Back from the New York Groove

Annnnnnnd, we're back!  I am truly sorry to have left you all to fend for yourselves over the last nearly-two weeks.  Hopefully, you amused yourself with the exploits of Sleep-Talkin' Man or other stand-in blogs.  (And, yes, "Anonymous," I realize I used "hopefully" in an improper sense, but, then, I have always been more of a de- than a pre-scriptivist, so deal with it.  Just be glad I'm back!)

New York was the proverbial hoot.  I consider myself relatively lucky that the temperature remained for the most part south of 90 during my stay.  Aside from a couple of times when I made the mistake of over-exerting myself (by, y'know, breathing), I stayed fairly comfortable.  I had the opportunity to see MOS and FOS and Ex-Roommate of Solipsist (I'm not going to refer to him as EROS) and generally to reacquaint myself with the sights and sounds of the old stomping grounds.

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Drove down to Jersey to see Aunt of Solipsist.  Neither she nor MOS is moving particularly well these days.  Various combinations of age, arthritis, and general deterioration have slowed them both.  We went out to lunch at a waterside restaurant.  Afterwards, I walked ahead to the car and waited for MOS and AOS.  They walked toward the car.  And walked.  And walked.  And. . . .  Let me put it this way: You know that scene in "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" when Lancelot (John Cleese) is charging toward a castle, and the camera keeps cutting back and forth between him and the people watching in the castle, and Lancelot never seems to be getting any closer to the castle?

Yeah, it was kind of like that.

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Just remembered that MOS now has a little Netbook with which she can access the internet and read this column, so never mind what I just said.

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Managed to get caught up on all the superhero movies.  Saw "The Dark Knight Rises," "The Amazing Spider-Man," and "The Avengers."  "DKR" was excellent.  Upon further reflection, there are some minor quibbles, but overall it did everything one could have hoped for, short of resurrecting Heath Ledger.  "Spider-Man" kind of disappointed.  Andrew Garfield is nowhere near as good a Peter Parker as Tobey Maguire.  It's not his fault, though: The character was poorly written.  I'm a Spider-Man purist and, to me, Peter Parker should be a geeky, gawky science nerd, not some tormented emo dude.  I also enjoyed "The Avengers," especially since I watched it on the flight back to California.  Nice way to kill two-plus hours.  On the whole, though, "DKR" was better, but that could also be chalked up to the fact that I saw the Batman movie in IMAX and "The Avengers" on a five-inch seatback TV screen.

I will say, though, that Robert Downey, Jr., gets the lifetime achievement award for best performance by an actor in a superhero role.

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Couldn't actually find the Ground Zero memorial.  I met EROS (there, OK?) down in the financial district and got a nice close-up view of the Freedom Tower under construction, but though I constantly saw signs with arrows pointing to the memorial, I couldn't actually find the place.  Oddly enough, I asked EROS--who works in the area--and HE wasn't sure where it was, either.  I was disturbed but not overly disappointed: Not disappointed because it would have been worth checking out, but it wasn't worth a full-fledged search.  Disturbed because I worry that EROS may have done some serious damage to his mental/observational faculties during his time in college.  It would explain a lot.

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So New York was lovely, bright and hot.  Good to be back to Solipsist Central, though.  I promise not to desert you all any time soon.

The Solipsist Reads the Times (So You Don't Have To)

84-year-old former Egyptian dictator and Robert De Niro look-alike Hosni Mubarak was sentenced to life in prison.  He thus has nothing to look forward to but sitting around his room, watching television, and eating bland food, as opposed to your typical octogenarian who's out there windsurfing.  The Egyptian people, though, are disappointed in the verdict--some people are just never satisfied!--as the judge only found Mubarak guilty of being an accomplice to the murders of a couple hundred protesters during the early days of the uprising.  I suppose this is technically true, in the same way that Hitler was an accomplice to the SS.  Interestingly, this disappointing verdict has once again united the country: Islamists, liberals, and bears (oh my) have once again banded together to protest the corruption of the ruling elite.  Nothing like a common enemy to bring out the best in people.

In other news, the world economy still sucks.  The basic problem seems to be that we live in a globally interconnected world without globally interconnected regulatory systems.  (Don't say that out loud, though: People will accuse you of being a New-World Order leftist like, uh, the first President Bush.)

It turns out that Mitt Romney is a "Star Trek" fan.  Initially, this news worried me, as I feared it might induce certain people--FOS, for instance--to vote for the man.  Then I realized this was unlikely: After all, Romney may be a closet "Trek"-enthusiast (he rejects the "Trekkie" appellation), but Barack Obama is the nation's first Vulcan president.  Finding out Mitt Romney likes "Star Trek," though, does make him harder to hate, until I remember his attitudes toward everything that people who value a decent society hold dear; then I regain my urge to hurl tribbles at the man.

Iraq has increased its oil output tremendously, so much so, in fact, that the international community is cautiously optimistic that stronger sanctions against Iran may not prove as disruptive to world oil supplies.  Commenting on this news, former National Security Advisor and Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice said, "This is welcome news, of course.  Still, I would once again emphasize that increased oil production was never the predominant concern; liberating Iraq from a dictatorial regime and bringing democracy to the Middle East were."  Former Vice President Dick Cheney, in contrast, cackled and exclaimed, "Yahtzee!"

I was also disturbed to hear that, despite the fall of Saddam Hussein, the tradition of state-sanctioned torture continues in Iraq.  At an auction for oil contracts, "An elevator-music rendition of Lionel Richie's 'Hello' played over and over."  Monsters!

The more painkillers are used--and the earlier in treatment they are prescribed--the greater the overall costs to employers.  Hm.  You know, when you see that sentence typed out, you realize that one of the central premises of this article is that if you take more pills and use them for a longer period of time, it will cost more money.  No wonder Times readers are so well-informed!

Finally, the Times provides an interesting discussion of the various controversies and disputes around the Sept. 11 Memorial Museum.  One ongoing debate focused on whether or not to include photographs of the 19 hijackers who crashed planes into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania.  Those opposed claim that this affords the murderers an undeserved honor.  It really doesn't, though.  Photographs of criminals don't celebrate the criminals.  Think of these as mug shots.

What Were You Expecting? Something about Boobies?

So Presidents Obama and W. showed up together at a Ground Zero remembrance.  It's a 9/11 miracle!  Yes, Virginia, there is bipartisanship!

The Solipsist has a couple of friends.  Really!  Anyway, this particular couple of friends is two friends who are a couple.  They've been married 12 years.  Not ABOUT 12 years--exactly 12 years today.  Their cotton anniversary was certainly memorable.  We imagine, though, that there are couples who today are celebrating their tin anniversary against an exponentially more somber backdrop.  (Well, serves 'em right.  Who gets married on a Tuesday?)

Last year, in this space, we provided our own "Where were you when. . .?" story.  While we never say never, we expect this will be our final official observation of this hallowed day.  While we'll never forget, there is a time to relegate things to history, and if even some of those most deeply affected by the 9/11 attacks feel it's time to move on (as reported in today's Times), who are we to argue?

Because ultimately, today is just another day that an arbitrary calendrical system has invested with significance. The significance remains, for better or worse, whether we mark the date or not.  And as our aforementioned friends know, the date can mean so much more.  Thousands of people were born on this date ten years ago; thousands more died in tragedies far more mundane and far less reported than those that occurred on our country's east coast.

We send out our thoughts and worthless agnostic prayers to those who suffered and continue to suffer from the events of this day ten years ago.  We fervently wish that, somehow, we as a nation can recapture some of the communal spirit that surfaced all-too briefly in those frenetic days.  And we turn our attention, finally, to the future.

Rise up.

Then

Where were you when. . . .

I had moved to California from New York in mid-August. Perfect timing, in retrospect. New to California, I was on this fitness kick: No more layers of winter clothes to cover winter (and other season) fat. I had even taken up jogging in the mornings. Alarm went off at 6:00, and I was out the door by 6:05, jogging down the hill to this little market where I would buy a bottle of water to rehydrate me on my way back home.

As I walked into the bedroom, around 6:30, my wife (not WOS--ex-WOS, if you will) told me that two planes had just crashed into the World Trade Center. My first thought, "God, that is terrible flying." It took me about thirty seconds to shake off whatever grogginess still remained. "Oh. . . ."

There was a message on the phone from my father; he must've called while my wife was in the shower: "I don't know if you've got the television on, but it looks like we're at war."

I headed out to work. In the car, I swapped classic rock for news. About five minutes into my drive, Bernard Shaw announced, "The South tower of the World Trade Center. . . has collapsed." Reports kept coming in. The Pentagon had been hit. Another hijacked plane had crashed in Pennsylvania. A bomb had gone off at the State Department. That last one turned out not to be true, but the rumors were flying from all directions.

I got to work. One of my colleagues--another transplanted East Coaster--had called in to say she wasn't coming in. She knew some people who worked in the lower Manhattan. I couldn't help but think that, if we had stayed in New York, my wife--who had worked at an employment agency about five blocks from the towers--would have been in the middle of everything.

When I got home that evening, there was a message from my landlord. She wanted to know if we were OK--if people from our old neighborhood were OK. She knew we were from Queens, but she had a Californian's grasp of New York geography. (Since then, I've learned that the New Yorker's grasp of California geometry is just as spotty: Whenever an earthquake hits the Los Angeles area, my parents invariably ask if I'm all right; I live near Berkeley.)

I didn't know anybody in the towers. I do know people who knew people. Two degrees of separation. While the phone lines were jammed for hours, I managed to get an e-mail out to my mother; somehow she managed to get online and reply. "I'm OK. So sad. So much will never be the same."

(Image from Wikipedia)