Could This Ever Happen Again?

I've been working on collages all morning. It's a strange process because, although the end result is often funny, the images I'm working with are generally pretty fucked up. I mostly manage to stay pretty cool and detached and logical during the process - if I didn't I would never get anything done. You just can't burst into tears at every single photo and accomplish anything, you know? However, I am not a robot, and it's always interesting to see which images get to me on a given day and why. Today I have been looking at concentration camps, African civil wars, floods, Vietnam...the usual. Every once in a while I have stopped and thought a little bit more about certain photos, but this one is the first one that really got to me today. This photo was taken by Ed Clark and appeared in Life magazine on April 17, 1945 (my grandfather's 28th birthday, and, I believe, the last one he spent fighting in World War II). The picture has a cool story and here it is:

"In Warm Springs, Ga., 50 photographers and newsreel cameramen jostled for a shot as the hearse carrying Franklin D. Roosevelt's body headed to the train station.

Suddenly, Life magazine photographer Ed Clark heard the strains of "Goin' Home," a favorite song of FDR's, being played on the accordion. Turning, he saw Navy bandsman Graham Jackson playing the tune, his face showing anguish and tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I thought, 'My God! What a picture,' " Clark said. "I took three or four shots with my Leica, hoping that nobody else noticed."

No one did. Clark's exclusive photograph took up a full page in the April 17, 1945, issue of Life, which was devoted to Roosevelt's death. The picture came to symbolize a nation's grief."

The reason this picture made me stop working and start crying is because it made me think of how far we've come as a nation from that moment. The thought of all those people of different backgrounds coming together and being so upset for the death of George Bush is laughable. It would never happen. The question is, could it ever happen again with any president, or is this image a product of a more innocent, less fractured time? Would Bill Clinton's death spark this type of emotion? I don't know if anyone's could. I have only been really sad and emotional about one public figure's death - George Harrison. But the only time I have experienced shared emotion on the scale that this photo depicts is on September 11 and the few days following. Is that what it takes these days? Sadly, I think the answer is probably yes.

If the Price Was Right?

Each and every morning when I drag my cranky ne'er do well ass out of bed, I think to myself, "At least I ain't working for the man." I'm not saving puppies from incineration, mind you, but it's not like I sit on Haliburton's board of directors. I do work for a man, just one so tiny so as not to suck me dry. To sum up my current corporate existence, I've been forbidden from wearing flip flops to work, but drag queens make regular appearances at our annual talent show. Basically, it could be better, but it could also be much much worse. It criss crosses the line between stifling and acceptable.
Anyway, there's been some bloggin' about the new Times cafeteria, and I have to say it's pretty fricking ridiculous. Today I picked away at my work-provided lunch, a quasi hot/cold buffet meal eaten in my dungeon-like cube, of fried catfish that literally tasted like cardboard (someone took a note from the Chinese?). And I read more about the delicacies being scarfed down at TimesHQ. They have an island of cheese! A sandwich station! And, be still my beating heart, a fro yo machine. Those fuckers. I've read similar accounts of the corporate cafeterias at Conde Nast and Hearst, but nothing tops Google.

I did a little research and discovered that if you work at Google's California campus "Googleplex," you could:
Dine at one of seven corporate cafeterias, including one that sources only local product from within a 150 mile radius (that's that's extremely ambitious, even by California hippie standards).

Enjoy daily "foodles," an daily email sent to educate employees about fun food facts and healthy eating, eat free breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks and pick up prepackaged foods for weekend meals.

Shop at an onsite famers' market, get a check-up, get a hair-cut, take a swim, do your laundry, play volleyball, get your bike repaired, get free rides on company shuttle buses, gawk at a dinosaur, pee atop a heated Japanese toilet seat, keep a lava lamp on your desk, bring your dog to work, receive $8,000 a year in tuition reimbursement, and, this is by far the creepiest, receive $5,000 toward adoption assistance.

I know it sounds nice, but wouldn't you have to be lobotomized to really enjoy it? First off, although the management obviously values their employees, all of these perks still constitute entrapment. If you can get a free lunch, you won't spend an hour off campus. You'll stay later if you don't have to go home to walk your dog or pick up your dry cleaning. If they buy you an adopted Chinese baby, you pretty much owe them, big time for all of eternity. And what kind of Kool-Aid must you be drinking to sustain such a cultish existence?

But, on the other hand, I've always liked the taste of Kool-Aid. (I wasn't allowed to drink it as a child (red dye no. 3), and I'm still inexplicably drawn to it.) Me being Chinese and all, I know how to meld myself into the faceless mass. Perhaps the fresh Mountain View air would do me good. And I'd like to adopt a Chinese baby some day. I checked the Goggle job board and found myself to be woefully underqualified for any of the current openings, but perhaps I'll check back later. There's something to be said for free lunch, even if it's not really free.

Malfeasance at the BPL. Why am I Surprised?

*** WARNING *** THIS POST CONTAINS ADULT THEMES*** WARNING***

You might recall from an earlier post that I had been banned from the Brooklyn Public Library due to $18 in overdue fines (not all my fault!), which, really, I had no intention of ever paying. Well, I had to use a computer program available on library computers, which necessitated that I get my card out of hock first. It turns out I actually owed a whopping $28 dollars in fines. But you can carry a $25 fine without penalty. There's the happy part of my library experience.

It's been years since I've actually been to the Central Branch, and they've since upgraded their computers. Now you have to sign up for a spot by swiping your card and entering a pin at one computer, then watching the progress of the queue on a second monitor. The system tracks everything via your library card barcode, so when you sit down at your assigned machine, you have to reswipe your card and enter your pin to log on. After that you have 30 minutes to use the computer before you get booted off. Technology! It's a pretty efficient system, but don't you miss the days where everything was a free for all, when you could cut the line and get away with it? I'm not just talking about the computer line at the library, if you know what I'm saying.

Anyway, I'll grant that what transpires next has something to do with my own nosiness (I'm nosy. So what—sue me.), not just the inherent weirdness of human beings.

I started click clacking away at my station, right next to a little boy, maybe 12 or 13, who was surfing the web. His mom kept coming back to check on him, trying to direct him to sites that would help him do his math homework, but when I glanced over at his screen, I saw that he was reading about Ron Jeremy!

That kid left after a few minutes only to be replaced by an older guy, maybe in his late 30s, who immediately proceeded to look at gay porn—photos and videos! I was tempted to leave straightaway, but he was quiet about it, and I had a lot of work still left to do. After a few minutes he reached into the plastic bag he had been carrying around and pulled out one of those dark privacy filters you can stick to monitors! My concentration was shot by that point—and I figured things were about to get hot and heavy—so I beat a hasty retreat.

Do you think this guy likes to look at porn in public? Or does he think the privacy screen hides the fact that he's doing something sketchy (when in fact it actually enhances it?!). Or perhaps he doesn't have internet access at home? I wouldn't have necessarily thought about the latter, but I noticed that it was mainly brown people using the library computers and white people sitting at tables with laptops. Not that that's a valid justification, but naturally you couldn't look at internet porn at home without an internet connection.

I forgot to mention that throughout all of this, there was a cop passing back and forth, which suggests that there's plenty of malfeasance afoot at the BPL on a regular basis.

Anyway, I noticed that the titles of the books I checked out are pretty funny when put together:

1. The Great Wall of New York
2. I Don't Know What I Want, But I Know It's Not This: A Step-by-Step Guide to Finding Gratifying Work
3. Indecision
4. Poor People

What a dork.

NYC: What the Fuck is Wrong with this City?

I'm not angry solely because I'm hungry although hunger does tend to breed desperation. (It's Day 5 of the "master cleanse" and I'm seriously pissed because a) I'm hungry; b) it's fried chicken day in our cafeteria and I'm surrounded by the smell of it; c) still no sign of mucoid plaque.)

Anyway, enough about my colon. To keep my mind off of the fried chicken fumes, I was listening to the Brian Lehrer Show. The last segment was about yuppie Manhattan parents (blah blah blah), but one guest threw out a tidbit that really stung. He said that rich people in NYC are 52 times richer than the poor, an income disparity that is similar to that of Namibia. Aaargh!

So, what's wrong with this fucking city? (Yes, I realize that there is something wrong with this entire country, but right now I'm talking about New York, which is clearly the center of the universe.) We've all started to face up to the fact that NYC has gotten rich, expensive, and boring in recent years. In addition to the obvious visual cues--chain store upon chain store, Avenue C being a playground for suits, and too much Kobe beef--doesn't it seem like we've all gotten complacent, even those among us who aren't rich?

In our defense, I know that there are many many things to be angry about, and it's really difficult to stay on top of this much injustice. Every day a sad or infuriating story hits the news. (Just this week alone, two things that people should be SCREAMING about: more evidence of rushed cleanup after 9/11 and pre-RNC police spying.) Maybe our lack of focus is due to sheer volume? Given the constant media blitz we live under, when a story comes to prominence, it seems to get coverage above the fold for only a couple days.

Or is it the political climate that's to blame? We have such a warm and fuzzy relationship with our petite mayor Bloomberg, but do you remember the days when we bonded together in mutual hatred for Giuliani? People got pissed back then! Doesn't it seem like we've lost our collective sense of outrage? Did the angry people move away or is it just the anger that left?

Well, I certainly blame myself for my own personal failures. And I'm going to pass the buck to rich people and their rich person trappings. For instance, sometimes I'm stomping down the street, nursing an acceptable anger level (say a 7.5 out of 10), then I pass by a cutesy bakery. Next thing you know I've forgotten about the homeless person I just walked by (get a job, loser!), and I'm stuffing a cupcake in my mouth. Which pretty much instantly subdues the beast.

In sunnier news for Gotham, an urban beekeeper on the Leonard Lopate Show says NYC's bees are in better shape than rural bees.

Whole Foods Machine

Any of you NYCers been to Whole Foods at Union Square lately? I know I sometimes rant about it, but I had a gift card! (Russ: I confess I scampered over there directly following the mini-rant I delivered to you via cell phone on the suburbanization of New York.)

Anyway, they've got a new check-out system. I'll withhold judgement--let's just say it involves TV screens, colors, and robots. Or at least robotic recorded voices. And mass chaos! It's funny to see people react to a new system of organization (by that I mean being herded like the cattle we are).

Do you think it's meant to replace that person who points you toward the next open register? There was one there tonight, and he seemed resentful. Replacing people with robot voices (and colors and TV screens) would seem to run counter to the store's corporate hippie ethos, but they can repurpose him to nut packaging.

Little known WFM nugget I heard from a friend and employee. The average wait time in NYC stores is 6 minutes. If true, that's pretty pretty good. You could do far worse in a line of three people at Duane Reade.