Everything Else

Friday Stream Of Consciousness

As we head off into the weekend here, and with nothing on or off the ice to discuss, I’m just going to spill out whatever is floating around this shaved dome of mine.

-I’d like to begin these proceedings by saying fuck Tiger Woods (sorry, George). Not because he’s a raging asshole who can’t stop sticking his piss pump wherever it will go. I don’t give a shit, and neither should you. Famous men will do that, especially famous athletes, and probably all of your favorites do. Don’t care that he was married, as I have pretty liberal views on the whole monogamy thing anyway (another talk for another time). Just don’t care, Jay Cutler (or Jake Utler).

What pisses me off about Tiger is that he used to be the perfect symbol of ruthless efficiency of sporting greatness. I’m not a huge golf fan, and am becoming less so now that I don’t really play any more. But I always watched when Tiger was in contention in a major. Because I want to see things done that haven’t been done before. It’s why I’m still an unabashed Roger Federer fan, even though that time has almost certainly passed. I want to see someone pile up more majors than anyone. To win more than anyone, and to make it look more and more effortless when it couldn’t be less so.

Just to watch some suburban country club dipshit or some shit-kickin’ club asshole from Georgia pop up to win his one major between chaws and then fade back into oblivion (until he chokes in the Ryder Cup because that’s what they always do) is not interesting television.

I don’t know what broke Tiger. I’d hate to think it was the notoriety of his private life. It probably has more to do with that knee surgery than anyone wants to mention. But watching him cough and spit putts anywhere but the hole is what the other guys do. He might was well be named Dustin or Hunter or Brooks now. What does it matter?

-Let’s move on to television, because why not? Anyway, I’m always a good month or more behind these things, but after a couple friends recommended it, I recently started and slammed through Orange Is The New Black on Netflix. I was wary at first, because Jenji Kohan’s last show, Weeds, fell off the rails so hardcore that it scarred me — though I’ll give it this, it did seem to embrace just how much it was jumping the shark and never, ever reached for the handbrake. But the last episode of Weeds was the worst piece of television in the medium’s history, and so far beyond anything the writers of Friends would have cooked up after a sheet of acid (sidenote: the producer of Friends once came to speak to a college class of mine. I got into an argument with him that got me kicked out and nearly caused me to fail the course. Good times).

However, I hoped Orange would at least something comparable to the first two or three seasons of Weeds, which were really good. And thankfully, it is at least that.

Much like that first Kohan show, it’s not the major characters that drive this. It’s the side characters. Not that Taylor Schilling as the main character Piper Chapman is bad. She’s just kind of there, but at times can be very good (her speech to the kid in the wheelchair about prison was probably her highlight). Laura Prepon at least doesn’t make me embarrassed for having a crush on Donna Pinciotti (though I understand that Prepon had to go with the black hair for this character, when will actresses stop going away from any shade of red hair? At least Scarlett Johansson came back to us).

But the rest of inmates and guards are pretty hilarious, if not a little hammy. The back-stories on how they got into prison can be a little campy, but not distractingly so. But Captain Janeway, Natasha Lyonne (even though she’s basically playing herself), and especially Uzo Aduba as Crazy Eyes are worth the price of admission. If you’ve got the time, check it out. And yes, it’s more than just prison lesbian sex.

Still have to get to Ray Donovan and The Bridge this summer. Hopefully I will.

-Thank god the Premier League starts next week.

-I get the feeling this Bears season has every chance of being an utter disaster. Which is kind of entertaining in its own right.

-37 days until The Replacements.



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