Eskimo Dog, Animal Haven (available for adoption)
"A bundle of insatiable neuroses and appetites (he once weighed around 350 pounds), Mr. Goldstein used and abused the bully pulpit of his magazine and, later, his late-night public-access cable show, “Midnight Blue,” to curse his countless enemies, among them the Nixon administration, an Italian restaurant that omitted garlic from its spaghetti sauce, himself and, most troubling to his defenders, his own family."
More from the @rcraggs series of me atop the Pyramid of the Sun.
"I mean, there we’ll be — we non–New Yorkers — minding our own business, just quietly enjoying the sight of a team with a $90 million payroll somehow contriving to be terrible in new and profound ways, maybe musing to ourselves about whether the starting five reminds us more of a racehorse dying of a computer virus or a volcano dying of constipation, when pow, up pops some award-winning metropolitan columnist to tell us how coach Mike Woodson can “save the season.” Save it from what, buddy? Delightfulness?"
Edificio El Moro and the Caballito on Paseo de la Reforma, last Sunday.
"If you are a liberal older than, say, 24—old enough to either hate Thought Catalog or not know what Thought Catalog is, is a better barometer—you know this. That George W. Bush is uncool, lame, establishment, square, and odious, etc., is a political fact as self-evident and unnecessary to argue as “Mitt Romney takes double-A batteries” or “Bill Clinton has an oiliness about him.”"
"After sufficient exposure to this stuff —– to 20-minute multimedia presentations, “fireside chats” with victorious founders, public pitches to panels of venture capitalists — my perception of these entrepreneurial people began to blur to the point where they converged, all of them, into one breezily self-assured dude with a cordless head mike and an overinvestment in the concept of disruption."
"The first time I tasted durian was when I was posted in Kuala Lumpur 15 years ago. Trucks piled high with the fruit would come in from the Malaysian countryside, and I would spend evenings sitting with friends on plastic stools by the roadside sampling different varieties. Unlike the Thais, who cut durians down from trees, Malaysians usually wait for them to fall. The result is a much riper and stronger-tasting durian, sometimes slightly fermented. Durian farmers in Malaysia have been known to wear helmets: No one wants to be on the receiving end of a five-pound spike-bomb. Malaysians also believe that durian is an aphrodisiac. When the durians fall, the sarongs go up, goes a Malaysian saying."