On the Box

Well shiver me timbers, if I haven't finally solved the riddle of the non-compliant comments. I had reached the point where I couldn't comment on anyone's blog who had word verification enabled, and when Kevin went to mine from a different computer, the same seemed to be true. I had already cleared the cache and rebooted and really was just thinking it was a Blogger problem except that other people were managing to comment, although sometimes with difficulty. Actually, in retrospect, I think it was a Blogger problem to begin with - and then it became mine.

The weather continues grey and rainy and I think we've seen the last of the snow. Too bad, but at least we've had some.

We've watched a couple of films, or filums in the Irish vernacular. The Departed was excellent, yet again, Scorsese showing us that it's not just Italians who ... and there I have to stop and think, I need a verb which means 'to rule by being mafia', to mafiose, ok, it's not just Italians who mafiose. Remember to mentally pronounce 'Italians' 'Eye-talians'. Brilliant it were.

Yesterday, Laurence wanted us to all watch an old film, 'Of Mice and Men', the version from 1992 with Gary Sinese and John Malkovich. He remembers reading this book at school. I'm sure that we didn't read any American authors when I was at school, although I do recall someone once mentioning 'The Grapes of Wrath' en passant. We did however get to wrestle with James Joyce's 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man'. Stephen Dedalus still haunts me, which I suppose I could interpret as James Joyce haunting me.

Finally, finally, I recorded and watched Boston Legal, having an odd feeling of déjà vu, although I then realised it was more déjà entendu, and that someone had been telling me the plot earlier in the week. Bill Shatner continues to be marvellous.

My friend Ree, from time to time had mentioned 'Nip, Tuck' and I realised it hadn't been on our TV in a while. Well, last night while searching for something else, I noticed it. No information, just this, 'Pungent Plastic Surgeon drama'. Pungent? Does the drama itself smell strongly, or just the surgeons. Quite, quite bizarre.

On Rome, which I swear goes from strength to strength, because Herod - couldn't quite remember which one - was in town to ask for support in keeping his people in check, the city crier made this pronouncement,
'All mockery of Jews and their one God must be kept to an appropriate minimum,' ah, such tolerance in those days.

The L-Word saw evil Eric Roberts take his son back from Shane, and Cybil Shepherd's screen husband comes round to join in the fun in Alice's bedroom and ask what is it, what does Alice have that women can't resist. How has she made his wife into a lesbian? And a raging one no less.

The superb Studio 60 has vanished, never to return. Life is harsh in television. If only ten million more people had watched it every week it would have been saved, and so another imaginary world dies, the story never to be finished. Matthew Perry was great in this, it showed that he was a real, grown-up actor. And Dawn from 'the Office' was good too.
Too bad for all of them.