Broken windows, broken-into cars

The New Neo Posted on by

Last Wednesday I drove to New York City to be with my family for Thanksgiving.

Even though it’s ordinarily one of the worst days for traveling, I was pleasantly surprised to experience traffic that was hardly any worse than usual. Thanksgiving itself went well, and after driving my 96-year-old aunt and 97-year-old mother back to their respective residences, I had the good fortune to find a parking space not far from my brother’s place in the well-lit, pleasant, peaceful, trendy-yet-family-oriented neighborhood where he lives.

Sounds good, right? And it was, it was—except that the next afternoon, when I went to get my car, I found the back driver’s-side window smashed and a gaping hole in the steering wheel, my introduction to the new (to me) and apparently quite popular crime of airbag theft.

Yes folks, airbag theft. It can be done quickly by an expert, in under two minutes (isn’t human ingenuity wonderful?). And although it’s new to me, it’s actually been going on for at least fifteen years (see two articles from the mid-90s, here and here). New York is a leader in this, as in so many hot trends.

The following was written in 1996, but it’s still true. Just adjust the prices upward for 2011 and you’ve got the picture:

The crime [of airbag theft] is lucrative.

Thieves can sell the unexploded, Frisbee-sized devices for between $50 and $200 to unscrupulous body shop operators, who install them in collision-damaged cars, and collect from $400 to $1,200 from insurance companies, according to Insurance Crime Bureau statistics. Add on labor costs and the total payout can climb to $2,000.

“Some people, in theory, might be buying back their own air bags,” said Barbara Rambo, an Insurance Crime Bureau special agent based in Chicago’s south suburbs.

Although it happened to me on the Friday of Thanksgiving weekend and no one was going to touch the car until today at the earliest, I felt the need to get it and its gaping wounds off the street. So I drove it to the body shop.

I have a high level of trust in the one I’m using, but before I got there I joked to a friend that the body shop probably runs the airbag theft ring and would be installing my very own (recycled!) airbag for a pretty penny. When I made that quip that I thought I was just being funny, but apparently that’s precisely what happens with some shadier body shops.

Even though in the scheme of things the whole thing is really just a minor inconvenience, and I’ll probably “only” have to pay the deductible, there’s something shocking and wrenching about coming upon one’s violated car (my relatively new car, at that, even though I bought it used).

At first it’s hard to believe one’s eyes. It seems as though the window’s only been left open. But the little bits of glass all around the perimeter of the place where the window used to be, and the shards—with smoothed and rounded edges, due to the special nature of automobile glass—that pepper the entire back seat, floor, and even the front seats of the car, tell the tale almost as clearly as the dangling wires in the hollow of the gouged-out steering wheel.

Did my car alarm go off? Don’t know. It turns out that car alarms are not always set to activate when windows are smashed, as thieves no doubt are aware. But even if it did go off, people tend to ignore the sound, and anyway it doesn’t go on forever.

[NOTE: The title of this post is a reference to this concept.]

You won’t have Barney Frank…

The New Neo Posted on by

…to kick around any more:

A top adviser told the Globe that the new district in which Frank would have had to run next year was a major factor in his decision. While it retained his Newton stronghold, it was revised to encompass more conservative towns like Walpole while losing New Bedford, a blue-collar city where the Democrat had invested a lot of time and become a leading figure in the region’s fisheries debate.

Frank’s campaign manager last year said his withering 2010 re-election effort spurred the congressman to think seriously about retirement, even saying a few days after the election that it would be his last one…

Sowyrda said Frank wanted to hold off on a decision until the redistricting process was finalized.

“When Barney saw the district changed, his exact words to me were ”˜They didn’t do me any favors,’” said Sowyrda, who has remained an unofficial adviser.

Serfs v slaves

The New Neo Posted on by

I’ve been slowly reading Paul Johnson’s The Birth of the Modern: World Society 1815-1830. Don’t let the dry dull title or its length put you off; it’s wide-ranging and has something of interest (and something I didn’t previously know) on every page, perhaps in every paragraph.

Here’s a little sample, involving the Russian institution of serfdom. Think you know about it? Think again—and while you’re thinking, contemplate how important this history was for the rise of communism in Russia:

In the early 19th century the systems of slavery in the Americas and of serfdom in Russia were often compared because both were growing rapidly. In west and central Europe, serfdom had declined rapidly from the 15th century onwards, and was extinct in any recognizable form by 1800. But in Russia it had actually expanded…

…[T]he [Russian] state disliked slaves, whom it could not tax, and helped to stamp them out, while promoting serfdom, which brought in revenue. In practice however it farmed out the serfs to their landlords, who made themselves responsible for their taxes. This practice increased the landlords’ power over the serfs and was convenient to the state, which collected its taxes more easily…

It is at this point that the difference between unfree labor in Russia and in the Americas becomes of overwhelming importance. In the United States, for instance, the slave was an unfree being living in the midst of citizens with full rights, rather like in ancient Athens. In Russia, by contrast, the serfs simply formed one category of people in a servile system which allowed no one whatever to dispose freely of his time or his belongings. Neither freehold land nor personal rights, in the Western sense, had any meaning in Russia. It was what Thomas Hobbes called a “Patrimonial Monarchy,”…in which the autocrat, or the state he personally embodied, disposed of all resources, human or material. Such concepts as individual rights and liberties, the rule of law, the limitations on the exercise of authority simply did not exit. Peasant serfdom was therefore merely the most visible and widespread form of bondage…

Everyone had to yield the state either services or money, or both, at a certain place, where it was due…If you moved to evade it, you were manhunted, whether you were a city dweller or a peasant. Not only was it your duty to pay; it was also your duty to denounce those who did not pay. Denunciation was, in practice, the only way a peasant could effectively act against a landlord. Failure to denounce, whether for nonpayment or any other crime against the state, such as conspiracy, was itself ranked as “treason,” and the entire family was implicated in the traitor’s guilt. In practice however, all did denounce because neighbors had to make good the losses suffered by the state when one of them absconded. Thus shopkeepers, merchants and dealers watched each other carefully…

The serfs were merely the least free members of a servile society in which no one except the Tsar himself was truly free. The frontiers were always sealed. To go abroad, you had to obtain, by petition to the Tsar, a proezzhaia gramota. If a merchant traveled without one, his property was confiscated and his relatives were liable to be tortured to find out why he did it and sent to Siberia…Foreigners, too, required an entry visa and were not generally welcome. If they looked at things too closely, they were treated as spies—one reason why there are so few drawings of Russia in this period. Russians were forbidden to make unauthorized contact with foreign visitors. Only in 1703 did foreign or domestic news cease to be a state secret in Russia, and thereafter both remained in meager supply.

When slaves in the US were freed, it was a long and shaky process to full participation in society. But at least there was a society that valued liberty into which they could ultimately be assimilated.

No such thing was available to the serfs. Is it any wonder that Communism took hold in Russia, with a people so unused to having any rights, and so accustomed to policing and informing on each other?

Ruth Marcus can’t excuse Obama, although that doesn’t stop her from trying

The New Neo Posted on by

Most of Obama’s cheerleaders lost energy for that enterprise quite some time ago. Now their efforts seem limited to attacking the Republicans who might oppose him.

For example, liberal Ruth Marcus of the WaPo is clearly running out of steam, as evidenced by this tepid effort, in which she’s reduced to saying something like, “Even though Obama has shown no leadership at all, and seems to have wanted the budget negotiations to fail so that he can blame Congress, in addition to previously having ignored the recommendations of his very own Simpson-Bowles committee, we shouldn’t blame him because, because…because…because Republicans are worse.”

One of the hallmarks of the Obama administration has been the combination of his own tendency to blame others—unprecedented (in my lifetime, anyway) in a president of any political persuasion—and the tendency of his supporters and the MSM (is that redundant?) to cooperate in blaming others and exonerating him. Over time that’s faded, but not entirely by any means, and Marcus is an example of its feeble remnants.

This tendency to excuse himself was one of the earliest things I noticed about Obama. In what I believe may have been the very first post I ever wrote about him, written in May of 2007, I said:

…[Obama demonstrates] a willingness to offer up excuses too easily. It’s okay for a Presidential candidate (or President) to be tired, but I’m not so sure he should be so eager to excuse himself on that score. I’ve often thought that, if the campaign is a grueling marathon, it’s probably a (pardon the phrase) cakewalk compared to the actual Presidency…

No excuses, although of course Presidents make mistakes. But, as Harry Truman said, “The buck stops here” for the President””and for the Presidential candidates.

But that was never true for Obama. And although it helped him get elected, ultimately the press did him no favor by cooperating in his excuse-making. It has allowed him to reach his present state, in which he’s managed to alienate a huge percentage of his own supporters.

Of course, he may end up getting elected anyway. But Obama has squandered (perhaps permanently?) the immense goodwill and enthusiasm with which so many Americans regarded him for so long.

Spambot of the day

The New Neo Posted on by

This one came with an Ugg boots URL. It was nowhere near this short in its full manifestation; the following is merely an excerpt. The original went on for at least thirty more lines, all of it nonsense but all of it consisting of pronounceable English-type syllables.

As you can see, it contains a few “words” that are surprisingly Jabberwocky-like and really quite fun, such as “dibwicky” and “jubaps” in the first and second lines (at least, that’s where they appear in the font size I normally use). I’m also quite partial to line 4’s “wracle” (a wrathful cackle, minus the “k”?) and the evocative “Potrolo Fate” in line 4, as well as the “Nopsmease” that ends this particular segment and sounds to me like an ancient herbal remedy.

ncutlecess immeddyslully Absolo ulcerty dibwicky Hawnblearmler, Bog Theltyinammala romy Fluola squally jubaps. faboumn Felltona pync Daurse som SoivaLon Grorvose Wreneurencielo AtmomSistaquam nonlisgugsloM Stow Stuptcrurness wracle TirlgoasTejall inhickycaby Potrolo Fate Trigbeibia SormaSereLam, StetleCher Gat Neatte voli fluriblybulty GragreeSog furobrirub. Wats doftAffoftCada Opine stanignaslergo RhydayChade elakCemeonetty WicIllulkykiz inwano plulkFask SteaniGrielit Gairlbeile ApemsFex Tece courry Dahadviggini utebmareelm Sygiepe, Vem TypecafEmattmet dredtake Invornerem mypory bern estiveBiopicom Nopsmease…

Post-Thanksgiving post

The New Neo Posted on by

Well, it’s over—and all that’s left are the leftovers, the memories, the extra poundage, and the recipes.

This dessert was one of the stars of yesterday’s meal at my family’s celebration:

Recipe: Cranberry Tart

Adapted from “Dolce Italiano: Desserts From the Babbo Kitchen,” by Gina DePalma (W. W. Norton, 2007)

Time: 2 hours plus 1 hour’s chilling

1 1/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 cup instant or fine polenta
1 3/4 cups sugar
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
Freshly grated zest of 1 lemon
4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, diced
1 large egg plus 3 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup light corn syrup
3 cups (12-ounce bag) fresh cranberries, picked over
1/2 cup heavy cream
Confectioners’ sugar, optional.

1. Place 1 1/4 cups flour, polenta, 1 cup sugar, 1 teaspoon salt and lemon zest in a food processor and process to blend. Add butter and pulse until mixture resembles coarse sand. In a small bowl, beat whole egg with oil and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Uncover processor, pour in liquid ingredients and pulse until a ball of dough forms. This may take 20 or more quick pulses. If necessary, sprinkle in a little water if mixture does not come together. Form dough into a disk and wrap in plastic. Chill at least 1 hour.

2. In a 3-quart saucepan, melt remaining sugar over low heat. Stir in syrup and bring to a boil. Add cranberries and cook, stirring, about 2 minutes, until they begin to release juice. Remove to a bowl and allow to cool about 20 minutes.

3. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Roll out dough to an 12-inch circle and fit into a 10-inch loose-bottom tart pan. If dough tears, it can easily be pressed together.

4. In a bowl, whisk together cream and 2 tablespoons flour. Whisk in three egg yolks, remaining vanilla and a pinch of salt. Pour over cranberries and fold together. Pour into tart shell, place pan on a baking sheet and bake about 40 minutes, until filling bubbles but is not yet firm, and pastry browns. Cool in pan before removing sides; if desired, dust with confectioners’ sugar.

Yield: 10 to 12 servings.

And for those of you who asked: no, the photo I posted yesterday of a Thanksgiving meal was not of mine, it was just a stock photo. But here’s a photo of our meal yesterday (none of which I cooked). It featured, among other things: a regular and a wild turkey (the latter shot by my brother after several years of hot pursuit); two kinds of stuffing; brussel sprouts with bacon; braised fennel with Parmesen; roast cauliflower with mustard-lemon sauce; braised chard with almonds and raisins; mashed potatoes with celery root and wild mushrooms; beet salad; sauerkraut with white wine; cranberry chutney with walnuts, raisins, and apples; gravy; sweet potatoes with brown sugar and lemon; salad with radishes, blue cheese, and pomegranate seeds; blueberry pie, apple pie, pumpkin pie, tiramisu—and, of course, the above cranberry tart.

In case you think that was a lot of food, it was. But there were also a lot of people there.

Ninety is the new eighty

The New Neo Posted on by

Yesterday at my family’s Thanksgiving dinner in New York we had over twenty people, and two of them—my mother and my aunt—are over 90.

Not only are they over 90, but they’re over 95. My mother is 97 but not far from 98, and my aunt is 96. And this is true despite the fact that they’re not blood relatives, they’re sisters-in-law. They each were widowed quite some time ago and then had another man in their life for a few years who died quite some time ago, too. They each have some problems that require using walkers and hearing aids. They each have gotten very thin and don’t eat much anymore. But they’re each doing pretty well, especially considering all the possibilities.

They’re outliers. But it’s not anywhere near as unusual as it used to be for people to live to be ninety these days, as this article relates. This is especially true of women:

At ages 85 to 89, there is about one man for every two women; by 95 to 99, and 100 and older, there is about one man for every four women.

My mother and my aunt are also typical in their single status:

About half the [90-plus] men are widowers and a whopping 43% are married while 84% of women are widows and a mere 6% are married.

Extreme old age is most definitely not for sissies, from what I’ve seen of it, and I’ve seen quite a bit. And you better get ready to see a lot more of it:

In addition to growing in numbers, the 90-plus population has also increased as a proportion of the older population (aged 65 and over), up from 2.8% of the older population in 1980 to 4.7% in 2010, and it is expected to reach 9.9% in 2050.

I am not interested…

The New Neo Posted on by

…in shopping on Black Friday.

Are you?

And this sounds like a nightmare. Although shopping on Black Friday already sounded like a nightmare.

…Except of course for shopping online, at Amazon, through the neo-neocon portal (note how I cleverly snuck in that little advertisement for myself).

Romney’s distinctive hair

The New Neo Posted on by

Here’s a distinctive article about how Mitt Romney’s hair is his most distinctive feature:

By far his most distinctive physical feature, Mr. Romney’s head of impeccably coiffed black hair has become something of a cosmetological Rorschach test on the campaign trail, with many seeing in his thick locks everything they love and loathe about the Republican candidate for the White House. (Commanding, reassuring, presidential, crow fans; too stiff, too slick, too perfect, complain critics.)

It may be his most distinctive feature, but not distinctive enough for me. In fact, I never really noticed it before.

I think Romney’s most distinctive feature is his lack of distinctive features. His most distinctive feature is a handsomeness that looks like a computer-generated amalgam of handsome men, creating a generically handsome man of a certain age.

Cook that bird

The New Neo Posted on by

[NOTE: This is a repeat of an old post.]

The big day is tomorrow. As usual, there are many pointers on how best to cook that bird.

I have a simple method: it almost doesn’t matter. Just get a good turkey and the rest will follow. A bird will be dry or moist, tasty or bland, depending on its nature more than on the cooking method you use.

Within reason, of course. The principle holds true as long as you cook it according to any of the generally accepted, tried and true methods. I’ve used somewhat lower longer heat and somewhat higher shorter heat, basted it more and basted it less, covered it with cheesecloth or not, and haven’t noticed any patterns—except that, since you bathe it in gravy and cranberry sauce anyway before you eat it, even a piece of bland dry turkey meat ends up tasting not so bad in the end.

The whole point is really the rest of the food, isn’t it? I’m a sweet-potato-sans-marshmallow gal, as well as a proponent of the pumpkin-pie-can-be-easily-dispensed-with school. Pecan pie, on the other hand, is a must-have, despite the fact that it packs in about 1,000 calories a bite.