Month: February 2005

Today’s NY Times , in “Appeal to Young on Pension Plan Gets the Attention of Their Elders” , Robin Toner writes on Sen. Rick Santorum’s attempt to promote Pres. Bush’s Social Security reform plan in Pennsylvania, Santorum’s home state. It’s a funny article, as Toner writes how Santorum appears exasperated in trying to get the young people to be as motivated about this as the older people:

Almost no one is a more outspoken advocate of President Bush’s Social Security plan than Senator Rick Santorum, the third-ranking Republican in the Senate leadership, who is campaigning across his state this week, trying to get young people to focus on their retirement.

Mr. Santorum argued, again and again, that the debate over Mr. Bush’s plan for private accounts was really about young people’s futures, because their benefits were at risk and because Mr. Bush had repeatedly promised that he would make no changes affecting Americans over 55.

This is a key element of the Republican strategy, creating an energized and mobilized younger generation fighting for its piece of an ownership society.

But there is a problem with that approach: retirees and those near retirement, a legendary political force, refuse to be shut out of the debate. At Widener University in Chester on Tuesday afternoon, people over 50 occupied perhaps half the seats at a forum held by Mr. Santorum and asked many of the questions – most of them negative.

At one point, Mr. Santorum looked out at the raised hands and said somewhat plaintively: “I’m seeing a lot of older hands. I’m not seeing any younger hands.”

But, later in the article Toner puts in what must have been the strangest quote of the day:

Mr. Santorum did get some support from his audiences on Tuesday. At Widener, Katherine Dombrowski, a 21-year-old junior, said she already had an individual retirement account and was “completely in support” of the idea of privatizing Social Security. “I don’t understand what everybody has against the idea of taking care of yourselves,” Ms. Dombrowski said to a smattering of applause.

Hmm. Gee, Ms. Dombrowski, did you actually think your words through before letting them out of your mouth? Isn’t it sort of against most religions to not look out for one’s fellow man? To be charitable, civil, and other stuff. I’m hardly a saint myself, but I’d hate to actually say out loud that we ought to look out for number 1 (the old me/myself/and I). And, the idea of Social Security is “Social” – that we look out for each other, particularly in the Depression era when we were in need of help. While Social Security may need reform, I’m not convinced that privatizing it is the answer. (In which case, come up with some program with a new name, because “Private Social Security” sounds oxymoronic).

Plus, a food article, by Daniel Young: French pizza, with French cheeses. Mmm. Sounds yummy:

FRANCIS CRESCI’S decision to ban mozzarella at the pizzeria he opened here in 1956 was less a matter of taste than conviction. It echoed the insistence of his grandfather, an immigrant from Umbria in Italy, that nary a word of Italian be heard in the family’s new home in Nice. The young Mr. Cresci thought his pizzas should speak either French or, like his grandfather, Nissart, a dialect with Italian and old Provençal influences.

“In every region of Europe the locals were eating foods produced on their land,” recalled Mr. Cresci, now 78. “I reckoned there was enough cheese to choose from in France.”

The nutty, buttery flavor of semihard cheeses like French Emmenthal and Cantal distinguishes much French pizza from Neapolitan-style pies made only with milky mozzarella. When the cheese is spread over a thin round of dough coated with tomato and herbs and then subjected to the relentless whoosh of heat in a brick oven, the result is a bubbling, molten masterpiece.

“C’est une pizza qui vive,” said Mr. Cresci’s son, Ludovic, who now oversees La Pizza, his father’s business. Sure enough, that pizza is alive.

Last night’s “House, M.D.” on FOX was curiously interesting. We get more inkling of why Dr. House is such a misogynist – something didn’t work out with a woman in the past (isn’t it always?). House isn’t happy when his only friend in the hospital, Dr. Wilson, ditches House’s plan to go the see a Monster Truck event (a NJ thing, I daresay, for a show that takes place in NJ). Indeed, to House’s concern, Wilson is going to see a woman (who may or may not have been The Woman in House’s life; dare we detect jealousy? Well, House forgives Wilson, saying, “Well, she’s your friend, so I can’t stop you.”). House then turns to young Dr. Cameron to be his guest to the Monster Truck event (which they maintain is NOT a date for the two lonely singletons. Right – well, she is House’s student, so to speak, so perhaps they ought to avoid “dating” in that sense).

By coincidence, my sister and I also went to Central Park yesterday morning to see The Gates (didn’t see FC and P, but it felt like everybody was there). We didn’t walk as far (from Columbus Circle to probably up to 72nd Street, west to east, and then back down again). Cold, but walking had to get the blood going.

I’m not sure exactly what would be the artistic meaning behind it (is it “have art for art’s sake”? is it mere aesthetics? if it’s mere aesthetics, because we all like to look at something pretty and reflective of light and texture, is it still art? are art and aesthetics one and the same?). Maybe the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude just do it to let us think of what we will – we become the “artists” so to speak – we make or derive our own value of what we look at; the photographers out make photos – make their own art; and so on.

I’ll give Christo and Jeanne-Claude this much credit – I was impressed about seeing an alternative universe NYC – everybody who came out to Central Park looked happy. So many smiling faces, from people of probably every race, national origin and religion, etc. Orange (“saffron”) in winter just makes a nice warm feeling inside.

Oh, and I was telling my sister that seeing the actual Westminster Dog Show was unnecessary – Central Park with The Gates was where all the dogs worthy of being seen were. Plus, the some dogs wore sweaters and booties – a literal dog fashion show.

Then, Sunday afternoon, I went to a co-worker’s engagement party in the Lower East Side, and the bunch of us hanged out for a bit afterward. Much cake eaten.

Watched some of my videotapes today: notable viewing – “Broadcast News” (or most of it anyway, because my VCR missed the first minute or two). Quite a movie – Holly Hunter, William Hurt, and Albert Brooks, with sharp dialogue and insight, plus a romantic triangle that wasn’t too romantic. Hurt is the talented anchorman who’s lacking actual journalistic sense (more self-promotion than substance – and he knows it, which makes it feel worse – because that means he’s not as vacant as he looks); Brooks is his rival, a longtime reporter who has his eye on the anchor seat; and Hunter is the news producer in between. Brooks and Hunter are convinced that they are smarter than everyone else (and they are), but they’re so sharp, they’re rather socially inept. Hurt is smooth, but stupid and senses that he’s being put down; at the same time, he’s exploiting them and their talents as better journalists (or exploiting Hunter’s talent, anyway). Hunter (emotionally speaking) loves both guys, they love her, and all three are nuts. Oh, and network news – yeah, it’s an annoying thing, because the tv news department executives are panderers and twirps.

Hmm. And, this was a movie made in the 1980’s? Some of satire on the anchorman stuff are too right on the money. I don’t think I can look at NBC’s Brian Williams the same way again (especially when he has a passing resemblance to William Hurt’s good, serious looks and is on that journey of Big Shot Network News Anchorman).

But, at some points, the passage of time is pretty evident – when Hunter’s character catches Hurt’s character in pretending to cry in his interviewing of a date rape victim (in an attempt to pander to viewers and milk the pathos of the story), she accuses him of crossing the journalist’s ethical line – to which he responds with a blunt “well, the line is constantly being pushed and re-drawn anyway.” Boy, is that mild compared to what real life anchormen get themselves into (i.e., CBS’ Dan Rather’s fiasco with the story on George W. Bush’s National Air Guard Service).

So it goes. It’ll be back to work tomorrow. Sigh.

Sunday began with an ultra early ultra late Chinese New Year’s dim sum with P-‘s dad. Chinatown was swamped with an array of dragon dancing parading. Then we went up to Time Warner Center with P-‘s brother as he hadn’t seen it yet. Williams-Sonoma had noodle soup and a olive oil bar on offer for snacking. Upstairs we checked out Borders, which had a not so good selection of Japan books. Then it was down to Whole Foods and Jamba Juice. By the time we got out it was about 4 PM, where we entered The Gates at W 65th Street. If the whole point was to get everyone out into the park in freezing weather the middle of February, it definately worked. For every serious comment about its artistic merit – the sun gives it a great hue, it looks like a orange highlight through the park – there were some knocks, such as it looked like bath curtains and it made the entire park look like a construction site. Microsoft missed a co-branding opportunity: it could have been called The Bill Gates. We made it all the way up to Belvedere Castle, where we could see the largest swarth of orange as the sun set. Ultimately, I thought it was good for New York to rediscover the park.