View from the West Coast

 

It is not because I am unhappy with the result. Not because I predicted the outcome more than once. No. I will not spend too much time on the recent national election because I have come to a place where I have seriously taken in the reality that such stuff is no longer about me… even when I want it to be… it just isn’t. Anymore.

I suppose I can take pride in having written more than once that America is a land where people watch TV and that Donald Trump… if nothing else… is good TV. What I didn’t see was much beyond the horizon of my own special Island.

Some of my readers might remember that even before The Donald came onto the political scene, I railed about the gulf between our economic classes being too wide and that it should surprise no one if it resulted in revolution.

The majority of my fellow citizens here off the coast of Miami and the Beaches vote Republican and they are mostly of an age and/or an economic class where that could arguably make sense (or, at least, might have in its day). But it is my own limited vision that I have put under scrutiny.

I sit on my Island where gasoline prices are not much of an issue… not directly. Hell, we don’t even have a place on the island that sells gas. My monthly dues have certainly increased… and once a year (maybe twice) the price of a hamburger on the Island is raised. That is more noticeable than the cost of a piece of sushi going up… I am none too sure why that is, but I think it is true.

My 401K has repaired nicely since Biden has been in office. The value of my unit on Fisher Island has soared. Medicare is great… covers just about all my needs. Hey, the economy is fine with this old guy.

I went to London earlier in the year. Everything there, from ice cream to hotel rooms, to theatre tickets, and (yes) petrol, was much more expensive than in the US. Biden/Harris must be doing a great job… right?

Obviously, folks … those out there off-Island… did not think so, and my view was proven to be myopic.

What can I say? I am not going to bust a gut over this… except, I have. That hernia surgery I had in mid-August did not hold and I need more surgery to repair what was done not so well in the first place. The good news? I am not a hypochondriac. My pain is real. The bad news? My pain is real.

The election, the aftermath, the failings of this nearly 87-year-old body are distracting me from such things as theatre… I turned down two potentially delightful trips to New York and have yet to see the latest version of Sunset Blvd. or the latest opening, A Wonderful World: The Louis Armstrong Musical. I understand both are terrific. But you cannot take my word for it. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. At least for a while.

The about to be hernia operation #2 will take place here in LA which means a delay in my return to my Island paradise. It is just as well. My Island is undergoing major renovations and upgrades to stay ahead of government edicts and the rising seas. I hope to get back home sometime in January, meaning I will be forced to spend Christmas among folks I know who like that holiday a whole lot better than I.

I became aware of at least two box office hits, Deadpool & Wolverine and Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and decided to be conscientious and prepare myself for giving these reviews by seeing a prequel to the Deadpool genre (the original Deadpool, for instance) and the first Beetlejuice … another one of those box office wonders I had never seen.

I didn’t like either one. Will probably not get around to watching Deadpool & Wolverine, let alone Beetlejuice Beetlejuice since I have herein debased my own credibility in this idiom. Millions… Billions maybe… have been spent by folks who love this stuff. I didn’t like sophomoric humor when I was a sophomore. Sorry. Go to the movies and judge for yourselves or, do what I am doing and keep watching MSNBC for clues.

The Diplomat (Netflix) is back for a second season. I liked season one, so I turned it on… have seen one episode. I intend to see more but I warn you… Do not do this without revisiting at least the last one or two episodes of season one to get you up to speed. These show runners are taking no prisoners and acting as if no time has passed since season one ended and season two began. Well, on screen … in their story… that is accurate. In actuality though… some of us have had lives and something like two years have gone by since the final episode of season one ended. I have friends who, because of the long wait, decided to watch season one all over again before diving into the new episodes. They liked it even better the second time. You might want to try that in lieu of Beetlejuice.

The Old Man is finally back for its second season on HULU and FX. Same thing applies here as it does to the above on The Diplomat but not as much. You have been warned.

The Academy channel provided me with the opportunity to view Three Daughters. Neither William Shakespeare nor Lear, his King, should fear replacement.

Amazon is presenting a post war English series, The Bletchley Circle, which I found wanting. The idea is worthy, the blatant sexism nicely introduced, but I have never seen so many women occupy so much screen time with so little sexuality. Even with an aching back, I missed that essential ingredient.

Scarlett Johansson stars in Fly Me to the Moon. It is either my aching back, my hernia, or Ms. Johansson’s semi-recent marriage but here again… even a superstar such as Ms. Johansson comes off as so much less sensual than usual… and this clever little movie suffers for it. I am going to blame the costume designer who went full bore (double entendre intended) to dress Ms. Johansson in the worst collection of 70s chic I have ever seen. It had to be deliberate. If Doris Day could look great in that kind of stuff why not Scarlett Johansson? Were I Mrs. Colin Jost, I would make it a standard clause in all future contracts that costume designer Mary Zophres not be allowed near any picture in which I had to appear wearing clothes.

Finally… in desperation… I turned on TMC and Woody Allen’s Hannah and Her Sisters. Not much to say, save for the fact that it is one of his best, that Barbara Hershey is sexier than all the best parts of all the above-mentioned women in all the aforementioned movies put together, and that Ms. Zophres might do well to study up Ms. Hershey’s look before damaging yet another movie.

Have you noticed what a better mood I am in when writing this stuff from my Island paradise? Just curious.