September 24, 2004

The Lazy and Shiftless Have Rights, Too!

I stumbled across the following article and was both amused and a little shocked. The efforts the Brits will go to these days to protect the rights and easily offended sensibilities of those less fortunate than us is exceptional. If you advertise for help wanted, "hard working" may not be a requirement for the job, because you may be discriminating against the lazy:

A businesswoman has been banned from asking for 'hard-working' staff in a job ad because it discriminates against the lazy.

Beryl King was told by a Jobcentre that her advert for warehouse workers discriminated against people who were not industrious.

Beryl, 57, told the Daily Mirror: "I couldn't believe my ears. Has our world gone mad?

"I've been running my business for 27 years and it's getting harder to find people who want to do a fair day's work for a fair day's pay.

"How long before someone says you can't pay people for working because it discriminates against those on benefit who are paid for not working?"

Beryl, who owns two job agencies in Totton, Hants, offered £5.42 an hour for "warehouse packers who must be hard-working and reliable".

The Southampton Jobcentre is investigating. A spokesman said: "Words such as 'hardworking' can be accepted if used with a clear job description."

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Today will be a short day

As I noted below, tonight we begin the celebration of the end of the High Holidays, so I will be out of the office early today. I will be happy to have a couple of moments of peace at the end of this week.

First, sorry to all of you who have emailed me and/or left comments and I have not replied. This has been a very busy week and I'm going to try to catch up over the weekend. I am involved, out of work, with three or four different not for profit entities. I had board meetings for three of them this week and all of the meetings generated more work. I did not get home before 10:30 at least twice this week. Then, last night, my in-laws arrived to stay with us for the weekend.

In the meantime, I also squeezed in a visit to get the car serviced and I took my daughter to school one day.

Did I mention that I also practice law in my spare time? One Federal Court oral argument, one motion, one dispute resolved, one settlement negotiated, papers in opposition to a motion received, two new contracts to review and comment on, and, one new piece of substantial litigation offered to me by an existing client. Nothing done to hit next week's deadlines yet, but those are really on Friday.

And now it's Friday already. I wish I had the sense of control that this guy has (it's a great picture)!

Anyway, I'll be trying this weekend to catch up on my emails! Sorry about the delays!

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Day of Atonement

Tonight begins the end of the High Holidays which began with the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah and ends tonight with Kol Nidre and Yom Kippur.

I was going to write something about it. But Simon already wrote a great explanation of the holiday and Rishon wrote about the liturgical peculiarities. Both of these were fabulous posts and I have little to add.

I would add once again, as I did before, my hope that this is a quiet holiday and, for those who keep us safe from harm, a boring and uneventful tour of duty.

Let me also add a note about how my family marks the end of the penitential fast. After nothing crosses the plain of your lips for 25-27 hours, no water, no nothing, we break our fast. How? Since I have been about twelve, and old enough to join in the fast, I have joined in the breaking of the fast with a shot of Scotch. Have you ever tried this? It hits your stomach like an explosion and warmth spreads throughout your body like it was on fire. This is a great way to end the fast. However, you do find yourself in temple during that last service just wishing for a drink! That may not be completely within the spirit of the holiday, but, what are you going to do?

I wish all of those celebrating this holiday an easy fast! And to the rest of you here in NYC, I urge you to follow the example of some of my non-Jewish friends and go out to a nice restaurant since there is almost never a problem, according to my friends, in getting a reservation that night!

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September 20, 2004

A Jewish Joke, as told by Jews

Some of you may have been following the Yankees / Red Sox games and rivalry. Most of you probably don't care. I care. Right now, the Yankees lead the Sox by 4.5 games and the two teams are scheduled to play another three game series starting on Friday night this week. Friday night marks the beginning of Yom Kippur, the culmination of the High Holidays and the Day of Atonement when we ask God to forgive us for the many sins we have committed during the year and to seal us in the book of life. Yom Kippur begins with something called Kol Nidre, which takes place that evening on Friday night. This brings us, with this background, to the joke, one of my favorites:

Mr. Goldberg calls his Rabbi and says, "Rabbi, I have a problem and I need some advice. This year, the Red Sox and the Yankees are playing in a very tight pennant race and the most important game falls on Kol Nidre. What should I do?" The Rabbi listens, thinks for a moment and responds: "Mr. Goldberg, what are you worried about? It is just for a situation like this that we have VCR's!"

And Mr. Goldberg replies, "You mean I can tape Kol Nidre!?!"

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September 17, 2004

What we should learn from a funeral

I just returned from my friend's funeral. His death was not unexpected but the news still carried a shock. The speakers who chose to memorialize his life were very good. They knew him intimately, spoke with great love and conviction, and were moving. I sat there, listening and getting choked up and I began to think, gee, I hope they told him how they felt about him while he was alive. I hope he knew how much his friends loved him and appreciated him. Now we got the title of this post. I think we may all be guilty of not telling the people around us how we feel about them. I know I am. I also know how awkward it can feel to tell someone that you love them and that you appreciate them. Nonetheless, better to hear it alive then at the funeral.

My kids know they are loved. Sometimes my daughter just climbs up into my lap on her own, because she feels like sitting in my lap, and I'll say to her: "Hey, do you think you can just climb up into my lap whenever you want!" And she'll reply, "yes". I'll ask her why she thinks that and, without fail, she responds: "Because you love me".

So my wish today is that you, gentle reader, go and tell someone dear to you how much you love them.

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Highlights from Yesterday

Yesterday, we celebrated Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. I should be doing the same thing today but I'm kind of backed up at work and, to top it off, I just got an email informing me that a friend has died and his funeral will be held this morning. I'm glad I happened to be wearing a tie today because I'm going to try to sneak out for the funeral mass.

I took the Girl Child with me to temple yesterday for the whole morning, armed with a bag containing snacks, a drink, and a small selection of books to look at for when she got bored. When I tell you that she looked exceptionally cute, you don't have to take my word for it. Two different policemen patted her on the head as we passed and she thanked them for stopping the cars for us.

After we made it in, we went to the tots service. It was very sweet and the Girl Child got to play the honey (literally, the honey jar) in the little skit about dipping apples in honey for a sweet new year. I think she had a good time and she picked up a couple of new songs. What was the best part? Easily the best part was sitting next to her and watching her face change from fierce concentration to curiosity to delight and back again. She had a good time for sure.

We then went upstairs to the main sanctuary and joined my father and my grandparents, so four generations in one row. That was sweet, too, and I enjoyed having her with me. As we left, we spoke to the rabbis to wish them a happy new year. We sit, with my grandfather, up at the front (the second row) of the synagogue. My grandfather was one of the founders of the synagogue and helped build it. The younger rabbi told me he was impressed by how well behaved the Girl Child was. He clearly did not hear us reading Little Red Riding Hood in Norwegian for a part of the service. I was very quiet.

As we left, the Girl Child turned to me and said: "Did you hear that, Pappa? Mr. Rabbi said I was very well behaved!"

I then returned home with the Girl Child to pick up the Boy Child and take them over to my parents for lunch. The Girl Child amused me by turning to the Boy Child in the car and saying: "BC, sitter du der og driter, vennen min?" She's speaking much more Norwegian now to the lad, which makes my wife and me very happy. A loose translation, is, "BC, my friend, are you sitting there and shitting?" She didn't seem to mind that she was wrong because she then said to him: "are you my little bean, studman?"

The day ended with a profound thought from my wife and I want to pass it along. We were talking about a job interview she has coming up in a couple of days and she was clearly not excited about the job or the interview and so I asked her why she was doing it. She replied that she wanted to meet the people she'd be doing the job with and for. She said that as she's gotten more experienced, she's come to realize that the people are at least and sometime more important than the job itself and if she really liked the people, she'd take a job that didn't interest her. She's a smart one, she is, my wife. I learn a lot from her when I pay attention.

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September 15, 2004

The Jewish New Year

Simon, at Simon World, has an outstanding post today about the Jewish New Year celebrations and observances which begin today, at sunset, and mark the commencement of the High Holidays. I highly recommend reading it, it's better than what I was going to post about it.

I would add one thought, though. Traditionally, this is the time when Islamic fundamentalists and other freaks most like to attack Israel and Jewish targets outside of Israel, or even start wars. So join me, please in, if not praying for their safety, at least sending good thoughts to those brave men and women who during this holy period stand guard at borders and places of worship and in Iraq. May they stand a boring and uneventful watch and may God protect them.

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September 10, 2004

A Quiet Friday

I will not be posting much this morning. My daughter has her visiting day at pre-school this morning and I worked like a deck hand this week to arrange my schedule so that I could take her. Also, the Boy Child seemed to spike a fever last night out of nowhere so I may be taking him for a quick visit to the doctors this morning before pre-school.

The Girl Child is not so much excited about pre-school as she is about the possiblity that I might take her out for breakfast before taking her to school. She informed me several times how it might be nice to go out for pancakes. Assuming her brother is well enough, I think she might be right.

If all goes according to plan, I will be at work around lunch time and may have a little time to post then. If not, I hope you all have a great weekend!

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September 08, 2004

It's definitely one of those days

Walk to train station in torrential down pour.

Dressed nicely because 4:00 p.m. court appearance.

Discover on reaching train station that shoe has hole in it.

Spend the remainder of the day hoping for sun and with a wet sock because no time to go get the damn thing fixed.

Sudden realization hits that hole in shoe is high point of day.

Resist temptation to chuck it all and jump on tramp steamer headed to Spice Islands.

Definitely, one of those days. Yup.

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Don't Look For Me On Japanese TV

Coming out of Grand Central Station this morning onto 42nd Street, I paused, stopped in my tracks by the fury of the rain. It was coming down so hard and so straight that I was shocked into momentary immobility, a condition not normally known to regular NY commuters. I suppose that was what attracted the nice young reporter, that here was an actual NYer not in motion. She approached me from the side, just barely in my peripheral vision, which I thought was odd and is really not the best way to initiate contact with any stranger in a big city. Then she excused herself and told me that she was a reporter for Japanese television, accompanied by a cameraman, waved a copy of this morning's Newsday in front of me, and asked me if I would comment on the 1000 dead American soldiers.

I stood there as the fury of the storm broke around us and I declined to share with her my thoughts. Firstly, why did she want to know? What was she going to do with my little interview? How was it going to be cut by her editors? What kind of television station was this? So, I politely declined. Don't look for me on Japanese television.

That I declined does not mean that I did not have an opinion. I do.

First, I recoil in horror from the size of the number of our soldiers and civilian defense dept. employees who have been killed in Iraq. The number is so large as to be difficult to wrap my mind around. One thousand. I assume that many of them had families. I assume many of them were reservists who have left a hole in their societies as the jobs they filled and functions they performed are empty and undone. This is horrid and my heart goes out to the families they left behind.

Yet, this is also war. We are engaged in a war with a ruthless and horrible enemy. An enemy who will not shirk from targeting children. An enemy who regards air planes as weapons of mass destruction, who thinks civilian commuter buses are legitimate targets, and who kills pregnant women. This war is being fought right now in Iraq. I think it is better fought there than in the streets of NY or the fields of Pennsylvania again. Right now, the terrorists are drawn to the cities of Iraq where they can fight our soldiers. I believe that our soldiers are taking the fight to the enemy. That is not a bad place, from my perspective, to fight this fight.

I am grateful for the service of our men and women. I respect them and I regularly stop men and women in uniform and thank them. I am grateful for the families they've left behind who have to hold it together while their partners are gone.

So, while I am horrified by the sheer number of soldiers who have died in this fight, I can't help but wonder how many other World Trade Centers they have averted.

I guess where I come out is here: these people have not died in vain, they have died to protect us.

I honor their memory here today, even if I was not inclined to do it on Japanese television.

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September 07, 2004

Everybody Out of The Pool: Summer's Over

I am sorry to say that summer is over. Here are a couple of pictures of summer I took yesterday to keep us warm during the coming cold:

summer1.JPG

-and-

summer2.JPG

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A Last Meal

Things have been terribly serious around here of late but with good reason. That said, I feel the need to inject a note of frivolity into my blog. I will pose to you the question I discussed with my wife last night: What would you choose for your last meal?

It started with a traditional 3 course dinner concept. Then I had to add a soup course, salad course, and a pasta course. It's gonna be a loooong dinner if it's going to be the last one. My wife talked me out of the need to add a Jambalaya course but it took awhile and I still disagree with her.

Now I know that I have some foodie readers so I expect I'll see some pretty interesting suggestions. Let the feeding begin:

Aperitif: A Sidecar. Or a really good Martini with Bombay Sapphire Gin.

Soup:
Hungarian Sour Cherry soup

Salad:
One of the following:
Artichoke Vinaigrette
Classic Steakhouse of Tomatoes, sliced onions, and blue cheese
Classic Caesar with extra anchovies

Pasta:
There was this pasta I had once or twice at this little French place in the West Village, it was homemade tagliatelli with truffles, butter, and raw fois gras pieces that were cooked by the heat of the pasta and kind of dissolved into the dish. It was heaven. It should have come with a referral to a cardiologist.

Appetizer:
Either a miniature Fruits de mer or some wild mushrooms in a sherry cream sauce in a puff pastry.

Main course:
Now we probably have to have either:

Beef Stroganoff with egg noodles or

Chili cheeseburgers with chili cheese fries from this place in Portchester, NY.

Dessert:
Either a tarte au citron
or a black forest cake like my wife made for my birthday some years ago with homemade brandied cherries
or tarte tatin
or a root beer float
Or all of the above

Let's add a cheese course:
Explorateur for the triple creme
A ripe Stilton
A crotin (aged goat's cheese)
An aged Gouda that crackles when you bite into it
Something with truffles in it
Something with a washed rind

I reserve the right to come back and edit this post endlessly.

For instance, I have not put any wines in. I ought to.

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September 05, 2004

A night at the movies

Ok, it was really a night on the couch with a DVD I bought over a year ago but never watched. But, before I get to that, may I tell you that there is a wonderful thing that happens when you keep the children up all day at the beach, playing with the sand and running in and out of the surf, so that they all miss their naps. They go straight to bed at 7:30 with not a peep of complaint and no singing in bed of, "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen" (the tradtional lament of political prisoners all over this great land).

The beach was huge fun. We went with our old college roomie and his family. They have kids approximately the same age as ours and the two oldest kids, mine and his, get along like two peas in a pod. It was quite something to see our kids playing together. We stayed the whole day, said good bye to the roomie, threw the kids in the bath, and packed them off to bed after reading Mr. Jeremy Fisher and Tom Kitten to the Girl Child.

Then, it was adult only time. We opened a bottle of white Port which had been sitting in the fridge forever. Ever have white Port? I assume you are all familiar with the regular red Port, that yummy stuff you drink with walnuts and stinky cheese. A moment while we all applaud the coming of winter with the need to light fires in the fireplace and drink Port and eat copious amounts of stinky cheese. The white stuff is lighter and served chilled as an aperitif, mostly. It's heavier than the nice fino Sherry's, but still quite yummy and this one was no exception.

The film we watched was a Danish film, in Danish, called Italiensk for begyndere. You may have come across it in English where it was called:

italianmovie.jpg

It was billed on the back as a romatic comedy and appeared, according to its description, to mostly be set in Venice. It seemed a perfect choice to end the day. I don't mean to be picky about this, but I prefer my romantic comedies with less death, alcohol abuse, morphine killings, and angst. Perhaps that is what passes for comedy in Denmark. The romance part was not terribly believable, either, for that matter. But, it was of no matter. We actually still enjoyed the damn thing. It moved briskly enough and it was shot in such an odd style, perhaps a varient on that Scandinavian school that mandated just one camera and natural light only. I don't recall the name of that but I'm sure one of you clever people will (I have boundless confidence in the smarts of my readers, you see).

Now that I think about it, the only other Danish language film I can recall seeing was kind of dark, too. Anyone else recall Babette's Feast (Babettes gæstebud)? That was dark but an excellent film.

Today is not beach weather here in Southern New York, but it is a perfectly good day to make homemade peanut butter with the Girl Child and that is what we did. For anyone who wants to do it to, take 2 cups of salted, roasted peanuts, one tablespoon of peanut oil, put them all in the blender and blend until you get butter. You may have to stop and scrape it down from time to time. It's yummy. You can put it in the fridge and when you want it, stir the oil back in to the butter. It will keep, I'm told, for about two weeks or so.

Peace, y'all.

By the way, I am having problems leaving comments on other Mu.Nu blogs because it seems not to like the word m-a-i-l-dot-com. Feel free to send me an email if you have something you want to say until it gets sorted out. The information is on the side bar on the left.

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September 03, 2004

The Children in Russia

I don't have much to say today. I am personally so saddened by the deaths of the children in Russia this morning that I feel a bit wrung out. Go visit this site for updates and photographs and translations from the Russian media sources.

This crime is beyond description for me. I keep coming back to the woman who had to choose between which of her two children she was going to send out of the school and which was going to remain as a hostage. The six year old or the two year old. How would you decide? She chose the two year old to go out, reasoning, or so I understand, that the six year old would be better able to bear up under the stress.

I am not a very religious person, but I feel compelled to ask: May God bless those children who died there in that school.

UPDATE:

Michael Darragh found the link to the story about the woman who had to choose between her children. Don't read this unless you really feel the need to break down and cry.

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Copyright Infringement

One of the reasons there has not been a lot of activity here is that I have spent much of my morning engaged in the research of the Fair Use Doctrine, an exception and affirmative defense to a charge of copyright violation. I have satisfied myself about what I have done generally and, in doing so, have created a 5 or 6 page single spaced memo summarizing my research. I am somewhat loath (typo corrected) to post it here because I have a horror of someone thinking I am giving legal advice on my blog because that's the last thing I want to do. What do you think? Should I post something?

UPDATE:

I've decided not to post my little memo. I found something on the web that treats the subject much more exhaustively than I do and I highly recommend going to read it: The Stanford University Libraries Section on Copyright and Fair Use. This appears to be excellent. I enjoyed it and found it informative and I get out of my problem of fearing to appear to be giving legal advice to the whole world on the net.

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September 02, 2004

The Smell of Breakfast

I was walking to the train station this morning when I felt myself oddly suspended in some kind of nether state between morning and night. To my left, the sky was shot through with the pinks and oranges of a stunning sunrise, portending a spectacular day. To my left, I noticed an almost full moon still hung in the sky, like someone forgot to put it away from last night. One side, the sun. The other side, the moon. Where the f**k was I?

And then I was hit by the smell of someone cooking breakfast. I have never smelled anyone's cooking odors before on this walk. But it reassured me that I was still relatively grounded. And it got me thinking about cooking odors and cooperative living.

We used to live in an apartment house in New York City on the oh-so-posh Upper East Side, a ghetto for blondes. The first time over there from our Upper West Side apartment, my wife commented that she thought we were in Greenwich, Connecticut by mistake. We lived in a building with 6 apartments on our floor.

Apartment living is intimate, even in a pre-War apartment building like ours. You know when your neighbors leave for work, because the door slams. You know who favors stiletto heels, because you can hear it on the terrazzo or on the hardwood floors above you. You know what their reading habits are because you see their magazines when you go to recycle yours. And you pretend that you know nothing about anything when you actually see them face to face. That was the fiction, that you knew nothing about the different guys who were coming and going from your neighbor's apartment in the early morning hours. No problem. I could do that fiction. That changed, of course, when I was elected to the Board of the Coop, but thatÂ’s another story.

Another thing you learned about your neighbors is that no one cooked on the Upper East Side. I mean, why bother, right? Chinese food delivered in under 7 minutes. Seriously. And it was good and not much more than what you might spend to cook it yourself and way more efficient in use of time. One of our neighbors actually got a call from the local utility asking if she'd like them to turn the gas off to her apartment since they noticed that she had not once turned the stove on in the last eight years.

Well, I cooked and my neighbors had to learn to ignore my cooking odors. Unfortunately for them, I cook well. I like to cook things that smell really good, like slow braised beef with about 30 cloves of garlic that you cook for 4 or 5 hours on 250 degrees until you just cannot stand the smell of the yummy goodness any more and you have to tear the oven open and dip some bread into the cooking juices or you are going to kill somebody. Or roasted chickens. Or long simmering soups and pasta sauces. Things that just smacked you in the face when you got off the elevator. Yup, my apartment was that smelly cooking apartment.

No one ever said anything, but I know that they all wanted to come over for dinner.

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September 01, 2004

A moment of disperception on the train this morning

I had a moment of disperception this morning on the train. You know, a moment during which you feel suddenly weightless, no longer held to the bounds of the earth by bonds of rationality or ordered thought. I am not shocked by these moments now. I get them all the time while reading the NY Times. This one came whilst (I enjoyed sneaking that word in, pardon the digression) reading a book review concerning a book that holds that Europe is eclipsing the United States in the "good life". The Times surprised me by not giving the book a good review but that was not the disperceptive moment. Here's the quote that brought me up short:

It would be foolish, especially after the recent report of an increase in poverty in the United States, for even the most committed proponent of the American way not to admire much in Europe these days: its reduction of grinding poverty almost to a vestige, its low levels of violent crime, the quality of its culture.

It would be too much to fisk the whole thing, but one phrase jumped off the page at me: the quality of its culture. What the heck does that mean?

Firstly, is there such a thing as a European culture? Other than Yogurt? Europe, as we can all agree, is a CONTINENT, not a country, not a unitary social construct to which we can ascribe common beliefs and expressions such that we can call any expression by its citizens a manifestation of a culture. Even for the US, it's hard to do, considering we, too, are a continent and yet there are substantial cultural differences between the coasts and breaking down among the regions. So that blithe assumption bugged me.

Secondly, the quality? The quality? Is he kidding? Clearly not, I suppose since the reviewer thinks that this proposition is so self evident that it requires nothing more than a languid flip of the wrist to insert it in the article, then a pause as the cognoscenti silently concur, and then we continue on, all happily flattered to be considered in the know concerning the quality (superior, implied heavily) of European culture. Please. I think I need a drink.

How do you judge the quality? Do we have agreed upon standards? Is there a time period we are talking about? What is culture, exactly? Is it art, literature and music all by itself? If so, I'd say that Europe was hands down the home of quality culture during the Renaissance. That can't be too controversial, can it?

Is it the marketplace of new ideas? Well, Europe gave us Fascism, the Nazis, and Communism, some of the worst ideas ever. That ain't quality culture. And we have left plenty of dead Americans in Europe to prove it.

Is it architecture? Is it cooking? Food? Wine? What the hell is culture anyway?

I have no idea what the reviewer is talking about anymore. Are you all as confused as I am?

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