Monday, February 26, 2018
I
had lunch with Mossad Moshe and, as a compromise between his Middle
Eastern background and my Eastern European background, we went to
Patsy's Pizzeria, 61 West 74th Street. Their thin, crispy pies are
baked in coal-fired ovens. We shared a $21 large
pie, adding sausage $3.95, mushrooms $2.75, and mixed fresh roasted
peppers $2.75. A little pricey, but just about worth it. However, the
menu contains a very unfriendly and unwarranted entry -- Diet Coke (or
other sodas) $2.75 "No Refills." And it's not like you get a liter or a
quart or whichever comes first for that price, rather a 12 ounce glass,
half filled with ice, hardly a rarity in the winter. It makes you feel
like a tourist.
. . .
. . .
The United States Citizenship and Immigration Services has stopped describing America as "a nation of immigrants."
I'll
venture to guess that this would meet the approval of my ancestors
Running Bear and Hiawatha Goldenberg and Red Wolf and Pocahontas
Gotthelf.
Note that the United
States Citizenship and Immigration Services used to be known as the
Immigration and Naturalization Service, familiarly INS. Today, it is
more appropriately OUTS.
. . .
I am trying to not be chauvinistic when looking at a recent survey of urban commuting. https://www.realtor.com/news/
- Average commute time for drivers, carpoolers, and public transportation riders
- Average number of hours spent in traffic congestion
- Percentage of roads in “good” or “fair” condition
- Percentage of bridges that are “structurally deficient”
The
Holy Land came in worst with an average commute time of 35.9 minutes.
This trailed even automobile-saturated Los Angeles, and cities with
minor league public transportation systems, such as Seattle whose single
tram line has 16 stops. I can't see how a meaningful comparison can be
made between cities dependent on private automobiles and here, where 5,655,755 people go through a subway turnstile every day (2016 figures). How about the time wasted looking for a parking space? And the expense?
There
is also the mental health consideration. Would you feel safe around
someone who drives his car into Manhattan on weekdays?
By the way, a particularly colorful view of New York commuting patterns may be found at https://www.citylab.com/transp
Tuesday, February 26, 2018
I
think that the president was misunderstood when he said that he would
have rushed into Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School even unarmed.
Only if, only if he was wearing his orthopedic shoes.
. . .
The
Year of the Dog keeps barking along and I was joined by Dean Alfange
and Tom Terrific in celebrating at Wo Hop, 17 Mott Street, the cathedral
of classic Chinatown Chinese cuisine. We shared duck chow fun (a steal
at $7.75), beef with scallions ($14.25) and shrimp with lobster sauce
over shrimp fried rice ($14.25, not on the menu, but served on request).
These two gentile men not only enjoyed the food, as I was confident they would, but each other's company, as I also expected.
. . .
With the death of Billy Graham, the devil worship of his son Franklin Graham is gaining some attention. According to the New York Times, Franklin Graham "said
the media has lied about Mr. Trump, but when asked whether Mr. Trump
has told any lies, he said, 'I don’t know of any.'” He was immediately
approached by several cognitive scientists. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
In
my quest for the near-perfect confection, I have found a new version of
the chocolate-covered pretzel -- Asher's Dark Chocolate Pretzel Bites, 6.25 ozs. for $4.99 ($12.77 per
pound), sold at Fairway Market. These are short, straight pretzel
sticks, slightly over one inch long, enrobed in real dark chocolate.
The amount of salt per pretzel was somewhat inconsistent (I lean towards
more), otherwise a good treat.
Another good treat is hamantaschen, the triangular, fruit-filled cookie symbolic of Purim, the holiday beginning tonight. https://www.myjewishlearning.
Note
that while some pedants will remind us that hamantaschen are more than
one hamantasch, cool guys will simply ask for hamantaschen, which I do
all year round. However, as devoted as I am to chocolate in general, I
resist the use of chocolate as a filling for hamantaschen. In the
beginning, there was mohn (poppy seeds) and lekvar (prune butter). The
Age of Enlightenment brought apricot and raspberry preserve fillings.
And there it should properly rest.
Friday, March 2, 2018
We were preparing for Hurricane Boaz (our 10-year old grandson) visiting us this weekend, but a genuine nor'easter disrupted most modes of transportation and kept him at home. We have rescheduled for next weekend. Until then, enjoy this brilliant piece contributed by Paul Hecht:A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.
A bar was walked into by the passive voice.
An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.
Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”
A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.
Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.
A question mark walks into a bar?
A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.
Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Get out -- we don't serve your type."
A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.
A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.
Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.
A synonym strolls into a tavern.
At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar -- fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.
A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.
Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.
A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.
An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.
The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.
A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned a man with a glass eye named Ralph.
The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.
A dyslexic walks into a bra.
A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.
An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television getting drunk and smoking cigars.
A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.
A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.
A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony.
Delighted to get a mention. The piece is a forward from my friend Joyce R. Haman was my first role in Cheder in Hampstead Cheder (london). Always the bad guy
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