The Newsroom, series 2

http://hbowatch.com/the-newsroom-the-genoa-ti/

Just stopped watching Aaron Sorkin's The Newsroom series 2 episode 1.

The bastards opened a whole bunch of captivating storylines without closing any just to make sure that, come next Sunday, I'll be sitting my nose on the TV screen and salivating like Pavlov's dogs into their empty food bowls. And shameful for not feeling any shame at all.

The biggest question: Why is Maggie looking like that red and spiky-headed girl with the dragon tattoo?

Flying wild Alaska

One 'reality' TV series I actually enjoyed watching from the beginning until the end. You may enjoy it, too, even if you are not an aviation geek.

Flying Wild Alaska is following the owner of Era Alaska, Jim Tweto, his lovely family and company's bush-pilots flying single-engine Cessnas around western Alaska. With no drivable roads for hundreds of miles, Era Alaska is the lifeline for the isolated communities along the Bering Sea coastline. Twetos are based on Unalakleet, 750 inhabitants and a small airport right on the seafront facing Russia across Bering. From that point of view they are as much educated in foreign policy as the ex-Governor of Alaska and the potential next US president. What's her face?

Jim Tweto, bushpilot

Lost in cultural translation...

Everybody must've seen this already but still, it's too good not to share. The background is that Dalai Lama was visiting Australia, but apparently not any pizza shop, and a Channel 10 interviewer decided to tell a joke...

Curators and souls

Great museums portray their stolen, empty artefacts – naturally without people, but, if curated with care, are able to tell intact and interested stories of civilisations from vague beginnings to ends.

Art museums curate their art collection to tell stories of development and context of art in society, or of individual artists from their naive but promising beginnings till the bitter ends of creativity.

One’s own life, too, is recalled as a chain of sketched pictures. The internal narrative, our self-curator, the soul, is kept together by something in one’s inside – will to live, perhaps, or quest for immortality, who knows – a story somehow unbroken from the first vague picture with sketched context, ‘me’, to just now when ‘I’ stopped watching Lucien Freud as seen by Hector Obalk.