The Rage Diaries

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When [JetBlue] initially decided to install live satellite television systems in its Airbus A320 airplanes, JetBlue decided it wouldn't censor foul language or racy programming on cable channels like MTV or Comedy Central. And in the event of emergencies, the airline told crews to leave the live television on -- passengers could watch themselves on CNN or other news programming.

And that's exactly what happened Wednesday when Los Angeles television stations quickly picked up that JetBlue Flight 292 from Burbank, Calif., to New York had a problem with its front landing gear, which wouldn't retract.

[...]

Some industry watchers criticized JetBlue's decision to keep the television on. "Having unfettered access to footage of the aircraft, watching the preparations on the ground, listening to 'experts' talk about the vast possibilities of what could go wrong and all of the worst-case scenarios only served to raise the tension level," said Michael C. Planey, a former manager of in-flight entertainment at US Airways who is now an industry consultant.

-- "A TV View of an Airplane Crisis," WSJ, Sep 27, 05

And yet, upon reading this, I feel nauseous

Mr. Ducasse's $250 "Grand Livre," the size of two "Joys of Cooking," is printed on thick, glossy paper that looks like museum catalog stock. Spanish chef Ferran Adria's new $350 "El Bulli 1982-2002" cookbook has 500 pages of photos, 100-word capsules of the restaurant's philosophy -- and no recipes.

[...]

Publishers say they're moving to the hard-to-use cookbooks for a reason as old as beef bourguignon: They're money-makers. Though the books are costly to produce, the big-name chefs who write them have a built-in fan base willing to pay the higher prices. The mega-volumes are also eye-catching and get special display at bookstores, a big advantage since the number of cookbooks on the market is up 35% over 2001, according to publishing analysts Simba.

"Most of us don't really need any more recipes," says Stewart, Tabori & Chang publisher Leslie Stoker. "We love looking at pictures of food."

-- "The Joy of Lifting," WSJ, Sep 30, 05

How you can tell it's been a long week

Owing to the day job, I now know a lot of stock ticker symbols and often think of companies in terms of their ticker. This would explain why I write notes like "Compare Diet KO prices at SWY, ABS; check calorie count of shaken-tea lemonade at SBUX."

As we all know, I have comics on the brain and often having amusing-to-me, temporary misunderstandings about Mar-Vell Technology or the Kree or Donna Troy. But now the pathology has spread: in reading about legacy airlines and Northwest (pre-bankruptcy ticker symbol: NWA), I had a few wires cross and imagined an airline run by Dr. Dre and Ice Cube.

Naturally, NWA's headquarters would have to move from Eagan, Minnesota. It would be the first commercial airline to fly straight outta Compton.

So where have I been all my life?

The reason I've had some radio silence here at the Rage Diaries is not because I've finally achieved a state of nirvana and am no longer beset by things like rage. It's because I am dumb enough to be all, "What? Cancel a trip to Chicago a week and a half after moving 400 miles? Why ever would I consider that? I can't imagine how that would possibly strain my schedule!"

That was before I fell through the door last night and beheld: the remaining boxes we have yet to unpack, the bistro-style wine racks I have yet to mount on the wall, the wires dangling from the ceiling where the kitchen light fixture used to be (and thank God for Rejuvenation Hardware's super-fast turnaround on replacement lights is all I have to say to that) and, of course, the freaky lock situation.

We have four locking doors in the house, yet we need five keys to successfully negotiate them. If ever I should misplace my keys, I am confident that I will be able to identify any would-be thieves because they will be the ones frantically fumbling through the ring, trying to determine what the magical combination is for unlocking the door. But while I'm all for theft-deterrent home safety measures, I have to warn anyone else considering home-security-as-exercise-in-logical-deduction: the flip side to this situation is that taking out the trash is an epic pain in the tuchis.

Anyway, the Chicago trip included an afternoon in Hyde Park, wherein I nearly overdosed on exquisite architecture and gorgeous Arts & Crafts-style planters, light fixtures and windows. We went to Wrigley Field and I instantly understood the phrase "green cathedral." Then I quickly grasped the meaning of the phrase "lake effect," as the winds off Lake Michigan were fairly nippy. I also visited the family graves in Graceland, and gawked at the assorted exhibits in the Museum of Science and Industry (I really love the sliced-up people, and Colleen Moore's contention that the Fairy Folk are all practicing Catholics).

I still feel like I barely got to see any of Chicago. I love this city -- mostly because I only visit it when it's not cold. So tell me -- have you been to Chicago? What do you recommend people do there? I'm already fantasizing about going again. I'm also fantasizing about coming back to an unpacked house that only needs one or two keys to unlock too.

Where have you been all my life?

Oh, Monkeywire. Please tell me you are now franchising your wonderfully focused news approach (all monkeys, all the time) to other animals of note, such as penguins, dolphins, frogs, elephants and marsupials. Please.

But, oh, how things will change

So the NYT has an article today on the scores of bright young things who are all, "I'm going to an elite university and I have fantastic skills, brains and opportunities -- so what? I plan on chucking it all to stay home with the kids!" ("Many Women at Elite Colleges Set Path to Motherhood," NYT, Sep 20, 05)

It's worth reading, if only because you will undoubtedly remember how, as an undergraduate, you were so sure how your life was going to work out. And for this priceless passage:

[Angie] Ku added that she did not think it was a problem that women usually do most of the work raising kids.

"I accept things how they are," she said. "I don't mind the status quo. I don't see why I have to go against it."

After all, she added, those roles got her where she is.

"It worked so well for me," she said, "and I don't see in my life why it wouldn't work."

Gosh, I had never considered that ... why should anyone go against the status quo? Why can't we just accept the way things are, so long as we're still comfortable?

That hilarity aside, I'm looking forward to the follow-up article where the young men are all, "Yeah, I cannot wait to shoulder the burden of finding a steady, stable, lucrative career so I can be the sole source of income in tomorrow's American economy! I relish the challenge!"

That critical breakout point

There's a passage in William Gibson's Count Zero where the mercenary Turner is trying to figure out what's so fishy about his quarry, a defecting scientist named Christopher Mitchell. He ultimately figures it out, in what turns out to be an excellent observation on the quality that separates the merely smart from the truly genius: geniuses have a moment where they blow the curve by thinking of something that's genuinely original. They have created a new way of looking at the world which will soon become an accepted way of looking at the world. They've climbed to the top of Bloom's hierarchy of learning and used it as a launching pad to a new realm.

That distinction's stuck with me since I first read the book in college, and I thought of it again this morning when listening to and later reading about this year's collection of MacArthur Fellows. There are a lot of ways to define "creative" and "genius," but everyone under those umbrellas shares the ability to see the world from a different angle, then bring us around to their point of view. ("Placed at the Feat of Genius: $500,000," WaPo, Sep 20, 05)

Pledge A Picket

What a great idea:

Every time protesters gather outside of our Locust Street health center, our patients face verbal attacks from them. They see graphic signs meant to confuse and intimidate. They are sometimes blocked from entering the building and occasionally they are videotaped. They are offered anti-choice propaganda and free rides to the closest "crisis pregnancy center."

Staff and volunteers are also seen as targets. We are all called murderers, are lectured to about committing sins, and are told we will pay the "ultimate price" for our actions.

You can stand with others in the community against these acts of intimidation and harassment

Here's how it works: You decide on the amount you would like to pledge for each protester (minimum 10 cents). When protesters show up on our sidewalks, Planned Parenthood Southeastern Pennsylvania will count and record their number each day from October 1 through November 30, 2005. We will place a signoutside the health center that tracks pledges and makes protesters fully aware that their actions are benefiting PPSP. At the end of the two-month campaign, we will send you an update on protest activities and a pledge reminder.

It would be awesome if the Pledge-A-Picket idea spread.

Cool animal news of the day

Item one: Researchers now have photographic evidence of the fluorescent chain catshark. ("Fluorescent Shark Caught on Film," Natl Geo, Sep 7, 05) Bioluminescent predators are always cool!

(On a predator-related note: my friend Erin lent me The Devil's Teeth: A True Story of Obsession and Survival Among America's Great White Sharks this summer. Once you sift through author Susan Casey's many, many autobiographical digressions, there's some pretty fascinating stuff on the shark itself. Read it -- be prepared to skip ahead if you want to get to the good stuff about how badly orcas kick shark ass.)

Item two: More on the Oceanarium dolphins! And it's good news! A tip of the hat to my friend Kate, who hipped me to Dolphins R Us, which has updates on the eight Oceanarium dolphins presumed lost in the storm. Animal Planet's report today, "Heavy Losses at Gulf Coast Aquariums" notes that although all 14 of the dolphins are now alive and accounted for, 7 of the Oceanarium's 27 sea lions are dead or missing.

Mmm, mmmm, good reads

My mind has been on other things, so I have not yet figured out why I -- who consider cooking a sisyphean labor in the best of times -- so love reading people who write about food.

Is it the enthusiasm and passion for something so vital to our existence? I don't think so: sex is pretty necessary to the species' sustained future, but I can't read Anais Nin without nodding off. Is it the how-to aspect, with reassuring proof that these skills can lead to those results? Possibly. With one exception, that's why I like reading about remodeling, so maybe that's it.

Or is it just that I love to eat, and reading is a vicarious form of consumption? I don't know.

Anyway, Adam Gopnik wrote in April, "There are two schools of good writing about food: the mock epic and the mystical microcosmic" ("Dining Out: The Food Critic at the Table," New Yorker, April 4, 05) but I humbly submit that he's left out two more: the gently mocking and demystified how-to.

In the first category, I'd place Julie Powell, whose Julie-to-Julia project gave me such pleasure. Fortunately, someone in the NYT's food section felt likewise and has begun tapping her as its foodie skeptic. I found her earlier article "Don't Get Fresh With Me!" (July 22, 05) thought-provoking despite the West Coast slam, but today's "No Heat Doesn't Mean No Sweat" is an excellent takedown of the raw food movement. Julie is becoming the People's Chef, pointing out that fine cooking and eating can -- and should be -- divorced from class signifiers.

In the second, I'd place food webloggers I love reading. If you're not already reading these people, you need to start: mlb's Je Mange La Ville, Hannah Meehan's Hannah Cooks and Stephanie Vander Weide's The Grub Report. All of them have the ability to fill me with well-meaning, thoroughly impractical resolutions like "When I get home tonight, I will whip up a potato frittata!" as opposed to my usual M.O., which is, "When I get home, I will inhale potato chips!"