Archive for ‘Food’

July 14, 2008

All Alone In Public Spaces

I am excited beyond belief to share with all of you, dear readers, a grand realization I had this past weekend. This was the sort of ‘aha!’ lightbulb moment after which the world is never the same again, but is a little wider, a little shinier, a little more bearable.

I realized that the best way not to be surrounded by obnoxious, loud people in public spaces in New York is to sit near a bunch of quiet people to begin with, rather than go sit off by yourself somewhere.

Here’s how I came to that realization: I bought a sandwich and went to consume it in a pretty, park-like area, and, as usual, went straight for a bench in the most deserted stretch of park. I was halfway through my sandwich when a couple of giggling teenagers came and sat right on top of me, despite the general emptiness of the area, and began to converse, in loud and squealing terms, about their burgeoning sex lives.

My entire life I have whined about how strangers seem to seek me out. I find the close proximity of other people repellent on a visceral level that most people do not feel for their fellow humans, which I realize is a personal shortcoming, but which I cannot help, because it is a kneejerk, gut-level reaction, cultivated in early childhood and continually reinforced by the fact that other people really do consistently suck out loud in every conceivable fashion. And yet, despite my extreme misanthropy, people gravitate towards me like metal filings. I need only install myself in a totally deserted area to make that area the most coveted spot in town. No matter where I am standing – even if it’s next to the only Port-a-Pot in a malarial swamp – five seconds after I have begun standing there, at least ten people will urgently need to stand right where I’m standing, usually with their dogs and babies and cameras and stereos and B.O. and inappropriately loud domestic fights and all.

I’d always assumed that this was a sort of karmic punishment for my disliking other humans’ close proximity so much – a sort of ‘who the hell do you think you are’ rebuke from the universe. Except that I don’t really believe in any sort of large-scale cosmic justice, so I kept looking for other reasons.

Anyway, back to this weekend, these teenagers were yapping on about their various forays into the wide world of sex, both homo- and hetero-style, and how they sometimes did so with hesitancy and sometimes with great enthusiasm, depending upon the other person involved, the amount of various intoxicants in their systems, and the suitability and romance of the atmosphere. And they were doing that thing where they were actually looking right at me and projecting in my direction while they ostensibly talked to each other. I provided an audience for them, which made the whole thing more interesting to them, I suppose. At some point, something so very ridiculous was lobbed so obviously in my direction that I audibly sighed, rolled my eyes, got up and packed up my sandwich and moved on.

I began looking for another deserted stretch of park, when suddenly, I had the inspiration to sit instead right smack between two older couples who were each murmuring quietly to each other while glaring at everyone passing by.

It was the best decision I ever made! I enjoyed my sandwich in peace and solitude, buffered on both sides by a cranky, old couple that didn’t want to look at me, or for me to overhear word one of their conversations. And it was at this point that I realized why people had always been coming to sit by me: they had been doing it on purpose precisely because I was quietly reading a book! They knew that they would be able to dominate the space, and that my presence would ensure against any louder people coming to sit next to them.

In New York, you never sit in an empty area, because no area is empty for very long. Rather, you pick the least offensive strangers, and then you scooch in right on top of them. That way, you have some control over your fate. I put this new theory into practice over the rest of the weekend, and I have to say, my quality of life has improved by leaps and bounds. I feel less angry, less hassled, happier and more well-inclined towards my fellow man. And I’m beginning to think that perhaps New York is somewhat livable after all, if you just learn how to work with it.

Speaking of despicable haters, I have really taken note of the passing of Jesse Helms. I think that the worst possible thing that you can do with your life is live it in such a way that, five seconds after you’re in the ground, people everywhere burst forth with celebrations of your death and denunciations of everything you were. Scores of private assholes are despised posthumously by everyone who knew them, but it seems like, if you are going to be an asshole, at least do yourself the courtesy of limiting your own exposure. Because to be a hated asshole on such a very grand scale as the late Senator Helms seems to me to be far, far worse than spending your entire life in your room doing nothing and seeing no one. I really hope that, whatever I do or don’t do in life, I don’t do such a grandly awful job of it as to be remembered as the world now remembers Jesse Helms.

Of course, if I can’t be confident of the purity of my heart saving me from such a fate, at least I can rely on my lethargy and ineffectiveness.

Related, what does make people so social? Mirror neurons:

Mirror neurons are the only brain cells we know of that seem specialized to code the actions of other people and also our own actions. They are obviously essential brain cells for social interactions. Without them, we would likely be blind to the actions, intentions and emotions of other people. The way mirror neurons likely let us understand others is by providing some kind of inner imitation of the actions of other people, which in turn leads us to “simulate” the intentions and emotions associated with those actions. When I see you smiling, my mirror neurons for smiling fire up, too, initiating a cascade of neural activity that evokes the feeling we typically associate with a smile. I don’t need to make any inference on what you are feeling, I experience immediately and effortlessly (in a milder form, of course) what you are experiencing.

(via 3QD)

Here in America, even in our public parks, everybody thinks it’s their own, personal bench. Blame it on the Renaissance:

This focus on the individual, and its false equation with democracy, began back in the Renaissance. The Renaissance brought us wonderful innovations, such as perspective painting, scientific observation, and the printing press. But each of these innovations defined and celebrated individuality. Perspective painting celebrates the perspective of an individual on a scene. Scientific method showed how the real observations of an individual promote rational thought. The printing press gave individuals the opportunity to read, alone, and cogitate. Individuals formed perspectives, made observations, and formed opinions.

The individual we think of today was actually born in the Renaissance. The Vesuvian Man, Da Vinci’s great drawing of a man in a perfect square and circle-independent and self-sufficient. This is the Renaissance ideal.

It was the birth of this thinking, individuated person that led to the ethos underlying the Enlightenment. Once we understood ourselves as individuals, we understood ourselves as having rights. The Rights of Man. A right to property. The right to personal freedom.

(via 3QD)

Briefly:

Kids make their parents miserable.

Noooooooo!!!!! 99% of my diet is soy!!! It was the one thing that was never bad! That’s it, screw it, I’m going back to living on microwave burritos and beer.

This is good stuff to know.

July 8, 2008

Things You Might Hear At Your Weight Watchers Meeting…

…now that Weight Watchers has launched its new “Diets Are Mean” campaign:

“Are you trying to be in movies? No? Then what do you want to be thin for?”

“I think you have a lovely, womanly figure!”

“Hell, how long’s it been since you last had sex? Give yourself a damn piece of cake!”

“No one who’s had the day you’ve had could get by on 1500 calories.”

“It’s just harder for you to lose weight than other people – you have a different kind of body.”

“You went to the gym today – go ahead and have seconds!”

“Oh, so you ate the whole pint. At least you’re not a heroin addict.”

“If you’re being good and eating a boring salad for lunch, you should at least get to jazz it up with fried chicken strips and ranch dressing.”

“You know, you’re a good, kind person, and you’re intelligent. If you’re also fifty pounds overweight, well, that’s just more of you to love!”

“Skinny people look like anorexics with cancer.”

“If you just concentrate on making yourself happy, the weight will go away on its own.”

“Everything in moderation – even moderation!”

“Calories don’t count on your birthday/at Christmas/on your friend’s birthday/at a wedding/on vacation/when it’s this beautiful out/on the weekends/when you’re celebrating/on Flag Day/when they’re free/when someone surprises you with a treat!!!!”

July 4, 2008

How Many Movies and Hot Dogs Can You Consume Today?

I’m already bored of Wall-E. I haven’t seen it. I haven’t really heard all that much about it. I’ve seen, I think, one preview. I’ve listened to everybody I’ve talked to in the last couple of weeks assert that it’s really very good, and that I ought to see it right away. And I’ve seen headlines of articles and blog posts about it on every site I visit – I haven’t even read the articles; I’ve just seen the headlines.

And I’m already sick of it. This is what happens to me all the time with whatever culture thing everybody goes nuts for. It’s not that I don’t want to see it, or that I wouldn’t like it on its merits. I’m sure it’s great, and I’m sure I’d love it. But I probably won’t see it, just like I never ended up seeing Juno or, well, really any movie, honestly. I think in the last year, I saw The Orphanage and Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day (both with other people, after all the movies on offer went through the rigorous screening process that is everybody else’s tastes and what they’ve already seen, so you end up left with something random, but by and large unobjectionable like The Orphanage or Miss Pettigrew), and that’s it.

It’s just that, within five minutes of a film being released, it’s freaking everywhere, and I feel like I’ve seen it, not just once, but over and over and over again.

And furthermore, I guess that some people are glad for the next cool thing, but personally (and I know I’m not the only one), I’m always drowning under a cultural backlog of things that I must absolutely see, read, experience, be up on, and whenever someone tells me that I simply must drop everything and see this thing RIGHT NOW, it feels downright rude. I have enough culture to be wading through! I don’t need somebody barging into my little culture-absorber’s library carrel and screaming, “Drop everything! We’re all seeing a movie about a robot RIGHT THIS MINUTE!” What the crap? I’m still working on seeing Juno! Are we done with that already? I still haven’t seen The Godfather. Or Say Anything. Or the first Batman – the one with Christian Bale, not the twelve Batmans before that. And I never saw Brokeback Mountain, either. Not to mention there are oodles of You-Tube videos people simply won’t speak to me until I watch now right now. So, you know what, Wall-E might not get watched right this damn minute, and he’ll just have to wait his turn, won’t he?

I’m feeling stressed just thinking about it. I realize that some people think that films and books and web bits and stand-up comics are things to be enjoyed recreationally, as they come, and need not be amassed like plunder in the various stockpiles of one’s brain. I realize that for some people, word of a new cultural sensation they’d not heard of before is a treat, not a sign of personal failure. But I think these people are of a different species from me entirely.

These are the type of people who say things like, “I’m looking for a good book to read.” A statement which I cannot believe anyone could ever utter in all sincerity. Who are these people?

Here, odd, disinterested space-people: here is my 58-page single-spaced insane book list I’ve been adding to since I was twelve years old, with titles scribbled all up and down the margins and extra Post-It notes covered in chicken scratch stuck on all over. Close your eyes and point to one. You’re welcome.

Meanwhile, I’m off to see Wall-E. I mean, The Dark Knight. I mean, STOP MAKING MUST-SEE MOVIES FOR A LITTLE WHILE, WON’T YOU?

Speaking of glut, the 4th of July is the day for one of America’s greatest annual events: Nathan’s Famous 4th of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest, the competitive eating event of the year. I’ve mentioned my obsession with competitive eating several times on this blog, and all the heavies will be at Nathan’s this year: Kobayashi, Joey Chestnut, and my personal favorite, Sonya ‘The Black Widow’ Thomas. Thomas is a 100-lb., 5’5″ Korean woman who has consistently demonstrated an astounding ability to put away large amounts of food:

She swallowed the egg. Then she swallowed 64 more in six minutes and 40 seconds. She could have eaten more but the organizers ran out of eggs. . . . “Eggs are easy to eat,” Thomas explains. “I could eat 80 or 90.”

(My obsession with all this, however, is not so unreasonable that I would actually go down to Coney Island this morning and experience first-hand the crush of humanity crowding around the Nathan’s Famous stand there.)

Speaking of impressive athletes, click here to marvel at the mind-blowing physique of Dara Torres, 41-year-old swimmer who’s attempting to qualify for the 50-meter freestyle in the Olympics this year. If I were to pick a role-model between the two, I think eating 64 eggs in 6 minutes is a slightly more reachable goal for me than looking like Ms. Torres when I’m 40.

It’s probably a good thing all of my goals are in culture consumption.

June 25, 2008

Semantics

I stopped reading the Times columnists back when the website started charging for that content, and, since I didn’t miss them at all, I haven’t gone back to reading them.  So, granted, I haven’t read any of the columnists in quite some time, but based on my recollections of when I read them daily (before Kristol was hired, but then, I’m familiar with him), I mostly agree with this assessment:

Unlike David Brooks, another Times conservative, Kristol gives the reader nothing to chew over. Brooks is smart — and usually wrong. But he makes me think and sometimes he gets it just right much as George Will does. One of Kristol’s problems is that he clearly doesn’t believe half the things he writes. . . . He has to pretend he cares about choice and low taxes because he is playing at being a conservative. All that pretending produces seriously bad columns, inept columns. Krauthammer’s columns are crazy but his writing is fine because all the hate energizes him. He loves hating and it shows! Kristol isn’t even a good hater.

I can enjoy reading people with whom I entirely disagree, if they write well and with conviction.  I also adore a good, witty, ranting hater, even if he’s hating on the convictions I hold most dear.  (Incidentally, I have next to no patience for conspiracy theories of any kind, but the closest I come to actually holding one is I kind of think the Times hired Maureen Dowd on purpose to make women look stupid.  Really, is there any other explanation for her?  [And the conspicuous continuing absence of any other women on the Op-Ed page?])

Speaking of paying for content, I can’t access this New Criterion article without subscribing, but I want to quote the intro:

Sometimes I forget and ask for Tall, Grande, or Venti, but usually I ask, defiantly but with some embarrassment, for small, medium, or large, because I resent being forced into a greater intimacy than I desire with the Starbucks corporate culture. I want to be a customer, not a member of the Starbucks Club who validates his membership along with his entry on the premises by speaking the Starbucks idiolect.

I too resent and avoid the Starbucks pseudo-Italian nomenclature, because using it makes me feel like a tool.  I realize that blogging about my refusal to use it makes me even more of a tool, but I can’t help myself.  Seriously, I don’t understand the whole ‘foreign words sure are classy’ marketing trend to begin with.  Many Americans (including me) only speak English, which is embarrassing enough (especially because they then have the nerve to bitch like all Dickens when somebody else can’t speak it to them), but if that’s the case, we should all just fess up to it.  It’s stupid to try to sprinkle foreign terms we don’t understand and can’t pronounce into our commercial transactions, because the unfamiliar sounds expensive (or authentic, which means authentically expensive).

Vogue Italia has realized black women can objectify themselves and glamorize greed just as well as white women:

Having worked at one time with nearly all the models he chose for the black issue — Iman, [Naomi] Campbell, Tyra Banks, Jourdan Dunn, [Liya] Kebede, [Alek] Wek, Pat Cleveland, Karen Alexander — [photographer Steven] Meisel had his own feelings. “I thought, it’s ridiculous, this discrimination,” said Mr. Meisel, speaking by phone from his home in Los Angeles. “It’s so crazy to live in such a narrow, narrow place. Age, weight, sexuality, race — every kind of prejudice.”

(via Kottke)

Hooray for equality.  Meanwhile:

Over at Supreme Dicta there is an amusing, if disturbing, report by a grader for the Advanced Placement exam in US Government of some of the more comical statements made in response to an essay question about the 15th Amendment. . . . such as the statement that: “Strom Thurman [sic] was the first black man in Congress”. . .

Really, I think that’s how Strom ought to be remembered.

Yesterday President Bush told President Arroyo that her people sure make good kitchen workers:

I want to tell you how proud I am to be the President of a nation that — in which there’s a lot of Philippine-Americans. They love America and they love their heritage. And I reminded the President that I am reminded of the great talent of the — of our Philippine-Americans when I eat dinner at the White House. (Laughter.)

Meanwhile, Jim Comey explains why he wasn’t quite sure warrantless wiretapping wasn’t legal:

Well, I suppose there’s an argument — as I said, I’m not a presidential scholar — that because the head of the executive branch determined that it was appropriate to do, that that meant for purposes of those in the executive branch it was legal.

(both via Firedoglake)

On McCain’s foreign policy credibility, Representative Brad Miller writes that no President truly knows and understands another country, and what we really ought to evaluate is how willing a candidate is to listen to the people who do:

After World War II, governments that we thought were stable, governments headed by leaders we found impressive for their western qualities, repeatedly fell to revolutions or coups. To avoid unpleasant surprises, we developed expertise in the State Department and our intelligence agencies to understand other nations. We employed analysts who have lived in different nations and have friends who live there still, speak the language fluently, read the newspapers, watch the television, respect the religion, eat the food, and listen to the music. Our analysts stay in touch with the Americans at universities and in business who travel frequently in those countries and know people there.

With the exception of environmental scientists, no one in the federal government has had less to say about our government’s policies in the last seven years than those analysts. . . . The Bush Administration had open scorn for the analysts who argued that Iraq was an intensely nationalistic society that would resent a foreign army on their soil, and that it would be difficult to establish a government that Iraqis would accept as legitimate.

I don’t know why I’m suddenly interested in Amtrak:

The number of passengers traveling by train in the US rose significantly in May. Unfortunately, Amtrak is reaching full capacity with no real way to increase the number of trains or routes at its disposal for several years.

I guess just because I really think the age of the personal car is going to eventually end, and I’m curious about how our lives will change when that happens.  I have not had a car since college – I’ve lived in Chicago, and now New York, pretty much the only places in America where you can reasonably live without a vehicle – and honestly, the necessity of getting a car is one huge barrier to my moving elsewhere.  I don’t want to buy one, I don’t want to pay to gas and maintain it, and I don’t want the responsibility of driving.

I wonder:  if public transport becomes more widespread, will inexpensive storage-locker facilities suddenly spring up in all manner of places?  Because that would be good.

June 19, 2008

Today Is My Birthday!

I am 27. Having a June birthday, I’ve very rarely celebrated it, because when I was a kid and cared about birthdays, either I was at camp all June long, or everyone else was. Summer birthdays are sort of non-events.

But not this year! This year I’m throwing a party, along with my two roommates and my friend Sara (whose actual birthday is Saturday). It’s this Saturday at my apartment, and if you live in the NYC area and know me, but this is the first you’re hearing about the party, you should contact me for directions. We haven’t really done any prep work yet, so I don’t know exactly what you’ll be in for if you come; however, I did wake up this morning to discover that a large piece of sound equipment was rolled into the living room sometime after I went to bed last night, so, you know.

Today being my actual birthday, I went to Rice to Riches on my way home last night (which, if you are not aware, is a place on Spring Street that sells nothing but flavors of rice pudding), and purchased a small tureen of pecan pie rice pudding, which I’ve just consumed as my birthday breakfast. So, the day is off to a rip-roaring start! (Actually, to be honest, it was way too much pudding, and I feel more than a little nauseous, but I’m sure that will subside.)

On to feminism!!

You’ve probably already heard about this, but according to Fox News, all black women are angry black women:

Cal Thomas: I want to pick up on something that Jane said about the angry black woman. Look at the image of angry black women on television. Politically you have Maxine Waters of California, liberal Democrat. She’s always angry every time she gets on television. Cynthia McKinney, another angry black woman. And who are the black women you see on the local news at night in cities all over the country. They’re usually angry about something. They’ve had a son who has been shot in a drive-by shooting. They are angry at Bush. So you don’t really have a profile of non-angry black women.

(via Feministing)

Speaking of Fox News pissing everyone off, Salon explains why this was so bad (for those who actually need an explanation of why this is offensive):

“Stop Picking on Obama’s Baby Mama!” Those were the words running on the bottom of Fox News’ screen Wednesday, during a discussion about right-wing attacks against Michelle Obama’s patriotism between anchor Megyn Kelly and conservative blogger Michelle Malkin. . . . Though of course it does rhyme, and there’s the innocuous Tina Fey allusion, Fox News’ attempted subliminal ghettoization of Michelle Obama is still quite clear.

Undoubtedly, you’ve also heard a lot about all these angry, alienated white women who will now be voting for McCain out of sheer spite. I don’t personally know any women who fit this profile, but the media assures me that they’re everywhere. I like Bitch Ph.D.’s post on the topic:

. . . yes, I think that the women saying “I’m staying home” are overreacting. But I also think that the men saying “you selfish feminists, how dare you” are *also* overreacting–to the expression of female anger, disappointment, autonomy. . .And yes, the reality of party politics means that in this election, women who care about women’s rights . . . should *of course* vote for Obama, because McCain is opposed to to all these things. And maybe some of the feminist outrage is indeed an expression of white entitlement and/or class entitlement–since, after all, representation at the top is more of an immediate issue for professional women than it is for working-class women. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a legitimate expression of anger against sexism as well.

Speaking of McCain:

. . . John McCain canceled a Texas fundraiser to be given by Clayton Williams after it was revealed that Williams, during his 1990 campaign for governor of Texas, compared rape to the weather: “As long as it’s inevitable, you might as well lie back and enjoy it.” After canceling the fundraiser, McCain’s campaign said that they would be keeping the money raised by Williams – more than $300,000.

Related, FP’s list of the worst places in the world to be a woman. (via Economic Woman)

Here’s a fascinating article on moral psychology, and how it does and does not differ across different cultures. Included in the article are the “Trolley Problems,” which I heard a year ago (on an episode of Radio Lab as replayed on an episode of This American Life), and used as a conversation starter all summer long:

. . . Hauser and his lab have collected judgments about Trolley Problems from thousands of people in more than a hundred countries, representing a broad range of ages and religious and educational backgrounds. The results reveal an impressive consensus. . . . even in this enormous sample and even for complicated borderline cases, participants’ responses could not be predicted by their age, sex, religion, or educational background. Women’s choices in the scenarios overall were indistinguishable from men’s, Jews’ from Muslims’ or Catholics’, teenagers’ from their parents’ or grandparents’. . . . Also interestingly, Hauser, Mikhail, and their colleagues found that while the “moral instinct” was apparently universal, people’s subsequent justifications were not; instead, they were highly variable and often confused.

(via A&LD)

Finally, following up on the Obama campaign’s rumor-dispelling site I linked to yesterday, see also this:

Barack Obama buys AMERICAN STUFF. He owns a FORD, a BASEBALL TEAM, and a COMPUTER HE BUILT HIMSELF FROM AMERICAN PARTS. He travels mostly by FORKLIFT.

June 18, 2008

If You Make It To The End Of This Post, There’s Something Fun To Look At

Obama has launched a site aimed entirely at putting to rest [four of] the eight billion rumors widely spread about him and his family:

Faced with a new crop of deceptive online smears, Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama ratcheted up his online counteroffensive Thursday with a new site aimed at debunking the latest web and e-mail rumors about him and his wife. The site, called Fight the Smears, launched listing four claims against Obama. It counters each with a rundown of the facts, in some cases accompanied by supporting video footage.

That’s great and all, but in my opinion, these types of rumors are only believed by people who are already convinced against a candidate, and really, these people would be against the candidate regardless of all this nonsense. I don’t really feel that this type of stuff does as much harm as everyone’s convinced it does – when voters are asked why they dislike Obama, and they say, for example, ‘he’s a Muslim,’ they may or may not really believe that, but even if they knew it wasn’t true, they still wouldn’t be for him.

Or maybe I’m underestimating the power of such talk – at any rate, it’s very annoying to hear people parroting baseless claims, and I’m glad Obama is committed to dispelling rumors about himself, unlike some past candidates.

Meanwhile, Josh Marshall has this to say about the McCain campaign’s accusations of Obama’s fp naivety:

. . . on the topic of using Jim Woolsey as your presidential surrogate to call your competitor “delusional” and “naive”, I’d almost forgotten Woolsey’s freelance James Bond mission to England back in 2001 to prove the crackpot theory of Laurie Mylroie who came up with the idea that Saddam wasn’t just behind the 9/11 attacks but was actually behind the original attack on the Twin Towers back in 1993.

Related, here is a very long and detailed post on the various theories for why the South went Republican in the ’60s:

We thus know that a significant number of white voters in the South would desert the national Democratic Party—even for a Republican, as they did in 1964—if it wavered in its commitment to white supremacy. . . . But wait, now. Along come some political scientists to tell us this Republican racism is a bit of a side show, that the real story of the GOP’s new southern eminence has to do with the emergence, at long last, of a New South, ushered (ironically) into being by Democratic programs of New Deal and wartime mobilization.

More on why Amtrak sucks so much, (and why it’s still around):

The American passenger rail-once a model around the globe-is now something of an oddball novelty, a political boondoggle to some, a colossal transit failure to others. The author James Howard Kunstler likes to say that American trains “would be the laughing stock of Bulgaria.” . . . Since its ill-fated formation as a quasi-public, for-profit corporation in 1971, Amtrak has seen only meager growth and loses billions of dollars annually.

Ten reasons the CA DoH should leave genetic testing companies alone:

When some overprotective Luddites from the California Department of Health Services sent cease-and-desist letters to thirteen genetic testing companies, they proved that someone in their office must have single nucleotide polymorphism that causes poor judgment. Interfering with the nascent industry is not a good idea for a plethora of reasons.

I really think Japan might be paradise on Earth. White noise machines in public restroom stalls to cover any noises you might be making; government-mandated thinness tests; sushi; seppuku; Hello Kitty…and now, you can actually SWIM IN POOLS OF COFFEE (OR WINE)???? Check out these photos, and tell me you’re not dying to go.

June 5, 2008

It’s Called Sarcasm, Stupid

Guests at The Guardian Hay festival ask one question (whatever they most want to ask) to whoever they most want to interview:

Andre Vincent, comedian asks Marcus Brigstocke, comedian

Q You’ve got a fantastic life that I envy. Why do you get depressed so much?

A What an awful question, you horrid man. Well, I made a rule that if I don’t care about something, I won’t write about it. So I have involved myself in loads and loads of things that I passionately care about in the news and after a while, as they’ve accumulated, I have lost faith in the world being a benevolent place. . . . But I would be a mug not to realise that the life that I have is actually enviable, and enjoyable for the most part.

And:

Stephanie Merritt, author and journalist asks Omid Djalili, comedian and actor

Q Should comedy change the way people think about the world, or is it just pure entertainment?

A People can be entertained by comedy of the most puerile nature. People with great motives can also be capable of the most cringingly earnest experiences cloaked as entertainment. When motive and entertainment fuse you get the best combination.

(via Kottke)

(There are also many questions about things political.)

P.J. O’Rourke visits the Field Museum:

A very wordy inscription details the theories of when and how humans arrived in the New World. Translated from the academese: “We dunno.” An encomium to the Ice Age hunter-gatherers follows. “People like us,” it concludes, “prospered in ancient times.” We did indeed–if your idea of prosperity is fastening a “Clovis people” spearpoint to a stick and stabbing long-horned bison, giant grand sloths, wooly mammoths, mastodons, and New World horses until they were all extinct. The economic boom didn’t extend to casual wear and sports clothes. Ice Age or no, everyone in the talentlessly painted murals is naked. Nipples seem to have been vague and smudgy in ancient times, and a mastodon or giant ground sloth was always getting in between mural viewers and your genitals.

(via A&LD)

Whoa.  Burger King + advertising + Amsterdam = hugely inappropriate (yes, there is a photo):

The trayliner depicts the airport-style high security Burger King uses to ensure that only the top ingredients are used. Images include a scared Onion with his trousers down around his ankles while a fierce-looking Pickle guard with a latex glove, prepares to digitally examine him! Scattered about him from his open luggage are veggie porn mags!

Maybe this explains a problem I’ve been having:

What you may not have realized is that perceiving sarcasm, the smirking put-down that buries its barb by stating the opposite, requires a nifty mental trick that lies at the heart of social relations: figuring out what others are thinking. Those who lose the ability, whether through a head injury or the frontotemporal dementias afflicting the patients in Dr. Rankin’s study, just do not get it when someone says during a hurricane, “Nice weather we’re having.”

(via BB)

Ever since moving to NYC, I have had trouble with people interpreting my every comment as sincerely made.  I am sarcastic about 99% of the time, and, until I moved here, so was everybody else.  But for some reason (maybe it has more to do with the age bracket I’ve moved into), I now find myself constantly responding to “Really?!” with “No!  Of course not, I was being sarcastic!”  It’s so weird – you would think New Yorkers would be more sarcastic than everybody else, wouldn’t you?

Here’s an example of an actual conversation I had not too long ago:

Woman (off a star mag she was reading):  “Oh, Gwenyth Paltrow’s feeling harassed by paparazzi again.”

Me:  “Oh, that’s really awful.  I feel really terrible for celebrities.  They have to put up with so much.”

Woman (carefully):  “Yes.  But, you know, they choose that life, and they do really well for themselves, so I don’t always think it’s so bad.”

Me (blinking):  “Me neither.  I don’t feel sorry for celebrities at all.”

Woman:  “What?”

Me:  “I was…being entirely sarcastic.”

Woman:  “Oh.  Oh, I see.”

Me:  “I’m going to back slowly away from you now.”

This might sound like an extreme example, but I swear, this has been happening to me all the time.

Finally, Todd Levin tells a hilarious subway tale.

June 2, 2008

Give Me Transit, Or Give Me Death

Seems everybody wants to keep the racism and lose the term for it. Here, M. LeBlanc at Bitch Ph.D. responds to Geraldine Ferraro’s recent op-ed:

Bringing up sexism or racism has become, in the minds of those outraged by accusations that they might be sexist or racist, “playing the gender card” or “playing the race card.” . . .

I’ve been astonished at the degree to which “playing the race/gender” card has flourished as a phrase and concept in the conversation about this primary race. I’ve heard it from so many bloggers, pundits, straight-up newscasters, and even some of my personal friends. I want to be as absolutely clear as I can: it’s a bogus concept, and using it makes you part of the problem.

Race and gender are not “cards” that you play, like laying out trump in bridge and winning the hand. Because when you have to bring up racism or sexism to explain what is happening around you, that means you’re already losing.

News that’s not news: shopping and eating cookies can help you forget about death:

The authors believe people with low self-esteem use consuming as a way of subconsciously escaping self-awareness, which is heightened by thoughts of dying. “When you indulge in shopping or eating, it helps you forget yourself,” says Smeesters.

(via Serious Eats)

Related, people in Japan should eat more cookies. So should the U.S. Army. And the Russian army.

Jeffrey Goldberg interviews John McCain on Israel, Iran and Obama, among other things:

JG: Let’s go back to Iran. Some critics say that America conflates its problem with Iran with Israel’s problem with Iran. Iran is not threatening the extinction of America, it’s threatening the extinction of Israel. Why should America have a military option for dealing with Iran when the threat is mainly directed against Israel?

JM: The United States of America has committed itself to never allowing another Holocaust. That’s a commitment that the United States has made ever since we discovered the horrendous aspects of the Holocaust.

In addition to that, I would respond by saying that I think these terrorist organizations that they sponsor, Hamas and the others, are also bent, at least long-term, on the destruction of the United States of America. That’s why I agree with General Petraeus that Iraq is a central battleground. Because these Shiite militias are sending in these special groups, as they call them, sending weapons in, to remove United States influence and to drive us out of Iraq and thereby achieve their ultimate goals. We’ve heard the rhetoric — the Great Satan, etc. It’s a nuance, their being committed to the destruction of the State of Israel, and their long-term intentions toward us.

(via FP Passport)

In the same interview, McCain takes issue with Obama’s willingness to talk to Iran. Here’s what Thomas Friedman thinks about all that:

Mr. Bush was also right: talking with Iran today would be tantamount to appeasement – but that’s because the Bush team has so squandered U.S. power and credibility in the Middle East, and has failed to put in place any effective energy policy, that negotiating with Iran could only end up with us on the short end. We don’t have the leverage – the allies, the alternative energy, the unity at home, the credible threat of force – to advance our interests diplomatically today.

Here’s Matthew Yglesias responding:

We’re a giant rich country and they’re a medium sized middle income country. We have military forces in two of Iran’s neighbors, we maintain sanctions on Iran that hurt their economy. Our closest ally in the country is a rich nation with a power military establishment and nuclear weapons, their closest allies in the region are non-state militia groups. We have plenty to offer Iran that would be valuable to them insofar as they’re willing to change their behavior in ways that are valuable to us. That’s all the leverage you need to start a process of negotiation.

And Yglesias on McCain:

I was walking earlier today thinking to myself, “you know, say what you will about John McCain, but he’ll almost certainly be a better President than George W. Bush so we have something to look forward to no matter what happens in America.” Then I thought to myself that to write that up, you’d need to include the all-important to-be-sure sentence. Specifically, something like “if, that is, he manages to avoid any catastrophic new wars that lead to massive bloodshed.”

Also worth a mention (although to me this doesn’t sound like as big a deal as the whole Phil Gramm thing):

Before Rick Davis began serving as John McCain’s campaign manager, his lobbying firm had a pretty cosmopolitan set of clients. For example, Ukranian billionaire Rinat Akhmetov, who has several business links to Iran.

A history of the L

…and a gallery of the coolest subways. Included is the best subway I’ve ever experienced:

The Hong Kong MTR has the distinction of being one of the few subway systems in the world that actually turns a profit. It’s privately owned and uses real estate development along its tracks to increase revenue … and ridership. It also introduced “Octopus cards” that allow people to not only pay their fares electronically, but buy stuff at convenience stores, supermarkets, restaurants and even parking meters. It’s estimated that 95 percent of all adults in Hong Kong own an Octopus card and they generate more than 10 million transactions each day.

Not to mention, it’s clean as a whistle and a piece of cake to navigate.

Timely to study what works, since lately, Americans are cuckoo for public transit!!!

The Balkans are totally safe now (well, unless you’re a woman).

May 20, 2008

Stunning Feats of Bravery

Are you brave enough to take on these death-defying tasks? Are you man enough to go where no man has gone before? Are you bold enough to attempt the impossible? Take my challenge: prove your mettle by performing one or more of these terrifying stunts:

1. In earliest morning, put on your fanciest cocktail dress. At about 11:00 a.m., go alone into an upscale restaurant in your city’s business district. The restaurant will be nearly empty at this hour, but there will be a few servers sitting toward the back, eating breakfast and polishing silverware for the lunch crowd. Stand there patiently until one of them approaches you. Ask if it’s too early to be served. Request a large, central table. When seated, do not get out a novel, newspaper or cell phone. Rather, make eye contact with the staff, all trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. When the busser brings bread and asks what you’ll have to drink, ask for a wine list. When the server offers the lunch menu, ask if there’s a prix fixe. Order several courses. Have the Porterhouse steak for two, or, if there’s a dish that involves the server wheeling out a cart and/or setting something afire tableside, go with that. Get dessert – ask if the chef can do a tasting menu. Linger as the restaurant fills up with businesspeople and their clients, all having Diet Coke and chef salads. Ignore the hustle, the bustle, the fact that your large table is now desperately needed. Sit, placid and content, in your gown and jewels, polishing off your bottle of wine, and working steadily through your feast.

If you can pull this off, you are more courageous than 98% of the population.

2. Think back to your junior-high or high-school years. Who was the first boy you ever dated? Google him. Look him up on MySpace. Email him and ask him if he remembers you. He’ll probably reply, excited to hear from you, and ask what you’re up to these days. Ask for his phone number – tell him that there’s something you must discuss with him, and you don’t feel like typing it all out. There will be a couple days’ delay after this request, but he’ll probably give it to you eventually. Call him up. Get drunk first. Call at about 11:30 p.m. on a Tuesday evening. Tell him that you realize this probably comes as a shock to him, but you’ve been seeing a therapist lately about your inability to connect with men, and you’ve decided that the only way to move past your dating hurdle is to confront it, head on. Inform him that he is that dating hurdle. Tell him that you never got over him, that he was your first and only love. That in the twenty-odd years since the two of you shared your first tongue kiss under the bleachers at that Saturday afternoon JV soccer game, you’ve never had more than a single date with any other man. Tell him that you think about him every day, and wonder where he is and what he’s doing. That at night, you dream of him, and wake up feeling bereft and empty. That you compare every male friend, every coworker, every actor on the screen with him…and they all come out unfavorably. Tell him that, even though you know you must move on, if now or at any point in the future, he were to call to you, you would leave whoever you’re with, and any children you might have with that person, and you would run to his side – immediately and without question. Tell him that you’ll always be his deep down in your heart, and that you need him to know that, so that you can go on with your life. Ask him if he knows that.

If you can do this, there’s really nothing you can’t do.

3. Ask out that guy that seems like he kind of likes you, but is far more attractive than you are, and is already sort of dating that really stunning woman who works in accounting. When he starts to politely decline, begin to cry and tell him that you’re sorry, it’s just that your parents and your cat recently died (your parents were cat-sitting for you and all three of them were shot to death by a couple of junkies in what was probably a gang initiation of some kind) and sometimes it hits you at odd moments. Get yourself together, and ask him, sorry, he was saying? He’ll probably agree to go out with you. Tell him that since you invited him, you insist on picking the event and paying. Tell him that he’ll be coming along to see you make your open-mic debut at Caroline’s. Tell him he has to promise to laugh really loud, even if you totally blow. On the evening in question, wear a dress that is a little too young for you, and a lot too short. Wear it with heels that are brand new and uncomfortable. Part your hair on a new side, and wear a giant flower pin in a totally ironic way, but worry that people might not get that you’re joking. When you’re all awkwardly trussed, take a cab to Caroline’s and wait out front for your date. Get there 40 minutes early, and mention this when he shows up ten minutes late. Get over your nerves by having a few martinis. Tell him that you totally didn’t eat because you wanted to look pretty in your dress, which you think is maybe just a tidge too small. Tell him you can admit these things, because you have a good sense of humor about yourself. When your name is suddenly called, take the stage. Perform the following stand-up routine:

“Hey there, folks! Whoo, are we having fun tonight? Having a few drinks? I know I’ve had a couple. Who here finds me attractive? Huh? Anybody? Did you note my giant flower pin? I put it on today and I thought boy, this looks goofy. I sometimes will do things to be funny, and people will think I’m serious and feel bad for me! But the joke’s on them – because I think that’s hilarious! I’m on a date tonight, folks. First time in awhile. Stand up, Eric! Take a bow. Oh, that’s…where did he go? Oh, there he is. He’s cute, right? Yeah. Dating’s tough these days, am I right, ladies? It’s hard to DATE when you’re DATED!!! Ha, ha. I dated a Hispanic one time, and boy, did he love my cellulite. Am I right, ladies? You know I’m right! I sure do find my body hair unmanageable. But life today, with the Britney Spears and the iphones…. Who can keep up? I don’t know, it’s crazy. All my friends are gay guys. And cats. And that’s my set!!! Thanks, you folks have been terrific.”

Run excitedly back to your seat and ask your date how he thought it went. Tell him you thought it was awesome, and you’ve never felt so great. Tell him you’ll probably give notice at work the next day, and ride this wave all the way to the top. Ask him if he’d like to do something insane and just go to Maine this very night! Just go to freaking Maine! Fart audibly, and giggle in embarrassment. Tell him that, okay, you understand…in that case, he can come back to your place. Topple over onto the sidewalk, and stand up, blaming it on the heels. Explain that you’re really not that drunk. Tell him that, alright then, you’ll go back to his place. Start to cry. Scream that he’ll be sorry someday, when you’re the next Lisa Lampanelli and he’s still working IT in his dippy little tie and dating his anemic, beanpole of a girlfriend who’s never made a joke in her life. Calm down, and ask him if he can spot you a $20 for cab fare. Tell him that you’re super stoked he was on your arm to witness your big debut, and that you feel the two of you are going to be really great friends, no matter what else fate may have in store for you.

If you can pull of this evening, and show up at work the next day, you are the bravest mortal ever to walk the face of the Earth.

May 20, 2008

Just Because People Say It…A Lot

In two separate studies, neither of which should come as a surprise to anybody with a brain, the Washington Post today dispels some things we’ve heard a lot of squawking about for the past couple of years:

First of all, no, there is no education crisis in which girls’ increasing achievement is coming at the expense of boys’ success:

“A lot of people think it is the boys that need the help,” co-author Christianne Corbett said. “The point of the report is to highlight the fact that that is not exclusively true. There is no crisis with boys. If there is a crisis, it is with African American and Hispanic students and low-income students, girls and boys.”

This ought not to come as a surprise, because whenever you hear about a boys’ crisis in education, you never hear about boys doing worse than boys did in the past (clearly, because they’re not) – you only hear about girls doing better than girls did in the past. But there’s no discrepancy here for people who feel any advancement made by women is by its very nature at the expense of men. (Incidentally, remember back when Laura Bush decided to make saving American boys her mission?)

And secondly, no, teenage girls aren’t using a technicality to blow the football team and still call themselves virgins:

Contrary to widespread belief, teenagers do not appear to commonly engage in oral sex as a way to preserve their virginity, according to the first study to examine the question nationally.

This ought to come as no surprise, because there’s always ongoing speculation by adults who can’t get their minds out of teenagers’ pants about what porn-o-riffic exploits the young might be indulging in these days. I’m no fan of Caitlin Flanagan (in part, because she frequently mourns for poor, neglected, American boys), but this Atlantic article is a good explanation of where this sort of speculation comes from, and why it’s degrading and insulting to teenagers:

The moms in my set are convinced-they’re certain; they know for a fact-that all over the city, in the very best schools, in the nicest families, in the leafiest neighborhoods, twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls are performing oral sex on as many boys as they can.

Related, the creepiness of purity balls! There’s a line at which traditional safeguarding of the “virtue” of young girls becomes more perverse than its opposite, and I think it’s around the time people forget that a vagina is something a girl has, not something that she is.

More on appeasement:

Bolton in the WSJ…:

‘When the U.S. negotiates with “terrorists and radicals,” it gives them legitimacy, a precious and tangible political asset. Thus, even Mr. Obama criticized former President Jimmy Carter for his recent meetings with Hamas leaders. Meeting with leaders of state sponsors of terrorism such as Mahmoud Ahmadinejad or Kim Jong Il is also a mistake.

…versus Scoblic in the LAT:

Containment, negotiation, nuclear stability — each of these things helped protect the United States and end the Cold War. And yet, at the time, conservatives thought each was synonymous with appeasement.

(via NYT)

I’m sick to death of talking about the primaries, but I’m even sicker lately of hearing people say things like this:

[W]ere it not for Hillary’s vote for the war, [Obama] would not have run because there was no opening. She gave him the opening by voting for the war. So spare me the stories about her being defeated by sexism or whatever. Democrats are dying to vote for a qualified liberal woman for President (just as some of us are dying to vote for a qualified liberal African American. And this year we will).

What this writer really means is: “MY FRIENDS AND I are dying to vote for a qualified liberal woman for President….” Just because you are a liberal who dislikes Clinton based on her (lack of) merit does not mean that sexism hasn’t played a huge part in her reception as a candidate. If you truly, genuinely believe that race and sex play little part in how the majority of Americans (yes, even liberal Americans) see these candidates, well, then you have a far, far more hopeful view of people than I do, and I hope you’re right.

But you’re not.

Also, while I’m talking about this, I’d like an end to the oft-repeated exclamation that no one mentions black women when the topic at hand is the general reception of these two specific candidates. Does everyone really have to spell out “women, including black women” and “black people, including black women,” in order for people to stop tossing in the observation that “no one’s talking about black women” to bolster their claims that either (a) white women are trying to say they’re worse off than black men; or (b) people are generally more reactive to racism than sexism?

On a lighter note (before I explode), I have an odd obsession with competitive eaters – my favorite is Sonya “The Black Widow” Thomas, who manages a McDonald’s and weighs less than 100 pounds – but even if I didn’t, this interview with Crazy Legs Conti is particularly hilarious:

I ate three sticks of butter as fast as I could. I wouldn’t recommend that for a pro-eater or a casual diner. . . .I also ate my way out of an eight foot box of popcorn, the Popcorn Sarcophagus, which earned me the moniker, “The Houdini of Cuisini”. I found it wasn’t the pop or the corn that did me in, but the butter. Butter is seems, is my kryptonite.

May 12, 2008

More Yogurt Ad Derision

Remember what I had to say about those stupid Yoplait ads?

Well, this hilarious video says it all much better.

May 8, 2008

Momofukin Meal: The Foodie Final Rounds

At the height of my career as a pro eater, I secured a resy to the illustrious Momofuku Ko. I was honored to be chosen. I hoped I was up to the challenge.

On the night in question, my dining companion and I nervously dressed, showered, and took a cab to the East Village. The restaurant, marked by an apricot on a frosted glass pane, is unassuming in atmosphere. We squared up to the bar, and straddled our backless stools.

Prior to the meal, David Chang led all of the diners in a rousing hymn of praise and thanks that we could all be a part of this dinner tonight. For most of us diners, being permitted to pay for this meal was the achievement of a lifetime, something we’d been dreaming about ever since we first heard that food could be elevated into a lifestyle. Our stomachs had been prepped for this by endlessly dissected dining experiences in multiple countries. We’d studied food, we’d immersed ourselves in wine. We’d poured money into our educated gullets, and we had yet more to spend. We knew our stuff, and we knew it well. We were advanced eaters, the top of the ranks.

We were ready to eat this food.

The meal began with a single fried porkrind on a piece of slate. My stomach jibbered and bounced in bliss. Everyone clapped. Kate Bosworth, who’d been admitted not because she was an advanced eater (quite the opposite), but because she was a celebrity, realized right away she wasn’t anywhere near advanced enough to be eating at Ko, and withdrew from the meal in shame.

Ten diners remained.

Chang served the second course. English muffins smeared with rendered pork fat. I began to be nervous. Would I be able to eat this course successfully? I felt the pressure of making it all the way to the finals. Granted, I’m no novice when it comes to dining, but if you blow it at Ko, you’ll never be taken seriously as an eater again. And I’ve always taken pride in my ability to ingest. Would this evening be the end of all my dreams?

But then, oh joy! I was able to appreciate the English muffins. I had made it through another course.

Next, fluke sashimi. I swallowed it down with nary a hitch. I was dimly aware of some commotion by the door – later, my dining companion told me that some people who’d failed to orgasm over the English muffins (thus revealing themselves as food amateurs) were bounced from the restaurant altogether – but at the time, I was so in the zone, I’d ceased to be aware of my surroundings.

Eight diners remaining: kimchi consumme over an oyster. I began to entertain another fear altogether: what if I went all the way tonight at Ko? If I successfully ate this dinner, I would reach the top of the top bracket of diners. Where would I go from there? What does one do after reaching the top? Eat at Per Se again? I began to feel oddly depressed.

Coddled egg with caviar. I am knocking each course out of the park. I hope my dining companion is keeping up – I’m vaguely aware of his presence, but I can’t worry about him. I have to focus on my own performance. The big one is coming up: the course in which some diners are given the spare ribs, and others, the shitty chicken. David Chang is walking up and down the bar, looking over our shoulders, studying our jaw muscles as we chew and making notes on a clipboard. Am I eating in good form? Am I murmuring appreciation in the right degree at the right times? Am I vocal enough to show surprise at the excellence of the food, but not so much that it seems I’m unacquainted with taste arrangements at this level? I have to get those spare ribs – I’ve trained my whole life for those spare ribs. I’m good enough, and I deserve them!

If David Chang gives me the chicken, I’ll kill myself.

Scallop with clams. I’m in another place entirely. I’m eating without even thinking now, just like I was born to do it.

Shaved foie gras torchon with Riesling jelly, lychee and pinenuts. Oh, God. I wasn’t expecting this. I’m not very experienced with jellied dishes. Oh, no. This is a disaster. I have to appreciate this appropriately! I must get those ribs! I put a bite in my mouth, just as Chang stops behind me. He can sense this is my weak spot. All eyes are on me. I feel Chang’s breath on my ear.

I like it!! I LIKE IT!!!!! Oh, thank God! Waves of relief crash over me and I break into hysterical, relieved laughter, as the other diners applaud, and David Chang, the master, sets a plate of spare ribs before me.

‘Congratulations,’ he says. And he applauds.

And I? I do what I do: I eat.

For I, my friends, am an Eater.

May 7, 2008

Some Interesting Things

Here’s a comprehensive answer to a question I asked many a post ago: what happens if you routinely screw up your recycling?

When loads of plastic are dumped on a recycling facility’s floor, the sorting fun begins. Workers often start by picking through the piles in search of obviously discordant items-kiddie play sets, lawn furniture, clothing mannequins. They also scan for plastic mounds that are drenched in nonrecyclable trash, such as food slurries or medical waste.

Taylor Clark attempts to dispel the myth of the obnoxiously condescending vegetarian by penning an obnoxiously condescending article:

Those of us who want to avoid the social nightmare have to hide our vegetarianism like an Oxycontin addiction, because admit it, omnivores: You know nothing about us. Do we eat fish? Will we panic if confronted with a hamburger? Are we dying of malnutrition? You have no clue.

In all seriousness, I think vegetarianism is admirable (although PETA, which runs ads that objectify women in order to promote its agenda of giving humanity to animals, can suck it). But I’ve never understood my vegetarian friends’ complaints of the difficulty of finding anything to eat. I’m not even remotely a vegetarian, and I’d estimate that 90% of my diet is cheese, bread and sugar.

I am nothing if not a lover of routine – in fact, my behavior is so habitual that it borders on insane. Like many writers, I find that I am unable to be creative at all if I don’t build being creative into a fairly rigid routine. According to this article, the important thing is to change up your habits:

. . . it seems antithetical to talk about habits in the same context as creativity and innovation. But brain researchers have discovered that when we consciously develop new habits, we create parallel synaptic paths, and even entirely new brain cells, that can jump our trains of thought onto new, innovative tracks.

Not long ago, I leafed through a book (can’t remember the title) that was basically a longer version of the above article. The book’s author advised that, to free up creative thinking and combat brain atrophy (and possibly Alzheimer’s), you should constantly be trying to surprise your own brain by doing something jolting – walking a different way to work, writing with the wrong hand, using the opposite hand to do different tasks, performing daily activities in a different order than usual, and so forth. Hmm. Maybe I should build breaking my routine into my routine.

Lindsay Beyerstein responds to Thomas Friedman on subprime mortgages:

Earlier generations weren’t more virtuous because they had less debt. Their dollars bought more. They were more likely to have steady jobs with benefits, including employer-subsidized incentives to save . . . Americans have always valued hard work–and nothing has changed. In the USA, the average worker clocks more hours than anywhere else in the industrialized world.

A very brief history of illegal immigration:

Chinese exclusion invented something like the concept and business of modern illegal immigration.

(Related, sometimes a picture is worth a thousand misspelled words.)

And finally, this is way cooler than missed connections: if you live in New York, this guy might draw you…especially if you hang out much at the Taco Bell on 14th.  (via Kottke)

April 18, 2008

No More Happy Pizza?

Apparently, Cambodia is cracking down on happy pizza. I never sampled any happy pizza (or happy anything else) during my travels in Southeast Asia, and I’m not just saying that because my parents read this blog. I’m saying it because it’s true, because, as I’ve mentioned before, I am a total freaking snoozer of a person.

However, I can advise that if you find yourself in Cambodia and missing the easy access to backpacker pizza, simply hop North of the border into Laos, where you will find not only pot-laced items, but also opium- and shroom-inspired dishes aplenty. Although, as far as the opium in Laos goes, everybody I met who’d tried it said the same thing: ‘I guess it was alright. I’m not really sure if I got high, though.’ The drugs in SE Asia are as hit-or-miss as most everything else there, it seems.

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