Saturday morning roundup

Japanese sushi chefs find greater opportunity abroad.

The King of Saudi Arabia moves to rein in the proliferation of sometimes nutty fatwas that the information age has exacerbated.

A Sudanese pro-democracy movement speaks out even in the face of great risk.

Bill Richardson makes the case for more engagement with Latin America.

Mayor Bloomberg epitomizes how one's Jewish heritage should shape one's views on mosques near Ground Zero.

A number of columnists suggest making a distinction in the tax code between the rich and ultra-rich.

In an inspired and inspiring column, Gail Collins reminds us that progress takes time. And perseverance.

Charles Blow's faith for progress rests with young people.

The Style Invitational prints some bad ideas for making the nation more secure.

Friday morning roundup

The non-spy pardoned by Russia in the spy swap is feeling the pain of exile, but is afraid to go back. If even not doing anything in Russia is fraught enough, actual activism, as we know, is really dangerous.

Older women in India are opting for IVF.

Hertzberg on the Ground Zero mosque controversy. For Colbert on the same, see the video for The Word on his main site (the link doesn't work).

Stormageddon hits DC. I haven't biked to work at all this week because of the weather, which means five days of metro. And my metro stop for work has been getting an awful lot of attention lately, none of which is surprising.

Yes, aggressive talkers are annoying, too, but--I'm sorry, Petula Dvorak--obnoxious children are still public enemy #1 on flights. It's unfortunate that flight attendants these days apparently hate their passengers, especially those with families, but many parents don't help the situation by deciding to take a break from parenting once they board, at the expense of everyone else on the plane.

The poison ivy chronicles, continued

Do you guys remember this extremely disturbing article about the woman who couldn't stop the itch (and eventually scratched a hole to her brain)?

I'm not quite there yet. Actually, a week into my third round of poison ivy, I've gotten better at not scratching.

The first round was brutal. The steroids helped the itch, but kept me up. As of Monday, I'm officially off the juice.

The second round--which is limited to one section of my forearm, and in its last week as we speak--is pretty mild.

The third round resulted from my final attempts to eradicate the monster from my backyard. I wore protective gear. Nonetheless, it's almost impossible not to expose any body part. As a result, the rashes are back, although still not as bad as the first time around. And I don't have to go back on oral steroids. But it still itches. And I still can't sleep.

Remember I told you I hoped at first it was a mosquito bite? With this round, I was afraid it was bug bites, but since I would wake up to discover the bumps, I worried it was a spider or something. I do prefer poison ivy to bed bugs.

I couldn't reach some of the ivy, even to spray. It's dying, but it's going to fall at some point, and I'm going to have to handle it again. In protective gear. But that only takes you so far.

***
I just flipped off my cat. I am literally sick of her $hit.

I hate her. I don't know why I keep her around. She's not that cute.

I found myself summing it up the other day to a friend: I guess I'd rather she annoy the crap out of me than be dead.

Barring that, I hate her fat, whiny ass.

quick Thursday morning roundup

China desperately needs some health care reform.

A few stories after Steven Slater, i.e. Colbert's Alpha Dog of the week, we have omega scumbag of the week.

Wednesday morning roundup

The case against slum tourism. But you don't have to do it that way. You can go see different parts of a place without gawking.

Cohen finds the Economist's review of a new biography of Sayyid Qutb missing something important.

Maureen Dowd makes a compelling case for not pre-screening one's college roommates. That's the best time to start appreciating other people for who they are. I even appreciate my last roommate for who he is (although I'd never want to live with him again).

Monday evening roundup

Some travel safety tips from the Economist.

Some travel-inspired life lessons from David Sedaris.

If the excerpts in this review represent the best humor Laura Ingraham's new book has to offer, I'm really confused about the reviewer's idea of effective satire. Politic leanings aside, it comes off as a lot of mean-spirited pettiness.

Monday morning roundup

India considers reforms to its broken food aid system.

Rwanda continues to flourish and to undermine civil liberties.

Southeast Asia's new China strategy: military buildup.

Ross Douthat's argument against gay marriage may be the least hateful out there, but that's not to say its logic holds.

A massive brawl wakes Metro up to the chaos that regularly transpires in its system.

Sunday morning roundup

Tom Friedman's compelling when he's right, and he knows the Middle East.

Plans for mosques across the country are testing our national commitment to religious freedom. On a quasi-related note: why Jews should be all over the California ruling.

It's awesome when responsible business finds success. I hope that Alexandria does something with all the fallen tree parts it was wonderful enough to pick up curbside.

Would you people shut up and let the First Lady vacation where she wants?

A more in-depth look at the concept that money can buy happiness--when it buys experiences rather than stuff. The home near the hiking trails is a good one--I was just thinking this morning, "this trail is priceless." It's so beautiful I never get sick of it, and it's right there. I like that this article leaves room for nuance: experiences are awesome, but sometimes material things (a) are more than the thing itself; and (b) hit the spot.

I'm one of those jackasses who likes to read things because they're well written and speak to me. I love some of these these writers. But I'll admit I'm disappointed with some of this year's New Yorker fiction.

Saturday morning roundup and response to comment teaser

Amid the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, outrage and dilemmas persist in Japan.

Can social media fight Egypt's epidemic of police brutality?

Nixon loyalists in denial about the wrongness of Watergate are challenging the National Archives' representation of it.

Those nooks and crannies might be the next test for Wikileaks, and a less damaging one, at that. Who knew that Hostess was so scheming. I guess there's only so many Twinkies you can sell without resorting to corporate espionage to broaden your horizons.

This is a really dumb article on the "new" youth bulge in the federal workforce.

Alexandria lost so many old trees in the recent storm because so many of our trees are very old. I saw one or two, or twenty, on my ride home, just removed from the trail.

Some of these people's complaints about their dining companions bother me. What's so picky about asking for dressing on the side? I told you about how my overpriced shredded cabbage salad at Founding Farmers was barely edible because it was overdrenched in dressing (which, incidentally, I'd requested on the side). I'm all for people paying more attention to what they eat. On that note, it turns out most people do read nutrition labels.

It also turns out that women by sexier clothes when ovulating. Here are some other interesting social biology tidbits.

I wasn't sure where Alexandra Petri was going, but I appreciate her point: a wedding is a big deal:

This day is big not because Bill doesn’t expect his daughter to lead a fulfilling and exciting life -- but because it marks a special occasion that is qualitatively different from a professional milestone like being elected president, the kind that stands out even in a rich life. It is a celebration of finding the proverbial needle of love and commitment in the haystack of the singles scene.

Which brings me to the romcom issue, the full reply to which is still developing. There are two issues there: the one invoked in the original column, which is that people care less about language, dialogue, etc.; and the one about the sad state of romance bringing down the art form that was the quality rom com. I do agree that they're no longer gender-neutral: even some not-bad ones that I watched at the behest of a male friend ("The Two Ninas," "The Tao of Steve,") were clearly, obviously guy movies. More later.

Friday morning roundup, Asia edition (and more)

As Indonesia outgrows its reputation for corruption and inefficiency, questions about a hajji mafia emerge.

Meanwhile, China's once-unstoppable charm offensive on Southeast Asia is losing steam.

A Chinese modern artist takes on pollution.

Naomi Campbell finds it terribly inconvenient to testify against Charles Taylor. I bet we could find some people in Liberia and Sierra Leone who could clarify the concept of inconvenience for her.

More locally: I'm thrilled that the power's back and looking forward to cleaning up my part of the metro region's storm-induced mess. I walked home from the metro through a disaster area yesterday--fallen mattresses, tree branches, just about everything else. I'll need to take my bike home today; hopefully the trail is in decent shape.

Found the phone number

Please see Sunday evening's phone call for context.

I'd talked to mom on Monday morning--she was livid on Sunday night, and still going on on Monday about how she had no time for this but it would take me five seconds because it was three lines. I said, fine, if it's three lines, tell me those three lines in Russian and I'll type them up for you, right now. So after three lines, she started going on. and on. and on. I told her I was done at three lines. I sent them to her.

That's why she likes to write letters: she doesn't want to resolve the problem; she wants to be witty and make a statement. Except that she lacks the tools, skillset to do so, and has to ask other people to do it for her (usually me). And I don't share her sense of wittiness ("no, mom, I'm not writing, "I'm too old for this.")

Anyway, I called last night.

A.: Did you send the three lines?
Mom: Oh, no. I found a phone number and called.

Of course. After all that.

And yet, you'd think if she had no one to call, she'd have found the phone number right away without wasting anyone else's time. I wonder how many fights I would pick if I could just have someone else take care of them for me. Someone write to ADT about their raising my rates even though I'm locked into a contract. Hell, someone write HP about what a piece of crap my new computer is. That's something I'm going to do anyway. Really.

Then she goes on. and on. and on. about how she's left Verizon again because she didn't like the router. And then about something else she bought that she had to go return.

I have to wonder whether she thrives on this stuff. I still don't think so, but I have to wonder.

Thursday morning roundup

Is the Time cover dealing in war porn and blackmail, or (just) bringing attention to the plight of Afghan women?

In case you thought Dr. Kissinger didn't have enough to answer for, he also scapegoated and slimed an Air Force General.

The daughter and granddaughter of Tennessee preachers assures us that politics only cheapens religion.

Gail Collins on hydrangeas and viral videos.

Robert McCartney urges Bravo to spotlight the real, real housewives of DC. My question: do they still have to be housewives? Because I don't think they are.

Wednesday evening roundup

I stand corrected: there is an aspect of Chelsea Clinton's wedding worth writing/talking about.

Urban agriculture is anything but a fad, has a distinguished history.

Can love transcend divergent feelings about food? BTW, my reaction to the excerpt was, "gag me." I like food but I don't need to close-read it.

Wednesday morning roundup

Bring on the accusations of socialism, but I think child nutrition programs and assistance to indigent refugees are a worthwhile use of federal funds.

The decline of the romantic comedy is a decline of wit and appreciation for language.

Britain's budget woes are about to herald a paradigm change in funding for the arts.

This writer-to-Carolyn has trust issues.

Tuesday morning roundup

Would you prefer that Virginia's Attorney General prioritize the use of your tax money to go after drunk drivers with multiple DUIs, who end up killing and injuring nuns or illegal immigrants?

Atul Gawande's poignant essay on terminal patient care will make you grateful for every disease-free, functioning part of your body.

As much as I love "Mad Men," I have to wonder whether it merits so many sociocultural analyses.

Really, Washington Post? Are there not two wars going on? And even if there weren't, leave the Clintons alone.

I like where Sixth and I is now--do they really have to move it again? To across the highway?

Hell is leaves of three

Gracie loves it that I can't sleep past 3am. She loves going outside at this hour.

3am's the new normal. It's not bad; it's manageable, even more so than 2am, which was the old new normal. A few more days of steroids, I keep telling myself... but I wonder whether the insurgent itch on my forearm, so far fairly tame, is residual or a new bout. I think I may lose my mind if it's new--I can't take more iching or more steroids. At this point, the anxiety is worse than the itching.

Monday morning roundup

No love for the Blackberry among Persian Gulf autocrats.

Are Arab states apathetic to the fate of actual Palestinians?

In the Information Age, some students struggle with the concept of intellectual property and the associated sin of plagiarism. In its last paragraph, the article invokes some recurring themes on this blog:

At the University of California, Davis, of the 196 plagiarism cases referred to the disciplinary office last year, a majority did not involve students ignorant of the need to credit the writing of others.

Many times, said Donald J. Dudley, who oversees the discipline office on the campus of 32,000, it was students who intentionally copied — knowing it was wrong — who were “unwilling to engage the writing process.”

“Writing is difficult, and doing it well takes time and practice,” he said.

And then there was a case that had nothing to do with a younger generation’s evolving view of authorship. A student accused of plagiarism came to Mr. Dudley’s office with her parents, and the father admitted that he was the one responsible for the plagiarism. The wife assured Mr. Dudley that it would not happen again.

Speaking of younger generations, the Snowpocalypse and Snowmageddon babies are coming.

Sunday evening roundup

Insurance companies engage in some serious bull$hit at the expense of the bereaved.

The Real Housewives apparently helps women hate women.

Have I mentioned that overfishing is depleting our oceans?

Moscow's traffic nightmare says a lot about Russia.

With power outages, as with many things, not knowing what's going on is worse than not actually having power.

A book review on "Nine Lives:The Search of the Sacred in Modern India."

It looks like we have another letter to write

A.: Hello?
Mom: Hi. So, it looks like we have another letter to write.

I don't object to letters, per se. If RCN is being its evil self, I'm willing to help out. But I wanted to point out that it wasn't a good time for me to get the details.

Mom: So, I joined this risk-free, monthly...

A.: [oh, no.]

Mom: ...blah, blah, blah.
A.: Mom, my hands are dirty...
Mom: Well, I'll just explain in general.

But she goes on to explain in detail.

A.: Mom, I can't take this in right now. Besides, could you just call them?
Mom: I want to cancel out officially.
A.: [loud sigh]
Mom: Look, will you do this for me?
A.: Of course I will, if we need to. But I prefer it if you try calling them first.
Mom: I didn't see an easy way to do that?
A.: You didn't see a phone number? They gave you no instructions for canceling?
Mom: What's so hard about writing a letter?
A.: I don't have a lot of time right now. I will write this if we need to write this...
Mom: Fine! Goodbye!

***
I'm getting over a bout of poison ivy so nasty that I'm relieved when I find that I have a mosquito bite, because that itch will go away with vinegar or subside naturally in little time. I'm not sure how many hours I worked last week... but I pretty much remember that I got home, crashed, woke up itching, crashed, woke up, and went back to work. I've not read most of the Post yet.

I'll write mom's complaint letters when complaint letters are warranted. When the situation can be resolved with a phone call, I prefer that we take that route.

***
Mom doesn't write, so she thinks writing is easy for people who do. She doesn't understand that it's not helpful to hear "the general idea." That's not how it works. It would be as if I asked her to hem a pair of pants for me without measuring it, or by asking her to measure it while she was cleaning mushrooms.

A significant part of my job entails writing. It does not entail pulling information out of my @$$; rather, it--particularly the drafting of the product--requires taking detailed notes, organizing those notes, and building a case. That's how I write.

If mom would like me to write her a letter, the least she can do is give me something to work with (when I can work with it).

Sunday morning roundup

Glenn Beck inspires violence.

Our food system has killed our oldest farm, after centuries.

A new book on being careful about what we take from the sea.

Beware the budget deficit.

Do the woes of a struggling garment factory present a microcosm of what ails the Italian economy?

French GM workers accept benefit cuts to save their plant.

You know the economy is hurting when counterfeiters are selling knockoff Charmin (and other mid-range products). You'd still have to pay me to wear Uggs, real or fake.

Orhan Pamuk's window on the world.

Conservative columnist Kathleen Parker will miss the "small-town" values she experienced in the nation's capital.

Levi Johnston is one of three possible fathers, based on the week of conception? What the f* am I doing with my life?

Maureen Dowd's Holly Golightly-Betty Draper analogy starts out strong and ends up a bit tortured, but is nonetheless interesting.

Sloane Crossley's very humorous essay on how record temps in New York have brought about the New Naked.