Ten Years Later, True Detective Hits Different

When True Detective premiered in January 2014, it was a simpler time. Obama was President, Trump had not yet infected the body politic, and we were still in the so-called Golden Age of television, filled with thought-provoking prestige dramas. True D would get added to that list quickly. Its story telling, across multiple timelines, with two charismatic lead actors (Woody Harrelson as Martin Hart and Matthew McConaughey as Rustin Cole), and a mysterious whodunit (What was Carcosa? Who was the Yellow King?) was the kind of cultural catnip that launched a thousand think pieces (and more than a few memes). Ultimately, the show collected a boat load of awards and spawned two sequels (neither of which reached the narrative level or became part of the cultural zeitgeist of the original) with a third on the way.

At the time, I was in my early-40s, recently divorced and doing some of the best work of my professional life. In other words, it still felt like I had the world by the balls and better days were ahead. As the season unfolded, I found the later episodes the least interesting, thought they dragged a little, and was "meh" about the ending. The eye candy of the early episodes - Rust's interrogation room monologues on the meaning of life, the famous eight-minute tracking scene, the representation of Bayou culture, and the lush cinematography - drew me in. What I missed, like Rust and Marty ignoring the landscaper on the riding mower who turned out to be the killer, was a show telling a much different story.

Yesterday, I stumbled across a True D Season One marathon on HBO, and my experience was completely different than it had been 10 years ago. Obviously, the biggest difference was knowing "whodunit" but more than that, those later episodes, in the "present" timeline of 2012, felt much more relatable as a lonely man in his mid-50s whose career is in a cul de sac he cannot escape. During Marty's interview with Detectives Gilbough and Papania, he recounts the detective's curse, "the solution was right under my nose, but I was focused on the wrong clues." Initially, he points it out as a reason why the case was not solved faster, but later on, he applies it to his personal life too. Marty realized - too late - that having a wife and family was what he should have focused on, but instead, he was too busy carousing, boozing, and having affairs. 

It was a moment of introspection that I probably missed the first time around, but at this stage in my life, it resonated. Not because I wish I was still married, but more so about the emotion that dominates so much of my daily life: regret. Marty and Rust had everything going for them: they cracked a major case, each brought his own talents to their partnership, and they were both thriving. And yet, happiness eluded each of them. Their obsessive natures were their undoing. Rust refused to bend to authority (relatable) and Marty could only stay faithful for so long before he strayed (again). And so, Rust spends his days tending bar and getting drunk, completely isolated from anyone or anything. Marty eats frozen dinners after coming home from his dreary job as a private investigator. Neither man has any friends to speak of or healthy relationships. 

Even the primary critique of the first season - its treatment of women - carried less resonance for me. Far from being a celebration of men, Marty and Rust stand as cautionary tales of "focusing on the wrong clues" in life. In comparison, the female characters exercise far greater agency and independence than it might have seemed on first viewing. Marty's wife Maggie (Michelle Monaghan) is a no-BS partner who eventually kicks Marty to the curb but not before exacting a deep level of revenge against him by sleeping with Rust, blowing up their partnership to boot. Maggie only learns of Marty's initial infidelity because Lisa, (Alexandra Daddario) the woman Marty was having an affair with, tells her about it. And Lisa only does this because Marty reveals himself to be a jealous, unstable, jerk and instead of tolerating him, she takes back possession of her own life by ceasing to allow Marty to control it. In other words, these women are not doormats who allow men to walk all over them. Ultimately, Maggie remarries, lives in a beautifully-appointed home, and maintains a good relationship with her two daughters, whereas Marty lives alone, eats dinner by himself in front of the TV, and has not talked to his kids in years.

And so, when watching the show yesterday, the things that I had found so addictive when it first aired seemed much less interesting. Rust's musings about time being a flat circle felt more like college dorm room claptrap and the narrative seams were more obvious. Instead, I watched it through the eyes of someone who knows what it is for life not to turn out the way they had hoped. To live with regrets of decisions I have made, the authority figures who I did not bend to, and the consequences of those decisions. 

A Fool Proof Way To Get Someone To Stop DMing You

Just suggest you meet in person. Works like a charm every time. And while this is generally true on the dating apps, it works just as well in other contexts. To wit, after my ex-wife died, one of her nieces (the one my ex accused me of sleeping with!) reached out on Facebook to check in. After a little DM back and forth she was like "would love to catch up sometime" and, well, reader, I was admittedly ambivalent about the idea (one of my least favorite conversations is "remember when?") and figured it was just polite social contract chit chat, but just to prove the point, I was like "here's my number if you want to grab coffee or lunch sometime." And then ... crickets. Makes life so much easier when you realize people don't actually want to see you in person, they just want the illusion of it.  

Important Office Episodes: Business School (S3E17)

When Michael leaves Scranton for Colorado, the last person he says goodbye to is Pam. Theirs is a tearful embrace packed with the kind of emotional punch that only comes about when two people are closely bonded. Of course, it was not always so. In the show’s very first episode, Michael “fake fires” Pam, a particularly cruel prank that leaves her in tears. In those early days, Pam was meek and a bit of a wallflower; Michael was an obnoxious bully who often made derogatory (and sometimes sexist) comments toward Pam while she rolled her eyes behind his back and engaged in subtle forms of retaliation like pilfering his Threat Level Midnight script. That the two would become close friends seemed unlikely at best.

And yet, as the show unfolded and the characters developed, that is precisely what happened. A nice example of their nascent friendship occurred in Season Three’s Grief Counseling. Michael, despondent over the death of Ed Truck, his predecessor as regional manager, gets no comfort from his subordinates. But when a bird dies and an impromptu funeral is held for it, Pam gives a eulogy clearly directed at Michael and the sadness he feels. That season is one of evolution for both Michael and Pam. The branch narrowly avoids the chopping block and gives Michael the chance to prove he can manage a larger group of people while he starts a public relationship with Jan. Pam, having called off her wedding to Roy, is starting to come out of her shell (a bit), most particularly by signing up for a painting class (something Roy had dissuaded her from doing when they were engaged). While each was making halting steps toward a better, and more confident future, their path was still wet cement – three of the Stamford transfers left having seen Michael’s version of management and Pam, in a moment of weakness at Phyllis and Bob’s wedding, rekindled her relationship with Roy. A lot hung in the balance, which is why the season’s seventeenth episode, Business School, stands out as a critical one in the development of each character and their relationship to one another.

The set-up is straight-forward. Michael thinks he is being honored in one of Ryan’s business school classes when in fact Ryan invited him solely because doing so bumped him up a letter grade. Pam has invited the office to an art show featuring her and her classmates’ work. They each expect support and admiration, and instead, get the opposite. The students in Ryan’s class look puzzled at first by Michael’s off-the-wall presentation and then turn openly hostile when he gives what they think are non-sensical answers to their questions about the paper business. At the art exhibit Pam stands quietly by her display, her lone visitor being a little old lady who quickly wanders off. When Roy shows up (with his brother in tow, of course) and Pam could use a confidence boost, it is nowhere to be found. Instead, Roy is focused on himself and wants credit for being the only person from the office who showed up. When he and his brother leave after giving her paintings a cursory look, he again fails to read the situation, limply calling Pam’s art “the prettiest art of all the art” but being more concerned with whether she will stop by his place after the exhibit ends.

Meanwhile, Michael learns that Ryan has told his classmates that Dunder Mifflin is not competitive and will likely go out of business in the next 5 to 10 years. Instead of being discouraged like Pam, Michael lashes out, dissing the students as young and ignorant as he storms out of the lecture hall. Ryan’s observation cuts Michael in several ways. First, it comes from Ryan, who Michael views as a mentee and whose approval he desperately craves. Second, it plays into Michael’s insecurity over having never gone to college and being lectured to by a bunch of students. Finally, it calls into question Dunder Mifflin’s business strategy, which is an indirect insult to Michael.

Pam is faring no better. With Roy gone, she is excited to see Oscar and Gil (who do not notice she is behind them as they look at her work). While she expects them to say nice things, instead they dismiss her paintings as “motel art” and agree that she lacks the courage and honesty to be a great artist. She sags visibly, her self-confidence deflated. 

Had the episode ended on these dual notes, each character might have gone in a different – and darker – direction. Michael would have had to accept that Dunder Mifflin might not be able to compete with the big chain paper stores and he would not only lose his job, but people he considered a surrogate family. Pam could have easily decided that she was a failure and stopped painting. But that did not happen. Michael showed up to Pam’s exhibit just as she was taking down her work. Instead of dismissing her lack of talent as Oscar did or barely looking at her work like Roy, Michael takes a genuine interest in her paintings. He quickly zeroes in on Pam’s representation of the Scranton Office Park building, noticing the fine details like the cars parked in the lot and the location of his office window. When he asks her how much it would cost to buy it, she is surprised, but to Michael, the building represents who he is, it defines him as a person – “that is our building, and we sell paper” – he reminds her, so of course he needs to put it in the office. But more importantly, Michael tells Pam that he is proud of her. Her eyes well up with tears and she give Michael a big hug. It is in that moment (I’m ignoring the clumsy “Chunky” joke that kills the mood) that their friendship was fully cemented. Michael stayed true to his belief in his employees, that his job as their manager was to inspire them, that business is about people, and people will never go out of business. For Pam, receiving validation from Michael meant the world to her and confirmed that she was on the right track.

The ripple effect from that one scene was significant. With Ryan elevated to Jan’s job in Season Four, he attempted to implement many of the changes he thought Dunder Mifflin needed, in particular, the launch of a website so customers could buy paper online as opposed to working with a salesperson. Michael stood firm in his belief that customer service was the way to maintain the company’s viability against bigger competitors. In the end, Michael was proven right. Ryan’s website was a flop while the Scranton branch went from being at risk of closing to the most profitable office within the company. David Wallace would ask Michael to do a lecture circuit of the other branches to discuss his business tactics and when the company went bankrupt and was acquired by Sabre, the Scranton branch was singled out as one of the few bright spots.

For Pam, Michael’s support helped her be more open with people and stand up for herself. When Roy freaked out after she told him that she and Jim had kissed at casino night, Pam ended things with him once and for all. At the office’s beach day, she did a fire walk, called out her co-workers for skipping her exhibit, and told Jim she canceled her wedding to Roy because of him. Instead of giving up painting, she continued working at her craft, ultimately receiving commissions to paint two murals – one from the city of Scranton and the other from Nellie for the office warehouse.

And while Business School gave each character a shot in the arm individually, it also solidified their friendship. As the show unfolded, each would be there for the other time and again. Whether it was Pam joining the Michael Scott Paper Company or Michael choosing Pam to take the one new sales job when they both returned, the two of them touring the other branches in Season Five and being there for one another when each sought closure, or staying up all night to work on Michael’s alternative advertisement for Dunder Mifflin, their connection deepened, culminating in their emotional farewell. And that painting Michael swooned over? It would hang in a place of honor until the series ended and Pam plucked it off the wall to take with her to Austin, a reminder of who she could be and for Michael, a reminder of who he was.

2023 Year In Books

1. Writing of the Gods, Edward Dolnick

2. American Midnight, Adam Hoschild

3. Yours Truly, James Hagerty

4. Sweet Land of Liberty, Rossi Anastopoulo 

5. Mudlark, Laura Maiklem

6. Oscar Wars, Michael Schulman 

7. Trust the Plan, Will Sommer

8. When Shea Was Home, Brett Toppel

9. Banned Books, DK Publishing 

10. Black Death at the Golden Gate, David Randall

11. The Wager, David Grann

12. Saying It Loud, Mark Whitaker 

13. STFU, The Power of Keeping Your Mouth Shut in an Endlessly Noisy World, Dan Lyons

14. The Peacemaker, William Inboden

15. When The News Broke, Heather Hendershot

16. The Sewing Girl’s Tale, John Wood Sweet

17. Why We Did It, Tim Miller

18. Ringmaster, Abraham Riesman

20. Homegrown, Jeffrey Toobin

21. The Book of the Dead, John Lloyd

22. The Thursday Murder Club, Richard Osman

23. Opposable Thumbs, Mike Singer

24. The Big Time, Michael MacCambridge

The Cruel Tease of Being a Jets Fan

When the Jets traded for Aaron Rodgers, it is fair to say Jets fans expected games like yesterday's 30-6 win over the Houston Texans. The quarterback threw for 300 yards, the running game was good enough to keep the aggressive Texans defense off balance, and the Jets defense smothered first-year quarterback (and expected rookie of the year) C.J. Stroud, harassing him into barely more than 100 yards passing before knocking him out of the game in the fourth quarter. It was as complete a victory as the Jets have had this year and yet it was a perfect example of what makes this team uniquely frustrating because it was back-up Zach Wilson who was under center, not Rodgers, and the win itself just served to keep the faintest glimmer of playoff hopes alive for a team that has been historically inept on offense all year as the possibility (no matter how remote) of Rodgers's return dangles in front of a fan base who has had their hopes dashed more than Charlie Brown when Lucy pulls away the football at the last second. 

Of course, this cruel tease may be short-lived. The Jets fly to Miami to play the Dolphins next weekend, a team they lost to on Black Friday by three touchdowns but what if they somehow find a way to win? After all, the defense has held quarterbacks to an average of just 170 yards a game and that loss occurred with Tim Boyle (since cut) at quarterback and a fluke play (a pick six to end the first half). It would be very on brand for the Jets to tease its fan base in this way, claw their way to 6-8 and then let sports talk radio go all in on SHOULD AARON RODGERS COME BACK THIS SEASON and if he does, immediately get injured again. This is the Jets, after all. 

The Dodgers Overpaid For Ohtani

Shohei Ohtani announced he is signing a 10-year, $700 million contract with the Los Angeles Dodgers. While the top line number may be eye popping, considering Ohtani's unique ability to pitch, hit, and field, if you squint you can justify it. 

A top of the rotation pitcher costs between $30 million and $43 million a year and a .300 hitter who can hit with power can get paid about that much too. Effectively, Ohtani is two All-Star level talents in one player, but the problem with signing him to a deal of this length (and cost) is that he's now had two major elbow surgeries (in case you were wondering, a functioning elbow is important in hitting but REALLY important in pitching). If Ohtani can't pitch or is not the pitcher he once was because of his previous injuries, this starts looking like a not-so-great contract. Moreover, it pays him $70 million a year until he is 39 years old, an age where player performance notably declines (just ask the Angels how their contract with Albert Pujols worked out). Finally, the Dodgers don't lack for hitting, it's pitching that they need but the money they just gave Ohtani further hamstrings their ability to bolster their starting rotation.

Yes, it's a splashy signing and yes if you are going to pay someone this kind of money, a guy who has Cy Young level pitching talent and Triple Crown level hitting talent is the logical choice. But given Ohtani's injury history, baseball's luxury taxes, the Dodgers' other needs, and the vagaries of the post-season, this looks like a classic case of overpaying. 

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch Is DEAD

A few days ago, I was at work and an email popped up in my inbox. It was from the priest who co-officiated my wedding long ago and who I had not spoken to in some time. It was one of those vague "call me" messages without any context. I assumed he wanted something (the only reason this guy ever got in touch previously) so I, reluctantly, called, figuring I would just get it over with. Instead, and to my surprise, he gave me the best news I had heard in a very long time: my ex-wife died. 

Now I know, it may seem like poor form to celebrate someone's death, but allow me to play a few of the greatest hits from my marriage to a true "see you next Tuesday"

• She was an alcoholic who spent most (all?) of our marriage in a drunken stupor. This made socializing with other people almost impossible because my ex-wife was a mean drunk who literally could not behave in public when she was bombed (which was almost all the time). 
• Her alcoholism also made any long-term financial planning almost impossible because she routinely drove drunk, went to work drunk, and one never knew when she might injure herself or others while behind the wheel, not just creating medical risk, but financial risk too. And lest you think I am being hyperbolic, she was drunk driving alone one night, hit another car, fled the scene, and when I got home from work, there was a police cruiser in my driveway. Of course, by the time the police got the call from the motorist she hit, ran my ex's plate and got to our house, she got the smell of booze off her and being middle class white people in the suburbs, the cop did not even think to ask if she had been drinking. 
• But, you might ask, did you ever ask her to get help? Of course. Many times. Her reaction was either to deny she had a problem or, more typically, blame me for her drinking. See, *I* was the reason she drank, she had no responsibility whatsoever (that's sarcasm).
• She accused me of sleeping with her then 19-year-old niece because her niece committed the unpardonable sin of <checks notes> asking me for advice with a problem she was having instead of asking my then-wife. 
• She was unemployed for more than three years. Why, you ask? She didn't feel like working even though I lost my job at one point while she was not working so we were both unemployed. She didn't even bother applying for unemployment. When I would ask her to look for work, she responded that because I had gone to law school and didn't work (except for summers) while I was in school, this was like being in law school for her. Yes, gentle reader, she compared getting a law degree to sitting on a couch watching TV for three years while being half in the bag.
• She constantly belittled me in front of her own family and mine because she was mad I did not want to work at a big law firm. And while she constantly complained I didn't make enough money, when we divorced, she unsurprisingly was happy to take all that money. 
• When we were 'trying' (half-heartedly) to conceive a child, she claimed her inability to get pregnant was due to - wait for it - my having smoked pot when I was a teenager, not her being overweight, an alcoholic, or a smoker. Of course, when I had my semen analyzed, the OB-GYN told her my sample was one of the most fertile (and motile) she had ever processed. Talk of children ended shortly thereafter.
• She dragged out our divorce for months, refusing to move out of the house (which I decided to stay in and refinance the mortgage) and making life miserable for almost six months.
• She badmouthed me to her family and mine after we split up while I kept my mouth shut. Reader, being the bigger person was not an easy thing to do, but I did it, even though I could have aired all of the above (and more). 

I could go on, but I have no guilt about celebrating her death. I am THRILLED she is dead. She was an emotionally abusive person who made my life miserable for almost 20 years. The psychological damage she inflicted will never heal and the financial hit I took paying her out in the divorce cost me almost $200,000. She is one of the meanest, ugliest (in the personality sense) people I have ever known and I was SO HAPPY to hear her last years were difficult - that she had health problems, that she died alone and no one even knew she was dead for two days, that she never got help for her drinking - all of the things I *knew* would happen, that her life would be a pathetic little jumble, came true. Her obituary is depressing in how little could be said about her time on Earth. Yes, there is satisfaction in being vindicated in your assessment of another person's awfulness, especially one who was so classless, so lacking in any redeeming qualities, and took ZERO responsibility for her actions. I am happy you are dead, you miserable, evil woman. 

Important Office Episodes: The Client (S2E7)

It is well-known that one of, if not the most important reason The Office survived for nine seasons and 200 episodes was Greg Daniels’s realization after Season One that Michael Scott needed a personality overhaul. In the truncated first season, Michael was a petty, mean bully, insecure, incompetent, and also seemed a little racist and a bit of a pervert. In other words, not the kind of lead character an audience would watch year after year. The makeover started subtly in Season Two. The employees rallying to Michael’s defense when a patron mocked him during The Dundies, his panic attack at signing the closing papers that will make him a homeowner in Office Olympics followed by Jim’s awarding of a gold medal to him for going through with the deal were modest tweaks showing Michael’s relationship with his co-workers was friendlier than initially shown and also revealed Michael’s vulnerability.

But The Client is when things kicked into overdrive. The premise is straight forward. Michael and Jan have a meeting with a representative from Lackawanna County named Christian. As Jim explains in a talking head, if Michael and Jan can get Christian to agree to make Dunder Mifflin the county’s paper supplier, it will decrease the chances the Scranton branch will be shut down. While the objective is simple, it is clear Jan and Michael view the meeting much differently. Jan wants it to be rigid and formal, held at a hotel, taking no longer than an hour, and with her doing all the talking. Michael wants the meeting to be informal, so he changes the meeting location from a hotel to a restaurant (Chilis), expects it to take a few hours, and wants equal time in the conversation, even suggesting the duo choose a signal in case the other gets in trouble (which Jan balks at).

Once Michael and Jan arrive at Chilis and the three are seated, Jan gets right down to business, barely wasting time on pleasantries before blurting out “what’s the bottom line” when asking Christian how to win his business. Michael, seeing that Jan has no feel for how sales are done and fearing the meeting will be both short and unsuccessful, interjects, bringing the business discussion to a halt by ordering an appetizer and telling an off-color joke that Christian laughs at. From there, Michael takes over fully. Jan sees him as foolish and performative, but Michael is playing a deeper game. As the evening unfolds, we see that Michael reads people well and the jokes and sing alongs are not an act of buffoonery, but of bonding.

While Jan looks on in revulsion as Michael and Christian gnaw at baby back ribs and is ready to write off the meeting as a boozy failure, Michael’s plan comes into focus. Having kept the meeting loose and friendly, Christian does not even notice the sales pitch Michael gives him. Michael knows Christian must get a good deal and that is more likely to come from a large company that can offer lower prices, so he flips the script and points out that large companies use their leverage to undercut smaller competitors, drive them out of the market, and then raise their prices. When Christian agrees with Michael’s assessment, Michael closes perfectly, casually mentioning that he grew up in Scranton and knows its people and their needs as a way of appealing to Christian’s sense of community. After all, Christian represents the county and is likely a son of Scranton himself. Christian offers his business but needs to show that he saved the county some money. By now, Jan sees what Michael has done and her role is simply to grease the wheels in corporate to make the numbers work, which she does with a broad smile, cementing the deal.

It is a compelling pitch that would have failed had Michael not spent those hours getting to know Christian and doing everything but talk business. By closing, we, the audience, internalize an important point – Michael is very good at his job. This is critical because without that base line of competence, all of the other subsequent character polishing would be irrelevant. We would always wonder, “Why is this guy the regional manager?” A question that was asked over and over again in Season One, whether it was when Michael’s behavior triggered the need for sensitivity training or putting Dwight in charge of selecting a health plan. He always seemed to be in over his head and generally disliked by his employees. Now, having watched him win this important new client, we see that he actually knows what he is doing.

And if that was not enough, the post-closing celebration where Jan and Michael kiss in the parking lot is equally important. While the two go back to Jan’s hotel room, we learn the next morning that they did not have sex, but rather, did some PG-rated making out followed by Jan unburdening herself to Michael for five hours about her divorce. This is a huge departure for him. In the Season One finale Hot Girl he aggressively hits on Katie, a pocketbook saleswoman, and she is visibly uncomfortable with his advances. Now, with his boss a little tipsy, vulnerable because of her recent separation, and buzzing from the high of closing a big sale, he is sensitive and nurturing, not lecherous and gross. It is an important pivot point in the writers’ rebranding of Michael. Going forward, his primary motivation in his intimate relationships is understood as desiring emotional connection leading to marriage and children, not casual flings, further humanizing him as someone who might act a little goofy and inappropriate sometimes, but whose heart is in the right place.

By the end of the episode, Michael’s transformation from an incompetent boss who is creepy with women to a competent boss who treats women respectfully is fully underway; no small feat to accomplish in twenty-two minutes.

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