Wolfman and me
Wolfman listens to the new way forward in Iraq.
Wolfman listens to the new way forward in Iraq.
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The iPhone is finally here from the company now known simply as Apple Inc. What a beauty! Too bad it’s going to be a while before it’s available in Europe. It will be time to replace my trusty old Nano when that happens.
There aren’t too many of us who did not enjoy a quick lunch or dinner of Ramen noodles either because we were in a hurry or because we were short of money.
It turns out that the creator of this wondrous food-group. Mr Momofuku Ando has died at the age of 96. There is a very nice appreciation here
Wolfman gets a New Year’s gift.
This morning’s NYT had a headline story on the Democrats taking back control of Congress. As usual, both parties made the same empty pledges of cooperation and “bipartisanship” that we always hear, but which rarely, if ever, happens. However, this time leaders of both parties used the same “pudding” metaphor, which was odd enough that the NYT even remarked on it. What was stranger to me (but perhaps not so strange after all) was that both the senators used the same incorrect version of the proverb - “The proof is in the pudding.” The correct proverb, of course, is - “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.” The latter actually makes sense, but I guess career politicians shy away from verbal constructs that have any real meaning. The proverb was first used by Cervantes in his epic work Don Quixote in which the Don’s squire, Sancho Panza, is a virtual fount of earthy wisdom, usually dispensed in the form of proverbs quoted out of context. But the sight of two senators mangling his proverb would make even good Sancho fall off his donkey.
I was going to write a longer post about this, but found the following which says it all.
http://www.boston.com/news/globe/magazine/articles/2004/02/08/a_loss_for_words/
“It’s better to write a late travelogue than none at all” - Marco Polo
Everything you’ve heard about Rio de Janeiro is true. The stunning beaches; gorgeous and friendly people; the beauty of Sugarloaf and Corcovado… all of it. My hotel was located a block away from the world famous Copacabana beach. I had arrived here right after spending two weeks touring all over Argentina with fellow blogger kinnum. For the next four weeks, I’ll be traveling alone in this vast continent. I couldn’t have chosen a better place to get rid of any traveling-companion withdrawal symptoms than Rio.
After shivering at the end of the world in Tierra del Fuego and simmering in the humid hellhole that is Iguazú Falls, the tropical climate and beaches of Rio were a welcome relief. Sure, there are historical buildings, churches, public parks, and museums to be explored. But those could wait. I hit the beaches first. This is where you encounter the Cariocas, as the residents of Rio are known, and the Brazilian bikini. Ah the bikini! The term “minimalism” was probably coined to describe this art form. This is the one type of clothing that makes gorgeous garotas look more naked than if they were really naked. Copacabana is long, lively, and lined with nightclubs and hotels. The entire stretch on the beach side is full of small bar shacks. Every one of them makes decent Caipirinhas (or Caipivodkas). I hopped from shack to shack, spending hours, watching the Cariocas play footvolley and sipping a Caipi-whatever or a Chopp (draft beer) at each stop. Bliss. Ipanema and Leblon on the other side of Forte de Copacabana are more segmented (with sections for gays, artists, surfers etc.). The Cariocas epitomize the being of laissez-faire: carefree, wanton, flirtatious, lazy. La dolce vita.
I had a very sedate(d) new year’s eve (NYE) – a radical departure from the hedonistic celebrations of years gone by. Both my wife and I (also some friends) caught a viral fever of some sort during a trip on XMAS weekend. The holiday week was spent watching movies, reading books, and lazing about, in between coughing fits that could be heard as far away as Moffett Field. The good news is that I don’t need to pop any Tylenols as is custom on New Year’s day every year.
I don’t have the energy to call those near and dear to wish them a prosperous new year. How about a blog post instead? Here’s wishing all the English speakers (and others who celebrate January 1st as the first day of the year) a happy new year.
Auld Lang Syne is the poem most associated with NYE. Originally written by that esteemed Scot, Robert Burns, it became part of the official NYE celebrations when Guy Lombardo’s band first used it in 1929. A recording from Lombardo’s band is still played during the NYE Times Square celebration in Manhattan. Burns wrote the poem in old Scots and very few people can remember even the English translation. Here’s the full English version…
(Read more…)
Wolfman wishes rantlust a Happy New Year.
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