tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73378994193430057932024-02-18T20:26:50.187-08:00The Ideas SectionIkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-29381658674329528462009-06-29T19:52:00.000-07:002009-06-29T20:16:21.649-07:00Michael Jackson, Friday night, Boston's Back BayThis Friday night, the day after Michael Jackson died, I was waiting in front of Back Bay station for about a half hour. Enough cars passed playing Michael Jackson's music -- I can probably just call him "Michael" for the remainder of the article -- that the survey of his music was uninterrupted. Many Boston radio stations were playing nothing else. At the park in front of the Copley mall, there is a loud and enthusiastic sing-along to to the sound-snippets driving by: <i>Don't Stop Till You Get Enough</i>, <i>The Girl Is Mine</i>, <i>Billie Jean</i>, <i>Beat It,</i> and <i>Wanna Be Startin' Somethin</i>, and <i>Thriller</i>. People are moonwalking and doing that vampire dance.<br /><br />I'm waiting for Wesley Morris, a writer for the Boston Globe who has been at work very late writing <a href="http://www.boston.com/ae/celebrity/articles/2009/06/28/for_blacks_looking_at_jackson_meant_looking_at_selves/">a piece about Michael's relationship to race for the Sunday paper</a>. A lot of writers at the <i>Globe</i> are writing a lot of articles prompted by Michael death. There's a lot to write. As we walk down Dartmouth street, we're talking about his article. How does his transformation reflect his and others attitudes toward race? And some other issues I didnt quite get.<br /><br />From behind us, a young woman, who is white, has overheard part of our conversation and confronts us. "Well, it doesn't matter if he's black or white. That shouldn't come into it." I don't know exactly what she's responding to (because I've also been listening to <i>I Want you Back</i> playing from a passing car) but she's upset. And she looking at us. And approaching. And continuing, "That's all people want to talk about, is plastic surgery, and kids sleepover, and all that. And its just not right because he gave us so much." Her date, it may even be a first date, is plainly embarrassed.<br /><br />I'm struck -- and so is Wesley -- by how very wrong it is to think we are doing anything but celebrating Michael tonight. "It made me really mad how all the news clips are of child molestation case and all that." Wesley is quickly commiserating. "I heard the news channels couldn't get the rights to play music clips. So they keep playing those old child molestation court case clips." "Oh yes, fair use, they can only play 12 seconds of the video," I offer. I need to say something.<br /><br />Her face becomes more increduluous and irritated. Now she's glaring at me. "Are you a lawyer?" A lawyer who is disrespecting Michael Jackson -- is there anything worse. "No," I may be stammering at this point, "we work for ... a media company." "Oh really?!" This is really too much for her. Did we spend all day running child molestation clips? I continue, "the Boston Globe," as in, not-the-tv-news. She softens a bit. "It such a tragedy," I offer. And I mean it.<br /><br />So many of us spent our adult years distancing ourselves from the man who was the soundtrack to our childhood and adolscence. He gave us our MTV after school, our summer vacations, our prom, our times with our lifelong friends, our weddings, our nostalgia, and still most Saturday nights. And we questioned him, we mocked him, we laughed meanly when the New York Post shouted "Wacko-Jacko". All at once, we all somehow know this is our time to sing along stand up for him. Even her date felt the need to step up. "They'll never be another talent like him." She looked up at him, and away from us. I think he'll do alright tonight.<br /><br />I'm feeling -- I think we all are -- the power to forgive, to absolve, to celebrate.<br /><br />Pho Republique was not playing Michael Jackson music. They were playing Bob Marley. Our waiter apologized almost immediately. "We've been playing Michael Jackson music all night, and I just started getting so sad because ... well its so terrible what happened. This seemed like the right thing to play now." Maybe we came in at just the right time, but as I was scanning the menu, it became clear our waiter is a prophet. Bob Marley is explaining:<br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;"><i>Won't you help to sing,</i><br /><i>These songs of freedom,</i><br /><i>Cause all I ever have,</i><br /><i>Redemption songs</i><br /><i>Redemption songs.</i><br /></div><br />In the Back Bay, we've been singing them all night.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-36258946452612301842009-03-04T15:48:00.000-08:002009-03-09T09:33:23.759-07:00Adieu LOLCats. Hello "F*** You, Penguin."<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Jb-R_gVZCCC-4jUasmWb71QYKUh9VELQO-AnCnueF-mOueuGENlrpx9WKDJro3uUCWEIpjEvNN7qoboMaFHc12Ei3zK8k_33F2ZAjv0sJb3Ry3k-aAfaLBZvkhHZv1gbOeEwptzzfrA/s1600-h/Meerkat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Jb-R_gVZCCC-4jUasmWb71QYKUh9VELQO-AnCnueF-mOueuGENlrpx9WKDJro3uUCWEIpjEvNN7qoboMaFHc12Ei3zK8k_33F2ZAjv0sJb3Ry3k-aAfaLBZvkhHZv1gbOeEwptzzfrA/s320/Meerkat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311006500099223618" border="0" /></a>There's a bit less smiling going on these days, and it seems our taste for cuteness has also gone sour.<br /><br />Fluffy and playful, the internet's <a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/02/23/funny-pictures-oooo-shinee/">LOLCats</a> spent the holidays posing for staged photos on the living room floor, mangling toilet paper rolls and the English language. Now copies of the doe-eyed holiday book <span style="font-style: italic;">"<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Can-Has-Cheezburger-LOLcat-Colleckshun/dp/159240409X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1236564889&sr=8-1">I Can Haz Cheeseburger</a>"</span> fills Borders bargain-bin at $1.98 begging you to it home.<br /><br />Stocks are down, and we're taking it out on the kitty. Enter <span style="font-style: italic;">"<a href="http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/">F</a></span><a href="http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/"><span style="text-decoration: line-through; font-style: italic;">uck</span></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/"> You, Penguin</a>"</span>. A site that unleashes accusatory vitriol on animals we used to think were cute.<br /><br /><a href="http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/2009/01/we-fucking-get-it-gazelle.html">Gazelles</a> are "desperate for affection", the endangered <a href="http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-blue-footed-sleaze.html">booby</a> a "blue-footed sleaze", and "overhyped" <a href="http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/2008/12/red-crowned-crane-is-straight-con.html">cranes</a> are "the mortgage-backed securities of the animal world". In general these animals all conspire to use mindless cuteness to annoy and endanger humans "<a href="http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/2009/01/this-bunny-wants-to-ambush-your.html">hop by excruciating hop</a>."<br /><br />The creator of the site, a Boston writer who goes by the name of <span style="font-style: italic;">bza, </span>tells me he is under contract to Random House to produce a <span>"F*** You, Penguin"</span> book, using mostly material from the web site, for publication in Fall 2009. If two points make a line, then <a href="http://www.cuteoverload.com/">Cute Overload</a> makes it a trend. Cute Overload tries to be sick of fluffy kitties, F-U-P succeeds -- and is much funnier.<br /><br />Both sites are becoming hugely popular. As of today, F-U Penguin has 11,700 <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/FU-Penguin/41018372827">fans on Facebook</a>, about 5000 <a href="http://twitter.com/fuckyoupenguin">Twitter followers</a>, and shows strong <a href="http://www.alexa.com/data/details/traffic_details/fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com">page visit growth</a> in Alexa.<br /><br />Look for the book to be a recession best-seller this Christmas.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-51179012561346314862009-02-16T10:03:00.000-08:002009-03-04T10:40:01.614-08:00There will be referencesIt takes blood, machismo, and a bit of a snarl. Then you have a movie catchphrase that men can rally around. The title of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/There_Will_Be_Blood">the 2007 Oscar-winning movie "There Will Be Blood"</a> is turning out to be the "Say hello to my little friend" of this decade.<br /><br />This newish favorite macho-meme assigns a hardcore intensity and cruel severity reminiscent of the ruthless main character, oilman Daniel Plainview, portrayed by Daniel Day-Lewis.<br /><br />Let's take a look at some recent usage just in the <span style="font-style: italic;">New York Times</span>:<br /><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" ><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Straight usage:</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/03/opinion/03dowd.html?scp=10&sq=%22there%20will%20be%22&st=cse">There Will Be Blood</a>" Maureen Dowd on nomination battles between Clinton and Obama (Feb 2008)<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<a href="http://dealbook.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/09/15/there-will-be-blood/?scp=19&sq=%22there%20will%20be%22&st=cse">There Will Be Blood</a>" Steven Davidoff on ominous signs of an impending financial meltdown (Sept 2008)<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<a href="http://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/03/01/video-there-will-be-blood/?scp=25&sq=%22there%20will%20be%22&st=cse">There Will Be Blood</a>" Nicholas Kristoff on the ongoing armed conflict in Sudan (Mar 2008)<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Extended usage:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<a href="http://slapshot.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/04/24/the-morning-skate-there-will-be-blood-and-musical-chairs/?scp=49&sq=%22there%20will%20be%22&st=cse">There Will Be Blood and Musical Chairs</a>" Stu Hackel's NYT hockey blog "Slap Shot"<br /></span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >Turn of phrase:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/27/opinion/27prudhomme.html?scp=8&sq=%22there%20will%20be%22&st=cse">There Will Be Floods</a>" Alex Prud'homme on continuing levee breaches in the New Orleans area.<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/02/books/02Maslin.html">There Will Be Extravagance</a>" Janet Maslin on Bryan Burrough’s book about Texas oil money (Feb 2009)<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">"<a href="http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/01/22/sundance-winner-there-will-be-bagels/?scp=26&sq=%22there%20will%20be%22&st=cse">There Will Be Bagels</a>" Jennifer Lee in the New York Times on the availability of bagels in Utah.</span>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-28511430315517244442009-01-30T13:46:00.000-08:002009-02-19T13:40:13.050-08:00Jews Kill Yet Another Children's Show Host in Gaza?The most popular children's show in Gaza has a bouncy xylophone-driven soundtrack, but bunnies and other fluffy-fun lead-characters are dying more gruesomely and frequently than on the Sopranos.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=8d1_1233232842"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_AMfyMyUmE2TvvSlZTohm5GLtcuw4X0WrQ6nz8tXkMHP3IPaJb13o-ZcR6PjE8EdLE4sO0POWnM3ZnF1KBGTNhriFN5ws7ivyiw0sAsr7kd21qX3i9I-PkmGQ5gsX-3sDxYfS7BGlgs/s400/assud_deathbed.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297209410035061986" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The latest casualty is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Assud</span> the Bunny, a six-foot-tall smiling pink rabbit with big ears and a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">dancy</span> gait who wants to "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9V1Za8JkKY">finish off the Jews and eat them</a>". After a year of teaching numbers, the alphabet, and a bit of debatable Middle East history, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Assud</span> the Bunny threw himself in front of an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Israeli</span> missile in his final episode yesterday. On his deathbed he invited a little girl in a headscarf to "remember him as a martyr."<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Assud</span> the Bunny is no stranger to tragedy. He took over as host of "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomorrow%27s_Pioneers">Tomorrow's Pioneers</a>" from his cousin, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Nahoul</span> the Bee, who was martyred in February 2008 by starving himself to death in front of millions of adoring viewers and his improbably human on-screen family. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ExZVimjST8&NR=1"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemlwhystuvwnnK6aAACK8cSj4-W8-T-Owe3og0yJHbntF6KhC6Bx_vj9aIh967bTzoc4lRnAI1hWAnMBse6z3PCqnL9lav2jrMrQoDXY9QlWfTatuwqPBcVl0VsBQd_DSv8Rew9CsLoA/s400/nahoul_swings.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297212205048689698" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Nahoul</span> the Bee hosted the show for seven months, teaching children, among other things, how to annoy cats by swinging them around by the tail and letting go, and how to rile lions in the Gaza zoo by pelting them with stones.<br /><br />The first host of the show was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Farfour</span> the Mouse, who encouraged children to drink milk and listen to their parents. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Farfour</span> also led youngsters on the show in songs about the AK-47 and led in an accompanying dance that included shouldering and firing motions with imaginary<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrieBhaGgHM"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTtc6Z7xOIqW9RBFuc2uI3EXGXATk5z8PhY1HQ0nRFM9g4CfM9OoFq_4k6Cn1zpn7j681I-FECQ8bFtXcpFO3azPhiLLLfQymbgOP28ClNOrxBWDGpHddAz7VhvX17EKPSpI7t9ju45c/s400/farfour_murdered.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297218796168575378" border="0" /></a> rifles.<br /><br />In his final episode (June 2007), <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Farfour</span> the Mouse was quite graphically punched/stabbed by actors playing Israeli officials. A young teenage girl appears afterwards and gives a martyr's eulogy that is part teen-fan and part peer-encouragement.<br /><br />But its not all fun and games at Gaza <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">children's</span> television. <br /><br />After "Tommorrow's Pioneers," a stark panel discussion is on. The "panel" is of children ages 9 to 13, and the show is hosted by a calm and smiling adult questioner. He asks questions of the children:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Host:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>"Do you think its natural to ... blow your self up?"<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Sabrine</span> (age 17, by phone):</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>"Yes! It's our right!"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Host:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>"Martyrdom. Do you think it's a beautiful thing?"<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Walla (age 11, at table):</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>"Yes it's a beautiful thing. Who wouldn't yearn for paradise?"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Host:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>"Would you agree with that?"<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Yussra</span> (age 11, at table):</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span>"Palestinian youth are not like other youth ... they choose martyrdom."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dPb1bF-s4M&feature=related"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEighFWBB8bKEiFdiTQuW08OCrJAlFeSPcOz2rSS5HxCDvndWgDoxKFfK_rNk2vK319wPmk4SE9hpovQUBK6PdXSUHhyLwtPoUHxACVqnGYP1wMc-NuEVKqj6jG01uasgCpUy421pg6GTv4/s400/11_martyr.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297303861166363154" border="0" /></a><br />The children respond in a uniformly excited smiling manner, eager to please the questioner.<br /><br />Even Fatah (the Palestinian party that control the West Bank of Palestine) has condemned these programs -- especially the latter talk show (if parroting dogma can be called talking) that is so obviously and explicitly designed to cause children to believe life is simply an opportunity for a useful death.<br /><br />Useful to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Hamas,</span> that is.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-91436428113347397782009-01-14T11:37:00.000-08:002009-01-15T09:24:31.946-08:00Québec's Algonquin-language rapper, Samian<a href="http://www.samian.ca/">Samian</a> is a popular (if you are in Québec) <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Algonquin">Algonquin</a>-language rapper, who blends the themes of "first nations" (indiginous peoples) issues into his music. <br /><br />The music is great, his message is important and unique. His music videos have often been, well, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvlYBsaZKiI">terrible</a>. Finally, a very good video worthy of his music and message.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.tagtele.com/v/23849"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.tagtele.com/v/23849" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">link: <a href="http://www.voir.ca/publishing/article.aspx?article=54963&section=6">Samian's bio from Voir Québec</a> (French)</span>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-91889865074949869002009-01-13T11:35:00.000-08:002009-01-13T12:30:49.168-08:00Is Crayonphysics the new Electroplankton?Is this thing even a game? <br /><br />Goal-less and experiential like the Japanese Nintendo DS hit <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electroplankton">Electroplanton</a>, the new PC game "<a href="http://www.crayonphysics.com/">Crayonphysics</a>" is amazingly engaging, brilliant, and simple game/experience/art.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="321"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1849263&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1849263&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="321"></embed></object>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-63755870516908037632008-12-25T20:14:00.000-08:002009-01-04T20:35:27.023-08:00Rosettes, other cookies, and the Italian-American Christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFXbAjMb3mMIu9hnSQS15WIrGRlFM44cElT2nLxXClYGTL1On2ABQlUDVkNQV3NlfViWz7T6UNFMbHPInjrZ3qr75XgGKNMtVHMw3O9eqpYiz2bhly9_CwsfIt38iXI2QhYMQOfBVgUA/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFXbAjMb3mMIu9hnSQS15WIrGRlFM44cElT2nLxXClYGTL1On2ABQlUDVkNQV3NlfViWz7T6UNFMbHPInjrZ3qr75XgGKNMtVHMw3O9eqpYiz2bhly9_CwsfIt38iXI2QhYMQOfBVgUA/s320/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284276281909083762" border="0" /></a>Each year, for Christmas, my mother makes rosettes. Rosettes have only 5 ingredients, yet they are nearly impossible to make. The recipe (if there were a standard one) is different for each particular oven. Timing when combining and mixing the ingredients is so critical that a single minute in either direction before cooking can result in collapsed, inedible discs after cooking.<br /><br />Even if you manage them to bake the rosettes correctly (congratulations), frosting the cookies is another gauntlet. Frost too early, and the hot cookie will ruinously liquify the frosting. Frost too late, and the cold, hardened frosting will rip the cookie apart as you spread. About 30 seconds separates these two states, so make sure to frost each cookie as it comes out of the oven individually. What fun!<br /><br />Additionally, the process often fails, partially or completely, for no discernible reason. Witness my 10-year-old niece (the assistant cook) crying over a suddenly and inexplicably gluified mass that cannot be extracted from the mixing bowl.<br /><br />In short, rosettes are the perfect holiday cookie.<br /><br />Growing up in our small Italian-immigrant community, I had always believed the traditional set of holiday cookies (wand, pizzelle, dischi, rosettes, taralle ...) were the pinnacle of taste and artistry in Italian baking. It seemed that, as such, these marvels of taste-as-pleasure should be enjoyed at most once a year (imagine you are Catholic and this might make sense).<br /><br />Now I know the truth. The rosettes, for example, are good but are simply one cookie-type. There are certainly many easier-to-make, better-tasting, and festive Italian cookies that come out wonderfully for the first-time maker. Why make rosettes, wand, dischi, and the other half-dozen Italian-American Christmas traditionals?<br /><br />Making rosettes is a yearly trial for even the most experienced cook. It took my mother (a rosette expert) two discarded batches this Christmas to produce an acceptable third batch of rosettes. The first was destroyed by the Northeastern ice storm that cut her electricity in mid-bake. A few days later, the second batch was flattened by a forced substitution of butter for margarine due to closed roads between her and the supermarket. (butter can collapse the rosettes)<br /><br />Ok. Why even try? Isn't there a toll house recipe somewhere on the Food Network web site?<br /><br />Each Italian woman in my family (or naturalized-Italian wife) has a specific cookie she makes every year. In most cases the same cookie her mother (or mother-in-law) made. The arcane subtlety of preparation that results in an acceptable cookie is passed down from mother to daughter through years of pre-adolescent cookie-bonding in the kitchen.<br /><br />The tradition is the desired result, the cookie is a side-effect.<br /><br />With this in mind, I give you a full year to try to master the rosette. My mother's recipe is below, with her quite valuable but certainly incomplete advice unedited in parentheses.<br /><br />Ironically, the most colossal failures provide the best memories. Who can forget the 2001 rosettes when she accidentally added salt instead of sugar. Miraculously the right shape, a few rosettes were grabbed by 6-year-old Sarah before anyone else could taste them. Every year, we do an impressions of little Sarah's shocked face: "Aaack! They don't taste right!"<br /><br />Brave readers, let us know how <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> do.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Rosettes</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> 3 eggs, beaten</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> 1/2 cup sugar</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> 1/2 tbsp vanilla (some people use anise)</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> 2 cups flour</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> 1 1/2 tbsp baking powder</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> 1/2 cup (1 stick) margarine (don't use butter)</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> mix to medium softness</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> shape into balls (use a spoon and flour your hands)</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> place on a greased sheet pan</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> bake at 375 degrees for 8-10 minutes</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> </span><br /><u style="font-family: courier new;">frosting</u><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"> mix confectioners sugar and milk. keep a fairly stiff consistency. dip or spread (and add sprinkles immediately or frosting will harden).</span>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-5118234791449077372008-11-30T20:31:00.000-08:002008-11-30T20:57:01.148-08:00Too fat, too white, too much luggage.Since the election of Barak Obama, a new dividing point in the ever-shortening "eras" we have in our lifetime has been placed. We now have "pre-Obama" and "post-Obama" social eras. The last era-marker , of course, was 9/11. The world at that moment became divided into "pre-9/11" and "post-9/11" eras.<br /><br />Yet some people are remarkably immune to changing eras or "change" or any kind (Obaman or otherwise).<br /><br />I flew to Philadelphia for the Thanksgiving holiday last week. The airport is a marvelous place to see living history. The fat, white, suit-clad, upper-management men, moving through the airport with a multitude of large suitcases in wheeled tow (somewhat like a planetoid moving through space with orbiting satellites) hearkens back to our pre-9/11 period.<br /><br />Once they were a sign of prestige: the Pierre Cardin suitcases, the ballooning 3-piece suit, the bloated rosy face, the emaciated wife, the financial industry position, the third home. In this era, they are grossly tacky.<br /><br />But not everyone can <span style="font-style: italic;">change,</span><span> s</span>o they remain, and they continue through the airport, too fat, too white, and with far too much baggage.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-86011771299747157672008-11-29T14:55:00.000-08:002008-11-30T21:00:44.196-08:00Shooting Fish in a BarrelIn the ongoing saga of Somali piracy in the Gulf of Aden: the pirates have received over $30 million (US) in ransoms this year, oil tankers, arms shipments, and container ships have all been held hostage. And the ongoing piracy threatens to create video game shortages this Christmas.<br /><br />An open question: The role of Yemen in the crisis. <a href="http://urlixa.com/?cpesu">A map created today by the UN from its satellite surveillance of Saudi pirates</a> opens the question of Yemen's complicity.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://urlixa.com/?cpesu"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 702px;" src="http://bureaufive.com/blog_support/yemen.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274669642070223970" border="0" /></a>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-85737926636139610402008-11-07T09:36:00.000-08:002008-11-21T09:07:54.831-08:00Open your Golden GateIt is about 8am on a bright Tuesday morning, April 18th, 2006, and I am on my way to work on San Francisco's F line streetcar, a restored wooden-bodied affair that originally served Milan in the 1930s. The train has stopped at 5th and Market, and the conductor has turned off the power and gotten out of his seat. When conductors in San Francisco do this, especially on one of the beautifully-restored but mechanically-problematic streetcars, it means a long delay -- riders will mutter annoyances and file out the doors. On this car the exits are of course marked with<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>only the original<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span>signs</span><span style="font-style: italic;">: "Uscita"</span>.<br /><br />But today everyone remains seated, and silent. That's because today is April 18th. The driver is talking to us. "Ladies and Gentlemen, one hundred years ago today, the Great Earthquake reduced Market Street to rubble, and fire destroyed most of the City of San Francisco." He paused for a moment. "Here, at 5th and Market, many people died by fire at the Windsor Hotel."<br /><br />At the back of the train, a drag queen, who I only now noticed, stood up and began to sing:<br /><blockquote style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It only takes a tiny corner of<br />This great big world to make the place we love ...<br /></span></blockquote>Quicker than you would think, the rest of the streetcar, mostly in business clothes, seated, shyly smiling to one another, joins in. Everyone knows the words:<br /><blockquote style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">My home upon the hill, I find I love you still,<br />I've been away, but now I'm back to tell you,<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">San Francisco, open your Golden Gate<br />You'll let nobody wait outside your door<br />San Francisco, here is your wanderin' one<br />Saying I'll wander no more.<br /><br />Other places only make me love you best<br />Tell me you're the one in all the golden west<br />San Francisco, I'm coming home again<br />Never to roam again...<br /><br />San Francisco, right when I arrive<br />I really come alive...<br />And you will laugh to see me,<br />Perpendicular, hanging on a cable car<br /><br />San Francisco, let me beat my feet<br />Up and down Market Street<br />I'm gonna climb Nob Hill, just to watch it get dark<br />From The Top of the Mark<br /><br />There's Brooklyn Bridge, London Bridge,<br />And the Bridge of San Louis Rey<br />But the only bridge, that's a real gone bridge,<br />Is the bridge accross the bay<br /><br />San Francisco, I'm coming home again,<br />Never to roam again, by gum<br />San Francisco, I don't mean Frisco<br />San Francisco, here I come! </span> </blockquote>By the end of the song, a full chorus.<br />And the streetcar is on its way.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://bureaufive.com/blog_support/San_Francisco.mp3">Jeanette MacDonald sings "San Francisco"</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTXiKOIUFWo&feature=related">Fans sing "San Francisco" at the 1989 World Series</a></span><br /><br /></div>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-14365469036236027292008-11-05T07:31:00.000-08:002008-11-05T08:04:24.998-08:00Grandma Hussein (Barak's other Grandmother) Out of House Arrest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8b1rCzKFeIno52KFht6aCPIoIuzkVHVfzlHdRuyz0Ww61u4mTiZnwFY2wrlcmCesCofDN5NUYix_Pos2X2_Pui6iAIPc2JedmIv1Eg14GkLzbZE8uWfBh0tSUbMXRF_bbjXy-84AjXRk/s1600-h/sarah_hussein.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8b1rCzKFeIno52KFht6aCPIoIuzkVHVfzlHdRuyz0Ww61u4mTiZnwFY2wrlcmCesCofDN5NUYix_Pos2X2_Pui6iAIPc2JedmIv1Eg14GkLzbZE8uWfBh0tSUbMXRF_bbjXy-84AjXRk/s320/sarah_hussein.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265201542775623938" border="0" /></a>Barak Obama placed his <a href="http://www.eastandard.net/InsidePage.php?id=1143998610&cid=4&">other grandmother in an Aung-San-Suu-Kyi-style home-arrest</a> while the election was going on: "Family members and security officials barred the Media from accessing her." I guess it does not help that her name is Sarah Hussein. She gets out today.<br /><br />Obama's use of his white maternal grandma as an example of an ignorant racist from another era prompted some pundits to say she has been "<a href="http://gatewaypundit.blogspot.com/2008/03/barack-throws-his-ailing-grandmother.html">thrown under the bus</a>" to score political points. Snarky comments that she recently "died from injuries from being run over by a bus" are inevitable.<br /><br />Nearby <a href="http://www.eastandard.net/InsidePage.php?id=1143998612&cid=4&">cousins in Kenya also were ordered to be silent</a>: "We were instructed not to talk to the media or anybody about the Senator"<br /><br />And the <a href="http://sify.com/news/fullstory.php?id=14790656">Kenyan government forbade coverage of the family's election night gathering</a>.<br /><br />Hopefully the US press will now <a href="http://news.google.com/news?oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&client=firefox-a&tab=wn&hl=en&ie=UTF-8&ncl=1266672177">cover what is clearly a newsworthy story</a>: the first US President to have immediate family in another country, and in such a different culture. Especially since Obama knows his family there, visits them, and writes about how important his Kenyan roots are to him.<br /><br />Not covering Kenya is as clear an example of the media's self-censorship we've seen since the run-up to the Iraq War.<br /><br />I wholeheartedly support Obama's presidency. The political need to manage decent and honorable, but culturally-inconvenient family members during an election may be an unpleasant but necessary evil. In the future, I would like to see a better example from him of the kind of respect we should show for our elders and family members.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-42520373385286151282008-05-20T20:28:00.000-07:002009-01-31T17:56:20.718-08:00All Your Cream Puff Are Belong To Us<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZofA1-6o-ouRx09RwaScRgMPBO1mTnYgC_DZ131og9E9dVhtaoHreY19sDpCNdaVuw7i7F7ihFa6oaPb-vt_quQ-nMZ5Q_JGuvBgNAV0aMlqI0TyrklrCS2DM5x7jTpaSr4ofrAHfIH8/s1600-h/beard+papa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZofA1-6o-ouRx09RwaScRgMPBO1mTnYgC_DZ131og9E9dVhtaoHreY19sDpCNdaVuw7i7F7ihFa6oaPb-vt_quQ-nMZ5Q_JGuvBgNAV0aMlqI0TyrklrCS2DM5x7jTpaSr4ofrAHfIH8/s320/beard+papa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066875778831298066" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Konichiwa</span>, Beard Papa</span><br /><br />Why are 28 to 35 year old urban hipsters lapping up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">faux</span>-French cream puffs and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">virally</span> pass-along marketing this product/experience? Um ... unknown. The charmingly clumsy marketing of "Beard Papa" and his cream puffs by Japanese multi-restaurant <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">franchiser</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Muginoho</span></span> may be to blame.<br /><br />"Beard Papa" is a transliteration of the French <span style="font-style: italic;">"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">barbe</span> à papa"</span>, meaning "cotton candy". I guess in some tangential way it does suggest the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">artificially</span> cloying and unrelenting sweetness <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Muginoho</span></span> delivers in both the cream puff and the store environment. And <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_your_base_are_belong_to_us">everyone loves a clumsy Japanese translation</a>. No, they do not serve cotton candy, only cream puffs and a few precious pastries that look like they are designed for Hello Kitty's consumption. The company has about 250 stores in Asia, and about 30 now in the US -- with many more planned here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHXkkI7TDj0NUFaZstEcyiP5nxYzzxnG9XpqFt7VrNvgLP17DzsF9LKZYXy_l0imoCXHEYp2NRIqww6VGcQzmD0wp4HbWinjVSMpAW0NQxK3sYpnFLQC8_1HRFwetTBQDuay7fNnbSww/s1600-h/bp_nyc.jpg" title="Rationing at BP Manhattan"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHXkkI7TDj0NUFaZstEcyiP5nxYzzxnG9XpqFt7VrNvgLP17DzsF9LKZYXy_l0imoCXHEYp2NRIqww6VGcQzmD0wp4HbWinjVSMpAW0NQxK3sYpnFLQC8_1HRFwetTBQDuay7fNnbSww/s200/bp_nyc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066875976399793698" border="0" /></a>The Beard Papa web site offers an apocryphal (and creepy) animated origin of the Beard Papa Cream Puff, involving cute cartoon children entranced by the beard of a elderly baker named Beard Papa. <span style="font-style: italic;">"The cream [puff] is just a fluffy and lovable as my beard!"</span> insinuates Beard Papa, as the gathered cute children express what I assume is intended as delight -- though their expressions look more demonic than delighted. You can <a href="http://www.muginohousa.com/main.php?nav=the_beard_papas_story">judge for yourself</a>.<br /><br />So how are the cream puff at Beard Papa? Good, but very ordinary. Most local bakeries will make as good or better. But local bakeries don't always have cream puffs.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-73391440740119274322008-05-10T20:01:00.000-07:002008-11-13T06:29:04.868-08:00Google Trends Screensaver for Mac OSXEvery hour Google Labs determines the fastest rising search terms entered in the United States. The result is a fascinating snapshot of the national zeitgeist.<br /><br />Google makes this data available on its Google Labs site. I thought it would make an interesting screensaver, so I have created a process on the BureauFive server that fetches the top search trends every hour and publishes a feed that is usable by the "RSS Visualizer" screensaver that ships with Macintosh OS X.<br /><br />You can run this screensaver on your Mac by entering the RSS feed address below in your RSS Visualizer's "Feed URL" box.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" > http://bureaufive.com/b5/trends/google_trends.rss</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Be sure to remove leading and trailing spaces when you copy-paste this URL in the <span style="font-style: italic;">"Feed URL"</span> box (see below).</span><br /><br />Then just click "Done".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_h9t73g120E8pgDRIdl64vRpEfCmLWp9L_YTFgqq-Ulh7BRPVn7qwemcf_pdU_rorppq031PiWFJ2AI0HE3z9fzSIXLErLsJxmAo1t5Y_5n5EzbKPcW6up5YsQ-RD8wxJAJ6e0XZCzc/s1600-h/System+Preferences.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_h9t73g120E8pgDRIdl64vRpEfCmLWp9L_YTFgqq-Ulh7BRPVn7qwemcf_pdU_rorppq031PiWFJ2AI0HE3z9fzSIXLErLsJxmAo1t5Y_5n5EzbKPcW6up5YsQ-RD8wxJAJ6e0XZCzc/s400/System+Preferences.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198952783260980034" border="0" /></a>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-89691988225465936232008-02-01T17:03:00.000-08:002009-01-31T17:55:58.843-08:00Boston "Public"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonzjOXvw3d42YobF6rkHzIBH4GeKisa0s43XFWFhRYRfyLtmwLph2LRkoDJbD6ZrCZzDHfw2ZCH43rtEuzFGahMKSI0YNkvsh9FRODGr2MX8wD-RTTfyyWCFNBj1tq8EwSYKU-MwBpTg/s1600-h/rb_decal.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgonzjOXvw3d42YobF6rkHzIBH4GeKisa0s43XFWFhRYRfyLtmwLph2LRkoDJbD6ZrCZzDHfw2ZCH43rtEuzFGahMKSI0YNkvsh9FRODGr2MX8wD-RTTfyyWCFNBj1tq8EwSYKU-MwBpTg/s400/rb_decal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128028295318918866" border="0" /></a>The new, purportedly Asian-fusion restaurant “Boston Public” throws us into an environment that has been drained of all color, and most of the light, apparently as an intended contrast to its attempts at bold flavor and presentation. Unfortunately, the drab and soporific interior draws all too clear and tragic a parallel to the food served.<br /><br />Perhaps the Eastern European owners are attempting a nostalgic <span style="font-style: italic;">plaisanterie</span> with the grey oppressive environment. But, despite the strained and worried smiles tenuously clinging to the lips of the well-intentioned staff, no element of the evening afforded the slightest pleasure or comfort.<br /><br />We hope that these efforts are simply the result of amateur and untried menu design, rather than an attempt to “fuse” the taste of Eastern Europe with the grey and solemn days of Asia during World War I, when the Chinese subsisted on large piles of grey, pickled vegetable matter as an appetizer, followed by flavorless meat, nearly raw for want of cooking fuel.<br /><br />I ordered the eggplant with mint leaves as an appetizer. An intriguing combination on paper, I imagined a warm, fragrant, braised aubergine anointed with shredded fresh mint. Instead, what arrived was a shock of cold grey mechanically-shredded canned pickled “eggplant”, injected with a toothpaste-like mint overlay that did little to conceal the chemical taste of this would-be war ration. The enormous mass served, if ingested <span style="font-style: italic;">in toto</span>, would no doubt cause cause severe gastrointestinal distress. As my father would say, a "belly bomb".<br /><br />Inexplicably, similarly pickled vegetable preservations invaded every dish we were served. Perfectly innocent wild salmon, Kobe beef, and free-range chicken could not run from the assault of unwanted pickled preserves, randomly bitter and unpleasant spices, and dry soured goat cheese that overpowered each dish, repulsing the diner, as its undercooked blood ran down the furrows of the plate.<br /><br />Your correspondent will not be able to report on dessert, as were were forced to make a retreat from “Boston Public” shortly after the main course. Even so, the heavy toll of nearly $400 for four was a terrible and unwarranted cost to pay for such an atrocity.<br /><br />Zero stars.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-67280332922216769882008-01-20T23:13:00.000-08:002008-11-13T06:29:05.330-08:00"Máncora" premiere at Sundance '08<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodKu_K-M4SpF_6oEsYb5Z6FJmO-OBXg7IaCB4-o0fpBb-NJZyJjdNku7x1iPdQ4OUmC8CinPJH1vnrNDvBSyNBORz-KvyJhOria6GeM6nYmvx-YDI6VY_62jnddO6zLWtvD5Rf19E23Y/s1600-h/mancora1.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157852354435180002" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhodKu_K-M4SpF_6oEsYb5Z6FJmO-OBXg7IaCB4-o0fpBb-NJZyJjdNku7x1iPdQ4OUmC8CinPJH1vnrNDvBSyNBORz-KvyJhOria6GeM6nYmvx-YDI6VY_62jnddO6zLWtvD5Rf19E23Y/s400/mancora1.png" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">For months, bloggers have been building <a href="http://www.google.com/advanced_search?q=M%C3%A0ncora+Montreuil&hl=en&lr=lang_es&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&hs=HIW&as_qdr=all">expectations</a> for tonight's world premiere of </span></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >Ricardo de Montreuil's</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> new feature film <span style="font-style: italic;">Máncora</span> at the Sundance Film Festival. The film depicts the tribulations of a set of gorgeous young actors involved in a variety of parties and sexual</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> combinations. While this did appear to draw some sympathetic excitement out of young partiers in the audience, it left those looking for any literary or artistic merit</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> rather unimpressed.<br /><br />The film opens with Santiago, an extremely good-looking and unaccomplished 21-year old who is too busy partying and having bathroom-stall sex to answer the phone when his father calls to let him know he is about to commit suicide. The father leaves a message -- and jumps off a bridge.</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlLU03XY9zD3hBFX09C7zhVO__UNwItEA3FtMraEym1Ocstq7M8ZMb4xVBB2ZH3AqZq-ybW9OPM7PHK8c0S4LtrhPXQE9S3nVYFY-KcAdOyAcnrHVH6YNARCHmTqO8UqDBGHNC59bojo/s1600-h/mancora2.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157852573478512114" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlLU03XY9zD3hBFX09C7zhVO__UNwItEA3FtMraEym1Ocstq7M8ZMb4xVBB2ZH3AqZq-ybW9OPM7PHK8c0S4LtrhPXQE9S3nVYFY-KcAdOyAcnrHVH6YNARCHmTqO8UqDBGHNC59bojo/s400/mancora2.png" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Santiago fin</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">ally gets the</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> news and is very </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">distraught. He mopes arou</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">nd</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> his a</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">partment half-clothed and refuses to answer the phone until his "sister," Ximena, calls from New York. In a particularly clumsy bit of exposition she drones into the answering machine: <span style="font-style: italic;">"I know that I am your sister by the marriage of our parents only, and we have not seen each other for six years, but I want to see you. I am married now, and I am coming to Lima on Thursday with my husband ..."</span><br /><br />Mercifully, Santiago is moved to pick up the phone at this point, and before you know it the gorgeous <span style="font-style: italic;">by-law-only</span> sister, </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Ximena, and her extremely sexy husband, Iñigo, are in the apartment all talking about who will sleep where.<br /><br />The three agree to go on a road trip Santiago has planned to Máncora, a surfing town in the warm north of Peru. What follows is a litany of parties and increasing alcohol and drug use that facilitates a series of events that seems designed to substitute blood and sex for plot and substance.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />At the first all-nighter, Santiago gets in a party-stopping fight then has sex with his "sister," </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Ximena</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">. The next day, </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Ximena's sexy husband, </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Iñigo, </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">comes back full of accusatory innuendo (</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Iñigo</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> inexplicably ran off in the middle of the road trip, of course leaving the other two alone to have sex). Santiago is then drawn into harder drugs and kinkier sex with two hot blond debutantes. The party+sex scenes get extremely long and seem to be a collection of loud music videos that are separate from the almost-nonexistent movie. Oh, and we also get to see sexy-husband </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Iñigo have sex with a Mexican hottie.<br /><br />Yes, Ximena pouts, and Santiago mopes, and </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Iñigo acts crazy -- </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">but the characters are rolling-paper thin and we don't care about them.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">An hour into the movie, most of the audience is shuffling and giving rolling-eye looks to their confidants. Some of the major-newspaper film critics (we won't name names here) have actually walked out. </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />It is possible there are goals of the film that are lost on a non-Peruvians. After decades of totalitarian repression, the freedom of the film's characters to lead dissolute lives in a post-Fujimori era might paint a more compelling tableau to audiences there. But here in Park City, Utah, there is no escaping the director's self-indulgence, which rivals that of his characters.<br /><br />At the end of the showing, there was enthusiastic applause from small groups of the audience who look a lot like the characters in the movie: young well-off party kids. Most of the rest of the audience makes a B-line for the exit. </span></span><br /><p><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span></span></p>Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-21788716393440309372007-11-01T17:04:00.001-07:002008-11-13T06:29:05.519-08:00Vanity Fair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-eJsA1cGK5jcB8uut1RgnNQMkccvNsSaPnArDRrQhzhHlGaIOXtCytb7DmIKRAtbt1o-x-x2WX_-9C0ykhUvumIJoFwHVy1p4OaCcuGQs39y8diaf-vCZlXDGPKx_NRFvTLnkXCoB2o/s1600-h/PreviewScreenSnapz001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-eJsA1cGK5jcB8uut1RgnNQMkccvNsSaPnArDRrQhzhHlGaIOXtCytb7DmIKRAtbt1o-x-x2WX_-9C0ykhUvumIJoFwHVy1p4OaCcuGQs39y8diaf-vCZlXDGPKx_NRFvTLnkXCoB2o/s320/PreviewScreenSnapz001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128030279593809650" border="0" /></a>This month's Vanity Fair magazine, like every month I guess, presents itself to me as the thoughtful and moral intellectual -- busy uncovering wrongs and probing, detailing, evincing what's right and important.<br /><br />Christopher Hitchens travels to spend time with a family who lost a son in Iraq. The 20-year-old went to Iraq because he read Hitchen's writing defending America's role in the war.<br /><br />David Rose exposes corruption the and grinding exploitation of third-world workers by a Halliburton/KBR in wrenching detail. And we read a detailed analysis of the piteous waste of resources used on an under-construction mega-Embassy in Iraq, accompanied by the complex plan for embassy constructions around the world.<br /><br />What I find most shocking in this month's Vanity Fair, yes like every month, is that more than half pages in the magazine are devoted to startlingly incongruous full-page advertisements for (1) highest-end fashion clothing, (2) rarified luxury-goods, and (3) very expensive jewelry. All -- as in 100% -- of the 154 full-page ads in Vanity Fair fall in one of these three categories. Wrist-watches costing over $3000 are the most advertised single item, occupying 17 different full pages ads.<br /><br />One of the fine, probing, analytical political writers of Vanity Fair may want to spend some of his or her luxury-ad fueled time discussing what this means -- because I certainly don't know.<br /><br />Is an understanding of the latest deceptions of the Iraq War now a fashion brandished at cocktail parties by the rich like a Mont Blanc pen? Is anyone of intelligence now singularly focused on purchasing very expensive glittering luxury goods? Is an insightful left-leaning opinion something to be acquired and possessed? Or is a fashion magazine now the only source left to us for in-depth news?<br /><br />If you have any idea, let me know in the comment section below.Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7337899419343005793.post-78138755746697579612007-05-18T17:24:00.000-07:002008-11-13T06:29:06.517-08:00Kettle Chips "Roasted Red Pepper with Goat Cheese" flavor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ8lvs8xR2fJ-II5jhAcRTd1Xe1trVMG9u_wTtvBUDigvZtAIeSwLQbzZzEEzKqUxc2UOzW700g3xZKIw-EM_7cQwS8Jgco3u1d2t6ZFbjOmAeGOGT9BmO6DtnJiISx1YeX8lUXbUH-4/s1600-h/28_jan_01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ8lvs8xR2fJ-II5jhAcRTd1Xe1trVMG9u_wTtvBUDigvZtAIeSwLQbzZzEEzKqUxc2UOzW700g3xZKIw-EM_7cQwS8Jgco3u1d2t6ZFbjOmAeGOGT9BmO6DtnJiISx1YeX8lUXbUH-4/s320/28_jan_01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025274136220766386" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Highbrow or just cheesy?</span><br /><br />If there are still lingering questions about the forced-gentrification of the American palate by the Food Network and other culprits, Kettle Chips is not in doubt.<br /><br />Kettle chips has introduced perhaps its most <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pretentious</span> flavor, "roasted red pepper with goat cheese" <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGbYlnV7QvlwllPVgb5Y6xN6ufO-OFgRMGQPrJno9yLFBCksBHTCUOlkC8ZqmdPIeMU2VvGhoiqLp6MoJnPbwWtWqNsVg221y7ZAog08KfiWPRxCILqz5KbW9tmwSwQgRD-iCVUa_TK5Y/s1600-h/28_jan_03.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGbYlnV7QvlwllPVgb5Y6xN6ufO-OFgRMGQPrJno9yLFBCksBHTCUOlkC8ZqmdPIeMU2VvGhoiqLp6MoJnPbwWtWqNsVg221y7ZAog08KfiWPRxCILqz5KbW9tmwSwQgRD-iCVUa_TK5Y/s320/28_jan_03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025275295861936354" border="0" /></a>(all in small letters, like the e.e. <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">cummings</span></span> poem potential buyers may have been asked to read in 9<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> grade <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">english</span>).<br /><br />Kettle Foods invites you to discriminate this <span style="font-style: italic;">goat cheese</span> from its "<span style="font-size:85%;">TUSCAN THREE </span><span style="font-size:85%;"> CHEESE</span>" (in all capital letters, probably because they were forced to capitalize "Tuscan") and its "<span style="font-size:85%;">NEW YORK CHEDDAR WITH HERBS</span>" (all caps here too). Without the added <span style="font-size:85%;">HERBS</span> New York Cheddar might seem like the unsophisticated American cousin of the other two flavors.<br /><br />The fact of the matter is they all taste pretty good. And they all taste essentially <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLlaxgNoBLavCLnbhFhy2XU-b5ZjXp-JnX8w0AdgQo1ALuFfq2f68ZfoEUeHaAr_JZq8MIBHj4lfoGMSC4ubBPblARZthgJ3uZwqStKpZGsydy47Tr-mGoehFQVUsQLd5L_Ayr5SDFQ0/s1600-h/28_jan_02.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaLlaxgNoBLavCLnbhFhy2XU-b5ZjXp-JnX8w0AdgQo1ALuFfq2f68ZfoEUeHaAr_JZq8MIBHj4lfoGMSC4ubBPblARZthgJ3uZwqStKpZGsydy47Tr-mGoehFQVUsQLd5L_Ayr5SDFQ0/s320/28_jan_02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025274325199327426" border="0" /></a>the same.<br /><br />The flavorings for all three are pretty much identical: cheese solids and "natural" flavorings (micro-amounts of <span style="font-size:85%;">HERBS</span> and/or roasted red pepper). The flavor that tastes best to a given buyer is probably more strongly correlated to the buyer's self-identity than the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">negligible</span>/arguable difference between these three "flavors".Ikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03691105660864423690noreply@blogger.com0