Thursday evening roundup

L'Oignon on Hummer drivers.

DC loses $100k a month on a parking garage that goes largely unused, because you have to be a moron to drive in the city, while homeless shelters close and scale back services.

As Stephen Colbert talks about how babies have the social skills to figure out how and when to help someone--by figuring out what they actually want--I wonder how my roommate never developed that skill.

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Something to be said for experience

Or at least thought. Rather than universal expertise.

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RM update

RM was just muttering under his breath and slamming (cabinet) doors. He behaves this way sometimes when he feels ignored or otherwise wronged. Perhaps it is the box of chocolates still sitting, untouched, on the dining room table; perhaps it is the fact that I've shown no interest in conversation. Of course, my right to this lack of interest has been discussed, but he's shown himself to be an in-one-ear-out-the-other kind of guy.

***
I met an out-of-town friend for coffee this afternoon; she asked for an RM update. I told some stories, threw in some old ones for good measure. She said, "wow, he really doesn't read signals. Or--not even signals--you've explicitly told him that you're not interested in friendship." I told her that the unbelievable thing is that the dude's getting an advanced degree in leadership. She said, authoritatively, "those are the worst." And it's kind of true. It's like how guys go out of their way to proclaim that they're feminists have serious underlying disrespect for women (so many examples--a friend and I were recently discussing this). A degree in leadership, and he doesn't know how to listen? And he doesn't know how to address issues? He slams doors around like a small child. Not only that, but he'll bring up serious things at the worst possible time--like when I've just biked ten miles and there's a forkful of food half an inch from my mouth. That's glib, but you don't want to engage someone when their focus and priorities are obviously elsewhere. Actually, this is another thing that I've seen among people who should know better-- I know that when I took a leadership skills class, one of the key points was, "make it safe." Make sure it's a good time for the person to talk. Don't blindside them.

I'd also told my friend that I'd made peace with RM, ironically, by embracing is in-one-ear-out-the-other nature. See, I owed it to him to communicate my concerns, issues, etc. I don't owe it to him to make him listen or to keep repeating things. I've done my part here, and I no longer feel responsible for getting through to him. As I've told you, it's easier at this point to shrug and move on. It's liberating, in a way. And while it's been the right answer for a while--once it became clear that he was beyond help, trying to talk to him became a clear waste of time--it's more palatable now that he's moving out in two months (well, two months and a week or so, but I'll be away for at least a week, so I'm counting it as two months). He can slam all the cabinet doors he wants, make all the disapproving sounds he wants. He always could, but now I care even less.

Wednesday Evening Roundup

And to think that I buy that brand. I may have to reconsider that.

While we're in the WTF department... WTF???

What Jews apparently can take responsibility for: Old Bay Seasoning.

Wednesday morning roundup

It is striking that in both cases, the assailant argues that his crime was justified because he was provoked.

Funny Maureen Dowd should mention "Mad Men," which I recently Netflixed, and of which I saw the first three episodes over the weekend. Wouldn't you hate to be all but one or two women on that show?

Back to the matter at hand, though, which Tom Shales also sums up nicely (although too wordily) in that Letterman is a comedian and not a politician, so this really is between him, his wife, and the other women in question. And Maureen Dowd invokes that as well:

As Craig Ferguson, whose show is produced by Letterman, joked: “If we are now holding late-night talk-show hosts to the same moral accountability as we hold politicians or clergymen, I’m out.”

But her main point is even more key: those relations were consensual.

Tuesday evening roundup

Is it only Tuesday? It feels like later in the week.

Anyway...

Oh, Honduras. My people have been blamed for any of the ills of the world since the beginning of time, but this instance may be the most preposterous, ironic and humorous. Believe me, you'd be so much less of a shithole if Jews were involved in your country.

Some serious Mensa thinking here.

Absurdity is apparently good for the brain. Maybe I should watch more Fox News. Or read some examples of income inequality in India. And apparently, $170 for a bottle of liquor is "not that expensive for ordinary Chinese people now."

Also disconcerting: images like this one.

Tuesday morning roundup

Wait, Bernard Kouchner, it's okay for Roman Polanski but not Guinean soldiers? Do you realize now that you've lost moral authority on the matter for defending him? And the widespread there's-gambling-in-the-casino shock that women are the target of war crimes... where have these people been? Although I guess it's something that they're shocked.

On universal accountability.

Another week, another person hit by a metrobus. At least these days, people are surviving.

Now, I did not regularly read Gourmet, nor cook from it, but some of these comments just rile me. First of all, I can't stand Rachel Ray, and whenever I've made the mistake of trying her recipes, it's turned out bland and disgusting. Second, who is this idiot:

The death of Gourmet doesn’t mean people are cooking less or do not want food magazines, said Suzanne M. Grimes, who oversees Every Day With Rachael Ray, among other brands, for the Reader’s Digest Association.

“Cooking is getting more democratic,” she said. “Food has become an emotional currency, not an aspiration.”

Food used to be an aspiration? Besides--see Michael Pollan's magazine piece from a month or so ago--the Food Channel doesn't encourage actual cooking, just watching other people cook.

Not sure where to even begin on this one. Where were all these people--those worried about the erosion of personal freedoms--over the last eight years? And what if the birthers took all that energy and devoted it to something constructive??

Why isn't food safety a no-brainer?

***
Last night, a (conservative) friend shared his mammoth splinter saga and offered the following insight: "Bring on universal healthcare. I look forward to having a bureaucrat between me and my doctor. It may be all that prevents me from beating his inept, slow-waiting room ass."

The day in public transportation

This was going to be a post about how my roommate expect a medal, or at least goes on as if he does, for the slightest thing, but I really can't be asked to care anymore, so instead I'm going to complain about the metro and some of its ridership.

This morning, this guy plunked down next to me and practically bludgeoned me with his messenger bag. He realized it, removed it slightly. As the train progressed on its route, the messenger bag progressed back into my personal space. It was definitely out of line before I let out a frustrated sigh. The guy said, “sorry,” but in a tone that implied that it was oh-so-princessy of me to expect that he keep his bag off my lap. Some people.

Then, this afternoon, I decided to stop at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I could have just gone to the one near the office, but I thought I might hit Harris Teeter at the same time if I went to the one in Pentagon City. See, I've been on a fool's errand for a new, individual-sized French press. Mine broke yesterday, and I set about to search for another one right away. Whole Foods only had an eight-cup press, and a very expensive one at that; C&B outlet had a large one as well, for a third less, but I still didn’t want a giant press taking up space in my cabinets when a smaller one would do. If I want to make coffee for eight people, I’ll use a coffee pot. Last night's search was at least pleasant, though. It was a lovely walk back home through Old Town amid all the recycle bins left out, with many a bottle of wine in each. Some beer, too. It was fascinating. But I digress. (Although before I move on, I should say I took a few cans of V8, as well as some pudding cups, out of the trash and into the recycling last night).

So today I stopped at B3. They did have an individual press, but it cost as much as the large ones, and it was still bigger than the one I needed. I was too tired to hit Marshalls, so I went to HT, got my veggie burgers, and headed home. Only to be stuck on the metro for at least half an hour, with frozen food and all. Now, I know I shouldn't complain about metro slowdowns--better that than metro accidents--but what was creepy was feeling so vulnerable just sitting there in that last car. Not cool that the thought even crossed my mind--and I wonder how many other passengers were thinking about it. Metro's working on it, I guess.

Monday evening roundup

Goodbye, Mercedes Sosa.

***
I'm trying to find for you an article that was circulating at work, about how complaints about new media (these days, Twitter) go back in history to every new media invention, including writing itself. I can't find it--I'll check the hard copy tomorrow for the writer's name--but in the process of searching, I came upon this list of Businessweek articles about Twitter, including "Is Twitter Pimping Porn to Family Users?"

Goodbye, Gourmet. I hope your successors will follow in your footsteps:

More than just a cooking magazine, Gourmet explored the culture -- and increasingly the politics -- of food.

It was that connecting of the dots between policy, the environment and the dinner table that food writer Michael Pollan, author of "The Omnivore's Dilemma," most lamented losing.

"They were reaching an audience that wasn't sensitive to the political and ecological implications of their eating," he said in an e-mail. "It was largely a hedonistic community that Ruth [Reichl] introduced to some hard issues."

And if you're looking for a testament to just how much food matters:

"The new intelligence has provided fresh ways to try to undermine the foreign al Qaeda fighters. Pakistani authorities say they've started targeting food shipments believed to be headed for al Qaeda operatives, who prefer their own cuisine over local fare. "The Talibs, they're eating mutton, chicken, bread -- the food ordinary people eat," said an officer from Pakistan's ISI spy agency. "The Arabs want their own food.""

In other news: when tipping becomes extortion.

Monday morning roundup

I've got to side with the tortoises on this one, and not just so that people can photograph it. Turning it into a populist argument over the value of a local vs. a rare, endangered species is not going to get you anywhere.

A great turn of phrase from the People's Republic:

"In its announcement last week, Beijing said that state-owned groups would be reorganized to allow outside financing so that they could “live on their own rather than being attached to government departments as parasites.”"

Do billionaires, as a group, have a social function?

Have we definitively entered an era of scorched earth politics?

Sunday afternoon roundup

The Post didn't think much of "Hungry," but I'm posting it here because one aspect of the review stood out, and related to the "meformism" I metablogged about this morning: much of the book apparently reads like a diary-- the unglamorous details of someone else's life, uninteresting to pretty much anyone other than the reader, and yet so often broadcast these days through social media (and now this book, which is said to have redeeming qualities for those with a personal stake in its subject area). It doesn't have to be that way-- I told you how much I enjoyed reading the memoir of another food writer, Ruth Reichl. She made it interesting. She wrote about food without telling you how she liked her oreos.

This book on the WTO seems interesting, although I don't think I'll read it. Which won't stop me from using it to argue with the haters.

Kathleen Parker has the most simple yet comprehensive take I've read so far on the Polanski situation. This one takes the cross-cultural perspective and is also worth a read. As is, as always, what Eve Ensler has to say.

Sunday morning roundup

Dysfunctional health care as we know it: a case study. And a broader perspective.

Ireland remembered what hunger was like and opted to unbite the hand that fed it.

By the way, James Stewart's New Yorker piece that Frank Rich cites, on the eight critical days last September, as lived by Geithner, Bernanke, et al, was excellent (although I can't say I understood it all). And here's the too-true Journal article.

Sunday morning ramble

I heard my name as I approached the Opera House at the Kennedy Center last night. It was colleague, who was in the main hall, watching a concert on the Millenium Stage. He asked me what was going on in the Opera House-- I told him it was a concert sung by Olga and Ildar--two Russian opera singers--and conducted by Placido Domingo. He said he'd seen Thomas Pickering, as well as a number of ambassadors, go in. I admitted that I'd never have recognized Thomas Pickering if I'd seen him; my colleague shrugged, said he was a C-Span junkie.

***
The concert was amazing. It was just amazing. It makes me wish I'd bought a subscription, especially since it's a good lineup this season. Oh, well-- they'll simulcast at the Nationals' Stadium. I wish they'd simulcast at the Mall, like they did a few years ago.

The simulcasts are good because they're free, but actually I love the Kennedy Center. I love going outside during the intermission and looking at the water. I remember when, many years ago Alex and I went to opening night of Samson and Delila, and there was this fierce thunderstorm that had kind-of calmed, and the air was perfect, and you could still see lightning over the water, at a distance.

***
The Kennedy Center was awash in cute shoes. I recalled the shoe lesson we'd provided for Jayson at Tasha's party-- he'd asked what were pumps, and we had to explain that not all heels were pumps. Tasha, for example, was wearing open-toed pumps, which were not the same as peep-toed pumps. We debated the term "toe cleavage" (I, myself, love it; Afiya does not). Since one of the guests was wearing gladiator sandals, we had to explain those, too. This evening, I wore peep-toed slingbacks.


On a quasi-related note, Tasha told me that when she first moved in with Marcela and their two other roommates (I moved in a year later to replace one of them, who was completely insane, and proceeded to appear on America's Next Top Model), one of them said since she didn't really cook, she'd like to use the kitchen cabinets as a repository for her running shoes and other athletic gear. Tasha balked and the cabinets were saved.


***
I know I've gone on about this before--and it wasn't that bad this time--but I can't help but wonder about people who go to the Opera thinking that people are there to hear them. I wonder whether it's getting worse in light of the "meformer" Twitter culture, or whether they're just contemporaneous. Either way, it's annoying. STFU, people. I want to concentrate fully on the people with the beautiful voices. Also, you're going to be in close quarters--go easy on the fragrance.

***
I once again got to the metro just in time. It was glorious.

It's the food system, stupid

I'm getting really, really sick of this BS. I'm not saying that farmers' markets are the panacea. I'm not even pretending that I, in light of a government salary and a mortgage, shop them. But all this farmers market-bashing is missing the point, as many of the comments on that piece have stated better than I could. But if you're content taking on the role of anti-agri-intellectual in favor the food system that, among other things, paralyzes young dancers with impunity, keep oversimplifying and missing the point.

Also: When you have to go out of your way and really stretch the truth, it means you have little to offer.

Here we go again

I've put off dealing with this gate, at first because I didn't want to spend the money, and then because I didn't have time to find a contractor, but over the last couple of weeks, I realized that it was time. But realizing isn't doing, and I sat on the realization. But last night I dreamt that I'd actually contacted and hired a contractor, so when I woke up, I realized it was time (I also dreamt that I was balancing on a yoga ball with my eyes closed, probably because we'd done that in class).

So I started looking for contractors. Surprisingly, Google's not useful in that regard, because you get a lot of non-local companies, as well as instructions on how to do-it-yourself, and I'm not interested in doing it myself. I just want it done. I turned to Craigslist, which has been good to me in the past (car, a few roommates/houses, electrician, plumber). They didn't make it easy, because fencing doesn't really fall into any of their categories (it's not lawn and garden, but it's not household services... yet it's kind of both). Eventually, I found a few--and I mean, exactly three, ads by people who do fencing. All provided e-mail addresses, so I contacted them and asked how I could go about getting an estimate. I provided my approximate location, as well as how much and what kind of fencing I would need, in case they might be able to provide a ballpark estimate without having to see it, but I didn't expect that to be the case. Nonetheless, I expected some semblance of customer service, because it had been a few months since I had to hire people for house stuff, and I just forgot what it was like out there.

The first reply--I've now gotten two--was not encouraging:
"Thank you for contacting us for your home improvement project.
Please give me a call to set up a time for an estimate."

Um, if I wanted to call you, I would have called you. Your number was on the ad.

The second one also requires a phone call, but at least they offered to call me (and used my name--which is not a bad business idea--if not perfect punctuation): "First off thank you for your interest A. We can definitely provide you with an estimate. If you can reply to this email with your contact information I will contact you today and we can set up a time to meet. Thank you again and I look forward to hearing back from you."

Missing commas aside--I'm not looking for an editor, after all--MUCH BETTER.

Saturday morning roundup and ramble

Judith Warner, too, thinks little of Michael Moore's latest endeavor, for different reasons:

"...to reach people you had to meet them where they were. Respect them. Acknowledge their social norms, beliefs and practices. Find common ground. Build on shared human aspirations — for safety, for dignity, for a better life for one’s children — then discover how those shared aspirations might reasonably translate into ending practices that cause suffering.

“If you come in and say, ‘You are awful people,’ people tune out and say, ‘Who do you think you are?’” she told me, speaking first from Senegal, where she has lived for the past 35 years. “Making people feel bad about what they’re doing doesn’t work; they only get defensive. What does work is getting people to discuss together what are their rights and what they mean. It’s not just a question of blaming and shaming people but educating and empowering them.”"

So, so true.

This guy's awesome. This guy is not. Governance takes competence. Gail Collins comments:

As a nation we seem to be overstocked on dreams involving fame and fortune, particularly the ones that come untethered to any plans for actual achievement. Every time a TV show holds auditions for a new singing or dancing or top-modeling competition, the streets are stacked with people who appear to have no particular talent or training but are confident that they can make it to the top, thanks to the critical dream factor.

And maybe they have a point. When President Obama told the nation’s schoolchildren that success requires hard work, a reality TV star named Spencer Pratt retorted that it was actually quite easy. He makes millions of dollars every year playing himself on “The Hills” and attending a large number of nightclub openings. This was not something Pratt had to study for.

I'm sorry, but if you're looking to soft drinks for your dose of antioxidant--yes, that singular is intentional--you're beyond help.

The $23,000 Ghandi pen is much, much more ironic than the Che shirt, no matter where the proceeds are destined.

Some people are only funny when they're not trying to be, i.e. by virtue of their very existence as a public persona.

These jokes are horrendous, but I'm more horrified by some of the comments/lack of sense of humor of some of the commentators. Not because they don't like the jokes, but because they think that some things, in this case health care, are beyond humor. You have to lighten up. You just do.

I laughed last night at something not funny: I was at a party, and someone asked about (M), who had RSVPed but hadn't arrived. I said she worked unpredictable hours; was she still at the same job where she was when this person last spoke to her? I said, no, she's elsewhere, doing human trafficking. The person gave me a horrified look. I said, "I mean, she's not doing human trafficking..." The person said she knew--the horrified look was about the unpredictable hours that would keep someone in the office until 9pm on a Friday. I thought the whole exchange was pretty funny, even though trafficking is no joke. But sometimes you have to laugh.

***
The party was a blast. Just like old times--when Tasha, the hostess, was one of my roommates. See, I'm friends--good friends--with many of the people I once lived with. These friends didn't spend as much time trying to be my friend as my roommate does.

Languages came up, as they do when you've a roomful of Peace Corps volunteers. I realized, as I had earlier in the week for an unrelated reason, that I missed class so much it hurt. But I'd have to do some self-study before I went back.

***
Af. [who is Jamaican]: Jamaican rum is the best.
A.: I don't know-- I really like Central American rum. I still have some Flor de Cana, as does Marisa, from even longer ago. And that rum that Tasha brought back from Honduras was good, too.
T.: I did gifts then? I've stopped doing gifts.
Af.: You did, because I remember trying that rum, and it was good.
A.: I still have the alpaca scarf you brought me back all those years ago-- I love it because it's warm and doesn't itch.
T.: I stopped doing gifts shortly after that because it's hard to get good stuff, and I was determined not to buy people crap. And then, of course, what do they have me doing for Peace Corps? Helping people sell crap. I tried steering them toward making quality things, but they wanted none of it; they wanted to make cheap trinkets for tourists who didn't care enough to consider quality. I tried. Now I'm back to buying crap, because I know it's someone's livelihood.

***
It was a beautiful night--it had rained while I was a the party, but I missed it. It was beautiful beforehand, too. I walked down to Tasha's from the office. I was so excited about the fierceness of my handbag: large enough to hold the big tupperware container of quesadillas that I'd made upon special request, plus the tupperware from my lunch, plus the gym clothes I was taking home to wash, plus the bottle of wine in the bottom. I was so caught up in the fierceness that I didn't consider what a pain it would be, literally, to carry all that for half an hour. I was already in pain-- Sam had us do calf raises, which definitely mean pain. He always ends class asking for questions, comments, concerns and advice with women. I'd be happy to share from negative example, but I'd imagine he's already beyond anything I'd advise him not to do based on the barnlike behavior I've encountered in my dating adventures. But I digress.

After the party, I walked to the metro. Some days, seeing that your train is coming in a minute--when it's late enough that it could be 19 minutes--is manna from heaven. This wasn't one of those nights--I probably could have stood to wait a few minutes--but it was, nonetheless, heavenly not to.

I boarded. The conductor, upon reminding everyone to use all available doors, asked, "what's going on with the last two cars??" He continued: "Multiplication lesson coming up: there are six cars, with three doors on each. That makes 18 doors. No matter which door you use when you enter, you'll still exit on the same platform." Shrug. If they're going to be giving metro etiquette lessons, I'd suggest starting with higher priorities, like ceding seats to the expecting and elderly.

Friday roundup

China's rhetoric has always been "impressive," but I have to cringe when "without bloodshed" is so narrowly defined and yet, still vaunted.

This is hilarious in so many ways:

“I think this is how global capital should be welcomed wherever it goes,” Mr. Ozbek told NTV on a live broadcast...

The hurled shoe lost speed after it hit a seated student posing a question with a microphone in hand, and so it missed the director, slow-motion television pictures showed. But while a Turkish shoe company claimed to have made Mr. Zaidi’s shoe — a statement that promptly increased its sales worldwide — Mr. Ozbek’s shoe was reported to have been made by Nike.

It's a relief that the shock jocks'/pundits' followings are smaller than they appear, but I maintain that we'd be better off as a nation with a meaningful opposition.

Good for her for speaking up about abysmal bus-driver behavior.

According to Steve Pearlstein, Michael Moore's new film suffers from a lack of accuracy and nuance.

John Oliver's hilarious report on protesters.

Thursday evening roundup

Don't Ask, Don't Tell is officially stupid.

I know I've said that Tom Friedman borrows and rehashes the same ideas... and oversimplifies things, but I've also said that when he's right he's right, and sometimes that--i.e. synthesizing other people's ideas/observations and rehashing (er, incorporating) your own--hits the spot.

Really, DC? Do you really thing cutting funding for House of Ruth is smart?

Beware the indoctrination campaign.

It's about time. I f*ing love Riesling.

That's what happens when you base trend stories on a handful of people.

Quote of the Day from Women's Health:

You see, food manufacturers think you're stupid. In fact, their marketing strategies rely on it.

Yup. Read labels carefully. The same goes for cleaning products, where greenwashing is rampant.

Is this for real?

Thursday morning roundup

Here's the thing about working while driving: you're doing neither well. Isn't it better to fully concentrate on your work, as well as fully concentrate on the road? I've multitasked all my life, too: I can pull it off, but I have to acknowledge that the studies are right: you do things better when you singularly focus on them. Again, though, the bigger issue is that you have a responsibility to not harm other people on the road.

So, expectations of constant productivity--even amid evidence that multitasking decreases productivity--are making us ADD. Are e-books and such doing the same? I found this question telling:

“There is no question that these new media are going to be superb at engaging and interesting the reader,” said Maryanne Wolf, a professor of child development at Tufts University and author of “Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain.” But, she added, “Can you any longer read Henry James or George Eliot? Do you have the patience?”

Her choice of writers was interesting, because Henry James is so readable. I understand the added value of video with how-to books (and I could certainly use those for home repair stuff), but with literature?

Is China, sixty years later, becoming post-ideological?

I grabbed the comics on my way out the door on Sunday--have been meaning to post this from Doonesbury.

Sean Hannity's best line ever: "Farmers... don't want a government handout." Perhaps, but the farm lobby must be out of touch with its constituency.

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