About Absolutely Nothing At All

Kramer

copyright©2010TWMcDermott

It's much more difficult to write about nothing at all than you might imagine, although some have managed it rather well.

Seinfeld, for example, was a tremendously successful TV show precisely because it was, as George so succinctly put it, "about nothing at all, absolutely nothing." These words captivated the suits at NBC and the rest is TV history, which is pretty much like real history.

Sarte, as you know from college or your French phase, went on for some 800 pages about Being And Nothingness. His fellow countryman, Proust, whose work has become a lifelong challenge for me, is the all-time-champ. He wrote several volumes in his cork-lined bedroom from which he seldom ventured, in which nothing much happens at all: at least nothing anyone else ever noticed.

Is it merely coincidence that these two, who knew so much about nothing, were French? We do not think it is a coincidence and offer as further evidence Samuel Beckett. He was Irish, but wrote Waiting For Godot in Paris, apparently because he wanted to see if he could create an entire play, which would become famous mainly due to the fact that nothing much happened in it and nobody really understood it. He succeeded and so we must agree that the French are probably the best at Nothing. This may explain why they stay indoors a lot, have a pharmacy on every corner, and really know how to eat and drink.

Beckett

We come to the last day of the year prepared to look back on the events of the recent past: the last 364 days to be exact. Then, we try to look into the future to see what might happen; even making a few specific predictions about our own behavior, which we call resolutions, many of which will come to....you know what.

We do know some things will happen for sure. My home state will get a new Governor, arguably the first one we've had in some time. This would be a big something, except that it will happen in Albany, a "city" that was built in the middle of nowhere, by people who had no place else to go and nothing much else to do with their time.

In fact, the vacuum all around Albany is so pronounced that it creates the exact opposite phenomenon than you would think, allowing it to act much like a huge set of pneumatic tubes, sucking many forms of revenue from every corner of the state, except Albany itself.

And who better to reform this system than a son of Albany? The new gov spent many formative years there, as the son of a gov (some think a son of other things too). He attended Albany Law School, which, as its name suggests, specializes in a very particular kind of law mostly designed to protect the legal and physical aspects of the aforementioned vacuum-revenue system.

Cash Tubes

Some consider the new gov to be handsome, although it's hard to say, because he is seldom seen, and heard even less. He ran a stealth campaign and is forming a stealthy administration so far. He wears white broadcloth straight-collared shirts at all times, perhaps even as pajamas, and ties his knot in a half-Windsor like his dad-gov. With his background and pedigree, if anyone should be an expert on Nothing as practiced in Albany, it is he.

It is said that the new gov has a secret plan, which, as far as we can tell, could be even better than nothing.

Bon Courage! And, keep your sense of humor, or if you must, keep ours.


Ed Note: Some of you may have noticed the more than passing resemblance between Kramer and Beckett. This is obviously not a coincidence.

A King's Human Speech

copyright©TWMcDermott

We've just seen The King's Speech, a film about King George VI's painful royal battle with a stammer. Sounds like a boring subject for a film? Wrong.

Strange, but we actually LISTEN to someone who has difficulty speaking. The struggle to form the words draws our rapt attention rather than repelling it. We also feel embarrassment in the face of such human difficulty, especially in someone so privileged, but we are listening.

George VI

We root for George VI (Bertie) in the film in part because, let's face it, this is Colin Firth and we like him. We like the wise-guy speech specialist too (Geoffrey Rush). We cheer because the new King is made likable vs. his cold royal parents and his imbecile brother the Duke of Windsor, the former king. Finally, we root for him because we're just tired of bad royal behavior and because we love an underdog.

Wouldn't it be fun and refreshing to have to wait to hear the words form, when all the TV gaggling heads put forth their political and commercial pre-packaged nonsense? Why pay attention to them when we already know what they are going to say? They will say something, anything that appeals to those who have chosen to tune in to that particular point of view or network. 

We're not saying that our leaders should suddenly begin to stammer exactly. But we do think it would be great if they were forced to really think about every single word carefully,  as if it will be really meaningful to us, the listeners, instead of for their own legacy, such as they imagine it to be.

Perhaps we've finally had  enough of legacies, bold action, or thoughtful inaction. Perhaps we've heard enough Fairy Tales. Maybe we've arrived at a place where we are perfectly suited to a stammering, struggling leader, who just happens to honestly take his responsibility to us more seriously than his/her legacy. Maybe we are tired of the slick, the branded, the deciders, the undecided, the ones who are obsessed with how history will see them instead of really making history.

If we can imagine such a leader, can't we find her or him? We're betting that they do not have an active Twitter account, a reality TV show, a few billion, or a dance instructor. 

We're betting that they've probably failed at something in the course of their lives, maybe something big: a business or a marriage. Maybe they've been fired, shot-at, seriously ill, seriously poor, seriously scared and overcome it somehow. In other words, they will speak in human terms, not comic book super-human terms.

And maybe then we'll really listen to what we need to hear instead of what we want to hear.
Until then, go to a theatre and watch George VI, a wealthy, royally privileged white European man, who once upon a time actually made a real difference, instead of just pretending. Let's see if we can find a our own stammering or flawed human, rather  than a perfect "brand." 

S-s-s-oon p-p-p-p-lease.

A Few Good Things About Winter. No, Really

                                                  I am entrenched
                                                  Against the snow,
                                                  Visor lowered
                                                  To blunt its blow


                                                   I am where I go
                                                       - Winter, by Samuel Menashe


1. The plow hasn't come yet, the Internet and cable are both out. The airports are closed and flights cancelled. The paper hasn't come and won't. Ah, finally, time with the family!

©twmcdermott2010

2. One good thing about snow: it doesn't flood. Until it melts.

3. Reading Russian novels! Their bulk, once so forbidding, seems more accommodating, like a perfectly built fire, your favorite chair, that red you've been saving for just the right occasion. Like now.

4. Those mauve colored vinyl mukluks with the fur lining your Aunt Sylvia gave you one Christmas: the ones up in the attic? You can finally wear them; there are seventeen inches outside. Nobody will notice.

5. Out of coffee, you find that emergency bag in the freezer. Whole beans. You can't find the old grinder, and Santa didn't remember to give you one for Christmas, did he?

6. You begin to build a pile, small at first. A pair of shorts, a well-worn polo shirt, the swimsuit with the turtles on it. You will build upon it as weeks pass. You're going to the island. Only 74 more days.

Raeburn, The Rev. Walker Skating

7. Greys, browns. More shades of grey, brown. Sky, streets, trees, rocks. An overnight flurry. Nature's Whitener, guaranteed to last a whole day, or maybe two.

8. Platform tennis (aka paddle), ice skating on the tennis court, squash, yoga. The truly desperate play tennis indoors: serve, error, serve, error. Only 79 days until the outdoor nets go up and you finally have a rally.

9. College break. Five weeks! Part time study. Profs skiing in Italy. Full time tuition. No child left behind: only parents.

10. Walking into town towards the tail end of the storm and greeting the others walking, instead of driving those hulking Durangos. For you few, the town becomes a village once again.

Bonus. That huge four-wheel drive seven passenger SUV you leased? The one which only holds one smallish person for trips to town and yoga 90% of the time? You finally really need it to make the driveway hill.

©twmcdermott2010

Double Bonus. The chimney sweep, the guy who sold you the new shovel, the plowman, the one who delivered the wood, the inventor of fatwood, the guest who gave you the Chateau du Tertre '95, the dog by your side near the fire. You love them all.

Ed Note: the poem by Samuel Menashe is from the Poetry Foundation series of books by winners of the Neglected Masters Award. It is a Library of America book:
http://www.loa.org/
The photo of the house with "snow-fingers" and blue plow were taken in Forest Hills Gardens several winters ago.

The Year In Review

The Third Garage

copyright©2010TWMcDermott

Lipitor at night,
Baby aspirin in the morning,
Recycle Thursday night,
Gone by Friday's dawning.
Day in, day out routine can be a fright,
Yikes, a whole year's gone without warning!

Full moon winter entry,
Shadows on the lawn;
Santa's boarding plenty,
It's late and my little dog yawns.

Morning paper in its blue suit,
coffee plugged and perking;
One gov in, one gov out,
Whatever! New taxes lurking.

Meadowlands' fans: brrrr,brrrr,brrrr
"Giant" Santa dressed in blue.
Eagle win, gift-rapped in gold and myrrh,
Relax! Here's our annual review:

Old Le Carre' books put a Smiley on our face,
The new Duffy record we'll embrace.

Pork dumplings, skewered lamb:
To Main St. Flushing, better scram.
Chicken Club at Crosby Street,
Toms around our little feet,
Happy I am, I am.

The new WSJ-Off Duty, old Bud Powell,
For Stonyfield Froze Yogurt,
Java, Dark Chocolate we did howl!
Karzai's getting bags of coal,
Kim & Co. took their toll,
The Mentalist's Jane & Lisbon rule!
Betty White gave us a fright,
Obama's folks think he turned right,
Tea Parties rumbled through the night,
Waiting For Superman burned so bright!

A new townhouse with 1,000 books.
A cool new, new Sherlock & his crooks.
A Crisfield steak wedge with sauce to go,
Warm baguettes from June & Ho, Ho, Ho.
Irish oatmeal from Jerry & Martha's,
Chicken Noodle from Al Dente,
Brioche from Kneeded Bread's warm hearth-a,
All of these we consumed so gently.

William Smith College, mustasched Deans,
And these were the women. Holy Anthropology!
Thanks much to Greenwich E-Room teams,
Telemetry, and the stent-orians of Yale Cardiology.
.




Blog-Post Fans we love you truly.
Your flames burned so true bluely!

Happy Everything
From Thirdgarage


Ed Note and Request: We'd like you to take a moment to consider that you receive Thirdgarage and RareBurghers absolutely free (so far). May we suggest even a modest year-end donation to one of these organizations we like and  support?  Yes, we may. Thank You.


The Carver Center:
http://www.carvercenter.org/

Greyston Foundation:
http://www.greyston.org/

Partners In Health, Haitian Aid:
http://www.pih.org/

REACH Prep:
http://www.reachprep.org/

Resolutions, More Or Less

copyright©2010TWMcDermott

I read somewhere a long time ago that the two worst times to make resolutions are New Year's Day and a birthday. Research had shown that these were the times, when you were least likely to make sound judgements, due to the euphoria or despondency surrounding one or both dates.

I liked this idea so much, I immediately resolved not to make resolutions at all, on any day. Consequently, I have never failed to lose that fifteen pounds, save that extra ten thousand, climb Kilimanjaro, or run in any marathons. Despite this lapse, I remain amazingly, some might suggest naively, content.

Thus, I was perplexed, to say the least, when an enthusiastic fan requested to see my list of New Year's Resolutions for 2011. Ever curious, and throwing caution and personal history to the winds, I succumbed to the request and developed what I would call New Year's Aspirations:

1. To impose my own personal tax reform by overcoming all temptations to engage in conversation regarding any form of tax: flat, high, low, income, sales, VAT, progressive, regressive, delinquent, school, property or the aptly named sewer.

2. To never again eat in a restaurant that has no oven in its kitchen, and to refrain from ordering anything on a menu with rose petals in it.

3. To install that electric fence around the file marked "Real Estate."

4. To watch at least one TV show on an actual TV, at its regularly scheduled time, with commercials, without putting it on hold, or making any pretense whatsoever that it is a depiction of reality.

5. To sit back and enjoy the fact that Metro North is able to spend untold millions doing many things to the local station, which had little or no need of doing, and wishing that we'd buy more trains instead. Silly thoughts.

6. To meet fewer people who have written a memoir, are currently writing one, or who are contemplating paying someone to write one for them.


7. To no longer lie awake at night wondering why people merrily part with $50,000 for a year of essentially part-time study in a premium-brand college, while weeping and wailing uncontrollably about their $5,000 local school tax.

8. To overcome any temptation to curate anything, or to be curated.

9. To quit worrying why almost all start-ups never do.


10. To simply accept the rise of The Kardashians and not worry about its meaning. Same for the Karzais.

Bonus. To remind myself why I ceased making resolutions in the first place and to embrace and love my fans while distancing myself from some of their risky advice.

Ed Note: A slightly different version of this post ran in the 1/17/10 print and online edition of The Rye (NY) Record: http://www.ryerecord.com/ , Page A17, where the author is a regular columnist, and as some few brave and wise souls might say, humorist. Please try to remain calm while navigating the paper's "unusual" online system. It is, apparently, state of the art, but only if that state's capital is Albany.

Finnish-ing School

Alcatraz

copyright©2010TWMcDermott


Motivation. I attended a meeting recently which was held in an elementary school classroom. While listening to people speak, my eye wandered to the front wall to a sign printed in block letters. This is what the sign said:

1. Be quiet and stay in your seat.
2. No talking while others are talking.
3. Raise your hand. No calling out.
4. No throwing!
5. Keep hands & feet to yourself.
6. Follow directions.
7. Treat others the way you would like to be treated.

Several thoughts sprang to mind:

1. This is the same sign that might have hung in my school fifty years ago.
2. We haven't changed the rules.
3. I wondered if kids still notice that the author actually breaks rule #7 by writing the other six.
4. It made me want to shout out loud, dance a jig, hurl my pencil, touch Betty Lou's braid, and, most dreaded of all, look forward to the excitement and fun of learning.

                                                 ____________________________________

Angry Birds. Some of you may already know about Angry Birds. In fact, the data shows that you are probably not even reading this, because you are on your phone playing Angry Birds. Those fearful school-children mentioned above are not paying attention to anything BUT Angry Birds.

For those of us still operating on the analog planet Earth, Angry Birds is an app game which has been downloaded 50million times this year. It cost $100K for Rovio Mobile, a Finnish company, to make it and so far in 2010 it has taken in $8million (see story link below).

This is a cartoon game in which, yes, angry birds, try to annihilate little green pigs who have stolen their eggs. A player earns points for resourceful and accurate annihilation of pigs and their property. This is only one of many successful Rovio game apps and Rovio is but one of thousands of app companies developing games.

Caution: someone might be severely tempted to add Classroom  Rule # 8 above, which would state: "DO NOT PLAY ANGRY BIRDS OR ANY OTHER APP GAMES." We would like to remind you that Finland has some of the finest schools on Earth.

__________________________________________________

Stop whispering. I'm fairly certain that the idea of people, especially young ones, being obsessed with a game like Angry Birds is going to upset certain other people. I'm also fairly certain that many of these people are going to wonder what might be wrong with the set of classroom rules mentioned above. After all, we can't teach while chaos is happening all around us can we?

Hello! Chaos is happening all around us. Funny thing, but kids seem to notice this kind of thing, which is one of the chief things that make kids so annoying to adults. We poked the internet bubble in plain sight. We massacred our financial system in a way that would make the Angry Birds pig-green with envy! We're trying like crazy to hide a couple of wars in the closet with crazy Aunt Margaret, not to mention the fact that we've borrowed more eggs than those greedy green pigs could ever begin to imagine.  Our kids' daily schedules would frighten any CEO. And the Kardashians are our national heroes.

Gee, why do our kids seem so distracted all the time?

Be quiet? Don't throw things? Follow Directions? Please.

Children, as the great Philosopher and Teacher Radiohead said, "Stop whispering, Start shouting."

Ed Notes:

Times Angry Birds' stroy:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/12/technology/12birds.html

Rovio, the game-maker:
http://www.rovio.com/

Radiohead tune:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2WG_0-CgYA

Year-End Reflections: The Duchy of Fenwick, Revisited

copyright©2010twmcdermott

Imagine a once proud country, now on the brink of bankruptcy. The country has thrived for generations on the sale of a specialized product to another country. Suddenly, an unscrupulous producer in that importing country creates a far cheaper knock-off product, and overnight the exporting country is thrown into financial and social chaos.

What to do? The heads of state and their counsels, almost entirely composed of white males of modest intelligence, seem incapable of action. The titular head of state's cunning, conceited and completely self-assured prime minister hatches a foolproof plan: we must immediately declare war on the other country.

With what army, with what weapons, and with what funds, inquire the astounded counsels and titular head of state whose own father recently sat on the same high chair?

Do not be alarmed, answers the minister, we mean to lose the war as soon as possible. There is no more profitable enterprise than to declare war against the thieving country in question. They are universally known to forgive any transgression quickly and to shower the former adversary with riches, even if they have to borrow heavily to do it.

Our nation can move from bankruptcy to prosperity overnight, the PM declares!

Absurd you say? Exactly. A few of you may have recognized the plot of a brilliant 1959 film called The Mouse That Roared, starring Peter Sellers as the Grand Duchess of Fenwick, and  the Prime Minister, and the Commander of the Fenwickian troops, Tully Bascombe.

The fictional product in question was a wine called Pinot Grand Fenwick and it was almost exclusively exported to the United States until 1959, when a California vintner managed to duplicate the alpine wine's flavor and texture, as well as its distinctive label.

Of course, the twist that really powers the film is the fact that Tully leads his troops into Manhattan on the day of a nuclear drill, when the streets are empty, and they cannot find anyone to whom they can surrender. What's worse, or funnier (for moviegoers, not the PM), is that Tully is a patriotic zealot. He not only fails to lose, but he captures a scientist with knowledge of a doomsday weapon and wins the war in a single day.

For some reason, we've been thinking about that movie a lot lately.

Imagine a slightly different, more contemporary screenplay: weak, almost medieval foes who manage to engage a superpower in decades-long wars. Imagine their ministers stealing elections, wearing funny hats and openly carrying their new bags of borrowed superpower cash. Imagine chasing both real and feigned doomsday weapons for years and years and years, all the while borrowing and paying.

Also, imagine the superpower's citizenry mostly pretending that none of this really exists as far as their daily lives are concerned (except for the few military families and their friends) and focusing instead on the lives of its celebrities, their wealth, and their tips on raising children.

Funny, if it wasn't so ridiculous and completely unbelievable.


Ed Note: The Mouse That Roared was originally a novel by Leonard Wibberley. The film is available on DVD from Netflix. Highly recommended. Strangely, there is a Facebook page for the Duchy of Fenwick, written as if it actually existed. 

Dear Nick, Sincerely, Your BFF Virginia

St. Nicholas, AKA Santa                                                               

North Pole

Dear Nick,

I, Virginia, your BFF, will be twelve years old by the time you make your rounds this year. Can you believe it? I hope that you will be able to use your reindeer and sleigh again, but I worry about that, since  my dad says that you might need to use a boat soon.

He read us a news story today about some place called Norfolk, Virginia (no relation), which is already having much higher tides, because your pole and the other one are melting fast. Things are especially bad when the moon is full (please note: Dec 21).

?4U. Will you really need to switch to a boat soon, Nicky? Will you need to move someplace else? Hope not. I can’t imagine your being anywhere else but in the North Pole, with real ice all around and not that stuff that, like, comes with my ice cream birthday cake.

Maybe you’re one of those people who don’t believe there is any such thing as global warming? Some people say it’s about as real as you or the Tooth Fairy, but I’m not sure why they say that. Adults can be so…well, DF.

I want you to know that this year I do not need any new stuff. We have this thing now called Black Friday, which kinda sounds really bad, I know, but here’s the 411 on it. It’s supposed to be good for the economy. The economy has been very, very sick from getting a terrible contagious disease from when you go to the bank and put your money in a contaminated money-shrinker.

Anyway, on Black Friday everyone gets into a real frenzy and buys up everything in sight. OMG, I’m not making this up; they even get up at 3:30 in the morning to shop! So, between that and my birthday (Dec 20), I get a lot of stuff, like a new chair for my room made entirely from air-freshener, ETC.

Please think about this. I was born in 1998 near the turn of the last century. My mom and dad get all teary-eyed about it: not about me their DEGT, about 1998, silly. I guess that was a really great time; before some “bubble” burst; before 9/11; before a couple of wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, where very brave soldiers and marines are still fighting. Then we had cars that like would not work and that sick money epidemic thing I mentioned.

My mom says that wars are the only things without expiration dates. Milk, yogurt, credit cards, even my new chair all have them, but not wars. Maybe you could work on that for her?

This is the only century I’ve ever had and the only life I’ve had. I didn’t even know that it was one of the worst times ever in all history until I heard my parents’ friends talking. I’ve actually been having a pretty good time; it’s the only time I have.

So, this year, I really want you to bring a surprise for my parents: a much better next decade. I don’t know much about decades, since I’ve only seen one so far, but I’m sure that you do. You’ve had lots of them.

From listening to grown-ups, I can describe it a little: mostly what it will not be:

•       It should not be either red or blue; not from Washington, D.C. or places called Albany or Sacramento.
•       Try and get it, Dearest Nick, without borrowing a dime from a friend in China like most people. (Adults get all FUBB about China)
•      It should not have inc. or .com after it and try to get one that’s not made by your friend in China; also, it should not require using a remote.
•       It is not owned by a Russian billionaire or a billionaire Mayor.
•       It does get 50 mpg and its schools are a lot better than the ones we have now.

I know that’s a lot to ask, but you can spread it over ten years, which is a long time. My parents even say the last ten seemed like a hundred. I don’t know; I just love them and wish they would not worry so much.

Best to Mrs. C and Rudy TRNR (reindeer can swim, right?).

Please BC. Very, very C.

Sincerely,

Virginia,

Lexicon:

BFF= Best Friend Forever

?4u= question for you

DF= Don’t even go there

DEGT= Darling daughter

FUBB= Fouled up beyond belief

BC= Be Cool

copyright©2010TWMcDermott

Dumb & Dumber: The Secret Master Plan

Office Of The Secretary
Department of State
Top Secret (Really Mean It)

Dearest Bam:

Well, it's working, despite the fact that your man Ram said that "nobody would believe that we would be this stupid." Apparently they do, which is their problem. They actually believe that we would keep all of these "secret" notes and messages out in the open, where very low grade military personnel have access to them. They are also gullible enough to truly believe that we didn't notice his "stealing" the secrets, downloading them onto a thumb-thingy, and handing them to evil WikiLeaks. All without our knowing it. As if!

What a brilliant plan: using the world's deeply held belief that, since we could no longer be the richest country, or the most powerful, we had decided to become the dumbest country. What a misdirection! We took great risks as a nation to achieve this, and let's be honest, we owe partial thanks to our opposition (Republicans, not just Fox and its TP) for calling us stupid and/or evil 24/7/366.

First, hat off to you My Bam for making the entire country sit in the waiting room for almost an entire year, while all of Washington and its media nurses, talked about healthcare. All the while we had to appear not to be doing anything else at all about our real problems! Brilliant ploy and courageous on your part for taking that hit. And, in the end, no real issue, since as we expected, Congress has fallen and the crazy health bill will be toast before we borrow the first dime to buy flu-shots.

Then, the "double surge" strategy in the wars. China, Russia, Iran, N. Korea, and Pakistan all completely dumfounded by this doubling-down. China, in particular, is extremely worried about a country (us again) so apparently crazy it makes N. Korea look like Tahiti. The best part of it is that we get them to pay for it by lending us the dough! No wonder Tom Friedman of the Times loves those guys! Real morons, even if only you and I know it, Mr. President.

Oh Bam, my favorite "leak" was the one about our pal the Saudi leader, who wanted us to "cut off the head of the snake" by crushing Iran's nuclear plans. Isn't it hysterical to hear the unfamiliar unanimity on every cable gab-fest and in every town square? Everyone is saying: "Hey, Mr. Fat & Lazy, how about taking some of our oil-dollars and an ounce of guts and doing the job yourself, since we're already busy cleaning up your royal messes all over the place." Of course, "they" all think we're Dumb & Dumber on this one too, for even talking to this sleaze, whom we inherited. But, like the Chinese, he has to pay for it. Maybe we are just mercenaries now, but we're mercenaries with a plan!

Finally, and I know how much sacrifice and effort this took for both of us; we and especially our opposition simply had to appear to not really care much about the state of education in the US to make this thing work. There will be time to make up for this later, we hope, but in order to convince the world, especially our enemies (the French are too easy) that we really are this dumb, we could not develop a radically new school plan. Our master plan hinges on the world believing that we are committed to being dumb for generations. Thank goodness those fabulous Kardashian girls were willing to secretly come on board, even if they don't realize Langley runs their whole ditzy show. Brilliant idea and timing.

Admiringly Yours,

Hill

_____________________________________________________________________

POTUS
White House

Note to David Axelrod. Please draft a brief response to State. Also, guard her letter with your life for possible later use (leak), in the event that she wants to challenge us for 2012. As agreed, if our grand plan, Operation D&D,  works, we take full credit, if not, all credit to State and Big Old Foggy Bottom herself!

B. H. O.

Black Friday, Mr. Wrong

Am I the only one who rejects the whole idea of Black Friday? Am I alone in thinking that it must have been concocted by the same folks who brought us mortgages with optional repayment? No, I think that there are plenty of you who feel the same way.


Have you ever found yourself falling for Ms/Mr Wrong, but you couldn't help yourself? You knew it was going to turn out all wrong for you in the end, but you do it anyway. Black Friday is Mr/Ms Big Wrongeddy-Wrong!

How has it come to this? How could just plain normally-warped people become so totally demented that they would rise at 4 a.m. and drive fifty miles to buy furniture made from genuine 100%  room-freshener? Could it possibly be because every online and analog media outlet in the land has been working us into a frenzy not seen since Soap on a Rope or the Pet Rock?

Have we seriously asked ourselves how Black Friday got here? We awoke one morning still feeling full from a Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe cousin Jack was still asleep on the couch. We gazed out the window on a boss-free Friday only to find Black Friday hanging in the sky like one of those huge Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons in the form of a turkey vulture.  "This is not my holiday!" David Byrne and his Talking Heads might have sung, and we should nod our heads in agreement, Pilgrims.

Suddenly, wherever you turn: TV, the car radio, a computer and phone some nitwit is ranting about bargains all over town. Black Friday. Does that sound like a day on which something really good is going to happen? 
Black Friday. How could so many have fallen for this insanity so fast? Please. It's not too late to call it off.

Thanksgiving  is still the nearly perfect holiday. We don't need to get in a frenzy about buying a book for our aunt that she'd never read or having to return yet another tie or pashmina that she gave us. We don't feel compelled to bring trees into the house or hang lights outside. We gather together to share a meal and accomplish the nearly impossible tasks of being cordial to questionable relatives and making a turkey taste delicious. 


More importantly, we focus on being grateful for what we have, instead of what we do not, and acknowledge a power higher than our ourselves. Why mess it up by going crazy the very next day?

Please, let's just wake up after Thanksgiving and give thanks that it's Good Old Friday, Mr/Ms Right, the way it was meant to be. 


Ed Note: Some loyal fans may notice that this is an edited version of a piece we produced last November. Happy Thanksgiving. Happy Just Plain Friday. 
copyright©2010twmcdermott

This Just In: Holiday News Briefs

1) Not everyone is upset about the new TSA pat-down procedures. My friend Mulligan, who lives just down the lane, has taken to flying again. After going years without taking a trip, he is now planning weekly trips. "This is much easier than dating," he told me, "It's also a lot cheaper than buying drinks, dinner, and expensive French wine. Talk about a quickie; there's barely time for conversation. And, it's totally legal!" Only in America, Friends.

2) Many US citizens were upset about recent news reports saying that the senior Taliban agent who had been holding promising peace talks with Afghan President Karzai was an imposter. The guy walked away with a small fortune for just showing up, leading some to think he may at one time have been employed by the State of New York. But, President Karzai reportedly took it in stride. "After all, " he told advisors, "I am not really the President either, so he got hosed too." Only in Afghanistan.

Kashistan

3) NYC's mayor has been having trouble with his candidate to take over the city's public schools. She is a publishing exec who has never taught, did not attend public school and whose children did not attend them either. According to the mayor, she is qualified because, "She is tough as nails, has a ton of dough in the bank, wrote a book about herself, and they had to force her out of a job by promoting her. She's a lot like me, except taller, although I am, of course,  smarter and much richer." Only in New Singapore.

4) Americans were resting much easier this morning to learn that US and South Korean forces will hold "joint exercises" as a response to an actual N. Korean bomb attack on our southern ally. A secret source has told us that we also have a plan to hold a dance marathon with an ally (we're looking) in the event that Iran actually "lights up Rudolph's nose"(secret code) someday in Rock Center.

What hit me?

5) The NFL recently sent out 5,000 questionnaires to former players. They were asked to submit information regarding any violent helmet to helmet hits they might have experienced. It also asked them for info about any lingering effects from such hits. 80% of the responding players could not remember ever being hit at all. After  a thorough review, the league found that 60% of the ones who did remember violent hits were kickers, kick-holders, or reserves who had never actually played in a game. The League said that it would keep changing the questions until it received mostly the answers it wanted to hear from players.

6) Apple announced that it will soon offer an online full-service bank to be known as ikaching. At the same time, Apple said that it will establish ATM's and branches in thousands of Starbuck's around the world, beginning in the US. Steve Jobs, Apple's chief remarked, "We asked people how they would feel about banking with a company that was not run by bank robbers, lent to those who could actually repay, and kept accurate records. We got an amazingly positive response." A Google spokesperson said that they had a comment, but it was a secret.

Great Thanksgiving Ciao

copyright©2010TWMcDermott Disclaimer: Any resemblance to living persons, including relatives, isn't.

Joe The Turkey

All the media pundits are debating the meaning of Thanks-giving, as one NPR brainiac pronounced it this week. Since ThirdGarage is a rapidly developing media power, I felt obligated to say something profound about this dubious debate, or, with luck, at least something profoundly silly.

Frankly, I had no idea that Thanksgiving was really about the relative merits of Socialism and Capitalism. I just thought it was about relatives: both the regular and eccentric ones we usually invite to the house for T-dinner. I also thought it was about pretending that turkey actually tastes good, when it is clear from studying the world's great cuisines from France, Italy, China and NYC's Egyptian street-carts that it has nearly no taste at all.

Turkey pot au feu? Non. Turkey bolognese? Ciao. Peking Turkey? Hold the Mao. And the day that my Egyptian friends on the Avenue of the Americas believe we'll gobble-up (sorry) their grilled turkey-dogs is the day we permanently move to the island of Saint James.

The turkeys that the natives might have encouraged the Pilgrims to eat would have been wild turkeys, with a rich and pungently gamey flavor. Corn, cranberries, sweet potatoes, bay-scallop stuffing, and gravy, begun with last year's drippings, would have actually complimented and softened the taste of such a bird.

Today, these accompanying dishes are required to make the farm-raised turkey seem edible. Not to mention the best white burgundy you can or can't afford.

Real Turkey

Gen X and Yers will find this hard to believe, but ordering a turkey sandwich for lunch at the local delis where I grew up was unthinkable. Bologna (baloney) reigned back then, and rightly so. We also had olive loaf, lean roast beef (with cole slaw and russian), pastrami, corned beef, and salami from which to chose.

Turkey was for, well, it wasn't really for anyone until Thanksgiving, when you had to eat it in order to get to the pies and see some team crush the Lions for the umpteenth year in a row.

According to today's newspaper, there really is a national argument raging about how the first Thanksgiving demonstrated the strengths of either native socialism or puritan capitalism. Or is it the other way around? Who cares. Let me be clear about one thing right now: never waste good food on a bad argument.

Foraging For A Sabrett

My wife, the DG, comes from a certified Pilgrim family, whose descendents arrived in Plymouth on the Anne in 1623*, missing the Mayflower and perhaps an embarrassing level of wealth by a dozen or so boats. One of their fore-fathers, Thomas Faunce, actually pointed out the Plymouth Rock, the family's first questionable involvement in local real estate.

There is probably little truth to the rumor that they were banished inland for entertainment practices that closely resembled witchery. But the rumor serves to make them seem really interesting, slightly eccentric, or completely lovable, depending upon which history book you read.

Personally, I love them all, especially the DG.

This year, we decided to forego the possibility of having our guests enter into the current political debate at the table. We figured that guests of Puritan stock (strong socialist tendencies) and guests descended from more recent immigrants (to the right of the right field foul pole)) might have a more vibrant conversation if they could eat  something like boudin noir, pollo alla griglia, or Momofuku pork-belly dumplings.

Great Ciao

This year, the family, in a moment of rare unanimous brilliance, asked me to choose a NYC restaurant for our Thanksgiving dinner. Strange as it might seem (and very lucky), there are no Puritan restaurants in NYC: Albanian, Croatian, even Turkish, yes, but no Puritan restaurants.

Where are we going, you ask? Zucchero e Pomodori, where they do serve the usual turkey and trimmings under duress, but also much, much more.

Tanta Grazie!

* Ed Note: You can find the passenger list for the Anne, including John & Manasseh Faunce, here:       http://www.packrat-pro.com/ships/anne.htm
Leftover turkey is very edible if served in the following way: cold, on Pepperidge Farm white, with gobs of mayo, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, salt & pepper, accompanied by glass of 1% milk. A dieting aunt once skipped the bread, put the whole thing in a bowl, and heated it at 300' for 15 minutes. She is still living. Finally, for the uninitiated, DG is Darling Girl; her real name is not Manasseh.

Walking Around:In The Heartland

Williamsport, Lycoming County, PA

Gertrude Stein once said of her native Oakland, "There's no there there." Oakland most likely didn't care. 

I suspect that Stein and her companion Alice Toklas would not have liked Williamsport, PA much either, but, having recently made two trips there, I don't care. WPort, as I call it, has got plenty of there; you just have to pay attention.

Once a thriving lumber town, Williamsport  has become better known in more recent years as the home of the Little League World Series. For a decade, it has been struggling to hold its population at around 30,000. But, that has not been an easy task despite a $300M  investment of tax and bond funds over the last ten years to enliven its downtown business district.

Williamsport is supposedly poised for a renaissance due to a projected boom from Marcellus Shale. No, Marcellus is not the newest Eagles' or Steelers' cornerback ; it is an area containing a huge natural gas deposit.  Lycoming County, according to the WPort Sun Gazette has already seen an influx of 75 new gas-related companies, and more are sure to follow offering new, mostly skilled jobs.

But, how many of those skilled jobs will go to current Williamsport residents, who sorely need good jobs? And, if they do, who will then work at the lower paying jobs they leave behind? I suppose that many cities would consider those to be very good issues to be facing given falling tax revenue, stingy state capitols, and more than enough deficits to go around. But, as they say, beware of what you wish for.

The Bullfrog Brewery sits between the newly-refurbished Genetti Hotel/Convention Center, which began life as The Lycoming, and the Arts Center. Bullfrog gathers a good crowd on Jazz Wednesdays, and serves its own brews as well as some  fine ribs.

The Bullfrog crowd is informal and mostly middle-aged. Except for a professor or two from Lycoming College, it looks like a native crowd.
But, don't think it's not sophisticated. The jazz combo played a very credible Coltrane arrangement of My Favorite Things, sans horn, and a nice Bye-Bye-Blackbird, at my request. Take that, Gertrude.

Glen Beck is "performing" at WPort Convention Center this week. I suppose he has a pretty good following here at the moment. He has an unusual capacity to make "just plain folks" think he's one of them; while pocketing millions and working for a huge corporation, News Corp. Somehow, I have a feeling that he would not like all that government spending downtown. But, appropriately, he's a guy who might know a great deal about gas.

Can Williamsport successfully jump all the way from the Little League to the majors by using water from its creeks and rivers to obtain the rich gas? Probably.

But, If the very capable folks who run Williamsport are smart, they'll invest any gas money in creating the best schools in the universe, therefore developing the best renewable natural resource any city has: young minds. The best minds will create the next generation of businesses and products, based on science,  technology, and imagination gained by studying the arts. And, they can build them in Williamsport.

As I headed south to home on Rte.15, a large road-sign near the town of White Deer read:
BUCKLE UP NEXT MILLION MILES. So true.

Ed Note: Rory Stewart did not walk a million miles across Afghanistan, but he certainly had to buckle up for every step he did take. We recommend his The Places In Between, Harcourt.

Walking Around: Riding The Global Local

The former Speaker of the House, Tip O'Neill, used to say that "All politics are local." At Thirdgarage, we would add, "and all local politics are now global." Fortunately for us, the best way to find out about these things is by eating as many local meals as possible.

Last week I rode the mostly elevated Number 7 train from GCT (Grand Central Terminal for you bumpkins) into Queens. This is not your grandmother's #7 IRT line. Queens Plaza is beginning to look like Shanghai's Pudong area. The Rawson and Lowery stations have been spruced up with stained glass!

But, nobody can change the slow curving path the #7 takes on the early part of its journey through Queens. The wheels still screech and the train leans into numerous curves, almost touching the buildings as it meanders generally eastward like a steel boat tacking in the wind.

I hopped off at 74th & Roosevelt to walk to the next station, 82nd St. My grandfather took me to a shop somewhere near there to buy my first bicycle ( a 24"Bauer German racer). Today, it would be easier for us to buy a bici, find a notario, or obtain a divorcio.


I consider this to be an excellent development, although I strongly suspect that my grandfather, who as Tax Commissioner knew every inch of this area, would not agree.

I continued my journey on the #7 to Main St. Flushing, as eager as any tourist aboard the Paris metro or London underground. The Latino faces turned quickly into faces that could draw a map of Asia, particularly China. Arriving at Main St. & Roosevelt, I could have been in Hong Kong or Seoul, instead of Bogata' or Caracas. If Columbus had taken the #7, he could have discovered the Americas and reached the "Indies."

Suggestion: grab your fork & chopsticks and go sample Main St.'s delicious kiosk and street-cart charcoaled lamb on a stick, large pork dumplings, thinny-thin noodles with hot sauce, and scallion pancakes, all for about a $1 each. Also, try a curious looking orange fruit (above left), which has the consistency of an apple and tastes like a sweet melon, 7 for a $1. Not to mention "purple" corn, also a buck.

If you're in the mood for a massage, don't worry; you will receive many invitations to have one, and, who knows,  some of them may even really turn out to be a regular massage.

Riding the #7 and walking the streets of Jackson Heights and Flushing, I had to ask myself once more: despite our current deep national funk, why do millions of immigrants still board boats/trains/trucks, make stunning sacrifices by leaving their native lands & families to get here? Why are they still willing to work hard at jobs which would cause many of us to faint at the thought of doing them?

Why do people still flock to the land of deficits, dummies and dough-boys & girls?

Happily, it's going to take many more train rides and strolls, not to mention dumplings and lamb sticks,  to find some reasonable answers to that question.

Ed Note: As part of our Walking Around series, we recommend reading Matsuo Basho's Narrow Road To The Interior, Shambala Centaur Editions, translated by Sam Hamill. Basho, Japan's greatest haiku poet, wandered 17th Century Japan and left us one of the world's great travel books.