I know you’re not supposed to formally review a play your friends class put on for a single performance at the end of a semester. But given all the blogging sh*t that goes, I feel I should point to something worthwhile. And The Peculiar City of Wholman Lunk is an excellent play from a rising talent.
In a sense, every cemetery is virtual, because we bury cadavers in graveyards, not people. As Mary Roach says of her experiences after her mother’s death, “My mom was never a cadaver; no person ever is. You are a person and then you cease to be a person, and a cadaver takes your place. My mother was gone. The cadaver was her hull.”
As we walk the paths of a cemetery, we interact with the dead through our personal cognitive interface with the person. The site is merely a liminal space that allows us to step out of our everyday lives and into the world of that relationship. All the same, the Internet abounds in all kinds of opportunities to wander through a graveyard, for all the complicated reasons that people do so. [Read more →]
This morning I woke up to find my daughter sitting at the kitchen table in her bikini, dipping mini marshmallows in maple syrup. No, she wasn’t alone. She didn’t get up and do something cute like fix herself breakfast. Grandma did! [Read more →]
Although the Jimmy Fallon character in “Fever Pitch” was a caricature of the die hard Red Sox Nation citizen — his team loyalty vying with his love interest for his time and heart — a weekend I recently spent in Washington, D.C., gave me to believe his zealotry may have been only slightly exaggerated. [Read more →]
To begin, I apologize for lacking the umlauts needed to address this topic properly. I believe Da Ali G Show is the third best thing HBO’s given the world after The Sopranos and the first season of Flight of the Conchords. I’m a big fan of Borat, though I don’t think it compares to the highlights of the TV show. I thought Bruno was a complete waste of my time, even allowing for the fact I saw it at a bargain matinee screening for six bucks (by Manhattan standards, that qualifies as free). Why the diminishing returns from Sacha Baron Cohen, which apparently other people are also sensing since this movie looks to make half the money of its predecessor despite twice the initial hype? In no particular order:
April 13, 2009
I dream I am still in school and the teacher is having students with crystal wine glasses attached to their heads communicate by tapping the glasses with little sticks. The teacher has to leave for a few minutes and we see that the entire school is leaving. Most people start filing out, and I’m curious about what’s going on. Evidently, there had been a presentation on the Nazi holocaust in the auditorium and students were tired of hearing about it. A young man comes to the room with an elaborate visual aid which, by manipulating its many flaps, can change a Star of David into a swastika.
I’ve read my share of horrifying nonfiction these last couple of years, including books about the Soviet Gulag, the fire-bombing of Dresden, and the atomic bombing of Japan. All contain gruesome details of intense human suffering. And none of them is quite as haunting — as immediate and violent — as Iris Chang’s The Rape of Nanking. Rough stuff. [Read more →]
One would think that the author of the international bestseller “Me and God” would have a better answer to a philosophical inquiry about the afterlife than “Hell is other people.” But reclusive author Arlen Faber (Jeff Daniels) is more misanthrope than spiritual guide, or so it seems. While the plot of The Answer Man is a bit too predictable, the characters are quirky and likeable and the sparkling performances of leads Jeff Daniels and Lauren Graham are hard to resist. [Read more →]
Strange visions can come to us late in the night. Yesterday I beheld a TV commercial that was so bizarre it felt like a dream. The scene was as follows: a woman was travelling on the moving walkway in an airport, looking robust, cheerful and confident — rather like the heroine of a Soviet propaganda film. She passed under an image of her own face when suddenly another woman ran up to her and declared:
WOMAN: You’re the colon lady!
This is a great time of year for a simple, heirloom lettuce salad. Heirlooms are special because they are grown from seeds which have been around for decades at least, and sometimes for hundreds of years. They have been neglected by the big American factory farms because they require a little more care than mass produced varieties, but with the renewed interest in small family farms, these heirlooms are making a big comeback. Once you get them home, all you need is a little extra virgin and a squeeze of lemon to dress them. Unlike much of the lettuce that you buy at the grocery store, this lettuce actually tastes like something and is full of nutrients. An heirloom lettuce salad with a ripe, locally-grown tomato is the perfect weeknight side dish. Serve it alongside my recipe (below) for Orecchiette pasta with cauliflower and bacon;
In the late 18th century, a fabulous new scientific oddity was the toast of Europe. The Turk, a chess-playing automaton built by Wolfgang von Kempelen, was defeating chess masters across Europe. It was a true marvel of the times — a machine, built after the fashion of a Turkish ruler, that was capable of thought. Built for the amusement of Empress Maria Theresa of Hungary, it played chess, the game of kings, against rulers and commoners alike. In 1808, it played its most famous foe, Napoleon Bonaparte. The Turk was eventually retired, sold, and was destroyed in a fire at Peale’s Chinese Museum in Philadelphia in 1854. But what was the secret behind this machine that dazzled royalty and astounded the court machinicians? Robert Lohr devises a tale for The Turk full of intrigue and heartbreak in his novel, The Chess Machine. [Read more →]
Ed. Surprise, surprise. Can you sense the sarcasm? Last night’s Bachelorette finale confirmed a few things for me:
1) Jillian Harris is THE worst kisser on the face of the Earth.
2) We know what Jillian is going to look like in 50 years… her Grandmother.
3) I thought I had seen Ed’s balls the first time he wore the shnorty shnorts. I definitely saw them last night.
4) Ed has a tank top to match his shnorts.
5) The Bachelorette is the most predictable show ever made and a complete waste of my time. [Read more →]
The poet Frank O’Hara’s friend Joe LeSueur tells the story somewhere — I’m pretty sure it’s in Digressions on Some Poems by Frank O’Hara — that after O’Hara’s memorial service in Greenwich Village, the composer Ned Rorem invited everyone in attendance back to his apartment. Impressed by how smoothly Rorem handled matters, LeSueur took a moment to compliment and thank him. According to LeSueur, Rorem leaned over and murmured, “You must understand, I don’t feel things deeply.” [Read more →]
Confronted with a dilemma that begs for remedying, the instructive aphorism goes: get to the root of the problem. This cliche adage of deracination implies that the most efficient way to correct any issue is not to pluck minor branches or leaves, but to uproot the plant all together — to not treat the ailments, but the sickness itself.
There is a word that categorizes this philosophical bent toward problem-solving. It’s called radicalism, and the word’s connotations have undergone a transformation during it’s timeline of etymology. When spoken, it is often thought of as a brazen and irreverent worldview that aims to pick-apart orthodoxy whenever possible — just because it can. [Read more →]
At a press conference this week for the SEC Media Day, Tim Tebow, the Heisman-winning quarterback from the University of Florida, was asked if he was a virgin. If you are not familiar with Tebow, that might seem like the oddest question you have ever heard of from a football press conference. [Read more →]
10. His above-seat air blower was busted and he felt really really warm.
9. He’d accidently put on his X-Ray Specs that morning, then got confused about what was acceptable.
8. He felt inspired by the in-flight movie: The Full Monty.
7. He’d been smacked in the shins by the food cart so many times, he thought this was the best way to get really noticed.
6. He heard airline stewardesses were “easy.”
5. He’d had six pre-flight cocktails too many.
4. He’s so hairy, he thought people would just think he was wearing a brown suit.
3. He’d read about that new Homeland Security camera that can see through clothes, and he thought he’d save them the trouble.
2. The PA system was so bad, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to “return to its full upright and locked position.”
1. When the sign said it was okay to unbuckle his seat belt, he did, and then just got carried away.
Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.
For the record, I know how Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates felt — just a little bit — when he was arrested by white police officers for the crime of answering the door in his own home. By now the facts and meaning of Gates’ arrest have become an international incident viewed through the prism of race and resentment, especially after President Barack Obama used the words “acted stupidly” to describe the behavior of the Cambridge, Mass. police in the Gates’ house arrest. Such is the power of race in America to distort and magnify every issue. [Read more →]
Paula: I am curious to have your take on the recent incident in which Henry Louis Gates, the Harvard professor of African-American Studies, was arrested by the Cambridge police as he tried to push open the door of his home, which was stuck, after returning from a business trip. I am unsure as to whether he was arrested because he was suspected of breaking into the home or whether he became disorderly when he thought he was being accused of doing this.
Whatever actually happened, the police officer involved clearly pushed Gates’s buttons. [Read more →]
Evvery year tons of cool movies slip through the non-mainstream theaters unnoticed. Many of these movies are good, but have a narrower range of appeal than say Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. When I was an undergraduate back at Drexel I used to review those “Ritz” movies all the time. Now, if I see two a year I’m thrilled. Moon starring Sam Rockwell is one such movie. [Read more →]
Dear Ruby,
A question in the form of a haiku:
Nice to work lady
Now she talks to me all day
Want her to stop please
Regards, Johan [Read more →]
Do you suffer from what my husband calls Pollyannoia, the irrational belief that no one is out to get you? Both this coinage and pronoia, the official term for this condition, are modeled on “paranoia,” the opposite affliction. You see little pronoia on the Internet, where, as Hesiod said, Strife rules and “potter hates potter … beggar strives with beggar and poet with poet.” On Avenue Q they say “The Internet is for porn,” but I think it’s actually for conspiracies fueled by Strife. The medium lends itself to sparking tiny flames amid the unsuspecting and blowing gently on the fragile human tinder beneath until they are engulfed in the resulting bonfire.
In a sense, conspiracies are built into the genetic structure of the Internet. [Read more →]
The other day my husband took our 3-year-old son to a water park. Most people, when they go to water parks, leave their electronic devices in some kind of locker. My husband decided to take his with him as they walked through the park. At one of the “rides” where the little kids run around in the water my husband tried to get in front of our son to take a picture with his cell phone and he fell. He was fine; his phone submerged. [Read more →]
David Ignatius wrote this book before the eruption of street protests in response to the rigged elections in Iran and the Iranian government’s subsequent violent crackdown on the protestors.
The Increment (Norton), a political novel as much as it is a spy thriller, concerns an Iranian scientist, “Dr Ali,” who contacts the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) via their public web site and offers to provide information about Iran’s nuclear program. [Read more →]
In keeping with tradition, here’s a nugget of information about me: I don’t wanna have a play date. I am formally announcing my withdrawal from this hideous tradition. Now it’s one thing to get together with my friends and let our kids kill each other while we suck down Bellini’s and talk about college and all the dumb shit we did. [Read more →]
Last night, I left NY and made my way to the event of all events, where anybody who’s anybody will be… San Diego Comic-Con, aka, Nerd Prom. Sweet. The best part of my journey so far? Being able to watch So You Think You Can Dance on my JetBlue flight. Not only did this entertain me for 2 hours on my 6+ hour flight, I got to enjoy it with mini bottles of water (I mean wine) and free baggies of cashews and 100 calorie Lorna Doone shortbread cookies (I mean Doritos Munchie mix and chocolate chip cookies). With no access to pause and FFW, I had to watch in full and it made me remember a few things:
The hearings on the Supreme Court nomination of Sonia Sotomayor have been depressingly familiar in certain respects, even if the outcome is predictable. The whole spectacle is reminiscent of hearings past and prefigures those still to come as a blend of grandstanding, stonewalling, and humbug. [Read more →]
A 79-year-old woman is not the ideal guardian for three young children, particularly when she’s married to Joe Jackson. Yet Katherine Jackson gets the edge from most people over Debbie Rowe, just because Debbie has no biological connection to one of the children and no apparent interest in any of them, based on the fact in an email she poised the question to herself, “Do I want the kids?” and helpfully answered, “Hell no.” (Incidentally, may this serve as a reminder to all of us to ask, “Have I engaged in blatant self-incrimination in this email?” before hitting send.) With reports swirling that Debbie demanded the Jacksons give her an additional $4 million after deciding an initial settlement of a Beverly Hills mansion, a $5 million lump sum, and several annual payments of $900,000 weren’t enough compensation for what has already been a sensationally profitable uterus, the leaked emails reveal a new insight into Debbie: she’s a good friend. [Read more →]
The story of what happened this week to Erin Andrews, an ESPN reporter, has been splashed all over the internet. I left it out of my Bad Sports, Good Sports column because I didn’t yet have the full details, and considered it only very loosely sports-related. I feel like I am not being fair to say nothing about it, though. If you were not aware, she was filmed sans clothing in her hotel room via a peep hole of some sort. [Read more →]
May 19, 2009
I dream I hear a big ruckus in Daniel’s room. My mother and father are in there and making a big fuss over him. His room is beautifully furnished and filled with elegant, swirling curtains, some red and some black. They stage arguments in different costumes in front of different combinations of curtains. I feel neglected. I try to create a scene of my own in which I eat chicken wings and throw them at my mother.
This omnibus contains various mini-series featuring Barry Ween, a ten-year-old with an IQ of 350. The adventures are full of funny instances, classic science fiction plots, and tons of dirty language. I highly endorse this piece of art. [Read more →]
