As the swine flu outbreak continues spreading, an Israeli health official is making waves by saying the name should be changed to “Mexican” flu, because the reference to pigs is offensive to Jews and Muslims, who consider pigs unclean and forbid the eating of pork products.
Continue Reading “A “Sometimes I’m embarrassed to be a Jew” moment”
His hands moved rhythmically, spurred on by ancient, guttural tones. The lights flickered, spasming like a fish too far from water, or a careless electrician.
Jakob’s face stressed and contorted. Sweat began to bead on his over-long forehead. His eyes rolled back, his body slacked. He was done.
So “Chuck” and “Heroes” both had their season finales on Monday. Thoughts, including frankly unavoidable spoilers, follow.
HEROES: I’ve been patient this season. Honest to God, I have. In a season that seemed preoccupied with depowering Hiro, knocking off blonde heroines, Sylar flipflopping between hero and villain (he’s a freaking serial killer of innocent people; HOW can he be a hero?), and a plotline that moved at a glacial pace (at the beginning they were busy rounding up heroes, and as of the last episode, they were…still rounding up heroes), and the snore-inducing opening and closing narration, I have stuck with it.
And what’s our payoff?
Nathan is brutally killed by Sylar, and Sylar is brainwashed into pretending to be Nathan. And it’s all his mother’s idea.
Am I the only one who thinks that’s sick? A cop out? Revolting? Borderline necrophilia? Mother Petrelli doesn’t want Nathan out of her life, and so she transforms Nathan’s killer into Nathanmania, an incredible simulation? How about she wants him dead because he just slaughtered her son and will, without question, kill again? Oh, but what will the president say if he discovers that a senator was killed by someone with powers? How about if he’s told, “This guy killed Nathan Petrelli, but we put him down like the rabid dog he is so he’ll never hurt anyone again.”
The notion that she’s keeping her son’s killer around, looking at him every day and pretending he’s her son…it’s hideous. And Peter is supposed to treat him like his brother? Claire like her father? It’s an exercise in cruelty for all concerned. It’s madness.
And what’s the outcome of the major storyline? That the president suddenly decides that heroes might be of benefit to the government and therefore the government should work with them? “Hey, guys, sorry we were rounding you up. How about we employ you instead?” They couldn’t have thought of that earlier?
Nothing worked for me. Nothing made sense to me. Nothing rang true for me. I may check it out next season, but I’ll have this series on a VERY short leash.
CHUCK: On the other hand has gone from strength to strength. Over a period of time the characters have grown, become deeper, more layered, more lovable, with some of the best cast chemistry on the air. The addition of Scott Bakula to the cast (however temporary) and the jaw-dropping revelations that entailed were nothing short of brilliant. The loopy wedding performance by “Jeffter” contrasted with the firefight in the wedding reception room was deftly edited, the introduction of a new (or expanded) villainous outfit was well executed, and if one of the key dramatic beats was predictable (you just knew Chuck had to get the intersect back in his head) they nevertheless built upon that and gave us an ášš-kicking climax that was genuinely exhilarating (not to mention worth it just for Sarah’s and Casey’s reactions. I want a t-shirt of Casey saying, “Chuck me!”
“Chuck” has had miserable ratings luck, ranging from a strike-truncated first season to a heavily promoted episode being derailed by an Obama speech. Plus the competition from “Dancing With the Stars” has been brutal. Consequently it’s iffy as to whether the show will be renewed. I sure hope so.
PAD
Originally published April 17, 1992
Well, I’m taking a one-week break from my travelogue of my Scotland trip in order to deal (in as expedient a manner as I can) with a question I’m getting repeatedly: When in hëll did I say that I “will categorically never do a book for Image”?
“Jaaaakob,” came the soft dulcet tones that sent a lick of fire scampering through his veins before plummeting downwards. As the figure stepped into a shaft of moonlight, Bela’s sweetly curved face and glistening russet hair tilted up towards him.
They stood together for what seemed an endless moment, trapped in the glow and gazing at each other. Jakob’s hand gripped the voluptuous potato, digging his fingers into the flesh as its juices escaped, dripping down his fingers. How could he have forgotten this? The way the smell of her made him itch inside his very soul? He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Woeisme was a forced infatuation he had deluded himself with, if only to forget .. to forget the way she looked right into him.
He lifted the potato up helplessly to her. The wetness where he had gripped it caught the glow of moonlight. Lips curved in soft humor, her eyes traveled down to gaze at the juicy russet nestled securely in his large hand. An eyebrow arched and a flash of hunger glimmered deep within the warm dark pools of her eyes.
“What are you offering me Jakob?”
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