The Sporadic Diary

October 31, 2010

Election 2010 is just a couple of days away and around the country the Sturm und Drang of political stridency has reached a fever pitch.  No matter that this is just a midterm election, meaning we are not voting for president this time, or in my state even for one of our U.S. senators, but mostly for less notable local jobs like auditor, treasurer, and selectman.  Nor does it seem to matter that most of these locals on the ballot are people whom we've never heard of and whom we couldn't recognize on the street if our lives depended on it.  No, political activism has become the new pastime of the aging boomer set (hey it beats canasta at the senior center) and there seems to be no shortage of angry, grayhaired geezers out there trumpeting their cause.  

In our quiet little suburban town the first clue that an election cycle is upon us appears when political signs start sprouting on people's lawns like a dandelion infestation.  Maybe it's me but I'd wager that such support has less chance of being persuasive than just appearing out-and-out scary.  Are these the same people you see on TV screaming red-faced at rallies and assorted protests?  Do they carry weapons?  

But I know we are truly in full political combat when the island in the center of our downtown traffic rotary, a circle of roughly 50 foot diameter, starts filling up with people during rush hours and Saturday mornings holding political signs of all sizes and shapes and waving in robotic slo-mo (think beauty queens on a parade float) at the vehicles rolling by.  Some drivers, a few really, honk their support, but most I suspect just try to get by without making eye contact, especially if one of the sign wavers is a neighbor or friend who is supporting the other side's candidate, someone whom you think should be kept under constant sedation.

Now don't get me wrong.  I like political activism.  But there is something about this scene in the rotary that just appears odd.  All these adults standing there on the island look like they've been captured in an overzealous game of ring-a-lievio and are hoping to get freed.  So, in the event that's the case tomorrow I plan to ride slowly around the island with my arm out the window and tag anyone who is looking to get off.  

City Guy In The 'Burbs

Episode Three

One of the biggest differences between the city and the 'burbs is parking.  In the city parking is a sport.  In the 'burbs parking is a misnomer.  Let me explain.  In the city parking is a competitive activity and every motorist is potentially your opponent.  Too many cars are vying for too few spots.  There are winners and there are losers. On the other hand, in the 'burbs there is no such thing as parking in the traditional sense.  There, when you've reached your destination, you don't "park" your car (you know, in the road, parallel and close to the curb) in as much as you guide it between a pair of lines typically in a large lot and shut off the ignition.  I'm sorry, but that's not parking.

Really, this is one subject in which I truly know what I'm talking about. 

You see, when I was getting my driver's license in the Bronx, my father would take me out on the road and, with drill sergeant rigor, thrust me into some fairly intense situations.  Baptism by fire kind of stuff.  Early on I drove on busy roads like Castle Hill Avenue, Tremont Avenue, Fordham Road, and the mother of all hazardous thoroughfares -- the Cross Bronx Expressway -- which is also the abandoned car capital of the U.S. (motto: If you're takin' the tires, I got the battery).  In those early driving days, I remember being petrified to change lanes as I simply could not get used to judging distances when looking through the rear and sideview mirrors.  When Gary Larson drew his famous cartoon showing an enormous eyeball in the sideview mirror with the caption Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear it captured the real fear that held hostage the part of my brain responsible for driving skills (the vehicular cortex I think it's called).

Each driving lesson would end with my father directing me around our neighborhood and pointing out spots into which I had to wedge.  Since my father was nothing short of fanatical about his car's appearance, when even a centimenter scratch would send him over the edge, this was tremendous pressure.  I swear to God the spots he picked out were no more than about four inches longer than the length of the car.  And these spots were not on desolate streets.  They were narrow and plagued with almost constant traffic.  With sweat beading on my brow, I would perform the classic parallel parking maneuvers -- rear in at 45 degree angle, reverse cut the steering wheel, straighten out -- and somehow, I can't remember how, get that oversized Chevy Impala (a big car back then) into the spot.  Relief would wash over me until the next lesson when the target spot my father selected would be even smaller than the last one I had mastered.

So, parking in the city doesn't faze me.  On the contrary, I look forward to it.  In fact, if I don't get into a spot and leave the car within six inches of the curb on the first try, I consider it a failure and have a hard time sleeping that night.

Which brings me back to the 'burbs.  I live in a pretty ordinary suburban/rural community.  Lots of open space and freestanding homes with driveways.  In the twenty-three years I've lived here I've never had to look for a parking spot.  Never.  There are plenty of places to put your car.  Actually, a large section of our downtown is, in essence, a string of contiguous parking lots.  Every retail establishment in what you might call, with a stretch, the central business district has its own parking area, typically right in front.  This creates a peculiar situation where all the stores are recessed from the road, many by one hundred feet or more, so that it is impossible to tell what they are.  Not only is this bad for business (pedestrians on the sidewalk need binoculars to read the signs over the doorways), but, since there is no way our population can fill all these spots, it makes the town look deserted.  The good news is, if the NFL ever wants to locate a new franchise in our town with a massive new stadium, we won't have to worry about what to do with the influx of vehicles.

I could go on, but I think you get my point. 

Finally, remember those Larry Bird/Michael Jordan MacDonalds commercials where they are playing horse to win a Big Mac?  Trading the basketball between them, they are calling out the shots, each one more ridiculous than the prior one.  Over the highway.  Through the window.  Off the backboard.  Et cetera.  Well, if there were an equivalent parking game I would save this for my final challenge.  Downhill on a very steep grade.  Tight spot between luxury cars.  In Volkswagon Beetle.  Fogged windows.  Standard shift.

World United, Ltd

(Reprinted from an earlier unpublished work with permission of the author -- me)

In a transaction that caught the market completely off-guard late yesterday the United Kingdom completed a hostile takeover of the United States of America in a deal involving cash, stock, and rare Beatle memorabilia.  The merger makes the former United Kingdom the wealthiest nation on earth with an annual GDP of $11.9 trillion US dollars.  The new entity will be called World United and will be headquartered in London.

            “This is an incredible move,” said market analyst David Smyth of the British firm Smyth and Gill, “and reverses over two hundred years of indignities suffered by England since it lost the colonies in the American Revolution of 1776.”  All in all, the acquisition was praised by most pundits who have felt for some time that the U.K. needed to change direction radically and who had viewed the debt-laden U.S. as a prime acquisition target.

            At the press conference at 10 Downing Street that announced the pact, U.K. Prime Minister Tony Blair indicated that he would retain his Prime Minister post and assume the title of President as well.  He also noted that in the coming months he would spend a fair amount of time touring in the Unites States, meeting staff and looking for organizational efficiencies.  For example, according to insiders in the new entity there is likely to be one, integrated Department of Environmental Protection, while the U.S. FBI may be sold to the Pinkerton Security Company.

 

            Alongside Blair was a rather stunned looking George W. Bush, who was heard to whisper repeatedly to Karl Rove, his long time political strategist, “Hey, Karl, this is a joke, right?”  Rove did not respond to Bush’s questioning, leading many to believe that he has already secured a spot in the new Blair government.  After praising President Bush for his efforts over the last few years, Blair said that Mr. Bush would be leaving office early to spend more time with his family on his Texas ranch.

Blair also pointed out that the U.S. cabinet would be restructured significantly over the next few weeks.  This cannot be good news for Vice President Dick Cheney and Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who chided various Europeans for not joining the Coalition of the Willing at the start of the Iraq War and are now viewed unfavorably by key U.K. allies.  Rumors began swirling immediately that the two American officials would probably resurface in similar roles working for Abel Pacheco, the President of Costa Rica.  Another report suggested that Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice will retire from government service to pursue a long dreamed of career as a hip hop rapper.        

Clearly, the new country will have many advantages.  The merger will give British citizens many more sports teams to root for, while Americans will have far greater opportunities to learn how to speak proper English.  Economists are quick to add that World United will also have a highly diversified revenue mix, with the U.S. generating large ticket sales of military ordnance and space exploration equipment and the U.K. contributing sizable exports of tweed hunting jackets and Harry Potter novels.  Furthermore, with a combined population of 350 million and unfettered access to U.S. territories worldwide, World United is immediately expected to become the leading distributor of scrimshaw pipes.

How the takeover came about will be a fascinating story that will likely unfold over the next few months, if not years.  “Sources tell me that the U.K.’s action is the culmination of a closely held plan that began the night that General Cornwallis surrendered his army at Yorktown,” offered Laura Jo Richard, a veteran observer of government mergers and acquisitions.  “They apparently have been very patient and confident that their strategy would eventually enable them to gobble up the world’s most powerful nation that, of course, was once the U.K.’s wholly owned subsidiary.” 

 

Starting tomorrow, citizens of both nations will be able to exchange currencies at banks, airports, and other locations.  In addition, flags and other signage in the two former sovereignties will be replaced over the next few months with the new World United emblem, which was on display at the briefing.  The new design retains the core red and blue colors of the Union Jack and Stars and Stripes, and in a gesture symbolizing this historic pact features a bald eagle striking a familiar Churchillian pose with the stub of a cigar clenched in its beak and wearing a black vest and Bowler hat.

This titanic merger will no doubt put pressure on other frontline countries to find partners and consolidate quickly.  For instance, France may unite with Russia to keep pace geopolitically, while Germany may merge with Chile to gain a long sought after foothold in the western hemisphere after previous failed attempts in Argentina and Brazil.

Meanwhile, up next for World United is a possible acquisition of Australia, which would give it a strong position in the all important Asian theater.  An aide to Blair who requested anonymity said that this potential merger was necessary for World United to stay competitive in a rapidly changing and globalized world.  “China’s economy is growing like a bloody weed and we need to make sure that World United’s interests are well protected and that the Chinese do not flood the market with cheap Princess Di figurines and Burberrys’ knock-offs,” the aide stated.

Lastly, in the hours since the announcement speculation has mounted that several venture capital firms are eager to recruit Bill Clinton out of political retirement to launch a new democracy based on the former United States model.  In fact, it has been confirmed that two well known financiers have inquired about large tracts of inexpensive, remnant land in the third world district that has been home to other start-ups.  For his part, Mr. Clinton did little to quell the talk when the topic was broached by reporters, saying, “Well, I won’t comment directly, but, you know, they don’t call me ‘The Comeback Kid’ for nothing.”  

The Sporadic Diary

October 3, 2010

"You don't put the bagels into a freezer bag while they are still hot," the store manager of The Bagel Store admonished one of his staff as he was about to ring up my order.  "That will ruin them."

"But he asked me too," pled the staffer nodding toward me.

"You didn't start working here today, did you?" fired back the manager, effectively ending the argument.

I felt bad I got the eager-to-please staffer in trouble and, also sensing a slight reddening in my cheeks, felt as guilty that I did not know proper bagel bagging protocol after all these years.

I don't go to New York City for the bagels.  But it would be a justifiable reason.  They are simply that good.  And one of my treasured spots to get resupplied is the aforementioned The Bagel Store on Bedford Avenue in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn.  My daughter lives in that part of town and is a regular at this local eatery, where the clientele is as diverse as the bagels.       

The bagel is such a simple thing, yet so many get it so wrong.  Strong flavor and a hard crust are essential attributes for me.  This sounds trite, but somehow this formula, as basic as one plus one equals two, eludes most bagel makers.

It's hard not to get a good bagel in New York, while outside New York just the opposite is true.  I haven't lived in New York since the mid 1970s, and I can count on one hand the number of places outside of New York that have sold a good bagel.  One was called The Bronx Bagel, which inexplicably turned up and operated for about six years in my current town of Westborough, Massachusetts when my older girls were in high school.  Its odd appearance and sudden disappearance makes me wonder if the whole thing was just a mirage.  But it wasn't, and temporarily at least we noshed on fine bagels at a store whose main attraction was named after my hometown.

It was in the Bronx that I came to really appreciate a good bagel and various breads too.  And where I learned that the harder the crust, the better.  I often now say that, if the crust of a bagel or loaf of bread does not lacerate my gums while chewing, then, well, what was the point.

I hammered home this observation on a business trip about fifteen years ago.  I was traveling with Miriam, a Jewish friend from work, and sitting in a three seat section of our plane we got into a conversation about the bagels in our respective towns.  Miriam lived in Newton and claimed with some cause that her town's shop produced the best bagels around.  I countered with The Bronx Bagel and so we argued until we agreed to swap a dozen bagels that week and do a taste test.  (For those interested, after we finished off the other's cache we called it a draw.)

But our give and take prompted the third member of our conjoined seats to introduce himself and tell us that he was a salesman at Dunkin' Donuts, the ubiquitous coffee and donut chain in the Northeast.  Clearly having eavesdropped on us, he explained that Dunkin' Donuts was planning to launch a bagel of its own and, in fact, he had some samples in his case.  He asked if we'd try some and give him our opinions, obviously recognizing that he had a pair of connoisseurs at his disposal.  We quickly agreed and the next thing we knew we were sharing several varieties of Dunkin' Donuts soon to be released entry into the morning foods market.

It only took a bite or two for both Miriam and me to pan these awful excuses for bagels to the utter astonishment of the salesman.  He was dumbfounded and explained how well the bagels had done in various consumer tests.  "Really?" we questioned.  "Who were these consumers?  Had they had their taste buds surgically removed earlier in life?"  Miriam was especially irate, getting more and more animated with each "and another thing" statement.  At one point I thought she was going to hit the poor bastard.

With the two of us still railing, the salesman beat a hasty retreat to the restroom where no doubt he fought to regain his composure.  I don't recall that he returned to his assigned seat, perhaps opting for a safer location within the plane.

Of course, Dunkin' Donuts eschewed our advice and went ahead anyway and launched its bagel offering, which years later is still a highly successful item on the menu.  Only another indication of the demise of our society and the growing depravity of man.