Henry Ford: “History is bunk.”
History: “Henry Ford was a brilliant industrialist but was also a heinous anti-Semite with a twisted social vision who vested in his namesake company his personal faults, to the point where it took three generations of managers to keep the company from self-immolating.”
History FTW.
I’m not interested in a divorce from reality. A short separation, on the other hand, seems to be a good idea.
I am the egg-man.
Not far from Pioneer Square in Seattle is the Cherry Street Coffee House, a hidden oasis of superb coffee and healthy eats.
Sure, there are plenty of little joints scattered around Seattle, but I keep finding myself going back to this one. Cherry Street also boasts one of those bohemian dining areas that beg you to sit down, pull out your laptop or your Moleskine, and start creating.
That it’s a block from my company’s Seattle office, a block from my preferred hotel, and a block from the LINK light rail line to Sea-Tac make it one of the best-located writer’s nooks on my list anywhere.
I think it’s time to cook up a reason for a deductible junket…
The problem is less one of forgetting the past and its meaning than of remembering the wrong things about it and drawing the wrong lessons from it. The characterization of “Greatest Generation” is a good example of a myth that, in Walter Lippmann’s phrase, is well meaning but unmeaning.
Maury Klein
A Call to Arms: Mobilizing America in World War II
Nationalism had been, before the war, a claim pressed by minorities against large multiethnic empires, but after Versailles it became a claim that minority groups asserted against one another.
– Yehuda Mirsky
I’ve reached that point in my life when all I want for Chanukah is socks.
Whenever this cup lands on my desk with the cafe-du-jour, I open up YouTube on one of my screens and call up a live stream from somewhere in New York City.
I am one of those people who is happy to eschew forever any opportunity to live in NYC in favor of occasional visits. But while I have been to the Big Apple several times on business, I have never had an opportunity to visit for the pure purpose of visiting. I do feel like I am missing something.
So a trip is in the offing. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the City vicariously, allowing my brain to craft a Manhattan in my mind.
The Hydro Flask is ridiculously expensive, by far the costliest caffeine receptacle in the house. It is finicky, requiring a hand-wash (and occasional de-staining with a soak in white vinegar), and heavier than a wet collie. But damned if it doesn’t chill my day-old coffee and keep it cold all day so that I can sip and not gulp the stuff.
Because deep down inside each and every American, there’s a little Texan.
Sometimes two or three.
A Bucket and a Pen 