-fived by No. 3 David Lough © 2016 MLB/Phillies.
The Philadelphia Inquirer ran a nice profile of Andrés Blanco on Thursday. I can definitely appreciate a hot power hitter, dominant pitcher, or shortstop who owns his zone, but there's something that resonates with me about a reliable utility player shining when subbed in and given an occasional start. Blanco — signed out of Venezuela by the Kansas City Royals’ organization at 16 years old, yet only now playing in the majors full-time at twice that age — is such a guy on an underdog team that sure needs him. Seeing that he grinds out the practice, respects his success, and gives back to his community makes it all the better. The Phillies hope that rebuilding for the future doesn't mean entirely failing to contend today; me, I hope that whenever things do turn around again Blanco is here for it.
Kindred Posts: Numbers Game • Hello, Goodbye • This One Goes to Eleven
ABC finally canceled Marvel’s Agent Carter last week. The short-run winter series, which spelled the fall and spring halves of Agents of SHIELD these past two years, had been a ratings disappointment. Once star Hayley Atwell was cast by the network in a potential regular-season legal drama, now picked up to series, writing met wall.
You can’t entirely blame ABC, who clearly wants to be in business with Atwell.
SHIELD itself hasn't exactly been a ratings bonanza — due in part to ongoing identity crises, tensions between Marvel’s film and television enterprises that leave the big-screen blockbusters bereft of nearly any reference to (and, thus, what should be no-brainer promotion of) the show, and the general demands that “peak TV” has put on viewers’ time. I’ve enjoyed both SHIELD and Carter, however, even as what they do well makes my frustration over what they could be doing better all the greater.
Stella Saner would have been 100 years old today, had she not passed early in the morning of January 21st with her daughter, my mother, at her side.
Here’s a lightly edited version of what I wrote to read at her memorial service.
Top: Stella Saner in 1946 with her husband, Leon, and two
daughters, Ronda and Sherie. Bottom: Stella with Sherie in 2015.
I have a distinct memory of being in my grandparents’ bedroom in the pink house in Wildwood — not sure I’m even in the double digits at this point — as Grandmom tells me that while the face in her mirror keeps getting older she doesn’t feel any older inside.
Technical problems here and other projects demanding my attention mean that the blog will continue to be very light on new content for a while, so the Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup can is long overdue for display. More to come sooner rather than later, hopefully, including the restoration of a few recent posts that got taken down. Please check in every now and then.
I’m plodding through some kind of marshland canal in a Colonial Era village at dusk. Muddy and wet, I stop in a cabin to warm up, strip my clothes off, and grab some new ones that had been left there to dry by the fire. Then, after stealing into the night once more, I enter another house by the back door with hopes of making it out the front unseen — only to discover a youthful fortysomething David Bowie, in appropriate period dress and with his sandy blond hair rakishly tousled, cooking over a stove.
“Are you leaving us, then?” he asks.
“Yes,” I tell him, or maybe I just nod, and I exit. I pause with second thoughts, however, then head in again. Extending my hand, I say, “I’ve been a tremendous admirer since I was a kid. I just wanted to thank you.” He is gracious. I wake up.
Kindred Posts: REM Brands • Head Space • David Bowie 1947-2016