Broke at Saddleback

I realize Obama cannot be all things to all people. But he’s trying to be. What else is the purpose of pandering to people you say have views that are “entirely contrary to mine”? Abortion is one thing: most sane people can reasonably agree that abortions are unpleasant, and should be rare. We can then come together to thrash out how to keep them rare, without taking away people’s rights to their own bodies. Here, there is “room for dialogue”. On the other hand, where is the room for dialogue with someone, when that someone is equating your entire identity with that of a pedophile or an animal-poker? It’s not that different from garden-variety bigotry; the same bigotry that was marginalized by laws and attitudes that made Obama president-elect.

Accordingly, here is the transcript of an email I wrote to David Plouffe, Obama’s campaign manager (not that I hold any hopes of it ever being read, but at least I got it off my chest). I was especially pleased to have called Mr Obama’s belief system “mumbo-jumbo”, but kept it polite by saying “thanks”. Thanks for nothing, asshole.

Hi

I am an Obama supporter and contributor.

I understand his statement that there should be "room for dialogue" on abortion, even though I am staunchly pro-choice.

But I do NOT understand how there could possibly be room for dialogue on explicit bigotry towards gays, as Mr Warren has demonstrated with his repeated statements and emails. There are other ways to engage Mr Warren's work on AIDS and poverty. Having him perform the invocation at the inauguration legitimizes his entire work, not just the good parts of it. If Mr Obama must have religious mumbo-jumbo at his inauguration, there are other, more inclusive, priests and denominations.

I am tremendously disappointed by this pandering. I do not intend to contribute any more of my time and money towards Mr Obama's "campaign for change".

Thanks

Helloo Nadia!

As part of our 5th anniversary celebs, we are returning to the place where A and I had our first serious serious date. As everybody knows, we met on match.com the week before Thanksgiving, 2003. After IM'ing a back and forth over a few days, days during which A's "space" key was spacing out -utter hilarity of the nerdly kind ensued- we met for coffee at Michelangelo's, on State St. Although it was not planned, we ended up going to La Paella (since deceased) for dinner. And then, just to show you what nerds can do when they get their dander up, we ended the night at the Plaza Tavern, home of the most massively over-hyped burger on the planet. It was a good date.
Then, on the weekend following Thanksgiving, I took her on a proper date, the details of which escape me; but we ended the night at Nadia's, me drinking single malt, A sportingly putting up with my peat-infused ramblings, setting a pattern for our relationship that persists to this day.
So, it's to Nadia's that we return tonight. It's a little worrying that its last good review was in 2000, but hey. The things we do for love.

More things other people said better

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

End Times Countdown - Bush Exit Interviews

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

Got you on my maa..ind

Thanks, A. It's been a great five years. I look forward to fifty more.

As usual, someone else said it better

William Dalrymple, author of my most favorite book on Delhi, author of many other fantastic books on India and travel, doubly beloved to me because I had a brief and pleasant email exchange with him once (blessed are the validated, for they shall revalidate), says what I think should be said, except better.

A pox on both your houses

I agree with Ahmed Rashid (click on ListenNow) that it was not in the Pakistan government's interest to have been involved in the Bombay attacks (yes, to me, it will always be Bombay, meri jaan). It's also quite true that chances are better than even that the terrorists who struck in Bombay had something to do with Pakistan, in the same way some of the 9/11 pilots had something to do with Saudi Arabia. If the Indian government wants to point fingers at Pakistan, it should do so without making mealy-mouthed statements and veiled implications, and prove its case; if not, then it should find a way to work with Pakistan in an open and honest way that isolates terrorists. Why is it not obvious to the leaders of both countries, in the way that it's obvious to everyone else, that they are both in a terrible situation, security-wise, and the only way to head towards a more secure environment is to cooperate, militarily and economically?

One more reason

Part of the reason why I started getting uncomfortable with food blogging is here.
By the way, anyone else enjoying The Daily Beast? (He asks his world-wide audience.)

We have found the enemy, and he is us

We watched the Frontline on Lee Atwater yesterday. Inasmuch as it was somewhat discomfiting to see the phrase "I hope you die in pain" play out in real life, I'd like to point out an obvious fact (as is my wont; a much loved and heavily bearded schoolteacher once called me a "Master of the Obvious"): the problem with Lee Atwater scaring the public with black rapists and mental illness is not Lee Atwater, it's the public.
And while I agree that the issue is a little more complicated, in that a leader (or a TV ad, apparently), has the ability to appeal to best or worst in us, I believe that these sides of our personalities are not independent beings. We still retain the ability to consider what's being told to us, after all. It would be nice -and really different- if an otherwise great documentary series like Frontline was less coy about who bears the ultimate responsibility for letting Willie Horton in 1988, Rove's "McCain has an illegitimate black child" rumor in 2000, or "Obama is a Muslim" this year become issues, and what that really says about our society.

Something for something

Attorney Adorable and Wonder Boy treated us to lunch at the Brasserie today, capping a week in which we had a huge turn-out for Monday Night Squash (a.k.a Vilas Dads Beer Group), elected a new president on Tuesday, celebrated A's birthday on Wednesday, played squash with The Boy (as usual) on Thursday, supped with The Fam on Friday, and pretty much napped all day on Saturday, before ordering out from Bandung last night (see previous post).
We ate at Lombardino's for A's birthday. As usual, a high quality meal; I had a half-portion of the "Straw and hay" pasta, notable for the slow-cooked chicken deliciousness, followed by a "Beef and Brussels" steak on polenta which was downright sinful. I should say I actually wanted the Cobia again, but decided to work my way down the list instead - with happy results. A had the "Tortelloni ala Bolognese", which was a two-thumbs-up-way-up situation, as I understand. Now the truly pleasant surprise, in all this, was actually how good the "wine special" Chianti Classico was; I had had it last week when we had our "family date night" (also the Night of the Cobia), and it was still good.
A's Mom made a so-called "lamb o' leg" on Friday; this one was off the rack, so to speak, in that it was ready to stick into the oven from Trader Joe's. Very nice. TJ's is a place which has made its name in surprises, both pleasant and unpleasant. In that if you're out of ideas, you can get some really good stuff there; but if you're looking for something specific, you best not waste time trawling the aisles hopelessly.
Thanks, AA and WB! We enjoyed our sandwiches - and of course your company - a lot. Enough that we are eating only steamed broccoli for dinner.

I Love My Indonesia!

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, Stewy the Stewart brought this to my notice


For the cognoscenti, the frowny dude in the beginning is also the dude who played "Mogambo".
Anyway, A and I have been eating take outs from the Indonesian restaurant Bandung.... it's only been here over 15 years, why wasn't I told!

I finally caved today

and bought one more product from Mr Jobs - it's a thing of beauty, what can I say; I bought it for the artistic value - and then I read this. Thanks, Pogue! You did your best, but I don't care.

Ah, the mtrfxing 80s!

The Dwag is fuzzy, so when A goes to work, he generously gives her some of himself to remember him by, mainly by plastering it all over her clothes.
The phenomenon is best described in a song that is a living symbol of a decade filled with wretched music. Check the subtitles.

ADDED: I only bring this up to confess that we showed this exercise in (what the good Sam has called) jack-assery to The Boy, who - predictably - enjoyed it ultra plus.

The obligatory election post

Some day, when they're done bailing like a right wing nerd-herd, Republicans will look back on this election and thank Sarah Palin for a vacation from D.C..
While of course most of the reasons the McCain campaign is failing are to do with things other than Sarah Palin, what crystallized the narrative, in peoples minds, of McCain as an impulsive man with no real plan was the SNL episode in which Tina Fey played Palin being interviewed by Katie Couric, and ran the Straight Talk Express right off the bridge.
Now I don't mean that they will thank her for ruining The Original Maverick's run. Perhaps, though, they might use the vacation to tone down some of their more hateful rhetoric, such as against immigrants, gays, and France. This, in turn, might let some people currently too embarrassed to associate themselves with a party of selfish, medieval, incompetent jerk-offs look respectable on the way the voting booth, again. And they will have nobody to thank for that vacation but Sarah Palin. Or rather, Tina Fey playing Sarah Palin.

Anyone for tennis?

After a gap of close to 20 years – I think it was Becker v. Edberg in 1990 – I watched tennis again. At this point, it’s common knowledge that the men’s final, Federer v. Nadal, was long (close to 5 hours), intense, and arguably the best Wimbledon final ever played. I agree with those who would argue the latter.

My disdain for professional sports is no secret. When I try to locate the source of the bile, I end up in Lake Psychobabble. On top of that, my inconsistency on the subject – I make an exception for cricket, but only Indian cricket, not Twenty20; I follow Packers’ game results, but think it’s a barbaric game which has sold its soul (if it ever had any) to television commercials- although I have no such compunctions about Rugby, which I don’t watch, or follow, or have any interest in - is exasperating (to say the least), even to me. All of this is most unsatisfactory. In general, though, I’ve managed to sort out a couple of reasons why I don’t like watching sports, or following them to any great extent.

Reason Number One is the disproportionate bigness of the deal, a.k.a. the all-too-familiar “it’s only a game”. 18 years ago, as I watched Boris Becker cry and howl his way to a five set defeat, I decided (admittedly unconsciously) that there was literally no reason to watch a grown man in tiny white knickers act like a complete prat ever again.

(A variation on the theme is the calling down of the Divine Hand in favor of your team/play. What? So god watches football, and favors the frikkin Bengals (or not)? Does he also drink PBR whilst doing so?)

Reason Number Two is the entanglement of nationalist or regionalist claptrap with sport. And I think this is a big reason why I follow Indian cricket: because I can’t watch it, I can’t see the idiots in their tricolor facepaint pretending that every sixer hit by Tendulkar adds another inch to the national pizzle. Also the reason why all this talk of Minnesota or Chicago Vs Green Bay is so off-putting to me. I read relatively dispassionate accounts of cricket games on Wisden, which is just fine with me.

And those are really the reasons – I should say the absence of them- that made the match on Sunday so charming. These two excellent players, fighting as hard as they could, at the tops of their games, in excellent spirits. There seemed to be no fear of making an audacious shot at championship point; no fear of defeat, in the sense that defeat was an acceptable outcome as long as the game had been thoroughly played. No shouting and moaning at the umpires and linesmen, seared into my brain by the whiniest ninny of all, John McEnroe. There seemed to be an understanding by both players that good and bad calls are part of the game. There were challenges, sure, but all done with good grace. There was no evidence that god had favored Nadal (and/or Spain) that day, even though, the previous five years, he had seen fit to favor Federer (and/or Switzerland- but not, obviously, the people of Iraq). At the end, there were words that were genuinely gracious on part of the loser, and touching in their humility by the winner. Both seemed to understand that (and maybe I’m beginning to project here), however important this was to them, they were still having to do it wearing tiny white knickers: how important could it possibly be? Spandex (and pajamas), I’m looking at you.

Grocery bill

Last night, A and I were talking about why our grocery bills have increased about three times over last year. Of course gas prices have a role to play: but here is a list of what we've eaten for dinner over the last week or so:
Day 1: Dal, Rice; eggplant "bhartha"; palak paneer; salad. The Family Gyne (R&R, E&O) was visiting, and it was a visit filled with great food and drink, besides all the other intangible but supremely satisfying delights of having an old, valued, trusted and bald friend visit. R made the palak paneer; I now have the recipe.
Day 2: Lamb tagine (made in our new tagine), couscous, chickpeas, salad. The tagine was a gift from the Family Gyne, and R inaugurated it by making the lamb, a triumph of simplicity (in preparation) and harmony (in flavors).
Day 3: Cold cuts, breads, hummus, butter bean dip, cheeses, fruit, salads. This was A at her finest, pulling together a fabulous meal for a hot evening.
Day 4: Too full from a day of eating hot dogs, brats, cotton candy and soda at the Mallards game that The Boy and I went to, I opted for just a salad that A had thoughtfully made to cleanse our palates. The Boy ate this willingly enough while watching Fawlty Towers, but then, when it ended, plaintively asked, "Is that it for dinner?" So I ended up making him an omelet.
Day 5: Strip steak, Tuscan style, grilled medium-rare to medium on charcoal by me; A made mashed potatoes, corn, and salad. This was a smash hit with The Boy, because not only was the food to his liking, but the menu was out of Sport, a book A is currently reading to him.
Day 6: At the Brasserie V, after watching Wall-E, which all of us enjoyed, I had the Steak-Frites washed down with a couple of pints of Fuller's London Pride bitter, A had the Ricotta Gnocchi, and The Boy had the Avocado BLT without avocado, his standard order at the V.
Day 7: Rice, Dal, and cumber raita.
Day 8: Last night, while shoveling down freshly grilled jerk chicken from an excellent recipe in the NYT, accompanied by roast potatoes, rice and cucumber salad, we totted up the damage and agreed that we had literally inverted our old habit of eating simply most days and elaborately occasionally.