Everybody Should Be Watching HBO’s ‘Enlightened’ by Michelle Dean
Admission: I was slow to really love Enlightened. I liked it from the pilot, watched it week-to-week, and occasionally allowed Laura Dern to suckerpunch me with overwhelming feelings but it took until the season one finale for me to realize how much I truly loved it and this weird world and fucked up character and everything in between. Anyway, there’s been a lot of great, great writing about Enlightened all over the internet recently which makes me happy but I especially want to highlight this one because Mike White’s work is so good and there’s this strange quietness and importance to it, even way back in his Freaks & Geeks episodes, and I’m so glad he got a second season.(via synecdoche)
S01E02 - Be A Pal
S02E01 - Job Switching
To date, the most important moment in Series Four of The Thick of It.
- Don Draper has to compete against his shadow self in the ad olympics while an old flame (played by a wig that’s on fire) sits on the judge’s committee.
- People in the office start wearing cold cuts on their face. Can there ever be peace between the Clean Chins and the Meatbeards?
- A kangaroo kidnaps a few of the Mads and hides them in her pouch, but that kangaroo isn’t evil, she’s just lonely.
- There’s something sticky on the phone so no one wants to answer it.- Don realizes he can actually wear 20 rings if he just puts one on top of the other. Can he make that 40? (2 part episode)
- Don’s dog, Dog Draper, begins working for a rival firm (the CIA).
- Roger bets everyone that he can eat an entire gravel driveway. He eats one piece at a time, every 2 weeks. How long will it take him?
- The Mads think there might be a dolphin locked in a file cabinet, but everyone is too scared to open it.
- Accidentally breaking a vase leads Joan to discover that all the objects in her apartment are actually made of hair.
- Pete begins purchasing everyone’s reflection leading to a shake-up at the firm.
- Joan becomes convinced she ate a ghost while she was asleep.
- Every piece of dialog is just the word ‘porcelain.’
Bold statement: Fawlty Towers is the funniest television show ever written. And Basil Fawlty is one of the best characters ever written. I like to think of him as a proto-Malcolm Tucker: always angry, constantly and seemingly effortlessly sniping at staff and guests, with insults at least as witty as Iannucci’s.
Every word and every line is delivered just so (Cleese was such a perfectionist that some episodes took months to finish). It’s really quite a treat to watch. I was going to embed a different clip, but I stumbled on this supercut of “Basil-isms” as I was writing this that illustrates him quite perfectly.
I beg of you, watch every episode of this perfect television show. It won’t take long. They only made 12 episodes, which is a crime far greater than the early retirement of Arrested Development.
Bold statement of truth.
I read this whole article and it felt like a classic example of how Northerners can never quite understand the Southern spirit. They always focus on things they consider to be “embarrassing” or go really deep on sociological theory and don’t see the happiness and love right in front of their face. Not that there isn’t a big heap of problems with Southern culture (THERE DEFINITELY IS), but there’s a lot of good there too, and you can’t appreciate it if you rely strictly on your rational mind. I’d recommend watching Searching For The Wrong-Eyed Jesus to maybe get a better understanding.(via dalasverdugo)
A couple discusses how funny Jerry is.
202. The Pony Remark
Arrested Development for Netflix. IT’S ALIVE. This is what the writer’s room looks like.
Breaking Bad, 4x01: “Box Cutter” (2011)
After reading [the script], I was a little bit shaken and I put it down. I had no doubt in my ability to be able to make it all happen, but I had some deep concern about being able to do it and coming out of it unscathed, without really hurting my spirit and my soul. — Giancarlo Esposito 
People are going to think this is maudlin or just plain silly, but I think I need to say it: I learned a lot about being a father from Andy Griffith. Or rather from Andy Taylor, the character he played on The Andy Griffith Show. (I owe as much to the show’s writers as to the actor.)
My own father was in prison for much of my childhood, and when he got out was — to be frank — either absent or drunkenly angry. Once, when I was about thirteen, I thought I had broken my arm after a fall in a pickup basketball game, and he just backhanded me across the injured arm and told me to stop being a pansy. When my wrist continued to swell and throb, my mother finally took me to the emergency room, and x-rays revealed the break. About this my father was silent. I relate this as an exemplary, not a unique, story.
When I was a teenager, and The Andy Griffith Show reruns turned up on TV a lot, the episodes that struck me the most forcibly were the ones in which Andy made mistakes in raising his son Opie, and responded to those mistakes by apologizing. It’s not too strong to say that I was awestruck by this behavior. None of his mistakes seemed massive to me; they arose from the misunderstandings, the cross-purposes, that are endemic to human attempts to communicate with one another. If anything, Opie was overreacting, or so I thought. (Didn’t he know how lucky he was to have such a cool dad?)
But once Andy came to see that he had inadvertently hurt his son, the next step was, to him, obvious: he went to Opie, looked him in the eye, asked his forgiveness, and told him that he loved him. The power of repression is such that I had to watch each of those episodes several times before I could account for the fascination they held for me. But when I finally grasped the point, I said to myself, “If I’m ever a father, that’s the kind of father I’m going to be.”
Okay but really this is the best three minutes of music ever written for television.
what r u guys doing