Wherever there's a fight, so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build -- I'll be there, too. And whenever a poor guy is gettin' $50 to pleasure a bored rich lady with his prodigious lovestick, Ma, I'll be there, too.
-- Tom Joad, The Grapes of Wrath
Well, I can't find that last sentence in John Steinbeck's novel, but perhaps the HBO guys were working from the Larry Flynt translation when they conceived (heh-heh, pun definitely intended) Hung, the Official Sitcom of the New Depression.
The ruined Oklahoma farms have been replaced with code-violating split-levels in the Detroit suburbs; the
steely-eyed bankers with bullying homeowners associations; Tom Joad's Marianite sister with a poetess-turned-pimp; and Joad's dawning socialist conscience with a male prostitute's growing (all puns intended until further notice) priapic pride. But otherwise, Hung is definitely a poor-and-dirty-minded man's Grapes of Wrath. Read my full review in Sunday's Miami Herald.