Review of Jonathan Kennedy’s “Pathogenesis”: Mystery of the Neanderthal Extinction Solved!

So I’m fascinated by human prehistory and especially the migrations out of Africa and into Europe that took place roughly 50,000 years ago, which also coincides with one of the great Paleo-World mysteries: Around the time humans immigrated to Europe the Neanderthals died out. They had been thriving for 300,000 years and suddenly (in geological time, at least) poof they were gone. (A simplification, of course. Isolated pockets may have survived to 32-35,000 BP. They were part of the Late Pleistocene Megafauna Extinction Event that saw the disappearance of mammoths, mastodons, smilodons, and many others.) But what caused it? A popular theory has been the humans basically pushed them out of their territory and prevailed because they were smarter. Not so, according to Jonathan Kennedy.

First off he notes the misconceptions about Neandethals: Their brains were actually slightly larger than Homo sapiens. They certainly seem to have mastered their environment and survived for many thousands of years . . . before humans arrived. This is where Kennedy’s subtitle reveals his essential thesis: “A History of the World in Eight Plagues.” He argues that humans had developed antibodies and a history with many more diseases than the Neanderthals. The climate/landscape in Africa is friendlier to pathogens, and thus the human population had their own thousands of years of evolution to adapt. They then arrived in Europe and infected the Neanderthal population, who had no immunities to these pathogens.

It’s an intriguing idea, one that he backs it up with numerous examples of DNA evidence that reveal migrations of different human populations into Europe during the Bronze Age, and how one local population often was supplanted by an immigrant population. It occurred repeatedly in the British Isles, for one example. Although it can’t be proven definitively, it’s an excellent theory.

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The Finale of “DTF St. Louis”: Sad Coda to Great Character

So the NY Times had a piece about the end of DTF St. Louis about which I’ll quibble: The writer was disappointed, it seems, that Floyd and Clark did not become lovers, implying that their “toxic masculinity” (groan) is what keeps them back from happiness and sexual fulfillment. Here’s the quote: “Floyd is reduced to the self-hating, gay-coded character whose sexual exploration concludes with death. And Clark is the male character who grew too close to his friend in a way that threatened his heterosexuality, so he ultimately finds his life upended as well.”

That’s so wrongheaded. It misses all the joy and charm and pathos of the series. Yes, Floyd and Clark love each other. When Jason Bateman (as Clark) insists he didn’t kill Floyd his justification is a confession: “I loved Floyd.” The detectives investigating the case are surprised by this, somewhat, but it’s only the beginning of Clark’s confessions that ultimately resolve the murder mystery and the sadness of Floyd’s unfortunate death. At the end it’s clear Clark loved Floyd but didn’t want to have sex with him. That seems perfectly reasonable. It’s also touching: In the final scene at the pool house Clark tries to alleviate Floyd’s crushing depression and lack of self-esteem by sexual overtures that fall flat. It seems real to me. And as far as the “charm” of the series, most of it involves the tragic-yet-lovable Floyd Smernitch, played by David Harbour. He’s a good guy who cares about others. Admittedly, sometimes too much. At the end we finally learn what caused Floyd’s “crooked dick.” And it’s heartbreaking. 

Here’s what I find most fascinating and admirable about DTF: The writers/director cleverly frame the season as a murder mystery, when it isn’t. It tricks the viewer into watching the story, paying attention to all the clues, only to be surprised at the end when all is not what it seems. But the mystery forces you to pay attention to all the subtle interactions between Carol, Floyd, and Clark. All three of them are “lost” in some way: Carol squirming under crushing debt and disappointment, Floyd suffocating under his weight-gain and idealistic decisions, and Clark ultimately voiceless as a victim of his own peculiar loneliness. The final image conveys Clark’s anguish: He’s sitting on the child’s swing where he would sometimes sit and talk to Floyd, only he’s all alone and bereft. He loved his friend, who is now gone forever. Clark has a successful career and family life, but what good is it when you’re friendless? Much is being written now about American males lack of close friends. That argument often seems rather academic and abstract. The story of Clark and Floyd makes it real.

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Review of Apple TV’s “Outcome”: Schizophrenic Comedy/Drama on Fame and Goodness

So Apple TV has recently debuted a new movie starring Keanu Reeves, Outcome, which is a hybrid of sorts: On the one hand it’s a wacky satire on fame and excess, on fandom and the celebrity curse of no privacy, and on the other hand it’s a serious drama about a famous actor’s guilt, isolation, and sins of arrogance. 

The cast is excellent and very much a part of its schizophrenic personalities: Keanu Reeves plays Reef Hawk, described as the most beloved and acclaimed actor of his generation, who has two Academy Awards (this detail is used for both serious and comic effect). After a hiatus of five years from filmmaking he’s on the comeback trail when a stranger contacts his lawyer with damaging video footage from his past. The plot centers around that event, and suspense: It’s not divulged what is actually on the video, or if it’s even real, until near the end. 

A very much slimmed-down Jonah Hill (who also wrote and directed) plays Reef Hawk’s lawyer and zany fixer. That part of the plot is energetic if not frenetic satire, with Hill going over the top in several scenes, to good comic effect. Cameron Diaz plays Kyle, a high-school friend of Reef’s, who keeps him grounded, kind of—along with Matt Bomer, who plays Xander, Reef’s gay friend. There are some funny and touching cameos, including Martin Scorsese playing Reef’s first agent, and David Spade playing a sleazebag. My favorite was Drew Barrymore playing herself, with a funny joke about Ellen Degeneres. 

As a contrast, Reeves plays this seriously. It’s like his Hamlet. He even has moments of anguished indecision, like the famous Dane, when he’s offered a way to short-circuit the extortion attempt by playing the victim-card. From the outside he’s emotionally devastated, in part because he claims he’s been so careful not to be filmed or to film anyone else when involved in bad behavior. (It’s revealed he was a heroin addict for many years.) There’s a meta angle to the accusations: Keanu Reeves is known as being a good-guy celebrity, sensitive to others, friends of the movie crew, and free from the usual bad-behavior associated with male mega-stars. But in this role all that is actually a fiercely maintained myth: One of the funniest scenes occurs when they try to brainstorm who could be out to get him, and it turns out many many people consider him an asshole. Toward the end he’s really able to pull off the emotional pain of his situation, his guilt and vulnerability. At a late moment he asks his accuser, “Do you hate me?” The accuser replies, “No, man. I love you, bro.” Then why extortion? “I needed the money.”

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Review of Jim DeFelice’s “West Like Lightning: The Brief, Legendary Ride of the Pony Express” (2018)

So I’m a bit of a Western History buff, and can’t help but be fascinated by the Western migration of the 1800s and the legends of the wagon trains, stagecoaches, and, in this case, the illustrious riders of the Pony Express detailed in Jim DeFelice’s West Like Lightning (2018). Some of the “facts” here are astonishing. (And I use the quotes around facts to underscore the difficulty of separating fact from fiction about the Old West, which DeFelice points out. He does a good job of framing each “legendary” story with other “facts” that make the legends hard to believe, but not necessarily false.) For instance, one of the keystones of the Pony Express was its sheer speed: They could get mail from St. Joseph, Missouri to San Francisco, California in 10 days. Up until then the average time to travel that distance was closer to three months. But he notes it often took much more than 10 days, due to weather, accidents, Indian conflicts, and the like. The riders were generally skinny, wiry kids, most of them in their 20s, who often seemed superhuman in the saddle, riding at breakneck speed for 50 or 100 miles, though they would usually switch horses at stations every 20 miles or so, and sometimes as often as 10 miles. The “stations” were often muddy hovels where the riders would sleep in the barns with the horses. They rode through blizzards and hailstorms and Indian attacks and somehow usually got through.

Jim DeFelice does a good job of bringing their amazing achievements and horsemanship to light. The heyday of the Pony Express was quite short, about 18 months in 1860-61, until telegraph lines, cost, and the beginning of the Civil War caused the freight company that ran the Pony Express to falter and sell out. It’s a fun read, even if DeFelice pales in comparison to someone like Simon Winchester, author of Krakatoa (2003) and many others.  

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Review “Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen”: Either “Knives Out” or “Get Out” 

So the latest Netflix miniseries to try to scare us all is Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen, which should be required viewing for all young couples contemplating marriage—maybe the way that Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace should be required reading for all wannabe dictators eager to stumble into an unwinnable war. 

The plot, as it were, is a bit clunky: Rachel (Camila Morrone) and Nicky (Adam DiMarco) are a cutesy couple about to get married, an opposites-attract kind of story, from a socioeconomic angle: Nicky is a rich kid with a mysterious family and Rachel is a survivor of sorts from an unstable family, a touchy gal (think psychic powers, maybe) whose mother died in childbirth, seemingly from a supernatural incident. (Or it could be bad custard.) There’s a pockmarked-face old guy who asks Rachel, “Are you sure he’s the one?”—referring to Nicky, her groom-to-be—who seems straight out of David Lynch’s quirky, surreal 1990s series Twin Peaks. (He also stabs her in the leg with a fork.) The Richie-Riches are eager to get the wedding planned and pulled off, in a few days time. Viewers will no doubt get some Get Out (2017) vibes. The family seems to have a fate in mind for Rachel, which will be “very bad.” 

My favorite character is Portia (played by Gus Birney), Nicky’s pampered sister who seems to drink an inordinate amount of coffee. She rushes around planning the wedding, being mean and catty as if that’s her natural state of being. At times the series feels like a stretched-out version of Knives Out (2019) or Ready or Not (2019): Young woman gets bad vibes as she’s about to marry into a family of rich weirdoes, who may or may not be planning to sacrifice her at some altar of devil’s cult or perhaps for a kind of DIY immortality. Plus Camila Morrone once dated Leo DiCaprio, just sayin’.

There’s much spookiness: One of the rich brothers has a childhood memory scar from a boogeyman called The Sorry Man, which I can’t help but think would be said by a remorseful Dude from The Big Lebowski, who would plead, “I’m sorry, man,” after dropping a lit roach into your seat cushions and leaving a burn hole. But I’m a sucker for mildly entertaining Netflix mumbo-jumbo. Plus it stars Jennifer Jason Leigh as a spooky dying mother. She looks like a zombie and acts like one too. Which is a waste of talent, as Jennifer Jason Leigh is a force of nature. If you want to see her in a really wild role check out Quentin Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight (2015), where she plays dynamic gang-leader Daisy Domergue.

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Review: “Your Friends and Neighbors” Season Two Begins With a Bad Back and a Huge Splash

So Season One of Your Friends and Neighbors was quite a debut, with Jon Hamm starring as a Wall Street bigwig who gets fired right after getting a divorce, so naturally he decides to become a “cat burglar,” sneaking into his rich-bastard neighbors’ houses to steal high-end watches and other easily fencible items. The inimitable writer John Cheever explored this fantasy plot back in the 1950s with his short story “The Housebreaker of Shady Hill,” but Your Friends and Neighbors is definitely a worthy reboot of sorts.

Season One began with the iconic scene of Jon Hamm (as Andrew Cooper or “Coop”) waking up in a pool of someone else’s blood, on the floor of a mansion, as the mystery to be solved. Coop was charged with murder and at one point seemed headed for a conviction, before some very unlikely evidence was discovered and Olivia Munn (as the sexy widow Samantha Levitt, or “Sam”) confessed to a screwball plot to frame him for murder after her husband’s suicide, all to get $20 million in life insurance money. If that quick-fix of a plot device wasn’t enough, when Coop gets miraculously off the hook for Sam’s ex-husband’s death/murder, an even more unlikely plot twist followed: Coop is amazingly offered his old job back, with a big bonus and perks, only to turn it down in favor of . . . more cat burgling?  

Season Two does not begin with Coop in a puddle of blood, and by the end of Ep 1, does not have a convenient murder mystery to turn it into a Whodunit. But I sense something is looming on the horizon. A new character is introduced: James Marsden plays Owen Ashe, a mysterious “billionaire,” who seems rather chipper, eager, slippery, and suspicious. He and Coop hit it off quickly. By the episode’s end, there’s a party at Ashe’s unlikely Tudor mega-mansion, in which all the party-goers end up jumping into the swimming pool, just for the fun of it, a la the gymnasium-floor scene in Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life. I’d put money on some major mystery being revealed in Episode 2. Ep 1 seemed like a warmup for trouble ahead. All the main characters have returned, including Coop’s son and daughter and ex-wife, Mel, played by Amanda Peet. The actor Hoon Lee plays Barney Choi and I sense he’ll be even more important that in Season One. For one thing, he finds out about Coop’s cat-burgling and “wants in.” It’s all a bit far-fetched but much fun, a satire on the lives of the rich but not necessarily famous.

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Review of “DTF St. Louis” Episode 5: David Harbour Deserves an Emmy

So I’ve made no bones about my enthusiasm for the new HBO show DTF St. Louis, starring Jason Bateman, David Harbour, and Linda Cardellini. It’s my favorite series right now and ranks up there with some of the best, including the incomparable Better Call Saul. At about halfway through the season the plot is cooking. Ostensibly the engine powering the plot is the murder mystery: Who killed Floyd Smernitch? And it’s certainly a good mystery: I won’t give away anything but there’s an obvious culprit . . . who is too obvious. I have my theories: Clark Forrest’s wife, Eimy Forrest (played by Wynn Everett) is suspiciously absent from any discussion in this whodunit. She could be a sneaky suspect. But why I say “ostensibly”: The real charm of the series is the writing/acting. Bateman and Harbour get the most airtime of each episode, and both are doing a knockout job. Bateman plays against type, ditching his comic good-guy persona for something more tortured and nebbishy—a local TV weatherman with a penchant for kinky sex. Harbour, on the other hand, is the center of DTF’s universe, the planet around which all the other moon-characters orbit. He’s oddly likable, sloppy, charming, overweight, funny, bumbling, and dynamic. His status as an American Sign Language expert gives him a spritz of quirkiness and compassion. He’s a hero who feels strongly—you could argue too strongly—for others. He’s the most likable character, and from early on in Episode 1 he’s dead. In Episode 5 (there are many flashbacks) he confides in Clark an anecdote to explain how he got a “crooked dick.” It’s laugh-out-loud funny, and mysterious, too. Watch it.

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The Year Without a Winter Over, Wildfire Season Begins

So it’s hard to convey or describe just how oddly warm this winter has been in the Southwest. It’s as if the cold air that usually lingers through April has drifted away somewhere. At our mountain home in Custer County, Colorado we usually have snow on the ground from Thanksgiving until Easter, which is often much later in April than it is this year. Usually at our home (about 9,000 feet in elevation) snow lingers until the end of April, first of May. This year we have been essentially snow-free for several weeks. Our creek is in the process of drying up, although there’s still hope the highest peaks may get some much needed snowfall through the end of April. Last weekend I drove to Santa Fe, taking the backroads of New Mexico, passing through Taos. There was a wildfire burning just south of Colorado Springs when we left (and still burning when we returned), and near the border of New Mexico, we passed this fire on a lonesome backroad.

Posted in Climate Change, Michael Mann's The Hockey Stick and the Climate Wars, Santa Fe, The West, Weird Weather, Wildfire Season 2026, Year Without a Winter | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

On Pekka Hamalainen’s “Indigenous Continent”: Finnish Historian’s View of Native American History

So I’ve just returned from a week in Santa Fe and a quick side trip to Palo Duro Canyon in north Texas, site of the infamous Battle of Palo Duro Canyon in September 1874. I grew up in the Hill Country of Central Texas, which was Comanche territory until the collapse of Comanche hegemony over the Texas plains that resulted from this battle. Hamalainen’s Indigenous Continent (2023) is an impressive book, long and detailed. 

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At times it suffers from its rhetoric that Native Americans were resourceful and intelligent traders and warriors. I of course don’t argue with that idea, but his insistence seems rather dated, as if he’s arguing against someone claiming Native Americans were simply “savages.” That viewpoint is a bit too old-fashioned to counter, so it seems he harps on it more than necessary. I was also skeptical of a Finnish historian’s take on North American history, and, for the most part, came away convinced. At times he seems a bit fuzzy about North American geography, but that’s understandable. The best aspect of the book is its comprehensive Native-American angle, showing how the many and various tribes interacted with each other and thrived in pre-Columbian North America, until they didn’t. Disease brought to the Americas by Europeans was the greatest cause of population depletion that set the stage for conquest. I’ve read several Comanche histories, including S.C. Gwynne’s best-selling Empire of the Summer Moon (2016).

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He argues that one of the fundamental problems of Comanche history was their warrior culture, which relied on raiding both white settler and Mexican farming communities in northern Mexico, which doomed them to forever conflict with the encroaching Texans during the period of expansion in the 1830s-1880s. Hamalainan tends to rationalize the terror and depredations of the Comanche raids in Texas and Mexico as part of an “economic policy”—a policy based on murder, rape, and kidnapping. That Europeans from 1492 on committed similar atrocities is undeniable. It was a bloody period of history. Both sides were killers, at times, such as depicted in Cormac McCarthy’s epic Western Blood Meridian (1985). We camped a couple nights at Palo Duro Canyon and can see why it was so iconic to the Native tribes: On the flat plains of the Texas Panhandle it’s an oasis of sorts, with dramatic cliffs, creeks and rivers, woods and canyons that allowed Native peoples to thrive in a harsh landscape. 

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The Year Without a Winter Ends: It’s Spring!

So it’s Spring in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The Cottonwoods and Cherry trees are blooming. And Venus is bright in a dusky sky.

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