Moon Fun

The Amazing Race: Brazil

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 01:25:00 +0000

Ten teams travel from Salvador, Brazil to Fortaleza, Brazil.

Tina and Terence are easily the least likable of the twenty players. They are also both insane. I feel sorry for their respective partners, Ken and Sarah.

Terence begins the leg by getting hit in the head with the car trunk door. He insists to Sarah that he's bleeding. He makes her blow on his forehead and put a band-aid on his boo-boo. He is cranky for most of the leg.

Terence experiences a minor transformation when the mother-son team point them to the taxi stand that he and Sarah missed. Sarah is vindicated: it is okay to talk to other teams.

Tina credits herself when the airline to switches the flight to a bigger plane, allowing room for all ten teams. Tina lets everyone know that they owe her. The other teams are incredulous and pissed off. But all teams get on the same flight.

After arriving in Fortaleza, the teams ride yellow dune buggies on the beach to the Detour: Beach it or Dock it. Everyone hoots and hollers and all have fun for once.

I am rooting for the geeks, Mark and Bill. They are good-natured; they get along, and seem to carry no emotional baggage. They are the only team who choose to Dock it. They end up in the lead, thanks to their attention to detail.

Read the Clue, Sherlock

The divorcees freak out, thinking they need to find some "container" after the Beach It task. But they were mixing in instructions from the Dock It option. They waste a lot of time, digging in the wet sand. When they figure out their mistake, they are still in the middle of the pack. Despite reciting their lesson: "read the clue," they don't read the next clue and don't have their taxi wait while they perform the detour.

Mark and Bill end up in a footrace with Ken and Tina for first place. Mark and Bill don't stand a chance and end up arriving second. But all four are happy and gracious, even Tina.

Though the divorcees make the most egregious mistakes, they come in 7th. It is Anthony and the marriage-hungry Stephanie who come in last and get eliminated. In post-elimination reflection, Anthony rattles off all the things he is thankful for. He lists his looks third, and finally, Stephanie, fourth. I don't hear wedding bells for them.

For Students Failing Math & Economics

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 00:34:00 +0000

I don't need a calculator to figure out this tiny box is not 950 square feet. Is the 2nd floor missing from the floor plan?

The apartment on West 111th Street claims 950 square feet and two bedrooms in the listing. The floor plan shows 565 square feet and one bedroom. (I did use a calculator, estimating the jug-handle hall to be 8.5 x 3.)

Possibly the wrong floor plan was put in by mistake. Or maybe the 950 is a misprint. Or maybe the sellers think the students in the area are fools.

With a hefty $649k asking price, the realtors are banking that the prospective buyers don't have a calculator or a newspaper.

I do love the built-in bookcases and the North and South windows. You'll need all those windows to toss out your stuff that doesn't fit into the non-existent closets.

Apartment Watch: A Single Tick Up

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 02:05:00 +0000

In these alliterative economic times, with the "credit crunch" and the "mortgage mess" blanketing the news, prices in Manhattan are finally coming down. Slowly. Very slowly.

It took an "economic earthquake" and a "bank bust" to make it happen. Yet in these "terrible times," there is a little "buyer's bright spot."

The Little Studio That Could increased its asking price from $275K to $300K. That little studio is in 96 Schermerhorn in Downtown Brooklyn, a building that I have a soft spot for.

Bravo, seller, bravo! As the only price increase in any of the apartments I have been watching, I must applaud the move. I mentioned the apartment was underpriced in my post a few weeks ago.

If it were any other apartment, I would be shocked at the gall, my perpetual state since 2005. Since Brooklyn has more gall than Manhattan, the ride down might be even slower on the other side of the bridge.

Pundits are calling this a buyer's market, but I don't know too many people buying. And what is going to happen to the New York market when there ain't no money to be borrowed?

The Amazing Race 13 Debut

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 01:44:00 +0000

The makeup of the eleven teams vying for the million dollar prize on this season's The Amazing Race offered few surprises. Notable exception: the long-maned, white-haired, hippie beekeepers.

Filling some of the predictable roles are the bickering couple (Ken and Tina), the Blondes (Marisa and Brooke), the newly-dating couple (Terence and Sarah), and the long-distance dating couple (Aja and Ty).

Ken and Tina, the bickering couple, are married but separated due to Ken's infidelity. I shifted my sympathies to Ken as Tina blamed him for everything and gave him credit for nothing on this race's first leg where teams should be the least tense.

This season's blondes don't have the energy or personality of previous blonde teams. The geeks (Mark and Bill) are going to be stronger competitors than you think. The frat boys (Andrew and Dan) are less fratty than you expect.

Terence and Sarah promise the most unpredictability of the racing teams. They seemed nice and normal in the intro; their opposite personality types acknowledged. But they have something major in common--they are both pyscho, but in opposite ways. Sarah tries to make friends with everyone, (sounds normal, right?) but then is instantly angry when one of the racers doesn't acknowledge a comment she made. The comment didn't appear to be aimed at anyone. Terence, who wears a faux-hawk and was id'd as a free spirit is wound tighter than a bedspring.

The beekeepers were the first to be eliminated, before I got a chance to see their faces. Their sweet farewell made me sorry to see them go so soon.

Oh, did I mention the racers went to Brazil?

Jane Goodall's Harvest for Hope

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 14:37:00 +0000

In her 2005 book subtitled "A Guide for Mindful Eating", Jane Goodall proves she is more than just the chimp lady.

Goodall's lifelong study of chimpanzee behavior naturally led to her concern about their habitat and their dwindling population. The logging trade and the raising of cattle are causing the disappearance of the chimp's forest habitat. The bushmeat trade is causing the chimp's potential extinction. Chimpanzee meat is a delicacy in parts of the world. Imagine browsing in an African market and pawing through severed chimpanzee hands to find your dinner.

Gentle Jane's early chapters start with easy talk about animal diets and differences in human diets around the world. The reader is lulled by a seemingly basic primer on animals and diet. Chapter 2, "A Celebration of Cultures," is a happy chapter indeed.

Then Jane packs her punch.

Our happy, indulgent cultures encourage businesses to pesticide-proof crops with chemicals. As added bonus, we eat the chemicals too. Plus, we get bigger, stronger crop-eating pests. So now, companies like Monsanto, are modifying the DNA of the crops themselves.

Our lifestyles have also brought about the horrors of factory farms, the modern-day replacement of family farms. You don't need to accept that animals have souls, just that they suffer, to recoil at the treatment of the cows, pigs and chickens in these assembly-line hell-houses.

Chickens are crammed together so they can't stretch their wings, starved and denied water when egg production is down. Cows are branded, castrated, wallow in feces. Tailless pigs are shot up with growth hormones and weakened by lack of exercise. Sometimes their tiny legs break trying to carry their own weight off to slaughter.

If you are callous enough to not care about the animals' suffering, you might care that you and your family eat all the hormones and antibiotics the animals are injected with. (We've learned the consequences of too much antibiotics: super-bugs.)

Jane recalls the farms she knew as a child, where animals were loved and roamed free. Crops were rotated so that the soil remains fertile. These farms were compact ecosystems that worked without wearing out the land.

Jane's message: if you are going to eat meat, eat small-farm, local and organic. Better yet, don't eat meat and let people eat the grain that feeds the livestock.

Can you handle that? If not, then you won't know what hit you when the water crisis lurking around the corner appears.

Never Let Me Go

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 02:04:00 +0000

In Kuzuo Ishiguro's fictional world, human cloning has been going on in the UK since the 1950s or 60s.

The reader meets Kathy H., Tommy D. and Ruth as children, their story told in flashback by Kathy H. Something is unusual about these kids at Hailsham. Are the children in boarding school? Or are they orphans? Are they specially gifted children?

They live among kind, caring guardians who nurture their creativity. A mysterious Madame carts their best art away.

Gradually, the reader realizes the future that is set out for these special kids as "carers" and "donors". Even more gradually, you realize where they came from and why they were born. Despite the cynicism of others, their humanness is real.

Ishiguro illustrates this by focusing on the small misunderstandings between them, what's said and unsaid that changes the air between them. Feel the awkwardness of your own childhood in this story: the bullies, the leaders, the misfits.

Kathy, Tommy and Ruth grow up but remain children; childless, motherless children who dream little dreams and search for explanations with the little energy and will they have. They face final disappointment in the answers and face their fate with the resignation.

Why don't they try to escape? Because their bonds are the bonds of conformity, some of the strongest kind.

Tough Guys Don't Dance

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 19:27:00 +0000

I had never read a word Norman Mailer wrote; I only knew him as a celebrity hothead and occasional public embarrassment. I knew that Mailer got away with stabbing one of his wives. (He only stabbed the one--there were five others.)

Misogynist behavior and rantings are turn offs for me, so why would I ever pick up one of his books? If Mailer wasn't a good celebrity, why would I think he was a good writer?

Tough Guys Don't Dance changed my tune. The second of two books I bought for a buck each at the Lower East Side book fair (see A Widow for a Year post), TGDD turned out to be a great read.

Mailer passed away last November and according to The New York Times obit:

. . . Mr. Mailer said his favorite novel, if not his best, was “Tough Guys Don’t Dance,” a mystery thriller he wrote, under extreme financial pressure, in just two months in 1984. He was in tax trouble, he explained, and needed to crank something out quickly. “I was prepared to write a bad book if necessary,” he said, “but instead the style came out, and that saved it for me.”

Mailer is beautiful writer, even when writing from the perspective of a "tough guy" who may or may not have committed murder during a drunken blackout.

Hell-Town

Anti-hero Tim Madden rattles around an off-season New England beach town. He is a man who doesn't seem to belong there.

Madden lives on the edge of "Hell-Town," a half-real, half mythical place where demons whisper in his ear. Madden fears his capacity for violence and a reader has every reason to believe he committed a murder or two when in the clutches of bourbon.

When Mailer introduces the Madden's fellow townies, everyone becomes a suspect. Through lyrical prose and raw violence, the events of the forgotten night are pieced together.

96 Schermerhorn Studio Cheap

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 17:26:00 +0000

Gene and I sold our apartment in 96 Schermerhorn in May 2005. So naturally, we remain fascinated by what goes on in the building.

How much are the apartments going for now, we wonder? Translate: how far off the peak did we sell? We had a one bedroom, so studio apartment price wars are less relevant, but interesting nonetheless.

This penthouse studio is newly listed on Corcoran for $275k. The price caught me by surprise as our former neighbors sold their beautiful studio in 2005 for around $265k.

A studio on a lower floor with a $100 lower monthly maintenance and a $375k price tag is in contract. Is the difference between apartments worth $100,000? From our visits, the penthouses are not as glamorous as one would expect. But $100K is a steep drop, my friend.

Another studio in the building listed by a different broker is priced at $369k. Broker #2 tries to position her studio as having .5 bedrooms, but a click on the floor plan will show you that it is no larger than the others. Square footage for all three apartments unknown, but the floor plans indicate they are all about the same.

Hmmm, is our $275K requester just a motivated seller? Is there a real difference in the condition of the apartments?

Let's watch this one.

Is This the West Village, or Am I Dreaming?

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 02:10:00 +0000

Who doesn't dream of buying an apartment in the West Village? And what ordinary mortal doesn't give up this dream as unattainable?

The West Village is usually the first neighborhood to be written off when rubber meets the road. But here is a charmer that some reasonably employed person might be able to buy. Not that I can afford to buy it myself, but here is 800 perfectly-laid out square feet in the West Village for $725K.

The layout is nearly identical to our current apartment in Battery Park City. Only we're renting and we're in BPC.

This apartment is $906 per square foot, ladies and gents, below the $1000 psf barrier. In the Village. Maintenance is high at $1120. But still.

It "needs your loving touch." Uh-oh.

I can tell that no one currently lives there by the sparse furniture in the photos. Desperate seller? Fifth floor walk up? How many years will that be tolerable? For our dog, Aimee, the climb would be tolerable for about one or two walks before she would insist on wee-wee pads.

The Village tranquility is probably vanquished by the stream of ambulances headed for St Vincent's Hospital, a block away. At least you will reach the hospital in time if you are having a heart attack.

Apartment Watch Update

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 02:19:00 +0000

Mid July update on the apartments I have been watching:

An apartment on State Street between Court and Boerum has seen its second price decrease since being listed, though this cut is only $4,000. It originally listed at $1,049,000, deflated to $999,000 and now sits at $995,000

The Chelsea apartment I like saw a quick decrease of $15,0000 to $670,000, despite my opinion that the price was good. The location should trump the floorplan flaws. There is another open house Tuesday evening. Let's see if location (location, location) prevails.

My favorite overpriced apartment on 157 Ludlow on the Lower East Side swapped out the original lead photo of a drab hallway for a more pleasant living room shot. I still say good luck getting $825,000. This apartment is also listed separately as a $3300 rental. Might have better luck with that.

Based on Corcoran's current batch of Newest Properties, I sense the market finally loosening up slightly. I see some Manhattan apartments losing their grip on that $1000 per sq ft barometer, even ones that don't have a devasting drawback, like an outrageous monthly maintenance fee or zero closets.

Brooklyn, Get-Real Estate

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 13:22:00 +0000

'Da bums of Brooklyn are finally feeling the real estate pinch, according to an article in today's New York Post.

The housing prices for buyers in New York City, that is, Manhattan and Brooklyn, have not mirrored the downward trend of the nation. The climbing Brooklyn prices are especially maddening.

I've watched the two playpens closely since 2005. In my corner of the market (one-bedrooms with at least 750 square feet), astonishingly, Brooklyn apartment prices have climbed just as high as in Manhattan. I finally stopped checking Brooklyn listings.

How has Brooklyn sustained that pricing growth? I love Brooklyn, don't get me wrong, but Brooklyn is not Manhattan and never will be. And now, buyers are agreeing.

John Irving, A Novelist Among Novelists

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 01:34:00 +0000

This book has been around since 1998. I picked a copy up for a dollar at the Lower East Side book fair.

I like John Irving. Loved Garp and Owen Meany, but the title of this one, A Widow for One Year, sounded dry. (And A Prayer for Owen Meany didn't? Hmm.) Turned out the book was--as they say--a page turner.

The crux of this novel is novels and novelists. Writers writing about writers is not novel; writers write about writers all the time. But this book is writers writing about writers writing about writers and their writing.

All Irving's characters are writers of different types. Okay, there's one editor and one cop. But those two are window dressing.

Irving explores the question of whether one can assume that a writer is writing about herself. Eddie, does nothing but write about the same pivotal event in his life in book after dreary book. Hannah the journalist accuses best friend Ruth, the good novelist, of writing about their friendship over and over. Ruth doesn't believe this truth, but by the end of the book she does.

Ruth's father, a writer of children's books, writes very little, but is famous. Her mother, a writer of detective novels, is a mystery herself, leaving her family without a trace for thirty-six years. All Mom's novels are about the central tragedy of her life.

A Plot too?

All the musing about writing and exerts from the characters' books are wrapped around a compelling story that kept me guessing. Guessing way too late in the evening. Irving has a knack for making you think he is giving you a spoiler, but he is not. I kept wondering when the "spoiler" was going to happen and made assumptions about its effects. Wrong and wrong again.

A chunk of the book is set in Amsterdam's red light district and Irving makes the dingy area come alive for the reader. Many Dutch words authenticate it as well.

John Irving, the novelist, writes a little too much about breasts. Specifically, Ruth's breasts. For some reason, Ruth's "nice breasts" are mentioned over and over and over again. Her "nice breasts" (no other adjective is ever used) are the only thing some people remember about her. Somehow the nice breasts must have something to do with the lessons of the book.

But you'll have to I connect the dots on that one. I can't.

$825K? A Pipe Dream

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 01:20:00 +0000

This newly listed apartment on Ludlow Street in the Lower East Side stopped me in my tracks.

The lead photo in the listing (shown left) shows a narrow entryway painted a green so drab, the army should check its paint inventory. I hope the seller loves that green because he won't be seeing the green of money.

The $825,000 asking price nets out to the highest PSF (price per square foot) I've profiled so far ($1,136). The copy in the listing might have been written in 30 seconds on the back of a cocktail napkin. Is there nothing to say to justify the price? Is it just not worth the realtor's time?

Pluses, as I see them: four blocks from the F train (a miracle on the LES); a window in the kitchen and a washer/dryer in the unit. An illustration of the building indicates stairs and no mention of which floor makes me think the climb will give you a workout. There are only two closets.

It is a condo, a plus, but the $920 combined fee plus taxes, while about average for a co-op is high for a condo. Very high for a condo with no building amenities, like a doorman. I predict this one ain't going nowhere.

Location
Layout
Amenities
Price

QVC's in Hollywood Fashion

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 01:59:00 +0000

I sold my soul for Hollywood Fashion Tape.

Simple strips of peel-back tape that fasten shirt to bra without damage to fabric. The stuff has powerful hold--like the town of Hollywood itself. To acquire my second supply of tape in a reusable tin with slide-off cover, I made my first purchase on QVC.

Where is a woman in life when she makes her first QVC purchase? In the fifth or sixth inning, at least.

I've been around the periphery of QVC more than most women who don't buy from them on principle. My sister-in-law stays up all night for their St Patrick's Day Irish sale. My mother lavishes me with jewelry, makeup and skin care products I love. All from QVC.

It might be an insignificant difference, but I didn't make those purchases myself so they don't count. The gift certificate for my mom's birthday didn't count either.

But this purchase counts, no way around it. Except! Except, I didn't watch any insipid infomercial to be persuaded to buy. AHA! That's the difference. Going online and heading straight for your desired item doesn't count because you didn't take the bait and let the show reel you in.

I went straight to the Hollywood Fashion Tape. But before I checked out, I browsed the site a bit. Hard to admit, but I saw some nice stuff, some really nice stuff, especially in handbags and jewelry. What is happening here? Please don't let me become like the Quacker Lady that The Soup makes fun of every week! Or like Tova Borgnine, a fellow redhead.

My new batch of Hollywood Fashion Tape arrived yesterday in a plain, padded envelope with a QVC program schedule tucked inside. I almost put the brochure in the trash, but then for some reason, I didn't.

Dick Tracy: Not on My Watch

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 00:36:00 +0000

The wristwatch was meant to be the device of the future. Dick Tracy, a man ahead of his time, used his two-way wristwatch as a radio to communicate with police and capture villains.

Futurists with high hopes knew this would be a reality one day. In the early 80s, one such futurist proudly showed me his watch that could store phone numbers. G wore a similar geek watch when I met him late last century.

The futurists got the mobile device part right. Nearly all of us --across all generations --carry at least a cell phone. Or a cell phone and iPod.

Still, I was surprised to hear that people of a certain generation have stopped wearing wristwatches. This new breed just checks the time on their phone, or their Blackberry, or whatever device they carry.

I don't consider myself slow to adopt new technology and abandon outdated hardware. But this, I must ponder.

Does this phenomenon applies to girls, who more often have purses than pockets? Will it ever be as easy to find my phone in my purse as it is to twist my wrist? Will everyone wear clothes with pockets now? (Cargo Pant Heaven!)

Like typewriters and land lines, the wristwatch will disappear, I guess. But not until all the people who can't break the habit of looking at their wrist when someone asks, "do you have the time?" have disappeared too.

(And who says "wristwatch" anymore? It's been a hundred years since the device had to be distinguished from the alternative "pocketwatch.")

Who is the Charlie Browniest?

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 13:45:00 +0000

A fat biography of Charles Schulz, the creator of Peanuts, fuels the long-standing hypothesis that Charles Schulz is Charlie Brown.

Schulz is indeed Charlie Brown with all Charlie's insecurities, fears and loneliness. How could this old hypothesis not be true? Don't all artists draw their characters from themselves and their own lives? Aren't all the characters in our dreams really us?

In detailing Schulz's childhood, author David Michaelis tries too hard to fault the parents. Schulz's parents were not your average PTA parents, but they seemed better than average. Schulz was an awkward kid, humble to the point of annoying and clean-living to the point of boring.

The Schulz offspring cooperated with the biographer but were miffed at the resulting portrait he paints. I can see why. For a different point of view, read the New York Times review.

The author over-emphasizes events and statements that demonstrate Schulz's low self worth and glosses over Schulz's many triumphs. Schulz's army service gave him a lot of confidence and pulled him from his sheltered St. Paul environment. His job at Art Instruction, Inc provided him with camaraderie and status. Those periods were two big chunks of his early adult life.

Draw Me!

Kudos to Schulz for seeking out employment and companionship with fellow artists, albeit at an unusual artistic venue. (Remember Art Instruction, Inc aka the "Draw Me! school? In the back of magazines, the school advertised, "Can you draw Binky the Skunk?")

Schulz's singular determination to become a cartoonist, his persistent submission of his work demonstrated atypical self confidence, not the reverse. Schulz impressed me when he turned down a job offer to work at Disney, because he did not want to become just a part of a pool of animators. (I might have taken that job.)

The biography is well-written, well-researched and sprinkled with strips illustrating how he used incidents in his own life as material. The strips bring the point home, helping the reader recognize or remember the simple brilliance of Peanuts.

Watch David Michaelis speak about Charles Schulz

Michaelis may be a Charlie Brown himself, always positioning what seems like normal events into a negative framework. As I rounded the corner into the second half of the book, the theme of "Charles is Charlie" turned into "Success does not make Schulz happy."

Around this point, I started to feel depressed myself. Maybe I had a few tough days, but I suspected the book itself might be making me feel very Charlie Brownie. I intend to finish the book, but for now, I have set it aside for a sunny day.

Chelsea One Bedroom

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 02:22:00 +0000

How great would it be to live just blocks from work?

This Chelsea one bedroom, priced well for a hot neighborhood, fulfills this Manhattanite's dream--walking to work in five minutes. At $685,000 and 725 square feet, it costs $945 per square foot in a neighborhood where $1,000 per sq ft is the bottom of the market.

Layout

A few oddities about the floor plan may explain the price. I am not a fan of apartment foyers--usually wasted space. You're lucky to be able to stick a bookcase against a wall, unless your bookcase is as narrow as the one in the photo. The foyer is pretty, but also pretty useless with a doorway on two of the walls and a door opening into the other two.

Can you really put a table in the "dining room"? Maybe if you stick it in the center and manuever around it every time you walk from one room to another.

The kitchen is only 4 foot, 6 inches deep. How deep is a refrigerator? At least two and a half, three feet, right? So you have eighteen inches of space between the appliances and the wall? With no photos of the dining room or kitchen, I am suspicious.

Bedroom and bathroom are a decent size and there seem to be enough closets for the average couple (but probably not for us). The apartment has a lot of character with archways and wrought iron railings, but does that compensate for the layout flaws?

Amenities

The building scores well on amenities.

You don't really need a doorman if you have a super who takes packages. Private storage is an amenity that doesn't occur to me to look for, it's so rare. Extra points for that.

I like a low floor (4th) and windows in both bath and kitchen score points. A roof deck and good light help as well. The description in the listing copy says "no view", so I suspect it's pretty hideous. I've had great views in New York, but I'd give it up in an instant for the right space.

Location

The location of this apartment is unbeatable. I'll give up my monthly Metro Card and I won't even need comfortable shoes. Chelsea rocks.

Price

Price ($685,000) is good for the square footage and location, but still out of my reach, so it can't rank more than three moons. $811 monthly maintenance is low for the area, but it should be low without a real doorman.

Open House Tuesday night, anyone?

George Carlin: Seven Words Ain't Enough

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 20:34:00 +0000

George Carlin's passing is getting a lot of well-deserved media attention.

Surprised me, because as a kid of the 70s, I think of him as the anti-establishment comedian, the type whose passing might only get a brief mention on the mainstream nightly news. But Carlin had a long career and the clips I saw of his early stuff is funny too. The early stuff is funny; the later stuff, great.

Despite my narrow scope of who's who in the world, Carlin is a fixture in the minds of several generations. The anti-establishment audience he began speaking to in the 70s is running the media now.

I don't know who this thought is attributed to, but I've heard good comedians are all angry inside. Carlin was crazy, funny and very angry.

In recent years, George put his anger in front of the humor rather than behind it. Anger behind humor is what makes us able to laugh at absurdities and stupidities. Anger is front of the humor pisses people off. (Thanks to George, I can say "piss.")

G and I saw Carlin in Las Vegas in 2001. He told the audience at the outset of the show that they were not the type of audience to appreciate his humor. He was there testing material for an HBO Special. Granted, I could see a lot of blue-haireds in the red velvet seats, but give them a chance, George I thought. But George Carlin still had it.

G reminds me of the bit Carlin did that culminated in "fuck the police!; fuck the police!; FUCK the police." Now that was funny and very angry.

Goodbye, George. We'll miss you.

The Strain of New York City Cranes

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 13:13:00 +0000

It's not unusual for New Yorkers to keep a narrow focus when moving around the city.

But since the recent deadly crane collapses in the city, I woke up and started counting the number of construction cranes I see daily.

G and I have been surrounded by construction for years. When we lived in Brooklyn, we watched the Brooklyn Law School dormitory go up a few feet behind us, stopping just short of blocking our Verrazano Bridge view from our 11th floor apartment. (Residents on lower floors weren't so lucky.)

An apartment building rose across the street and another one was built on the next block, on the corner of Atlantic and Court. A new courthouse three blocks away and a number of other projects surrounded us. Just as construction was wrapping up, we sold our apartment.

Fast forward to Battery Park City and watch the amount of construction increase exponentially. The towering monstrosity going up on the other side of the World Financial Center was the site of two accidents. A white dinosaur of a crane sticks far out of the big hole in the ground that was the World Trade Center. I walk by a half-built building and its crane companion, rising taller every day behind the Marriott Hotel.

Yesterday, a new ferry terminal floated into place on Vesey Street and now there is a tall crane lodged in the view from my living room window.

Suddenly I notice the cranes, more and more, taller and taller. Have they been there all along?

Big Brown, No Triple Crown

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 22:16:00 +0000

Not all Triple Crown winners get postage stamps, but the legendary Secretariat did.

Secretariat won the Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont Stakes in 1973, but, like everyone else, he didn't get his commemorative stamp until after his death. (If Secretariat had gotten his first class stamp in 1973, it would have been an 8-cent stamp. Stamps cost 29 cents between 1991 and 1994.)

Secretariat was a more legendary horse than his TC successors, Seattle Slew and Affirmed. Or so it seemed to me, hanging around with a best friend who was a horse nut.

Dee Dee plastered posters of Secretariat all over her bedroom. She also had a collection of plastic horses that sat on a sacred shelf. We lived across the street from the Laurel Race Track in Maryland and sometimes you could hear the track announcers from our apartment building.

By 1978 when Affirmed won, the Triple Crown may have lost some cachet. After all, the Triple Crown saw three winners in five years. But only eight other horses took the Triple Crown since the first winner in 1919.

Odds were a drought was ahead.

Thirty years later, Big Brown seemed destined to take the Crown. The media positioned it as a foregone conclusion. Yet, something was awry and Big Brown came in last. The drought continues.

Apartment Watch Update

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 22:56:00 +0000

June 1 is a good day to check in on the apartments I have been watching. It's a new month, a new home-buying season and change is in the air. (But I flip-flop on which way the change is headed.)

The lead in Wednesday's New York Times article sounds good for buyers:

"America’s home-buying season, when for-sale signs sprout like dandelions, is shaping up to be even worse than expected this year, with prices falling, sales slowing and few signs of a turnaround emerging."

The article talks a lot about the housing slowdown finally hitting Seattle, a market stronghold. But what about New York City?

Nationally, housing prices have dropped 14%. But the New York Times isn't much of a local paper when it comes to reporting the pricing trends in the city.

So I must rely on my own observations:

The Prospect Heights apartment on Plaza Street remains in contract.

Since I last checked, the Union Street apartment has gone into contract. It's a shame there's no way to tell if the accepted offer is above, at, or below the asking price.

The status of Washington Heights apartment status remains unchanged: no contract, no price change, no open house scheduled. G and I should really visit this one.

The apartment with the crazy floor plan also remains on the market at the original price. Surprised no one has snatched it up?

Brooke Astor's $46 million apartment is still listed unchanged.

One bright spot: an apartment I have been watching (but yet to profile) has cut its price by $50K. But when you're over $1 million, what's $50K?

The Book Thief

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sat, 31 May 2008 15:38:00 +0000

The book thief steals books to steal back the words, the power, that has been stolen from a society.

Hitler stole the ability to speak freely, act freely, and so much more from the Polish, the Jews and the Germans themselves. That is, he stole their words.

Liesel, our heroine and thief, is a nine-year-old German girl at the start of this novel that opens in 1939 and spans five horrible years. She steal books, starting with The Gravedigger's Handbook, dropped in the snow by the boy who buried her six-year-old brother. She pulls books from crisp piles left from a Nazi book-burning party.

Liesel doesn't understand her compulsion to steal, but we learn she is taking the words back that had been stolen, words that she didn't know how to read at first. She learns to read them, learns their power and ultimately uses them.

Death's Tale

Using Death as the tale's narrator is a technique that works and doesn't at the same time. Death's voice feels heavy-handed in parts, but isn't that what Death is, particularly during the Nazi era? Death hits you over the head with foreshadowing, not just hints, but outright revelations of what's to come in bold, centered type. Oddly, it works.

It's not typical to read about WWII from the perspective of non-Jewish German citizens. I loved that characters reveal themselves to be different from my expectations. And not in that, oh the author knows you are going to expect so-and-so, so he makes the characters be the opposite. The book also makes you understand--even just a little--how a shadow, an evil force can overtake a society.

Plus, you learn a few good German swear words.

Sex and My City

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sat, 31 May 2008 02:32:00 +0000

How many Cosmopolitans will be drunk around the nation tonight?

I left work at 1 pm today, a summer Friday, to see "Sex and the City" on its opening day. I never see movies on opening day, or opening weekend, or rarely in the theater at all. For G and me, it's Netflix or nothing.

Exceptions: we saw 1998's "Man on the Moon" opening weekend. And I saw 1990's "Godfather III" on opening night. Burned by GFIII, I never again assumed I need to rush to see a movie because I loved its predecessor.

I rarely watched "Sex and the City" during its small screen run. I liked the show when I came across it, but not enough to remember when it was on. But I was a loyal reader of Candace Bushnell's column in The Observer when I first moved to New York.

The Price of Over-Hype

I saw "Sex and the City," without reading any reviews in advance, but knowing the reviews are mixed. Like many, I went with a girl-group but I skipped the post-movie Cosmos.

The movie was not nearly as bad as the New York Times says, nor as great as the Fox News reviewer thinks. (But remember, Fox can make the Iraq war sound good.)

The movie did not make me sentimental for Carrie and gang; it made me sentimental for New York. Or specifically, how New York felt when I first got here in 1992. Every location in the movie was dizzyingly fantastic. I'm certain I ate in every blurred restaurant they showed, walked on every one of the streets. And what could be better than reuniting on The Brooklyn Bridge, running toward each other, one from each side?

When I first moved to New York, I couldn't say a bad word about it for years. In the movie, Samantha longs to return to New York. Her LA is all about sitting on deck chairs. Miranda flees Brooklyn, for Manhattan. Jennifer Hudson, as Carrie's personal assistant, says she came to New York for Love. To find it, that is. Hudson has all the sparkle of the new New Yorker.

I wish I could get some of that sparkle back. But I felt it, in the theater this afternoon.

Make the Most of Happy Hour

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Mon, 26 May 2008 17:24:00 +0000

How do people with normal salaries manage to enjoy any of New York's costly charms? Simple charms, like paying your rent and eating.

Sunday's New York Times article, Starting Salaries, but New York Tastes, brings back memories for me that ain't so far behind. The article refers to the "young newcomers to the city of a certain income — that is, those who are neither investment bankers nor being floated by their parents."

That describes me and everyone in my circle of friends when I arrived in late 1992.

I was so naive about the cost of living in New York, I thought I could share a two-bedroom apartment for $500 a month. I quickly upped my price to $650 and two roommates. I got an overdraft line of credit on my checking account. I dipped into it and paid it back every pay cycle.

Here are some other tactics either I or one of my friends resorted to:

Bringing a flask of vodka to bars (Alexi swill vodka, no less)

Seeking out Happy Hours with free food (a nod to the former Grappino's on 39th Street)

Giving up blondeness (that wasn't me)

Joining a group for drinks after they've gone to dinner

Attending art openings for the free wine

Putting hot baked potatoes in my pockets to keep my hands warm on the way to school (Wait, I'm misremembering. That was Francie in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.)

The scraping-by syndrome can last much longer than a couple of years out of college, even among professionals who get promotions and raises. People rely on business dinners to experience great New York restaurants for much of their careers. And for some musicians, actors and writers, scraping by is forever.

How New is New?

noreply@blogger.com (Midge) — Sat, 24 May 2008 20:18:00 +0000

How does Corcoran qualify an apartment to be listed under "Newest Properties" on its website?

I haven't figured their system out. Are the apartments listed as a "newest property" for a specified amount of time? Or are the parameters more fluid? I'd think Corcoran would want there to be a lot of new apartments popping onto the market all the time.

It's good business for buyers and sellers to feel there's a lot of action. Usually in Manhattan and in desirable Brooklyn neighborhoods, there is a lot of movement.

But last week, Corcoran listed about 575 new properties. I've seen as many as 700 or 800 new properties. Often, every single apartment in a new development is listed separately. That skews any analysis of the amount of listings. Today there are only 423.

There are 511 Open Houses listed on this Memorial Day weekend. A lot for a holiday weekend? Does the ratio of New Properties to Open Houses mean anything?

Trying to find an apartment gem, I scan the new listings trying to match my minimum square footage (750) with my maximum price (around 500K, more or less depending on monthly fees).

The only match I find is an 1000 square foot, two bedroom condo in Kensington, a neighborhood south of Brooklyn's Park Slope. But the open house was today, not tomorrow.

No loss, really, since we visit these apartments only on the web and in our imaginations. Also, we must not forget--our money is imprisoned.