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City Christmas

The one good thing about not having a job yet is that sometimes I get to watch Regis, which always makes me feel like I’m still in New York. The other day Regis did a video piece about Christmas in New York City at Night showing: the beautiful lit snowflake @ intersection of 57th/Fifth Avenue that leads to Tiffany’s, Bergdorf’s, Saks, Lord & Taylor Christmas window displays, Cartier store wrapped in a big red Christmas bow, Trump Tower Christmas tree hiding the waterfall, the dizzying lights of Tavern on the Green and of course, the Christmas tree and skaters at Rockefeller Center.

All of the sites Regis hit are a part of everyday New York City – anyone can enjoy them without getting tickets or waiting on lines, just walk by, view, drink in the city feeling, experience Christmas.

Here in Minneapolis there is no unifying Christmas icon where everyone can visit and feel the magic Christmas energy. The Holidazzle Parade isn’t it. Neither is the Macy’s Annual Holiday Show.



It’s like here in Minneapolis there is no Christmas season; it’s just winter. Unrelenting blustery dangerous cold cloudy darkness chilly freezing snow and ice for months and months. No visual Christmas break. I guess Minneapolis, the city, isn’t set up for it.

City life here in Minneapolis is different – no one spends time downtown unless they are earning a paycheck – don’t stay even a minute longer – don’t live there. Gotta drive back to comfy suburbs. I dunno, I guess it’s not fair of me to compare the two cities.

It’s just that ever after all this time I still can’t find what I miss about New York City here in Minneapolis. I just miss it.

Questions about ‘Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist’

This contrived romance between a poor high schooler from Hoboken and a rich catholic school girl from Englewood left me with too many questions. Do you know how far apart just in miles those two cities are? How would they have met, let alone dated for six months? Plus, the conceit that a Jewish girl, one whose dad owns Electric Lady no less, goes to that same catholic school? And she can’t make her own mix tapes? Those three catholic school girls wouldn’t be slumming it in the village or Williamsburg every weekend. And about the Village, do you really think it’s so desolate, even overnight? Where are all the NYU students, let alone real, diverse people are who share the streets, and where are all the cars, meaning specifically, parked cars? Why would those teens, number one, have driven into the city in the first place and number two, have driven in two separate cars? In real life they would have taken the Path train. How do those supposed teens always find not only parking spots, but parking spots that they can pull right into, not have to back-park or double-park? Every single time? Even midtown? Come on. Did they ever hear of a metrocard? And come on, that band got a gig in the city? And the guy was blasé about it? And nobody, absolutely nobody had an accent?

These spoiled NJ ‘bridge and tunnelers’ are unconvincing as being anywhere near actual high school age who live in a sanitized alternate universe where they roam NYC among their own pack, mixing with no others. How dare this flick encourage female abandonment not once but twice? And considering the driving plot point was to find some band but not Norah’s drunk girlfriend, the misplaced tension was annoying. Why did I care about where drunk girl will end up more than her bff did? This movie has a desperately needed makeover moment for the lead girl, but why would the guys conveniently have had a stash of girls’ underwear in their van? Since when does being gay = cross dressers?

The best line, which was said by likeable Michael Cera, “This is not a cab, my friend, I assure you.” was spent in the trailer. And no one is drunk enough to think that yellow mess of a car might be a cab.

The only piece of this movie that rang true was the lead character’s sincere angst suffering the pain of his broken heart, down to his giving in to the temptation of reconnecting with his former girlfriend at the expense of a possible new connection. Too bad this story didn’t stick to real emotions like that instead of trying to create a teen reality that isn’t.

Where in the world is Gaza?

Thank you, Katie Couric, for showing us that Gov. Sarah Palin does not know who Hamas is, let alone Fatah, nor does Palin know where Gaza is or its significance in the political or real world.

We Americans shouldn’t be surprised that Palin is so stupid because being a U.S. Governor doesn’t necessarily suggest that you are intelligent. Best example: former Minnesota Governor Jesse “The Body” Ventura.

But the stakes are higher for the presidency – don’t the American people get that? You can’t cram the intelligence necessary to fill someone in on the complexities of the West Bank (and I’m not talking about at the University of Minnesota campus) in a Schoolhouse Rock-ish boot camp. At her age either you know stuff or you don’t.

Senators McCain, Obama and Biden are all well versed in the political facts of the world; Gov. Palin isn’t. How dare McCain pull a stunt like this on our country, offering such an imbecile as a potential leader of the free world, our country, just so he has one last chance at obtaining his personal brass ring.

Paul Newman, humanitarian

A family story of ours is that Paul Newman liked to drink beer so much that he kept a beer can opener around his neck on a chain. My dad got to meet Paul Newman through my dad's army buddy, the actor Rip Torn, when both Rip Torn and Paul Newman were starring in Tennessee William's "Sweet Bird of Youth" on Broadway. That's when my dad took this picture, as he watched them play softball in the Broadway Show League in Central Park.

Because of this story, I started out with this kind of negative vision of Paul Newman, but as I grew up I made up my own mind that, first of all, I loved watching Paul Newman in movies, but second of all, because of his devotion to philanthropy and what I found out to be his all-around good-guy-ness, Paul Newman became a hero of mine.

So Paul Newman, you are still my hero. May you rest in peace.

Palin's crash course in the real world

Sarah Palin in the Big Apple, desperately cramming to earn some international experience points by sitting in the same room with a wave of world leaders, seems to be a moose out of water.

Please let’s hope some of the city’s fashion style will rub off on her. Maybe a visit to Astor Place Hairstylists might bring her and that schoolmarmish twisty hairbun with bangs thingie closer to the 21st century? just sayin’

Make up your own minds, ladies

Working women with children – the swing vote – why is this segment classified as either Wal-mart moms or hockey or more likely, soccer moms? And why is this segment so flexible or difficult to predict voting-wise? Are working women with children (WWWC) unable to read the paper and/or unable to decide their own political views themselves? Instead they can only identify with a candidate of the female persuasion, even disparate figures as Hillary, Sarah and Michelle and Cindy? Each of these women has a discernible position on politics; they are not interchangeable. So why can’t WWWC just choose to support a candidate who melds with her own views, rather than who shares her genes?

And by the way, I’d like to know why WWWC are declared to be Wal-mart moms, which is possibly about the most opposite of classy you can get. Can’t WWWC be labeled as Macy’s moms, or orchestra moms? Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.