Take one character each from column A and column B, place them in one of column C's settings, and voila! You have the makings of a New Yorker cartoon. Supposedly, this was the doing of a group of NYer cartoonists at a recent festival.
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Burgers in SF
After a chill afternoon at China Beach, we checked out some burgers at Bill's Place, which made me think about all of the good burgers to be found in San Francisco:
- Bill's Place (pictured) grinds its own, and names its burger platters after local celebrities. Extra credit for the chandeliers and non-mayo cole slaw. On the downside, it's unjustifiably pricey. $10 for a burger? Maybe at Zuni, but it seems weird to pay this much at a diner.
- If you're interested in diner-style ambiance more than good-tasting burgers, you can check out Joe's Cable Car. I really wish that the burgers tasted good there, but the reality is that they don't.
- For fake retro ambiance, high tourist quotient and really mediocre burgers, Mel's is your place. There are at least three very unconvenient Mel's locations, if you're Mission/Lower-Haight based.
- Slow Club has (or used to have) a good yuppie burger — sprouts and fancy aioli, on some kind of Euro roll. Being from the Midwest, I dislike froofy interpretations of burgers, but in weaker moments I have been known to order this burger. And enjoy it.
- Speaking of froofy, Zuni serves a burger amidst its generally tasty Cali cuisine. In 1996-ish, I could not bring myself to admit that it was good; in 2005, I can.
- On cold nights, Zeitgeist can ring your chimes with a good char-burger. On warm, busy nights, expect extra char.
- BurgerMeister and Burger Joint are all about happy cows (Niman Ranch beef), sterile, fluorescent-lit dining rooms (creepy) and, in the end, similar burgers. Hipsters split hairs about which is better. I call it a tie. (But the Meiser has Mitchell's ice cream.)
- I'm a recent convert to the virtues of Big Mouth in the Mission. Quality control is in full effect on both fries and burgers, plus greasy-spoon atmosphere distinguishes it from the sterile environs of the BJs and BMs of the world.
- Everyone talks about Barney's Gourmet Hamburgers but I personally don't see what the fuss is about. It's not that I dislike white people, but it annoys me that the owners avoid all but the whitest of white neighborhoods — North Berkeley, North Oakland, Noe Valley. Dude, next stop: Mill Valley.
There are lots more. I'll update soon.
I took this picture in a small atrium overlooking the lobby of the Seattle Library, designed by Rem Koolhaas and opened a year ago. As Mara and I enjoyed the cool, green light, we overheard a conversation that went something like this:Middle-age woman to her husband: I can't believe they spent so much money on this thing.Husband: It's absurd. What's in a library? Books. You don't need all this other stuff.Middle-age woman to Mara: What a waste of money, right?Mara: [Flabbergasted]People raise the same argument when cities build new sports stadiums. Of course, stadiums bring in huge amounts of revenue and, the last time I checked, libraries were free. On the other hand, stadiums house teams owned by zillionaires who, the last time I checked, could probably afford to build the stadiums themselves.In any case, the taxpayers of Seattle have contributed to the construction of an amazing public space where EVERYONE can go, read, hang out FREE OF CHARGE and be inspired by the wisdom of the ages surrounding them. I can't imagine a better environment in which to do this. Citizens of Seattle, I salute you.
Law nerds around the country are providing interesting commentary of the Roberts confirmation. SCOTUSblog provides a blow-by-blow account of the posturing and intermittent questioning of the senators alongside interesting legal commentary, but it's a blog, so you have to scroll down to the bottom and read upwards if you want to read chronologically. Balkinization, a blog that includes many quite interesting essays by Yale Law professor Jack Balkin, has an interesting discussion about why Democrats should not confirm Roberts. Balkin recently published an interesting piece in Slate about originalists and the concept of a living constitution: "Alive and Kicking: Why no one truly believes in a dead Constitution."If you're willing to sift through the details — and each memeber of the Senate Judiciary Committee tends go into excessive detail before getting to his/her question — the NYT has raw transcripts: Day 1, Day 2.
After Hurricane Katrina, the recent Harper's magazine feature about the uncontrollable, unfathomed termite infestation of the French Quarter seems downright eerie. Equal parts information and meditation, Duncan Murrell's "The Swarm" is an effective, moving blend of first-hand reporting on blizzard-like termite swarms, spooky interviews with insect experts, and genuine Southern gothic moments:
Where the Formosans are foraging — in the studs of a wall, for instance — the carton sometimes takes the shape of the very thing they're eating. Pest-control operators in New Orleans told me many of stories of ripping out drywall to expose what looked from a distance like solid two-by-four framing pieces, only to find that they were looking at carton nests, the ghosts of a wall long since consumed.
It also provides a peek into the world of the termitologist, touching on the tragic tale of a manic-depressive South African entomologist who became so obsessed with termites that he began to view their behavior in perhaps overly sophisticated terms:
[Eugene] Marais believed that colonies of termites were distinct, compound organisms not unlike the human body, that every component from queen to worker served a function not just analogous but identical to the function of our own hearts and livers and brains and blood cells. Marais thought that the termite colony lacked only the power to move together as one organism, and that someday they would develop even that skill.
Next on my reading list: Marais's "classic work of obsessive observation," The Soul of the White Ant.
The British street artist Banksy just painted nine provocative murals on the wall that separates the West Bank from Israel. The sardonic quote in the title is Banksy's reflection on his work there. He goes into a little more detail on his site. The Guardian and BBC both covered it, and there is at least a little disagreement over the meaning and relevance of politically-motivated street art here and here.While we're on the subject of Banksy, here's my previous favorite project of his. As the BBC sub-head describes it, "Fake prehistoric rock art of a caveman with a shopping trolley has been hung on the walls of the British Museum."
An article in yesterday's NYT House & Garden section extolled the virtues of clutter. Kristen summed it up nicely: Maximalism is the new minimalism.
"Minimalism is easy to copy," Ms. de Lorme said at her unabashedly messy desk on a recent morning. "Everybody can do it."
Nevertheless, maximalism isn't as easy as it sounds. The author visits a Barry McGee exhibition at Deitch Projects in New York and finds that clutter must be as carefully arranged as non-clutter if it is to work:
Op-art panels on the walls. Graffiti everywhere. And one wall I stared at for a long time was covered with small, framed pictures densely hung at odd angles, some layered on top of one another. Like the whole massive installation, it looked random. Of course, it wasn't.
The thing is, Barry McGee was maximal so long ago — Bay-Area-Now-1996 long ago — that it's strange to use him as an example of a current maximal trend. I guess well-executed maximalism is timeless.The photo above is from Barry McGee's maximal mural at the Museum of Victoria (fall, 2004).
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Baseball / Palmeiro-zol
The Baseball Hall of Fame is filled with guys who cheated, played dirty, were terrible role models, drunks, jerks, domestic abusers, the list goes on. If any of these things disqualified players from eligibility, guys like Gaylord Perry & Whitey Ford (cheaters), Mickey Mantle (a great guy, but a drunk), Ty Cobb (a jerk) and many, many more would have been denied entry.With the exception of the Pete Rose affair, history has ruled that only two things matter when it comes to HOF criteria: statistical milestones and World Series rings. And for Rose, all would likely be forgiven if he would suck it up and apologize.In another few years, we'll add some more characters to the Hall's rogue gallery — the juicers. One of them will be Rafael Palmeiro, who testified before Congress that he had never taken steroids. Palmeiro punctuated his testimony with finger-jabs at the assembled Congresspeople, a gesture that now seems oddly similar to the technique used by Jose Canseco to inject steroids into Palmeiro's butt. Yesterday, Palmeiro was exposed as a juicer, and the NYT reported that he used the real stuff rather than some super-charged multi-vitamin:
Palmeiro said Monday that he had never intentionally taken steroids, but stanozolol does not come in dietary supplements and is among the most popular steroids on the market. It can be ingested or injected and usually remains in a person's system for at least a month."It's a mildly strong to strong steroid," said Dr. Gary Wadler, a professor at New York University who is an expert in sports doping. "Potent is the word I would use."
Palmeiro will be joined by at least three other juicers in the Hall: McGwire, Bonds and Sosa. I don't begrudge these guys. They definitely weren't the only juicers in the game, and they would have been great players without the 900-foot moon-shots. On the other hand, I think that the Hall should find a way to express and interpret the unsavory side of baseball: Induct Raffy and rest (Rose, especially), and set up a section of that constructively discusses and contextualizes the behaviors and achievements of those players who sought extra-curricular assistance.Baseball's good guys probably don't lose any sleep over this, but I still think that the Hall should find a way to distinguish guys like Robin Yount & Mike Schmidt (and in the future, Greg Maddux & Tony Gwynn). They deserve to be recognized as fair players in times when players sought unfair advantages.
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Rust Belt road trip
Pittsburgh. Buffalo. Niagara Falls. Toronto. Detroit. It's not exactly Route 66, but it was hot.
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I love Michigan in the summer.
10 things about Gabe & Yoshi's wedding:
- The bride and groom. Our golden couple. The whole weekend was a perfect reflection of what we all love about them.
- Kalamazoo. Charming and fun. Shady trees, greasy spoons, a surprisingly fancy art museum.
- The winding, tree-lined streets of Kalamazoo. Grid-less! Baffling! London, Boston — those cities have nothing on the complexity of Kalamazoo. If some kids on skateboards hadn't pointed the way, we would have missed the beginning of the wedding. Thanks, kids!
- Fireflies and Christmas lights. The bride's sister's boyfriend (Andrew) hosted a lovely after-party on the night of the rehearsal dinner. Usually these parties are ill-planned and bar-oriented, but this one was well-executed outside on a beautiful back porch lit by Christmas lights and fireflies.
- The Kal-Haven Trail. Nearly a death-by-humidity experience.
- Suite 702. Post-wedding sing-alongs, beer-scrounging and hotel-room-jacuzzi-ing at the Radisson. Classy.
- The excellent, eclectic food. Not that there's anything wrong with the salmon filet/side salad/baked potato thing, but it was pleasantly surprising to get a nourishing, unique meal at a wedding reception. I actually ate this food, and liked it. Nice work, wedding planners and caterers.
- Friends & family representing. While I didn't do such a great job of circulating among those I hadn't known for 15 years, I couldn't help but notice the collective high spirits and festive attire of all in attendance. Plaid pants, flowered dresses, smiles, laughter — all good.
- Louise's toast. I, for one, did not know that the groom's mother met the bride's father during freshman week at Carleton. Amazing. The stars had been spelling it out since day 1, really.
- It must be said: Maggie's boobs.