550. Foodie

 Yes, I am at times a foodie, but aren't we all?  Right now I crave

• prune juice
• English muffins
• raisins in plain yogurt

The first is a new craving, the secønd a memory, and the third a new discovery.  But these replace foods I have long consumed but now reject ss boring:

• kale and collards
• triple-washed baby spinach salad greens
• apples
• bananas

But in my travels I have encountered marvels:

• French goat cheese (chèvre)
• French babas au rhum (sponge cake topped with whipped cream and a cherry)
• Italian pasta (almost any kind)
• Mexican pineapple (piña)         .            
• Mexican flan

Yes, they can be found here, but it's not the same.

In eating, I am a child of the Midwest, where corn is plentiful. In late summer I love to eat corn on the cob, with butter and salt dripping down my chin. Elegant?  No.  But earthy and fun.

Finally, a foodie quiz:

1. What is the largest nut?
2. What food from the New World was at first thought to be an aphrodisiac in England and called a "love apple"?
3. What common fruit, when introduced in the US in the 1930s. brought complaints from housewives that, no matter how long they cooked it, the skin or rind remained tough?
4.  What language do "potato"and "tomato" come from?

I'll give the answers in the next post.  Meanwhile, fellow foodies, enjoy your meals.

549. Surviving in New York City

 Forgive another personal anecdote.  My leg seemed to have a problem -- little bumps. No pain or itching, just little bumps.  But this was the leg whose infection sent me to the hospital recently, so a council of war ws called.  To make sure no new infection was involved, I and a select group of friends called 911 to have my vital signs checked.  And 911 came -- four husky guys with all kinds of equipment.  They checked those signs: normal.  With nothing for them to do, they left.  But a nurse was also summoned to check that suspect leg, and he repeated the vital signs check-up: normal.  

Boring, isn't it?  No crisis!  Bu there's a complication: at times I find myself beahing fast, slowing down only gradually to what is, for me, normal.  So there's lots for a doctor who makes house calls to consider.  But it will take a lot -- maybe four officers with a strait jacket -- to get me out of my beloved top-floor apartment, high above the Magnolia Bakery of "Sex and the City" fame.  I'm not ready for another hospital stay, and nobody will convince me that rehab centers are quieter and more restful than hospitals, when recent experience has taught me better.  So here I am, home again, entrenched, and hoping for better.  I love my apartment, my building, my neighbors, and the West Village, and will cling to the end.

The next post, I promise, will have no mention of me.

, for me, normal.  

548. Breaking Away

 

BREAKING AWAY.  A complete break, or a partial break.  

You do it because you are tired tired tired of what you are doing.  I did it after getting my Ph.D. in French.  I left New York for San Francisco and the tail end of the Beat scene, before the Hippie madness took over.  I was tired of Academia.

How about you?  Did you ever break away?  Do you want to now?  Tell us.  We will listen.

547. My Bawdy, Genteel Party: Who Can Come and Who Can't

                        MY  PARTY

"Nobody kills a party like a genius,"said the great party-giver Elsa Maxwell, and she should know.  So no geniuses, at least if self-proclaimed.

So who can come?  I'll confine myself to writers, since we know, or think we know, them best.  

Chaucer, for one.  He had wide experience, and a great sense of humor, earthy and a bit naughty.

Who else?  The Greek playwright Aristophanes.  He imagined an airy republic of the birds up in Cloud Cuckoo Land, would surely keep us in stitches. 

Certainly our own Ben Franklin, who was witty and wise, and especially with the ladies, charming.  He charmed the French court of Louis XVI, helped us get our independence.

Speaking of ladies, how about some?  Madame de Sévigné, who wrote charming letters with a light touch.  And Jane Austen, of course.  

Any more Americans?  Surely Mark Twain, with tales of his travels.  And on a more serious note, Henry James, observant and worldly-wise, even if he uses ten words where three will do.

Who can't come?  Milton: too sure of himself and everything.  La Rochefoucauld: his Maxims, reducing everything to self-love, are too jaded, too sour.  Dr. Johnson: a dyed-in-the-wool Tory, unflinchingly conservative.  And Romantic poets generally: too weepy, too self-involved.

Shakespeare?  Yes, though we don't really know him; we know his works.  And Moliere, who knew lot about human nature.

That's enough, you get the idea.  And you, my readers, are invited, too.  A great time will be had by all.

546. We Lived Richly

The closing paragraph of the online memoir I will soon send 

to the Gay History Archive on 13th Street:   

So ends my story.  On Thursday, March 17, 2022, I donated Bob’s diaries, correspondence, and photo albums to the Gay Center on West 13th Street, for inclusion in their gay history archive.  None of it can be made public until ten years after my death.  This memoir will also go there.  This is a substantial collection that could someday be used in many ways.  In it there is much pain, joy, frustration, and realization.  We lived richly.  

Yes, we lived richly.

545. Surviving Hospital Food and the Squawking Bitch

 

545.  Surviving Hospital Food and the Squawking Bitch

During my recent hospital and rehab center stay (see post 544),

I had many misadventures.  Among them:

• Going to the hospital in the worst snowstorm in years, arriving in my new room at 3 a.m. 
• Dealing with  the Squawking Bitch, a sadistic nurse's aide who -- unlike most of  the rehab staff -- made my life at times miserable.
• Trying for four days to connect with an elusive  nurse practitioner, then giving it up, only to have her finally materialize and prove most helpful.
• Dining with other inmates who, when one of them screamed for help, continued their quiet conversation (his screams were a daily occurrence).
• Getting little sleep because of lights coming on at 3 a,m., clattering bedpans dropped in the hall, and nurses determined to get your vital signs at odd hours.
• Funny moments alternating with horrors that I cannot bring myself to describe.

In spite of the above, I highly recommend both Lenox Hill Hospital and Village Care, the rehab center on Houston Street where I was treated.  They helped me a lot.

543. Big Guys Who Don't Pay Taxes

BROWDERBOOKS

Sold 14 paperbacks of Fascinating New Yorkers and one of New Yorkers: A Feisty People last November and December, while advertising the first one in the New York Review of Books.  And two more of Fascinating New Yorkers in the first few days of January 2022 (maybe people using gift cards).  

Why then?  The holiday gift-giving season.  So it looks like my assumption was accurate: lots of my potential readers subscribe to NYRB.  But reader reviews on Amazon I'm not getting, and I could sure use some. 

My short story collection Wicked City is in the works, but my novel Panther Lady advances slowly -- I don't know why.

     BIG  GUYS  WHO  DON'T  PAY  TAXES

Yes, it's that time of year, when tax documents start clogging the mail, and tax accountants prepare for an avalanche of business.  

But not everyone pays taxes.  I'm not talking about the little guy who gets a tax break.  I mean corporations that rake in millions a year but quite legally don't pay taxes.

Thanks to an online study by the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy, we know which of the big boys paid not a penny of income tax to the federal government in 2020 -- 55 corporations in all.  And most of them even got a tax rebate.  In other words, the government owed them money.  Among them:  

Consolidated Edison:  $1.2 billion in pre-tax income.  Plus a rebate of $2 million.

Fed Ex: $1.2 billion in pre-tax income.  Plus a rebate of $230 million.

Nike: $2.8 billion in pre-tax income.  Plus a rebate of $109 million.

And 52 others.  How do they do it?  

• A tax break that lets companies write off executive stock- option related expenses that go far beyond expenses they report to investors.
• The federal research and experimentation credit.
• Tax breaks for renewable energy.
• Depreciation tax breaks.

Maybe puzzling to the layman, but not to these companies' tax consultants.  Could these tax breaks be reduced or eliminated by the government?  Of course.  Will they be?  Not easily.  Such reforms don't interest many voters, concerned as they are with what affects them personally.  Tax reform for corporations just ain't sexy.

Source note:  This information comes from a report by the Institute for Taxation and Economic Policy, dated April 2, 2021, by Matthew Gardner and Steve Wamhoff, available online.

542. Stingy Wednesday: The Answer to Giving Tuesday

              STINGY  WEDNESDAY

THE  ANSWER  TO  GIVING  TUESDAY

Giving Tuesday, the first Tuesday after Thanksgiving, brings out the Scrooge in me.  I do give to worthy nonprofits, who then give or sell my name to other worthy nonprofits.  Result: I am constantly bombarded by appeals for money.  

There is no way I could give to them all, but they keep after me with letters, ads, and phone calls, assuring me it is the right thing to do, since it will make for a better world.

These appeals have reached the point where I rebel. I know their game, and when approached, recognize it and turn savage.  Openings like these enrage me:

• Last chance ...
• Only 24 hours left ...
• Act now! ...
• Your gift will be doubled if you ...

Giving Tuesday indeed!  How about Giving Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday?  I am harassed on every day of the week, especially during the holidays.  What to do?

I propose that the Wednesday following Giving Tuesday become Stingy Wednesday, on which everyone vows to give not one cent to anyone.  Be selfish.  Read Ayn Rand.  Be a Scrooge.  Above all, keep in mind: There is no one to love you like yourself.  

And don't feel apologetic about it. Enjoy being a Scrooge.  It's fun.  And try to out-Scrooge everyone else.  That's fun, too.  Your ego will take wings and soar. Left behind: your tormentors, and all the cunning promoters of Giving Tuesday and their well-meaning, namby-pamby dupes.

attribution: Robert Doucette

 

©  2022  Clifford Browder

541. War Is Sexy, Peace Is Not

   

            WAR IS SEXY, PEACE IS NOT

Long ago, on station WBAI (where else?), I heard a high priestess of the New Age declare, “We’ve got to make peace sexy!”  This inspired me to write a poem about peace that I now think is junk, but much lster I did another poem on the subject that may not be junk.  Here it is:

       Sexy

Wild is sexy, tame is not.

War is sexy, peace is not.

God is sexy, His worshipers are not,

Though Her worshipers would be for sure.

Death, mysterious, is sexy,

Dying, messy, is not. 

Gobbling junk food is sexy,

Health and healthy eating are not.

Stupid is sexy,

If brash, loud, and shocking.

Wisdom,

Calm and contained, is not.

For the sake of sanity, logic, 

And the well-being of a cosmos

Ever threatened by chaos,

We’ve got to make

Peace, health, and wisdom sexy,

Sexy as hell.

So there’s your assignment for the New Year: make peace, health, and wisdom sexy.  It will make for a better world.

©   2022  Clifford Browder