Dream Job

My friend Brian Donohue maintains a politically left centric, intelligista blog titled Daily Revolution. In it you will find not only cogent views on politics, news and mankind, but also on the more esoteric - such as I Ching, therapist cats and the realm of Harry Potter. Check out Brian's book - The Tao of Hogwarts.

Always a rollicking good read, I was especially enthused to find this link to an Ode article titled The Boss Who Breaks All the Rules. The boss refers to Richardo Semler, the owner of a $212 million dollar company encourages employees to set their hours, determine their salaries and choose their bosses.

Here are a few of his tips:

• Let employees determine everything themselves: their salaries, their working hours, their managers.
• Let go of control to stimulate creativity.
• Regularly take a break from work when you are unreachable for a period of time.
• Read classic literature instead of management books.

The Purple Bike

I used to own a purple bike with a banana seat and a white basket glued with brightly colored flowers. It was my second first bike. My first bicycle was actually my grandfather's and with it I proved that one CAN forget how to ride a bike. I learned to ride at the age of 4 in Pune, India. Then when my parents migrated to India I got my second bike, only to realize that I forgot how to ride it. If I think about it the bike laid the foundation for my new life in America. For suddenly I seemed to have forgotten things my body already knew. Like how to stand in front of a room full of strange children. How to sing the books of the Old Testament. How to be comfortable with my skin for all of a sudden everyone around me was uncomfortable with it.

Somehow I had convinced myself that the secret to bike riding was to balance on two wheels. My brother disabused me of this notion upon watching my disastrous attempts. "You have to move. There is no balance without movement." Ah. Of course it would take a future Nuclear Engineer to drive that point home. More importantly, a big brother. I finally ditched the balancing act and pedaled forward, which of course brought me to movement and yes, balance. Let's hope you don't make the same mistake as me and forget how to ride a bike. But if you do, remember: There is no balance without movement.

Britney Wigs Out

While I'm not one to ponder on celebrity shennanigans, I must admit I did watch the weekend's newsclips of Britney Spears and her shaved head with a sense of inevitability. We've all known her ascent to stardom could only be eclipsed by her descent into self destruction, or worse, mediocrity. And she didn't disappoint. So what is this fascination with celebrities by our culture? Author of Fame Junkies Jake Halpern says fame is addictive. I haven't read the book yet so I can't tell you why. But when I do rest assured I will share.

But in the meantime, can I point out that if we spent as much time acting to save the Amazon forests or helping to reverse the effects of global warming or doing something about the million plus animals that will be euthanized this year as we do filling our heads with news about Britney and Anna Nicole, we might just achieve something. But then there's the rub, to reverse destruction you have to act first. Whereas to entertain your mind, albeit for the briefest of moments, only takes one click of the remote control to E!

The Ravishing Raptors

Today PBS debuted a special titled Nature: Raptor Force. Sounds like a military type of show but happily it's not. It's the study of the aeronautic capabilities of those magnificent birds of prey labeled raptors - Hawks, Eagles, Falcons, Owls. The birds themselves are gorgeous - sleek heads, keen large eyes, perfectly sharpened and groomed talons and beak, wings that can reach spans exceeding 6 feet.

While I've seen Turkey Buzzards circling the Turnpike, I've never had the pleasure of watching the fastest creature on earth in action. Recorded at the speed of 242 miles per hour, (wrap your head around that!) the Peregrine Falcon is the most exquisite flying machine on earth. We've all heard about Pale Male and his perch on the upper East side. What I didn't know was that a pair of Peregrine's set up house atop of an office building in Jersey City. So you can imagine my surprise when, on my way to work I would pass by the shredded remains of pigeons. A beak here, a lacerated wing there, bone, feathers...Well you get the picture. This preceded the bird flu threat but I still notified the office maintenance folks. I mean how icky is it to have to view dismembered bird parts? Then a co-worker mentioned that a pair of Peregrine's were nesting atop the building and all became clear. At 30 stories, 101 Hudson Avenue in Jersey City used to carry the prestige of being the tallest building in New Jersey. This lasted until the 1990s when Paulus Hook, the once blue collar burg of Jersey City boomed into gentrified heaven.

It might not be the tallest building in New Jersey, but it's tall enough for the Peregrines who chose to roost in the ledges of skyscrapers and towers of suspension bridges. After discovery of the Peregrines, I've stopped worrying about the pigeons. Surely I do feel bad for their deaths. But what a glorious death! My only lament is that I have not viewed the Peregrine's in action.

PBS will be broadcasting the Raptor special again on Wed, February 21st.

My friend Andy Warren recently published a book of photography on this very superb creature. You can view his art and order it here.

Thanks to Ben for correcting me on Pale Male's location. Which is not CP South but 74th and 5th Ave.

Woebegone the Valentine

The cosmos was really screwing with us mortals this week, laying a path of twisted, squares, conjunctions and retrogrades. While Valentines day should have been a warm break from the sub-freezing temperatures and freakish snow-sleet storms, it was instead incredibly emotional, bafflingly unpredictable. The Daykeeper describes this week as "overly moody... sassy and compelled to do exactly the opposite of what anyone expects." No kidding.

So perhaps your Valentine's Day was fraught with grief and unsavory relevations as my friend Athena faced. Or perhaps it was thwarted by weather - ice, slick roads, ferocious winds. Perhaps you were like me, overcome with emotions, and shot your mouth off like a racehorse at the track. Or perhaps you were one of the lucky ones and nestled with your honey despite the raging cosmic and meterological storms. We should all be so lucky.

Enviro Corp Friendly

Not so happy these days with my company's environmental policy. While the company I work for shall go nameless, I will tell you that it goes by the acronym AIG. Big solid company with over a hundred years of history. 600 billion dollars in assets and a big ass Manchester United deal sucking up real estate on t-shirts, stadiums and publications everywhere.

One thing's got me peeved. I've been noticing something disturbing as I head for my cup of hot coffee in the morning (as I am want to do given the take-this!global-warming-winter-temperatures-of-15-below-zero). No it's not the coffee which is actually quite decently dispensed in individual quantities of java ranging from mild decaf to raging French roast. Nor is it the availabilty of thick creamy half and half, also available in the well stocked refrigerator. No, it's the manner of cups available to the employees. Not recycled paper, not even just paper but horror of horrors, it's styrofoam! Yes, it's true a global enterprise corporation dispenses an non-biodegradable material in mass quantities. Now I just happen to know that DOW is the company that created 'extruded polystyrene thermal insulation' aka the satanic material. So I checked to see if AIG happens to own DOW, which they do not. However, the kind folks at Wikipedia tell me that it can be recycled if it's labeled correctly. It not, it could take 1 to 100 years to decompose.

Ah, well that clears it all up.

So to prove my defiance at such a non green policy I've boycotted the evil extruded polystuffie. In lieu of contributing to New Jersey's finest landfills I've decided on a positive action. ok, so it's a soft action that consists of using my own ceramic mug for my coffee fix, and occassionally, hissing at unsuspecting folks that continue to fill the strofoam with the devils brew. It's worked pretty well thus far, swelling me with a sense of purpose as I sip my damn good cuppa joe out of my very own ceramic mug. Next I'm thinking of pouncing on the chick on the 6th floor, sporting a winter Lynx fur coal with a green Sharpie.

Blogging the Bible

Really loving David Plotz's ongoing offerings to Slate - Blogging the Bible. This week was particularly a doozy. The Bible's Worst Marriage. You'll be surprised to hear 'the marriage' is between God and Israel. Yikes!

Why Football is Important

You might be like me and have friends who decry sports - and football in particular as a complete waste of time. "There's really no point to the game," notes my friend Sue. "The guys talk for a few minutes then a few minutes later everyone falls on top of one guy. Nothing ever happens." I completely disagree. Sure it does seem that there's a lot of planning and not a lot of action but that might just be the point. When men gather to strategize they use their bodies, their minds, their passion. Sometimes a remarkable play does occur and the quarterback hurls the ball with beauty and precision. Or a running back breaks past the ranks of men and breaks free to score. Again, strategy, action, passion.

I think football and organized sports are vital to men. Here's why, if they didn't use their minds and bodies on these activities, their need for motion and emotion would have no vent. Instead of channeling their energy into a game they would seek some outlet, and I'm guessing it would not be an innocuous one. Most modern countries have organized sports - football in the USA, soccer in the most Eastern and European countries. Now look at areas that don't have organized sports. Let's say, oh, the Middle East. Let me pose a question. If these guys were so busy playing, betting on or watching sports do you think they would have time to blow up the bookstore or cafe. If they exhausted themselves engaging in sports they might not have the energy or anger to vent towards each other.

Sports and violence do go together but you can't take away what is natural to the male. Action, movement, decision, these are all within the realm of the masculine, as much as emotional, expressive and nurturing are aspects of the feminine. So to all those who decry football as violent or worse, stupid take heed. I'd rather have my men warring on a football field than in a military zone.