Dad and Tundra Kat joined me in NYC for Christmas this year. It was a perfect holiday - a perfect Christmas in New York, too. We went to Tavern on the Green, saw the Rockettes, and had a drink at Grand Central Station (and saw the light show there). We walked FOREVER and I think we saw the Tree at Rock Center about four times.
The sidewalks were extraordinarily crowded. I went to Chicago last year for Christmas, so I didn't get the full NY effect, but holy God. We were by Sak's heading back to my apartment - I was following Dad, Tundra Kat was following me, and I slipped or tripped or bobbled or whatever, and the crowd kept me upright. Tundra caught my look - which read "Jesus, this must be what the Haaj is like!"
I'll leave it to y'all to figure out who's who - the Socialist, the Nihilist, and the Capitalist. :-)
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Three Days of the Condor
HBO's Signature Channel is showing "Three Days of the Condor" - a classic movie of all time, but made even more eerie and relevant today, just days before the fifth anniversary of 9/11. It's loaded with super-science of the '70s, including my personal favorites of old-timely wire tapping, where you actually had to tap into phone wires with a Bell line worker's hand-held plug-in phone, with that frigging rotary dial on the backside of the ear piece. He uses a cassette player to record the tone of a call placed from the assassin's phone, and calls in to Langley to get the digits. Then he calls another Langley office and gives the secret passcode to get the address for the number.
All of which today takes about .001 seconds, and is entirely electronic, and doesn't see the light of an analyst's eyeballs until or unless key words are actually muttered into the line. I won't repeat the key words here for fear Langley computers will deem me a "person of interest."
In another scene, Robert Redford breaks in to a CIA official's home and wakes him up by... you guessed it... cranking the Hi-Fi credenza stereo. C L A S S I C.
Some things are timeless. Cliff Robertson's massive comb-over is a contender for The Donald's ridiculous hair cap. Also timeless: Robert Redford uncovers a plot to invade the Middle East. Deja vu all over again.
Sadly, the "shit hits the fan" moment in the movie is when Redford tells Robertson that he gave the story to the New York Times. I guess that meant something in 1975. Although even then, Robertson implies that the power of the paper can be corrupted, and they may not print the story. It's interesting that the movie ends before you know if the story gets out. I guess people back then were just starting to wonder if the media really served the public trust or not. No such dilemma today.
As "liberal" became a bad word for Democrats, and "Christian" is becoming a bad word for Repulicans, will "consipiracy theory" become good words for the general public?
The times, they are a-changing.
All of which today takes about .001 seconds, and is entirely electronic, and doesn't see the light of an analyst's eyeballs until or unless key words are actually muttered into the line. I won't repeat the key words here for fear Langley computers will deem me a "person of interest."
In another scene, Robert Redford breaks in to a CIA official's home and wakes him up by... you guessed it... cranking the Hi-Fi credenza stereo. C L A S S I C.
Some things are timeless. Cliff Robertson's massive comb-over is a contender for The Donald's ridiculous hair cap. Also timeless: Robert Redford uncovers a plot to invade the Middle East. Deja vu all over again.
Sadly, the "shit hits the fan" moment in the movie is when Redford tells Robertson that he gave the story to the New York Times. I guess that meant something in 1975. Although even then, Robertson implies that the power of the paper can be corrupted, and they may not print the story. It's interesting that the movie ends before you know if the story gets out. I guess people back then were just starting to wonder if the media really served the public trust or not. No such dilemma today.
As "liberal" became a bad word for Democrats, and "Christian" is becoming a bad word for Repulicans, will "consipiracy theory" become good words for the general public?
The times, they are a-changing.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
The Italy Dream Continues
So I'm talking to one of our corporate lawyers today about random things (he's in charge of our document retention program, so 90% of our conversation by necessity has to morph into other things just to Retain Our Sanity)... and he has family in Italy, so we naturally started talking about restaurants in Rome that I *must* try. I'm totally game.
My dream.. my goal is to live in Italy some day. I love Italy -and I will live in Rome. I want a little flat close to the Spanish Steps and I want to lead English-speaking tours of the antiquity sites. I want to make enough money for food - I hope to save and invest enough money now to buy the flat and maybe fly home once a year.
Anyway... the working-in-Italy sites are pretty serious. It's not so easy just landing in Rome and getting a job. Whatever. I will do it. Unless I get a better offer, of course. But this year I will learn Italian. Getting the lawyer from Doc Retention to teach me the right pronunciation of Trastevere. (I used to say TRAS TEV ER E but it's really TRAS TE VER E - significant diff!)
I love walking the streets of Rome and getting lost in the maze and finding a store-front restaurant where you can have a 3 course meal for $25. With a caraffe of wine, too.
And I love the wine. You can order "vino rosa" by the glass at an outdoor table by the Piazza Navona for $4 and sit forever, watching the drama of life and, if you're lucky, chatting about it with someone next to you that doesn't need the backstory of what you're talking about (i.e. "Check it out - she is so Kelly." or "Did you know that the fountain has only one drain? It's in the fish's mouth - at the foot of Poisedan... oh wait, I already told you that."
So I'm thinking that I need to go back to Rome for a little visit. Just a week. Or so. Maybe 10 days.
But before Dad moves back to the Philippines (where he spent 2.25 years as a Peace Corps Volunteer), maybe I should visit Isreal with him. I've never been - he's never been - so maybe we should go and be agnostic together. I would love to see the sites from the Bible... I think anyone with a religious background and appreciation for the cultural history would like that.
I know I would.
So two weeks in Isreal in the fall! Yay! Travel plans resolved. For now. Before I move to Rome.
My dream.. my goal is to live in Italy some day. I love Italy -and I will live in Rome. I want a little flat close to the Spanish Steps and I want to lead English-speaking tours of the antiquity sites. I want to make enough money for food - I hope to save and invest enough money now to buy the flat and maybe fly home once a year.
Anyway... the working-in-Italy sites are pretty serious. It's not so easy just landing in Rome and getting a job. Whatever. I will do it. Unless I get a better offer, of course. But this year I will learn Italian. Getting the lawyer from Doc Retention to teach me the right pronunciation of Trastevere. (I used to say TRAS TEV ER E but it's really TRAS TE VER E - significant diff!)
I love walking the streets of Rome and getting lost in the maze and finding a store-front restaurant where you can have a 3 course meal for $25. With a caraffe of wine, too.
And I love the wine. You can order "vino rosa" by the glass at an outdoor table by the Piazza Navona for $4 and sit forever, watching the drama of life and, if you're lucky, chatting about it with someone next to you that doesn't need the backstory of what you're talking about (i.e. "Check it out - she is so Kelly." or "Did you know that the fountain has only one drain? It's in the fish's mouth - at the foot of Poisedan... oh wait, I already told you that."
So I'm thinking that I need to go back to Rome for a little visit. Just a week. Or so. Maybe 10 days.
But before Dad moves back to the Philippines (where he spent 2.25 years as a Peace Corps Volunteer), maybe I should visit Isreal with him. I've never been - he's never been - so maybe we should go and be agnostic together. I would love to see the sites from the Bible... I think anyone with a religious background and appreciation for the cultural history would like that.
I know I would.
So two weeks in Isreal in the fall! Yay! Travel plans resolved. For now. Before I move to Rome.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
6-6-06
Quote from CNN's "American Morning" today, on the hype that wasn't 6-6-06:
"Some people bet the world would end. It didn't!"
...
That's what I call "reporting the news."
...
How would you collect on that bet, anyway? And why can't I find the guy who would bet everything he owns that the world would end on 6-6-06? Damn.
"Some people bet the world would end. It didn't!"
...
That's what I call "reporting the news."
...
How would you collect on that bet, anyway? And why can't I find the guy who would bet everything he owns that the world would end on 6-6-06? Damn.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Just what you need when you're having a low job satisfaction day...
I wrote my friend Russ today about my Low Job Satisfaction (a temporary condition). I want to throw in the towel and go hitch-hiking in Europe. He's a genius. Here's what he wrote back:
I understand the job satisfaction issues. Look at it this way, let's suppose you went hitchhiking in Europe. At some point, you would sit down on some bench in France and look around you. And it would all hit you at once...
"Wait a minute. Everywhere I go, there's nothing but old buildings made out of old gray stone. Old gray stone here...old gray stone there. Old fountains not able to shoot water 100 feet in the air synchronized to music. Old churches not tolerant of Betsy (friend #1) and Lindsay's (friend #1's former girlfriend) lifestyle. Old art that's not even painted on bridge overpasses for everyone to see. Old people talking old languages that don't get your hip urban slang. Old gray cobblestone streets too narrow for shiny new SUVs. F Europe! And another thing...why the hell am I lugging all my crap around on my back to see all this old gray stuff? There are perfectly good car services at home to drive me and my crap wherever I want. And where are the Puerto Rican parades? I can't even get a damn hot dog or a hot pretzel from a cart around here! All this stinky European cheese has me constipated, and there's no Thai restaurant on every corner to help get things moving again. Where the hell are the knock-off handbags and sunglasses? I'm not paying four hundred Euros for a real Prada bag! What are you looking at Frenchie? I can talk out loud all I want! Go take a shower! And tell your girlfriend to shave her legs! She looks like a damn man. What? She is a man? If you're a man, why are you wearing a thong in a public park? Ohhhhh, because 'zat's perfectly naturale.' Of course! Where I come from you'd get your ass beat for that...and I'd laugh!" It's at this point the policia would ask you to take it easy. You would take a certain amount of pride in knowing you could whip that cop's ass though, him being such a Euro Nancy Boy. And then your eyes would glaze over as you smiled and thought about that time you saw a cop whip the shit out of those three homeless guys in Central Park with a Maglight just because they were sleeping too close to the restaurant's patio. And you'd be searching that backpack for that friggin' Eurorail pass to get you back to the airport so you could get back where you belong.
Aaaaaaaaand, scene.
Thank you.
I understand the job satisfaction issues. Look at it this way, let's suppose you went hitchhiking in Europe. At some point, you would sit down on some bench in France and look around you. And it would all hit you at once...
"Wait a minute. Everywhere I go, there's nothing but old buildings made out of old gray stone. Old gray stone here...old gray stone there. Old fountains not able to shoot water 100 feet in the air synchronized to music. Old churches not tolerant of Betsy (friend #1) and Lindsay's (friend #1's former girlfriend) lifestyle. Old art that's not even painted on bridge overpasses for everyone to see. Old people talking old languages that don't get your hip urban slang. Old gray cobblestone streets too narrow for shiny new SUVs. F Europe! And another thing...why the hell am I lugging all my crap around on my back to see all this old gray stuff? There are perfectly good car services at home to drive me and my crap wherever I want. And where are the Puerto Rican parades? I can't even get a damn hot dog or a hot pretzel from a cart around here! All this stinky European cheese has me constipated, and there's no Thai restaurant on every corner to help get things moving again. Where the hell are the knock-off handbags and sunglasses? I'm not paying four hundred Euros for a real Prada bag! What are you looking at Frenchie? I can talk out loud all I want! Go take a shower! And tell your girlfriend to shave her legs! She looks like a damn man. What? She is a man? If you're a man, why are you wearing a thong in a public park? Ohhhhh, because 'zat's perfectly naturale.' Of course! Where I come from you'd get your ass beat for that...and I'd laugh!" It's at this point the policia would ask you to take it easy. You would take a certain amount of pride in knowing you could whip that cop's ass though, him being such a Euro Nancy Boy. And then your eyes would glaze over as you smiled and thought about that time you saw a cop whip the shit out of those three homeless guys in Central Park with a Maglight just because they were sleeping too close to the restaurant's patio. And you'd be searching that backpack for that friggin' Eurorail pass to get you back to the airport so you could get back where you belong.
Aaaaaaaaand, scene.
Thank you.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Post-Enron...
I am going to save my New York Times edition covering the convinction of Kenneth Lay and Jeffrey Skilling. Had it been any other way, I would have burned all coverage and probably blown up my TV.
Read "Conspiracy of Fools" by Kurt Eichenwald. One of my favorite parts is the blasting of so-called whistle-blower Sherron Watkins. She wrote a memo about the funky accounting - I'll give her that much - but she was drinking heartily from the Enron well. She and everyone else in that lousy cesspool of a company were in it for themselves only. Now she's a motivational speaker. Can we all just stop buying tickets to Motivational Seminars, please? Send them to the island of misfits where they belong.
Another great part of the story Eichenwald tells is that, contrary to urban myth, Enron clones did not continue to buy shares in the company because Lay told them to (even while he was dumping his own shares to cover his massive personal financial mess). No - Enron Idiots were buying shares of their company because that's what Enron Idiots did - of course the stock would bounce back. After those nasty people at the Wall Street Journal stopped reporting on them.
Even with these two Robin Hood-ish storylines bashes, the story of Enron is so compelling. Rough Riders in the 21st Century - sheparding the new century in, for that matter - perhaps setting the stage for what's to come.
And then came WestJet. The start-up airline based in Western Canada finally stood up and admitted its actions regarding corporate espionage against Air Canada was "unethical and unacceptable." A couple of years late, and not enough leadership change, but it's something. At least they are clearing the air. And donating C$10 million to charity in both WestJet's and Air Canada's name.
Read "Conspiracy of Fools" by Kurt Eichenwald. One of my favorite parts is the blasting of so-called whistle-blower Sherron Watkins. She wrote a memo about the funky accounting - I'll give her that much - but she was drinking heartily from the Enron well. She and everyone else in that lousy cesspool of a company were in it for themselves only. Now she's a motivational speaker. Can we all just stop buying tickets to Motivational Seminars, please? Send them to the island of misfits where they belong.
Another great part of the story Eichenwald tells is that, contrary to urban myth, Enron clones did not continue to buy shares in the company because Lay told them to (even while he was dumping his own shares to cover his massive personal financial mess). No - Enron Idiots were buying shares of their company because that's what Enron Idiots did - of course the stock would bounce back. After those nasty people at the Wall Street Journal stopped reporting on them.
Even with these two Robin Hood-ish storylines bashes, the story of Enron is so compelling. Rough Riders in the 21st Century - sheparding the new century in, for that matter - perhaps setting the stage for what's to come.
And then came WestJet. The start-up airline based in Western Canada finally stood up and admitted its actions regarding corporate espionage against Air Canada was "unethical and unacceptable." A couple of years late, and not enough leadership change, but it's something. At least they are clearing the air. And donating C$10 million to charity in both WestJet's and Air Canada's name.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
My Love Affair with Snapple
I love Snapple. It's everywhere in NYC. My absolute favorite Snapple is Diet Lime Green Tea. I put my happy face on when I see it in stores and pizza joints. I don't see it nearly enough, so hello? Snapple? Are you listening? Truck this stuff IN, baby!
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Buy Insurance
Do not walk through this life without insurance.
Insure your life, your health, your car, your house. Insure yourself against short term disability. Hell, insure yourself against long term disability. Insure yourself against stupid purchases by purchasing everything at Neiman Marcus - they'll take anything back. Even stuff they don't sell. (Ever hear the story of some lame-ass who returned snow tires at Neiman Marcus? He got a credit. They don't sell snow tires.)
Insure yourself from boredom by traveling. Insure yourself from stupid people by not being one. Insure yourself from prejudice by opening your heart and mind to tolerance. Insure yourself from crappy service by being a nice patron. (Being a regular doesn't hurt, either.)
Insurance is a hedge against bad luck, downward market trends, bad luck, hateful people, bad luck and poor investments.
Insurance is your "get out of jail free" card - it's your "extra recess period" instead of "study hall" (Dad- never told you about this, but it happened on your watch) - it's your way of sayin' to the man: "F you - I got insurance, and they will kick your ass."
No lesson is learned without pain. I have pain. I have no insurance. Specifically, I have no insurance for the disaster I have experienced. Yet my disaster has given opportunity to my company to be even more upstanding and relevant and meaningful in my life. So it's all good.
'Cept for that damn insurance.
Go get yourself some.
Insure your life, your health, your car, your house. Insure yourself against short term disability. Hell, insure yourself against long term disability. Insure yourself against stupid purchases by purchasing everything at Neiman Marcus - they'll take anything back. Even stuff they don't sell. (Ever hear the story of some lame-ass who returned snow tires at Neiman Marcus? He got a credit. They don't sell snow tires.)
Insure yourself from boredom by traveling. Insure yourself from stupid people by not being one. Insure yourself from prejudice by opening your heart and mind to tolerance. Insure yourself from crappy service by being a nice patron. (Being a regular doesn't hurt, either.)
Insurance is a hedge against bad luck, downward market trends, bad luck, hateful people, bad luck and poor investments.
Insurance is your "get out of jail free" card - it's your "extra recess period" instead of "study hall" (Dad- never told you about this, but it happened on your watch) - it's your way of sayin' to the man: "F you - I got insurance, and they will kick your ass."
No lesson is learned without pain. I have pain. I have no insurance. Specifically, I have no insurance for the disaster I have experienced. Yet my disaster has given opportunity to my company to be even more upstanding and relevant and meaningful in my life. So it's all good.
'Cept for that damn insurance.
Go get yourself some.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Attitude is Everything
One of Dad's frequently annoying all-encompassing statements was, and possibly still is, "Attitude is Everything." I still roll my eyes when I hear it - even if the voice saying it is in my head.
One of the troubles at work is about attitude. Leaders think they need to *do* more than they *decide*. I say: Wrong! (Or as my brother would say to an Asian-American: "You're not right, you're Wong!" - and you politically correct can shove it...)
One of the troubles I am personally having is that I'm not fully experiencing the New York Experience. I work, I come home, I eat a tasty sandwich and I watch TV... while... working. I have this beautiful energetic city all around me and it's little more than a background to the life I imported from Atlanta. I should really work on making a New York life. The thing about New York is that it makes you start to want. You start to think, "I really should be *doing* something with my life." Like making a living working for a really cool company in the world's capital isn't enough. I swear, I'm starting to think Roseanne has a better sitcom life than my real one. I almost said "At least she's married" but the last thing I want is to be married. Especially to Dan Connors. Nice guy... but I don't want to live in Lanford.
So at least I'm already harboring secret plans for the day I *leave* the City. I'm thinking: Small New England town, small business in the city square, making enough to pay the cable bill and order from my favorite catalogs, living a secret life as a best-selling author who runs into the man of her dreams on the side of the road. I help him change a flat tire. Or he helps me change a flat tire. All I know is that one of us drives a beat-up Ford truck. I have no idea where that comes from.
One of the troubles at work is about attitude. Leaders think they need to *do* more than they *decide*. I say: Wrong! (Or as my brother would say to an Asian-American: "You're not right, you're Wong!" - and you politically correct can shove it...)
One of the troubles I am personally having is that I'm not fully experiencing the New York Experience. I work, I come home, I eat a tasty sandwich and I watch TV... while... working. I have this beautiful energetic city all around me and it's little more than a background to the life I imported from Atlanta. I should really work on making a New York life. The thing about New York is that it makes you start to want. You start to think, "I really should be *doing* something with my life." Like making a living working for a really cool company in the world's capital isn't enough. I swear, I'm starting to think Roseanne has a better sitcom life than my real one. I almost said "At least she's married" but the last thing I want is to be married. Especially to Dan Connors. Nice guy... but I don't want to live in Lanford.
So at least I'm already harboring secret plans for the day I *leave* the City. I'm thinking: Small New England town, small business in the city square, making enough to pay the cable bill and order from my favorite catalogs, living a secret life as a best-selling author who runs into the man of her dreams on the side of the road. I help him change a flat tire. Or he helps me change a flat tire. All I know is that one of us drives a beat-up Ford truck. I have no idea where that comes from.
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