Michael Ian Black’s recent New York Times column cemented my decision to never take a cruise. So Uncool, It’s Cool. Not. He liked the mindless ordinariness. All I could focus on were the stairs, elevators, and confinement on crowded decks “surrounded by a thousand fleshy strangers in swimsuits”, yuk! Everything I thought bad seems to be true.
However, he linked a 1997 essay by David Foster Wallace, A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again. Wallace’s solo adventure on the megaliner Zenith, which he dubbed the Nadir. It was one of the funniest best written pieces I’ve ever read. A self-proclaimed semi-agoraphobe, he liked his cabin a lot. Since he eventually committed suicide, I won’t say I could relate. But. It was hilarious. The footnotes were priceless. Will be exploring other of his works.
Journahillation. The entire press corps seemed stunned by Trump’s ascension and is now motivated by a guilty conscience. So-called reporters exhibit exasperation. Selectively edit print content. Slip into disdain and disgust while narrating a story line. Use language such as “galling” to describe a congressman’s words. The New York Times was so consumed with navel-gazing it missed the rise of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez in its own backyard. Bronx & Queens. The Supreme Court vacancy has thrown anchors into panicky flop-sweat alarmist rants.
It did start with so-called Fox News. True. There are divisions. Hypocrisy. Yes. But. Journalists are not supposed be Opinionators. Hard to find objectivity anywhere. It’s all Skewed News.
If it’s slanted toward limiting guns. Then it’s okay.
Not those Queens quips from Hot Air One. Although they qualify. It’s what’s overheard on the street. People on cell phones talking at high decibels. Intimate conversations with lovers. Bosses firing employees. The quack doc complaining about his wacky girlfriend crying on the floor in front of the elevators in the lobby of his building. Mother berating another over how to parent. Wife telling someone her husband’s working late every night. Even on weekends. She’s stuck home with the kids. Yup. It’s an audible soap opera every day. We can hear you!
Word on the street. U.S. Open. Ricky Fowler for the win. Wishing for Poulter. Looks like D.J.
The Spotted Pig, trendy mainstay of the West Village has been the fodder for recent #MeToo due to bad behavior by restaurateur duo Mario Batali and Ken Friedman. Friedman’s chef co-owner April Bloomfield has parted ways with him after pretending to be oblivious to the debauched behavior in the venue’s after-hours-upstairs. Drugging and raping staff. Allegedly.
News today that another woman is going to partner with Friedman to revive The Spotted Pig. Gabrielle Hamilton, author of Blood, Bones & Butter and decades-acclaimed chef owner of East Village gem Prune. A renegade rebel from lobster fiascos at upscale camps in the Berkshires, to line chef at Curtis & Schwartz in Northampton while at Hampshire College, as told in Table’s Edge. This is an interesting decision. But. Hey. Go Gabrielle! You are a true survivor.
My comments were NYTimes Picks today – on Maureen Dowd’s column Bill’s Belated #MeToo Moment, and Kat Stoeffel’s about her mother’s obsession with a certain cable news network, The Age of the MSNBC Mom. Never without an opinion. Duck and cover on the UWS!
Tony’s. Saw nominated Amy Schumer in Meteor Shower and Mark Rylance in his playwright wife Claire Van Kampen’s Farinelli & the King. Also Parisian Woman with Uma Thurman. Not nominated. For good reason. As for most everything else. Re-treads. And. If SpongeBob is any indication of the musical’s future. It’s dark. On the bright side tonight’s showstoppers Sara & Josh. And. Parkland High School’s poignantly performed Seasons of Love from Rent.
Bruce Springsteen is the heartland’s melodic poet. Recalls the global Bourdain. Jersey boys.
Bea and Ariane. Kate Spade’s and Anthony Bourdain’s daughters. 13 and 11. They are the true victims of their parent’s suicides this week. Their loss is exacerbated by a future of questions and abandonment. Whether intended or not. Also feel for Eric Ripert who found his pal Tony. It’s not something he’ll ever forget. Guilt. Remorse. Who knows. For other family and loved ones as well. These acts take such a toll.
Bourdain’s poetic storytelling was masterful. He brought people from far away cultures into our homes. His joie de vivre was contagious. It seemed. But, his dark side crept out in many journeys as he recalled past demons of substance abuse. Credit him with shining a bright light on the opioid epidemic in Western Massachusetts. It was a catalyst to delve into the rural crises which became a national focus in the 2016 campaign.
Parts unknown. Indeed. Sad sad days.
So bereft that Melania has been spotted honoring Gold Star Families at the White House tonight. Dispelled our favorite fantasy conspiracy theory that she went the way of Scientology David Miscavige’s wife Shelly. Ruined the whole night’s cable coverage of the missing Stepford. Back to Don Jr. and Kimberly Guilfoyle.
On to good television choices. Four episodes of Collateral on Netflix shines a light on immigration in England. And it’s an intriguing murder story as well. Succession on HBO has promise. First episode of ten was fun. The Murdoch’s? Dynasty starring Jerry Hall.