Capsule review of the 7-episode television phenomenon “Big Little Lies”

thoughts recorded over the course of an extremely lazy day spent watching HBO’s 7-episode sensation “Big Little Lies”

(three times an episode for the first five episodes) OK. a better name would definitely be Rich White Bitches.

(last two episodes) Hmmmm. Perhaps these bitches aren’t so bad after all.

*SPOILERS**(FINAL EPISODE)********The bitches have united.

I wish the murder was cooler.

I’m not satisfied with how it took seven hours to get to the murder.

I’m not satisfied with the target of the murder or the way the murder is committed.

the murder was both climax and anticlimax…

this show doesn’t have enough twists

the point of the show is that it doesn’t have twists??

the chekhov gun was a red herring

not clear how that one mom affords this lifestyle

The show is about feminism.

actors good

the rich should definitely be killed

I’m not sure what level of irony this climactic karaoke match is on

this show’s not that good

this show’s fine I guess

a second season would be really bad

i don’t really give a shit

there weren’t very many lies in this show at all

perhaps that was the biggest of the lies

probably not going to read it but this is definitely a book-is-better situation

is this a satire?

number of scenes of wife beating necessary to get the point: 2 at most

number of scenes of wife beating I think I saw in this thing: 30, 40 or so

number of scenes of wife beating that were oddly sexy: all of them, up to and including the one that resulted in somebody getting their head fatally caved in

is this more or less of a satire than the young pope?

Man… the young pope was…………..sweet

thunder clack

Low rumble overhead from clouds colliding in the night. Inside the cloud a woman hovers, naked, soaked, and screaming. She does not want to fall.

More swollen clouds butt heads adjacent to her porous vessel. The wind is swirling. The membrane tears with a great rising roar of release. She is falling down.

Bolts of lightning tear through space between the earth and sky, blasting down into barren rocks. Flashes of electric light illuminate her silhouette. She does not seem to be in motion, but each new image sees her lower still, drawing ever closer to the earth. Her hair wraps around her face and reaches for the disappearing sky. In the distance it looks peaceful; in her ears is wailing wind.

The night is cold and dark without the moonlight. Between the white-hot bolts, a plaintive rest. It’s almost not unusual, tonight, scored by rain falling in sheets dispersed.

There is no impact in evidence. No echo. Eventually assumed it must have happened. The rain continues. It becomes a violent storm. There is no body in the morning. No new pond or crater. No real witness to the end. No story to tell. Nobody clamoring to hear one. So this almost never happened. No storm. No clouds. No fall. The ripples of the impact touching no one that you know, at least. And in the morning, after all of this, the teardrops on the blades of grass that sparkle in the day’s first light are indistinguishable from dew.

Photo credit: Uh, this iPad mini case.

I just wanted to get home

I was leaving the Walgreen’s after work and shuffling down the sidewalk toward my car. I just wanted to get home. I didn’t have a bag with me for what I’d bought: two jugs of tea, and a sort of meat snack, bacon jerky. I was overzealous, declining a bag. As I walked, I dropped a tea. Two liters of Arizona Iced Arnold Palmer’s Half and Half Iced Tea & Lemonade Zero Calorie, cracked open at the seal and sideways, spilling out onto the sidewalk, pooling at the edge of some kid’s shoes. His mom was standing with him, looking at something else. I saved what I could of the tea. I mumbled “sorry.” I lurched out into the parking lot, having saved more than half of the tea. It was just beginning to rain.