Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Liking the news again
Missing UW student found, minimum wage bill passes in Madison (one of just a handful of cities in the country now with a minimum wage that’s higher than the federal level), can we please just continue with the roll of good news?
Liking the news again
Missing UW student found, minimum wage bill passes in Madison (one of just a handful of cities in the country now with a minimum wage that’s higher than the federal level), can we please just continue with the roll of good news?
Spring Update
The weather leaves much to be desired, BUT the white campanula is really shooting up, and the geranium is forming a thick mat. The veronica leaves are also quite large, and the dianthus is getting ready for the rabbit assault (their favorite).
Spring Update
The weather leaves much to be desired, BUT the white campanula is really shooting up, and the geranium is forming a thick mat. The veronica leaves are also quite large, and the dianthus is getting ready for the rabbit assault (their favorite).
The scientific revolution
A finding that is worth sitting up for: according to a UC San Diego study (published in Psychological Science), people pick pure-bread dogs that resemble them. I don’t really go for knocking studies that affirm the obvious. I’m surrounded by social scientists and have come to appreciate that there’s a big step from positing an “obvious” conclusion at a cocktail party (do people still go to cocktail parties?) to documenting it and drawing wider implications from it.
Still, this one seems so very basic that it, at the very least, does not deserve to be included in CNN.com’s top stories (here) for the morning.
On the other hand, it made ME click and read, just in case there was something to be learned from my own choice of an American Water Spaniel for a pet. The terribly frustrating thing about the cited study is that it seems not to specify (at least in the CNN synopsis of it) the criteria used for matching owners with their pets. It appears that different judges used different criteria, which, to me, is perhaps the most revealing aspect of the study: that you can use different criteria and arrive at the same place (similarly, when we admit students to law school, we use our own individually crafted set of markers, yet we wind up choosing pretty much the same students).
In dog selection, the conclusions presented are rather basic: Frenchies for trendy people, collies for gregarious folks.
They don’t say anything about American Water Spaniels, and I don’t think it would have application to my “selection process” anyway. I picked this particular dog because I was riding the bus from the Milwaukee airport and noticed this peculiar sight: a gorgeous, rather large animal, making his way up to the lap of its owner. I asked if he was feeling stressed after the plane ride. The owner said no, not especially, he just sort of fancied himself as lap dog – all 45 pounds of him. Ollie, our rather shy animal and offspring of this dog has the same (must therefore be genetic?) habit. If you sit down, he’ll make every effort to get into your lap. Yet his appearance is such that you’d think he’d be the perfect hunting companion to Dick Cheney. An incongruous mixture of traits. Does this say something about my predisposition?
[Btw, the American Water Spaniel also happens to be the state dog of Wisconsin, though absolutely NO ONE living here knows this, so I doubt it would steer a selection process.]
Still, this one seems so very basic that it, at the very least, does not deserve to be included in CNN.com’s top stories (here) for the morning.
On the other hand, it made ME click and read, just in case there was something to be learned from my own choice of an American Water Spaniel for a pet. The terribly frustrating thing about the cited study is that it seems not to specify (at least in the CNN synopsis of it) the criteria used for matching owners with their pets. It appears that different judges used different criteria, which, to me, is perhaps the most revealing aspect of the study: that you can use different criteria and arrive at the same place (similarly, when we admit students to law school, we use our own individually crafted set of markers, yet we wind up choosing pretty much the same students).
In dog selection, the conclusions presented are rather basic: Frenchies for trendy people, collies for gregarious folks.
They don’t say anything about American Water Spaniels, and I don’t think it would have application to my “selection process” anyway. I picked this particular dog because I was riding the bus from the Milwaukee airport and noticed this peculiar sight: a gorgeous, rather large animal, making his way up to the lap of its owner. I asked if he was feeling stressed after the plane ride. The owner said no, not especially, he just sort of fancied himself as lap dog – all 45 pounds of him. Ollie, our rather shy animal and offspring of this dog has the same (must therefore be genetic?) habit. If you sit down, he’ll make every effort to get into your lap. Yet his appearance is such that you’d think he’d be the perfect hunting companion to Dick Cheney. An incongruous mixture of traits. Does this say something about my predisposition?[Btw, the American Water Spaniel also happens to be the state dog of Wisconsin, though absolutely NO ONE living here knows this, so I doubt it would steer a selection process.]
The scientific revolution
A finding that is worth sitting up for: according to a UC San Diego study (published in Psychological Science), people pick pure-bread dogs that resemble them. I don’t really go for knocking studies that affirm the obvious. I’m surrounded by social scientists and have come to appreciate that there’s a big step from positing an “obvious” conclusion at a cocktail party (do people still go to cocktail parties?) to documenting it and drawing wider implications from it.
Still, this one seems so very basic that it, at the very least, does not deserve to be included in CNN.com’s top stories (here) for the morning.
On the other hand, it made ME click and read, just in case there was something to be learned from my own choice of an American Water Spaniel for a pet. The terribly frustrating thing about the cited study is that it seems not to specify (at least in the CNN synopsis of it) the criteria used for matching owners with their pets. It appears that different judges used different criteria, which, to me, is perhaps the most revealing aspect of the study: that you can use different criteria and arrive at the same place (similarly, when we admit students to law school, we use our own individually crafted set of markers, yet we wind up choosing pretty much the same students).
In dog selection, the conclusions presented are rather basic: Frenchies for trendy people, collies for gregarious folks.
They don’t say anything about American Water Spaniels, and I don’t think it would have application to my “selection process” anyway. I picked this particular dog because I was riding the bus from the Milwaukee airport and noticed this peculiar sight: a gorgeous, rather large animal, making his way up to the lap of its owner. I asked if he was feeling stressed after the plane ride. The owner said no, not especially, he just sort of fancied himself as lap dog – all 45 pounds of him. Ollie, our rather shy animal and offspring of this dog has the same (must therefore be genetic?) habit. If you sit down, he’ll make every effort to get into your lap. Yet his appearance is such that you’d think he’d be the perfect hunting companion to Dick Cheney. An incongruous mixture of traits. Does this say something about my predisposition?
[Btw, the American Water Spaniel also happens to be the state dog of Wisconsin, though absolutely NO ONE living here knows this, so I doubt it would steer a selection process.]
Still, this one seems so very basic that it, at the very least, does not deserve to be included in CNN.com’s top stories (here) for the morning.
On the other hand, it made ME click and read, just in case there was something to be learned from my own choice of an American Water Spaniel for a pet. The terribly frustrating thing about the cited study is that it seems not to specify (at least in the CNN synopsis of it) the criteria used for matching owners with their pets. It appears that different judges used different criteria, which, to me, is perhaps the most revealing aspect of the study: that you can use different criteria and arrive at the same place (similarly, when we admit students to law school, we use our own individually crafted set of markers, yet we wind up choosing pretty much the same students).
In dog selection, the conclusions presented are rather basic: Frenchies for trendy people, collies for gregarious folks.
They don’t say anything about American Water Spaniels, and I don’t think it would have application to my “selection process” anyway. I picked this particular dog because I was riding the bus from the Milwaukee airport and noticed this peculiar sight: a gorgeous, rather large animal, making his way up to the lap of its owner. I asked if he was feeling stressed after the plane ride. The owner said no, not especially, he just sort of fancied himself as lap dog – all 45 pounds of him. Ollie, our rather shy animal and offspring of this dog has the same (must therefore be genetic?) habit. If you sit down, he’ll make every effort to get into your lap. Yet his appearance is such that you’d think he’d be the perfect hunting companion to Dick Cheney. An incongruous mixture of traits. Does this say something about my predisposition?[Btw, the American Water Spaniel also happens to be the state dog of Wisconsin, though absolutely NO ONE living here knows this, so I doubt it would steer a selection process.]
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Students are so helpful
A few weeks ago, I wrote here that a concerned, well-meaning student come up after class to tell me that calling something a “slam dunker” violated every athletic principle known to man, woman, or child. Gratefully, I made a note that henceforth it shall be simply a “slam dunk.”
A reader then informed me that he had problems with my blog because I alluded there to being dense about slam dunks due to my limited knowledge of the baseball field. He told me that it is not the habit for athletes to achieve slam dunks in baseball.
Today, the same concerned “slam dunk” student told me that I might expand my sports education even further: rather than mentioning the “hometown” advantage of filing a court petition where you reside, I might try incorporating such terms as “homecourt” or “homefield,” even though he assured me that the athletes in the class would be comfortable if I decided to stay with “hometowning.”
Oh, I think I can spot a set-up here: I’ll bravely throw out “homecourt” next time, and mention playing tennis, even though I should be back in basketball land. And what’s “homefield?” Is that baseball or have we now switched to football? Or maybe it’s hockey? So many mistakes to be made with using this terminology… so many…
A reader then informed me that he had problems with my blog because I alluded there to being dense about slam dunks due to my limited knowledge of the baseball field. He told me that it is not the habit for athletes to achieve slam dunks in baseball.
Today, the same concerned “slam dunk” student told me that I might expand my sports education even further: rather than mentioning the “hometown” advantage of filing a court petition where you reside, I might try incorporating such terms as “homecourt” or “homefield,” even though he assured me that the athletes in the class would be comfortable if I decided to stay with “hometowning.”
Oh, I think I can spot a set-up here: I’ll bravely throw out “homecourt” next time, and mention playing tennis, even though I should be back in basketball land. And what’s “homefield?” Is that baseball or have we now switched to football? Or maybe it’s hockey? So many mistakes to be made with using this terminology… so many…
Students are so helpful
A few weeks ago, I wrote here that a concerned, well-meaning student come up after class to tell me that calling something a “slam dunker” violated every athletic principle known to man, woman, or child. Gratefully, I made a note that henceforth it shall be simply a “slam dunk.”
A reader then informed me that he had problems with my blog because I alluded there to being dense about slam dunks due to my limited knowledge of the baseball field. He told me that it is not the habit for athletes to achieve slam dunks in baseball.
Today, the same concerned “slam dunk” student told me that I might expand my sports education even further: rather than mentioning the “hometown” advantage of filing a court petition where you reside, I might try incorporating such terms as “homecourt” or “homefield,” even though he assured me that the athletes in the class would be comfortable if I decided to stay with “hometowning.”
Oh, I think I can spot a set-up here: I’ll bravely throw out “homecourt” next time, and mention playing tennis, even though I should be back in basketball land. And what’s “homefield?” Is that baseball or have we now switched to football? Or maybe it’s hockey? So many mistakes to be made with using this terminology… so many…
A reader then informed me that he had problems with my blog because I alluded there to being dense about slam dunks due to my limited knowledge of the baseball field. He told me that it is not the habit for athletes to achieve slam dunks in baseball.
Today, the same concerned “slam dunk” student told me that I might expand my sports education even further: rather than mentioning the “hometown” advantage of filing a court petition where you reside, I might try incorporating such terms as “homecourt” or “homefield,” even though he assured me that the athletes in the class would be comfortable if I decided to stay with “hometowning.”
Oh, I think I can spot a set-up here: I’ll bravely throw out “homecourt” next time, and mention playing tennis, even though I should be back in basketball land. And what’s “homefield?” Is that baseball or have we now switched to football? Or maybe it’s hockey? So many mistakes to be made with using this terminology… so many…
Good will and cheer
This is one of those days where I had reason to cross the mile-long State Street that links our campus with the State Capitol (and the court buildings). I was going to attend a law firm baby shower for a former student, an event that brought forth great feelings of nostalgia as no fewer than three of the firm’s six attorneys are former students of mine, and I’ve worked on family law cases in the past with all but one of the partners.
Half way up State Street it struck me that my baby gift would benefit greatly from a little rubber duckie stuck to the outside and so I went into a soap store (the Soap Opera, pictured here) to purchase one. This is the way Madison works: one favor leads to another and before you know it you’re all over-favoring each other until there are no more favors to bestow. I paid $1.50 for my duckie; the sales clerk loved the duckie-on-top-of-box idea and offered to add ribbon for effect (the store has always been keen on elaborate ribbonning of gifts); of course that meant that I had time to browse and pick up a number of astronomically expensive soaps –gift ideas for imminent occasions requiring little things of this nature; it was determined then that I was also deserving of many free samples, including one that I thought would actually best be purchased, in large quantities.
A cynic may comment that I was a sitting duckie myself: a target for salesclerk largess that would inevitably lead me to deplete my bank account in that store. But that cynic would be wrong. True, I left with a beautifully ribbonned-duckie-adorned box plus many other items, with the final bill reaching outrageously high levels if you think of it as a duckie bill, but on the other hand, the bill was not so high if you think of all the stored-up presents, the good will, the exchange of kind words of praise and admiration and promises of life-long friendship.
Half way up State Street it struck me that my baby gift would benefit greatly from a little rubber duckie stuck to the outside and so I went into a soap store (the Soap Opera, pictured here) to purchase one. This is the way Madison works: one favor leads to another and before you know it you’re all over-favoring each other until there are no more favors to bestow. I paid $1.50 for my duckie; the sales clerk loved the duckie-on-top-of-box idea and offered to add ribbon for effect (the store has always been keen on elaborate ribbonning of gifts); of course that meant that I had time to browse and pick up a number of astronomically expensive soaps –gift ideas for imminent occasions requiring little things of this nature; it was determined then that I was also deserving of many free samples, including one that I thought would actually best be purchased, in large quantities.
A cynic may comment that I was a sitting duckie myself: a target for salesclerk largess that would inevitably lead me to deplete my bank account in that store. But that cynic would be wrong. True, I left with a beautifully ribbonned-duckie-adorned box plus many other items, with the final bill reaching outrageously high levels if you think of it as a duckie bill, but on the other hand, the bill was not so high if you think of all the stored-up presents, the good will, the exchange of kind words of praise and admiration and promises of life-long friendship.
Good will and cheer
This is one of those days where I had reason to cross the mile-long State Street that links our campus with the State Capitol (and the court buildings). I was going to attend a law firm baby shower for a former student, an event that brought forth great feelings of nostalgia as no fewer than three of the firm’s six attorneys are former students of mine, and I’ve worked on family law cases in the past with all but one of the partners.
Half way up State Street it struck me that my baby gift would benefit greatly from a little rubber duckie stuck to the outside and so I went into a soap store (the Soap Opera, pictured here) to purchase one. This is the way Madison works: one favor leads to another and before you know it you’re all over-favoring each other until there are no more favors to bestow. I paid $1.50 for my duckie; the sales clerk loved the duckie-on-top-of-box idea and offered to add ribbon for effect (the store has always been keen on elaborate ribbonning of gifts); of course that meant that I had time to browse and pick up a number of astronomically expensive soaps –gift ideas for imminent occasions requiring little things of this nature; it was determined then that I was also deserving of many free samples, including one that I thought would actually best be purchased, in large quantities.
A cynic may comment that I was a sitting duckie myself: a target for salesclerk largess that would inevitably lead me to deplete my bank account in that store. But that cynic would be wrong. True, I left with a beautifully ribbonned-duckie-adorned box plus many other items, with the final bill reaching outrageously high levels if you think of it as a duckie bill, but on the other hand, the bill was not so high if you think of all the stored-up presents, the good will, the exchange of kind words of praise and admiration and promises of life-long friendship.
Half way up State Street it struck me that my baby gift would benefit greatly from a little rubber duckie stuck to the outside and so I went into a soap store (the Soap Opera, pictured here) to purchase one. This is the way Madison works: one favor leads to another and before you know it you’re all over-favoring each other until there are no more favors to bestow. I paid $1.50 for my duckie; the sales clerk loved the duckie-on-top-of-box idea and offered to add ribbon for effect (the store has always been keen on elaborate ribbonning of gifts); of course that meant that I had time to browse and pick up a number of astronomically expensive soaps –gift ideas for imminent occasions requiring little things of this nature; it was determined then that I was also deserving of many free samples, including one that I thought would actually best be purchased, in large quantities.
A cynic may comment that I was a sitting duckie myself: a target for salesclerk largess that would inevitably lead me to deplete my bank account in that store. But that cynic would be wrong. True, I left with a beautifully ribbonned-duckie-adorned box plus many other items, with the final bill reaching outrageously high levels if you think of it as a duckie bill, but on the other hand, the bill was not so high if you think of all the stored-up presents, the good will, the exchange of kind words of praise and admiration and promises of life-long friendship.
Division of assets
Pausing in my review of notes for today’s Family Law class, I take a quick look at CNN.com (to make sure the world hasn’t yet destroyed itself; as Friedman of the NYT wrote yesterday, one has such low expectations of news stories these days), where I find an article about another couple’s relationship woes (story here).Demba and Chaka (Demba’s the female) seem not in the mood for procreation. After five years of inhabiting the same space, they seem hardly to have glanced at each other and Philadelphia zookeepers now believe that they may have never even had a sexual encounter (this in spite of the fact that Chaka is one fertile guy, having fathered many babies in his previous surroundings).
She gets to keep the house (she’ll stay in their ‘home’), but he gets to move in (at another zoo) with a couple of promising females. Her biological clock has ticked away, while he can just keep going and going. Have we really evolved from ape-dom all that much?
[CNN photo is of Chaka--beloved by females, though not by Demba. I'm with Demba on this one]
Division of assets
Pausing in my review of notes for today’s Family Law class, I take a quick look at CNN.com (to make sure the world hasn’t yet destroyed itself; as Friedman of the NYT wrote yesterday, one has such low expectations of news stories these days), where I find an article about another couple’s relationship woes (story here).Demba and Chaka (Demba’s the female) seem not in the mood for procreation. After five years of inhabiting the same space, they seem hardly to have glanced at each other and Philadelphia zookeepers now believe that they may have never even had a sexual encounter (this in spite of the fact that Chaka is one fertile guy, having fathered many babies in his previous surroundings).
She gets to keep the house (she’ll stay in their ‘home’), but he gets to move in (at another zoo) with a couple of promising females. Her biological clock has ticked away, while he can just keep going and going. Have we really evolved from ape-dom all that much?
[CNN photo is of Chaka--beloved by females, though not by Demba. I'm with Demba on this one]
Monday, March 29, 2004
Star gazing
A friend-reader reminded me that I should be looking at the sky at dusk because it will be many decades before I will be able to see again the line up of five planets without the aid of a telescope. I have only until the end of the month to do this.
Wanting to spread the wealth, let me post the map of planets so that you, too, can tell your children and grandchildren that you were fortunate enough to have read a webblog in 2004 that showed you what to look for:
Wanting to spread the wealth, let me post the map of planets so that you, too, can tell your children and grandchildren that you were fortunate enough to have read a webblog in 2004 that showed you what to look for:
Star gazing
A friend-reader reminded me that I should be looking at the sky at dusk because it will be many decades before I will be able to see again the line up of five planets without the aid of a telescope. I have only until the end of the month to do this.
Wanting to spread the wealth, let me post the map of planets so that you, too, can tell your children and grandchildren that you were fortunate enough to have read a webblog in 2004 that showed you what to look for:
Wanting to spread the wealth, let me post the map of planets so that you, too, can tell your children and grandchildren that you were fortunate enough to have read a webblog in 2004 that showed you what to look for:
You are so wrong, pal!
A Polish friend (referencing posts from earlier this month) wrote to ask if indeed Madison’s Odana Road, or for that matter, the Humanities Building on the U of Wisconsin campus can even compare with the pukey-pea-green square of concrete that houses Poland’s Supreme Court, or the Linguistics Department of Warsaw University? The suggestion is that those two structures require more immediate intervention (a date with the bulldozer comes to mind) than do our own urban crown jewels of hideosity.
No, no, you are wrong. Compare, please:
The Polish Supreme Court (Warsaw Uprising Monument stands in front)
U of Warsaw Department of Applied Linguistics
Humanities Building at the U of Wisconsin
No brainer, right? I don't even need to bother with Odana Road. Everyone knows about the singular ugliness of Odana Road.
No, no, you are wrong. Compare, please:
The Polish Supreme Court (Warsaw Uprising Monument stands in front)
U of Warsaw Department of Applied Linguistics
Humanities Building at the U of Wisconsin
No brainer, right? I don't even need to bother with Odana Road. Everyone knows about the singular ugliness of Odana Road.
You are so wrong, pal!
A Polish friend (referencing posts from earlier this month) wrote to ask if indeed Madison’s Odana Road, or for that matter, the Humanities Building on the U of Wisconsin campus can even compare with the pukey-pea-green square of concrete that houses Poland’s Supreme Court, or the Linguistics Department of Warsaw University? The suggestion is that those two structures require more immediate intervention (a date with the bulldozer comes to mind) than do our own urban crown jewels of hideosity.
No, no, you are wrong. Compare, please:
The Polish Supreme Court (Warsaw Uprising Monument stands in front)
U of Warsaw Department of Applied Linguistics
Humanities Building at the U of Wisconsin
No brainer, right? I don't even need to bother with Odana Road. Everyone knows about the singular ugliness of Odana Road.
No, no, you are wrong. Compare, please:
The Polish Supreme Court (Warsaw Uprising Monument stands in front)
U of Warsaw Department of Applied Linguistics
Humanities Building at the U of Wisconsin
No brainer, right? I don't even need to bother with Odana Road. Everyone knows about the singular ugliness of Odana Road.
Spring Update
They say chance of snow by mid-week, but it can hardly matter. The honeysuckle has sprouted big leaves, the bleeding heart bushes are at least 4 inches tall already. The forty million double bloom tulips I have scattered in forgotten places are never going to be as multifarious as their cousins in Holland, but they, too, are up and running (I plant early varieties just to get this early burst of pleasure) and the evening primrose has multiplied beautifully. So far so good…Spring Update
They say chance of snow by mid-week, but it can hardly matter. The honeysuckle has sprouted big leaves, the bleeding heart bushes are at least 4 inches tall already. The forty million double bloom tulips I have scattered in forgotten places are never going to be as multifarious as their cousins in Holland, but they, too, are up and running (I plant early varieties just to get this early burst of pleasure) and the evening primrose has multiplied beautifully. So far so good…China’s response to bad driving: shrug your shoulders and look to the gods
Earlier (last month?) I had blogged about the inherent dangers in crossing a street in China (to say nothing of navigating it by car). The seeming lawlessness of drivers, the diverse nature of motorized and pedaled vehicles, the crowds, the trucks and carts tilting with heaped, unbalanced cargo –all this produces a state of anarchy and chaos and a feeling of complete panic for anyone who finds herself in the middle of it.Perhaps, then, I should not have been surprised that somewhere on a rural road in China a traffic death occurred (read about it here) when a wealthy woman, Su Xiuwen, ran over a peasant woman last October. The Times describes the incident thus: “Mrs. Su was driving her BMW when a farmer transporting his onion cart to market bumped the luxury sedan. Mrs. Su became enraged, hit the farmer, then revved her car and plunged into the crowd. The farmer's wife, Liu Zhongxia, was killed.”
The case sparked great controversy precisely because Mrs. Su was both wealthy and well connected (it’s commonly referred to as the BMW case). When the local judge ruled that the death was a traffic accident based on negligence and gave Mrs. Su a two-year suspended sentence, the public reacted instantly by alleging corruption and bribery. In an unprecedented move to quell these rumors, a special judicial panel was called to review the lower court ruling.
Today the panel came down with a verdict. It upheld the lower court’s finding of no corruption and stated that Mrs. Su did not intend to kill Mrs. Liu: she was simply a bad driver.
It is, possibly, the correct result. After all, this could have been an instance of reverse prejudice: her wealth lead people to think that of course it couldn’t have been JUST an accident (in the same way that people have speculated whether Laura Bush’s youthful driving ‘mishap,’ also resulting in a traffic death, was treated differently because of her family’s prominence in the community).
To me, what was notable in the case was the court’s tolerance for “bad driving,” as it indeed seems to excuse virtually anything that can occur on the road (short of intentional homicide through use of a vehicle). Couldn’t you say that every instance of crazy disregard for road rules is simply “bad driving?” The whole nation suffers from a case of bad driving. Perhaps the reaction of “wadda ya gonna do about it..” is not a good way to get the country to focus on road safety.
China’s response to bad driving: shrug your shoulders and look to the gods
Earlier (last month?) I had blogged about the inherent dangers in crossing a street in China (to say nothing of navigating it by car). The seeming lawlessness of drivers, the diverse nature of motorized and pedaled vehicles, the crowds, the trucks and carts tilting with heaped, unbalanced cargo –all this produces a state of anarchy and chaos and a feeling of complete panic for anyone who finds herself in the middle of it.Perhaps, then, I should not have been surprised that somewhere on a rural road in China a traffic death occurred (read about it here) when a wealthy woman, Su Xiuwen, ran over a peasant woman last October. The Times describes the incident thus: “Mrs. Su was driving her BMW when a farmer transporting his onion cart to market bumped the luxury sedan. Mrs. Su became enraged, hit the farmer, then revved her car and plunged into the crowd. The farmer's wife, Liu Zhongxia, was killed.”
The case sparked great controversy precisely because Mrs. Su was both wealthy and well connected (it’s commonly referred to as the BMW case). When the local judge ruled that the death was a traffic accident based on negligence and gave Mrs. Su a two-year suspended sentence, the public reacted instantly by alleging corruption and bribery. In an unprecedented move to quell these rumors, a special judicial panel was called to review the lower court ruling.
Today the panel came down with a verdict. It upheld the lower court’s finding of no corruption and stated that Mrs. Su did not intend to kill Mrs. Liu: she was simply a bad driver.
It is, possibly, the correct result. After all, this could have been an instance of reverse prejudice: her wealth lead people to think that of course it couldn’t have been JUST an accident (in the same way that people have speculated whether Laura Bush’s youthful driving ‘mishap,’ also resulting in a traffic death, was treated differently because of her family’s prominence in the community).
To me, what was notable in the case was the court’s tolerance for “bad driving,” as it indeed seems to excuse virtually anything that can occur on the road (short of intentional homicide through use of a vehicle). Couldn’t you say that every instance of crazy disregard for road rules is simply “bad driving?” The whole nation suffers from a case of bad driving. Perhaps the reaction of “wadda ya gonna do about it..” is not a good way to get the country to focus on road safety.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
Local news
I often complain that our local paper has no inherent value to it. In fact, I don’t only complain, I ACT (I cancelled a subscription to the Wisconsin State Journal some time ago). I think my friends believe that I sometimes overreact to things, because some have been faithfully keeping me informed of what I have been missing.
For instance, tonight, a reader sent me the following clipping from out local paper (it is, bizarrely, about Kenya):
"After 10 years, he gets a bath.
A Kenyan villager who had not bathed in 10 years was stripped and scrubbed clean by neighbors sickened by the stench, local media reported on Saturday.
Four neighbors swooped on the 52-year-old-man in rural western Kenya, tying him up with a rope before washing him in public, the daily Kenya Times said.
It took four hours to clean the man, whose body was also scoured with sand to remove a thick layer of filth.
The man, a bachelor, has promised to wash once a day, and now hopes to find a wife, the newspaper said."
It is quite possible that absolutely no hint was intended with the transmission of the article. On the other hand, I saw the person who sent me this on Saturday, and she may be reacting to our particular encounter, though I don’t think so. Under normal circumstances, I may postpone a shower until after going to the gym (or for a run, or for another form of exercise), but on that particular Saturday, I distinctly remember showering very early in the morning, in anticipation of a very long day with many people-encounters.
For instance, tonight, a reader sent me the following clipping from out local paper (it is, bizarrely, about Kenya):
"After 10 years, he gets a bath.
A Kenyan villager who had not bathed in 10 years was stripped and scrubbed clean by neighbors sickened by the stench, local media reported on Saturday.
Four neighbors swooped on the 52-year-old-man in rural western Kenya, tying him up with a rope before washing him in public, the daily Kenya Times said.
It took four hours to clean the man, whose body was also scoured with sand to remove a thick layer of filth.
The man, a bachelor, has promised to wash once a day, and now hopes to find a wife, the newspaper said."
It is quite possible that absolutely no hint was intended with the transmission of the article. On the other hand, I saw the person who sent me this on Saturday, and she may be reacting to our particular encounter, though I don’t think so. Under normal circumstances, I may postpone a shower until after going to the gym (or for a run, or for another form of exercise), but on that particular Saturday, I distinctly remember showering very early in the morning, in anticipation of a very long day with many people-encounters.
Local news
I often complain that our local paper has no inherent value to it. In fact, I don’t only complain, I ACT (I cancelled a subscription to the Wisconsin State Journal some time ago). I think my friends believe that I sometimes overreact to things, because some have been faithfully keeping me informed of what I have been missing.
For instance, tonight, a reader sent me the following clipping from out local paper (it is, bizarrely, about Kenya):
"After 10 years, he gets a bath.
A Kenyan villager who had not bathed in 10 years was stripped and scrubbed clean by neighbors sickened by the stench, local media reported on Saturday.
Four neighbors swooped on the 52-year-old-man in rural western Kenya, tying him up with a rope before washing him in public, the daily Kenya Times said.
It took four hours to clean the man, whose body was also scoured with sand to remove a thick layer of filth.
The man, a bachelor, has promised to wash once a day, and now hopes to find a wife, the newspaper said."
It is quite possible that absolutely no hint was intended with the transmission of the article. On the other hand, I saw the person who sent me this on Saturday, and she may be reacting to our particular encounter, though I don’t think so. Under normal circumstances, I may postpone a shower until after going to the gym (or for a run, or for another form of exercise), but on that particular Saturday, I distinctly remember showering very early in the morning, in anticipation of a very long day with many people-encounters.
For instance, tonight, a reader sent me the following clipping from out local paper (it is, bizarrely, about Kenya):
"After 10 years, he gets a bath.
A Kenyan villager who had not bathed in 10 years was stripped and scrubbed clean by neighbors sickened by the stench, local media reported on Saturday.
Four neighbors swooped on the 52-year-old-man in rural western Kenya, tying him up with a rope before washing him in public, the daily Kenya Times said.
It took four hours to clean the man, whose body was also scoured with sand to remove a thick layer of filth.
The man, a bachelor, has promised to wash once a day, and now hopes to find a wife, the newspaper said."
It is quite possible that absolutely no hint was intended with the transmission of the article. On the other hand, I saw the person who sent me this on Saturday, and she may be reacting to our particular encounter, though I don’t think so. Under normal circumstances, I may postpone a shower until after going to the gym (or for a run, or for another form of exercise), but on that particular Saturday, I distinctly remember showering very early in the morning, in anticipation of a very long day with many people-encounters.
How is it possible to eat four entire chickens at one sitting?
Gerard Depardieu the French actor-turned-restaurateur can do it (see photo). In the Times article (here) about his new Paris restaurant, Depardieu is described as a foodie and a gourmand (not the same thing! The former – loves to eat well, paying attention to latest trends in the preparation of food; the latter—loves to explore all aspects of food).
Of course, celebrity-owned eating places are rather suspect. A true foodie would probably want to avoid some of these: Aykroyd’s funky House of Blues on Sunset Strip, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Schazi on Main in Santa Monica, Steven Spielberg’s former place, Dive!, Kevin Costner’s Clubhouse, Peter Fonda’s Thunder Roadhouse, and Jennifer Lopez’s new Madre's in Pasadena. Why? Because none of our film stars get their elbows dirty. I don’t think Scharzenegger or Lopez ever go back into the kitchen to check on the food prepping or plating.
By contrast, the NYT writes about Depardieu thus:
He is a formidable cook who will whip up a whole roast pig for a casual lunch. He is a respected vintner who owns more than a dozen vineyards around the world and personally oversees the harvest and production at several. He wanders through foreign markets discovering local specialties, many of which he smuggles into France. He meanders freely into restaurant kitchens, eats whatever is stewing on the stove and peppers the chefs with questions: why are they cooking so-and-so, where does it come from and why are they making it that way?Gourmands aren’t in it for the money. They’re in it for the food.
How is it possible to eat four entire chickens at one sitting?
Gerard Depardieu the French actor-turned-restaurateur can do it (see photo). In the Times article (here) about his new Paris restaurant, Depardieu is described as a foodie and a gourmand (not the same thing! The former – loves to eat well, paying attention to latest trends in the preparation of food; the latter—loves to explore all aspects of food).
Of course, celebrity-owned eating places are rather suspect. A true foodie would probably want to avoid some of these: Aykroyd’s funky House of Blues on Sunset Strip, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Schazi on Main in Santa Monica, Steven Spielberg’s former place, Dive!, Kevin Costner’s Clubhouse, Peter Fonda’s Thunder Roadhouse, and Jennifer Lopez’s new Madre's in Pasadena. Why? Because none of our film stars get their elbows dirty. I don’t think Scharzenegger or Lopez ever go back into the kitchen to check on the food prepping or plating.
By contrast, the NYT writes about Depardieu thus:
He is a formidable cook who will whip up a whole roast pig for a casual lunch. He is a respected vintner who owns more than a dozen vineyards around the world and personally oversees the harvest and production at several. He wanders through foreign markets discovering local specialties, many of which he smuggles into France. He meanders freely into restaurant kitchens, eats whatever is stewing on the stove and peppers the chefs with questions: why are they cooking so-and-so, where does it come from and why are they making it that way?Gourmands aren’t in it for the money. They’re in it for the food.
Our president is energetic, caring and community-focused
I am thinking, of course, of the president-elect of the Wisconsin State Bar (interview with her here), Michelle Behnke. A young Madison-based solo-practitioner, Michelle is one of those energetic people you can’t stand having around because they always manage to do more than you. I remember writing her an email once asking questions about a non-profit that I was thinking of setting up. She responded with a long, encouraging outline of some possible steps for me to consider. Free guidance –so rare in our profession.
She has chosen diversity and pro bono work as the two themes for her term in office (Michelle is the first woman of color to be elected president and she fully intends to generate a discussion about race and ethnic issues in the State Bar). Her comments about pro bono work are well taken: people outside the Bar forget that civil cases do not entitle a party to free legal counsel. In my years of working with parents in abuse and neglect cases it was difficult to understand how parents could be forced to go to court for hearings concerning the removal of their children and not have access to legal counsel, yet that is the legal reality in Wisconsin (a legacy of the Tommy Thompson years).
Good leaders can be hard to come by. It’s nice to feel enthusiastic about the presidential office again.
She has chosen diversity and pro bono work as the two themes for her term in office (Michelle is the first woman of color to be elected president and she fully intends to generate a discussion about race and ethnic issues in the State Bar). Her comments about pro bono work are well taken: people outside the Bar forget that civil cases do not entitle a party to free legal counsel. In my years of working with parents in abuse and neglect cases it was difficult to understand how parents could be forced to go to court for hearings concerning the removal of their children and not have access to legal counsel, yet that is the legal reality in Wisconsin (a legacy of the Tommy Thompson years).
Good leaders can be hard to come by. It’s nice to feel enthusiastic about the presidential office again.
Our president is energetic, caring and community-focused
I am thinking, of course, of the president-elect of the Wisconsin State Bar (interview with her here), Michelle Behnke. A young Madison-based solo-practitioner, Michelle is one of those energetic people you can’t stand having around because they always manage to do more than you. I remember writing her an email once asking questions about a non-profit that I was thinking of setting up. She responded with a long, encouraging outline of some possible steps for me to consider. Free guidance –so rare in our profession.
She has chosen diversity and pro bono work as the two themes for her term in office (Michelle is the first woman of color to be elected president and she fully intends to generate a discussion about race and ethnic issues in the State Bar). Her comments about pro bono work are well taken: people outside the Bar forget that civil cases do not entitle a party to free legal counsel. In my years of working with parents in abuse and neglect cases it was difficult to understand how parents could be forced to go to court for hearings concerning the removal of their children and not have access to legal counsel, yet that is the legal reality in Wisconsin (a legacy of the Tommy Thompson years).
Good leaders can be hard to come by. It’s nice to feel enthusiastic about the presidential office again.
She has chosen diversity and pro bono work as the two themes for her term in office (Michelle is the first woman of color to be elected president and she fully intends to generate a discussion about race and ethnic issues in the State Bar). Her comments about pro bono work are well taken: people outside the Bar forget that civil cases do not entitle a party to free legal counsel. In my years of working with parents in abuse and neglect cases it was difficult to understand how parents could be forced to go to court for hearings concerning the removal of their children and not have access to legal counsel, yet that is the legal reality in Wisconsin (a legacy of the Tommy Thompson years).
Good leaders can be hard to come by. It’s nice to feel enthusiastic about the presidential office again.
Spring Update
The grass outside is magnificently green and the helleborus orientalis is blooming its big puffy white-pink-green blooms! The rabbits are also proliferating, which is not good. They eat a good part of my crop of perennials each year. For me, the only half-way effective measure is to put cotton balls soaked in 100% fox urine near the plants that I want to protect, but it is a disgusting strategy. Ah well, it’s that or waking up the each morning to a new batch of stems with missing flower heads.
Spring Update
The grass outside is magnificently green and the helleborus orientalis is blooming its big puffy white-pink-green blooms! The rabbits are also proliferating, which is not good. They eat a good part of my crop of perennials each year. For me, the only half-way effective measure is to put cotton balls soaked in 100% fox urine near the plants that I want to protect, but it is a disgusting strategy. Ah well, it’s that or waking up the each morning to a new batch of stems with missing flower heads.
A salty conversation with Blix
The NYTimes Magazine’s interview with the former UN inspector Hans Blix comes at a bad moment for Bush given the current Clarke controversy. I know most of my readers do glance at the Magazine themselves, but if you bypassed this, at least read these snippets:
[context: Blix, once in agreement with the administration about weapons, reversed himself when inspections of the best possible sites revealed nothing; the interviewer commented at the end that Blix’ conversational style was ‘salty’—by which I suppose she meant that Blix seemed spicy rather than bland.]
Good point.
[context: Blix, once in agreement with the administration about weapons, reversed himself when inspections of the best possible sites revealed nothing; the interviewer commented at the end that Blix’ conversational style was ‘salty’—by which I suppose she meant that Blix seemed spicy rather than bland.]
Q: You never met [Saddam Hussein]?
A: He considered it far below his dignity to meet any sort of lowly creatures like international inspectors.
Q: Can one say the same of certain leaders in democratic countries? Wasn’t Vice President Cheney equally dismissive of you?
A: The Pentagon and Cheney have been very negative toward inspections. Cheney said inspections are useless at best.
Q: …you met with the president in the Oval Office?
A: It didn’t look very oval to me at the time, but I didn’t pay much attention. It was Colin Powell, Cheney and Bush and others—and a note taker! [He had earlier stated that no note takers were offered to the inspectors] They had one on their side and we had none on ours!
Q: Couldn’t you just have jotted down a few notes on the pad?
A: It’s not the decorum when you meet the president. You have to concentrate on the conversation.
Q: What was Bush like?
A: He was agile, moving, moving in the chair, especially compared to Cheney.
Q: Who, I suppose, seems more wooden.
A: Yes, the rumors that Cheney is alive are somewhat exaggerated. It’s Mark Twain in reverse.
[referring to Twain’s comment that the rumors of his death were greatly exaggerated.]
…..
Q: What do you think of John Kerry?
A: I welcome his attitude toward multilateral cooperation. I think he is trying to get back to the traditional US attitudes.
Q: What do you make of the presidential race?
A: I think maybe we foreigners should have the right to vote in your next election, since we are so dependent on you.
Good point.
A salty conversation with Blix
The NYTimes Magazine’s interview with the former UN inspector Hans Blix comes at a bad moment for Bush given the current Clarke controversy. I know most of my readers do glance at the Magazine themselves, but if you bypassed this, at least read these snippets:
[context: Blix, once in agreement with the administration about weapons, reversed himself when inspections of the best possible sites revealed nothing; the interviewer commented at the end that Blix’ conversational style was ‘salty’—by which I suppose she meant that Blix seemed spicy rather than bland.]
Good point.
[context: Blix, once in agreement with the administration about weapons, reversed himself when inspections of the best possible sites revealed nothing; the interviewer commented at the end that Blix’ conversational style was ‘salty’—by which I suppose she meant that Blix seemed spicy rather than bland.]
Q: You never met [Saddam Hussein]?
A: He considered it far below his dignity to meet any sort of lowly creatures like international inspectors.
Q: Can one say the same of certain leaders in democratic countries? Wasn’t Vice President Cheney equally dismissive of you?
A: The Pentagon and Cheney have been very negative toward inspections. Cheney said inspections are useless at best.
Q: …you met with the president in the Oval Office?
A: It didn’t look very oval to me at the time, but I didn’t pay much attention. It was Colin Powell, Cheney and Bush and others—and a note taker! [He had earlier stated that no note takers were offered to the inspectors] They had one on their side and we had none on ours!
Q: Couldn’t you just have jotted down a few notes on the pad?
A: It’s not the decorum when you meet the president. You have to concentrate on the conversation.
Q: What was Bush like?
A: He was agile, moving, moving in the chair, especially compared to Cheney.
Q: Who, I suppose, seems more wooden.
A: Yes, the rumors that Cheney is alive are somewhat exaggerated. It’s Mark Twain in reverse.
[referring to Twain’s comment that the rumors of his death were greatly exaggerated.]
…..
Q: What do you think of John Kerry?
A: I welcome his attitude toward multilateral cooperation. I think he is trying to get back to the traditional US attitudes.
Q: What do you make of the presidential race?
A: I think maybe we foreigners should have the right to vote in your next election, since we are so dependent on you.
Good point.
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Madison is a one-movie-kinda-town
(don’t bother with this post if you aren’t interested in Eternal Sunshine)
A number of UW Madison bloggers whose blogs I track (here, here, here and again here) saw Eternal Sunshine this week. Obviously this is a small town and everyone sees only one movie each week and it is the same movie, because, indeed, I saw it as well.
It’s easy to get yourself thinking that this is a story about real emotions, as experienced by you and me. It’s a movie that casts shadows of human traits onto the audience, so that you find yourself embracing the reluctant, shy, introvert Joel, and applauding the tenacity and spunk of the wild and zestful Clementine.
You could say, however, that Joel and Clementine are not at all different: they are both Very Needy People. Sure, the film makes Clementine out to be generous and kind, bestowing her affect on a guy who knows not how to “live.” She is the rescuer, the golden light of dawn for him.
But why do we buy into this characterization? Could it be that Clementine is quite the opposite: a brazen woman who needs attention, picking on men who are likely to be attracted to her display of charisma? And Joel, her male friend: mightn’t he be a drifter, refusing to take emotional responsibility for any of the women (what ever happened to his poor left-behind Naomi)? It’s interesting how this quiet, staid guy has a bit of anger within him. Certainly Clementine does as well. They each have a past, only at these early stages of their relationship (and we are always viewing it as it is just beginning) it remains underground. The cynics wont be leaving the theater thinking “whew, they worked out their problems, what a relief.” They’ll say –“I give them at best 4 months until they split up again since both display the emotional maturity of adolescents.”
It’s a good movie, no doubt about it – the directing and editing alone make it a stunning film: there is a scene where Joel is once again young, but really not, but really yes, young, and Clem is in the kitchen with him: the shift from little boy to grown man to Clem to Joel again is nothing short of brilliant.
As for the “message?” Oh, obvious, is it? Given that it was directed by Gondry, one could run with the idea that perhaps love is so primordial that it will resurrect itself, arising from the chemistry between people: it’s nature, not nurture, it’s a match or its not. What brought you together last year will bring you together again ten years from now, not for sentimental reasons at all, but because there is something between the two of you that causes canons to roar.
A number of UW Madison bloggers whose blogs I track (here, here, here and again here) saw Eternal Sunshine this week. Obviously this is a small town and everyone sees only one movie each week and it is the same movie, because, indeed, I saw it as well.
It’s easy to get yourself thinking that this is a story about real emotions, as experienced by you and me. It’s a movie that casts shadows of human traits onto the audience, so that you find yourself embracing the reluctant, shy, introvert Joel, and applauding the tenacity and spunk of the wild and zestful Clementine.
You could say, however, that Joel and Clementine are not at all different: they are both Very Needy People. Sure, the film makes Clementine out to be generous and kind, bestowing her affect on a guy who knows not how to “live.” She is the rescuer, the golden light of dawn for him.
But why do we buy into this characterization? Could it be that Clementine is quite the opposite: a brazen woman who needs attention, picking on men who are likely to be attracted to her display of charisma? And Joel, her male friend: mightn’t he be a drifter, refusing to take emotional responsibility for any of the women (what ever happened to his poor left-behind Naomi)? It’s interesting how this quiet, staid guy has a bit of anger within him. Certainly Clementine does as well. They each have a past, only at these early stages of their relationship (and we are always viewing it as it is just beginning) it remains underground. The cynics wont be leaving the theater thinking “whew, they worked out their problems, what a relief.” They’ll say –“I give them at best 4 months until they split up again since both display the emotional maturity of adolescents.”
It’s a good movie, no doubt about it – the directing and editing alone make it a stunning film: there is a scene where Joel is once again young, but really not, but really yes, young, and Clem is in the kitchen with him: the shift from little boy to grown man to Clem to Joel again is nothing short of brilliant.
As for the “message?” Oh, obvious, is it? Given that it was directed by Gondry, one could run with the idea that perhaps love is so primordial that it will resurrect itself, arising from the chemistry between people: it’s nature, not nurture, it’s a match or its not. What brought you together last year will bring you together again ten years from now, not for sentimental reasons at all, but because there is something between the two of you that causes canons to roar.
Madison is a one-movie-kinda-town
(don’t bother with this post if you aren’t interested in Eternal Sunshine)
A number of UW Madison bloggers whose blogs I track (here, here, here and again here) saw Eternal Sunshine this week. Obviously this is a small town and everyone sees only one movie each week and it is the same movie, because, indeed, I saw it as well.
It’s easy to get yourself thinking that this is a story about real emotions, as experienced by you and me. It’s a movie that casts shadows of human traits onto the audience, so that you find yourself embracing the reluctant, shy, introvert Joel, and applauding the tenacity and spunk of the wild and zestful Clementine.
You could say, however, that Joel and Clementine are not at all different: they are both Very Needy People. Sure, the film makes Clementine out to be generous and kind, bestowing her affect on a guy who knows not how to “live.” She is the rescuer, the golden light of dawn for him.
But why do we buy into this characterization? Could it be that Clementine is quite the opposite: a brazen woman who needs attention, picking on men who are likely to be attracted to her display of charisma? And Joel, her male friend: mightn’t he be a drifter, refusing to take emotional responsibility for any of the women (what ever happened to his poor left-behind Naomi)? It’s interesting how this quiet, staid guy has a bit of anger within him. Certainly Clementine does as well. They each have a past, only at these early stages of their relationship (and we are always viewing it as it is just beginning) it remains underground. The cynics wont be leaving the theater thinking “whew, they worked out their problems, what a relief.” They’ll say –“I give them at best 4 months until they split up again since both display the emotional maturity of adolescents.”
It’s a good movie, no doubt about it – the directing and editing alone make it a stunning film: there is a scene where Joel is once again young, but really not, but really yes, young, and Clem is in the kitchen with him: the shift from little boy to grown man to Clem to Joel again is nothing short of brilliant.
As for the “message?” Oh, obvious, is it? Given that it was directed by Gondry, one could run with the idea that perhaps love is so primordial that it will resurrect itself, arising from the chemistry between people: it’s nature, not nurture, it’s a match or its not. What brought you together last year will bring you together again ten years from now, not for sentimental reasons at all, but because there is something between the two of you that causes canons to roar.
A number of UW Madison bloggers whose blogs I track (here, here, here and again here) saw Eternal Sunshine this week. Obviously this is a small town and everyone sees only one movie each week and it is the same movie, because, indeed, I saw it as well.
It’s easy to get yourself thinking that this is a story about real emotions, as experienced by you and me. It’s a movie that casts shadows of human traits onto the audience, so that you find yourself embracing the reluctant, shy, introvert Joel, and applauding the tenacity and spunk of the wild and zestful Clementine.
You could say, however, that Joel and Clementine are not at all different: they are both Very Needy People. Sure, the film makes Clementine out to be generous and kind, bestowing her affect on a guy who knows not how to “live.” She is the rescuer, the golden light of dawn for him.
But why do we buy into this characterization? Could it be that Clementine is quite the opposite: a brazen woman who needs attention, picking on men who are likely to be attracted to her display of charisma? And Joel, her male friend: mightn’t he be a drifter, refusing to take emotional responsibility for any of the women (what ever happened to his poor left-behind Naomi)? It’s interesting how this quiet, staid guy has a bit of anger within him. Certainly Clementine does as well. They each have a past, only at these early stages of their relationship (and we are always viewing it as it is just beginning) it remains underground. The cynics wont be leaving the theater thinking “whew, they worked out their problems, what a relief.” They’ll say –“I give them at best 4 months until they split up again since both display the emotional maturity of adolescents.”
It’s a good movie, no doubt about it – the directing and editing alone make it a stunning film: there is a scene where Joel is once again young, but really not, but really yes, young, and Clem is in the kitchen with him: the shift from little boy to grown man to Clem to Joel again is nothing short of brilliant.
As for the “message?” Oh, obvious, is it? Given that it was directed by Gondry, one could run with the idea that perhaps love is so primordial that it will resurrect itself, arising from the chemistry between people: it’s nature, not nurture, it’s a match or its not. What brought you together last year will bring you together again ten years from now, not for sentimental reasons at all, but because there is something between the two of you that causes canons to roar.
NPR Notes
Q: On what grounds might German violinists (from the Beethoven Orchestra—this is a hint of sorts; think: many complicated measures) sue for a pay raise?A: The action can be based on the claim that they play more notes per concert than their musical colleagues.
Rebuttal: Orchestra officials have responded that “the violinists knew this when they began taking violin lessons -- and if they wanted to play fewer notes, they should have chosen a different instrument.”
NPR Notes
Q: On what grounds might German violinists (from the Beethoven Orchestra—this is a hint of sorts; think: many complicated measures) sue for a pay raise?A: The action can be based on the claim that they play more notes per concert than their musical colleagues.
Rebuttal: Orchestra officials have responded that “the violinists knew this when they began taking violin lessons -- and if they wanted to play fewer notes, they should have chosen a different instrument.”
the brain: no repetition, constant recreation
I read the NYT article (here) on Dr. Edelman’s work on the brain twice, because I wasn’t sure I was picking up the pieces in a coherent way. I can’t begin to summarize it in the usual 2-sentenced oversimplification that I do here—I’m sure to get it wrong.
But if you are just looking for the punch line (in the way that you would summarize the holding in a legal case for an exam outline) then you can go from title of the article: “The Brain? It’s a Jungle in There,” to the last 2 lines: “But this vision [referring here to the idea that human consciousness is born out of accident and diversity] can also spur discomfort, because it implies that there is no supervising soul or self — nobody is standing behind the curtain. This, for Dr. Edelman, is Darwin's final burden.” That pretty much puts you right into the heart of the matter (forgive the organ-hopping here).
Thus we are stuck without a soul, only new and intricate mappings, one after another, millions of them, setting the course of thought and action. No conductor in there, no inside little guy pushing buttons, selecting, or optimizing. It’s a comfort really – no one to blame for excesses (such as blogging or emailing) – somewhere along the line those patterns became entrenched and there is no one inside to reset the brain and start all over again.
But if you are just looking for the punch line (in the way that you would summarize the holding in a legal case for an exam outline) then you can go from title of the article: “The Brain? It’s a Jungle in There,” to the last 2 lines: “But this vision [referring here to the idea that human consciousness is born out of accident and diversity] can also spur discomfort, because it implies that there is no supervising soul or self — nobody is standing behind the curtain. This, for Dr. Edelman, is Darwin's final burden.” That pretty much puts you right into the heart of the matter (forgive the organ-hopping here).
Thus we are stuck without a soul, only new and intricate mappings, one after another, millions of them, setting the course of thought and action. No conductor in there, no inside little guy pushing buttons, selecting, or optimizing. It’s a comfort really – no one to blame for excesses (such as blogging or emailing) – somewhere along the line those patterns became entrenched and there is no one inside to reset the brain and start all over again.
the brain: no repetition, constant recreation
I read the NYT article (here) on Dr. Edelman’s work on the brain twice, because I wasn’t sure I was picking up the pieces in a coherent way. I can’t begin to summarize it in the usual 2-sentenced oversimplification that I do here—I’m sure to get it wrong.
But if you are just looking for the punch line (in the way that you would summarize the holding in a legal case for an exam outline) then you can go from title of the article: “The Brain? It’s a Jungle in There,” to the last 2 lines: “But this vision [referring here to the idea that human consciousness is born out of accident and diversity] can also spur discomfort, because it implies that there is no supervising soul or self — nobody is standing behind the curtain. This, for Dr. Edelman, is Darwin's final burden.” That pretty much puts you right into the heart of the matter (forgive the organ-hopping here).
Thus we are stuck without a soul, only new and intricate mappings, one after another, millions of them, setting the course of thought and action. No conductor in there, no inside little guy pushing buttons, selecting, or optimizing. It’s a comfort really – no one to blame for excesses (such as blogging or emailing) – somewhere along the line those patterns became entrenched and there is no one inside to reset the brain and start all over again.
But if you are just looking for the punch line (in the way that you would summarize the holding in a legal case for an exam outline) then you can go from title of the article: “The Brain? It’s a Jungle in There,” to the last 2 lines: “But this vision [referring here to the idea that human consciousness is born out of accident and diversity] can also spur discomfort, because it implies that there is no supervising soul or self — nobody is standing behind the curtain. This, for Dr. Edelman, is Darwin's final burden.” That pretty much puts you right into the heart of the matter (forgive the organ-hopping here).
Thus we are stuck without a soul, only new and intricate mappings, one after another, millions of them, setting the course of thought and action. No conductor in there, no inside little guy pushing buttons, selecting, or optimizing. It’s a comfort really – no one to blame for excesses (such as blogging or emailing) – somewhere along the line those patterns became entrenched and there is no one inside to reset the brain and start all over again.
Time
Yesterday I had a chance to spend time with a visiting professor – someone whom I hadn’t seen since graduate school in the 70s. This man had single-handedly saved my plummeting confidence in academia. I eventually did leave academia for a while, but it was then a deliberate rather than desperate move.
The prof is now retired and he splits his time between Paris and SF (not a bad lineup of cities I must admit). That is fitting for a person who in my mind is sort of a poetic hero, infused with the worship one reserves for the leaders in one’s life (he doesn’t know that I feel this way about him).
People who save us from the worst aspects of ourselves are indeed heroes. But over time, they disappear and new heroes come to replace them. What a luxury it was to meet again, 28 years later. I never could quite say thank you in the way that I wanted to. Though as I listened to his little impromptu jazz piano playing later in the evening, I thought it didn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. People of that type are often so personally modest that they do not have a sense of their own force vis-Ã -vis others.
[a photo of said prof, playing jazz---->]
The prof is now retired and he splits his time between Paris and SF (not a bad lineup of cities I must admit). That is fitting for a person who in my mind is sort of a poetic hero, infused with the worship one reserves for the leaders in one’s life (he doesn’t know that I feel this way about him).People who save us from the worst aspects of ourselves are indeed heroes. But over time, they disappear and new heroes come to replace them. What a luxury it was to meet again, 28 years later. I never could quite say thank you in the way that I wanted to. Though as I listened to his little impromptu jazz piano playing later in the evening, I thought it didn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. People of that type are often so personally modest that they do not have a sense of their own force vis-Ã -vis others.
[a photo of said prof, playing jazz---->]
Time
Yesterday I had a chance to spend time with a visiting professor – someone whom I hadn’t seen since graduate school in the 70s. This man had single-handedly saved my plummeting confidence in academia. I eventually did leave academia for a while, but it was then a deliberate rather than desperate move.
The prof is now retired and he splits his time between Paris and SF (not a bad lineup of cities I must admit). That is fitting for a person who in my mind is sort of a poetic hero, infused with the worship one reserves for the leaders in one’s life (he doesn’t know that I feel this way about him).
People who save us from the worst aspects of ourselves are indeed heroes. But over time, they disappear and new heroes come to replace them. What a luxury it was to meet again, 28 years later. I never could quite say thank you in the way that I wanted to. Though as I listened to his little impromptu jazz piano playing later in the evening, I thought it didn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. People of that type are often so personally modest that they do not have a sense of their own force vis-Ã -vis others.
[a photo of said prof, playing jazz---->]
The prof is now retired and he splits his time between Paris and SF (not a bad lineup of cities I must admit). That is fitting for a person who in my mind is sort of a poetic hero, infused with the worship one reserves for the leaders in one’s life (he doesn’t know that I feel this way about him).People who save us from the worst aspects of ourselves are indeed heroes. But over time, they disappear and new heroes come to replace them. What a luxury it was to meet again, 28 years later. I never could quite say thank you in the way that I wanted to. Though as I listened to his little impromptu jazz piano playing later in the evening, I thought it didn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. People of that type are often so personally modest that they do not have a sense of their own force vis-Ã -vis others.
[a photo of said prof, playing jazz---->]
Poland at the cusp of something, but what?
Almost my entire political self is focused on my homeland today. With news of the resignation of the Prime Minister, Leszek Miller (I was right! You can’t fall below 0% approval ratings! He slipped from 10% to 5% in two days! The man HAD to step down), I now see this tense month of waiting while the entire nation focuses on the opening of the EU gates on May1st. Yet, I wonder, are these gates of heaven or gates of hell? For most Poles, the benefits of being in the EU are far away (read about it in the NYT today here)—possibly to be realized by the next generation of Poles; it’s a theoretical gift to the children, not to anyone currently living on the edge.
And there is the matter of the United States: it pains me to see this – it’s like a relationship where one person has all the love and the other has all the power. Poland is the most “in love with America” country I have ever seen. The support for military action in Iraq is a good example of this: most Poles are currently opposed to Polish military presence in Iraq (or at least have grave doubts about its wisdom; President Kwasniewski has publicly stated that he feels Poland was mislead about WMD and about the urgency of waging war to combat terrorism). Yet there is no protest (contrast Poland with Spain, where a government was toppled, to some degree because of Iraq). Poles just go along with the inevitability of this, because America has placed this demand for loyalty and they feel themselves obliged to deliver.
In return? The blasted object of affection wont even give them a small gift, one that Poles have been meekly requesting for years: the right to travel to the US without a visa. So many of my friends refuse to come here for a visit because of the INDIGNITY of having to wait in huge lines, filling out countless forms, waiting for the magic “yes” or “no” before they can board the plane. For the many who have relatives in the States, the humiliation has to be put aside. For those who would travel just for the sake of travel, it is not worth it.
My wonderful, brutally hardened yet resilient Poland. How much suffering can one country endure in a period of 200 years?
And there is the matter of the United States: it pains me to see this – it’s like a relationship where one person has all the love and the other has all the power. Poland is the most “in love with America” country I have ever seen. The support for military action in Iraq is a good example of this: most Poles are currently opposed to Polish military presence in Iraq (or at least have grave doubts about its wisdom; President Kwasniewski has publicly stated that he feels Poland was mislead about WMD and about the urgency of waging war to combat terrorism). Yet there is no protest (contrast Poland with Spain, where a government was toppled, to some degree because of Iraq). Poles just go along with the inevitability of this, because America has placed this demand for loyalty and they feel themselves obliged to deliver.
In return? The blasted object of affection wont even give them a small gift, one that Poles have been meekly requesting for years: the right to travel to the US without a visa. So many of my friends refuse to come here for a visit because of the INDIGNITY of having to wait in huge lines, filling out countless forms, waiting for the magic “yes” or “no” before they can board the plane. For the many who have relatives in the States, the humiliation has to be put aside. For those who would travel just for the sake of travel, it is not worth it.
My wonderful, brutally hardened yet resilient Poland. How much suffering can one country endure in a period of 200 years?
Poland at the cusp of something, but what?
Almost my entire political self is focused on my homeland today. With news of the resignation of the Prime Minister, Leszek Miller (I was right! You can’t fall below 0% approval ratings! He slipped from 10% to 5% in two days! The man HAD to step down), I now see this tense month of waiting while the entire nation focuses on the opening of the EU gates on May1st. Yet, I wonder, are these gates of heaven or gates of hell? For most Poles, the benefits of being in the EU are far away (read about it in the NYT today here)—possibly to be realized by the next generation of Poles; it’s a theoretical gift to the children, not to anyone currently living on the edge.
And there is the matter of the United States: it pains me to see this – it’s like a relationship where one person has all the love and the other has all the power. Poland is the most “in love with America” country I have ever seen. The support for military action in Iraq is a good example of this: most Poles are currently opposed to Polish military presence in Iraq (or at least have grave doubts about its wisdom; President Kwasniewski has publicly stated that he feels Poland was mislead about WMD and about the urgency of waging war to combat terrorism). Yet there is no protest (contrast Poland with Spain, where a government was toppled, to some degree because of Iraq). Poles just go along with the inevitability of this, because America has placed this demand for loyalty and they feel themselves obliged to deliver.
In return? The blasted object of affection wont even give them a small gift, one that Poles have been meekly requesting for years: the right to travel to the US without a visa. So many of my friends refuse to come here for a visit because of the INDIGNITY of having to wait in huge lines, filling out countless forms, waiting for the magic “yes” or “no” before they can board the plane. For the many who have relatives in the States, the humiliation has to be put aside. For those who would travel just for the sake of travel, it is not worth it.
My wonderful, brutally hardened yet resilient Poland. How much suffering can one country endure in a period of 200 years?
And there is the matter of the United States: it pains me to see this – it’s like a relationship where one person has all the love and the other has all the power. Poland is the most “in love with America” country I have ever seen. The support for military action in Iraq is a good example of this: most Poles are currently opposed to Polish military presence in Iraq (or at least have grave doubts about its wisdom; President Kwasniewski has publicly stated that he feels Poland was mislead about WMD and about the urgency of waging war to combat terrorism). Yet there is no protest (contrast Poland with Spain, where a government was toppled, to some degree because of Iraq). Poles just go along with the inevitability of this, because America has placed this demand for loyalty and they feel themselves obliged to deliver.
In return? The blasted object of affection wont even give them a small gift, one that Poles have been meekly requesting for years: the right to travel to the US without a visa. So many of my friends refuse to come here for a visit because of the INDIGNITY of having to wait in huge lines, filling out countless forms, waiting for the magic “yes” or “no” before they can board the plane. For the many who have relatives in the States, the humiliation has to be put aside. For those who would travel just for the sake of travel, it is not worth it.
My wonderful, brutally hardened yet resilient Poland. How much suffering can one country endure in a period of 200 years?
Friday, March 26, 2004
A threesome
A reader (who obviously cares deeply about my well being, but knows little about how light a sleeper I am) forwarded me an article about a strange occurrence in Oklahoma. A couple woke up yesterday morning to find a burglar sleeping in bed with them (see story here). The man had broken down their door and robbed them of their cell phone and loose cash before snuggling in besides them.
I think my friend is protectively suggesting that I lock my doors carefully each night, but she needn’t worry. This incident could NEVER happen to me. I wake up when the neighbor down the block sneezes. I wake up when the clock passes the hour (I think it’s a tad noisier as the minute hand circumvents the 12). I wake up for any and every reason. Alright, a bit of an exaggeration there, but I would absolutely most certainly wake up if a foul-smelling drunkard pocketed my cell phone and fell asleep next to me.
I think my friend is protectively suggesting that I lock my doors carefully each night, but she needn’t worry. This incident could NEVER happen to me. I wake up when the neighbor down the block sneezes. I wake up when the clock passes the hour (I think it’s a tad noisier as the minute hand circumvents the 12). I wake up for any and every reason. Alright, a bit of an exaggeration there, but I would absolutely most certainly wake up if a foul-smelling drunkard pocketed my cell phone and fell asleep next to me.
A threesome
A reader (who obviously cares deeply about my well being, but knows little about how light a sleeper I am) forwarded me an article about a strange occurrence in Oklahoma. A couple woke up yesterday morning to find a burglar sleeping in bed with them (see story here). The man had broken down their door and robbed them of their cell phone and loose cash before snuggling in besides them.
I think my friend is protectively suggesting that I lock my doors carefully each night, but she needn’t worry. This incident could NEVER happen to me. I wake up when the neighbor down the block sneezes. I wake up when the clock passes the hour (I think it’s a tad noisier as the minute hand circumvents the 12). I wake up for any and every reason. Alright, a bit of an exaggeration there, but I would absolutely most certainly wake up if a foul-smelling drunkard pocketed my cell phone and fell asleep next to me.
I think my friend is protectively suggesting that I lock my doors carefully each night, but she needn’t worry. This incident could NEVER happen to me. I wake up when the neighbor down the block sneezes. I wake up when the clock passes the hour (I think it’s a tad noisier as the minute hand circumvents the 12). I wake up for any and every reason. Alright, a bit of an exaggeration there, but I would absolutely most certainly wake up if a foul-smelling drunkard pocketed my cell phone and fell asleep next to me.
Continuing on the theme of Spring
Not finding enough happy people around me to exchange spring-related jokes and comments, I googled the words that describe my mood at the moment: “spring madness.”
The predominant listing is for the 1938 movie by that title. Here’s how it is described:
Category: Comedy
Director: S.Sylvan Simon
Cast: Lew Ayre, Burgess Meredith, Maureen O’Sullivan
Running time: 1 hr 20 mins
Summary: A coed’s love for a Harvard editor is threatened when she learns that he and his friends are planning a trip to Russia.
One could really take to task this laconic summary on any number of grounds. I’ll only say this: it recalls the time when it was an anathema for most Americans to call the Soviet Union by its name. Russia, then as now, was only one region. Possibly, the Harvard editor was indeed traveling only to Russia. Few ventured beyond Moscow in those days. But why do I think the choice of the R word was not for reasons of geographical precision, but because the writer and movie itself do not understand the distinction between the SU and R? Or that they did not like that the pre-Revolution Russia became the post-Revolution Soviet Union?
My fears on this are confirmed when I read yet another reviewer’s lovely choice of words (I’m avoiding commenting here on the plot line; this is, after all, a 1938 movie):
This comedy implies that the far-flung plan of a college student to visit Communist Russia has little chance when women conspire to restrain him with the lures of marriage and a good job.
All my childhood days I would hear Americans speak of Russia, the country, as if their souls would turn commie red if they even said the word “Soviet.”
But today, I am unruffled. Spring madness is more than just the movie. BTW, elsewhere on Google, the movie gets a rating of two stars (I can’t say out of how many, but two sounds pretty low under any rating scheme).
The predominant listing is for the 1938 movie by that title. Here’s how it is described:
Category: Comedy
Director: S.Sylvan Simon
Cast: Lew Ayre, Burgess Meredith, Maureen O’Sullivan
Running time: 1 hr 20 mins
Summary: A coed’s love for a Harvard editor is threatened when she learns that he and his friends are planning a trip to Russia.
One could really take to task this laconic summary on any number of grounds. I’ll only say this: it recalls the time when it was an anathema for most Americans to call the Soviet Union by its name. Russia, then as now, was only one region. Possibly, the Harvard editor was indeed traveling only to Russia. Few ventured beyond Moscow in those days. But why do I think the choice of the R word was not for reasons of geographical precision, but because the writer and movie itself do not understand the distinction between the SU and R? Or that they did not like that the pre-Revolution Russia became the post-Revolution Soviet Union?
My fears on this are confirmed when I read yet another reviewer’s lovely choice of words (I’m avoiding commenting here on the plot line; this is, after all, a 1938 movie):
This comedy implies that the far-flung plan of a college student to visit Communist Russia has little chance when women conspire to restrain him with the lures of marriage and a good job.
All my childhood days I would hear Americans speak of Russia, the country, as if their souls would turn commie red if they even said the word “Soviet.”
But today, I am unruffled. Spring madness is more than just the movie. BTW, elsewhere on Google, the movie gets a rating of two stars (I can’t say out of how many, but two sounds pretty low under any rating scheme).
Continuing on the theme of Spring
Not finding enough happy people around me to exchange spring-related jokes and comments, I googled the words that describe my mood at the moment: “spring madness.”
The predominant listing is for the 1938 movie by that title. Here’s how it is described:
Category: Comedy
Director: S.Sylvan Simon
Cast: Lew Ayre, Burgess Meredith, Maureen O’Sullivan
Running time: 1 hr 20 mins
Summary: A coed’s love for a Harvard editor is threatened when she learns that he and his friends are planning a trip to Russia.
One could really take to task this laconic summary on any number of grounds. I’ll only say this: it recalls the time when it was an anathema for most Americans to call the Soviet Union by its name. Russia, then as now, was only one region. Possibly, the Harvard editor was indeed traveling only to Russia. Few ventured beyond Moscow in those days. But why do I think the choice of the R word was not for reasons of geographical precision, but because the writer and movie itself do not understand the distinction between the SU and R? Or that they did not like that the pre-Revolution Russia became the post-Revolution Soviet Union?
My fears on this are confirmed when I read yet another reviewer’s lovely choice of words (I’m avoiding commenting here on the plot line; this is, after all, a 1938 movie):
This comedy implies that the far-flung plan of a college student to visit Communist Russia has little chance when women conspire to restrain him with the lures of marriage and a good job.
All my childhood days I would hear Americans speak of Russia, the country, as if their souls would turn commie red if they even said the word “Soviet.”
But today, I am unruffled. Spring madness is more than just the movie. BTW, elsewhere on Google, the movie gets a rating of two stars (I can’t say out of how many, but two sounds pretty low under any rating scheme).
The predominant listing is for the 1938 movie by that title. Here’s how it is described:
Category: Comedy
Director: S.Sylvan Simon
Cast: Lew Ayre, Burgess Meredith, Maureen O’Sullivan
Running time: 1 hr 20 mins
Summary: A coed’s love for a Harvard editor is threatened when she learns that he and his friends are planning a trip to Russia.
One could really take to task this laconic summary on any number of grounds. I’ll only say this: it recalls the time when it was an anathema for most Americans to call the Soviet Union by its name. Russia, then as now, was only one region. Possibly, the Harvard editor was indeed traveling only to Russia. Few ventured beyond Moscow in those days. But why do I think the choice of the R word was not for reasons of geographical precision, but because the writer and movie itself do not understand the distinction between the SU and R? Or that they did not like that the pre-Revolution Russia became the post-Revolution Soviet Union?
My fears on this are confirmed when I read yet another reviewer’s lovely choice of words (I’m avoiding commenting here on the plot line; this is, after all, a 1938 movie):
This comedy implies that the far-flung plan of a college student to visit Communist Russia has little chance when women conspire to restrain him with the lures of marriage and a good job.
All my childhood days I would hear Americans speak of Russia, the country, as if their souls would turn commie red if they even said the word “Soviet.”
But today, I am unruffled. Spring madness is more than just the movie. BTW, elsewhere on Google, the movie gets a rating of two stars (I can’t say out of how many, but two sounds pretty low under any rating scheme).
I’m not the only one enlivened by the sudden appearance of Spring
A friend who lives in Arizona is equally transfixed. Remarkably, her moment of magic also struck within the last 24 hours. She writes:
“…why do I feel like I want to make a life with more freshness? After all, I have my tender seedlings popping their way into my garden and the flowers are blooming and the quail are kicking up
their feather in anticipation of drawing their mates.”
The imagery is so lovely that I had to look up quail in the hope of envisioning more accurately how their feathers may be kicking up. After sifting through files of photos of quail on a plate, or quail being carried by hunting hounds, I came up with the following far preferable picture.---->
“…why do I feel like I want to make a life with more freshness? After all, I have my tender seedlings popping their way into my garden and the flowers are blooming and the quail are kicking up
their feather in anticipation of drawing their mates.”
The imagery is so lovely that I had to look up quail in the hope of envisioning more accurately how their feathers may be kicking up. After sifting through files of photos of quail on a plate, or quail being carried by hunting hounds, I came up with the following far preferable picture.---->
I’m not the only one enlivened by the sudden appearance of Spring
A friend who lives in Arizona is equally transfixed. Remarkably, her moment of magic also struck within the last 24 hours. She writes:
“…why do I feel like I want to make a life with more freshness? After all, I have my tender seedlings popping their way into my garden and the flowers are blooming and the quail are kicking up
their feather in anticipation of drawing their mates.”
The imagery is so lovely that I had to look up quail in the hope of envisioning more accurately how their feathers may be kicking up. After sifting through files of photos of quail on a plate, or quail being carried by hunting hounds, I came up with the following far preferable picture.---->
“…why do I feel like I want to make a life with more freshness? After all, I have my tender seedlings popping their way into my garden and the flowers are blooming and the quail are kicking up
their feather in anticipation of drawing their mates.”
The imagery is so lovely that I had to look up quail in the hope of envisioning more accurately how their feathers may be kicking up. After sifting through files of photos of quail on a plate, or quail being carried by hunting hounds, I came up with the following far preferable picture.---->
A grass high
It was a night of miracles. The day ends, you expect nothing and suddenly: BLAST! Spring makes a midnight appearance, and the world changes into one big field of green grass. No one should be blogging now. Urgent message to all those living in Madison who can spare even 5 or 10 minutes: GO OUTSIDE AND SMELL THAT AIR!
A grass high
It was a night of miracles. The day ends, you expect nothing and suddenly: BLAST! Spring makes a midnight appearance, and the world changes into one big field of green grass. No one should be blogging now. Urgent message to all those living in Madison who can spare even 5 or 10 minutes: GO OUTSIDE AND SMELL THAT AIR!
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Ollie is fine, thank you
No fewer than TWO readers wrote this week and signed their message with the following missive; “be nice to your dog, Ollie” (or words to that effect).
Now listen here. I AM nice to the beast. Yesterday I dashed home in between work and book group just to walk him, feed him, and, as it turned out – give him a bath, since he seemed to smell funny. I was late for everything after that. Today – the same: I’m home FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF ATTENDING TO HIS ROYAL EVENING NEEDS. I could be sipping an aperitif or a latte on State Street (I have to be downtown this evening), I could be taking a walk by the Union and watching the ebb and flow of water, I could be in an arm chair of the swanky new coffee shop downtown, but NO, I am home dog-tending.
It is interesting that one of the readers explained in her email that she had had a run in with her cat, resulting in “accidental” scratches on her face and some black and blue marks around her eye. When I suggested that she perhaps trade in her cat for a new television set, she leapt to his defense as if I had advocated tying him to a stake with a match underneath to make him squirm and repent.
The idea that I am not an animal fan has to be put to rest. I think pets are cool—especially if they don’t require much care and don’t scratch your face. So, rest assured, Ollie does fine. Basically, he likes to sleep. That is his life. I have absolutely no problem with that.
Now listen here. I AM nice to the beast. Yesterday I dashed home in between work and book group just to walk him, feed him, and, as it turned out – give him a bath, since he seemed to smell funny. I was late for everything after that. Today – the same: I’m home FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF ATTENDING TO HIS ROYAL EVENING NEEDS. I could be sipping an aperitif or a latte on State Street (I have to be downtown this evening), I could be taking a walk by the Union and watching the ebb and flow of water, I could be in an arm chair of the swanky new coffee shop downtown, but NO, I am home dog-tending.
It is interesting that one of the readers explained in her email that she had had a run in with her cat, resulting in “accidental” scratches on her face and some black and blue marks around her eye. When I suggested that she perhaps trade in her cat for a new television set, she leapt to his defense as if I had advocated tying him to a stake with a match underneath to make him squirm and repent.
The idea that I am not an animal fan has to be put to rest. I think pets are cool—especially if they don’t require much care and don’t scratch your face. So, rest assured, Ollie does fine. Basically, he likes to sleep. That is his life. I have absolutely no problem with that.
Ollie is fine, thank you
No fewer than TWO readers wrote this week and signed their message with the following missive; “be nice to your dog, Ollie” (or words to that effect).
Now listen here. I AM nice to the beast. Yesterday I dashed home in between work and book group just to walk him, feed him, and, as it turned out – give him a bath, since he seemed to smell funny. I was late for everything after that. Today – the same: I’m home FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF ATTENDING TO HIS ROYAL EVENING NEEDS. I could be sipping an aperitif or a latte on State Street (I have to be downtown this evening), I could be taking a walk by the Union and watching the ebb and flow of water, I could be in an arm chair of the swanky new coffee shop downtown, but NO, I am home dog-tending.
It is interesting that one of the readers explained in her email that she had had a run in with her cat, resulting in “accidental” scratches on her face and some black and blue marks around her eye. When I suggested that she perhaps trade in her cat for a new television set, she leapt to his defense as if I had advocated tying him to a stake with a match underneath to make him squirm and repent.
The idea that I am not an animal fan has to be put to rest. I think pets are cool—especially if they don’t require much care and don’t scratch your face. So, rest assured, Ollie does fine. Basically, he likes to sleep. That is his life. I have absolutely no problem with that.
Now listen here. I AM nice to the beast. Yesterday I dashed home in between work and book group just to walk him, feed him, and, as it turned out – give him a bath, since he seemed to smell funny. I was late for everything after that. Today – the same: I’m home FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF ATTENDING TO HIS ROYAL EVENING NEEDS. I could be sipping an aperitif or a latte on State Street (I have to be downtown this evening), I could be taking a walk by the Union and watching the ebb and flow of water, I could be in an arm chair of the swanky new coffee shop downtown, but NO, I am home dog-tending.
It is interesting that one of the readers explained in her email that she had had a run in with her cat, resulting in “accidental” scratches on her face and some black and blue marks around her eye. When I suggested that she perhaps trade in her cat for a new television set, she leapt to his defense as if I had advocated tying him to a stake with a match underneath to make him squirm and repent.
The idea that I am not an animal fan has to be put to rest. I think pets are cool—especially if they don’t require much care and don’t scratch your face. So, rest assured, Ollie does fine. Basically, he likes to sleep. That is his life. I have absolutely no problem with that.
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