I've come to the sad conclusion that if the white characters in the Broadway musical Hamilton
(= every character who speaks, that is) were played by white actors,
Hamilton would please Donald Trump.
Hamilton is the story of a "self-starter, who worked harder, was smarter...", which is how Trump sees himself--and he too is the son of a Scottish immigrant.
(Trump's mother, Mary MacLeod (1912–2000), immigrated to the United States from Scotland in 1930.)
How to remedy this?
Easy.
1. Include a a running commentary from a Black character. There’s no existing candidate, so write the part ––say, a Hamilton family "servant" [code word for slave].
2. Cast a white actor as that non-white character.
There.
Solved it, to my satisfaction.
___________________
II. Fluff 'n' Stuff
I have no deep thoughts on Downton Abbey.
I watched one episode and thought it was "empty gorgeousness", as Hilary Mantel called such historical dramas. That gives a lot of pleasure, it just isn't my thing.
But it did promise to be gorgeous--like these Royal Doulton plates.
(I photographed them, below, as I was leaving work yesterday, and the afternoon sun obscures their details.)
They are perfect for the end-cap where I display pretty things.
They didn't sell at $10 each, and I doubt they'll sell at $5 either, but I like it when displays stick around.
I bet I'll eventually have to mark them down again, but if I priced them $1.99 now...
Poof! There'd go my display.
The last DA movie is in theaters now, so I suggested,
"For your Downtown Abbey dinner party?"
We get gorgeous antique stemware ^ too.
Etched crystal, cut glass, etc. Bowls, plates, and vases too. It barely moves, even priced 99 cents a piece.
Tea cups don't sell either.
Nobody drinks out of 6 oz. cups. I did for a minute, then went back to mugs.
I recently brought home a mug from the state where I grew up (below).
And I'm starting a book set in the year I was born (in a different state)--the year the Berlin Wall went up. (I'm still reading the history of sugar book too.)
I haven't had to bring in my Boston fern yet. It's chilly at night, but days have been unseasonably warm here--hot even, in the high 80ºs in the late afternoons this week.
Hard to believe it's October tomorrow.
III. Recharging. Without a Nice Cup of Tea.
I was surprised how drained I felt after hanging the God's eyes three days ago.
I said that to a friend, who commented,
"Well, you expended a great deal of chi!
Time to recharge your battery."
Yes, that's it.
For a month, I wove a lot of life energy into those eyes.
I thought I'd roll right on with making them, but oof--I'm out of steam.
I'm taking a break.
Yesterday after I left work, I was admiring them on the fence. Only a few have been taken.
A man, woman, and their two little kids came walking by.
The kids ran ahead and stopped and were handling the eyes.
"Do you know what these are?" the man asked.
I explained ("like guardian angels")
--and I added that they could take one, if they wanted. "I know the person who made them."
"We can?!" he said. "You know the person?"
He seemed impressed, and I left them looking closely at the eyes.
I suppose I should put up a sign, Take One.
But, like the plates, I don't mind if they linger.
Also, I kinda don't even have the energy to make a sign.
I'm done.
For now.
But probably not for long.
I have lots of beautiful yarn--a friend just sent me more!--and I have one hour’s listening left of Smoke and Ash, the audio book about tea and opium in China.
The thing that most amazes me is that the plant material that drove all of this-- European colonial drug smuggling, enslaved workers growing sugar on plantation --is now an everyday item you can buy for a couple bucks at any grocery store:
TEA.
Tea!
I have a box in my cupboard from a year ago.
A year, because that's when I quit eating added sugar,
last year around Halloween.
Like the Brits, I like sugar in my tea, with milk. A lot of sugar.
One lump or two?
Actually, six.
Funny, because I dislike sugar in coffee. (Luckily.) But they're different brews. I would probably engage in illegal trade to get coffee.
Hamilton would please Donald Trump.
Hamilton is the story of a "self-starter, who worked harder, was smarter...", which is how Trump sees himself--and he too is the son of a Scottish immigrant.
(Trump's mother, Mary MacLeod (1912–2000), immigrated to the United States from Scotland in 1930.)
How to remedy this?
Easy.
1. Include a a running commentary from a Black character. There’s no existing candidate, so write the part ––say, a Hamilton family "servant" [code word for slave].
2. Cast a white actor as that non-white character.
There.
Solved it, to my satisfaction.
___________________
II. Fluff 'n' Stuff
I have no deep thoughts on Downton Abbey.
I watched one episode and thought it was "empty gorgeousness", as Hilary Mantel called such historical dramas. That gives a lot of pleasure, it just isn't my thing.
But it did promise to be gorgeous--like these Royal Doulton plates.
(I photographed them, below, as I was leaving work yesterday, and the afternoon sun obscures their details.)
They are perfect for the end-cap where I display pretty things.
They didn't sell at $10 each, and I doubt they'll sell at $5 either, but I like it when displays stick around.
I bet I'll eventually have to mark them down again, but if I priced them $1.99 now...
Poof! There'd go my display.
The last DA movie is in theaters now, so I suggested,
"For your Downtown Abbey dinner party?"
We get gorgeous antique stemware ^ too.
Etched crystal, cut glass, etc. Bowls, plates, and vases too. It barely moves, even priced 99 cents a piece.
Tea cups don't sell either.
Nobody drinks out of 6 oz. cups. I did for a minute, then went back to mugs.
I recently brought home a mug from the state where I grew up (below).
And I'm starting a book set in the year I was born (in a different state)--the year the Berlin Wall went up. (I'm still reading the history of sugar book too.)
I haven't had to bring in my Boston fern yet. It's chilly at night, but days have been unseasonably warm here--hot even, in the high 80ºs in the late afternoons this week.
Hard to believe it's October tomorrow.
III. Recharging. Without a Nice Cup of Tea.
I was surprised how drained I felt after hanging the God's eyes three days ago.
I said that to a friend, who commented,
"Well, you expended a great deal of chi!
Time to recharge your battery."
Yes, that's it.
For a month, I wove a lot of life energy into those eyes.
I thought I'd roll right on with making them, but oof--I'm out of steam.
I'm taking a break.
Yesterday after I left work, I was admiring them on the fence. Only a few have been taken.
A man, woman, and their two little kids came walking by.
The kids ran ahead and stopped and were handling the eyes.
"Do you know what these are?" the man asked.
I explained ("like guardian angels")
--and I added that they could take one, if they wanted. "I know the person who made them."
"We can?!" he said. "You know the person?"
He seemed impressed, and I left them looking closely at the eyes.
I suppose I should put up a sign, Take One.
But, like the plates, I don't mind if they linger.
Also, I kinda don't even have the energy to make a sign.
I'm done.
For now.
But probably not for long.
I have lots of beautiful yarn--a friend just sent me more!--and I have one hour’s listening left of Smoke and Ash, the audio book about tea and opium in China.
The thing that most amazes me is that the plant material that drove all of this-- European colonial drug smuggling, enslaved workers growing sugar on plantation --is now an everyday item you can buy for a couple bucks at any grocery store:
TEA.
Tea!
I have a box in my cupboard from a year ago.
A year, because that's when I quit eating added sugar,
last year around Halloween.
Like the Brits, I like sugar in my tea, with milk. A lot of sugar.
One lump or two?
Actually, six.
Funny, because I dislike sugar in coffee. (Luckily.) But they're different brews. I would probably engage in illegal trade to get coffee.
Tea and opium two of my most favorite things. Good thing opium is not available in this land or you would find me on a floor cushion in dreamland, dying happily. You seem to do things like i do things. all in and then not.- burned out- rest- and then go full force again on some other tangent. Well done on the eye creations and the goodness brought by them.
ReplyDeleteAgree about Downton Abbey- and yes, it is total empty fluff , a place to rest without
bombardment. Escape to fluff and opium, (if only).
China no matter how pretty seems to go wanting here as well. Glass is not practcle, taking it out for holidays , who has time or space for that?
I am watching the series "The Boys" on amazon prime, recommended by Erik. Super heros , funny and dark and ridiculous. You might like it. Erik quit watching in about season four because like all things. became formulaic , less innovative. Anyway the first two seasons are hilarious in an "ewwww" way.
Lol, yes that’s me too— my mother said I would play hard and then collapse. Still the same child in this old body. 😆❤️
DeleteI’ll see if The Boys is available on DVD yet. (No internet at home). Thanks!
if only I lived closer -- I would snatch up those crystal wine glasses. they are hard to find here. can totally understand the all in and then all out: when I concentrate on doing something for a period of time, I, too, collapse and only want to watch old episodes of "law and order!"
ReplyDeleteberlin 1961 sounds like a book I need to find. my parents had an old photographic book about the Berlin Wall and the escapes which always fascinated me. in 1985 while in Europe I wanted to take the train to Berlin but my traveling partner wasn't up for it. and 4 years later it fell. I saw a piece of it in Rosslyn, va at the newseum before it was moved. I worked with someone who was spirited into West Berlin along with her brother. her mother had been warned that the police were looking for her and she wanted her children out of east Berlin. some of her family remained in east Berlin and she told me later how they did not like the reunification.
I found it rather sad that people no longer really appreciate such wonderful glass and china. yeah, I'm a luddite.
k
ps my library has both of the books so another request went in. I'm reading a memoir of Silicon Valley right now and the whole thing just seems so vacuous.
Deletek