Yes, DO cry over spilt oil

Here is a visualization of the Gulf oil spill on a Google map of the area:

Even with that map, it is hard to understand just how big the spill is, so here is the same visualization of it If It Was My Home* of Hartford, Connecticut -- pretty much wiping out the entire area between Boston and New York City:

Ironically, if it were a land-based spill, it would not have gotten this big, as it would have been more easily contained. It’s 48 days later, over 400 species of animals have been affected, and over 40 million gallons of oil have gushed forth. Tar is already washing up on beaches in Alabama, Florida and Louisiana. If you have never stepped in tar-sand, let me tell you it does not wash off easily, you basically have to scrape it off your skin with a paint scraper. Unless you are a duck, egret, or seal, then you have to hope someone catches you and gives you a bath in Dawn dish detergent. If you are a fish, tough luck, you will suffocate. Experts say it is only a matter of time before the slick gets caught in the Gulf current and works its way up the East Coast and then farther east to Bermuda and Europe.

I encourage you to put a map of the slick over your town on your blog, to help more people understand how big it is (you will have to do a screencap to get the picture).

*Grammatically speaking that should say “If It Were My Home” but let’s not get picky, the guy wrote a program that can put the spill on a map anywhere in the world, ‘k?

Vegan is the new "faux"

On Tuesday I fed my handbag obsession with a little retail therapy. I knew from the price point that this bag wasn't real leather, but did not expect to see this spin on it:

Croc-a-doodle-doo

Maybe you like them and maybe you wear them and maybe to you they are the greatest thing since sliced bread, but I personally detest Crocs and all the ubiquitous knockoffs, pseudos and wannabes. I detest them with the heat of a thousand melted plastic injection mold forms.

But these are cute and un-Croc-ey enough that if I were to somehow acquire them, and if they didn’t gross me out in person too much, I'd find a way to remove the logo. Perhaps with a metal file and a small blowtorch, like the kind you use for creme brulee.

Corn: It's What's For Dinner

I both cannot wait -- yet am scared to death -- to see this documentary.



From the movie, quoted in Roger Ebert's review: "Corn, in fact, is an ingredient in 80 percent of supermarket products, including batteries and Splenda. Processing concentrates it. You couldn't eat enough corn kernels in a day to equal the number of calories in a bag of corn chips."

This is what America is all about right? Little business grows into big business. Bigger, faster, cheaper, better. But at what cost? In a nation that idolizes the thin yet is overrun with obesity, why do we make it so hard for the average family to buy good, healthy food without going broke?

More of Ebert's review here, and Ann Hornaday's review here. I don't think I'll be getting popcorn at this movie.

I'm sorry sir, your baby is ugly

We are fortunate to have in Our Fair City of Hartford the country's oldest public art museum, a treasure chest of masterworks by everyone from Caravaggio to Mondrian to the most recent (as in "last week") acquisition, Slightly Open Clam Shell by Georgia O'Keefe. The museum's castle-like facade, complete with battlements and leaded glass, is often festooned with enormous banners advertising the latest exhibition, usually with a close-up of one of the artworks, to entice one to come in. Or, in the case of Folkert de Jong in Watou, to totally creep one out. To wit:

{Folkert de Jong in Watou, from the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art.}

Creepy, right? Good morning Mr. MeltyFace. You know what is even creepier? The sculptures are life size or larger. Enormous. 8 -10 feet tall. They are made of Styrofoam and polyurethane, materials chosen specifically for their manipulative qualities as for their significance as elements of war, impermeability and toxicity. The figures depict a David and Goliath-like representation of Spain vs The Netherlands during the Eighty Years War that began in the 16th century. I understand the use of the grotesque in art. Compelling, historical stuff, a la Picasso's Guernica. But I could not stop thinking:

Here is another one, with a great dental plan.

{kunstwerk van Folkert de Jong in Watou, (say that three times fast) originally uploaded by mjiwill}

Zombie letterpress sign from Yeehaw, found via Good Mouse, Bad Mouse

Lights on, no one home

{IMG_0714, originally uploaded by mohitontherocks}

For a week now, I've been getting up before the crack of dawn and going for a brisk nearly-one-hour walk with my neighbor, the lovely Meghan of Ladies In Waiting. Her sweet teddy of a goldendoodle, Boddington (aka The Bods) accompanies us and, ahem, "protects" us from any unsavory characters. I should preface this by saying that Meghan is a morning person of the highest caliber. The Bods and I are not (Meghan's partner Mo is not either. She's the smart one, home in bed, sleeping). But once we get to walkin' and talkin' (and boy, can we talk!), I'm fully awake and before you know it we have circumnavigated Downtown Hartford and are home-again, home-again.

It's mighty dark at 6:00 am, and will be until daylight savings starts/ends (I can never remember which it is) in two weeks. In between our incessant talking we've noticed that the city has quite a life of its own at that hour. As the sky (very) slowly lightens, a steady stream of traffic starts coming over the bridges from suburbia, and we've remarked on how ungodly early some people head in to their office jobs. It took only three days for us to become "regulars" on our route, greeted amiably by dog-walkers at the new apartments on Temple St., the corporate cafeteria cooks out for a smoke behind one of the insurance companies, and the construction workers headed for the soon-to-be-finished science museum.

One thing about these walks that really, really bothers us is that in some of the office towers, all the lights are on. All the lights. On. All night. I can see it from my apartment before I go to bed, if I get up in the middle of the night, and when I wake up at 5:45. No matter the hour, every light in these buildings is a-blazing. Yeah, yeah, they're fluorescents and CFLs, so what. Why are they on? No one is there. Even the cleaning people are long gone. How much money are they spending on electricity? Sure, it looks pretty, in a "the city never sleeps" kind of way, but in this day and age, is this really the best use of their money and our resources? Make that our money -- Hartford is an insurance and finance town, and some of these companies were recently bailed out by Our Tax Dollars, so technically that's my money and your money that they are wasting.

I'm tempted to call them up and tell them to turn the lights off. How do you think that would go over?