Category: Brooklyn

I’m in a writing funk, but here are some pics of me standing in the middle of the next 5 inches of snow:

Corner of Court and Atlantic

Light and Trees

Atlantic Avenue facing east

More snow – heavy stuff. NYC public school kids have already been told of closing! (of course, I’m still bitter about never having a snow day during my entire NYC public school life, and in high school, senior year, we had this one horrible winter when it should have been closed; ironically, schools did close, one year later…).

NY Times’ Quotation of the day for 1/27/04:

“There has been an enduring idea that one day everyone would fly in space. But now young people are saying maybe we all go into space but we go mentally, virtually, electronically — we don’t go with our bodies.” – Howard McCurdy, author of “Space and the American Imagination.”

According to the corresponding article, the excitement of the Mars rovers (who are cute little things to which people are attaching personalities and sympathies) are apparently making science/astronomy nerds out of all of us. It doesn’t hurt that NASA’s website is making it easier for people to feel the attachment – the pictures are amazing and our imagination just soars with them. Maybe something positive can come out of the Mars effort, assuming that the government and politics don’t co-opt it (perhaps wishful thinking on my part).

Okay, okay, so this is the article wherein the NY Times wonders if the cold’s making NY’ers’ brains go numb. Hmm. Makes me like the other article from yesterday, with the Icelander saying that this weather was worse than what he knew in Iceland. I just don’t like the idea of my brain going numb because of the cold weather. The idea sounds like a wacky B movie or something. Besides, malapropism is a problem that may not have anything to do with the cold weather numbing our brains; a person saying she’s “preparing for winter” when she meant “for summer” may be reflecting the thoughts deep in her mind – a Freudian slip to express one’s fondness for much warmer temperatures…

NJ Nets’ firing of head coach Byron Scott was rather stunning news. I mean, it was already unsurprising that he didn’t quite care about the possible move to Brooklyn, since he was more worried about his job security (the Nets weren’t going to make any move until 2005, and Scott, understandably, couldn’t imagine looking to that year if his team wasn’t doing so hot in 2004). But, they really terminated his employment fast.

Currently watching Nova – spooky and fascinating episode on the Mayans. An oldie but a goodie. Check it out when your PBS rebroadcasts it.

I have got to stay away from political stuff already, but – as the NY Times notes – these Vermont tapes of Dr. Dean’s gubernatorial days are fascinating for the nuance he has demonstrated in the past (but has been pressed to show these days). Then again, do voters want nuanced candidates (which Kerry sort of is, if we listen to him or check his voting record) or something else?

Right now on Mars – the little rover Opportunity has landed. This is amazing stuff.

As someone who majored in history in college, the impending release of Justice Blackmun’s papers sounds exciting to me. It also shows one pro argument to being a pack rat – you get to be adored by scholars for your treasure trove. (of course, we still have to think about the one con argument, like that guy in the news who was almost crushed by his piles of stuff; you can’t keep everything, unless you’re a Supreme Court justice with a Library of Congress to which you could donate the stuff).

Well, I’m all caught up on “Angel” now, and am eagerly awaiting for more.

According to the tv guide and the commercials, this week’s “Star Trek: Enterprise” is back on a rerun, just when I was eager for it to push on already – and it’s a rerun that I didn’t particularly like (time-traveling episodes that rely on the reset button are never my favorites). Then again, feel free to check it out; the acting was good and the writing seemed all right. I just didn’t too much for the episode’s plot.

I actually watched more of “The Apprentice” last night – NBC’s shameless attempt to get viewers on a night that they cannot plug in with a mere movie. It’s scary watching office politics play out as a “reality gameshow” – eww. But, it’s hard to resist, much like most of reality gameshows. I need something else to do on Saturday nights, evidentally.

“Monk” on ABC – the return of Tony Shalhoub as the Defective Detective on network tv – yeah! a way to catch up on Season 2’s episodes when I lack cable at home. Good fun, even if I was able to figure out the murderer too easily. The fun is in watching Monk figure it out the mystery’s solution. The mix of drama and comedy is also solid as ever.

Guilty viewing television – “The Forsyte Saga”(Series 1) on PBS’ “Masterpiece Theatre” is engaging and addicting as a soapy/serious drama. Actor Damian Lewis (who was in “Band of Brothers”) is scary and empathetic as Soames Forsyte, a British 19th century lawyer who would do anything to stay with Irene Heron, a woman who didn’t want to be his wife and who has managed to enchant every Forsyte man.

The rest of the Forsytes, a Victorian English family making its way into respectable circles, has been no less dysfunctional. This isn’t as trashy as American soaps, but no less engrossing. I kept trying to avoid it, but avoiding hasn’t worked. Series 2 starts in February, right after PBS finishes re-broadcasting Series 1; Series 2 is where the Forsytes’ messiness in love and hate continues into the 20th century. I’d recommend it, especially if you don’t mind watching sumptuous historical pieces mixed with intense emotional stuff and classy British accents.

Dean, Lobotomized

I saw snipits of that interview. Shocked to see Dr. Steinberg (aka the Mrs. Dean). Diane Sawyer made the same point I did and I think it’s totally appropriate:

“Dr. Judith Steinberg, M.D., explained that she stays at home because she has her own private practice and my patients are my patients and they really depend on me and I really love it. It’s not something I can say, “Oh, you can take over for a month.” It just doesn’t work like that.”

Sorry, doc, but it does work like that. Your hubby is interviewing for the biggest job in the country, arguably the whole world, President of the United States of America. Guess what your job is? Not Doctor, it’s First Lady.

I think Dean is sunk. He hasn’t recovered from losing Iowa. Now he could pull second in Hampshire which would float him for a while but I think Edwards and Clark are going to be the voter’s favored choice over Dean. Not sure whether Kerry is going to end up being the winner at the end of the race. I don’t think he can beat Bush. I’m pulling for Clark now but the numbers don’t look good for him. Dean will end up being like what Senator McCain was in 2000. Everything but the winner of his party’s nominee for President.

=YC

The Anti-Diva (New York Times Magazine)

Deep into the end of the article, the writer mentions that Nora Jones is the out-of-wedlock daughter of Indian sitar master Ravi Shankar. Who knew? Other fan websites actually say that Jones and Shankar have a good relationship, but they prefer to keep it private. I think that it is a good thing that she doesn’t make a big deal about that connection. I agree with her that it doesn’t matter about one’s family background or connections, but that one’s work has to stand on its own.

“Star Trek: Enterprise” – last week, I noted that I’m still looking for more from the series. This week’s episode, “Proving Ground,” seemed just a bit closer to the “more” – although, I’m still not sure how to articulate what this “more” is. Commander Shran of the blue Andorian aliens arrives to help Captain Archer and the Enterprise crew in getting info on the Xindi weapon. Shran, played by actor Jeffrey Combs, was quite good; he’s conflicted by his genuine interest in helping and respecting the humans and yet is obligated toward the Andorians’ own interest to get the weapon for themselves.

Combs is a recurring Star Trek actor, most well-known as the villainous and slimy Weyoun of “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.” He’s so convincing as Shran, someone you’d like to trust but know that you can’t. I got into it by yelling at the tv, “Archer, don’t listen to him; he’s Weyoun in a prior life and he hasn’t exactly been that trustworthy with you in the past two seasons anyway!” Archer, played by Scott Bakula, still needs work – I may never know if it’s because of the line reading or the script writing (without stronger writing, even Bakula, who has been a better actor in the past, can’t milk all that much). More Shran/Combs please!

Captain Kangeroo, aka Bob Keeshan (who I most remember as the host of the CBS Saturday morning Storytime show), has passed away. Yahoo.com – why are they posting a picture of Keeshan and Howard Dean? (besides the fact that Keeshan’s home was in Vermont; there were probably other heartwarming pictures of Keeshan to show). Anyway, the point is, Keeshan is a sad loss, much like with the passing of Fred Rogers. What are kids watching these days without such figures? They are missed.

“Brooklyn Nets”? For real? I don’t know what to make of it; while it’s great to see Brooklyn get revitalized (and unfortunate that Newark hasn’t been able to do it), I feel for those people whose homes are going to have to be put out of the way unless the designs and plans get tweaked. I’m not necessarily anti-development, but I’m hardly pro-development either.

Bacon taste testing in the NY Times! Bacon is good, even if I am one of those people who’d look for the least fatty one in the supermarket.

Slate.com has a good article on the real story behind “Cheaper by the Dozen.” (I liked the original movie; the original book was also good; not touching the current movie).

Slate.com’s Michael Kinsley says he has figured out what “Compassionate Conservative” means. Hmm. The article’s worth a look just to help one figure it out.

Last night’s “Angel” on WB – quite good. Angel and Spike, Spike and Angel – two vampires with souls who may or may not have destinies to fulfill. In last night’s episode, Spike’s on a path that paralleled Angel’s path of four years ago when Angel began the path of the champion in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, Angel’s feeling sicker and sicker (literally) over whether he’s looking less like a champion and losing meaning in his work. Yet, who’s playing conquer and divide between Spike and Angel? Are the Powers That Be still involved and who are Wolfram and Hart’s Senior Partners? Who is good, who is evil, and what does it mean when you’re in the gray? Is it okay to be in a blurry world, or better for things to remain strictly black and white? Will Team Angel figure it out, before they get sucked into oblivion??? And, oh yeah, the classic take on a favorite favorite sci-fi/fantasy plotline, wherein parasite suck one’s mind. Kudos. You can never get away from parasites.

In the middle of all this, the “Angel” episode (directed by Angel star himself, David Boreanez) injected some good humor. Angel’s dream sequences are remarkable (good dream sequences are always hard to beat – funny yet filled with Freudian analyses type of questions). There was one moment that made one wish that the producers had been able to get Sarah Michelle Gellar back as Buffy, but what they did instead was funny enough (her voice and a blonde stand-in would have to do, apparently; it seemed like Angel and Spike were going to have to take that as it was).

Earlier this week, in a review in the NY Daily News, tv critic David Bianculli thought “American Idol” was still as good a watch as ever – although he seemed to think that judges Randy Jackson and Paula Abdul seemed meaner than they have in the past, he pointed out that the contestants haven’t exactly made it any easier. Simon Cowell thought an immigrant contestant couldn’t have even won “Kosovo Idol.” Randy and Simon snickered like junior high school boys at a bunch of losers when they were left to judge with Paula gone. Too many contestants had serious tin ears, refusing to acknowledge that they so cannot sing. Did they realize that the line between karaoke (singing for one’s own pleasure, by the way) versus the big time (where, you know, you’re supposed to be serious) is not that big a blur, really?

Anyway, “American Idol” still a fun watch, especially if one likes watching people get punished (fairly or not) like this. But, it’s sometimes scary or hard to watch – when the sore losers get too sore and then I get to feel the voyeur for listening to them rant about Simon or the other judges; when the sore loser then causes a tortious assault (you know, the kind the tort law professors would teach) on Simon (throwing water at Simon); and so on – it almost makes me wince. The Chinese guy in Houston, who aimed to be the Hong Kong flavor of the “American Idol” – umm, okay – so he forgot that one needed actual talent, not just a desire, to be on tv. I figured some contestants were intentionally bad, to get on television; but, it’s hard to tell sometimes. It should get more interesting when the good singers come on.

Wait, You’re Not Chinese?

May 30, 2002
By PARI CHANG

I RECENTLY married and took my husband’s name: Chang. I am
white and I am Jewish and now I am Chinese – at least on
paper. I grew up on 1970’s feminism; I went to law school,
became a professional, and always imagined I would keep my
birth name to celebrate my selfhood. Yet when I married a
Chinese man, I realized that I could support our marriage
best by changing my name to his.

Hyphenation was an option, but hyphenated names often
create a cumbersome jingle. In my case, Berk-Chang. It
sounded like a stomach ailment (“I’ve been in the bathroom
all night with the Berk-Changs”). I thought of keeping my
birth name but did not want the burden of repeatedly
explaining, “My husband is Chinese, you know.” As my
wedding day approached, I decided to take Chang as my last
name and, by adding “Asian” to “woman” and “Jew,” represent
three groups at once.

People sometimes take offense when they discover that I am
not Chinese, as if I were engaged in a form of false
advertising. Friends recalled the “Seinfeld” episode in
which Jerry speaks to a woman named Donna Chang after
dialing a wrong number, asks her out and is disappointed to
find she is a white woman from Long Island. She had
shortened her name from Changstein.

When a group of women friends from out of town unexpectedly
visited me in Manhattan, I called a popular Chinese
restaurant and asked if it could possibly seat eight people
that evening. “You need to call further in advance for a
party that large,” the hostess told me. “I have only 11
p.m.” I asked to be put on the waiting list and gave her my
name. Then I heard the rustling of pages. “Well,” she said,
“I could squeeze you in at 8:30.”

When we arrived, I announced my name. “Chang party? You’re
the Changs?” the hostess said. I imagined her in front of a
mirror, rearranging an awkward ensemble. Open the button?
No. Belt it? Still wrong. “That’s us,” I said. I felt
guilty as she begrudgingly led us to our table, but what
are we Donna Changsteins of the world to do? Should I have
interjected on the telephone that afternoon, “Incidentally,
ma’am, I am not Chinese – but my husband is”?

I also unwittingly confused the personnel department at the
law firm where I practiced at the time of my wedding. After
I notified it that I had changed my name from Pari Berk to
Pari Chang, a switch was made in the company directory and
on my office door. I quickly learned that this meant the
assumption of a completely new professional identity. I
received the following e-mail message from a work friend
the next day:

1. Who the heck is Pari Chang?

2. Does she count in the firm’s minority statistics for
recruitment purposes?

3. Do the Asian attorneys now view her as competition for
the partnership?

During recruitment season, people in the personnel
department, not having met me, must have assumed I was
Asian, and asked me to interview anyone who was of Asian
descent. No doubt some of the candidates I interviewed were
perplexed. I noticed a few sidelong glances that suggested
“Is she half?” I steered the conversation toward the tired
matter of balancing a legal career with a personal life so
that I might interject that I was recently married and
offer a clue to the mystery of a white girl named Chang.

I do not blame people for assuming that I am Chinese – my
name is Chang; it is a fair assumption. Responses sometimes
go beyond surprise, however. Acquaintances often boldly
announce their approval of Geoffrey as my husband. “I think
it’s wonderful,” they comment. Then they add that he is
handsome and “so tall!” Those of the more boorish variety
shout, “Pari Chang!” when they see me, as though my name
were some kind of verbal high-five.

As time passes, I feel emboldened by my new identity.
Losing my birth name, ironically, has been for me a matter
of self-definition. I am tickled by the irony of having
made a modern decision by doing the most traditional of all
things wifely: taking my husband’s name.

We were lucky, because both sets of parents approved. They
met for the first time before the wedding at an authentic
Chinese restaurant chosen by Geoffrey’s dad. My dad thought
he would wow them with his affinity for moo shoo chicken,
his confidence in the wisdom of fortune cookies. My mom
asked me if Geoffrey’s parents were aware that Jews love
Chinese food. But I couldn’t help wondering what my father
would say if the duck was presented with its neck intact.
He is a steak-and-potatoes man, a Hebrew Tony Soprano
without the mob, owner of a wholesale meat business in
Brooklyn. Geoffrey’s dad, Julius, is a physicist.

At first, my dad spoke slowly and clearly when addressing
Julius. Had I not popped a sedative before dinner, I might
have snapped, “Dad, he speaks English.” (Geoffrey’s father
moved to the United States in the 1950’s.) My parents
relaxed as Julius told stories of his teenage years around
the Jewish neighborhood in Skokie, Ill., where he went to
high school. They even tasted the whole-fish soup with
enthusiasm. We drank wine and discussed pop culture,
gossiped about celebrities.

“So, who is Chinese in Hollywood?” my father suddenly
blurted. “What about Mista Miyagi, from `Karate Kid’ – is
he Chinese?”

Julius, bless him, answered my dad with grace. “Miyagi?
Japanese.”

“Oh! How about Odd Job, from James Bond – is he Chinese?”

“Odd Job? Supposed to be Korean, but it’s a Japanese
actor.”

In his unorthodox way, my dear father was trying to cozy up
and learn. Julius knew this; he could feel the effort at
connection beneath the impropriety. In fact, both of my
parents and my extended family have welcomed Geoffrey (and
embraced my decision to change my name) – and vice versa.

Still, they try to weave tapestries from stray threads. It
so happens that Geoffrey’s first cousins are half Jewish.
Their name is Gottlieb. My grandmother, during our Sunday
telephone chats, never fails to ask, “And the Gottliebs,
how are they?” The Gottliebs, Grandma, are agnostic. “Doing
well,” I tell her.

The Chinese are not unlike us, my family likes to say. They
joke that Chinese and Jewish women both play mah-jongg. And
they think of Chinese and Jewish families as close-knit.
Don’t they both value good educations and have children who
are diligent students, superstars at math?

When Geoffrey laughs, his eyes are smiling moons. When he
sleeps, his lashes are like caterpillar legs, straight and
stiff. I hope our children will have caterpillar-moon eyes
and will know Jewish culture.

We had a Chinese banquet for a rehearsal dinner, and a
rabbi officiated at our wedding. We live on a continuum,
hovering between East and West. I took Chang as my name to
honor this blend, and our choices.

http://www.nytimes.com/2002/05/30/fashion/30CLOS.html?ex=1023963532&ei=1&en=3298f90b59efbff6

Some weird trademark case involving the NY Mets; apparently this British meteorological group called “The Met Office” wasn’t happy about the British Patent Office (BTO) letting the NY Mets register the NY Mets logo in Britain. But, as the article indicated, BTO just didn’t see any likelihood of confusion (a real popular phrase, as I recalled from my trademarks class); seriously, who’d be confused that either group is associated with the other? Their logos are different, their line of businesses are different (unless you mean to tell me that a bunch of British meteorologists play baseball? right…), and even their geographical bases are different (NY v. London; the battle of the metropolises…).

Plus, as the article indicated, lots of other places/groups use “Met” in their name or nickname. There’s the London Metropolitan Police Force (aka Scotland Yard; methinks that “The Met Office” won’t want to mess with those chaps) and there’s the NY Metropolitan Opera. The article also forgot to mention NY’s Metropolitan Museum of Art (also called “The Met”; or, at least I admit to calling it that from time to time). So, for now, Mr. Met can walk around London with his head safely on his shoulders (and I don’t necessarily mean figuratively either, considering how wobbly looking the mascot’s baseball head is).

Travelocity.com has an amusing ad campaign in both print and tv forms. The little garden ceramic gnome is anthropomorphized in photographs about his vacation. His name is Bill and he’s sending postcards or photos home about his enjoying a Jacuzzi; luge; and assorted other activities. He has a cute little British accent and gently reminds us not to leave our hats home. He reminded me of the gnome from “The Full Monty” (wherein the lads accidentally broke the ceramic gnome of the recently-laid off middle manager whilst playing with it; thus probably explaining Bill’s accent). Very nice touch on Travelocity.com’s part. Nothing too abrasive and stays on point. Ironically, though, the local WB channel (WPIX Ch. 11) had an human interest news item awhile back about how this middle American family were upset that someone stole their ceramic gnome, who looked an awful lot like Travelocity’s Bill. Hmm…

Howard Dean’s outburst/ranting/raving/whatever you want to call it – it just seems to have a life of its own, considering how the local tabloids (NY Post and NY Daily News) have portrayed it and how the jokes are made about it. I mean, geez, the Daily News even had psychologists analyze the whole thing. More hmm. (I better stop with the hmm’s before I start sounding like Marge Simpson).

NY Times and Slate.com had contrasting takes on the Democratic response to the State of the Union address. I thought the Slate.com one was funnier (although, I’m still not sure if that was the intent; butWalter Saletan’s critique of Nancy Pelosi was amusing anyway). From what I saw of the Democratic response, I thought the duo presentation of the response made for jarring tv. Just pick one speaker and go with it; why have two? Daschle seemed more preferable (he is, after all, Senate minority leader who’s been a leader longer than Pelosi has, and he seemed better at critiquing while trying to still be good old loyal opposition without being total firebrand; Pelosi has some ways to go – made me miss Gephardt). Duo speakers aren’t the greatest of things. I felt the same way back when the Republicans had Sen. Frist and a woman GOP senator do a duo response to Clinton’s State of the Union (although, in that case, I thought both Frist and his colleague seemed very plastic).

Happy Lunar New Year….