A Polish friend of mine – an academic – recently flew to the United States, and before boarding was asked by her carrier a number of security questions, including “Who is your favorite American president?” and “Who is your favorite American writer?” How wonderful if she had said:
“Thomas Jefferson – I like his line that if made to choose between a government without newspapers and newspapers without a government he wouldn’t hesitate to choose the latter. As for writers, Philip Roth – especially The Plot Against America.”
Whatever her answers, she found the questions odd, as do I, not least because most Americans, if asked similar questions before flying to almost any country, would be hard-pressed to come up with any names.
I was sorry that Toni Erdmann did not win Best Foreign Language Film, but then we wouldn't have heard the eloquent letter from Iranian director Asghar Farhadi. And I was delighted that Sing won for Best Live Action Short, but shouldn't the director's acceptance speech have been briefer than the others?
Why does the most intelligent of the late night hosts act the silliest? Colbert is guilty of the same dumbing down that got the man he mocks elected.
Twice in the last two weeks I’ve found myself eating in a restaurant and looking up from my plate to see two barefoot, bare-chested men brawling in a ring. And this was not in sports bars; it happened first in a pizza place and last night in a barbecue joint. Both times it was at an hour – around 6 o’clock – when civilized sports are hard to find on TV. But that doesn’t change the fact that for people who aren’t into MMA (and probably even some who are) the sight of two men hitting and kicking each other is not the ideal accompaniment to dinner.
We met our friend Joe at the Taste of Oakland Park Friday night. Since we’d last seen him, Joe had lost 27 pounds.
“What kind of diet are you on?” Hania asked him.
“I don’t eat anything that makes me happy.”
Friday he was calling a moratorium. After you paid your $10 entry fee, everything inside Jaco Pastorius Park was free. Local restaurants, and the culinary students of a local high school, handed out samples of pulled pork, Shepherd’s pie, pasta, lentil soup, Crepes Suzette, chips and salsa, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Funky Buddha brewery was serving two types of beer and Casa d’Angelo had a beautiful spread of Italian desserts.
Sitting in the bleachers to eat our victuals, Joe told us about his sister Laura, who lives in L.A. She had gone to the women’s march in the city with her 5-year-old daughter Aurora, after telling her that she could make her own sign, saying whatever she wished. Joe called up a photo on his phone that showed his smiling niece holding a sign that read: “I WANT CANDY.”
Newspaper restaurant critics should be made to take as dining companions the former colleagues whose layoffs help finance their meals.