What am I passionate about today? Nothing, really. Nor was I passionate yesterday, so I didn't write anything original on my blog. I posted a joke from my good friend Paul (A.), and I reached
for the bottom to celebrate the 200th birthday of
Pride and Prejudice,
Jane Austen's
chef-d'oeuvre, by quoting myself, surely the nadir in blogging creativity. Nor was I passionate on the day before. I wanted to be entertained and amused, rather than offer entertainment and amusement. So what did I do with all the free time on Sunday? I attended the annual church meeting and the service that followed and did a little shopping for a few necessities on the way home.
When I returned home, I put my up my feet and finished the book I was reading,
The Soldier's Wife by Joanna Trollope, light fiction which I need from time to time to clear my brain. Next up were three episodes of the TV series
Treme on DVD, which I'm receiving in sequence from Netflix and watching for the first time, because we do not subscribe to HBO. I'm loving the series. The creators and actors in the show get New Orleans as right as any show or movie I've seen, and I've seen my share of attempts that were excruciatingly awful. I find myself jotting down some of the best dialogue from the show and whatever else looks good and funny. Caution: Strong language.
LaDonna Batiste-Williams, on the refusal by her musician brother, Delmond Lambreaux, who has moved to NYC, to stay in New Orleans for a while to help their father, Albert, a Mardi Gras Indian chief, whose home has been destroyed:
Delmond: "I got a gig."
LaDonna: "We all got a gig. That's goddam life."
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Creighton Bernette, a professor of English at Tulane University speaking with a reporter in th days following the disaster:
Reporter: For the sake of argument, let's say New Orleans was, once, a great city...
Creighton: Are you saying that New Orleans is not a great city, a city that lives in the imagination of the world?
Reporter:
I suppose if you're a fan of the music, which has rather seen it's day,
let's be honest. Or the food, a provincial cuisine which many would say
is typically American: too fat; too rich. And, yes of course, New
Orleans has its advocates, but what about the rest of the country?
Creighton:
Provincial, passé, hate the food, hate the music, hate the city. What
the fuck are you doin' down here you fuckin' limey vulture motherfucker?
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Creighton: "This ain't Lake Wobegone, goddamit!"
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Themes for some of the floats in the
Krewe de Vieux parade as shown in the show during the first Mardi Gras following Katrina and the federal flood:
"C'est Levee!"
"Buy us back, Chirac!"
"Mandatory Ejaculation"
"France, please buy us back!" was an oft-heard expression of disgust and frustration at the efforts of all levels of government in the aftermath of Katrina and the federal flood.
Close on the heels of
Treme came
Downton Abbey, which I remembered to watch, unlike the previous Sunday, when I had to wait for the replay on Monday and watch on the computer. If you've watched both TV shows, you know what a mind-bending adjustment is required for the transition. If you haven't, then you'll have to take my word for it.
Spoiler alert! Do not read further if you haven't watched the episode and want to watch later. The death of Sybil, the sweetest of the three Grantham daughters, was very sad and perhaps unnecessary. When the time drew near for Sibyl to deliver, Lord Grantham insisted on calling the "town" doctor, Sir Philip Tapsell, rather than have the kindly local Dr Clarkson attend the birth, because he wanted the best for his daughter, I knew there would be trouble. And Lady Grantham wished to heed the advice of good Dr Clarkson, which, if followed, might have saved Sybil's life. Alas.
Bates' story is being drawn out to the point of tedium. If suspense over Bates' fate is intended to keep us interested in watching Downton Abbey, then the effect on me is the opposite. Please get on with the story.
Passion comes, and passion goes. Before too very long, I assume some bit of news of the stupidity of people in high places will come along and rouse my passion once again.
Cartoon from someecards.
Yesterday afternoon, while the rest of the country was in breathless anticipation of the Super Bowl, I began to watch the first of two episodes of the HBO series, Treme, which takes place in post-Katrina-and-the-federal-flood New Orleans. At game time, I continued on with the next episode of the series. The story turned sad in quite a surprising way to me, so startling that, for a while, I could not believe what had happened. I don't want to spoil the story, because I hope some of you will consider watching the series, since it is the best expression of the soul of the city of New Orleans that I have ever seen in a movie or TV drama.
Spoiler alert! Once again, I made the wrenching transition from New Orleans to Downton Abbey and post-World-War-I England. Of course, the Crawley family is still grieving the death of Lady Sybil, and there's a row about the baptism, with Tom Branson wanting his child baptized Catholic. Poor Lord Grantham seems to be out of touch with the rest of the family on just about every level. It seems only Carson stands with him to maintain traditional values. The Crawley ladies won't follow him when he appears at a ladies luncheon at Mrs Isobel Crawley's house and orders them out because the cook, Ethel, is a former prostitute, and he doesn't want their reputations besmirched. Says the Dowager Countess of Grantham: "It seems a pity to miss such a good pudding." And that settles the matter, Lord Grantham leaves alone. 
