Opining on House of Cards

Approximately a million internet years ago, radiumhead asked for a post about House of Cards, which I said I'd write once I'd finished the second season of the American one. It turns out I have Thoughts! Many Thoughts.

So, for those of you who have somehow missed this weird bit of popular culture, there are two House of Cards TV shows. One is a BBC series from I think the 90s starring Ian Richardson, the other is Netflix's interesting experiment with the binge-watching model, starring Kevin Spacey. They're both based on novels by Michael Dobbs, which I haven't read (anyone? should I bother?) and follow the adventures of the amoral whip of the party in power (Tories in the BBC version, Democrats in the Netflix one, more on that in a bit) who gets passed over for promotion and, in revenge, destroys everyone until he's on top.

When the Netflix series came out, PopeJohn tried to get me to watch it, and I was kind of like, "ummm, don't really like American political dramas," thinking that it would be like The West Wing. This may surprise some of you but I find American politics duller than the politics of practically any other country. It's not like there's a lot of variation in the political discourse of, say, Canadian politics, but it's still a greater scope than is allowed in American politics. Then he told me that the first scene is Kevin Spacey killing a dog and I decided to give it a chance.

(Because I love manipulative amoral protagonists more than cake, okay? Don't judge me. My formative years were in the grimdark 90s and I can't help it.)

I thought the first Netflix series was quite good. PopeJohn then told me that in the BBC one, they kill Thatcher, so I watched it assuming that it would be better. It was. (I mean, are you surprised? I like the non-American versions of most things better than the American versions.)
( Spoilers for both series, Hunger Games, and 1984 )

P.S. bcholmes, it is now time for me to start watching Hannibal.

Fuck

Marinetti was bleeding from the mouth so I rushed him to the emergency clinic. I'm waiting to hear what the vet says. I'm covered in blood and not optimistic. He didn't seem to be in pain and was purring but quite clingy.

Please keep us in your thoughts.

Saying goodbye to my best friend

This is, as you might imagine, a heartbreaking entry to write. Which means that I'm going to write it once and post it in several places, and my apologies in advance to anyone who has to read it more than once.

Just over a decade ago, I went to the Humane Society to adopt a cat. Being a crazy cat lady (though, at the time, quite catless), I of course found myself paralyzed with indecision, wanting to adopt all of them. Until an oversized white paw whipped out from somewhere in one of the lower, shadowy, almost hidden cages and swiped my leg, and thus Marinetti declared me his own.

He was, at the time, almost four years old, on a medical waiver because of his deformed eyes and chronic herpes infection, and had been at the Humane Society the longest out of all the cats. He looked like a tough customer. Like most creatures who look terrifyingly badass, Marinetti was, naturally, a sweetheart.

Many of you met him over the years and can attest to the fact that he was the Best Cat. He was loving—often at inconvenient times and in inconvenient places, often aggressively affectionate—gregarious, and smart as hell. He was adventurous, even into his old age. What you may not know is that he was also a sensitive gentleman when he needed to be. During the darkest times of my life, he was my one constant, and my best friend.

( Details of how he died )

This is the last picture I took of him, earlier this evening. The fact that he was being sweet to Cocoa here is some indication that he was not himself.

I'm heartbroken. Anguished. There aren't words, really, so I'm not going to try. I've known this was coming for awhile, and that actually makes it somewhat easier, because every second I've had with him has mattered. I know that he had a far better life with me than he would have if we'd never met.

But when I got home from the vet clinic and he didn't meet me at the door I almost broke. I don't know how I'm going to deal with a world that doesn't have him in it. Goodbye, my beloved kitty. I will miss you so much.


Marinetti
February 5, 1999—April 2, 2014