You Want More Than This

I love this commercial so much it took a few goes to realize what it advertised.

If I could stuff myself into a small space one morning and get out of it at night a better person I would. Instead, I keep going to work with my fingers crossed.

If We’re In A Garden Or On

Drusy's secret love: a feather pillow. They try to hide it but they only have eyes for each other.

In the Times Square Olive Garden, my sister Daria, Pete and I met two of our cousins from Guatemala. You may remember two years ago, my brilliant cousin swam around Manhattan, rendering me speechless. Thus, we were overjoyed to see our champion again, but this time she brought her mother.

More than thirty years ago, my grandfather Andy found her. She didn’t know she was missing. He was an only child of immigrant parents. Her grandfather Giovanni and my great-grandfather Carlo were brothers, and it meant everything to Andy that he had blood relatives besides his overly colorful children. He died a few years after he and my grandmother visited Guatemala, but his joy has remained impressed upon me all this time. When I saw her yesterday, she was tall, like he was. Her eyes were like his eyes. Her expressions were like his expressions. I can’t tell you how many times my heart skipped a beat because I’ve missed him so much. But she looked at me like she’d missed me, too, and maybe she did. She wants us to go to Guatemala.

It’s been awhile since I traveled. Plainly, I just heard the distant past describe a fantastic and once improbable future.

I Won’t Get Any Older Now

This OpEd covers many of the right points on the subject of J-1 visa exploitation, but it omits one truly important point: imagine the situation reversed. Imagine American medical students on a summer work/study vacation in an ostensibly friendly country – let’s say France – being forced to work for $1 an hour. You can’t imagine it because it would not happen without an international incident. The reason we heard about it at all was that those students were middle class kids insisting on being treated like middle class people.

We treat poor people all over the world this way every day, all the time.

Ice Is Slowly Melting

Though I promised Reverend Billy of the Church of Earthalujah I’d only buy free-range thongs and locally grown bras, I admit to backsliding so my ample rack wouldn’t, by which I mean bras were on sale at Stein Mart and I bought three. They were probably made in China but I can’t read the tag pressed up against my yoga-toned back muscles. Is it hot in here or is Climate Change happy to see me?

This chart is full of untasty surprises.

Tomatoes? How can yogurt and cheese be so different?

The report is worth reading, mostly for the purposes of review. You know how it is: you read something, your brain knits into socks you recognize in your mental sock drawer, then a year later, your brother-in-law tells you everyone has always worn striped tights. You know it’s not true, but how do you prove he’s a raving nutburger? So read the report.

Say Goodnight And Stay Together

Sometimes, the body misunderstands where it is in space. There’s a little thing you see gymnasts do all the time on the balance beam called a balance check. In a standing position, an off-balance gymnast will right herself quickly and with luck imperceptibly by bending her knees ever so slightly, contracting her glutes, squaring her shoulders and making solid contact between her feet and the beam. That sounds like a lot to do in a few milliseconds, but when you’ve done balance checks hundreds or thousands of times it becomes natural as blinking an eye. Often, it works and the athlete goes on with her routine. Sometimes a balance check fails and the athlete falls. I thought of it when I read Aravosis’s lament:

Since Democrats didn’t adequately defend the stimulus, and didn’t sufficiently paint the deficit as the Republicans’ doing, we now are not “politically” permitted to have a larger stimulus because the fiscal constraint has become more important than economic recovery.

And whose fault is that?

Apparently ours.

Bernstein said that the progressive blogs (perhaps he said progressive media in general) haven’t done enough over the past year to tell the positive side of the stimulus.

Emphasis: Aravosis. That was February 2010. Yesterday, he added:

I remember Bernstein specifically asking the Nation’s Chris Hayes whether he and his paper had done enough to help promote the benefits of the stimulus over the proceeding year. Chris said that they had just done a podcast about it that day, but yes he probably could have done more. I recall jumping in and noting that Chris was the last person Berstein should criticize, as he’s on Rachel Maddow every night defending the administration quite diligently.

The occasion of this recollection was an incident that happened at the White House the other day where Crooks & Liars blogger Mike Lux was present. As reported by Ben Smith at Politico:

Yesterday, [White House National Economic Council Director Gene] Sperling faced a series of questions about the White House’s concessions on the debt ceiling fight, and its inability to move in the directions of new taxes or revenues. Progressive consultant Mike Lux, the sources said, summed up the liberal concern, producing what a participant described as an “extremely defensive” response from Sperling.

Sperling, a person involved said, pointed his finger backed at liberal groups, which he said hadn’t done enough to highlight what he saw as the positive side of the debt package – a message that didn’t go over well with participants.

Perhaps I was the only person in all the all the world who, upon reading that, bent my knees slightly, tightened up my glutes, squared my shoulders and made solid contact between my feet and the surface I was standing on. In short: I suddenly understood where I was in space and righted myself.

The Obama Administration considers bloggers employees and not independent entities. Some bloggers consider themselves subservient to the administration. I am completely clear on who is supposed to work for whom and there’s something else. Someone should say these magic words the next time Sperling spews:

We don’t work for you. If you were doing good work for the American People, you wouldn’t need anyone to highlight anything. You could simply tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may, but you are not doing good work. You are for the most part failing the American People. You are upset because you know it, we know it, the People know it and you want our cover to sell your weak legislation. The answer is no. We have our own opinions, we expect better from you and we will continue to tell you so.

That is how you deliver pressure from the Left. The blogger who says this may get shut out, but he or she will win the admiration of principled people everywhere.

You Running To Jump In

I do not actually have a giant hand. UNLESS I DO!

I took the day off from work today to run some errands. At 10, I went back to the orthodontist. This was a slapstick affair. My front teeth crumbled over the winter and were replaced, which is a terror-neutral way to describe weeks of credit-destroying dental work followed by months of retainer aversion, all resulting in my telling the orthodontist, “Dude, I’m here for adult supervision and you are that.” He fixed my retainer and did not mock me for turning myself in, which was generous for a guy donating his time. The office did not charge me for the five minutes he spent adjusting the retainer with tin snips and a Cheshire Cat grin. Then I took my car to the inspection station. That gasp you just heard was your fellow New Jersey reader picturing me making conversation with a plumber named Jerry, when that guy will suggest that state workers are overpaid no matter where you find him. Ordinarily, I would filet that guy, but today I smiled sweetly and left without a police escort.

Yogurt-making is prop-intensive.

After lunch at home, I went to the eye doctor’s office, where I was declared remarkably healthy. That’s right: not just healthy, but remarkably healthy. I wondered if the eye doctor should get out more if my eyes’ near-normal wetness was worth a glowing mention. We discussed readers of various strengths and whether or not my diet included Omega 3 fatty acids and antioxidants. I was given a prescription I did not understand for glasses I would be buying at Costco, and after a $15 co-pay, I left for the radiologist. There, a technician pushed me into position on a table and took x-rays while I held my breath. I’d spent the morning in one town and the afternoon in another. All of this was possible because I have the state employee health insurance plan. I believe we should all have the same thing, only it should be called our national health service and should banish from its precincts for-profit insurers, which contribute ZERO to our society’s well-being. Health care for everyone seems like such a simple concept. You would think everyone would want it.

You Married A Music

Pete’s ranting and Sweetpea’s bathing her right shoulder. Pete’s brother’s gone – as they say – round the twist, leading to a blizzard of phone calls and dumb assertions. So long as all parties are at least 300 miles from one another, bruised feelings are the worst of it. They get off easy. Three of my sisters, my aunt, mother and I live within 20 miles of one another. Every week no one throws a phone through a picture window is a victory.

On Friday, I bought a case of blueberries and over the weekend jarred blueberry pie filling. Since I had jars, pots, sugar, spices and lemon juice, it was breathtakingly easy to clean and simmer blueberries, heat the jars, fill them and process. The hardest job was cleaning up blue drippings and splatters everywhere. Next thing I knew, seven quart jars lined up on my bamboo cutting board and I stared at them, asking, “What the hell just happened?” I am aware that none of this flushness with successosity will matter in the least if the lids pop off and the blueberries turn a furry boys-bathroom-blue. That could happen, probably right about the time I decide I know what I’m doing, with predictably disastrous results. Won’t that be fun?

This morning, flood waters are rising in Minot, North Dakota, where Miss Sasha’s husband Mr. Sasha is stationed. Emotions are running high. On Facebook, Miss Sasha reported, “Our newscasters are crying.” Pictures are both grim and perplexing. See?

Thousands flee flood in Minot, N.D.

Hoo boy. Or look here. There’s a picture for you. Miss Sasha, whose been preparing food for the people filling sand bags, recommends donations to the Mid-Dakota Chapter of the American Red Cross. You can contact them here. It’s very difficult to be helpful at a distance. If you’re of a mind to help critters, here’s the animal shelter.

And Dance To A Song

Until Friday morning, I may be very busy or not at all and have no idea which it will be. Because I love you and want you to look both ways before you step off the curb into this unknown future, please consider this a timely reminder of what you may be lucky enough to become.

You Remember Me Tomorrow

Let’s talk about our old friend the Political Compass, where I am a flaming pinko. I’ve taken this little test a few times and I always come out to the southwest of Gandhi. Naturally, that’s a neighborhood I can live with. I’d take his wife a casserole anytime.

Lefty Leftists are leftastic.

Please take this test. Watch out: some of the questions are gibberish:

It is a waste of time to try to rehabilitate some criminals.

Trying to rehabilitate the smalltime pot user is a waste of time because he/she shouldn’t be a criminal, but please lock up and throw away the key on serial killers. Who wrote this shite?

Charity is better than social security as a means of helping the genuinely disadvantaged.

Apples and oranges. That anyone composed that sentence is a problem all by itself.

Some people are naturally unlucky.

What? What?

Astrology accurately explains many things.

Nothing else explains the AQUARIUS! stickers on my bicycle.

A significant advantage of a one-party state is that it avoids all the arguments that delay progress in a democratic political system.

That is some grade-A political gibberish right there.

First-generation immigrants can never be fully integrated within their new country.

Can we dig up some Pilgrims and ask them?

Those who are able to work, and refuse the opportunity, should not expect society’s support.

Let’s say you’re a nuclear physicist and you can’t find work nuclearly physicisting. Should there be fries with that?

Nonsense aside, after you’ve taken the test and seen where you turn out on the grid, I’d like you to take it a second time. It’s not a long test. What is it, five minutes? The second time, please consider the questions from a different perspective. Chances are good you took the test from a mainstream political perspective in which you get to make some or all of the decisions and some or all of the value judgments. Believe it or not, the vast majority of people in this country do not. So take the test assuming that you might be on the receiving end of those decisions and judgments instead of the delivering end.

Let that sink in. I bet we might actually be neighbors.

Crossposted at Brilliant@Breakfast