Top ten healthy products I would like Richard Armitage to endorse

•January 23, 2018 • 6 Comments

10. NoCoke

This is a new soft drink designed to aid addicts’ transition away from the ever-tempting Georgian nectar. It tastes just like Coke, but has no HFCS, no sugar, no artificial sweeteners, and none of those gut-biome-killing preservative thingies found in diet drinks. It’s just perfect in every way. I admit I haven’t ever located a can of it, but I am pretty sure that the Coca-Cola company is already secretly developing this drink, and I’m confident that the prospect of an endorsement from Richard Armitage would speed them up.

9. Coca-Cola

He just needs to do a little more really subtle product placement. Richard Armitage as John Proctor in Scene II of The Crucible, 2014.

Oops, just kidding. I actually don’t want to get off Coke. Most days anyway. But I drank it before I was an Armitage fan, and imagine I will drink it afterwards, too, if that day ever comes. Meanwhile I would like Richard Armitage to endorse Coca-Cola because I really despise Pepsi. And we know he drank it at least once. There was a witness!

8. Water

This wouldn’t be difficult, because he’s constantly photographed with water bottles — and they increase his kiss appeal. Screencap from footage of Richard Armitage at New York premiere of Into the Storm, August 2014.

I need him to endorse a kind of water that actually increases my energy, reduces silly food cravings, makes my skin glow, smooths out wrinkle lines, and adds $100 / hour to my bank account for every hour I spend fangirling. Apart from quenching my thirst, the kind I’m drinking at the moment has one main effect: the more I drink of it, the more often I have to pee. I’m sure that’s because I’m just drinking it from the tap. So if Armitage would endorse a brand that would live up to its press, I would so totally be there. Given all the bottles of water he has drunk, he should be an expert!

7. Fortnum & Mason Darjeeling FTGFOP

I’m really surprised the marketers were not all over this, long ago. Richard Armitage in episode 1 of North & South.

This is my favorite tea on the planet and I just got a stockup from my visiting friend. I love this tea because it feels and tastes elegant in my mouth, and because after a short, brief jolt, it calms me down. This is particularly useful for end-of-term grading, when it enhances my patient quotient by at least fifty percent. So I am eager for Richard Armitage to endorse it as a health product that reduces blood pressure. He could also find a scone recipe. Just sayin’. I’m guessing Fortnum and Mason didn’t jump on this because they have endorsement of like, the English royal family already, but you never know when you need a little help.

Of course: all things in moderation. Drinking 16 glasses a day has the same effect as drinking anti-freeze.

I do not want Richard Armitage to endorse anti-freeze. He’s natural, non-toxic anti-freeze, right?

6. Revolution Eugene Porter (beer)

This is kind of low-hanging fruit and I’m a bit surprised I’m the first one to suggest this. Richard Armitage as John Porter in Strike Back 1.6.

Has the same effect as the tea, and is a lot quicker. Staying calm in the face of frustrating student homeworks is a definite health plus. And my visiting friend also gave me two six-packs of it, so I know it works. Definitely a worthwhile endorsement possibility for the Armitage. Everyone knows that porter is “wholesome, nutritive and cooling.”

Not so sure about the cooling, though.

5. Dunkin’ Donuts chocolate cream-filled donuts

I admit this one is probably a long shot!

This isn’t actually healthy in the conventional sense, but I like it when famous people assert that my own preferences are healthy, even when they aren’t. This  item is also really useful in maintaining low blood pressure and mental health for teachers and professors. Plus: research shows that celebs who want to appeal to teens need to choose energy-dense, nutrient poor products, and this totally qualifies. Forget the Hobbit films — this endorsement will make him as popular as Justin Timberlake!

Finally, I’d love to see a photo of Armitage with a bit of frosting at the corner of his mouth. #sosexy #letmegetthatforyousweetie

4. Milk

You’re drinking your tea without milk? What an outrage! How can you even think of it? Richard Armitage as Mr. Thornton in episode 3 of North & South.

Goes well with the donuts. Also, goes over well with dairy producers, who were struggling to get their breakeven prices per hundredweight in Wisconsin this year. And here in Wisconsin, while no one’s telling us that dairy products aren’t healthy, it looks good to have Mr. Thornton standing up for us.

3. Science

Let’s start with something we can all agree on.

Not that it needs his endorsement — one quality of science being that it’s propositions are true independently of our belief in them — but you know. An awful lot of people seem to have rejected basic scientific truths lately. And at the very least: we should probably all get our childhood immunizations. Definitely healthy.

2. Carrots

An example of really skilled product placement.

After looking more closely at the picture above, I realized something that hadn’t occurred to me back in 2014: that the whole thing about choking on the piece of carrot in scene II was obviously a marketing ploy! This was definitely a product endorsement, as carrots are good for so many things, but in particular they enhance the amount of saliva in your mouth, which must be good for kissing.

Although consuming too many carrots can turn your skin orange, I am sure Richard Armitage wants to endorse anything that would improve kissing world-wide.

1. Ecstasy

OK, he’s not actually receiving a blow job here. But he sure looks like it. Richard Armitage as Lucas North in Spooks 7.7. Source:

Which brings me to the final thing that I would like Richard Armitage to endorse for health reasons. I feel like he’s moving in this direction with the choice to read Wanderlust, but I want simply to emphasize that the more Os, the more relaxation in consequence. Also, experts estimate a caloric expenditure of 60 to 100 calories per event (plus any calories one uses for other activities like foreplay, etc.).

So there we go! More orgasms for everyone! Get on it, Richard Armitage!


This was a spoof. A bit more seriously — a group of Armitage fans are writing a shared blog with healthy living tips and Richard Armitage photos. S/he who wishes to live more healthily with Armitage, let her click here!

Stressing that I DO NOT KNOW and I haven’t even done any research this time

•January 22, 2018 • 10 Comments

I would TOTALLY be up for a trip to London to see this.

Somehow I suspect the folks at the library, where I’m going today, would frown on this

•January 22, 2018 • 25 Comments

But I agree with Perry that as always the fan replies are interesting to observe.

Some more Richard Armitage ICYMI

•January 21, 2018 • 1 Comment

This stuff has been accumulating for a while; apologies.

And did we know that Daniel Brühl is co-producing “My Zoe”?

Late January triple feature

•January 18, 2018 • 6 Comments

I actually really can’t do this anymore, but this week on cheap day I was trying to avoid doing and thinking about a few things, so I went to the movies. I had six options, but after Liam Neeson’s and Matt Damon’s remarks about #metoo in the last few weeks, I decided to demote The Commuter from “probably not” and Downsizing from “maybe” to “no” for both. And I’m not sure about “Molly’s Game,” yet. So that left me with three options. Herewith my reactions.

11:30: Coco

Miguel, a little boy in an unspecified part of México that looks like the north or northwest, burns to be a musician, but his family are all shoemakers and stand in the way of his dreams. His great-great-grandmother was married to a musician who abandoned her and her daughter and shoes were her salvation. The film is the story of his struggle to convince both himself and his family that music is his path. It’s combined with some highly picturesque and nostalgic views of México on the annual holiday of Día de muertos, a time at which the spirits of the dead are said to return to their families. During the action of the film, Miguel is accidentally transported into the “Land of the Dead,” where he gets vital information to allow him to right some wrongs — if he can get back to his own life in time. Lots of skeleton graphics and humor, which I enjoyed, and the glorious Mexican traditional folk color palette that my eyes can never get enough of.

I probably would not have seen this, as an animated film has to be really special to hold my attention, but my U.S. Borderlands Studies friends were all talking about it. The reviews have generally been positive; Mexican Americans and others have been reading it as a slap in the face of the current presidential administration’s rhetoric about the rectitude of the U.S.’s most important neighbor nation. The film is cute and has some arresting visuals — an opening sequence in which Miguel’s ancestors’ backstory is told via a series of moving images displayed on Mexican papel picado stuck in my mind, as did his grandmother’s “spirit guide,” Pepita, a colorful dragon-like alebrije. Viewers who enjoy comparing cultural archetypes should get their fill of this playful turn on the Mexican underworld. I was also amused by the “border crossing” point between the “land of the dead” and the bridge to reality, insofar as border crossing with passports (and attempts to circumvent them) is a decisive moment of our current cultural landscape and relations with México. Still, I think we’re better off if we simply think of this as a sweet film that happens to take place in México and uses a lot of its cultural imaginary in beautiful ways, rather than an allegory about the Mexican worldview, or an index of the “cultural moment” of Mexicans in the U.S. As a story it’s just cute and enjoyable (and very colorful) and pleasantly free of U.S. cultural stereotypes about Mexicans, but as a paradigmatic representation of México or Mexicans in general it falls short. I don’t think of Mexican families as particularly tradition-bound in terms of their children’s life choices, although maybe that’s because most of the families I know are immigrants or descendants of immigrants, and immigration is in itself an inherently transformative rather than conservative act. And whether or not the film implies it, you can’t really argue that the cultural practices around Día de Muertos are a variant governing structure of the Mexican worldview. The problem, I think, is that we don’t see enough varying views of México to be able to see this as anything but representative, which it isn’t really.

Still — it’s a film worth seeing if you don’t lay too much weight on it. It also made me think it’s been way too long since I’ve been to México.

1:30: The Post

A dramatic recreation of events around the Washington Post‘s decision to publish excerpts from and stories based on the Pentagon Papers in June 1971. Streep plays Katharine Graham — “Kay”, famous Washington hostess and later publisher of the Post, her family’s paper; Tom Hanks plays Ben Bradlee, executive editor of the Post, who pushed for the publication of the leak after a federal court injunction to prevent stories about the papers in the New York Times. The film makes clear that the decision to publish the Pentagon Papers, which occurred just as the Post made its first IPO, was a turning point in Graham’s activity as publisher and also in the relationship of the U.S. press to Washington politics. The decision in New York Times Co. v. United States, which was provoked by the refusal of lower courts to grant injunctions from publication against the Post after such an injunction was granted against the Times, although not necessarily a legal milestone, nonetheless protected more expansive views of the U.S. press’ First Amendment rights against the principle of prior restraint that had governed much press coverage of the war up to that point. After this victory, Graham and Bradlee shepherded the paper’s development from a publication of interest primarily to DC readers through the Watergate era, when it first became the publication of national interest that it is today.

Lots of Oscar buzz here and I thought I might enjoy the film, even if I was less impressed by the prospect of watching Meryl Streep mimic yet another historical figure and not that interested in Tom Hanks, period. Sadly, I found this film almost entirely forgettable, when it wasn’t annoying. This was an interesting story that deserved a better script with a simultaneously tighter and more nuanced approach.

Problem number one: This film has a cast of dozens, and unless you already know who the characters are and why they matter, it seemed unlikely to me that you’d figure it out from the film. Keeping in mind that I was two during the summer this stuff happened, I have a glancing familiarity with the incident due to discussing it in college and then watching all 18 hours of Ken Burns’ excruciatingly nostalgic Vietnam War documentary with dad last year. But I’m about to turn 49. If you don’t remember or know who Robert McNamara was, why he was important at the time, and why the revelation of the papers was so devastating, this film sure won’t tell you. It’s left as a “the government lied to us!” moment — something that nowadays we’re much more used to; the film doesn’t really make clear the stunning impact of that revelation on the American public in 1971. Insofar as I was the youngest person in the theater for this film by probably fifteen years, I suppose arguably it doesn’t matter.

But in my opinion, to make a more compelling film, the characters needed to be pared down and the detail reduced to focus on the tension of the decision about whether to publish. I did learn one detail I didn’t know — William Rehnquist (shortly afterward to become an Associate Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court) was the U.S. attorney who pursued the injunction against the Post. But like a lot of things — scenes with Meg Greenfield; Ben Bradlee’s second wife, “Tony” Pinchot; Paul Ignatius; Kay Graham’s children and grandchildren; Abe Rosenthal and his wife — this moment takes up time without adding much to the piece’s verisimilitude or to the story. A script with a tighter focus on the actual problem would have been helpful in focusing the audience’s attention. It’s not totally clear what that problem is. I felt for most of the film like it couldn’t decide if its main point was female equality — the struggle for Kay to exert her authority as publisher over the voice of her board in a general atmosphere of changing roles for women — or press freedom. It addresses both only very weakly (more about this problem below), but I didn’t completely buy the whole “Kay was silent up to this point and the decision allowed her to express her will!” narrative the film was selling. She’d already been de facto publisher since her husband Phil’s suicide almost a decade earlier.

If the script often tells us too much, there are also things it hides from us, particularly in its attempt to portray Bradlee (and to some extent Graham) as apolitical, neutral defenders of the press. It mentions, for instance, that the Bradlees had been close personal friends with both Kennedys and that they had spent time with Jackie almost immediately after her return to DC in the wake of her husband’s assassination. It implies that Bradlee thought (or at least: was willing to think) that Kennedy was more honest than false with him. In a moving scene, Bradlee appears crushed to realize that his close personal friend Jack had been so actively lying about the war. What the film doesn’t tell us is that Bradlee knew Kennedy when he was still a senator and had covered him for his entire presidential campaign, or that Bradlee’s rise as a reporter was closely tied to his access to the candidate and later president and ability to get a quote. Perhaps, most crucially, the film fails to inform us that Bradlee’s divorced sister-in-law, Mary (Tony’s sister), had begun an affair with Kennedy in 1961 and was murdered in 1964, in circumstances that have never been fully explained. It doesn’t tell us that Philip Graham knew about this affair and disclosed it to other members of the press at a convention in 1963. Bradlee and Tony were actively involved in efforts to locate and destroy his sister-in-law’s diary after her murder, although it may have fallen into the hands of the CIA. So, although Bradlee denied contemporaneous knowledge of Kennedy’s affairs for his entire, he was still so closely enmeshed in this particular peccadillo that it seems unlikely that he hadn’t developed a more nuanced view of Kennedy by 1971 — or didn’t care.

While leads me to problem number 2, which probably won’t bother most viewers, but annoyed me: the way what I’ve learned is the “Spielberg perspective” gets applied to this problem. If you know a bit more about the people in the film and their pasts, what you realize is that it’s not really the good guys vs the bad guys (like it is in every Spielberg film), but rather than there were power and status struggles going on in Washington that preceded these incidents and made the actors particularly eager participants in this particular moment. The film tries to separate Bradlee and Graham from the veniality of Washington politics, but Nixon was a problem not just because he was from the wrong party (Graham was actually friends with Henry Kissinger), or because he was a crook and about to order the commission of a hugely devastating crime from the most powerful office on the planet, but because he contravened the existing social status structure. Nixon didn’t play along; he was socially awkward and not the type of person likely to find himself at the Graham table. He didn’t cooperate with the press, unlike Kennedy and Johnson, both of whom had played along with Bradlee and the post. There’s this sense in the film that “everybody hates Nixon” and it’s too easy to attribute that to what we know about him now, an impression the film heightens in that it only ever shows Nixon in black silhouette or lets us hear his voice on a recording or a phone call. But a lot of the general displeasure about him at the time and a lot of what spurred animus against him was that he was powerful and outside the networks of people like Graham and Bradlee. The film shows us Bradlee’s and Graham’s satisfaction about their victory over White House censorship, but there must have been an additional shot of glee over far more trivial matters.

I could make a similar point about Daniel Ellsberg, a highly controversial figure at the time and not someone that most or even many people who remember the period would necessarily be inclined to call a hero. (Think of how most people see someone like Edward Snowden or Chelsea Manning now.) He’s lauded because his revelation turned out to be “right,” not for the mere fact of whistle-blowing.  The issue here is that Spielberg has to draw every conflict in very strong moral terms and to imbue the good guys with an “underdog” quality that doesn’t work very well for a story like this one. Indeed, it’s often the very powerful who feel most like they are being put upon by challenges to their power — but that doesn’t make them weak. Toward the end of the film, there’s a “swelling music” scene where Bradlee pulls out all the U.S. regional papers and they are all running the Pentagon Papers story. From the perspective of the film, we’re supposed to see this as “all the papers are standing together to support Bradley and Graham, who were all alone,” but frankly: a story like this was good copy in 1971. There was no reason for papers not to report material that by that point was common knowledge. The film could just as easily have made the point that Bradlee was chuffed because for once, the Post‘s stories and the Times’ were driving the news cycle. In that sense, the market for news takes over definitions of both morality and power, and Bradlee’s “courageous” publications also followed market logic. Although the film doesn’t get into it, today’s Post, now owned by Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos, is one of the current presidential administration’s most vociferous critics and it’s re-attained a must-read status that it hasn’t had since the 1990s. This has happened not because the Post reporting was bad in the 90s; indeed, it won more Pulitzer Prizes under the editorship of Downie than in any other editorial tenure. Rather, it’s decision to publish various leaks from the White House and especially the Oval Office simply makes it more shocking.

Because of that similarity, and because of the film’s ignorance about the moral valences of power on the Washington political scene and in the newspaper market, it’s sort of hard to take the glancing references to scenes or lines that might remind us of our current situation very seriously. The not-so-veiled suggestion that Nixon is like Trump and the press plays the same role today that it did back then (or can, or should) is not very convincing and luckily the film doesn’t move very far in this direction. If the government had more credibility with voters in 1971 than now (which made the Pentagon Papers were so devastating), so did the press: in 1971, people not only believed the government, but also the press. In our own days, the general public has become largely impervious to facts, so that no matter what ends up being reported about the Mueller probe’s findings about Trump’s relationship with Russia before, during and after the 2016 election, it’s unlikely that either normal voters or the people in power will change their view of events. Their own leadership has inured them to any vulnerability to the sort of reporting that Bradlee published at time that even I think of as “back in the day” — because Vietnam is as far in the past for young people today as the Depression was for me when my grandparents told me about it during my childhood. And their own segmented press, highly organized into niches, reinforces their view of the world rather than challenging it. There was at least something at stake for Katharine Graham in that she could have gone to prison for contempt; what Bezos does is driven not by courage but by our clicks as we slaver over each successively more astounding revelation from the Trump White House. We do not crave the truth now, but only sensation; this film is largely ignorant of that issue.

Against these problems, the pedestrian performances are almost not worth noting. Streep is unmemorable and, one suspects, makes Graham looks far more ditsy than she could have been. When Hanks actually gets it together to sound more like Boston and less like Baltimore, he still sounds more like Southie than the Back Bay. The script confusingly suggests that Bradlee was somehow lower in social standing than Graham, but he was a Boston Brahmin and although he was technically her employee, he was in no way socially inferior to her. In my opinion, this status relationship is played incorrectly all the way through the film.

The best I can say is that the film made me think I should read these people’s memoirs to find out a bit more about what they were really like.

Oh — and you get a sense of how a newspaper used to be produced, with copy editors actually writing on copy, pneumatic tubes, a view of analog typesetting and — coolest of all — a working linotype machine. This may have novelty value for younger viewers who don’t really understand what a logistical deadline is. I wonder where they found it; I remember taking a field trip in Scouts in the late 1970s where the person from the local paper gestured at a linotype and said, “it’s been superseded, we just need to get rid of it.” It can’t be that long after this that most U.S. papers were phototypesetting. In any case: Spielberg’s shots of it — and the affiliated nostalgia for large-scale industrial processes that still involved humans — are quite epic.

4:10: I, Tonya

The film recounts the events of Tonya Harding‘s rise to prominence in U.S. women’s figure skating in the 1980s and 90s and her whimpering flameout after her involvement in plotting a physical attack on her most challenging competitor, Nancy Kerrigan, before the 1994 Winter Olympics, a competition ultimately won by neither of the two but by Ukrainian competitor Oksana Baiul.

I hadn’t planned to see this film. The whole thing seemed like a trashy, ridiculous reminder of the 1990s, which I hadn’t forgotten in the first place as I’d been reviewing my notes on German history for my doctoral exams while watching the Olympic skating competition and I remember seeing the performances the night that Baiul won the gold. That was back when I was still watching David Letterman avidly and he joked Jeff Gillooly’s name into the history books. I saw the trailer, though, which looked neat, and then I’d been hearing good things about Allison Janney’s performance as Lavona Harding (Tonya’s mother), and then dad wanted to watch a documentary program about the incident on television a few nights earlier and I succumbed as I tend to be a sucker for “where are they now” stories.

I’m glad I did. This film has a great script, with characters occasionally breaking the fourth wall to speak directly to the viewer (it’s kitschy, but not overdone), and something I really loved — not just the contrast of different perspectives on the events shown, but characters concretely disagreeing with each other (after seeing a scene, saying, “that is not true”) or even saying, before we are about to see a scene: “what you’re about to see is definitely not true.” The film notes and criticizes cultural elements that played into the story, like figure skating’s preference for a certain persona of skater that Tonya Harding could never consistently inhabit, or the role of everyday violence in her and her mother’s lives, without getting heavy-handed. Key in this regard is a Hard Copy reporter (Bobby Cannavale) who points out that the then new twenty-four news channels needed material, and Tonya herself, who points out that she only tried to give audiences what they wanted, and they punished her for it in the way she had been abused by her mother and her boyfriend / husband. In general I found convincing the way that the script treated Tonya herself — who did survive horrible things but who was equally willing to insist that certain things were not her fault, even when they became patterns. (It’s not in the film, but a comparison of Kerrigan to Harding is instructive in this regard; Kerrigan also came from a rather poor family but she managed to play the role she needed to play, whereas Harding simply could not.)

Performances: Janney is excellent, but I think I was more impressed by Juliette Nicholson as Diane Rawlinson (Tonya’s coach). I thought Margot Robbie as Harding was okay, but nothing more than that. I think in her attempt to inhabit the very hard qualities of Tonya’s personality — her self-centeredness, her combative physicality, her automatic resort to opposition or refusal at every opportunity, her willingness to blame others for her own mistakes — she misses the thing that made Tonya appealing and kept us hoping for her. Tonya wasn’t always a character from Jerry Springer, which is where Robbie seems to be most of the time. Twas something charmingly coltish and vulnerable about Harding as well. She was the most athletic, powerful, gutsy skater in a field of women who conformed to the “America’s sweetheart” ideal and yet, when she did the thing she went down in skating history for (successfully landing the triple axel), she beamed in celebrating. She was tough, but she often had a bit of a “Princess Di” shy look. She was muscular, but she could smile gently and she was aggressive but she also often looked like she was just about to giggle. The real Tonya Harding was a mass of contradictions; Robbie pretty clearly decides for one of her personae and misses a lot about her cultural fascination at the time.

Plus points for interiors and costumes. I remember wearing a lot of those outfits and hairstyles myself: the cowl-neck sweater, the turtle neck with a pendant necklace over the top, the hair pulled tight against the skull.

And a plea for 2016: “I Am Not Your Negro”

This film was nominated for last year’s Oscars and didn’t win, and I’m fairly sure it never made it into the theater around here. It was aired on PBS on the evening of Martin Luther King Day, and I was able to see it after my drive back from seeing my friend. The trailer had appealed to me previously so I was glad to have the opportunity to see it. It’s based on an incomplete manuscript by James Baldwin, a series of recollections from his acquaintances with the assassinated Black political leaders Medgar Evers, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm X, that is also a discussion of the history of the “Negro” in America (a word that’s fallen into desuetude). The film is carried by Samuel L. Jackson’s narration of Baldwin’s manuscript over different pictures and documentary film of some of the events and moments that Baldwin discusses, as well as historical film of Baldwin at a debating society and on the Dick Cavett show. (That cut is particularly annihilating, as Baldwin’s up against an Ivy League professor who tries to tell him that Black people have not suffered and are not suffering. Try watching that clip and then figure out what the parallel experience is now, forty years later. It hit me like a bomb, the way everything about our culture justifies and rationalizes oppression.)

The film is primarily observational, and devastating both in its portrayal of Baldwin’s experiences of being Black in the USA and his recollection of the civil rights movement and the devastating murders of these men. It’s a point-blank narration of how a Black person experienced the 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s with the force of an indictment. What does it mean to say that the history of the USA is the history of the Black man in the USA, and how does that change our picture of it? The viewer catches the grief and frustration of Dr. King’s growing awareness that the legacy of his movement was a group of young people who did not embrace non-violence, and King’s own recognition that perhaps they were right. He talks about his return to the US after time away in France, his thinking about these men’s children and their futures, his conflictedness in not wanting to think whites were inherently evil or uneducable.

If I have one quibble: the topic of Baldwin’s sexuality, which is central to his writing, is mostly skirted. On the other hand, most poignant for me: his remarks about his recognition that he could not be an activist, but as a writer, he could bear witness.

Highly recommended, especially for the historic film of Baldwin speaking.

So this is the current hypothesis?

•January 18, 2018 • 7 Comments

At the National Theater?

Richard Armitage in Paris, an ICYMI post

•January 18, 2018 • 6 Comments

It’s definitely been an interesting four days IRL. This is the longest I’ve spent away from Twitter in probably two years. Reflections coming. As I assume it’s all been tweeted, FB’d or instagrammed, I’m putting this stuff here mostly for the historical record.

[[[I think I’ll just say what’s been up. [a] Last minute contract — last Friday — to teach two classes about material I haven’t thought about or used very much lately required near-total concentration on studies for a change, as classes start next Monday. [b] Sudden visit from friend who lives in England on a rare trip to the US knocked out this last Sunday and Monday as I traveled to see her. [c] Tuesday was another movie day, fleeing [d] Flower has been in and out of the hospital since shortly before Christmas, and I’ve been drawn into caretaking. No need for sympathy on any of this, I’ve just been … yeah.]]]

#RichardArmitage in Paris #BerlinStation #13emerue

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Interview de Richard Armitage 👍👍👍 Bientôt sur @ocs_story @ocstv

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