Thousands of Years of Human Development Have Come to This
Someone spent time coming up with this - the Beer Application for the iPhone!
July 16, 2008
July 14, 2008
An Urban Morning Encounter
I heard a woman's voice. "Stay away from the umbrella. Leave it alone. No, no, be nice to the umbrella."
I was walking out of my apartment this morning in my start of the day haze when I heard those words. Today's weather report had predicted storms and showers along the eastern seaboard and the good citizens of Manhattan were doing their best to be prepared. Yet, in my early morning semi-conscious state I could not make sense of what this woman was saying.
I looked up and saw a middle-aged woman struggling mightily with a leash. At the other end of that leash was a bulldog, determined to make the world safe from umbrellas, leaning full force towards the menace held by a gentleman, unaware that he was walking down the concrete pavement to his destiny.
July 12, 2008
38 Million Views . . . and Counting
There's a little video on YouTube that has racked up over 38 million views without resorting to a portrayal of half-naked women. It's two young siblings sitting together in a chair. Oh yes, one boy bites his brother's finger.
Perhaps it will make sense if you just watch the video.
To add to the fun, you also can get t-shirts with "Charlie bit me" and variations such as "Charlie bit me too" printed on the front at this website: Charlie Bit Me
Save Me from Death Row
I've been put up for adoption, and I really need a special new owner right away. Time is of the essence.
I am a very sweet black Basenji crossbred spayed female, bilingual, five years old, very healthy, well-mannered, medium-sized, and in desperate need of a new home. I am in Morelia. I have had a vet health check recently. For more information, contact apaydinmx@yahoo.com.
If you don't act now, they're going to kill me. And you'll have that on your conscience. For all of eternity. Please. I don't want to die. I promise to improve your life if you'll save mine.
July 09, 2008
Tim Russert Alarm
Michael Bicks reports his experience of getting a heart attack in the Science Section of yesterday's New York Times, and states that if it weren't for Tim Russert's recent fatal heart being on his mind, he might not have recognized his symptoms of a heart attack so fast, and the delay of going to the hospital might have killed him.
I thought perhaps that Mr. Bicks was one of the few men so affected by the untimely passing of Mr. Russert, but the other morning I was chatting about exercise and staying in shape with a lobby attendant in my office building in Midtown Manhattan, when he suddenly announced that he was going to start exercising (he looks like a man who hasn't exercised in some time, if ever). "Look what happened to Tim Russert," he exclaimed, "I've got to get into shape!"
Since then I've found that many of my contemporaries share the same concern and are attempting to dramatically change their personal habits to lead a healthier life. I already go to the gym four or five times a week, so there's not much for me to do except cut back on dessert.
Wait a minute, cut back on dessert? I don't know if I want to be that healthy.
July 08, 2008
Gangs Invade Morelia
This morning, between the dentist’s office and my car, I spotted a Gang Member on the loose between Av. Acueducto and Calz. Fray Antonio de San Miguel. No doubt the poor man had strayed from San Miguel de Allende all the way to Morelia. Or he may have been staying at one of the hot new B&Bs along the calzada – Casa San Diego or Posada del Artista.
Thanks to Stuff White People Like, I was able to quickly identify that he wasn’t from here. A hand-knitted scarf, nattily and carefully tossed over his shoulder, set him off from the rest of the crowd. Now, I’m not sure whether he was gay or Northern European. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Of course, there’s always the chance that he was both. He had on European shoes, the kind which would be marked as lesbian shoes if worn by a woman, expensive, unstructured suede, and no doubt hand-made by an honest, French-speaking cobbler. And carried a man-purse. Freshly ironed clothing that obviously had just been plucked from expensive luggage and a straw hat of a provenance not Mexican signaled that he was not from these parts. Or even the D.F.
What was he doing, looking like he was lost and idly posing on the corner in the rain minutes before noon? Scouting out new territory? Giving myself license to gawk, I stopped ten meters away from him, turned around, and stared. We Mexicans often stare at gringos as if they’re from another planet.
Quickly, I checked over what I happened to have on, lest I be identified as a rival gang member. Mephistos, SmartWool socks, jeans, Ralph Lauren shirt, LeSportsSac purse. Rolex. Mont Blanc black glasses. I think I passed for the local that I am. Or at least an aging fresa. At least the gang member didn’t stare back.
July 07, 2008
Little People in NYC
I didn't want anyone to think that Jennifer had the monopoly on posting videos of little people, so the other day in the NYC subway system I caught this on my cell phone (thus the terrible video and audio quality).
He doesn't dress up in drag doing a Hillary Clinton impersonation - no, he does a Michael Jackson impersonation, which is completely different.
July 06, 2008
Who Doesn’t Love Dogs Playing Poker?
Some of us would be mortified if anyone found out what was on our iPods. Go ahead and admit it: if you’re reading this, you probably have some Herman’s Hermits and country western lurking on that tiny hard drive. Since I have no pride, I’ll tell you that I’ve got David Seville’s Witch Doctor on mine. (The 45 rpm record was the first one I ever bought with my own money, back in the summer of 1958.)
A generation ago, we decorated their squalid college apartments with black light posters (yes, 
I still possess some, stashed away in the bodega), lava lamps, and marijuana paraphernalia. A poster of Disney characters engaged in sex acts inspired me to write a law school piece about droit moral and Article 6bis of the Berne Convention, which ended up making me more money than I’d ever made in my entire life up until that point, so the acquisition wasn’t exactly in vain. Our artistic inclinations grew more sophisticated, beckoning M.C. Escher and René Magritte. And the guy who did portraits out of fruit.
Still on our bookshelves are remnants of another era: A Child’s Garden of Grass, The Whole Earth Catalog, The Anarchist Cookbook, The Greening of America, and Steal this Book. Only a month ago, a distinguished researcher plucked Jerry Kamstra’s Weed from my library, commenting that its passages on Mexican culture still rang true. We can’t rid ourselves of them, even if these books are the literary equivalent of white vinyl go-go boots.
Years would pass, and we would discover Mexico. And acquire nearly all of the items which are now on Gangs of San Miguel’s No Buy List. I plead guilty on most counts.
In Michoacán, we have the artsy-craftsy equivalent of the FAA-mandated airplane reading 
material, too: Huancitos, an artist’s proof of Zalce’s La Jaula, some other Zalce lithograph, the Patamban green pineapple, the Cheran half-moon earrings, pointelle Capulaware (a.k.a. Michoacán Melamine), plaid Patzcuaro tablecloths, chisel-carved chests from Cuanajo, something bright and shiny from mfa Eronga, a Cocucho or two, iridescent Santa Fe de la Laguna candelabra, Ocumicho figures, and a scattering of Santa Clara de Cobre copper. And enough crucifixes and images of the Virgen de Guadalupe to make visitors ask “When did you convert?”
I really need to kick up my décor a notch by adding some black velvet paintings of Elvis, unicorns and the Last Supper and pink flamingos. But first I want to acquire one of those solar-powered squirrels that lights up at night.
July 04, 2008
NY Times Goes to the Dogs
The NY Times abandoned all journalistic standards when in yesterday's edition they published a follow up story on Leona Helmsley's decision to leave the bulk of her estate, as much as $8 billion, to the care and welfare of dogs.
The Times interviewed several dogs, getting their reaction to this news event and where they think the money should go. Quotes came from a variety of breeds, including a Yorkshire terrier, pug, Jack Russell terrier, and poodle.
The Jack Russell terrier said, "If I had my way, I'd buy every squeaky toy I could get my hands on."
What's next, interviews with elephants and donkeys about the presidential elections?
Raising McCain
What kind of fool are you, John McCain? I used to harbor some measure of respect for you, but you’re blowing what little support you had among citizens of my country. You came to my country, knowing that Mexicans weren’t too impressed with you.
What has happened, John? You used to have cojones, but you’re emasculating yourself as the campaign goes on. You’re risking becoming as much a weenie as that lawyer with the Ross Perot ears you’re running against. You’re becoming as duplicitous as Hillary Clinton. Wake up and smell the coffee, man.
We’ll just overlook the business of your wife wanting to emulate the late Princess of Wales. We’ll look the other way over that nasty business in the Middle East. But you blew it when you talk out of both sides of your mouth, supporting an immigration bill one year and building a wall the next. Exactly how many terrorists have entered the U.S. from Mexico? Name one. The wall is more than just an affront to everything that the U.S. represents. Let’s get real: it’s intended to keep Estadounidenses from leaving the country, isn’t it? This wall business really offends me.
And trekking all the way over to the Basilica de Guadalupe, just so you can get yourself blessed? Just like Bill Clinton who took communion over at the Catholic Church, you aren't Catholic. Are you planning to stop in a get yourself blessed by Thomas Monson the next time you're in Utah, and spend some quality time with Peggy Nadramia when you're in San Francisco?
Wouldn't it have been enough just to sit down over comida with Tony Garza and Felipe Calderon while you were in Mexico instead of pandering?
You’ve still got time to do the right thing. Show Mexico a little more respect. We're not just about drugs, tortillas and the Holy Ghost in this country. And we're not your backyard.
You're no Barry Goldwater, and you're no Ronald Reagan. I'm only one vote out there in the lonely wilderness defending you, but you're beginning to piss me off.
July 01, 2008
When Disability is a Metaphor
He got his first drivers license at the usual age most teenagers get drivers licenses, passing the driving test on a car with a standard transmission. He learned how to type on an Underwood manual typewriter. He played the snare drum in the high school marching band. His first part-time job as a college freshman was at an indoor gun range and security company as a dispatcher. He didn’t wear clip-on ties, because they look dorky, so he created a better solution. He grew up and made his way through corporate America before the days of the Americans with Disabilities Act. He gives off the appearance being a Thalidomide Kid, but looks can be deceptive.
He doesn’t go around wringing his hands over what society ought to do, and that’s because his hands aren’t like yours or mine. He frankly uses words that the politically correct have dismissed as arcane – disabled and handicapped — not challenged or differently abled. Calling a spade a spade, he asks a very important question that many just don’t ask when it comes to living with what God gave him: "What is it that I don’t have to have help with?"
Charlie Hall isn’t the average foreigner living in the expatriate haven San Miguel de Allende, where many foreigners concern themselves with retirement pleasures, living on Social Security, tourism, performing good works, or even gang membership. He owns and operates etched glass and candle-making factories in Mexico, serious businesses which hire disabled people, showing them that they, too, can navigate their way through life with productive employment.
At the age of 48, Charlie doesn't quibble over whether his glass is half-full or half-empty, because it's brimming over. And so, too, is his blog, To Dream to Touch, where he hashes out the trials of the ordinary businessman, Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, New York subways, speeding tickets, and breaking the mold.
Technorati Tags: Moebius Syndrome, Santa Rosa candles, Maslow Hierarchy of Needs, disabled, handicapped, San Miguel de Allende
June 30, 2008
Jazz - Mob Style
While speaking with a musician friend this weekend, he relayed to me a story of what happened one day when he was out playing at a mob joint:
This guy comes up to me and hands me a hundred dollar bill. "Heere," he says, stuffing the bill in my hand, "my wife wants ta hear "Come Rain or Come Shine," whichever one, it don't matter."
He swears he's not making this story up.
Profiting from the Poor
Who doesn't like making a few bucks from the poor? The poor are every bit as important to the economy as human suffering was to Mother Teresa and original sin is to Christianity. After all, if there were no cash-strapped masses, pawn shops, sub-prime lenders and entire brigades of charitable deed-doers would be out of business. Entire industries built upon serving the destitute would face bankruptcy.
Microfinancing for low-income entrepreneurs, once considered a brilliant move by social thinkers and economists, is now taking a hit for being too successful, says the Wall Street Journal. What, there aren't enough poor folks to go around these days?
June 27, 2008
White People Like to Grow Their Own Food
Farmers markets and vegetarianism aren’t enough for white people. They have to grow their own, even if they grew up with a disdain for home gardening as something taken straight from victory gardens and American Gothic. Growing your own food starts out innocently enough by shopping for organic food at Whole Foods and co-ops, recycling bags, and gathering up used grounds for compost with each visit to the local coffee emporium. Some white people who grew up in the 60’s remember sorting out the seeds from their marijuana on the jacket cover of a long-playing record album and talking up a Whole Earth Catalog lifestyle before moving into investment banking and the practice of law.
The 80’s led to an affection for multiple forms of fresh basil, easily enough grown from pre-seeded kits purchased at Smith & Hawken, the only garden shop which dare show its face at upscale malls. From that simple step, it was a downhill slide to Vermont Bean Seed Company and Territorial Seed Company, mail-order seed companies tailor-made for white people who snickered at the gingham-shirted Ma and Pa Kettle kinds who had to settle for buying their garden seed from places like Henry Field’s Seed & Nursery or Earl May.
Before long, it wasn’t just a matter of being green or organic. Or saving money. Before long, the notion of heirloom tomatoes wasn’t even the point. It was pure back-to-the-land, yielding up bragging rights more valuable than the crop of tiny pink, white, and orange tomatoes which white people, posing as Lady Bountiful, now can foist off on others less privileged, chiming in smugly that these tomatoes were grown right from seeds harvested from last year’s crop.
June 26, 2008
The Secrets of Chocolate Unlocked!
MSNBC reports here that Government scientists are embarking on a five year study to map out genome of the cocoa bean. The project is being funded by Mars Inc., the maker of M&Ms, Snickers and other great American candy bars, and will help in the reduction of $700 million in crop destruction due to fungal diseases.
I hope that they don't create any chocolate frankenbars. Give me my M&Ms just the way they've always been, not glowing in the dark! Nor do I want my chocolate to be engineered to give me a balanced meal.
I'm Raising $100 Millions Dollars - See ya, suckers!
I just read that "Barclays Bank is joining rivals in tapping the wealth of Asian and Middle Eastern investors to strengthen its capital base" due to the "losses from the subprime mortgage turmoil in the United States."
Well, I'm never one to miss a trend, so I've decided to access the Asian and Middle Eastern capital markets as well. How does this sound:
NEW YORK - David Leffler announced today that he plans to raise $100 million to shore up his capital ratios which were weakened by the recent U.S. subprime mortgage debacle. He will be selling shares of an offshore corporation to financial institutions located in Qatar, Singapore and Dubai and will stand behind each and every one of these investments with his personal guarantee.
I not even sure that prior to today I had a capital ratio, but no matter, if it brings in the greenbacks I'm ready to stand by the statement that I do.
You may laugh at my scheme, but it makes perfect sense. As the New York Times said in its article today on Barclays Bank:
Middle Eastern investors, flush with cash because of record energy prices, and their Asian counterparts have repeatedly come to the rescue of American and European lenders hurt by the credit market turmoil.
And, as one of the characters in the 1976 film Network, probably the most prophetic movie of all times, said:
The Arabs have taken billions of dollars out of this country, and now they must put it back. It is ebb and flow, tidal gravity. It is ecological balance. You are an old man who thinks in terms of nations and peoples. There are no nations; there are no peoples. There are no Russians. There are no Arabs. There are no third worlds. There is no West. There is only one holistic system of systems; one vast, interwoven, interacting, multivaried, multinational dominion of dollars.
The world is a business, Mr. Beale; it has been since man crawled out of the slime. Our children will live, Mr. Beale, to see that perfect world in which there's no war or famine, oppression or brutality - one vast and ecumenical holding company, for whom all men will work to serve a common profit, in which all men will hold a share of stock - all necessities provided, all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused.
Well, we haven't quite gotten to that "perfect world," but give us time, give us time.
Can't you see how my scheme makes perfect sense? All of these financial institutions are down on their knees raising billions of dollars, I only want a mere $100 million. I'm a bargain, a real bargain!
The one thing that I haven't quite nailed down is how to develop the aura of "too big to fail." These Arab and Asian investors are no dummies. They are forking over billions of dollars to failing institutions not out of the goodness of their hearts but because they know if these marquee brands fail, confidence in the entire Western world's financial system will be shaken and perhaps irreversibly damaged, and they have way too many dollars in that system to allow that to happen.
Of course, sooner or later, these Arab and Asian investors may get the idea to construct their own financial system which is not so dependent on the West, and then they won't be handing over bags of money so quickly the next time the West falls on its face. Right now world trade is probably too interwoven and interdependent for this, but don't underestimate the ability of the folks with all of the excess cash in the world to gain an upper hand.
Technorati Tags: Barclays Bank, Asian investors, Middle Eastern investors, subprime mortgage crisis, Networking, Howard Beale
June 25, 2008
VOWS OF SILENCE
Technorati Tags: Legionaries of Christ, Marcial Maciel
June 24, 2008
The Latest Acquisitions at the Biblioteca Rose
Books aren't easy to come by in Michoacán, so we have to depend upon the kindness of others to schlep our Amazon purchases here during the odd months we're not making a trip northward.
The Texans arrived this evening, delivering my latest summer reading:
On Borrowed Words: A Memoir of Language by Ilan Stavans
Spanglish: The Making of a New American Language by Ilan Stavans
San Sombrero: A Land of Carnivals, Cocktails and Coups (Jetlag Travel Guide) by
Santo Cilauro
Long After Midnight at the Niño Bien: A Yanqui’s Missteps in Argentina by Brian Winter
Smile When You're Lying: Confessions of a Rogue Travel Writer by Chuck Thompson
Last Evenings on Earth by Roberto Bolano
The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones by Anthony Bourdain
Then We Came to the End: A Novel by Joshua Ferris
Last Harvest: From Cornfield to New Town: Real Estate Development from George Washington to the Builders of the Twenty-First Century, and Why We Live in Houses Anyway by Witold Rybczynski
Bryson's Dictionary for Writers and Editors by Bill Bryson
The Disappearance: A Novella and Stories by Ilan Stavans
The South Beach Diet Supercharged: Faster Weight Loss and Better Health for Life by Arthur Agatston
Kissing the Virgin's Mouth: A Novel by Donna M. Gershten
Next month’s shipment is already waiting for me in Florida:
The Official Filthy Rich Handbook by Christopher Tennant
First Stop in the New World by David Lida
The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover by Kinky Friedman
Jimi Hendrix Turns Eighty by Tim Sandlin
Digging to America by Anne Tyler
Paula by Isabel Allende
Uniforms: Why We Are What We Wear by Paul Fussell
Meanwhile Back at the Ranch : A Novel by Kinky Friedman
The Naked Tourist: In Search of Adventure and Beauty in the Age of the Airport Mall by Lawrence Osborne
The Essential Ilan Stavans by Ilan Stavans
Dictionary Days by Ilan Stavans
Miscellaneous: An Artist's Notebook by Charles Patterson
Technorati Tags: Ilan Stavans, Kinky Friedman, David Lida, Donna Gershten, Arthur Agatston, Christopher Tennant, Charles Patterson, Lawrence Osborne, Paul Fussell, Anne Tyler, Isabel Allende, Santo Cilauro, Tim Sandlin, Robert Bolano, Bill Bryson, Chuck Thompson, Anthony Bourdain, Joshua Ferris, Witold Rybczynski
June 22, 2008
Eating is Overrated
Every second blogger writes about his or her culinary talents. Mine extends to yearning for the latest kitchen appliance, acquiring it, reading a cookbook for the plot, and making reservations. My manual dexterity remained in kindergarten, there’s the matter of having the attention span of a gnat when it comes to anything near the kitchen, and then there’s the urge to treat cooking as a giant science experiment.
If you’re invited to my house for steak, you can count upon having steak and nothing else. In my defense, I explain that appetizers, side dishes, and dessert weren’t part of the invitation. And then I offer up a reasoned explanation that it’s done that way in some country that my guest has never visited. For all you and I know, mono-ingredient meals are all the rage in France. You’d think these people didn’t know that salsa counted as a vegetable.
Just going to the grocery store takes up so much valuable time that could be productively spent doing important stuff. I’m tired of having to buy groceries all the time, practically once every week or ten days. It’s just such a nuisance. Maybe there are some sardines left over in the pantry from the time everyone stocked up in anticipation of Y2K. There is enough food in my pantry to feed several armies in the time of famine, but none of it’s particularly appealing. What was I thinking when I bought red rice? Or canned pumpkin? The supply of bean threads could satisfy most of China for a single day.
Grace Slick called to ask if I had any coconut, just in case she was overcome by the urge to make oatmeal cookies. “I don’t think so, but I’ve got some candied ginger,” I told her.
“That’s really not a substitute for coconut.”
“Well, how about some almonds? I’ve got three kinds of almonds. Almonds and ginger would work well together.”
“You were the one who made that gingerbread from a mix, substituting flax seed for eggs and oil, adding oatmeal and bran to make it healthier.”
“That was an exercise in creativity. You forgot to mention that I added a few spoonfuls of powdered buttermilk since I didn’t have any real milk. Besides, those are commonly accepted accommodations for high altitude baking.”
“Remember that German chocolate cake that you swore you’d made from scratch, messing up the icing to make it look homemade and then destroying the evidence that it came from the grocery store?”
“It was the best German chocolate cake I ever made.”
Cooking is such a bother, rivaled only by having to eat what you cook. I wonder how communion wafers would go with dulce de leche.
June 19, 2008
La Pequeña Hillary Clinton's Back
and, now for balance, here's La Pequeña Patricia Maldonado:
Okay Gals, Tell Me If This Doesn't Make You Feel Inadequate
Read here about the Super Mom who gave birth to six kids and one year later successfully ran a full marathon. And that's not all. During delivery she almost died when she went into cardiac arrest.
Never mind the gals, I feel inadequate.
June 18, 2008
Our Collections, Our Stuff
Laura Lippman loves the ugly mermaid. She knows the importance of objects in a woman's life. In What the Dead Know, one of her characters works in a San Miguel de Allende jewelry store.
“Is this real silver?” one of the Texans asked, barging through the door and grabbing a bracelet from the window display. “I heard that there are a lot of fakes down here.”
“It’s easy enough to tell,” Miriam said, flipping it to show the woman the stamp that certified it as silver. But she didn’t hand the bracelet back to the woman, her own private technique, as if she had just realized she wanted it for herself. A simple trick, but it made the right kind of customer wild to own the thing in hand.
Only a collector of objects would understand the importance of the hunt.
Deb Hall of Zocalo de Mexican Fine Art understands. And I'll have to credit her for leading me to Laura Lippman's piece in the Wall Street Journal.
For every collector, there's a vendor. There are those gallery kinds, who also fill the sales ranks of stores like Gucci where the customer is treated with suspicion and required to prove herself worthy of being allowed to make the purchase.
And there are those whose roots sprung from The Jew Store, leaning on the customer to buy.
"It's you, I tell you. You look simply marvelous in this. I'll leave you alone to think a little about it while I get you something to eat," Sylvia Einbender used to say when I'd visit her store in St. Joseph, Missouri. She was our kind, and she could sell ice to the Eskimos. Memories of every piece of clothing I ever bought at Einbender's remain with me, more vividly and more cherished, than any purchase I ever made at one of those stores where the clerks remained icily distant. Maybe I'm just not gallery material.
Getting back to collecting, my efforts, save shoes and clothing, seldom extend beyond amassing three or four pieces before I either decide that my collection has reached critical mass or it's time to move on to something else. But that doesn't mean that I don't prize my collection of Negro dolls, the Sergio Bustamante back before he went into paper-maché, or the small wooden chair covered in bottle caps into which religious images had been pasted. What do I care if my artistic tastes run to Dogs Playing Poker? What I really need to complete my collection of objects is a Janus bear.
June 17, 2008
Have a Stroke and Find Bliss
I've been rummaging around TED a bit lately, and their videos are so fascinating it's almost like that classic TV potato chip commercial that bets that you "just can't eat one."
Here's a lecture by brain researcher Jill Bolte Taylor which demonstrates in greater depth than I had ever seen before just how the brain works, with the different functions of its right and left sides. At one point she actually has a human brain brought on stage to illustrate.
But the important point to this lecture is that Ms. Bolte Taylor had a stroke and so was able to observe the workings of the brain during this very traumatic event from the inside. Given her knowledge and expertise, it made for a very interesting guided tour of a stroke, and yes, at one point she describes her experience as "blissful." Watch the film and see.
If the film does not load on this page, go directly to the TED page here.
June 16, 2008
The Möbius Strip of Immigration
One of the best books of the year is Jorge Castañeda's Ex Mex: From Migrants to Immigrants, which analyzes the immigration conundrum better than anything else I've seen. I've become such a fan of this book that it's become one that I buy for friends rather than lending it out.
University of North Carolina political science professor Greg Weeks, who blogs in Two Weeks Notice, likes this one, too.
June 15, 2008
Sex in My City
A combination of the influence of Sex in the City and the lowest crime rates since 1963 has seen a rise of inebriated young women wandering the streets of Manhattan in recent years. I see them mostly in the evening hours, sometimes during the week and sometimes on weekends, and always a gaggle of 3 or 4 of them, Carrie Bradshaw and friends style.
Last night I passed just such a group, and there was a tall one wearing what must have been at least 4 inch high heels. She was acting pretty drunk, and I think that she even would have been unsteady without the heels, but watching her I thought she was going to recreate her own version of one of the crane collapses we've been experiencing recently in NYC.
One of her friends, seeing her obvious difficulty with walking in heels, shouted out, "I've got your sandels if you want to wear them!"
With full confidence she declared, "No, I'm not a quitter!" as she continued to wobble her way down the sidewalk.
June 14, 2008
Alien Nations
Melissa C. Morris, nee Stanley, and her old-enough-to-be-her-father, pedigreed husband Chappy are rich. But they're not our kind, you see.
She enjoys a good headband, buys a Herend trinket for her Italian greyhound Monty, goes to soirees, benefits and galas, comments on the value of and previous owners of the properties where the black tie and ball gown affairs are held, takes photographs of the food she and her husband eat at restaurants, and marvels at the size of the bathrooms and amenities contained therein at swank hotels. Maybe it's all new to her. Or maybe that's just how the people who are featured in the New York Social Diary do things these days.
Living right in the same town is The Grande Enchilada, a Jewish Aztec Princess just back from Buenos Aires, where she reflected:
I had a conversation with my client in which we agreed that upper class Mexicans are the most insufferable of all upper class people in the world. (Let's have a competition!) There may be some exceptions here and there (I know good friends of mine who are fine, fine people), but in general, the rich in Mexico are truly insufferable (compared to for instance the Venezuelans, who are as filthy rich, but much more personable). I think this comes from living in a society where the downtrodden are servile and the rich are haughty and entitled, and they do everything in their power not to resemble anything that may confuse them with the humans around them. I'm sure the Argentinian rich are a close second, or at a dead heat, though. It's just a hunch.
I'll opt for the Mexican rich over the WASPs any day of the week. At least they have better taste and manners.
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