Author: ssw15

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.

Ruby’s, the bookstore on Chambers St. in downtown Manhattan, closing shop on March 7. Very sad to see it go – even if I don’t go enough, it’s one of those places that has been around so long but has to go because of crazy rents and the changing neighborhood (apparently, the lack of yuppies working in the area meant less customers – because not as many around during the lunch hour – and people who just live in the area don’t go buy books). Go buy while you can; 50% off on the already discounted prices (which I did today, because I couldn’t stop myself; but at least I didn’t splurge).

Meanwhile, I am reading Dante’s “Divine Comedy” – having read “Inferno” back in college, the idea was to one day read all three volumes (in a beautifully translated version; it’s not like I can read Italian). So far as I can say right now, “Purgatory” didn’t have the graphic lunacy of “Inferno,” but had lovely poetry and more philosophy. I’m up to “Paradise” – loaded with philosophical and religious and political elements that fly over my head, but I’ll get through this.

On with the weekend…

Friday’s “Star Trek: Enterprise” requires a second viewing to appreciate, because in the meantime, it’s so plot-heavy, it really makes no sense. All kinds of stuff are happening:

– we may be getting an actual explanation for why the Klingons of the Original Trek era were human-looking (i.e., without the forehead ridges), tied in with the previous “Enterprise” arc about the Super Human Augments/Dr. Soong. But, I preferred it when the folks behind Trek left the mystery a mystery. It left more to the imagination (and, besides, as Star Trek’s favorite Klingon, Worf, has said: “We do not discuss it.” – yeah, Worf).

– Dr. Phlox, in the tried and true tradition of Trek’s principled medical doctors, is refusing to give in to poor medical practices of the Klingons, even if they kidnapped him to exploit his medical prowess (them Klingons used genetic engineering for imperial reasons; which let loose a mutated flu virus that was killing people – and so are forcing Phlox find a cure in two days. Good grief, and they didn’t think Phlox wouldn’t be mad about this? Like he said, it’d at least take him weeks to find a cure – all by his lonesome self – all because the Klingon pride won’t kindly, officially ask for help).

– Chief Engineer Trip transfers to Enterprise’s sister ship, relying on the excuse that he wants to contribute to the continued development of warp-worthy spaceships – but he’s really trying to find a way to avoid dealing with his romantic entanglement with the Enterprise First Officer, T’Pol. The angst between them is getting tragic, if not tedious and I almost want to tell the writers to just resolve it already. I suppose it’s an improvement over the poor romantic relationship building in Trek (like how in “Star Trek: Deep Space 9,” Worf grew attached to Ezri without seriously reflecting that it isn’t a good idea to jump into things with a woman whose past life was as his late wife; or how in “Star Trek: Voyager,” Chakotay suddenly fell for Seven (and we’re really supposed to believe that it was for her mind and personality, and not for her body – sure, Chakotay)).

– We get actual character development in watching security chief Malcolm Reed – he’s turning into a guilt-ridden James Bondish sort (I guess all British actors/characters have the potential to be Bondish, if I do recall what happened to Dr. Bashir on “Star Trek: DS9”). Reed’s compromised himself as a Starfleet officer – or so it appears, because he’s covering about what happened to Dr. Phlox. He sadly tells Capt. Archer that he has other obligations than Archer, the crew, or even Starfleet. Hmm. It looks like Reed is involved in some kind of black ops group. Are we watching the roots of the notorious Section 31, the Federation’s notorious spy group that drove Dr. Bashir and Capt. Sisjo nuts on “Star Trek: DS9”? Except we can’t be sure, since Reed is (respectfully) refusing to tell Capt. Archer anything. (got to hand it to the British stiff-upper-lip, I guess). Glad to see that Reed’s more than just The British Guy Who Likes to Shoot and Blow Things Up, but it feels weird that this whole Secret Agent Reed comes out of nowhere.

And more confusing stuff, such that the episode felt more like way too much set up and total confusion. I wanted to like the episode, but I kept wondering “what is going on?” I guess that’s what these first episodes of the arcs do.

The beauty of “Star Trek: DS9″‘s arcs was that DS9 allowed arcs to develop and let the viewer breathe to appreciate the characters’ messy problems. It got crazy, of course – there was that season where every character was rejected/alienated from their friends/family/homeworld. “Enterprise” tends to feel like a rush job (an improvement over “Voyager,” but this whole rushing thing this season feels like I have to hold onto my seat belt). As the UPN says, these are the final voyages of the starship Enterprise…

And, the news on the big change of Bugs Bunny and Friends. There’s just something so wrong about that. Warner Brothers has done some great modern animation (that is, of the past 10-15 years) with stuff like its Batman franchise, Superman, Justice league, (although the current Batman and Teen Titans are very much targeted to the young set, while the others had some themes that made me wonder whether kids really got it) – and I miss the funny stuff of Animaniacs and Tiny Toons. But, to make a Futuristic Superhero version of Bugs Bunny? Umm… well, we’ll see. (disclosure: I’m the one with the Classic Bugs Bunny (the version of him of the past 50 years) as a key chain. I might very well not buy Bugs in a new form; heck, I barely accept that anyone other than the late Mel Blanc as the voice of Bugs).

Three day weekend – salute to Presidents’ Day (the holiday which conflates Washington’s birthday and Lincoln’s, never mind that Lincoln’s birthday was last week).

“American Idol” – is it me, or is it getting more annoying with each season? (and they’re now in the phase where they’re not focusing on the lousy singers)…

Thanks to the handy dandy VCR, I watched UPN’s “Veronica Mars” and it is a watchable fun show. The detective work is clever – it’s the mind of Nancy Drew meeting the sexy shiny style of Magnum, P.I. (I think it’s a strange combo for me to come up with, but that’s what I’ll come up with), and the cast is attractive. (although, for a cast in high school, they sure look too old).

But, I sure do still dig “House, M.D.” on Fox: crazy Dr. House finally admits that he is addicted to Vicodin, but he still says it’s not a problem. Nope, Dr. House says the pain in his stroke-afflicted leg is the problem and the painkiller would let him do his job. Oh, and he swears the only thing in his life is his job (that of being the gifted diagnostician with the seriously sucky bedside manner). Well, clearly Dr. House is an addict who won’t take the first step of rehab (’cause you really ought to admit that you have a problem). Gripping tv, even if the plots get over the top.

A NY Times profile of an Asian-American Orthodox Jewish performing artist, Rachel Factor in “True to Her Orthodox Beliefs, if Not to Her Roots” by Sarah Bronson:

In many ways, Rachel Factor’s show is typical of one-woman performances: there’s the microphone, the bar stool, the empty stage; several original songs; autobiographical monologues full of humor, pathos, bittersweet memories.

And if the title, “J.A.P.,” might be offensive to Asians or to Jews, who may recognize the shorthand for “Jewish American Princess,” then that is not so unusual either. Performers often lampoon their own heritage, and that is precisely what Ms. Factor, a Japanese-American and unreligious Christian who converted to Orthodox Judaism, is doing.

“If you break down the words of the title, it represents where I’ve come in my life, in terms of my self-image,” she explained in a telephone interview recently. “The meaning of the words are very beautiful. I’m Japanese. And Jewish. And American, just as American as anyone else who was born here. I don’t consider myself a princess, but I consider myself worthy for the first time in my life.”

In the show, Ms. Factor, who was born Christine Horii in Hawaii, relates her journey from a high-kicking Rockette at Radio City Music Hall to Israel, where she now lives with her husband and two children. She is currently on a 41-city American tour, performing to sold-out auditoriums at synagogues, community centers and Jewish high schools, all the audiences filled exclusively with women, as her strict faith demands. [….]

Growing up in Honolulu, Ms. Factor had all the advantages of a prestigious prep-school education, she says in the production, but felt ashamed of her Asian looks. She opens her show by re-enacting her childhood efforts to create creases in her eyelids with tape and eyelash glue.

At 18, she left for Los Angeles to pursue a dance career and quickly found professional gigs, including work as a backup dancer for Jody Watley and Belinda Carlisle, a stint as a Rockette, and jobs in the choruses of the Broadway productions of “Shogun” and “Miss Saigon.” Highlights of her show are the moments she demonstrates, in a long skirt, the moves from her music videos and concert tours.

Despite the ignorant comments she often encountered, like “What country are you from? No, where are you really from?,” she embraced her culture and set out to date Asian men. But she met and fell in love with Todd Factor, a television commercial producer, who told her it was important that his wife be Jewish. Her reaction, as she recalls in her show: “Well, it makes a lot of sense then that you would be dating me!” [….]

“It was a difficult choice,” she said about abandoning public performances in favor of Orthodoxy. “Not only was it my career and my livelihood, it was my artistic outlet and my identity. I thought I couldn’t reconcile Orthodox Judaism with my desire to express myself in the manner I had been doing.” Soon after her conversion, the family moved to Israel, where Mr. Factor could study at a yeshiva for the newly Orthodox.

In Jerusalem, Ms. Factor performed the show, which she had initially written before her second conversion, for a friend, who urged her to repeat it for neighbors. She added a monologue about her Orthodox conversion, and soon women and girls were coming in groups of 40 to hear her speak and sing. Living rooms gave way to local theaters, and tickets sold quickly, particularly to American expatriate Orthodox women who felt validated by the story of a glamorous dancer who had chosen to join their community.

Hmm. So, she felt weird about being Asian in the white man’s world. And, she finds spirituality vitality in Orthodox Judaism and now lives in Israel. Hmm. I wonder what it must be like to be Asian in Israel. Do people there still ask the stupid question of “Where are you really from?”

R.W. Apple, Jr., of the NY Times discusses the savoriness of Puerto Rican cuisine in the early 21st Century, in “Puerto Rico, Flavored with Contradictions.” Just reading the article made me feel full:

Far from the cobbled streets of Old San Juan, in the shimmering new Museum of Art of Puerto Rico, Wilo Benet has developed a menu at once sophisticated, innovative and (with few exceptions) grounded in indigenous traditions and ingredients. After stints in the vaunted kitchens of the Water Club and Le Bernardin in New York, Mr. Benet came home to Puerto Rico and continued to soak up influences from chefs as diverse as Paul Prudhomme in New Orleans and Jean Vigato of Apicius in Paris.

Now he presides over Pikayo, off the museum’s lobby, a restaurant filled with modern Puerto Rican art, divided by frosted glass partitions and gauzy screens, furnished with ample chairs (with a pillow at the base of the diner’s back) and washed by changing, soft-hued lights. This is a big-time room, frequented by the city’s elite.

Betsey [ak.a. Mrs. Apple] and I and our chum Susana Torruella Leval, San Juan-born but long resident in Manhattan, were impressed by the kitchen’s artistry: not only the way the food was cooked but the way it looked on the plates. All of us loved a buttery dish of tender Japanese squid, flavored with roasted garlic and cilantro, and tuna tartare with spicy peanut sauce, a ribbon of balsamic vinegar and pine nuts. I was completely hooked by fat, flavorful grilled shrimp topped with smoky, finely shredded chorizo, nestled on a beurre blanc infused with soursop, a lushly sweet-and-tart tropical fruit. Orange shrimp, deep-red chorizo and off-white sauce: it made an edible color study.

Ah…

Hope you’re all having a nice V-day.

NY Times article: “Between Truth and Lies, An Unprintable Ubiquity,” by Peter Edidin – profiles the story of Harry G. Frankfurter, a Princeton philosophy professor, and his essay. “On Bull—-” (NY Times, as a family publication, couldn’t exactly print out the title, but you and I and the rest of the universe can pretty much figure it out; be advised that the appearances of the word “bull” in brackets below were what the Times had, not any editing on my part!):

The opening paragraph of the 67-page essay is a model of reason and composition, repeatedly disrupted by that single obscenity:

“One of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much [bull]. Everyone knows this. Each of us contributes his share. But we tend to take the situation for granted. Most people are rather confident of their ability to recognize [bull] and to avoid being taken in by it. So the phenomenon has not aroused much deliberate concern, nor attracted much sustained inquiry.”

The essay goes on to lament that lack of inquiry, despite the universality of the phenomenon. “Even the most basic and preliminary questions about [bull] remain, after all,” Mr. Frankfurt writes, “not only unanswered but unasked.”

The balance of the work tries, with the help of Wittgenstein, Pound, St. Augustine and the spy novelist Eric Ambler, among others, to ask some of the preliminary questions – to define the nature of a thing recognized by all but understood by none.

What is [bull], after all? Mr. Frankfurt points out it is neither fish nor fowl. Those who produce it certainly aren’t honest, but neither are they liars, given that the liar and the honest man are linked in their common, if not identical, regard for the truth.

“It is impossible for someone to lie unless he thinks he knows the truth,” Mr. Frankfurt writes. “A person who lies is thereby responding to the truth, and he is to that extent respectful of it.”

The bull artist, on the other hand, cares nothing for truth or falsehood. The only thing that matters to him is “getting away with what he says,” Mr. Frankfurt writes. An advertiser or a politician or talk show host given to [bull] “does not reject the authority of the truth, as the liar does, and oppose himself to it,” he writes. “He pays no attention to it at all.”

And this makes him, Mr. Frankfurt says, potentially more harmful than any liar, because any culture and he means this culture rife with [bull] is one in danger of rejecting “the possibility of knowing how things truly are.” It follows that any form of political argument or intellectual analysis or commercial appeal is only as legitimate, and true, as it is persuasive. There is no other court of appeal.

The reader is left to imagine a culture in which institutions, leaders, events, ethics feel improvised and lacking in substance. [….]

For Mr. Frankfurt, who says it has always been his ambition to move philosophy “back to what most people think of as philosophy, which is a concern with the problems of life and with understanding the world,” the book might be considered a successful achievement. But he finds he is still trying to get to the bottom of things, and hasn’t arrived.

“When I reread it recently,” he said at home, “I was sort of disappointed. It wasn’t as good as I’d thought it was. It was a fairly superficial and incomplete treatment of the subject.”

“Why,” he wondered, “do we respond to [bull] in such a different way than we respond to lies? When we find somebody lying, we get angry, we feel we’ve been betrayed or violated or insulted in some way, and the liar is regarded as deceptive, deficient, morally at fault.”

Why we are more tolerant of [bull] than lying is something Mr. Frankfurt believes would be worth considering.

“Why is lying regarded almost as a criminal act?” he asked, while bull “is sort of cuddly and warm? It’s outside the realm of serious moral criticism. Why is that?”

Hmm. Curiously interesting. But, I still wonder – wouldn’t it have been easier for the Times to just print “B.S.” than putting in “bull” in brackets? Or, is the abbreviation “B.S.” also considered profanity by itself?

A NY Times article on the wok, by Julia Moskin:

WHEN Grace Young’s family went to restaurants, her father always insisted that they sit right next to the swinging door to the kitchen. A liquor salesman who felt at home in every restaurant in San Francisco’s Chinatown, her father said food had to be eaten just moments out of the wok, while it is still fresh, hot and exuding wok hay, a Cantonese term, unknown in other parts of China, that translates loosely as “wok energy” or “wok breath.”

Wok hay is what happens when excellent ingredients – like ginger, noodles, shrimp, walnuts or Chinese chives – meet a wok crackling with heat. It is both a taste and aroma and something else, too, a lively freshness that prickles your nose and makes you impatient for that first taste, like the smell of steak just off the grill or a tomato right off the vine in August. Food with wok hay tastes intensely of itself.

“Wok hay makes the difference between a good stir-fry and a great one,” said Ms. Young, who traveled to China in 2000 and 2002 to study and document wok cooking and traditions. Her book, “The Breath of a Wok” (Simon & Schuster, 2004), is both an attempt to define wok hay and a guide to achieving it in an American kitchen. “It’s something that you create with a hot wok,” Ms. Young said, “but it’s also something you release that is already in the food.”

Today is the first day of the Lunar New Year, a 15-day celebration of renewal, which is the most important holiday of the Chinese year: Christmas, New Year’s Day, Easter and Yom Kippur all bundled together. It is considered the most auspicious time to buy a new wok or other cooking tools.[….]

And, fitting in with the holiday, I saw “The Wedding Date” movie the other day: cheesy movie, nothing too taxing, but heavy on the idea that all you need is love…

The passing of actor/civil rights activist Ossie Davis and playwriter Arthur Miller – Broadway’s lights off much too much lately.

Because Monday’s Valentine’s Day (too commercialized – boo, hiss!) – I suppose I could be more optimistic and positive about it – at least, Slate.com did – with its resident poet editor(and former American Poet Laureate) Robert Pinsky making nice romantic poetry selections.

I wanted so badly to avoid watching “The Apprentice” the other night, but I did end up watching. And, it was silly. The teams’ task was to make commercials for Dove body soap, and they both made really lousy, stupid, tasteless ads. TV Guide.com made the point that the ads’ lousiness could be attributed to the extremely short time span that the teams were given to make the ads (I’d also have to say that it probably didn’t help that not one of these Trump Apprentice wannabes were advertising people anyway); MSNBC.com made the point that their ads were lousy, period, so it’s only fair for both teams to be in the boardroom. But, whatever – I’m beginning to get tired with “The Apprentice” and the tasks, which are getting more ridiculous.

I really like the show “House” on FOX, Tuesday night. Fascinating character development.

Wednesday: “Jack and Bobby” on WB – well, this week, Jack catches his (single) professor mother as she was about to have a little frisky intimacy with her (much younger) graduate student Tom; Tom, being half-naked on the McAllister family dining room table, leaps ten feet in the air due to the surprise of being caught by the teenage son of the house; and Jack’s main line (stated out of shock) was, “That must be some thesis.” Very funny scene. While Jack gets ridiculously righteous at his mother, he does accept that she’s allowed to have a life (albeit very reluctantly). And, Bobby continues the path to American presidency (learning a lesson – the hard way – that hunting game is not a hobby he wants to have and that killing is not easy).

And, this Friday night – I thought it made no sense for the other Duff sister (whom I shall dub henceforth dub “Sister of Hilary,” because I do not remember this poor young girl’s actual name) guest-starring on CBS’ “Joan of Arcadia.” Plus, I kept asking my friend, The TV, did Joan’s dad ever realize that he could have made an internal complaint of sexual harassment against his mean lady boss, the acting chief of police? (plus, the acting chief of police once again proves how retarded the police of the city of Arcadia usually are – since she deprived a drug supplier his rights by having him… executed). Hmm…

Oh, and (thanks to the handy-dandy VCR) I also caught this Friday’s “Star Trek: Enterprise” – curiously interesting. The Andorian storyline resolved (Shran, our Favorite Mean-Streak Blue Andorian commander, is still friends with Capt. Archer) – with a death element was kind of unexpected. Snd, Chief Engineer Trip – ah, I like that character and the actor does such a nice job – well, anyway, poor old Trip is having trouble staying professional but being too distracted with the throes of love (well, the acting turned out way better than I’m describing it). And, Trip can’t even express it to his best friend, the captain? Umm, the Trip storyline ought to be resolved.

And, gee, thanks UPN for promoting Final Episodes of “Star Trek: Enterprise” and Having You the Viewer Watched These Special Final Episodes of the Voyages of the Starship Enterprise. I really needed to be reminded that you, UPN, are ending this particular franchise of the Trek genre. [insert sarcasm here] …

So it goes. Enjoy the weekend….

NY1.com has nice footage of the celebration in Chinatown.

Ironically (or not) – cops caught folks in the Bronx with their roosters, prepped for rather illegal cock-fighting. Sad stuff – respect the rooster. Eat them, be nice to them, but don’t make them fight each other (and make it worse by surgically altering them to get more profit…)

U of Southern California’s Norm Chow must be having a nice Lunar New Year – he’s been hired to be the offensive coordinator for the NFL’s Tennessee Titans.

So, anyone have interesting plans for the holiday?

Rooster time…

Too soon to make any real analysis, but here are some thoughts –

– like it was any surprise that New England Patriots would win. Kind of boring game, and while it was nice that Philadelphia Eagles made it as close a score deficit as they could, the game was what it was.

– the opening stuff – patriotic; honoring the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II; appearances by the veterans of that Greatest Generation and Pres. George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton. Plus, a rousing Star Spangled Banner by military choirs and appearances by military jets, etc.

– Sir Paul McCartney doing the half-time show, clearly a reactionary approach to last year’s Wardrobe Malfunction involving Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake. While I love Paul as much as anyone else and thought he did a nice job, the halftime show felt like the game itself – felt very conservative. Guess we can’t expect any risk-taking anymore.

– the commercials – most of them felt like poor production stuff (at least that ridiculous GoDaddy.com ad certainly did). CareerBuilder.com had a funny/sad series of ads wherein this poor guy clearly needs a new job, because he literally works for a company of monkeys/chimps. Budweiser did a nice neat job. Muppets doing ads for Pizza Hut – well, a little predictable there. Pepsi was all right, but also nothing too spectacular. Direct TV did a nostalgia ad of TV over the years. Lays Potato Chips had a funny ad, but for the appearance of MC Hammer (yeah, that guy from the 1980’s – makes you wonder how much more suffering that man can take). Ameriquest Mortgage Co. (sponsor of the halftime show) had a bunch of really silly ads. Oh, well. Let’s see what the Ad Report in Slate.com will say.

– The Simpsons’ Post Super Bowl episode – wherein Homer is assigned the task of choreographing the halftime show, with help from Ned Flanders’ Christian Coalition approach of making a halftime show. Very absurd, weird stuff of the World of the Simpsons, plus plenty of guest stars (NBA’s LeBron James and Yao Ming; NFL’s Warren Sapp and the winner Tom Brady; Michelle Kwan).

Back to work, but it should be short work week, since I’m taking time away from the office for Lunar New Year.