Through the miracle of the Internet, the world has become a more compassionate place. In the old days of the bygone 20th Century, if someone was having a bad time of it, if they suffered a loss, a tragedy, a sickness, or a setback, then those who knew them, of their lives and their plight, might send them a handwritten card, a telegram, a bouquet of flowers. At best, they would undertake a personal visit; at the very least, a phone call. But obviously, this actually going out
Caravaggio was a crazy bastard who lost his parents at an early age and died miserably. But he was also a great and visionary artist, so some slack must be cut (as I’m partial to artists, especially crazy ones who lost their parents at an early age). Here follows my essay… As the 16th Century drew to a close, Michelangelo Merisi, known as “Caravaggio”, lived his short, turbulent life as a dance between violence and beauty. At age six, he was orphaned, when he lost his family
White people manifesting abundance. With summer right around the corner, it’s time to start planning for those picnics, backyard parties, family reunions, and the main event, the Fourth of July. Hamburgers and hot dogs! Or if you’re a vegetarian: veggie burgers and Tofurky. Or if you’re a vegan: a rice cake. And then of course, that summer staple: side salads. Potato salad, macaroni salad, baked beans, and my personal favorite, coleslaw. Do not underestimate the importance
“Nothing lasts forever, not even diamonds,” a great philosopher once said. Which got me to thinking about the ephemeral nature of all things. Oh, wouldn’t life be grand if we could live to be 800, like Methuselah! One would think that with 800 years, one might finally get their shit together! “Boy, those first three hundred, all I did was party. And then I was a complete dick for a couple centuries! But the last two hundred, I think I’m getting a handle on this!” Alas, with f
Sure, there’s some good stuff in The Communist Manifesto. And it’s also quite short, so people have no excuse not to read it. But sadly, something was lost in translation (and then some) when the words became real life. I don’t recall anything in Marx and Engels’s mid-Nineteenth Century pamphlet about purges and pogroms, gulags and world domination, and killing 100 million people in the name of The State. Dismal stuff, that. So instead, let’s look at that other Marx, Groucho
"An artist discovers his genius the day he dares not to please."
—Andre Malraux This drink is for artists, writers, and overall creative types beaten down by life and the endless struggle for recognition in the face of insuperable ignorance and indifference. So if you are something other, especially someone in the Law, Real Estate, or Investment Banking, then fuck off!
When Gauguin returned to Paris from Tahiti,
I’m sitting here outside at the wharf, enjoying this perfect day. The sun is shining through a scintillating blue, as clear as an azure sky of deepest summer. A cool breeze from the north has blown away the Southern humidity and left me in an uncommonly good mood. But then, these two lawyers walk by (their law office is a few doors down) and my good mood fizzles. And not for the obvious reasons. I couldn't help but notice how badly they both dress! Their suits are beyond ill-
This month’s RETRO COCKTAIL was named for the “Clover Club”, an elite Philadelphia men’s club that met in the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel. Its members were the movers and shakers of the day, the gentlemen and captains of industry, and for a time, it was the drink of Philadelphia Society. In 1917, its recipe was published for the first time in Thomas Bullock’s cocktail manual, The Ideal Bartender, but by Prohibition it fell out of favor, as did many of the vintage drinks. But tha