Orion Meets National Geographic

So, Orion magazine's November/December 2005 issue has an article by Mark Dowie about failures of conservation groups. Part of the piece is about how indigenous peoples are being evicted from their native lands.

And National Geographic's February 2006 issue has an article about the Serengeti; it tells that story in some depth, too. From that:

"They paid us nothing," said Ole Serupe, the only surviving Maasai elder who was party to discussions with the British. "We were told to move because they wanted to make a place for the wild animals," he said.

Surely a topic for one of Deborah Solomon's next interviews in the New York Times Magazine, or a front-page piece in the Wall Street Journal's fun-and-interesting column.

Outsourcing, a Guide

When considering torture, for instance, managers must strategize. Will the activities be carried out

1. Onshore
2. Nearshore
3. Offshore
4. Bestshore

and will Dick Cheney be

1. Watching
2. Listening
3. Fiddling
4. Dawdling

while George W.

1. Whistles
2. Chortles
3. Sniffles
4. Nestles

Number of Nanoseconds George W. Devotes to Jill Caroll's situation

.0048

One can't help being reminded of George W.'s words after Daniel Pearl's death:

THE WHITE HOUSE
Office of the Press Secretary (Beijing, People's Republic of China) February 21, 2002

Remarks by the President on Confirmation of the Death of Daniel Pearl St. Regis Hotel Beijing, People's Republic of China

PRESIDENT BUSH: Laura and I, and the American people, are deeply saddened to learn about the loss of Daniel Pearl's life [although, what's the death of a journalist to me? fewer meddling questions for all of us honest folk just trying to do our heck of a jobs]. And we're really sad for his wife and his parents, and his friends and colleagues, who have been clinging to hope for weeks that he be found alive [somebody did a great job here making me sound reasonable and compassionate]. We are especially sad for his unborn child, who will now know his father only through the memory of others [any chance to reference words that come into play in the abortion, um, debate, I'll gladly take].

All Americans are sad and angry to learn of the murder [I wrote this line]. All around the world, American journalists and humanitarian aid workers and diplomats and others do important work in places that are sometimes dangerous [Dick Cheney's valet is a tough cookie]. Those who would threaten Americans, those who would engage in criminal, barbaric acts, need to know that these crimes only hurt their cause and only deepen the resolve of the United States of America to rid the world of these agents of terror [It's good to be propaganda king of the world]. May God bless Daniel Pearl [When's my next vacation?].

First Favorite Word Beginning With Y This New Year

Fusiony.

As spotted in Peter Meehan's $25 and under column in the New York Times. "Was there really so much demand for the restaurant's fusiony brand of vegan cuisine?"

Meehan's referring to Gobo's Upper East Side restaurant (original is in the West Village.)

Or You Could Take the Exit Stairs

For those hoping to get to heaven, first consider the existing routes.

A visit to Fakepope.com demonstrates how Dolly Parton may be off-track.

Last Car of the F Train

There was a time when every other Missed Connections posting on Craigslist seemed to reference the F Train. Often it was the last car, which I think may have been dubbed the pick-up car or something like that. It was known--and written about in who-knows-how-many-publications--that if you wanted to flirt with a purpose, the last car was your destination car.

That came and went, though.

Tonight the last car of the downtown train was so pleasant, it was like sitting in an ideal office space. Across from me was a guy tapping on an Apple G4 Powerbook. Down to my left, a woman reading "The Power of Now" was stretched out along the bench seat. People generally spaced themselves nicely around the whole car, and everybody seemed to be bent over a book.

Not a newspaper, not a tabloid, not a magazine.

No couples. No children. No iPods.

If Harper's (okay, Lewis Laphams's Harper's) were a subway car, this would be it.

Rona Jaffe, One Memory

Some years ago, Rona Jaffe and I sat next to each other at a literary event. She was (lucky for me) one of the most personable people in the room.

At the time, I was a reporter for The New York Observer, and she mentioned that she had been a reporter. We began talking about this, and I asked about her interview technique.

"Fall in love with them," she said. (Note how I'm leaving out my silent response.)

Somebody else had advised the same strategy, only what this person had said was, "You need to offer a platform." At the time, I nodded in agreement, wondering what the person had just said. Everything made sense until "a platform." I visualized a diving board. For more than a year, I tried to figure out what the hell this person was trying to say; call me jargon-challenged.

And Rona Jaffe put it so plainly!

English goes a long way.

The Best Way to Start the New Year: End the Old One Well

I got a ticket off the waitlist at 59E59 Theaters to see this actor Jake Broder do his interpretation of underground cult stand-up satirist Lord Buckley.

Buckley, the "Hip Messiah," inhabited the persona of a faux aristocrat who riffed in this jazzy bebop scat-tongue. Apparently his voice was deeper than Jake Broder's, and no doubt he was leagues better but I was really happy that somebody decided to bring him back from the dead.

The show was staged in a tiny (quite tiny) theater, and the place was set up like a nightclub with red shaded lights hanging from long cords. The theater has a real bar (was even serving a'bunadh), and we could take drinks to the long—and cramped—tables. Two men got in a somewhat tense and overlong argument about seating, I guess, which the woman directly to the right of my ear thought was hilarious.

Broder was backed by a three-man jazz band playing piano, bass, and drums. After telling the audience, "Let's say hello to the band," he turned (in his tie and tails) and proceeded to extend a hand to each band member. "Hello, hello, hello." It was funny, even if worn. Didn't sound like Hullo, though. I wondered: Was that the faux part of the aristocrat?

He "blew" three stories, changing ordinary English into his lingo, dubbed the "Hip Semantic." The whole time he's (a white guy) speaking like a black dude. In between the long stories (we heard Jonah and the Whale, for instance), he blew a little sax, played a little piano, smoked a couple of joints, and was spelled by another actor (Irish, good) delivering "The Hip News." The pianist guy introduced it with chords of the World News Tonight (or maybe Eyewitness News, smoke got in my ears) theme.

Broder's piano playing was interesting; he sang "Georgia" and interrupted with bits of commentary about racists (which, I believe, layered the song even more deeply for people familiar with Lord Buckley's personal bio).

"The Hip News" guy put on Abe attire to deliver the Gettysburg Address. Broder translated. When he called a battle-field a "hassle-ground," my brain swooned.

Sometimes it got exhausting, all the listening. Lord Buckley inspired Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, and Robin Williams, among others. It would have been great to have seen him for real. But Broder did his share of improvisation, so I've got to say: it felt like real theater. I think it was. I think he had me at hello.