#its really funny. she does not know about the dog jokes nor do i intend for her to know

[lycanthian]

today i was looking at houses with my parents bc were looking at moving into a new one. and a prevailing idea rn is building me a separated bedroom out of a shed in the backyard in whatever house we choose so i can experience Living Alone in something apartment adjacent before i rlly truly move out down the line. and also because im tired of having no privacy. unintended side effect was my mom joking that when she gets mad at me that she can go like "LOGAN GO TO YOUR SHED" and i exploded for a moment. local wolfman cannot escape the dog jokes even from his own parents apparently

[daggryet]

okay since i was very overwhelmed last night because of eriksen and what happened, i didn’t really have the clarity to think clearly, so i’m putting my own thoughts under the cut, just to get them out

What's been grating on me since I watched the stream and the Twitter drama erupted, is how people were talking about how Tommy "clearly wanted to avoid minority issues, accountability, education" when that's, especially after rewatching, the complete opposite of what he's saying? He's saying he fucks up and that he's sorry, he says multiple times throughout the stream that now he said the wrong thing again and that he's sorry, that he doesn't know how to correctly say things (he's not an activist, how would he have learned the proper way to phrase these things - and he especially doesn't know when he's tired and stressed), and that he wants to learn, he wants the community to be a better and open space for everyone - and AGAIN, he says he wants to be better. Wilbur also very clearly intends to help him realise the nuances of the situation (yes, the minorities finding the joke hurtful are valid; yes, tommy feeling stressed about being tweeted at negatively by thousands to the point of you trending in several countries is valid), and Tommy clearly wants to learn. And that's, to me as a Jew, what's so important about most younger CCs today: that they want to learn. And in this situation: Tommy wants to learn, he doesn't want to fuck up, he doesn't want to be ignorant, he wants to know what to say - he doesn't want to be an activist, but he wants to learn more, so he doesn't offend people accidentally. That attitude should be encouraged, not shunned. That's not how you motivate people to care about issues.

Personally, I don't like Schlatt. I don't like his persona he portrays in videos, and to my knowledge he has complete control over that persona - so I don't like him. However, I also realise that Tommy, Wilbur, Tubbo, and everyone else who's friends with him from the SMP (especially, since it's their fanbase this video is talking about) know the Schlatt that isn't for cameras but the "real" him. I realise the jokes that Tommy has made about Twitter can come off as mocking people disliking Schlatt for actually valid reasons, and I personally have never found them funny and just sighed whenever he’d make them, but I do think it's a case of intent not being equal to the impact. Tommy's intentions were probably to poke fun at those people he sees in his QRT's all the time, telling him to get away from his friends who also do this whenever anyone interacts with Schlatt. However, the impact of the tweet was that minorities felt hurt, and they did deserve an apology which is what he tried to do last night, though he was too tired and stressed to keep it coherent. Because the most of the discussion about his stream happened on Twitter, it was bound to get derailed. Where a lot of poc and other minorities affected by schlatt tweeted actually well worded and educational tweets where they just wanted an apology for his jokes and for him to understand why they were hurtful, they were buried amongst all the thousands of tweets of absolute dog shit and straight up hate. they (twitter) ended up trending "Tommy neg" in the US on the day he did the joke - and then yesterday, in both the US and the UK. That's fucking stressful to a degree I can't even imagine, seeing your name trend internationally; that's not going to teach anyone anything. And that's honestly something the Twitter community needs to be better at realising; like Bad said in his stream, one tweet is a pebble but all the thousands of tweets being posted equal to thousands throwing rocks at a person at once, and that’s not going to educate anyone. When CCs criticise Twitter they're not going after the people trying to educate them, especially not Tommy who repeatedly says - he wants to be better and make his fanspace safer, they're criticising the toxic people and unfortunately there's a Lot of toxic people on Twitter. And even though on Twitter there are Good people, when something goes wrong and tags start trending - they're unfortunately not the only ones speaking.

I'm glad he's taking time off of Twitter because while Twitter is a place where a lot of its userbase wants to bring attention to social issues and important events, it's also a place where the algorithm promotes sensationality and "breaking news" over information, where character limit limits room for discussion and grey areas, and also where a lot of people take one or two quotes and 30 seconds clips out of context and then run with it. Twitter can bring awareness and introduce you to social issues, but you need to do research yourself, look for credible sources, find ressources to properly understand stuff, listen to educated people and activists who actually know what they're talking about. That's how you learn, privately, in a calm setting, where the point is to learn not to get attacked. I'm sure he's gonna have a lot of good conversations with Wilbur, his mum as he's said previously she's very involved with social issues, and hopefully he'll reach out to people with actual knowledge about these social issues and look up ressources. He doesn’t want to nor does he need to become the next activist, but being introduced to ways to look information up and understand why what you said was wrong - that’s going to be very helpful to him, to anyone really. Researching the world you live in, the issues going on right now, it’s always important and it’s always gonna be time well spent.

And lastly, I hope he'll also be able to get better with his anxiety now that he isn’t going on Twitter because while there Are good people, there’s also a lot of shit that he shouldn’t see about himself. I hope this break does him well

[yourmandevine]

Some stuff that made me happy in 2020, in no particular order

God send you no greater loss. It’s something my grandmother said a lot — a bit of highly Irish Catholic wisdom intended to remind you, warmly but sharply, that whatever you’re currently suffering through isn’t all that bad compared to what lots of other people are dealing with. That it probably isn’t too much to complain about, in the grand scheme of things. That you should, instead, be grateful for what you’ve got, big and small and everything in between.

God sent a great many people a great many unfathomable losses this year, and as hard as it felt at times, our family wasn’t among them; we’re lucky, in the big picture. In the past, people have recommended I try writing those reasons down, to give myself a list of stuff to be thankful for, for the times it’s tough to summon up the gratitude. I figured the end of the year was as good a time as any to make that list, to highlight the stuff that helped me get through this year — the reasons big, small, and in between.

So: here goes.

Peanut butter and jelly

I haven’t counted how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I’ve eaten since March 11, which is good, because that would be an absurd thing to do, and a sure sign that I have succumbed to a very specific kind of madness. It’s also good, though, because I would undoubtedly be ashamed by the number; the figure would be titanic, like the unsinkable ship of same name, or the iceberg that sunk it.

Or, at least, I would be ashamed under normal circumstances. This fuckin’ year required whatever flotation device you could find, and you know what I found in the fridge and cupboard? A couple of slices of bread, some strawberry jam, and some goddamn Skippy.

Need a weird mid-morning “brunch” after not having breakfast because you went right from waking up to remote school with the 6-year-old? Crank up a PB&J with that third cup of coffee. Need to pack something in the diaper bag to feed everyone while you’re out at the playground for the afternoon? Stack ‘em up, son. Need a late snack after working the overnight shift filing weird bubble playoff columns? Three letters, one ampersand, one love.

I need to eat better in 2021. But I kind of needed to eat sort of like shit to get through 2020, and time and again, when your man needed it most, PB&J was there.

Sunday night Zoom sessions with college friends

I know that most of us started something like this back in March; I’m not sure how many have stuck with it. I hope the answer is “a lot,” because honestly, knowing that I’m going to end the week by seeing a few friends — some here in Brooklyn but mostly beyond our reach for safety’s sake, some who’ve moved away — has felt like a stabilizing agent on more than a few occasions. It’s important, and no small blessing, to have people in your life who really know you, weird messy ugly bits and all, and in front of whom you can let everything go.

That gallery view’s provided a place to vent, to seethe, to laugh, to cry, and to try to find some semblance of center before heading back into another week. I’m grateful for it, and for the people in those little boxes. Except for the time they reminded me that, when I was 18, I was pretty sure I was a Pacey, and they were all extremely confident I was a Dawson. They were right, but still: a bitter pill to swallow, then and now.

Olivia calling herself “Dr. Bloody”

She took out her little toy doctor kit and just turned into a cackling villain.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dan Devine (@yourmandevine)

Deeply disconcerting, yes, but also adorable.

All Fantasy Everything

What got me in the door was the conceit: three very funny stand-up comedians (Ian Karmel, David Gborie, Sean Jordan), often with a very funny guest but sometimes without, pick some topic or another and engage in a fantasy draft of their favorite aspects or representations of that topic. (It is, crucially, a serpentine draft. Now what is that? That’s a great question.) Some favorite examples: Mikes; Words That You Think Make You Sound Smart, vols. 1 and 2; Things You Yell After You Dunk on Someone; Fictional Athletes; Crimes We’d Like to Commit. Yeah. It’s that kind of podcast.

What kept me around was the friendship. Listen to an episode and it becomes really clear really quickly just how much the three hosts love each other, how much fun they have being around each other and making one another laugh. The warmth radiates, just pours out of the speakers; in a year where I sorely needed some good vibes, I appreciated my regular check-ins with the Good Vibes Gang to just ... unclench for an hour and a half or so. 

Drinking beer

OK, I’ll admit: This doesn’t sound great for me. It’s true, though. I really like beer. (We brewed one in our kitchen, which I realize is something of a “bearded guy in Brooklyn” cliche, but here we are. It was exciting to complete a project, and it tasted OK-ish.) At some points this year, it didn’t feel like there wasn’t much to look forward to, and sometimes drinking some High Lifes or Narragansett tall boys — with my wife in our living room, with friends on the computer, whatever — helped take the edge off a shitty day/week/month/year. I look forward to being able to do that outside with people again.

The Good Place

I am sure some very smart cultural critics and political thinkers and social revolutionaries have forwarded compelling arguments for why this show is Bad, Actually, because that seems to be more or less true about most things, whether because said thing is Actually Bad or because the economics of the attention economy on the internet functionally necessitate the composition and publication of pretty much every position on pretty much every issue, and especially ones that present a counterargument for why you shouldn’t like the thing you like, and might be kind of a piece of shit for liking it. But I liked this half-hour comedy about the way the universe might be put together, why we should try to take better care of each other, and how doing so might be a pretty great way to take better care of ourselves.

Andrew let me write about it a little bit for a big project we did before the series finale aired, which was really nice of him. I found myself thinking about this part a lot this year:

I also thought a lot about Peeps Chili, but that happens every year.

Taking pictures of my dog

Check out this flumpy goddamn champion:

“Lugar is a good boy” is the main takeaway here. They don’t all have to be complicated.

Schitt’s Creek

I know we’re not alone in this, but we inhaled this show this year. A half-hour comedy about people being laid low, learning how to deal with who they actually are, and finding some grace and community and opportunities for growth kind of hit the spot, I guess.

One of the most wholesale enjoyable ensemble comedy casts I can remember; Catherine O’Hara was already in Cooperstown, but what she made with Moira Rose only polishes her plaque. I’ll never be able to describe with any specificity the thing Chris Elliott does, but I know it has made me laugh since I was a child too young to understand the Letterman bits or see Cabin Boy in the theater, and it’s probably going to make me laugh until I am dead.

I love that people who, for years, never got to see themselves or people like them on screen got to see David Rose on screen and maybe recognize themselves a little bit. The idea that seeing the David/Patrick relationship might make them maybe feel a little more at home, a little safer and more whole, makes me happy. Sad, about the before, but happy, about the now and the what comes next.

Past that, I just love how what was ostensibly a family-and-friends production for a Canadian channel just got absolutely everything right—the tone, the look, the sound, the theme song, the cast, the jokes, my goodness, the jokes—and before long, the rest of the world just got it. Like catching a fastball square on the barrel. Something the show clearly knew a little bit about.

Finding new outdoor places it was safe to go

Necessity is the mother of invention, and the need to give the kids a place to be that wasn’t unnecessarily dangerous but also wasn’t inside our two-bedroom apartment led us to do more exploring than we had before. Shirley Chisholm State Park is great. Canarsie Pier was a fun place to spend a Sunday morning; so’s Canarsie Playground. If we got there early enough or made our peace with some rain, the beaches at Jacob Riis Park and Fort Tilden were pretty rad this summer. I lived in Staten Island from ages 8 through 18, and during breaks throughout college, and don’t think I ever hiked in High Rock Park — that’s dumb, because it was nice!

Even if all those little excursions did was kill a little time and reduce the overall stress level of the four humans stuck in our four walls, that’s not nothing. Some days this year, it was everything.

Cobra Kai

I know I’m late here; I didn’t rush to seek it out because I don’t consider myself a huge fan of The Karate Kid, or at least not a big enough fan to sign up for YouTube’s premium service. I checked it out when it came to Netflix, though, and I honestly can’t believe how much I enjoyed this show. Give me “dumb, but with heart” every day of the week.

I believe in Miguel Diaz; I believe in Johnny Lawrence; I believe I will be firing up Season 3 next month, and perhaps drinking some Coors Banquets in its honor. (I cannot, however, believe how the “get him a body bag” thing came back around, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Closing unread tabs

I’m a serial hoarder of links, and I am bad at finishing all of them. I’ve tried to get into Pocket and Instapaper, but I’ve never been able to turn that sort of workflow — open link, save to third-party service, go back to third-party service later to read, then delete from there — into something that felt instinctual, natural, or habitual. So: lots of tabs. Like, lots of tabs.

This was a dicier proposition than usual in 2020, because cutting my work week in half to be able to more effectively coparent two kids who didn’t have school or day care for most of the year meant less time to read things.

I tried to do my best to keep up with the important stuff for work, and to read at least some stuff about how other parents were dealing with their anxiety/anger/depression/frustration at having to be on 24/7 and work, and to stay abreast of (at least some of) what was happening in the world. Sometimes, though, I would wake up and realize I’d been holding onto blog posts about Really Interesting Rotation Decisions on the 11th-Seeded Team in the East or whatever for literally nine months, and I would go against my nature and just hit the eject button on a 25-deep window, and something amazing would happen: I wouldn’t get fired for being shitty at my job. I would move on with my day, and I would feel about 10 pounds lighter.

I still keep too much stuff open. (As we speak, I’ve got three different Chrome windows open on two different laptops. I choose not to count the total tabs.) But I do so knowing that, if it gets too heavy, I can experience the momentary joy of surrendering to the inevitability that I can’t catch everything. In that moment, I feel OK with my decay.

Reading writers I wasn’t familiar with before

Two in particular stand out in my mind: Nekias Duncan, now of BasketballNews.com, who does excellent film breakdowns and statistical analysis, and Katie Heindl, who writes basketball stuff of all types all over the place, and strings sentences together in a way that scratches an itch inside my brain. I’m grateful I got more chances to read them this year, I look forward to bigger and better things for both of them, and I’m hopeful that, if things calm down and our schedules go back to something approximating normalcy, I’ll have more bandwidth to hunt out more new voices in the year ahead.

The time I ambushed my wife as she was trying to break down and put away the girls’ space tent

Pretty good.

Siobhan learning to ride a bicycle (with training wheels, but still)

The moment passed pretty quickly; Not Exactly A Mechanic over here can’t get the training wheels to reliably work right without either loosening them too much or tightening them so much that she can’t pedal it. In that first moment, though, and for as long as it lasted, it was really great to see her get excited about doing something new, big kid shit, for the first time.

She was proud. I was proud of her. And then we went to a playground for a few hours. Pretty good day.

Tyler Tynes roasting me

Tyler did some incredible work this year — The Cam Chronicles is getting deserved praise as one of 2020′s best podcasts, and his reporting on the Movement for Black Lives was exemplary. It’s hard to top this, though:

You know what the messed up part is? I was excited to tell him what I was doing, just because I knew the reaction would be so violent. Like a body rejecting a transplant. So lucky to have such a dear, dear friend.

PUP

I’m late on everything, so I didn’t start listening to PUP until the spring of 2019, but I haven’t really stopped since. This year has been too sedentary too often; this band is too kinetic to allow me to stay there.

“Bloody Mary Kate and Ashley Kate” is never more than about 20 minutes away from returning to the front of my mind. I would fucking love for it to be safe enough to watch these guys live at some point, and I am absolutely going to take Steve up on his offer.

Someone sending me a shirt based on a joke I tweeted

First:

Then:

Then:

I’m not sure you should be rewarding my behavior, SnoCoPrintShop, but I appreciate it all the same.

Which reminds me:

Family dinner/family movie night

My wife works in Manhattan and commutes back on the train, and we've tried to prioritize getting the girls to bed early since they were little, so that doesn’t leave much of a window between when she gets home and they go in the tub for us all to connect; before everything shut down, we almost never really ate together. We’re still not great about it, but for a while now we’ve carved out Saturday as family dinner night, where we sit down to eat and talk about our “up” from the day — something that happened that made us feel good or happy, or something we’re looking forward to. (We used to talk about our “down,” too, but that kind of seemed like overkill. Why try to focus on more bad shit right now, you know?)

Then we settle in for a movie, with who gets to pick rotating each week. It’s mostly been Pixar, which has been great but also has its drawbacks; after she caught me crying during one of them (maybe the Bing-Bong scene in Inside Out? or Miguel singing to Grandma Coco?), Siobhan straight up told me, “You need to get yourself together, man.” We just watched My Neighbor Totoro, too, which they loved, so we’re probably going to try some more Miyazaki soon. It’s a really simple thing, but it’s one we rarely made time for before, and it’s been really nice to manufacture something positive that we can share and look forward to together.

Sometimes looking like a shiftless drifter

No shade to anyone who felt strongly about getting a lineup or whatever, but I haven’t really felt like going to the barbershop was worth the risk, and I continue to refuse to believe that my wife can actually pull off the fade she’s long wanted to give me. (It is also possible that she just means she’s intending to run my fade, and that I will before long wind up cold-cocked and slumped by my bride of nine years.) So I’ve just kind of been growing out my hair like it was when I was single, and sometimes been letting my beard get kind of out of control too, and, well, I sort of like looking a little bit like a Wildling, it turns out.

I have since trimmed things up a little. It didn’t go over well with my youngest. Oh, well. I’ll try to do better next time.

My wife and daughter singing the Pixies

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dan Devine (@yourmandevine)

We don’t know all the words to too many lullabies, so we sing the ones we do know the words to. This will probably come back to bite us in the years ahead. For now, though: Pretty good.

Doughboys’ Tournament of Chompions: Munch Madness: Mac Attack

I can’t believe how invested I became in Nick Wiger and Mike Mitchell’s quest to determine the best menu item at McDonald’s in a 64-seed tournament that spawned hours and hours of delightfully funny audio featuring all-time home-run guests like Jon Gabrus and Nicole Byer, who gleefully feed into the often warm, sometimes antagonistic, always entertaining chemistry between the two hosts. I have also never found myself wanting to go to McDonald’s more in my entire life. I have hit the drive-thru a couple of times since, and the boys are right: The McDonald’s fountain Coke does just hit different.

Sound Only

I’ve lost track of whether or not a 38-year-old is considered a millennial, but I’m quite confident that I’m not exactly plugged into “the millennial lifestyle” as my teammates Justin Charity and Micah Peters discuss it on their podcast, which relaunched this summer. Doesn’t matter, though, because I love hearing Charity and Micah talk to each other even if I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Their conversation about Dave Chappelle was great. After listening to their Travis Scott episode, I felt like I kind of understood who he is and why he occupies the space he does in pop culture now. I had no idea how they were going to get me to give a shit about set photos from The Batman, but this they not only got me there, but wended their way toward blaming 50 Cent for needing to know who Groot is to have a conversation on the internet, which is something for which Abraham Lincoln did not die. The show is good, it's getting better, it’s fun to hear them talk their shit, and Charity’s regular bellowing of “I, TOO, AM AMERICA” has made me smile for four straight months. 

Siobhan’s letters and notes

She’s in first grade now, and she’s taken to communicating her feelings through the written word. A lot.

I won’t pretend that I loved all of these in the moment. I can only get so upset, though, when she’s already writing with such a clear voice. (And trying to use proper punctuation. (And drawing little cartoons to drive the point home.)

Palm Springs

I’m having a hard time remembering too many specifics about it right now, which probably means it’d be a good thing to rewatch over the holidays. But, as I’m sure many people noted many months before we got around to watching it, a comedy about living the same day over and over again, and about trying to figure out how to make your life mean something when everything seems meaningless, scratched a pretty particular, and particularly important, itch this year. It could’ve been twice as long, and I would’ve eaten up every second of Andy Samberg and Cristin Miloti together.

I’m pretty sure I cried, although this year, that doesn’t necessarily mean much.  Also, put Conner O’Malley in more things.

Joining our union’s bargaining committee

I won’t say too much about this, but I will say that becoming an active participant in the process of a labor union negotiating its first contract with management has been an extremely educational experience. It’s pushed me to have conversations, sometimes difficult ones, about our priorities as a staff and a company. It's helped me get closer with the other past and present members of the BC, and has led me to start developing relationships with members of our staff that I otherwise might not have had much of an opportunity to get to know.

The organizing work takes time, effort, and energy, but trying to do what I can to help take better care of my colleagues has been well worth all of that. Here’s hoping that in 2021 we can reach a deal that helps make our workplace even better, stronger, and more equitable for all of us.

Publishing a story about Stevie Nicks’ Fajita Roundup

I swear this is true: After I accepted my offer to work at The Ringer, but before I started, I told a friend that one thing I was excited about was that you had the chance to work on offbeat stuff here, in both the “kind of weird” and “not about the NBA” senses. That, I thought, might maybe open the door to me getting to write a story about a Saturday Night Live sketch I saw when I was a teenager about Stevie Nicks from Fleetwod Mac running a cheap Tex-Mex restaurant in Sedona, Arizona — a sketch that I wasn’t sure anyone else remembered, but that was stuck in my head forever.

That story ran on May 26.

A lot of people seemed to like it.

Accomplishing this goal was, as dumb as this might sound, a highlight of my year, and, honestly, a highlight of my career. I’d like to do some more stuff like this next year, time permitting; we’ll see. Whether or not I do, I got to do this. I’ll always have that.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Idolish7 17 | Hinamatsuri 8 | Boueibu HK 8 | BnHA 46 | MSO 9 | Rokuhoudou 8 | Code:Realise 13

Idolish7 17 (FINAL)

The culture clash here is hilarious! It’s pretty obvious this unknown guy is Douglas, though.

I can’t believe they’re doing these songs! I’ve known about these songs for a while, since they made waves a few years back – I think Memories Melodies’s music video was animated by Studio Bones and Leopard Eyes by NAZ.

Come to think of it, they never really show idol shows from the fans’ perspective, so this girl’s shots (Aya’s?) are a new thing for the entire genre…

Huh? Wait…this is the real Aya! Oh my gosh!

Well, that’s the end of another show. See you around.

Hinamatsuri 8

Where is “home” for Hina, though?

Geesh, the continuity on this show…what they’re saying right now means the opening of the episode was in medias res, dangit. Stop being so confusing.

I don’t really care about Ikaruga, I care about the “Standing Sushi Bar” in the back more…sorry, Ikaruga.

A few episodes, Hina really was homeless…hmm, continuity’s back in action here.

“Hurray for Psychic Powers” – I was reminded of a book that once appeared in Kado. Unfortunately, that book’s name is Ningen Manzai with all kanji, so it’s not a very close reference if it’s intended to be one…

“Ma Monthly” – Well, wouldn’t you know it? Boueibu collabs mean something here! See, this magazine is a parody of Monthly Mu, which (for some arbitrary reason) decided to team up with Boueibu back in 2016. Hinamatsuri even parodies the magazine’s logo properly! Amazing!

More namahage gags. C’mon, they wouldn’t escape me. They’ve been appearing for a while now, those.

Last time an anime character had a master the same age…*thinks back* That would be Ore Monogatari, with Saijou! Man, that was a while ago. If you don’t count the “same age” bit though, you have OPM and BnHA, which are a lot more fresh.

Jojothan’s (sic)? Is that a Jojo reference, a Johnath…aww, it doesn’t seem to exist. Dangit.

Hitomi’s going to take the dog in, isn’t she?

Even Hina’s shirt says “byebye”…geez, this is kinda saddening already.

Now Hina’s shirt says “sayonara”…why did they poke a hose through her nose, anyway? It made me laugh, sure, but…it’s stupid anyway.

What does Hinamatsuri do without “Hina”, anyway?

Oh, so that’s the significance of that part (post-credits sequence, ep 1)! I didn’t like that part, so I wished to never see it again, but now that it has some significance…it can stay.

I don’t think I’ve seen that image of Nitta with the hand to his head, with the vases on the side before…it must be new.

Normally Hina’s in the seat next to Nitta, right? Oh dear. Also, Utako’s missing and you can see Nitta’s sister in the bar shot as well. The rock singers who wanted to go to the Budokan with Hina are in the back, too, although there may be some people I don’t recognise in the bar shot as well…

Jinsei wa Survival = Life is Survival, not Life is About Survival…

Boueibu HK 8

Summer episode! At least it doesn’t sound as bad a fanservice episode than episode 7 did…(for Astral’s sake)

Karurusu brought back En’s old “What did you say?!”, but now there’s a rakugo background! (small LOL)

I can’t believe Manza tried to push his glasses up in the bath (LOL). Is this what glasses-wearers have to go through?

These seem a little too specific…and to Wakura’s sadistic taste for that last one…to be anything Kyoutarou thought up on his own. (i.e. They probably actually happened.)

Huhhhhhh…I think we finally had an actual woman appear on this show…amazing! (The Osomatsus’ mother, she has a name but I forgot what her name is.) Must be Osomatsu-kun from the ‘60s or ‘80s though, because that sure as heck ain’t the “gets episode 1 pulled from Crunchyroll” Osomatsu-san. I watched the entire season one of that thing, remember?

That dot point looks like a shell for some reason. It’s just two circles put together though. My brain must be in a summer mood from the episode, eh?

I know there’s one jellyfish where you have to cure the sting by peeing on it…oh sorry. I’m falling into Mahou Shoujo Ore’s “crass jokes” trap…

Dougo…likes natto? Weird. Plain weird.

I almost thought they were going to go camping just to fulfil the gap left by YuruCamp, but I guess the audience for YuruCamp and Boueibu doesn’t really cross over. I’m such an anomaly in that case, huh? I still want to know Pinecone-chan’s VA, come to think of it…

Like, c’mon! I can’t even break down that joke (Rashio Taison), it’s too obvious from looking at his name in furigana!

So Rashio is like the snowman from season 2…and the volleyball guy from season 2…maybe Kurotori? I don’t remember his school circumstances anymore…

They used CGI on the plane…? If they did, I barely noticed it until I played the scene again.

Oh wait, that’s a Studio Comet plane…ahaha…(look at Studio Comet’s logo for the joke explanation)

*crashes head on wall* Martha Shirahone…*eyes blank*…Martha Shirahone…Martha’s a girl’s name!!! Does that mean Astral wins?! My pride and the Boueibu status quo have both been wrecked if Martha (sic) really is on the non-binary spectrum…and it’s not some weird Engrish typo…Poor boy though, he spent 4 years depriving himself of one of his favourite things to prevent himself from being teased. (Okay, this “Martha” spelling’s going to annoy me for a while, so I’m going to revert back to “Maasa”…)

Interestingly, Maasa seems to be using a standard vinyl umbrella and not a “student-council-worthy” one. Update: Nope, this one’s sanctioned by the British Royal Family.

Eh? What’s with this monster’s face? He doesn’t have one, does he? I know what the kanji on his face is, but…I think this might be a first. A monster without a face whatsoever.

Is it just me, or did they get CGI for those clouds as well…?

Wait, so even Karurusu is against the idea of fighting this monster? Mr Enthusiastic’s kinda selfish, eh?

Kyoutarou’s still wearing his school swimsuit. But this definitely reminds me of Dark Aurite with the lip coloration...

Wakura so obviously followed Ryoma’s voice instead. It’s pretty much what Astral termed a “nutshot” for MSO ep 8, only it’s…meant to be kinky (I’m not feeling it, y’know?). I’m just vaguely miffed right here that they could be trying to put a cheap joke in Boueibu.

Ooh, nagashi somen with its bamboo…thingy…looks cool. Oh, but Ibusuki…no wonder Ata likes this kind of noodles.

Karurusu’s flag says “summer” on it.

It’s a bit blurry, but the bus says “campground” as its destination.

I wonder if that “spirit of fear” thing was a joke? I’ll come back and find it later. Update: There’s no joke there in Japanese…the word for “spirit of fun” sounds like kyuuki and then “spirit of fear” is just dokidokishiteru (which is just a word for the heart pounding, suggesting nervousness in this case).

Hey, someone (Ryoma) noticed Taishi’s angry outbursts for once!

What, the monster has a mouth, so he does kind of have a face…? (I’m confused…what constitutes “face�� with this guy anyway?)

Karurusu…he dab! (…Kind of.)

Full transformation sequence again…*sigh*

Noticeably, you can only see Ryoma nodding when the Rajio Taiso monster asks if you can do rajio taiso outside of summer. I’d assume this is because Ryoma’s the one with the grandpa who does it all year round, but it might just be a space constraint. You never know with these things.

There’s another pun I need to go back to – “I feel radio calis-cleansed”. That can’t have worked in Japanese…Update: Uh, there was actually one here. It seems to be a pun on taiso.

Aw, Rashio’s so happy. Even if I think the staff have reached a new low with the “petty” on the monsters this time around, just seeing that smile lights up my face too.

Why do I feel a Madoka moment coming on right here with Karurusu’s promise?

It’s a Kagerou Project-style time loop, but for August 31st! Yikes! This is going to get confusing…

Yeah, it’s better not to think about time loops, Kyoutarou. You’re right.

Is “firework” a verb? Or is that wasei-eigo? Or slang? Or both? More things to not think about there…methinks. Update: Dougo says “hanabi taikai shimashou!” (literally “let’s do a fireworks tournament!”), so it’s not wasei-eigo, nor is it a verb. It’s just an unconventional subber’s choice.

They censored a big sign in the preview! But Crunchyroll doesn’t have episode 9 yet because of the French Open! Dangit!

I love how the blue bars randomly go “La la la laaaaa!”…LOL. But it also says “they find party dice in the clubroom…” (because it’s bushitsu kara dete kita no wa party saikoro).

BnHA 46

“Those acts are the same as those of villains.” – Actually, that would be the acts of vigilantes…*thinks about the Vigilantes manga*

Because Kouta’s letter was in hiragana, I could understand most of it…eh, my skills are pretty shabby after all. I couldn’t even understand the last line much.

“like a pair of tight jeans” – LOL, Best Jeanist seems to love a good jeans pun, eh?

Come to think of it, Gran Torino doesn’t have a number to his hero status, right? He’s just an ol’ fart after all, even if he’s mighty skilled.

We haven’t seen Mt. Lady or Shinrin Kamui (“Forest Kamui” would probably be his English name, but it’s in katakana…and it sounds stupid, to boot) in a while, come to think of it.

I didn’t think Iida was going to go with them! Wow, what a twist!

I always thought having two Kirishimas in the same season was funny enough (Ryoma from Boueibu and Eijirou).

Kamino? Because the subbers spelt it with a C, that seems like it should be a reference for some reason…Update: Yep, it is!

What’s up with the roses around Todoroki? Are you trying to make the fangirls squeal like this is some shoujo manga? Yeah, right! (laughs in the background anyway)

Aizawa looks really different in a suit…hmm, I normally like men in suits but I’m kinda iffy on suit!Aizawa. *ponders for a second* I prefer his old style more, actually.

MSO 9

Noticeably, Michiru uses koitsu (“this guy”) to refer to Ore. It does tell you something about how Michiru views her enemies.

What’s up with Mohiro in a dress? Princess Peach parody?

Even Saki’s ahoge goes “Oh!”, LOL!

A heart shake for the yuri fans…and stupid glasses for my entertainment. (Thank goodness you’re still catering towards me, show…)

That joke about murdering Hyoue completely went over my head…I get what it was trying to do, but…not funny, man. Not funny.

Michiru uses the –ssu ending that Dougo and Yumoto use, too…

Oh…dear. I think we have more than enough of the word “Happy” with Happy Kiss…now this mascot, too???

I thought Hyoue’s surname was “Kuroda”? Or is that just my imagination? Update: It seems I made it up…

U-Uh, hey…so this was their real intention with those eyecatches, huh? Another “draw me like one of your French girls” memes is in order! Wait, but Ruka’s magical girl form isn’t doing the right pose…aww.

It seems Ruka isn’t into the Magical Girls (it’s implied she’s into Michiru instead), but Michiru’s into Ore…just as Astral guessed.

If that sentence didn’t make sense, it wasn’t meant to! It was just a bunch of long English words thrown together…although “jihad” certainly isn’t English. I wonder if any religious people will get angry at that word being used so casually, though? (I didn’t expect to laugh so hard at these guys. Konami’s my favourite character – of course he is, considering the karaoke episode - but I think I have an appreciation for these guys now.)

LOL, me and Astral like to complain about how thinking up new attack names takes an hour or so…so we totally know your feel, Michiru.

If you look at the scene where PRISMA are shown to attack, it says bokasuka, which apparently means “lots of hits and punches in succession”. It’s basically like subbing it “fistfight!”, “kapow!” or something.

Happy-chan doesn’t even have a body in tiny form!!! What??? (LOL)

Can we please stop with the montages?! A show is better when people bother to animate stuff, alright?!

Happy-chan went “doukashira?” (-kashira is a female sentence ending) which made me laugh because it’s a contrast to that head of his.

Happy-chan doesn’t even have hands…I’m not sure how he’s meant to live like that, y’know?

That catchphrase has less impact the second time around, it seems.

Hmm…so it was actually foreshadowing for Michiru’s love, huh? I thought it was pandering to tsundere stereotypes…

As much as I laughed at the ol’ kick to the face, are Happy and Kokoro really brothers? Or is this just filler after all?

Oh, this new ED is “We’re Not Magical Girls” by the Mahou Shoujo unit (Saki/Sakuyo)!

You can spot a tiny magical girl figurine with pigtails on Yamo’s desk if you watch at the right time.

PRISMA’s song is called “Love/Attack!”

They actually got a next episode preview narrated by demons?! (LOL) This is a new level of weirdness, and I’m actually glad to have heard it with my own ears (because I’m trembling with laughter right now because of it). But…they talk at the end! They can speak?! Whatttttttt?!

Rokuhoudou 8

Gure’s got stud earrings. Don’t think I’ve noticed them before…

It appears to be a florentine and not a “florentin” like the subs say. It is just missing an “e” though…

Happy, happy! I think Karurusu got me into the spirit of being happy all the time…or at least happier than I used to be, anyway.

Seriously, this middle school kid acts like a Boueibu monster, it’s hard not to make a comparison.

Gure’s so goofy, I’m laughing as much as I normally do for Boueibu or MSO…Rokuhoudou isn’t normally like this, that’s all.

“good way to sober up” – It sure doesn’t seem that way for Tsubaki, though…poor soul.

That style with the lips…it’s so un-Rokuhoudou, and yet it still works! I can’t think of what it reminds me of, though, because it seems to remind me of another anime or manga and I can’t put my finger on it. Update: Maybe MSO? That’s the closest thing I can think of that matches right now.

Hey, come to think of it, doesn’t this guy look like Shishigami from Inuyashiki? Their outlook on life is mostly the same, too! (from what little I know about Shishigami in passing)

Uh…Gure? Didn’t anyone teach You about stranger danger?!

The delinquents…are in the duck boating club?! Well, that was a surprise…

This pretty much became my favourite episode, even though Tokitaka’s still my fave Rokuhoudou boy, LOL.

Code:Realise 13

Since I don’t know whether to denote this as the final episode or not, I won’t note it as anything…

Isn’t Cardia Lupin’s girl? Hands off, Impey!

The newspaper Herlock’s holding has an ad for animators…wuh? In the Code:Realise Victorian era? No way, Jose!

[petersvibes]

end up here - peter parker

anonymous asked: Hi! Do you think you could write an Imagines with Peter based on end up here by 5sos? It’s totally ok if you don’t want too! Thanks and I love ur writing!!

song: end up here - 5 seconds of summer 

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: none 

author’s note: I’M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IT’S JUST. i was struggling ngl. i’m in high school now but when i was 12 this song used 👏🏾to 👏🏾 bang👏🏾. i mean BANG. haven’t listened to it in a long time so i was lacking some inspiration. if you want to hear about my 5sos stories i’ll gladly dish. this is also p short but i have my reasons. 

You thrive in settings like this, where the music is loud enough to drown out all of your sorrows and the relationships you forge are superficial. People don’t care enough to know you at a party; they care about the your body, the way you act, and you’ve definitely learned how to deal with that. At a party, you can be whatever people want you to be, a pretty face, an intoxicating presence, or a shadowed mystery. But for Peter, the setting doesn’t matter; because no matter what light he sees you in, you’re you. You’re funny, you’re charming, you’re witty. You can recall a math formula with as much ease as you can a comeback, and you can bring him to his knees with the simplest of touches.

However, aside from the occasional conversation in calculus or the few times you’ve decided to sit at his lunch table, you’re practically strangers. Somehow, he’s known you since you were in middle school, but in all this time it seems you’ve grown to be so enigmatic that what casual interactions he has with you are merely fleeting

“Peter Parker.” You drag out his name, sliding into the seat next to him. You live to see the blush make its way across his cheeks, so profound even in the dim light surrounding you. He sits up straighter, wishing he had time to adjust his hair despite the countless hours he spent on it, knowing he’d be at the same party as you. But of course, he didn’t see you coming. He never does. 

Peter takes a deep breath, ordering himself to calm his heart rate. His eyes flicker to yours, set ablaze by “H-Hi (Y/N).” He rubs his hands on his jeans and looks down, unable to see you pout as you lose sight of his pretty latte colored eyes. 

You sense his nervousness and you lean further into him, resting your elbow on the back of the couch. You’re curled up so that your knee rests slightly on his thigh, your touch burning through the fabric of his dark jeans. “So what’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?” You quip, your smile dazzling.

He doesn't know how to respond, but he smiles anyway, trying not to get lost in the brightness of your eyes. You chuckle, patting his arm. “I’m just messin’ with you.” You say. “However, I never thought I would see you at one of Cindy’s bashes. And I haven’t seen you at an out-of-school function since Liz’s before homecoming.” 

Peter swallows, brushing his hands on the denim. Truthfully, he only self-confirmed his attendance when he overheard you talking about the playlist with Flash, but if you ever found that out, he’d probably die. “I just thought it’d be fun.” He shrugs, trying his very best to keep his voice level. 

The sound of a pair of screaming teenagers fills your ears, making you momentarily roll your eyes. “I can assure you it won’t be.” You say, glancing around the backyard. In the corner, Flash is DJing and taking jabs at anyone who looks even remotely funny. A few feet ahead is a very intense game of beer pong, and at this stage, you and Peter are probably the only people here whose cups are filled with nothing but water. It’s music and drinking and sexual escapades in their initial stages, but in no way is it happy, nor is it good, nor is it fun.

Peter follows your eye line, clearing his throat. “Then why do you come?” He asks. “You are the (Y/N) (Y/L/N) after all.” 

Ignoring the latter half of his comment, you shrug. “I suppose I don’t have to.” You say, Peter listening intently. “I don’t know. I guess I just hope I’ll meet someone intriguing at one of these things. Like you.” You waggle your eyebrows and he grins. 

“I’m in no way intriguing.” The word tastes foreign on his tongue but you can convince him of anything. 

“Don’t kid, Mr. Parker. I’ve seen you around school all secretive with Ned. Disappearing as soon as the bell rings.” Peter gulps, and unbeknownst to you, anxiety starts to build in the depths of his stomach. “Very suspicious if you ask me.” 

“Just the Stark Internship.” He glances around, hoping he’s playing the part of a nonchalant high school student just well enough to convince you.

Eyeing him slyly, you speak. “You don’t think you’re suspicious, fine, but you’re easily the most interesting person here. So for me, this party’s a success.” 

Peter’s palms fly to face, covering the redness of his skin and the embarrassment of his wide smile. “Stop,” He whines, and you giggle. 

“You are just too easy.” 

You and Peter spend a majority of the party on the couch, but from the perspective of any one that happened upon the two of you, with your knees tuck into the warmth of his sides and his arm around the back of your cushion, you were definitely closer than too mere acquaintances should be. By the time the sun sets and moonlight casts its light upon the backyard, neither of you have noticed when you throw your head back from one of his comments about your chemistry teacher, you end up leaning on his shoulder. If you get splashed by pool water you hide in his chest and at one point, Peter’s arm ends up around the back of the couch, sliding down so that it barely touches your shoulders. 

What astonishes Peter the most about his newfound composure around you is that after the initial shock from the fact that you were intentionally sitting with him, his nervousness fades instantly. You’re easily the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, or met, but this part of your allure is new to him; you have this unique way of sending warmth and relaxation through him with only your words. A few times his jokes are good enough that after the initial laugh, you settle into his airy little giggle where your cheeks flush like a peony. You light up when you talk about travel, you frown when he mentions the future, and in the few hours that you speak it feel like he’s known you forever.

It rounds eleven o’clock and you’re dividing your attention between his face and your watch, your quips sometimes interrupted with your own yawns. 

“I should probably head on home.” You say, although from the looks of your less than sober classmates the party is only just beginning. “Even the (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has parents who would kill her if she stayed out too late.” You mock his tone from earlier and he rolls his eyes, a twinge of sadness plaguing his expression. “It’s been real Mr. Parker.” You send him a small smile, standing up to collect yourself. 

He doesn’t know if it’s his stupid impulsiveness, or if another part of him is too desperate for your presence that he can’t  et you go, but he springs up from his seat, startling you in the process.

“I can walk you home?” He suggests, his voice cracking on the last word. 

For a moment longer than you intended, your expression is blank enough that he feels his confidence completely deplete. He opens his mouth to change the subject in defeat, but stops himself immediately when he sees your lips upturn.

“I would really like that.”

Truthfully, the walk should’ve taken no more than twenty minutes, but in your cheerful stupor, you’re making him stop to pet every dog, stare at every street art piece, and avoid cracks on the sidewalk. Much to his surprise, by the time you’ve arrived at your home, your shoulders are drooped and you make no efforts to open your front door. 

“This is me.” You say, rocking back and forth between your heels and your toes. “Thank you for tonight though. I had fun.” You step towards him, placing your small hand on his muscular shoulder. 

Peter makes a face, but looks down, folding his hands together. His brow furrows but he starts to pout. It’s a cross between surprise and disappointment as he drags his feet on the brick of your landing, a rock rolling under his shoe.

Your eyes crinkle as sunshine spreads through them. “What’s that for?” You ask, poking the frown. He shakes his head, mumbling that it’s nothing but You place your first two fingers under his chin, tilting it unto look at you. He feels his lungs constrict from the intimacy of your touch, your eyes trapping him again. “What?” You muse, smiling sweetly.

Peter clears his throat, his eyes drifting to the sight of your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. In no way is he being remotely discreet and you know it, your ego inflating from his demeanor alone. 

His wispy curls blow in front of his eyes and you reach up, brushing it away with cold fingertips that send shivers down his spine. “Peter,” You murmur, your voice quiet and as sweet as sugar. “Do you wanna kiss me?” 

His breath hitches and his lips part, yet no words come out. You feel a chill brush past the tip of your nose and you smile, but not that dazzling way you usually do, but the real way you hardly show. You’ve completely compelled him, your words as effective as the lasso of truth. He nods silently, afraid that if he answers you with words, the best case scenario is that he stutters himself into oblivion and the worst is that what comes out of his mouth is actual vomit.

So you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in until your chests touch and you’re on your tiptoes. Peter tentatively places his hands on your waist, awestruck as he feels you lean in, goosebumps forming on his skin. Your lips, what little he’s felt from them, are just as soft as he pictured, and with you this close he can feel your lulling heartbeat. His eyes flutter shut and just as he’s about to meet your lips, he feels your lips brush past his cheek and rest right by his ear. 

“Good to know.” You whisper, and before he can open his eyes in shock, you’ve disappeared into your building, the feeling of your lips on his skin a mere memory. 

[mastcomm]

Review: In ‘Grand Horizons,’ Marriage Is a Long-Running Farce

To call “Grand Horizons” one of the brightest shows to hit Broadway in years is not to tout its intelligence, which flickers. Rather, I mean that it is blindingly lit, no doubt in deference to the theatrical wisdom that defines comedy as what dies in the dark.

And, boy, does “Grand Horizons” want to sell itself as comedy. Not witty comedy with its verbal arabesques, nor intellectual comedy with its Paris Review name-checks, nor meta-comedy with its scrambled plotlines — but the vanilla kind that once dominated commercial theater. It’s not entirely meant as praise to say that this Second Stage production is a big-laugh, blue-joke, bourgeois lark of the type Neil Simon mastered until the times mastered him and the genre petered out.

There’s a reason it did, and perhaps what the playwright Bess Wohl is attempting in “Grand Horizons,” which opened on Thursday at the Helen Hayes Theater, is a last-ditch act of reclamation: a boulevard comedy for a cul-de-sac age.

She has certainly furnished the play with all the original equipment. For starters, there’s the zingy premise: Over dinner one night, Nancy, a retired librarian approaching 80, turns to Bill, her husband of 50 years, and calmly announces that she wants a divorce. “All right,” he answers, continuing to eat as the audience roars.

That Nancy is played by Jane Alexander, and Bill by James Cromwell — both actors with heavy résumés — suggests something darker may be in store. So does the occasional sound of gunshots seeping through the thin walls of the cookie-cutter house in the retirement community that gives the play its sarcastic title. That noise turns out to be coming from a television next door; it is merely misdirection like “Grand Horizons” as a whole, whose lunge at gravitas is too little, too late.

At least in part, that’s because Wohl and the director, Leigh Silverman, so overplay the sitcom style at the start. Following Nancy’s declaration and Bill’s acquiescence, their sons, Ben and Brian, descend in a flurry of this-isn’t-happening hysteria. Ben (Ben McKenzie) is the stereotypical firstborn, overburdened and bossy; Brian (Michael Urie) the stereotypical baby, overindulged and whiny. Both insist that people so nearly dead as their parents have no business splitting up. “How much else even is there?” Ben sputters.

“Grand Horizons” is filled with thin jokes like that, the kind that do not hesitate to sell character reality up the river in exchange for a chuckle. Ben’s wife, Jess (Ashley Park), is a nonstop satire of touchy-feely therapists as seen less in life than in other plays; she urges her in-laws, who were never physically close, to begin the healing by holding hands. And Brian — especially in Urie’s by now predictable performance — is a tired burlesque of the dithery, narcissistic gay man who turns everything he touches into silly drama. Indeed, he’s a drama teacher, currently directing a school production of “The Crucible” that features 200 students.

The parents are more complexly written — and more compellingly acted — but even so, Nancy’s insistence that, after a loveless marriage, she deserves a chance at authentic joy is as often as not played for dirty-talking-old-lady laughs. Alexander, with her patrician aplomb, does this beautifully; you haven’t lived until you’ve heard a woman who once played Eleanor Roosevelt sing the praises of cunnilingus.

But not everything beautifully done makes sense beyond its immediate context, and often the context seems woefully contrived. Though Bill is a classic sourpuss, Wohl has him enroll in a stand-up comedy class at the recreation center — largely, it seems, to let him tell a great old joke about St. Peter welcoming four nuns to heaven. Cromwell underplays this, and everything else, as if to avoid setting off believability alarms.

Also taking the stand-up class is Carla (Priscilla Lopez), whose free-spiritedness, meant to show up Nancy’s primness, is mostly demonstrated by her wearing a garish scarf. (The costumes are by Linda Cho.) Alas, the scarf is merely a fuchsia herring; Carla is just like everyone else, getting big laughs with cute sex talk.

I could go on — there’s a mortifying scene in which Brian brings home a man for a hookup — but I have to remind myself that Wohl is in fact one of our cleverest playwrights, exploring the outer limits of naturalism in search of new ways of expressing new feelings. Both “Small Mouth Sounds” and “Make Believe,” which are as suggestive and shadowy as “Grand Horizons” is obvious and glary, were on recent Top 10 lists of mine.

Like them, “Grand Horizons” is perfectly structured, mimicking the classic works of stage comedy with a stupendous Act I curtain, a neat Act II surprise and a final beat that would be haunting if the road leading to it were not so littered with extorted laughs. Nor can the production, including that alarming lighting by Jen Schriever, be faulted; Silverman seems to have staged the play exactly as Wohl intended, stopping shy only of a laugh track to get the audience coughing up yuks.

But what is it Wohl really intends? She’s too serious a playwright to be trying to game the market — though “Grand Horizons,” with its pace, pedigree and cast of six, is likely to be performed in regional and amateur theaters for years. Nor do I think it is purely a botch, a mess that got that way by itself. The constraints of its genre are too bizarre not to have been chosen deliberately, just as Wohl deliberately constrained “Small Mouth Sounds” by setting it at a wordless spiritual retreat, and “Make Believe” by using the playacting of children as a medium for dramatizing mistreatment.

“Grand Horizons,” then, may be doing something similar. The genre that Simon buffed to a high polish in works like “Plaza Suite” — a three-part marriage farce that returns to Broadway this spring — was built on cracks in American confidence that by 1968, when the play had its premiere, were beginning to undermine faith in our fundamental institutions. Those cracks having now become chasms, Wohl can use the falseness of Simonesque stage comedy to dramatize the falseness of her real subject, which is not divorce but marriage. Nancy calls it a stray dog, a boa constrictor, a box you can’t claw your way out of: “Don’t respect it because God knows it doesn’t respect you.”

Unfortunately, her realization that she can no longer tell the requisite wifely lies — the ones that say her husband and children are infinitely excusable — comes too late in her life, as too late in the play. “The first part of love is truth,” she concludes.

If only it were the first part of “Grand Horizons” as well. That might have been genuinely funny.

Grand Horizons

Tickets Through March 1 at the Helen Hayes Theater, Manhattan; 212-541-4516, 2st.com. Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes.

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/entertainment/review-in-grand-horizons-marriage-is-a-long-running-farce/