January 2008


Final photo posting from Florida; these are from Bradenton’s Red Barn flea market.

In addition to the crazy-awesome barnside mural, we saw huckster tactics aimed at those fearing a recession ….


(Sign reads “Depressed by the recession/Relax with a good book or C/D”)

… as well as inappropriate black-face magnets for the bargain price of $1 (I suppose that while we red-blooded Americans fear the fall of the almighty dollar, we’re always game for a bit of insensitive racial politicking).

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One of my favorite places in Delhi is a small shop tucked into Lodhi Colony’s Khanna Market; the man there sells all manner of coffee and tea, including hard-to-find (in the subconty) brews like genmaicha. But even though the proprietor cordially chats as he has someone grind fresh beans just as you like them, the best part of the place hands down is the large framed posters on the wall of what appear to be vintage ads from the Coffee Board of India.

The image I’ve posted here is from the Coffee Board’s Web site, but for the life of me I can’t find any other of these gems. Anyone got a hot lead?

Lonely in America

HBO is premiering In Treatment tonight, but for my money, pop culture best explored psychiatry in Comedy Central’s Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist. Early reviews aren’t promising — here’s a slice of Slate’s take:

Adapted from an Israeli drama titled BeTipul, In Treatment (HBO, weeknights at 9:30 p.m. ET) follows Paul Weston, a psychotherapist played by Gabriel Byrne with the kind of conviction that can only come from an actor faced with ambitious hogwash. The show’s controlling gimmick dictates that it will air nightly for the next nine weeks, with Paul keeping regular appointments with the same patients each night of the week, except for Fridays, when he goes to see Dianne Wiest’s Dr. Toll, the Kupferberg to his Melfi. His nonadventures straddle the realms of the scarcely credible and the incredibly boring.

Another recent show exploiting the fragile mental state of fellow man is Celebrity Rehab. Must we, really, ogle people going through withdrawal? Is it really so fascinating to listen to their stories of broken homes, broken lives, and feed into their vainglorious attempts for one more shot at fame, succeeding only in pandering to the lowest common denominator?

An MP in the U.K. has called for the introduction of tea trolleys — manned by a bevy of beautiful young ladies, natch — at airports as a salve for weary travelers.

The managing director for Waitrose, who also supports the idea, said, “I do a lot of foreign travel and I have been progressively disappointed with how poor it feels when you return home. The whole experience is pretty bleak. I thought wouldn’t it be nice if, when you arrived in the UK, you were greeted with a nice cup of tea.”

But for the concomitant sexism, I’d say it’s not a half-bad notion.

Despite a late-breaking sty (thus adding to my growing list of travel ailments, which includes giardia, a bacterial infection on my lip, and countless episodes of sun stroke), we managed to eke a bit of fun out of our whirlwind trip to visit the in-laws in Bradenton, Florida.

Being deathly pale, I made sure to wear a T-shirt, capris, and thick sunblock, but others at the beach seemed nonplussed by the dangers of skin cancer. Alas, their foolhardiness is surprisingly picturesque,

While in Bradenton, I developed an unnatural obsession with birds. I donno; sometimes I’m like that. As such, you are now privy to some of my pictures (including, of course, some poor amateur Photoshopping).

 

For the rest of my myriad shots … –> The Birds!

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