Beyonce performing as part of her Formation Tour in 2016.

Flawless and Womanist

My plans for today were relatively unambitious.

  • Follow through on my intention to dump out and purge another dresser drawer while the dog was at daycare (check).
  • Get a very small, chipping-away-at-it, start on cleaning up the clutter room in the basement (check check).
  • Finally finish the tome I’ve been working on since late March (record scratch).

Two out of three ain’t bad. You see, what I didn’t plan on today was watching Beyonce’s Homecoming.

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Comedy on a Pedestal

One of the things I did accomplish over the weekend — though here, I’m defining the verb “to accomplish” very loosely — is clear some of the detritus off of the DVD player. Some of this was deleting things I’d watched already and saved for some inexplicable reason; some of this was ruthlessly deleting things I’m a) never going to watch or b) can find On Demand if the temptation to view ever becomes undeniable. And some of it was watching shows I’d taped in past weeks. Like the Emmy telecast.

Which means I am now finally qualified to comment on Vergara-gate 2014.

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Not Flawless, but Feminist

I watched the first 20 minutes or so of last week’s VMAs on the night of the telecast, using the miracle of DVR-time-shifting to watch a small bit of the ceremony after the True Blood finale concluded. And even though I wasn’t wearing my pre-cog goggles, I will say that the performances I watched had a bit of a feeling of prelude about them. Like I couldn’t have told you what the main event was going to be, but those opening acts most certainly were not it.

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