a blog for kate and gracie and friends
Happy election day, all!
In honor of the election, I would like to note how much Bear has changed in just eight short months. I know it happens to all of the baby bears, but holy cow is it crazy to see.
Mollybear, March 2, 2012
Mollybear, April 8thish, 2012
Mollybear, May 20, 2012
Mollybear, Early June, 2012
Mollybear, June 24, 2012
Mollybear in July 2012 (maybe)
August 17, 2012
September 2, 2012
October 6, 2012
Mollybear, October 13, 2012
Mollybear & her bestie, Reilly, November 4, 2012
It’s been lonely around this blog lately. I miss you guys.
I just came upon this news, which made me feel old and sad. I remember where I was when I learned he died: in my basement dorm room in Liz Waters Hall. Oh, River. I was never a fan of your extreme veganism,* but I loved you nonetheless.
*I remember an acquaintance making fun of the dreamy actor, declaring, “Don’t eat meat! Do drugs!”
The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel and I have been at odds for some time. While I was pleased and grateful for their help during the Hyatt Smokergate debacle, the way they have handled the issues surrounding Governor Walker’s assault on the State’s public workforce has been irresponsible. If the editorial board wanted to support Walker’s radical positions, that’s obviously their right. But more often than not, the board acted as though nothing all that significant had happened. Thousands of us lost long-standing rights for which others had fought so hard for. We were devastated and the Journal-Sentinel’s repeated assertions that Walker’s kneecapping was no big deal was insulting. And then when the paper reendorsed him in the recall, arguing a recall wasn’t appropriate because the protests just amounted to a “policy dispute,” I just about lost my mind. Goddamnit, a recall is appropriate any time at least 25% of the voters in the last gubernatorial election say it is. See Wis. Const. Art. XIII § 12.
Anyway, given all of that, I didn’t think I could get much more annoyed with the paper. Once again, though, I was wrong. This week, the paper declared it would no longer make political endorsements because to do so would be to put their independence at risk. I don’t even know where to begin my tirade against this braindead statement. Well, let me start here: I do not give a whatwhat whether this ridiculous paper endorses anyone. It makes no difference to me at all. But, to say that a paper puts its independence at risk by evaluating two candidates, assessing their record and choosing to recommend one over the other is offensive. As AO consistently complains, there is no need or desire or – I may argue – place for independence in journalism. Yes, journalists probably should not work for campaigns because there would be an appearance that their reporting was not accurate and was instead merely campaign rhetoric. But I don’t expect any journalist not to have an opinion on what stories are important, what merits coverage and which candidate is better. I don’t understand this emphasis on independence. I think, in the words of the great Vice President Joe Biden, it’s a bunch of malarky.
It reminds me of the great debate over the judiciary. Should judges be able to be a part of a political party? No, say some, citing the need for an independent judiciary. Yes, say others, it’s their first amendment right. Yes, say I, because it would be more honest and transparent. Judges are people who are, like the rest of us non-felonious over-18-ers, allowed to vote. So they pick and choose candidates during every election season, like the rest of us. Why pretend they don’t have opinions? I’d rather know of them up front than mandate they hide them. I honestly don’t really care how they vote, I just want my judges honest, brilliant and compassionate.
Similarly, I don’t really care how the journalists I follow vote. I just want them honest and sharp and persistent. I want them to find me the truth. As I remind you, Dear Reader, that Errol Morris often reminds us, there is a truth. It is not leftist or right-wing, it is not progressive or conservative. It just is. And it’s the job of the journalist to find it and tell us about it.
And it’s the job of an editorial board to take that truth and make a choice. I think the Journal-Sentinel’s choice not to do so in the name of independence is both disingenuous and cowardly.
Gwennie and I had lunch today at a newish Italian restaurant, Naples 15, which is located in the building that houses Capital Fitness and Elevation Spa. It is in the same place that has housed numerous restaurants and coffee shops over the years: Espresso Royale, Caffe Porta Alba, Old Market Bistro, and Las Cazuelas, to name a few. I was intrigued by the place because it promised truly Neapolitan pizza and who can resist that? Plus, Gwennie and I had been scheduling and rescheduling a lunch date for weeks now and we settled upon today. The hitch, though, was that I had a haircut appointment at Elevation at 12. So, I suggested we check out Naples 15 at 11 so we could lunch and then I could pop upstairs for a haircut. Gwennie, who is usually up for exciting adventures like these (yes, I count trying a new restaurant as an adventure), willingly agreed.
The decor was mostly fine, but I found the large cards with jesters on them affixed with tape to the otherwise pretty wood floor a little odd and Gwennie objected to the stemless daisies floating in water in martini glasses on our table. We were early, it being only shortly after 11 am, and were seated by the nice Italian man whom I presume is the owner. He told us our waitress would in shortly and she was. And this was when the adventure really got going. I ordered one of the two margherita pizzas (the difference being in the type of mozzarella, I think) and said, innocently, “Could I get garlic on that, please?” The waitress said, “Garlic?” “Yes, please.” The waitress said, very seriously, “I’ll see if we have any.”
I’ll see if we have any. Garlic. At a restaurant. At an Italian restaurant. At a Neapolitan Italian restaurant.
Well, it turns out I was in luck. They had garlic! And they also served one of the best Italian pizzas I’ve had since returning from Italy. Total, complete yumsville. Gwennie said her pizza was delish, too. She had some number with sausage, mozzarella and friarielli. Gwen is such a bold adventurer she ordered the pizza before the Google search told us friarielli is the Neapolitan term for broccoli rabe. I would never have been able to pull of that feat.
While we were enjoying the tasty fare, Gwen decided she wanted a club soda. She asked the waitress for one. The waitress looked a little puzzled, left and returned saying, “We don’t have club soda.” I looked up at the full bar and scratched my head. Oh well, at least they had garlic.
I was thinking I needed to change the heading, but I didn’t mean to lose it altogether. Stay with me, Dear Reader, as I try to navigate the complex world of WordPress to try to get you a new, fresh look with the same old, boring content.
