Surprise!

Something that tends to irk me is newspaper articles that act like you don't know what they're about, despite headlines and photos above them. The author tries to work in a cute "surprise" a few paragraphs in:

The hottest new abstract artist in town has reason to celebrate.

This summer, she went from selling her work in a coffee shop to having her own gallery show.

After a local newspaper's feature on her, about 2,000 people came for opening night - everyone from serious collectors to the artist's preschool teacher. She earned more money than she could comprehend. The gallery owner said it was his most successful show ever and scheduled a second one for October.

Then comes the big "revelation":

So celebrate, the artist did. [Yuck.] During a recent visit, she climbed on a big bouncing ball shaped like a frog, grabbed the handles and bounced around the house with laughter pealing and pigtails flying.

The artist is Marla Olmstead. She is 4.

Oh, wow! What a cute opening! It would have been cuter if there hadn't been a huge photo of a four-year old girl with her "art" and the headline "4-Year-Old Paints With Flair".

As my quotes around "art" demonstrate, I have one more pet peeve with this piece: In a two-page spread and thirty paragraphs, there's not a hint that anyone might think this is, as Rush Limbaugh would say, Barbra Streisand. Six thousand bucks for the meaningless scribblings (I doubt named by the "artist," by the way, the article notwithstanding) of a four year old? Jeez.

My first letter to Daniel Okrent

You know, your reactions to news of a bombing in Israel change drastically once you have a sibling living there.

Anyway, my letter to Mr. Okrent concerned this editorial. On consideration, I'm not so sure I even agree with the content of the piece- it may be bad taste to market this stuff, but the guy has a right to do it; furthermore, people just won't donate money as easily as when there's a goodie involved. Regardless, to quote my letter, "The headline chosen, however, is quite insensitive, considering the name of the "bad guy" in the piece. If I was in a less forgiving mood, I'd say it was downright anti-Semitic."

Do the Times editors know no literature or history? I'd hope so. But without a plea of ignorance, we're veering into Pat Buchanan territory (Richard Perle latching onto George W. Bush like Fagin onto Oliver Twist) here.

Ahem. I am now a "Stalker." Vehamayvin yavin.

Self-Parody

Political Correctness veered into the ridiculous almost from its inception. Here are two winners from today's New York Times. First, a piece about firemen takes pains to remind us, at least thrice and in twice circuitous fashion related to semantics, that there are now female firefighters (and incorrectly claims that minorites are a recent allowance). Yup, all two dozen or so out of thousands.

But the winner has to be the Times' explanation as to why the Arizona manager insisted on walking Barry Bonds over the weekend. Were you thinking it was because they were worried that he'd, well, hit a home run? Oh, no: The Times will have you know that it's because he's...wait for it...black! Of course, they have to concede that Hank Aaron is black too, but they're not quite sure what to do with that fact. Oh, of course: That just makes people hate Bonds because of his race more.

Bwah-ha-ha!!!

Nothing too bad, but still not for the easily offended.

Am I the only one who notices the irony in the juxtaposition of the third and fourth stories here?

Speaking of flags, there were a few at the dancing- the UJ and the S&S, as we vexillologists call them. That's my cousin (well, my mother's cousin) Annette waving one. I fear I may not have a better shot of her, outside the family pix. Off to hunt, and maybe post some rants tomorrow (maybe)! 

Scott and Sue Eleff. Sue is making it clear where she's from. Go Sue! 

OK, here are a few more. My cousin Yale, "patriarch" of our family, as my mother put it in her speech. 

The Smiths!

Byyyyy special request (well, it was high time I did it, eh?), here are my pictures of my fantastic new in-laws (well, OK, my brother's in-laws, but whatever), the Smiths!

As always, click to enlarge. Or email for a picture, if you want. I was a bit mixed up here, so some of my captions read backwards and some read forwards. Eh- ignore my words, look at the pix.

Here's one of the nicest ones, to begin (and because, again, posting is backwards).

Ah, this is the good shot. Mazel Tov, all! 

Setting up the Smiths... 

My brother, surrounded by some of his (and my!) new relations... 

..and a bit of a wider shot. 

A bit behind the scenes here. 

"Please sir, I want some more."

...And here are a few. It's getting a bit late, so I'll stop with these. If the order seems a bit haphazard, it's because I'm posting backwards (and somewhat at random), so scroll up instead of down.

Here's Esti's niece (the one mentioned below as having taken a bunch of these shots) holding up her train. Not much of a procession, actually, which is nice. Much later in the evening, she would ask, in that smashing accent, "Nachum, are you knackered?" Well, maybe a touch. 

Here's the chuppa, pre-ceremony. This was a first for me- ceremony in the yard, everyone standing and watching. It was beautiful. 

Here's our cousin Craig, dancing his way out to the chuppa. 

Top of the world, Ma (and Pa, and Sam)! Top of the world!

Here's Nechama and Esti, bracing for a long photo shoot. 

Here's all four of us Lamm kids- me, Nechama, Sam and Sara (from left to right), looking as happy as can be- 'cause we were! 

Here's me and Sam (he's in the proper wedding tie), in a photographer's pose (but then, we're often like that in real life). 

Since I'm posting backwards, I present a picture of Connie to make up for her not being in the one below. This is her "Bohemian" look. 

Here's the amazing Eleff brothers, Michael, Eric, and Scott, at Esti's sister's house (that'd be Noemi Stern) Saturday night. Alas, the Eleff sister, Connie, is just out of the shot. 

Here's my dad, reading the kesubah under the chuppah. "Not bad for a monkey, eh?" he asked when done. (Don't ask- it'll just rile me up.) He also had a geshmak vort, to coin a phrase, about simply reading the kesubah. 

I'm back!

Back from Manchester, where my cousin Yale developed a taste for kippers, where we were served Waldorf Salad, where I met a Dr. Hibbert and a Ms. Lebowski (OK, different spelling), and, to move off of pop culture references, where I had occasion once again to curse complicated hotel showers. But enough of that- it was great! Great times, great people, great wedding, all too brief stay. I have many (many, many) photos, but here are a few representative ones to whet your appetite:

Here's the chussenkallah with my parents at the photo shoot. If these seem a bit unposed, it's because I (or someone else) was jumping in ahead of the official photographer. 

Here's one of the whole family (our side, plus Esti, of course, who's also "our side" now as well) taken at the photo shoot. Of course, I didn't take these- I'm in them. Esti's marvelous niece and nephew proved to be quick studies at the camera, and took a bunch of the photos I have here. 

Here's another shot of the extended family. It gets some details the previous one doesn't, so combine the best of each and ignore the rest, OK?