Barometric Courage (A Rant)

When the barometer drops, so does our courage.

Boston was not hit hard, yet the "courageous" leaders saw fit to cancel just about everything.  Schools were empty, the financial district was a ghost town, and subways and buses were yarded.  This criticism extends to both private and public sectors, and to the the well-honed panic mechanisms in media who work everyone into a panic.  It was really the tsunami in Japan that made me realize that we are collectively, not the group we thought we were (or say we are).  As individuals, we may be resilient and self-reliant, but as a group, we are panicky dooms-dayers.  After the tsunami, the citizens of Japan pulled together and self-governed in the way that we wished we were capable of, and it was then that I realized that we were in denial.

The financial sectors in my city shut down as did most retail.  Yesterday, it was only the new citizens who had the backbone to open their businesses and to keep the gears of industry turning.  People who started businesses against all odds and oceans and green-card red-tape were standing behind their counters, ringing cash registers, etc., while the MBA's from the "best schools" cowered at home hoping that Skippy's treehouse would survive the wind and debris, and that their ESPN feed would not cut out.

We did not keep calm and did not carry on.  Commerce halted and our fragile spirits quivered.  Children were kept inside parked in front of televisions and parents called one another to foment panic and anxiety.  Don't wait for the city or town to clear the downed tree.  Don't wait for the cavalry or for Superman or for someone else.  Pull it together, organize your crumpled neighbors and get things moving again.  Take your ax  chainsaw, two-way radios, canoe, water filters, and anything else you have and put it to immediate use.  And for God's sake, save the generators for those who have medical needs requiring electricity, not for your damn coffee maker.  Unfortunately, communities often discourage self-reliance with radio and television telling us that it's too cold/wet/hot/humid/windy/dangerous/whatever to go outside.  If we're outside, we can't be in front of the TV or radio, and we will realize that it's never as bad as we are told.

There are plenty of people for whom the storm did much damage and do need a hand.  There is a reason that the early colonists didn't build their houses on the beach.

***UPDATE***

I had a conversation with a friend over at FEMA and one at NYC Transit.  They shed some light on it in a way I hadn't considered.  One told me that his theory was that people (governments and private sector) not actually in danger (Boston during the Hurricane) feel collectively left out of the action and want to feel like they are involved in either suffering or saving.  I think he's right.  Why spend time worrying about others and possibly feeling helpless or guilty from one's own inaction when you can trump up your own involvement to the point where you feel justified not assisting others?  Once again, the theme of selfishness and narcissistic obsession seems to explain plenty.  New Jersey and NYC are pretty screwed and need help immediately.  Many will need clothing as winter is arriving shortly.

East Coasting Southward

A benefit for the (sadly underfunded) Boston Mounted Police held in Hamilton, Mass.  Too rainy for an actual game of polo, but the youngsters were allowed to crack the balls around.

---

In a federal office, a painting depicts a Cold War building.  When I looked closer, I saw a charming 

(and unlikely) detail.

---

 In Topsfield, the blue ribbon went to this picturesque little bonsai.

The train ride to New York City was fast, but the obnoxious cellphone conference calls were all around me.  In the city, I stumbled across this group while working my way in and out of the
spots on West 44th.

A college friend (and bourbon-pushing host) has keys to Gramercy Park.  He took me through and gave me the last three years of gossip concerning the politics of the place.  Fascinating.

A lunch with (The Trad) Tin-Tin, who served great wine and great food.  He was as much the gentleman as I had imagined.  Sharp wit, attentive host, and an all-around fun guy.

---

At Penn Station, I saw this Anglo-clad gent waiting his train as well.

A heavy new jacket, gift from Plum.  Thick and thorn-proof and warm beyond reason.  He took me in and out of some excellent restaurants near Clinton Hill.  I like bars and restaurants that offer very little choice.  Gigantic menus are a turn-off for me, and I often leave the choices to the server or the chef.



Bartenders are always put off when I order "something to drink" but refuse to specify even the category.  "Beer?  Wine?  Liquor?  Sir, you have to narrow it down."  Since I like nearly everything, I'm easy.  "You're the professional" I tell them, "I'd like something to drink".

We Americans have too much choice, and we limit the richness of our experiences by constantly customizing our food and drink environments.  Next time you're in a restaurant, order "something to drink and something to eat" and see what they bring you.  Sure, they'll protest at first, but you'll be better for the experience.

In DC now, en route to New Orleans for dinner at the dress code mandated Galatoires.  

GQ

JMW lead the charge on this one, and I thank her for getting the ball rolling.


I have received tons of emails about the GQ article naming Boston as the worst dressed city in America.  As someone who spouts about men's clothing on a regular basis, I was excited to read the article, but was supremely disappointed by it.  The entire bit seemed to be composed by a group of deadline-desperate staffers as if they were in a car en route to pitch the draft to their editor, complete with anecdotes of go-to caricatures of each city (Seattle is NOT full of flannel or plaid as GQ claims).  The piece simply lists major cities with whatever grab-bag cliche the staffers could generate.  When misguided and patently false claims were structured in, the readers were subjected to a compilation of cheap and smug snark that was obviously being peddled as wit and "scathing analysis", though it contained none.  Well-dressed San Francisco, Manhattan, and Philadelphia were laughably listed in their "countdown" as well.

Thompson says about Boston:

"But Boston is the epicenter of prep style!," you say? That's true, but it's with a little extra that ends up ruining everything: Khakis!—with pleats. Boat shoes!—with socks. Knit ties!—actually, no one in Boston seems to have ever seen one of these.


Thompson lists Bostonians wearing "knit ties" as evidence of poor taste, then scolds Bostonians for never having seen a knit tie.

I like distasteful humor, I like mockery, and I also like mean spirited japes from time to time... God knows I truly adore sophomoric humor, but contributor John B. Thompson brought the already weak writing to an unforgivable level when he then took the cheapest shot at a soft target, riffing off of people with Down Syndrome (a sentence that was quietly removed online from GQ.com).  This was not bravery in the face of eye-rolling and annoying political correctness, and I disagree with those who deemed the language merely as "insensitive".  Certain insensitivity is important in our culture and a very real component to style and to markets in general, but cheap opportunism from a clearly leveraged position is literary profiteering, and that is what GQ is guilty of.

This article was the straw that broke the camelback for our office, and the subscription has now lapsed.

Luckily, they are barely credible at this point in general, but I ask you, Dear Reader, what the "G" in GQ now stands for?    It comes out monthly, so the "Q" is also no longer accurate.