Made in Detroit. No frills, reasonably priced. You can have it in any color, as long as it’s black. The Type A, natch. #ohhenry
…in which the local-food movement is colonized by a corporation. It’s a huge Betty Crocker thing. For Sweetest Day, get it? GET IT?
Count me among those who were underwhelmed by most of the just-concluded “Mad Men” season, but blown away by the finale. It’s a hard thing to do, to drag out an unpleasant story for 10 or so hours and then turn on a dime and make you see why it had to go like that. It certainly wasn’t perfect — I could see a million squandered opportunities to flesh out lesser characters and bring them to bear on the main plot lines, but ultimately, eh, that’s showbiz.
I think it was hearing Judy Collins singing “Both Sides Now” over the credits, a song that applies to most of the main characters (especially Peggy), and is sort of sentimental, but worked more or less perfectly.
I’m easy to please in these matters. I loved it. Now to wait another year.
“Low Winter Sun,” the show they’ve been promo-ing during the last few episodes, is being shot in Detroit as we speak. The executive producer is renting on a one-block-long oasis street called Harbor Island, one of those little-known places that never gets mentioned in the national stories about the decline of Detroit.
Speaking of which, this Michael Barone piece in RealClearPolitics is a perfect example of the form — the ignorant Detroit essay. You’ll never guess what caused our current predicament. Ready? Lean in close: Liberals. I know, I’m as amazed as you are. Deadline Detroit runs down the inaccuracies.
If you didn’t see Sherri’s link to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ piece on Paula Deen, it’s here. And it’s good.
For those of you paying attention, it’s looking like Wendy may stick as the dog’s name. I got her a dog-park pass today, which catapulted her quality of life well beyond that of many Detroit children. That’s the unfortunate truth around here: A Grosse Pointe dog will live better than thousands of human beings in the city next door. She has: a comfortable place to sleep, high-quality food, focused attention, medical care and, now, a pass to a restricted park reading “Wendy Derringer.” She’s looked at life from both sides now. I ask you.
It’s Good Friday, and if y’all don’t mind, it’s still Holy Thursday as I write this and I really want to watch “Top of the Lake” on demand and practice my Oz accent.
Here’s something: I have been trying (unsuccessfully, so far) to get this guy, John Corvino, to write for Bridge. He’s a friend of a friend, and recently published a book, “What’s Wrong With Homosexuality?” Corvino teaches philosophy at Wayne State, and approaches these questions from his discipline. I’ve seen him lecture, and he’s terrific.
In connection with his book, he’s released a collection of YouTube videos that breaks the big question down into small pieces. You might like to watch a few of them on this slow Good Friday. Or maybe not. But here they are.
Have a great holiday, all. See you Monday. April Fool’s. We’ll have some fun.
One thing I love about Detroit: All these ethnicities have their own food traditions. And they’re all sold in the markets.
Hey there, I’m back. I wrote something for today, reconsidered it, and decided I’d rather talk Oscars instead — that is to say, listen to you people talk Oscars. So talk it up.
Meanwhile, here’s a photo from the Forever XXI store on North Michigan Avenue in Chicago. I hate that store; I always get the sense the blood from the child laborers who make the clothing is thisclose to dripping onto the floor. And so much of it is hideous. When Kate and I shop, I will sometimes tell her a dress is “a little too Russian prostitute” for me to approve. When it’s really bad, it’s “Siberian prostitute.” Behold, some Siberian prostitute shoes:
See you tomorrow.