Some good news for Mets fans.

It's looking less and less likely that we'll have to worry about another end-of-season collapse.

Downtown Manhattan: a study in architectural contrasts.

At the bottom center of this photo (taken from the Manhattan side ramp of the Brooklyn Bridge) is the upper portion of an architectural gem, identifiable by its circular windows near the top: the twenty five story 80 Maiden Lane, originally, when completed in 1912, called the "Fire Companies Building." 80 Maiden Lane was designed by Daniel H. Burnham, whose other great surviving New York commission is the Flatiron Building.

To my eye, Burnham's design for 80 Maiden Lane shows the influence of his fellow Chicagoan, Louis Sullivan, whose sole New York design is the graceful Bayard-Condict Building on Bleecker Street (photo at left).

Bracketing the visible portion of 80 Maiden Lane, but actually closer to the Bridge, on John Street, are two art deco office buildings exemplifying the "wedding cake" or "ziggurat" style that prevailed in New York from the early part of the twentieth century until the 1960s, when the zoning law was changed to encourage slender towers with adjoining plazas instead of buildings that took up the entire lot at their base and then had successive setbacks on upper stories to allow light to reach street level. The building toward the right of the photo is in the more ornate deco style prevalent in the 1920s and 30s, while that on the left is in the austere style typical of post-World War Two buildings.

On the right edge of the photo is the eastward facing facade of the neoclassical Royal Insurance Building, designed by Starrett and Van Vleck and completed in 1927. Behind, and looming over, 80 Maiden Lane is 60 Wall Street, now the U.S. headquarters of Deutsche Bank. This tower, designed by Kevin Roche, John Dinkeloo and Associates and completed in 1989, is typical of the "postmodern" style, incorporating neoclassical elements, that was typical of the last two decades of the twentieth century.

The one twenty-first century building visible in this photo is the garish chrome yellow residential condominium William Beaver House, a small part of which is seen above and to the right of 80 Maiden Lane.

Louise Crawford of OTBKB to teach blogging class.

If you're considering starting a blog, or have recently taken up blogging, and live in the New York City area, you may benefit from attending a class to be taught by Louise Crawford, of Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn. It will meet at the Brooklyn Arts Exchange ("BAX"), 421 Fifth Avenue (at 8th Street), in Park Slope, Brooklyn. The class will meet on three successive Wednesdays starting at 7:00 P.M., beginning tomorrow, April 29. The fee for all three sessions is $45.

I regret the short notice, but this is a sterling opportunity for novice or aspiring bloggers. Louise is to blogging what Emeril is to cooking.

Rooftops, Lower Manhattan

Taken from the Manhattan Bridge pedestrian walkway, April 25, 2009.

Headlights and The Love Language at the Bell House, Brooklyn, April 24

Last night my wife and I made our first visit to the Bell House, a night club and entertainment venue located in a former warehouse near Brooklyn's famous Gowanus Canal. We were hardly in the door when we were greeted by co-owner William Crane, a.k.a. Dick Swizzle. I told him we were there for the pre-nuptial party of our friends E.J. and Beth. He took us to where we got our hands stamped for free admission to the big room where the band The Love Language, from Wilmington, North Carolina, was playing. Their sound, compounded of R&B, country, and power-pop rock, was captivating, and (being a boomer) I was especially taken by their cover of Ricky Nelson's "Hello, Mary Lou", a less frenetic version of which you can hear on the band's MySpace page.

The headline act was Headlights, from Champaign, Illinois. Like TLL, this group draws on eclectic influences to produce a rich, energetic power pop sound. They have, however, even made an acoustic recording, with lovely harmonies, of the folk ballad "Come All Ye Fair and Tender Ladies", which you can hear here. The clip at the head of this post is of their encore from last night's performance, for which they invited TLL to join them on stage. The sound quality, I'm afraid, is not the best, partly because of the limitations of my little camera and partly because of the heavy reverberation in the cavernous room. Nevertheless, it captures some of the band's charismatic quality. You can hear recordings of Headlights on their MySpace page.

Update: Here's a clip of Headlights and The Love Language onstage together at the Doug Fir Lounge, Portland, Oregon, doing "Hello, Mary Lou":


The video is by secondstory. Thanks to Brett Sanderson of Headlights for the link.

Mediocrity, thy name is Mets.

Yeah, it's early. But, trust me, a loss in April counts just as much as a loss in September. I can't add much to what Jon Lewin of Subway Squawkers has to say about the current state of affairs, except that I love it that he grooves on Fibonacci sequences.

I'm posting this now in the hope that the Mets will confound me this evening.

Update: Confound me? Of course not.

Is AOL News the on-line National Enquirer?

Consider some of today's top stories:

Ex-astronaut claims government cover-up of truth about UFOs.

Florida woman attacked by wild hog.

Stripper assaulted with stiletto heel.

Bare-chested Barack.

Rice 'n' ribs from Augusta, GA in Brooklyn Heights

I saw this van parked on Columbia Heights at Cranberry Street this morning. I took the photo with plans to publish it on Brooklyn Heights Blog, but Homer beat me to the punch with a photo by Mrs. Fink. Nevertheless, I think mine is better, if for no other reason than having the advantage of better lighting.

I love Homer's explanation of the levels of meaning in this scene.

Charlie Gracie

When I was in sixth grade at Eglin Air Force Base in northwest Florida, we had "social dancing" in the combination dining room and auditorium every Wednesday afternoon. Tables and chairs would be folded and stacked against the walls, and the teacher would spin 45s on a portable record player. The music was a good cross section of top 40 hits of the time (1957-58): Elvis, of course; Fats Domino; the Everlys; Little Richard; Gale Storm singing "Dark Moon." One of the hits frequently played was a bouncy rocker called "Butterfly," sung by Andy Williams. Years later, I learned that Williams' version wasn't the original recording of this song. It was first done on the Cameo label, out of Philadelphia, by a fellow named Charlie Gracie. (Update: for more on Charlie Gracie, including a video of him singing "Butterfly", see here.)

In the summer of 2007, I caught a performance by Charlie, then 71, at the Roots of American Music Festival, held annually outdoors at Lincoln Center. He did an eclectic set that stressed his rockabilly roots, but included a jazzy instrumental version of "Tea for Two" as well as Havah Nagilah and, as a nod to his Italian ancestry, O Sole Mio. In the clip above, he does "I'm All Right", a song written by a friend of his as a tribute to the late Eddie Cochran.

T-Bird, early '60s vintage.

I saw this on my morning walk. Of course, it brought to mind this Beach Boys song:

Capt. Phillips rescued.

The good news has just broken that the U.S. Navy succeeded in rescuing Capt. Richard Phillips of the Maersk Alabama from his pirate captors.

Perhaps President Obama is enjoying the luck of his Irish ancestors, unlike President Jimmy Carter, whose attempt at freeing the hostages in Iran came a cropper.

4.13 update: See Gingrich, Beck, et al being foolish on ABC and Fox during the run-up to the rescue here (thanks to Rob Lenihan for the link).

Drat! Mets cursed.

Mets picked by Sports Illustrated to win the World Series.

Could any omen be worse?

Right now, they're one above .500, if anyone can make sense of reading those early season tea leaves.

Addendum: Elsewhere in S.I., one of my favorite baseball writers, Tim Marchman, has this scary analysis that gives substance to what, for me, have been inchoate thoughts about the team's direction under Wilpon ownership.

4.12 update: The Mets are down to .500 as Santana is tagged with a loss despite thirteen strikeouts because Murphy's error leads to two unearned runs, and the Marlins' Josh Johnson thwarts the offense.

Headline of the week:

"Atty Had to Lay Off Wife" (from the ABA Journal).

Update: From the same source, a clue as to why some lawyers may have to sleep alone.

Whale watching? Try Brooklyn.

Some twenty or so years ago, I was on the phone with a lawyer in Seattle who represented my then employer in some litigation. We were discussing the judge's decision on a motion, which had gone against us, when, in mid-sentence, he broke off and said, "Wow! I haven't seen this in years." "What?", I asked, thinking he had spotted something odd in the judge's opinion. "There's a whale in Seattle harbor", he replied.

Well, now it seems, there's a whale, a humpback (like that in the photo) in New York harbor, as reported (with WNBC video) in this post from Gawker. Since the critter was swimming in the Narrows, near the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, it could easily have been spotted from the promenade at Bay Ridge.

As the Gawker post points out, this isn't entirely happy news. New York harbor, because of its heavy ship traffic, isn't an ideal environment for whales.

Thanks to Tom Turner of NYC Maritime for the tip.

4.10 update: Nick's prayers (see comments) are answered, as WQXR reports that the whale is safely back in open ocean.

Mets win opener.

Starting their season on the road against Cincy, the Mets managed a 2-1 win. On the pitching side, the omens are encouraging. Santana went five and two thirds innings, yielding one run on three hits while striking out seven and walking four. The bullpen was unscathed for the remaining three and one third innings, covered by Green, Putz, and Rodriguez, who notched his first save as a Met. Defense was flawless save for one throwing error charged to Delgado. On offense, things looked disturbingly plus ça change: lots of runners stranded as Mets batters scattered nine hits. Both RBIs were by Murphy: one on a solo homer, the other on a groundout.

The Mets now have a 31-17 record for season openers. Fusspot fan that I am, I'm tempted to see an opening day win as a bad sign. History is equivocal: the 1969 "miracle" Mets opened with a loss to the expansion Montreal Expos, while the other World Series winning Mets (1986) started with a win over the Pirates.

Update: Yanks lose their opener, also on the road, to the Orioles, 10-5. Sabathia gets pounded in his first regular season start in pinstripes, giving up eight hits and six runs, with five walks and no strikeouts.

The late Tommy Butler, Lion's Head bartender and model for Big Zeus in Dermot McEvoy's Our Lady of Greenwich Village, who grew up a New York Giants fan, once said it took some years before he found a Mets win as satisfying as a Yankees loss.

4.8 update: Mets make it two in a row. This time, pitching is shaky but the bats come alive. Yanks lose again, as it's Wang's turn in the barrel.

4.9 update: Fortunes are reversed as Perez continues his exhibition game agonies by giving up eight runs, though the bullpen averts any further damage for the remaining four and two thirds innings. Result: Reds 8, Mets 6. Meanwhile, the Yanks get five plus strong innings (two runs allowed) from Burnett, a flawless bullpen for the remainder, and five RBIs from Nick Swisher, to crush the Orioles 11-2.

Lisa Swan loves Citi Field.

Lisa Swan, the (may I still use this term without being unforgivably un-P.C.?) distaff side of Subway Squawkers, and, unfortunately, the Yankees' side of same, likes the Mets' new digs. She also takes exception, as do I, to Mets fans booing Oliver Perez over a poor outing. Nevertheless, I'm compelled to point out that Yankee fans are not immune to the booing your own affliction.

Lisa notes that there's a "character greeting area" for Mr. Met (photo at left) at the new stadium, one of several things that, she says, it has in common with Disney World (another being personable employees). This mention of what I consider to be the most inane of baseball team mascots (and that's saying a lot) leads me to suggest that the Mets jettison the lame Meet the Mets as their fight song, in favor of Faut y croire (tr. "Ya gotta believe!") by the late, great French rock band Dolly:



Not only is this a better song (with a stunning lead vocal by Emmanuelle "Manu" Monet), but its adoption by the Mets will, no doubt, assist President Obama's effort to improve relations with our European allies.

More usage pedantry: the "rein" vs. "reign" syndrome.

This from today's Wall Street Journal:

The high court dismissed the Philip Morris appeal without issuing an opinion, ending the third appeal the company had secured before the Supreme Court in its fight to reign in an award by an Oregon jury.

"Awright, class," as my ninth grade science teacher, Papi Castro, used to say in his mellifluous Bronx accent, "get dis, and geddit good": a "rein" is a leather strap used to control a horse's movement, and to "rein in" means to check or control something; to "reign" (the "g" is pronounced like that in "gnu") is to possess sovereign power, as a monarch. So, when Philip Morris petitioned the Supreme Court to limit a jury award, it sought to rein, not reign, it in.

I've often seen "reign" used where its homonym, "rein", is intended. This is likely because, in one sense, the words are near synonyms. Used as a verb, "rein" means to control; to "reign" is also to exercise control. One expression in which "reign" shows up frequently is "to give [or allow] free reign [sic]." In this instance, "rein" and "reign" mean almost opposite things, since a rider who gives "free rein" is allowing the horse to proceed at its own chosen speed rather than exercising control, while a monarch with "free reign" would, I suppose, have absolute power. So, it's "free rein" not "free reign". Geddit?

Update: twif offers the following: "claude, this is what happens when you replace copy editors with word's spell check function." An astute observation, indeed. Still, it helps to have writers who know the meanings of the words they use.

P.S. for twif: the kid looks great.

Lawyers, whips, and money.

Who knew mortgage fraud could be sexy?

Pierre Bonnard, "Late Interiors", at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

About a month ago I had an appointment on the Upper East Side; afterward, I had some spare time and decided to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I first wandered through the Egyptian collections and the American Wing, then thought I would go to the other side of the building, to the modern collection, and, as I had my last time at the Met, sit on the bench facing Jackson Pollock's Autumn Rhythm (Number 30), and zone out for a while. On my way, though, I saw a sign pointing toward a special exhibit of works by Pierre Bonnard, The Late Interiors. Bonnard is an artist to whose works I've had limited exposure, and he was cited as an influence by Mark Crawford, so I decided to check it out. I was astounded. I didn't have as much time to enjoy it as I would have liked, so I went back several days ago for a more leisurely viewing. Below are images of some of the paintings that I found most interesting, taken from the Met's website, along with my comments.

Pierre Bonnard (French, 1867–1947)
Work Table, 1926/1937
National Gallery of Art, Washington, Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon (2006.128.12)
Image courtesy of the Board of Trustees, National Gallery of Art, Washington. © 2009 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris. www.metmuseum.org

Work Table exemplifies several characteristics of Bonnard's art. The composition is elaborate: note the contrast between the rectangularity of the table and of the objects on it with the concentric circles of the carpet. There are ambiguities about scale and perspective: check the lengths of the table's legs, and how its surface appears to curve upward--or is the rear of the table, in fact, raised like an easel? Subjects that would likely command more attention in other paintings--in this instance, a dog, cat and kitten--are put near the margin. Although it can't be seen in this image, the artist's signature is at the upper left corner of a sketchbook on the table.


Pierre Bonnard (French, 1867–1947)
Before Dinner, 1924
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Robert Lehman Collection, 1975 (1975.1.156)
© 2009 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris. www.metmuseum.org

Before Dinner has a formal composition, with the carefully set table and the woman (the cook?) standing behind, hands clasped, facing forward; however, the formality is broken by the image of Bonnard's wife, Marthe, seated at the left, also with clasped hands, but turned away from the table and the other woman. Note the splash of white at the upper right (reflection off a silver platter?) and the white of Marthe's boots at the lower left. Revisiting a Bonnard painting often results in seeing previously unobserved details: during the time I spent looking at this painting in the gallery, I didn't notice the small dog emerging from behind Marthe's chair.


Pierre Bonnard (French, 1867–1947)
Flowers on the Mantelpiece at Le Cannet, 1927
Musée des Beaux-Arts, Lyon
© MBA Lyon/Photo Alain Basset. © 2009 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris. www.metmuseum.org

Bonnard takes a typical still life subject in Flowers on the Mantelpiece at Le Cannet and transcends it by placing Marthe, half-seen, at the right. The flowers have a wilder aspect than in most floral paintings: note how the stalks of some extend far from the bowl and central mass of blossoms, drooping and then curving upwards.


Pierre Bonnard (French, 1867–1947)
The White Interior, 1932
Musée de Grenoble
Photography © Musée de Grenoble. © 2009 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris. www.metmuseum.org

In The White Interior, Bonnard exhibits many variations on whiteness: the table, the wall, the door (bisected into two shades), and the radiator (which appeared less bluish in the gallery than in this image). All of this contrasts to the boldness of the bright, burnt sienna colored chair. This painting displays an extreme example of Bonnard's frequent marginalization of human and animal figures. Note the hunched figure of Marthe by the corner of the table, painted in muted tones, and the calico cat she is feeding, next to the red teapot near the center bottom of the canvas.


Pierre Bonnard (French, 1867–1947)
Self Portrait, ca. 1938–40
Collection Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney. Purchased 1972
© 2009 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris. www.metmuseum.org

In this Self Portrait the artist is standing in front of a mirror above a shelf with toiletries. His skin appears quite dark (Riviera sun?) in contrast to the wall behind, which is awash in light. His expression bespeaks concentration: he appears to be using his right hand to unscrew a cap from something (bottle? toothpaste tube?) he's holding in his left. The features of the right hand are clearly delineated, while those of the left are indistinct (this is not so evident in the image above as in the gallery). This painting contrasts with another, "Portrait of the Artist in the Bathroom Mirror", that is also in this exhibit, and which was painted from the same point of view several years later. In the latter, he is without glasses, which emphasizes the deep blue of his eyes, and shirtless, showing a contrast between his tanned face and pale chest. His expression is melancholy. Perhaps something can be made of the superimposition of the artist's image, in both paintings, on a cruciform background. More likely, though, that's just the way it was.


Pierre Bonnard (French, 1867–1947)
Young Women in the Garden (Renée Monchaty and Marthe Bonnard), ca. 1921–23, reworked 1945–6
Private collection
Photography © Robert Lorenzson. © 2009 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris. www.metmuseum.org

The dominant compositional theme in Young Women in the
Garden (Renée Monchaty and Marthe Bonnard) is of overlapping or superimposed circles or semicircles: Renée's blonde hair, the flower in her hair, the blue-green (it appeared much more green in the gallery) chair back, the table, with its blue and red striped cloth, and the platters on the table with round fruit on them. Note the bright yellow border around the table (dry grass? leaves?) that partially frames Renée. Again, Marthe is put in the margin, and rendered in muted tones.

There is a melodramatic story connected with this last painting. Renée was Bonnard's mistress for a time during the 1920s. After Marthe discovered the affair, Renée committed suicide. This painting was started in the '20s, but reworked and completed some twenty years later, after Marthe's death.

"Pierre Bonnard: Late Interiors" will remain at the Met through April 19.

Update: Another take on "Late Interiors", by Carol Gillott of Paris Breakfasts, is here. Her post includes an image of Bonnard engaged in his unusual painting technique, as well as of several of his sketches and sketchbooks that are displayed in the Met exhibit.

Das Rheingold (not the beer).

As I mentioned in my immediately previous post, yesterday my wife and I attended a panel discussion at the Metropolitan Opera on Wagner's Ring cycle. The panelists were: James Levine, the Met's Music Director; Otto Schenck, who is in charge of the Met's forthcoming production of Das Rheingold, the opening opera of the cycle, and two singers (whose names I failed to write and who are not on the abbreviated cast list on the Met's site) who play Rhine maidens. Levine and Schenck both stressed the importance of the maidens in setting the scene and motivating the action that gets the plot going.

The YouTube video above shows vignettes from the Royal Danish Opera's famous Ring, known as the "Copenhagen Ring", and begins with the Rhine maidens from Rheingold.

Update: Reader Martha (hmmm...who might that be?) comments that the Rhine maidens in the Copenhagen Ring are very different from those in the Met's production of Rheingold. I shall have to see.

From The Met to The Met: a walk across Central Park to the West Side

This afternoon I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (a.k.a. "The Met"), located on the east side of Central Park in the lower 80s, to have a second view of Pierre Bonnard: The Late Interiors, on which I plan to do a post here soon. Afterward, I was to meet my wife at the Metropolitan Opera House (a.k.a. "The Met") for a panel discussion on Wagner's Ring cycle. Since I had enough time, and the weather was pleasant though nippy, I decided to walk from The Met to The Met, which involved a diagonal crossing of Central Park.

About halfway across the Park, I was approaching the Bethesda Fountain. The descending sun reflecting off a cloud mass made this an almost Turner-esque scene.

Closer to the Fountain, I could see the great old apartment buildings along Central Park West. The building with the twin Gothic spires is the Beresford; the one near the left edge of the photo with the two blocky art deco towers is the San Remo.

Looking back, I caught this view of the Boathouse.

Having passed the Fountain, I looked back to capture this view. Note the elongated tree shadows, cast by the late afternoon sun, curving across the sloping lawn.

The still leafless trees afforded a clear view of the buildings on Central Park South.

On the West Side, I was struck by this row of late nineteenth century brownstones on 69th Street, and their contrast with the high rise buildings beyond. Note also the "bishop's crook" streetlamp pole at the right of the photo.

Here's the newly rebuilt Alice Tully Hall and Julliard classrooms, at the corner of 68th and Broadway.

At last I reach The [other] Met, and am greeted by Marc Chagall's angel.

"A Waalworth of a skyerscape..."

...of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitectitiptitoploftical, with a burning bush abab off its baubletop and with larrons o'toolers clittering up and tombles a'buckets clottering down.

--James Joyce, Finnegan's Wake

The Woolworth Building, Cass Gilbert's 1913 masterpiece, seen from the Manhattan ramp of the Brooklyn Bridge as storm clouds gather on the morning of March 20th.

Holding out for a hero? In New York City, you needn't wait long.

Over the years, we've had many a hero cop and hero firefighter (indeed, in tabloid-ese these terms seem inextricably linked--well, almost inextricably). Then, two weeks ago, we discovered a hero deputy mayor. Now, today, we find that we have (fresh from his having received encouraging words from the U.S. Justice Department) a hero Mayor.

It must be something in the water.

Happy birthday to moi.

Partner-in-crime John Loscalzo posted a link to the 1980s band Altered Images doing a very non-trad "Happy Birthday" on my Facebook page. I like the song, the band, and the red hats so much I decided to post it here.

BTW the big day is tomorrow, so don't come rushing over with bottles of bubbly just yet.

On second thought, come rushing over with bottles of bubbly whenever you feel like it.

Update: Thomas Paine, resident of one of the lovely islands north of Seattle, sez:

Probably won't be able to make it to NYC for your birthday, but perhaps that is a good excuse to open a bottle of bubbly here in your honor.

Actually, any excuse for opening the sparkly stuff is a good excuse...

Agreed, Tom. Also, your comment brings to mind a story I heard a few years ago. An Englishman who worked for a company there was sent to New York to be its commercial representative for the U.S. One day he was on the phone with his supervisor in London, and mentioned that a customer in Seattle had complained of a problem. The supervisor said, "Why don't you get in your car and nip over there tomorrow?"

Remembrance of St. Patrick's Days past.

From Dermot McEvoy's Our Lady of Greenwich Village:

He wished that St. Patrick's Day would just disappear. Forever. He was growing more depressed as he looked down toward the beer pumps and saw a cute little college girl with red hair and freckles on her nose raise her mug of green beer in toast.

"God bless the Irish!" she said in a voice that told O'Rourke she would have her next beer on July 4th.

O'Rourke was no longer depressed. He was mad. "Fuck the Irish," O'Rourke said.

The bar suddenly grew silent. It was as if O'Rourke only wanted to think it, but the words jumped out of his brain and dashed out of his mouth before he could stop them. O'Rourke then realized that Clarence Black was standing beside him, the only black face in a joint full of bombed harps.
...

"Hey," said the big Irish kid from halfway down the bar, "what's your name, boy?"

It didn't register with O'Rourke. It did with Black, who reached inside his jacket to instinctively feel his revolver. It also registered with Big Zeus, the bartender, who snapped up the bridge of the bar and prepared for a preemptive strike. Then O'Rourke realized what "boy" he was talking to. Clarence Black just stared.

O'Rourke broke the silence. "Wolfe Tone O'Rourke. What's yours, fuck face?" There was more silence. Fordham Joe had just realized he had broken a very important bar law--don't cause trouble on foreign turf. The two Irishmen stared at each other.

"Wolfe Tone O'Rourke," the cute, little red-haired girl said as she finally broke the deafening pause. "I guess we can't top that. God bless you, Wolfe Tone O'Rourke."

O'Rourke nodded. "Zeus, buy these nice people a drink." The crowd began to hum again. "Sorry, Clarence, I forgot you were here."

"That's all right, Tone. I would have whipped that fat sucker senseless." He meant it. He leaned over and whispered in Tone O'Rourke's ear, "Fuck the Irish."

O'Rourke smiled. "I owe you one, Clarence."

The story above is based on an incident that occurred in the Lion's Head years ago. There's a reason bartenders call St. Pat's "amateur night."

Michael Simmons previews the next Bob Dylan album.

Michael has listened to several tracks of an as yet untitled Dylan album reportedly scheduled for late April release, and has written a piece for Mojo about it. I'm encouraged by this observation, in connection with the song "Shake Shake Mama":

Some artists retreat to servile reasonableness and bourgeois banality as they get older. Not Bob. He got Las Vegas out of his system at Budokan.

Michael's comment about the "hideous New Age cliché" Dylan skewers in "It's All Good" made me think of the wedding scene from Little Murders.

3.19 update: It's called Together Through Life, it's due out on April 28, and it has a very sexy cover photo.

Saks Fifth Avenue responds to the economic crisis.

There! This oughta do something about that declining marginal propensity to consume.

In the immortal words of Sy Britchky, "Makes your mouth parch, doesn't it?"

The banality of Bernie Madoff.

I didn't want him to say he was sorry. I wanted him to stand in front of the judge and say "I did it because I hate the human race", or "America", or "capitalism", or "my father", or whatever. Instead, it seems that it started, as do so many very bad things, not with lust to destroy, but with longing to please. Today's AP story quotes him:

"While I never promised a specific rate of return to any client, I felt compelled to satisfy my clients' expectations, at any cost," he said.

Somehow, in my view, the motive should fit the crime, and spectacular crimes should have spectacular motives.

3.13 update: The aptly named Gabe Pressman has this to say about the man he calls the "aptly named" Madoff. Pressman wonders, "Are MBA candidates taught to follow an ethical and moral framework in their careers?" If the MBA program I all but completed fifteen years ago is typical, the answer is "Yes." The problem isn't, in my opinion, a failure to teach ethics in MBA or other higher education programs. By then it's way too late to have much effect.

Cross-currents on the Brooklyn Bridge

This morning, on the return leg of my Brooklyn Bridge walk, I encountered this group heading from Brooklyn towards Manhattan. As I passed them, a man handed me a leaflet explaining that they are members of the Nipponzan Myohoji Buddhist Order, walking from Leverett, Massachusetts to Washington, D.C. to advocate "Abolition of Nuclear Weapons; Renunciation of War; Conversion from War to Peace Economy." Admirable goals, all.

Also on the Bridge this morning, going in the opposite direction, were groups of people, many decked out in colorful Tibetan dress, some waving Tibetan flags, and some wearing headbands that said "Free Tibet". When I got back to the Brooklyn side, I found them massing in Cadman Plaza Park for a demonstration.


I wondered if the Tibetans and their fellow Buddhists from Leverett had greeted each other as they passed on the Bridge. I'm sure the Tibetans want to get their freedom by peaceful means. Given the stark parameters of their situation, their only non-suicidal option may be moral suasion. But, in some circumstances, might it be necessary to choose between the ideals of peace and freedom? In the back of my mind, I was hearing the words of Patrick Henry.

Postscript to apostrophe abuse: the Grammar Gods strike!

Did two blatant violations doom this store? There are lots of others yet unpunished; still, it's a start.