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George Goes to Guatemala

President Bush’s whirlwind tour of Latin America is proving that his legion of Secret Servicemen really can’t take him anywhere (exasperated sigh!). Yesterday, the President of Guatemala welcomed Bush with criticism of the US’s deportation of migrant workers, while demonstrators burned American flags and hurled stones at riot police. And at a Mayan spiritual site that Bush visited, hundreds of indigenous protesters attempted to block the road with boulders. Said a Mayan leader, “We can’t have a man who represents war come to this place.” That’s our Bush: Turning Mayans into peaceniks.

The Bush Administration asserts that nemesis Hugo Chavez of Venezuela (who famously called Bush “the Devil” in front of the United Nations) is organizing the protests that have plagued Bush’s weeklong trip. Maybe so, but a detail in the NYTimes article makes me wonder if Guatemala’s anger needs coercion: “Local people picked up the kernels of corn that had been thrown on the ground as part of the welcome of Mr. Bush… they did not want the food to go to waste.”

Posted in In the News.

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Movie Review:The Lives of Others

This much-lauded German film (Das Leben der Anderen) hardly needs my kudos. It swept both the European Film Awards and the German Film Awards, and it won the Best Foreign Language Oscar – an instant tipoff that it’s exponentially better than whatever movie won the Best Picture Oscar. (The Departed had fortuitous industry politics working in its favor; The Lives of Others had universal global acclaim.)

If great cinema is built on themes that can be neatly encapsulated in blocks of -isms, well, The Lives of Others seamlessly deals with more than I can name: Altruism, authoritarianism, heroism, erotism, voyeurism, socialism, moralism, intellectualism, and optimism.

Last but not least, the anachronism: How can a movie packed with so many heady concepts be so goddamn entertaining, and be about East Germany’s secret police squad (the Stasi – such a fun word to say, so rare the opportunity to contextually say it)? It makes The Departed look like a tedious redundant mob flick, and Hollywood look like an ebbing cultural force.

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The Final Ski

It’s been quite a winter for this fledging second-year cross-country skiing student: I laughed, I screamed, I froze, I sweated, and I ate countless makeshift sandwiches in so many warming huts. But did I learn anything? Since my weekends will be occupied by various southbound excursions well into April, last Saturday was this season’s final exam.

Our journey to Windblown XC in southern NH was timed precisely for a 2pm arrival to take advantage of reduced admission and reduced crowds (by then, most of the morning skiers are ready for a nap or a beer). It was warm and sunless, and the snow was soggy but not melting. We glided to Barrett Mountain (“mountain” is a relative term – it’s more a big hill), which features a wide, steep, alpine-style slope that intersects with several zig-zagging traditional trails. My exam: To make it down Barrett without falling. Failure would result in self-loathing and, in all probability, a broken leg.

We huffed and puffed through unforgiving slush to the summit – 20 minutes of killer cardio. The view at the top of Barrett is just impressive enough to dawdle over while gathering up nerve, but soon it was time to face the colossal downhill. “Schuss!” Mr. Pinault sang, his 33 years of skiing experience allowing him to gracefully weave and dance down the slope.

I stared down the slope. Strangely, I didn’t dread it. I didn’t think “I am going to crash spectacularly.” I didn’t consider removing my skis so I could walk. Instead, I… “Weeeeeee!”

My full-throttle snowplow shaking against the velocity of my descent, I flew. And I remained upright. And judging by the stunned faces of the ascending skiers who yielded to my uncontrollable blaze, I was amazing.

Until next year, my twiggy little skis…

Checking to See If I'm Alive

Posted in Existence.

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The $42,000 Purse: Gomorrean Excessory

Last week’s launch of the Louis Vuitton Tribute Patchwork bag (pictured right) sent twitters through the world of shoulder fashion. Twitters… of disgust.

At $42,000, this motley caboodle of 15 other Louis Vuitton bags from the spring and summer collections is not only the world’s most costly handbag, it’s also the most exclusive, sold to select LV clientele to ensure it remains a “rare collector’s item, handmade in a strictly limited, numbered edition”.

Louis Vuitton insiders further assert the Tribute Patchwork bag’s exclusivity by claiming it is impervious to counterfeiting. Not only is the intricate assemblage of 15 bags difficult to clone, there’s just no demand for counterfeits of this hellborn hand-bag beast. For the first time ever in fashion, sheer ugliness outweighs status appeal.

Among purse-oriented blogs, the Tribute Patchwork bag garners a resounding Ew, that’s so fugly and so not ergonomic. The Purse Page declares it a “fiasco”, while the Bag Snob wonders if the “tribute” is to designer Marc Jacobs’ insanity. I’m surprised no one points out the obvious quandary that such a purse poses: Matching shoes. I mean, that was my first thought.

Posted in Americana.

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Tales from the Rails

A few weeks ago, I bragged about how I hardly ever get sick. Obviously my pomposity incurred the wrath of some God who wanted to punish my mortal conceit by visiting upon my nasal cavities bearing sickness (and leaving behind a gallon of ambrosia.)

Yes, I have a head cold. It’s all in my head, literally. Total hearing loss prompted me to take an over-the-counter decongestant during my lunch break yesterday. The box should have had a warning – DO NOT WRITE DOCUMENTATION AFTER TAKING THIS MEDICINE – because it made me skittish, almost frantic.

All of this has nothing to do with the commuter rail, except these nasal difficulties landed me on the 2:40pm train home, where I snagged a single seat near the door and spaced out over an open newspaper. About two minutes out of the station, the conductor began taking tickets when a large African-American man bundled in layers of sportswear approached him.

“Hey, just wanted to let you know that it smells real bad like sardines in here,” he told the conductor, gesturing. “Just wanted to let you know, in case it’s the terrorists.”

The conductor, an older white man with a slight gut and dripping South Shore accent – a walking MBTA stereotype, really – stared at him. “I can’t tell if you’re crazy or cheeky.” He turned away and continued taking tickets.

“Usually I can tell if they’re crazy” the conductor said, ostensibly to the man whose ticket he punched. The crazy and/or cheeky man said nothing and returned to his seat. And me with my nasal congestion, I was left wondering if the train car really did smell like sardines.

Posted in Existence.

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Coca-Cola’s Soda Coda

Like many junk food peddlers these days, Coca-Cola is reeling from the fallout of the consumer realization that ingesting massive amounts of sugar and chemicals is detrimental to their health and well-being. To keep profits as fat as their stalwart customers, Coca-cola is scrambling to cater to the non-alcoholic beverage needs of the nutrition-savvy marketplace (here.) Maybe it happened something like this…

Coca-Cola Marketer #1: Ok, strategy number 1 is to push back against all this Type A Diabetes and obesity hoop-la by spurting a bunch of McBullshit McRhetoric that flies in the face of all sound nutritional advice.

CCM #2: We need to fight against high-fructose corn syrup’s bad rep, and promote that it’s not actuallyhigh in fructose. Let’s start an exercise initiative and get a bevy of Coke-chugging athletes on board.

CCM #3: “Learn the importance of balancing the delicious, refreshing calories you consume with the calories you burn.”

CCM #1: I don’t buy all this learning and balancing shit. I mean, how are I going to enjoy my frigging soda if I’m busy calculating my penance on the treadmill. Can’t anything be enjoyable these days?

CCM #2: We need to appeal to what the consumer wants to believe, that moderate amounts of soda can’t hurt and their 64-ounce, 800 calorie Big Gulp falls within the USDA-approved range of a discretionary treat.

CCM #3: “A low-sodium mainstay of American life. Soda has been around for decades – you’ve only been obese since 1990.”

CCM #1: Shit. Strategy 1 ain’t going to fly. Let’s move on to strategy number 2. We abandon the men and fatties sailing on the goodship sugar-pop, and direct all the women, children, and metrosexuals onto the wellness lifeboats.

CCM #2: We can no longer rely on the expanding market share of existing diet product lines. There’s too much in the media about how artificial sweeteners actually make people fatter, and cause tumors, cancer, blah blah blah. The educated health-conscious consumer wants something more than ‘no calories.’

CCM #3: “A revolution in refreshment: the healthy soda.”

CCM #1: (snorts) Come on, not even the most delusional, gullible gastric-bypass surgery candidate’s gonna believe that anything called ‘soda’ is healthy.

CCM #2: It needs to sounds natural, like it once flowed in an aquifer. It needs to sound superior to juice. And we need to use the word ‘antioxidant.’ The average consumer thinks antioxidants flush fat and toxins out of their bodies.

CCM #3: (deep breath) “Zero-calorie sparkling refreshment fortified with vitamins and minerals and infused with antioxidants that tastes great.”

CCM #1: (whistling) Not bad. Fucking fortified with buzzwords, that was it is! I’m sure development can manufacture something resembling this… this… hey, what do we call this stuff?

CCM #2: We need a name that says ‘this beverage is sexy, fun, and contains vitamins B3, B6 and E, and chromium.’

CCM #3: Well, um, you know I used to work at a big pharm firm, and when we were specing out an obesity drug that was never launched because it caused constant diarrhea, we played around with a name that I sort of like: Tava.

CCM #1: Tava! Like Tab with vitamins! Damn, I could use a Tab. (standing up) Anyone else?

CCM #2: No thanks. That stuff can take the paint off of a car. I’ll take a green tea.

CCM #3: (thinking out loud) “Sparkling Green Tea Tava”…

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Coca-Cola’s Soda Coda

Like many junk food peddlers these days, Coca-Cola is reeling from the fallout of the consumer realization that ingesting massive amounts of sugar and chemicals is detrimental to their health and well-being. To keep profits as fat as their stalwart customers, Coca-cola is scrambling to cater to the non-alcoholic beverage needs of the nutrition-savvy marketplace. Maybe it happened something like this…

Coca-Cola Marketer #1: Ok, strategy number 1 is to push back against all this Type A Diabetes and obesity hoop-la by spurting a bunch of McBullshit McRhetoric that flies in the face of all sound nutritional advice.

CCM #2: We need to fight against high-fructose corn syrup’s bad rep, and promote that it’s not actually high in fructose. Let’s start an exercise initiative and get a bevy of Coke-chugging athletes on board.

CCM #3: “Learn the importance of balancing the delicious, refreshing calories you consume with the calories you burn.”

CCM #1: I don’t buy all this learning and balancing shit. I mean, how are I going to enjoy my frigging soda if I’m busy calculating my penance on the treadmill. Can’t anything be enjoyable these days?

CCM #2: We need to appeal to what the consumer wants to believe, that moderate amounts of soda can’t hurt and their 64-ounce, 800 calorie Big Gulp falls within the USDA-approved range of a discretionary treat.

CCM #3: “A low-sodium mainstay of American life. Soda has been around for decades – you’ve only been obese since 1990.”

CCM #1: Shit. Strategy 1 ain’t going to fly. Let’s move on to strategy number 2. We abandon the men and fatties sailing on the goodship sugar-pop, and direct all the women, children, and metrosexuals onto the wellness lifeboats.

CCM #2: We can no longer rely on the expanding market share of existing diet product lines. There’s too much in the media about how artificial sweeteners actually make people fatter, and cause tumors, cancer, blah blah blah. The educated health-conscious consumer wants something more than ‘no calories.’

CCM #3: “A revolution in refreshment: the healthy soda.”

CCM #1: (snorts) Come on, not even the most delusional, gullible gastric-bypass surgery candidate’s gonna believe that anything called ‘soda’ is healthy.

CCM #2: It needs to sounds natural, like it once flowed in an aquifer. It needs to sound superior to juice. And we need to use the word ‘antioxidant.’ The average consumer thinks antioxidants flush fat and toxins out of their bodies.

CCM #3: (deep breath) “Zero-calorie sparkling refreshment fortified with vitamins and minerals and infused with antioxidants that tastes great.”

CCM #1: (whistling) Not bad. Fucking fortified with buzzwords, that was it is! I’m sure development can manufacture something resembling this… this… hey, what do we call this stuff?

CCM #2: We need a name that says ‘this beverage is sexy, fun, and contains vitamins B3, B6 and E, and chromium.’

CCM #3: Well, um, you know I used to work at a big pharm firm, and when we were specing out an obesity drug that was never launched because it caused constant diarrhea, we played around with a name that I sort of like: Tava.

CCM #1: Tava! Like Tab with vitamins! Damn, I could use a Tab. (standing up) Anyone else?

CCM #2: No thanks. That stuff can take the paint off of a car. I’ll take a green tea.

CCM #3: (thinking out loud) “Sparkling Green Tea Tava”…

RETRACTION

This morning Mr. Pinault and I were enjoying le petit dejeuner when some nice folks in suits rang the doorbell. They identified themselves as attorneys representing Pepsi-Cola North America (the refreshment beverage unit of PepsiCo Beverages and Foods North America, a division of PepsiCo, Inc). They were retained by PepsiCo specifically to inform me that my post on March 9 erroneously identified Tava to be marketed by Coca-cola, when it is, in fact, a PepsiCo product. After legally impelling me to write this retraction, they poured coffee on our croissants and gave each other high-5s.

Posted in Americana.

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The Chicanery of Cheney

In the aftermath of the bungled 2000 election, most Democrats expressed resigned acceptance. After a month of watching Floridians puzzle over dimpled chads and listening to Republicans gloat over the Nader effect, we wanted to move on with our lives. Even if we suspected Bush was a moronic puppet, obviously the men controlling his strings were able enough to make him dance. “Bush isn’t that great, but I’m sure he’s got great advisors,” many people said hopefully.

Sure, Dick Cheney was disturbing – his industry connections, academic failures, frantic draft evasion, DUI arrests, unscrupulous political career – but he comforted us nonetheless, especially in light of Bush’s lack of foreign policy experience – nay, foreign policy knowledge, or awareness of such things as foreign policy. I viewed Dick Cheney as the levee that would hold George Bush’s ocean of stupidity in check.

My optimism was vividly recalled when Mr. Pinault and I discussed France’s upcoming elections, in which Socialist Segolene Royal has a shot of becoming President. I am surprised that France, a country which prides itself on being a leader in foreign affairs, would consider such an inexperienced candidate who has made several notable blunders on the campaign trail. “The feeling in France is that she is surrounded by many capable people,” Mr. Pinault said. It brought a chill to my soul as I remembered “That’s what America thought about Bush!”

I have come to believe that Dick Cheney is an evil man. Whatever intelligence and experience he has is more suited to shady politic wrangling – as the NY Times pointed out, the recent Libby trial exposed “a man immersed in the kind of political pushback that is … the province of low-level political operatives, not the vice president of the United States” (here). And the only evidence we have that Dick Cheney has a heart is that it’s constantly failing.

A grassroots movement to impeach Bush and Cheney for high crimes and misdemeanors is currently sweeping small town meetings in Vermont (here). People have had enough of this Administration, but Democratic leaders are so focused on 2008 that they dare not do anything controversial. Maybe the Democratic party needs a few Dick Cheneys working under the covers to maneuver and manipulate and spin things to their advantage.

Posted in In the News.

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The Natick Natives Are Restless

After years of emotional debate, the Natick public school system has decided to stop using its controversial 50-year old nickname “Redmen” (here). Yes, beginning in 2008, Natick students will refer to themselves in a much more politically-correct fashion: The Redpeople.

Natick citizens are outraged — outraged — at the vanquishment of their beloved American Indian mascot. Pleaded one resident, “Where does freedom of speech begin and where does it end? ACLU where are you?” Please, save us, ACLU, from these fascistic school committees and their freedom-hating racial sensitivities. We’re checking our civil liberties at the door. Goodbye Natick Redmen… hello Natick Reds.

The Natick School Committee was swayed to drop the nickname after testimony by American Indians who declared the “Redmen” nickname to be demeaning, racist, and “as offensive as white men and yellow men.” Now there’s an idea: The Natick Whitemen. Give those whites a taste of their own racist medicine.

One former Natick athlete declared that the “blood he spilled on Memorial Field was red enough” to earn to his Redmen moniker, although it’s unclear if he also contracted smallpox, was forcibly resettled to barren farmland, and eventually starved to death.

Posted in Americana, In the News, Massachusetts.

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Cookie Monsters

It’s that time of year, when America’s cutest racketeers stake out prime public space with boxes of industrialized cookies, luring weak-willed adults who are defenseless against carefully-scripted sales pitches about how the Samoas are “yummy for the tummy” (here.)

The media is widely reporting that, starting this year, all the varieties of Girl Scout cookies are “nearly” trans-fat free (here), but that does little to curb the collective surge in our nation’s blood insulin. “It’s hard to know what’s sweeter, the girls or the cookies!” pooh-pooh patrons as they purchase peanut butter patties from those darling entrepreneurs. Um, the cookies, cause they can actually make you diabetic.

A co-worker/proud Girl Scout parent left 4 boxes of the coveted Thin Mints in the kitchenette this morning. By 5pm, 3 of the 4 boxes were devoured. In accordance with the Laws of Free Office Food (a theorum involving the interplay of Entitlement complexes, Hoarding mentalities, My Fair Share worries and Old-fashioned Stress Eating), the rate of Thin Mint consumption will accelerate as the number of cookies decreases, meaning the Thin Mints will be gone at precisely 9:55am tomorrow morning… save one, because no one ever wants to be the pig who nullifies the Free Office Food. The lone remaining Thin Mint will sit in the kitchenette all morning, mocking our unfettered indulgence.

Not mine, though – I’ve ignored the cookies, except to note their rapid disappearance. It’s not that I’m a health-nut purist who doesn’t find fatty sweets to be pleasurable and even beneficial to one’s health, but I’m just not a cookie person. If the Girls Scouts sold cakes… oh, I’d be a-gorging.

As I prepared my afternoon cup of coffee, a co-worker walked by. “Leave some for the rest of us, won’t you?” he said jovially, grabbing a Thin Mint. I was outraged to be accused of hogging cookies when I hadn’t touched one, and almost announced my virtous abstinence. But in the office environment, it’s much safer to be perceived as a glutton than a bitch. “It’s for a good cause, right?” I called out.

Posted in Americana, The 9 to 5.

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