It’s a three-day weekend, but life continues. Here’s a comprehensive list of what we’re excited about this week.
We intended to catch the season five premiere of The Walking Dead on Sunday, but we just couldn’t look away as the Eagles humiliated the Giants. Tom Coughlin’s brain-dead play-calling aside, we’re now ready to take a trip on the DVR-superhighway with Deputy Grimes. As we wait for that to load (thanks, Time Warner!), we plan on further examining Childish Gambino’s new music video for his (oldish) song “Telegraph Avenue.” His co-star, Jhené Aiko, is easy on the eyes, but we’re really just happy that someone is bringing the “What the Hell Just Happened” school of filmmaking to hip-hop. The Community alum may not have street creed, but he’s better than Drake for the Comic-Con crowd.
Coast Guard corpsmen and medical workers who aren’t, you know, doctors, started screening passengers atJFK International Airport for Ebola on Sunday. Our over/under on one of them taking a grandmother’s temperature rectally or otherwise starting a scandal is two days, so we’ll be watching Twitter. We’ve got money on it and everything. Just before lunch, we’ll check in on the early returns from the premier of Momotaro, Mark Hellyar’s massive, much discussed new Chicago destination restaurant. Then we’ll spend our lunch money on Jimmy Page by Jimmy Page, a coffee table book we won’t let our girlfriend mar with a mug of chamomile.
Somehow—and this is just a suspicion—it feels like we’ll also catch the debut of Marry Me, that new NBC sitcom starring that woman who was actually funny before SNL canned her and Ken Marino, our favorite shows’ (The League, Key and Peele, Drunk History) go-to guest star. Does the show look memorable? It does not. It looks inevitable.
The one group of people in America that doesn’t know that the Orioles are going to lose to the Royals after dropping two at Camden seems to be the Orioles. Expect them to take one in Missouri before succumbing to their wounds and (perhaps) the Royals insane running game. If all goes well, we’ll be checking that score on a demo version of the new HTC Nexus 9, the souped up, TV-size Android brawler rocking a Quad HD screen and a 64 bit Tegra K1 processor set to debut alongside the Motorola Shamu, which is apparently named for a depressed whale. The Fed will also release its Beige Book of economic anecdotes, which is far from light reading. Reports will indicate that the sky is either falling or descending at a consistent, alarming pace.
Apple is like your drunk cousin who insists on being the loudest guy at his brother's graduation. The company has announced an announcement, but not what they will announce. As soon as Tim Cook says the words “wearable tech,” which he will likely do within the first five minutes, we’re dropping the livestream and giving Agent Provocateur's new Salon ads the attention they deserve. Talk about wearable tech.
Remember Inglorious Basterds? That movie was great. Now QED International is making a sequel (or something) called Fury, which sees Brad Pitt killing Germans with a tank and Shia Laboeuf, two terrifying American technologies. If we can’t get a ticket for a Friday showing—Pitt’s pompadour has box-office mojo—we’ll be hitting up the scalpers on Wilshire for tickets to the Hozier show at Immanuel Presbyterian church. The guy crushed it last Saturday so we have about two weeks to shore up our credentials as an early adopter.
Marc Marquez, who clinched his second MotoGP championship in two years this weekend, will be racing in the Tissot Australian Grand Prix. He doesn’t need to win, which is precisely why we want to watch: So we can find out what time of man he is. We already know precisely what type of Manning Eli is, which is why we’ll also be tuning in when the Giants take on the Cowboys. He’ll either turn this thing around or very much not.