Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sha-money
En route to extremely important research interviews at the WTO, I meet A in Milan and head up to the winter wonderland of Chamonix, home of Mt. Blanc, molten cheese, and approximately half the population of the United Kingdom (and growing).
After a scenic bus ride through castled mountains and deep tunnels, we arrive just as the setting sun is casting a pink glow over the snow-capped peaks. Delightful. The cozy hotel is staffed by a lovely Mexican transplant named Jaime who becomes the weekend BFF. Delightful. Arrival G+Ts taken in graceful Art Deco surroundings. Delightful. The restaurant next door dishes out decent food and potent grappa. Delightful.
Thus lulled into a sense of security, awake next morning at a remarkable hour and hit the slopes. Unbeknownst to us, the WORST STORM IN YEARS (15 people dead across Europe) also hits the slopes. Visions of fluffy white skiing and leisurely lunches on sun-drenched terraces soon lost in the blizzard. Attempt to Push On Through. Morale fades, despite lashings of "hot chocolate." Area is closed for safety reasons, allowing for honorable retreat. Thaw out in steam room / sauna. Soak sorrows in bubbling cauldron of melted cheese.
The next morning lifts remain closed due to avalanche threat. Eventually we are allowed to ski. At times it is possible to see one's skiis, a marked improvement over the previous day. At one point small break in the clouds brings hope.
The following day, awake early to give it one last try. Strange orb of light appears in sky, casts bountiful rays over snow-swept paradise. AMAZING skiing. AMAZING scenery. AMAZING weather. All cut short by need to show up at 8pm meeting in Geneva. Attempt to bite off a bit more than we can chew.
Exorbitant bus to Geneva--the only one!--turns out to be tourist coach complete with pestiferous tour guide. He loves everything. We hate him.
Lessons learned:
1) Make appropriate sacrifices to weather gods in advance (e.g. virgin chamois)
2) There is such a thing as eating too much liquid cheese
3) What you do is less important than who you're with
After a scenic bus ride through castled mountains and deep tunnels, we arrive just as the setting sun is casting a pink glow over the snow-capped peaks. Delightful. The cozy hotel is staffed by a lovely Mexican transplant named Jaime who becomes the weekend BFF. Delightful. Arrival G+Ts taken in graceful Art Deco surroundings. Delightful. The restaurant next door dishes out decent food and potent grappa. Delightful.
Thus lulled into a sense of security, awake next morning at a remarkable hour and hit the slopes. Unbeknownst to us, the WORST STORM IN YEARS (15 people dead across Europe) also hits the slopes. Visions of fluffy white skiing and leisurely lunches on sun-drenched terraces soon lost in the blizzard. Attempt to Push On Through. Morale fades, despite lashings of "hot chocolate." Area is closed for safety reasons, allowing for honorable retreat. Thaw out in steam room / sauna. Soak sorrows in bubbling cauldron of melted cheese.
The next morning lifts remain closed due to avalanche threat. Eventually we are allowed to ski. At times it is possible to see one's skiis, a marked improvement over the previous day. At one point small break in the clouds brings hope.
The following day, awake early to give it one last try. Strange orb of light appears in sky, casts bountiful rays over snow-swept paradise. AMAZING skiing. AMAZING scenery. AMAZING weather. All cut short by need to show up at 8pm meeting in Geneva. Attempt to bite off a bit more than we can chew.
Exorbitant bus to Geneva--the only one!--turns out to be tourist coach complete with pestiferous tour guide. He loves everything. We hate him.
Lessons learned:
1) Make appropriate sacrifices to weather gods in advance (e.g. virgin chamois)
2) There is such a thing as eating too much liquid cheese
3) What you do is less important than who you're with
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Frozen with Hope, Part II
A lovely, crazy, confusing, and FRIGID trip to the national capital to see the inauguration of the 44th president.
I am greeted in Washington by a giant inflatable Bush presiding over a pile of old shoes in Dupont Circle. I and others are invited to pelt the effigy with said shoes. I do so with enthusiasm.
I then meet various groupings of friends/acquaintances/randos in various places: a Southern pool hall, a Stevie Wonder dance party, Ben's Chili Bowl. It is very nice to see them. I drink, inevitably, an Obamatini. Or several.
Then two good things happen. Crystal let's me sleep on her couch in Dupont, saving me a trip to the 'burbs. Oriana offers me a much-sought ticket to the inauguration ceremony, and even comes across town to deliver it. I know such nice people. Must remember to bring them luxe chocolates from Switzerland.
Today, awake at 6. Out the door by 6:30. No one I know has the same color ticket as me so I am a lone wolf, quick and ruthless. Acquire coffee, selection of unsalted nuts, yogurt parfait, newspapers. Decide to take metro to the Mall. One train comes, full, no one gets on. Another comes, full, no one gets on--except me. There's always room for one more.
Arrive at Judiciary Square to this:
Information is sparse, contradictory. No one seems to be in charge. I know I must pass through a gate, but cannot locate gate nor path to gate. Despite confusion, a happy, expectant mood prevails. Coffee warms, energizes.
A hour passes. Rumors that the gate has been closed sweep through the crowd. I follow streaming masses through tunnel to opposite side of the mall. A similar situation prevails. Coffee now warming only my bladder.
Eventually the Silver Gate is located. The line twists around the block. Then another. Then another. Then a few more. Then it goes under some train tracks. Then into a large square. Then into a parking lot. Eventually placing me here.
The capital is now in sight! Morale remains high. Bladder sealed by superego.
Time passes. Line begins inching forward. I proceed one block before the line is split in two under questionable authority of volunteer organizers. I choose the more rebellious line. The organizers want us to go one way--we go another. Somehow this works. We are at the Silver Gate. My bag of papers and nuts is searched, but no one asks for a ticket.
This is ironic. Apparently many ticket holders never actually got onto the Mall because of confusion over where to go and how to get there. The purple ticket holders, of which Haylee was one, were particulary screwed, spending four hours in a fetid tunnel and never actually seeing the ceremony! People are not happy.
Finally make it onto the Mall. Begin inching forward through the crowd, a process that will culminate at the Reflecting Pool.
Wait. Wait a lot. Loose feeling in toes. Eat nuts. Befriend others, only to then inch past them and befriend other others. Endless musical prelude. Then it begins!
Rick Warren: Lame. Next book should be called "the purposeless speech".
Aretha: AWESOME
Roberts: Can't read, apparently
Obama: Adequate speech, ticked all the boxes but not one of his best. Sounded good, though. Presidential.
Poem: Embarassing for all involved.
Benediction: Funny and left-leaning!
Back to Dupont on foot. All of DC packed with enthusiasts. Begin to hate humanity. Hot toddies all around. Schnitzel. Chillax.
I am greeted in Washington by a giant inflatable Bush presiding over a pile of old shoes in Dupont Circle. I and others are invited to pelt the effigy with said shoes. I do so with enthusiasm.
I then meet various groupings of friends/acquaintances/randos in various places: a Southern pool hall, a Stevie Wonder dance party, Ben's Chili Bowl. It is very nice to see them. I drink, inevitably, an Obamatini. Or several.
Then two good things happen. Crystal let's me sleep on her couch in Dupont, saving me a trip to the 'burbs. Oriana offers me a much-sought ticket to the inauguration ceremony, and even comes across town to deliver it. I know such nice people. Must remember to bring them luxe chocolates from Switzerland.Today, awake at 6. Out the door by 6:30. No one I know has the same color ticket as me so I am a lone wolf, quick and ruthless. Acquire coffee, selection of unsalted nuts, yogurt parfait, newspapers. Decide to take metro to the Mall. One train comes, full, no one gets on. Another comes, full, no one gets on--except me. There's always room for one more.
Arrive at Judiciary Square to this:
Information is sparse, contradictory. No one seems to be in charge. I know I must pass through a gate, but cannot locate gate nor path to gate. Despite confusion, a happy, expectant mood prevails. Coffee warms, energizes.A hour passes. Rumors that the gate has been closed sweep through the crowd. I follow streaming masses through tunnel to opposite side of the mall. A similar situation prevails. Coffee now warming only my bladder.
Eventually the Silver Gate is located. The line twists around the block. Then another. Then another. Then a few more. Then it goes under some train tracks. Then into a large square. Then into a parking lot. Eventually placing me here.
The capital is now in sight! Morale remains high. Bladder sealed by superego.
Time passes. Line begins inching forward. I proceed one block before the line is split in two under questionable authority of volunteer organizers. I choose the more rebellious line. The organizers want us to go one way--we go another. Somehow this works. We are at the Silver Gate. My bag of papers and nuts is searched, but no one asks for a ticket.
This is ironic. Apparently many ticket holders never actually got onto the Mall because of confusion over where to go and how to get there. The purple ticket holders, of which Haylee was one, were particulary screwed, spending four hours in a fetid tunnel and never actually seeing the ceremony! People are not happy.
Finally make it onto the Mall. Begin inching forward through the crowd, a process that will culminate at the Reflecting Pool.
Wait. Wait a lot. Loose feeling in toes. Eat nuts. Befriend others, only to then inch past them and befriend other others. Endless musical prelude. Then it begins!
Rick Warren: Lame. Next book should be called "the purposeless speech".
Aretha: AWESOME
Roberts: Can't read, apparently
Obama: Adequate speech, ticked all the boxes but not one of his best. Sounded good, though. Presidential.Poem: Embarassing for all involved.
Benediction: Funny and left-leaning!
Back to Dupont on foot. All of DC packed with enthusiasts. Begin to hate humanity. Hot toddies all around. Schnitzel. Chillax.
Frozen with Hope, Part I
Today I watched the country inaugurate Barack Hussein Obama as our 44th president. After the extended campaign, the election hoopla, and the vigorous transition period, in some ways the event felt more like an end than a beginning. People who support Obama have made him the favored vessel of our hopes and promises for almost two years. But now we are going to have to leave the gratifying, at times self-righteous world of ideas and rhetoric and get down to the messy business of policymaking. It won't be fun over the next 4-8 years to put our ideals through the sausage-grinder of politics. It will be hard to learn to criticize such an exceptional human being. So many people on the Mall today, a great many of them African-American, were so genuinely moved by what they saw, so authentically hopeful, that the coming compromises and falters are going to be especially bitter.
Would it be better if Obama never actually governend, and so could live forever as an untarnished ideal? Think about the past leaders he is most often compared to: Lincoln, Kennedy, King. Their acheivements secured their place in history, but it was their martydom that sealed their legacies in our minds. God forbid such a thing should happen again. Still, there is something powerful left in the void of a political project cut short or othewise unrealized. Never given a chance to be corrupted, it gains a higher status in our minds.
I want for Obama the trials and disappointments of a long political career, not the eternal glow of the martyr. But I'm not sure how many of his other supporters agree. Of course they don't want to see him harmed, but I think if they were given a choice between an ideal they could treasure for the rest of their lives and a living, breathing man who will make some improvements to their lives even as he dissapoints and deceives them, they would choose the ideal. Maybe Obama can be both. He is certainly going to try to be both. I wish him luck.
Would it be better if Obama never actually governend, and so could live forever as an untarnished ideal? Think about the past leaders he is most often compared to: Lincoln, Kennedy, King. Their acheivements secured their place in history, but it was their martydom that sealed their legacies in our minds. God forbid such a thing should happen again. Still, there is something powerful left in the void of a political project cut short or othewise unrealized. Never given a chance to be corrupted, it gains a higher status in our minds.
I want for Obama the trials and disappointments of a long political career, not the eternal glow of the martyr. But I'm not sure how many of his other supporters agree. Of course they don't want to see him harmed, but I think if they were given a choice between an ideal they could treasure for the rest of their lives and a living, breathing man who will make some improvements to their lives even as he dissapoints and deceives them, they would choose the ideal. Maybe Obama can be both. He is certainly going to try to be both. I wish him luck.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Save the Seakitties
PETA's new campaign: don't eat fish because they are the kittens of the sea. REALLY.
On the website you can read stories about sea kitties. Or you can design your own. Here is mine:
I am....speechless...I will make just one comment on this re-branding effort:CATS EAT FISH!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
2008: So great. 2009: so fiiiiiiiiiine
Let the record show that 2009 began with:
Sensible knitwear
Haunch
Costumes
Sheyam?
Flames
SMDH: Fire and Ice Edition
Beaver
Stumps
Nice cooperative games
Vigorous walks / DIY jacuzzi
Sepia-tinged romance
General carousing
Lovely people
Sensible knitwear
Haunch
Costumes
Sheyam?
Flames
SMDH: Fire and Ice Edition
Beaver
Stumps
Nice cooperative games
Vigorous walks / DIY jacuzzi
Sepia-tinged romance
General carousing
Lovely people
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