A photo stolen from Andrew Sullivan:
I’m psyched to see that the bassets are rallying around Obama. The cats on Ruby Lane are still, annoyingly, claiming to be “persuadable” in what I take to be a not-so-subtle bid to get chosen for some t.v. focus group.
The girls came home with these stories they’d narrated to a teacher. They’re very nicely illustrated as well but I will just transcribe.
Iris:
Once upon a time there was a little goat. And he lived in a very unusual farm. Because the farmer and the farmwife didn’t let him make milk. But one day he got an idea. He would trick the farmer and wife. So he hid behind the milk shed. He poked the farmer and the wife. And then he trotted off on a walk. So that the farmer and his wife thought he was gone. And then he found a little filly and the filly said, “I live on a farm that’s bright red. And it has roosters, a cow, and my mommy and daddy horses. So I need someone to help me get back to the farm.” And the goat said, “And who would that be?” “That would be someone who’s smart and who has a tail and can pull me along.” “That would be me, because I’m smart and I have a tail and I know where the farm is.” And the pony said, “Ok, then I’ll tie my tail to your tail and you start trotting.” The end.
And Celie’s:
Once upon a time a little giraffe was so excited because it was his birthday today. And he had a cake ready and all his friends were there. And they played pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and he won. And then they played checkers. And then they played dress-up. And he was the king. And his sister was the princess. And the king said, “Princess, go ask your servant to clean the walls.” And the servant did it. Soon the walls were shiny clean. And the servant said, “I am tried of working like this.” And she asked the princess and king if she could stop. And they said, “Well… Okay.” The End.
All I can say is, wow. I am supposed to be some kind of professional analyst of narrative, but I hardly know where to begin.
Do you know Aldi Foods, my yuppie friend?
They are basically Trader Joe’s for non-yuppies. We were on the West side for some reason a month or two ago near our local Aldi and Sarah mentioned that her deeply-broke painter friend Annie loves it, so we decided to give it a try. I was a bit weirded out by the whole experience but had to admit that it was very, very cheap. Later I read this article about it in the NY Times where I learned the whole fascinating Aldi saga.
The chain’s low-key style reflects its reclusive, elderly founders, the octogenarian German billionaires Theo and Karl Albrecht, who reportedly live on the island of Föhr in the North Sea, where they are said to collect typewriters, play golf and tend to orchids. In 1971, Theo was kidnapped for 17 days, and the brothers have kept a low profile ever since.
The brothers split the business in two in the early 1960s, after a disagreement over whether to sell cigarettes. There are now two companies, Aldi Nord and Aldi Sud, which owns the United States division. In 1979, Theo Albrecht bought the Trader Joe’s chain, which shares Aldi’s small-store format, its reliance on private-label brands and its reputation for value, albeit in a hipper and more upscale way.
So, it’s not that Aldi is like Trader Joe’s, it’s that Trader Joe’s is the latest incarnation/secondary rebranding of Aldi. Trader Joe’s is just Aldi with more attitude and better graphic design. To quote the Times again,
Its stores are small and spartan, with minimal décor and a limited selection of products. They are often found in nondescript shopping strips and lack the flashy signs and window displays of some competitors. Grocery carts cost a quarter apiece, which is refundable after the cart is returned….What makes Aldi so special is that, quite simply, its prices are cheaper than just about anyone else’s, including Wal-Mart’s.
We returned to Aldi this weekend, and I will testify that, yes, the prices are really low. Like, I am used to paying $3.50 or something at the organic co-op for a jar of raspberry jelly (the girls go through that stuff at a frightening rate as it is one of the 5 or so food types they will eat); maybe at Kroger’s I’d pay $2.79 for a larger jar. At Aldi it was $1.49 a jar. Now, I haven’t tried it yet, so maybe it’s crap [note: it turned out to be excellent], but the ingredients seem fine and the Times article reassured me that the food at Aldi was not there because it was lead-contaminated or anything like that, but instead because those typewriter-collecting octogenarian German billionaires drive a hard bargain, get bulk discounts and do not indulge in any frills like free shopping bags, free use of grocery carts, credit cards (debit only) or much shelving. Nope, they basically stick the crate of food on the floor with a little sign and let the thrifty customers do the rest.
Some of the items are a bit sketchy-seeming and you’re definitely not going to find organic food here — we didn’t buy any meat — but on the other hand, you do find some surprising little European items like those chewy candy Haribo raspberries (for 75 cents a bag or some such). There’s only one kind of most items and the corn flakes are not the brand you’re used to, but they are $1.15 a box.
Being a real cheapskate, I kind of dig the no-free-shopping-cart or shopping bags atmosphere, which almost feels East German or something. It’s almost perverse — how much money do they really save by making you shell out the quarter for use of the cart, which you get back if you return the cart properly? They need fewer employees, I guess, so it sort of makes sense.
I should buy some Aldi stock.
This post inaugurates a new category, btw: Livin’ in the Recession.
David Letterman “Top Ten Things Overheard at Palin Debate Camp.”
10. “Let’s practice your bewildered silence.”
9. “Can you try saying ‘yes’ instead of ‘you betcha’?”
8. “Hey, I can see Mexico from here!”
7. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and there won’t be any questions about Iraq, taxes or healthcare.”
6. “We’re screwed!”
5. “Can I just use that lipstick-pit bull thing again?”
4. “We have to wrap it up for the day — McCain eats dinner at 4:30.”
3. “Can we get Congress to bail us out of this debate?”
2. “John Edwards wants to know if you’d like some private tutoring in his van.”
1. “Any way we can just get Tina Fey to do it?”
Man, Letterman is starting to feel like the Daily Show. I like #10 and #9 the most.
9:12 p.m. We hear noises upstairs (girls went to bed by 8:30). We each stall and try to wait to see if the other guy will go deal with it. Finally when the steps creak on the basement stairs I go and find the girls, who report that we didn’t snuggle on the couch on the porch as we’d said we would. I hustle them upstairs and tell them we’ll have to do it tomorrow. Sobbing. Finally Sarah comes up. I go down and pause the debate. We end up losing 7 minutes which we never make up, meaning we’re stuck with the infuriating “Audience Reaction” graph on CNN.
9:29 p.m. Is it really wise for Sarah Palin’s running mate to say “I’m not Miss Congeniality” so often?
9:39 p.m. Sarah declares that she’s feeling nervous and jittery and wants to make some popcorn to soothe her nerves. This powdered cheese topping is surprisingly good. Lose 8 more minutes.
9:52 p.m. Pot Luck comes down the stairs! Up from his evening nap and ready to party. Sarah makes me give up one of my Crocs for him to play with.
10:04 p.m. Cannot stop myself from tracking the Audience Reaction although the graph does not seem to make sense — the colors don’t match up right. It annoys me to no end that people are sitting there going “oh now Lehrer’s talking, I don’t feel as excited, let me turn this dial down.” Or is like some kind of lie-detector test where it’s strapped to their chests?
10:12 p.m. It strikes me that Obama is completely holding his own and seeming deeply and precisely informed about all the foreign policy issues.
10:34 p.m. Our minds are blown that McCain tried to insult Obama by comparing him to Bush. (???!!?)
10:41 Pot Luck’s foreign policy is becoming alarmingly aggressive. Someone needs to explain to this kitten that liveblogging is not a game of hunt the fingers.
10:48 p.m. Sarah points out that McCain gives the impression that he really only cares about veterans. Freeze ALL spending except for veterans.
11:05 Watching the post-debate talking heads. Sarah is worried Pot Luck’s legs are too short. “I think we may have a midget cat here.” I’m feeling pretty good about the debate. Did not expect Obama to win big on this one, but he seemed well-informed, authoritative/Presidential, and quite hawkish.
COURIC: Have you ever been involved with any negotiations for example, with the Russians?
PALIN: We have trade missions back and forth. We do — it’s very important when you consider even national security issues with Russia — as Putin rears his head and comes into the airspace of the United States of America, where do they go?
It’s Alaska, It’s right over the border. It is from Alaska, that we send those out to make sure an eye is being kept on this very powerful nation, Russia, because they are right there, they are right next to our state.
Someone on The Daily Dish compared this to a memory of a fifth grade book report that she tried to fake her way through. I had similar thoughts — it reminded me of one of those really, really bad teaching days when you have a cold or something and are either underprepared or just lose your way and you realize you are mouthing absolute B.S. That bizarre image of Putin “rearing his head” sums it up — this errant figure of speech, kind of a cliche that maybe she started to think better of midway through.
On a second viewing of the video, it almost seems plausible that Palin truly does not understand what Couric means by “foreign policy credentials.”
This (which I found on Americablog.com) is perfect, injecting into the already-inexplicable oddness of the lolcats meme all the madness of this moose-dressing, polar-bear-deregulating, press-conference-fleeing VP candidate.
There’s something about lolcats that weirds me out. Is it just idiotic, or is there something clever there? Is it simply the apotheosis of internet stupidity, or an apotheosis that brilliantly lays bare the underlying conditions? Whatever, whenever I think of the walrus bucket meme I chuckle involuntarily, not sure why I am laughing and disconcerted by that uncertainty.
Btw, Chris Rock was really hilarious in his extended comparison of Palin to Michael Vick (vis a vis animal cruelty).
p.s. Wikipedia on lolcats.
Age 4 3/4 (or whatever they are, almost five) is a transitional period, or so it would seem today. First Iris handed me a “Hannah Montana & Miley Cyrus Best of Both Worlds Concert” poster that I was supposed to put on their bedroom wall, after writing “Iris” in indelible marker on the poster. This was some kind of door prize at the “hair salon” — i.e. Great Clips — where Sarah took them for a trim today. You get a Hannah Montana poster and a lollipop. C&I LOVE going to the hair salon.
Then Iris and Celie were asking me “how can Santa and the Easter bunny know where everyone lives? Are there different Santas and Easter Bunnies in every place?” I kind of hedged and dodged the question, and Celie speculated, “well, if Santa and the Easter Bunny have a printer, they could print out everybody’s address.” (Do they think Santa and the E. Bunny are a couple?) The girls also love printing things out — preferably their names in purple and pink.
So, about 4/5 of the way through The Savage Detectives I dropped it (do plan to go back to finish) for Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland, which is kind of the polar opposite of Bolano: where The Savage Detectives is sprawling, wild, passionately raw, and multi-voiced, every small chapter introducing a brand new speaker, sometimes, with his or her own worldview, cadence, & set of references — reminding me of On the Road more than anything — Netherland is a classically realist novel with everything focalized through the precise lens of its almost fussy central consciousness. O’Neill’s protagonist, Hans van der Broek, is a Dutch banker living in NYC with his British wife and son. After 9/11 the marriage founders and his wife takes the son back to London on a trial separation, and Hans in his loneliness and disorientation gets involved in a cricket-playing outer-boroughs subculture in which he is usually the only white man.
The novel revolves around Hans’s friendship with Chuck Ramkissoon, a Trinidadian cricket enthusiast and would-be entrepreneur who adds a jolt of ethnic striver/hustler energy to Hans’s rarefied life. (When Hans drives around Brooklyn with Chuck, who is supposedly assisting him in getting his U.S. driver’s license, I thought of the car service in Jonathan Lethem’s Motherless Brooklyn). Hans’s comment about his wife — “She has accused me of exoticizing Chuck Ramkissoon,… of perpetuating a white man’s infantilizing elevation of a black man” — serves as a tacit admission that the novel could almost be accused of (a very subtle version of) the same thing, in that Chuck brings a kind of “life” and vitality to an otherwise pallid elite white world. (The novel made me think of Louis Begley, too, in the glimpse it offers into the higher reaches of NYC professional life.) But cricket functions in this 9/11 novel as a hopeful model of polyglot globalization. Cricket is loaded with colonialist legacies, but for both Hans and Chuck, the sport is all about form, ritual, skill, memory, and beauty:
the white-clad ring of infielders, swanning figures on the vast oval, again and again converse in unison toward the batsman and again and again scatter back to their starting points, a repetition of pulmonary rhythm, as if the field breathed through its luminous visitors.
Netherland made me want to go back to CLR James’s Beyond a Boundary. I still really do not understand how cricket works.
That’s a funny Onion t-shirt (I think it may originally have been a headline with no article, just a photo — brilliant). It definitely evokes Pot Luck these days. In other words, he is thriving: he’s a real tussling, pouncing, biting fighting kitty now. He’s off the bottle and eats slightly diluted canned food in a dish. He still lives in the bathtub but usually when we’re home we let him wander around.
My pick for the funniest thing he does is tussle with my Croc. I’m not sure why he likes/hates it so much — I suspect that the rubber is a nice consistency to bite. He stalks it and ends up entirely inside it, kicking and squirming, as if it’s a little boat or space ship or something.
Another hilarious thing is when he’s in the middle of some energetic tussling, suddenly runs out of steam and falls asleep lying on his back with his paws in the air.
Here’s a nicely diabolical shot (taken by my laptop as Sarah’s camera charger has been misplaced):
Ivan Kreilkamp 