Monday Morning Montaigne: On okay I didn’t finish this one

This week’s Montaigne essay, On some verses of Virgil (pp. 774-831), turned out to be really good. However, I didn’t have time to write about it, so I’m going to reread it this week and try to put something together for you by next Monday.

Suffice to say, my worries about a 50-plus-page essay titled after a poet I’ve never read turned out to be unfounded. I should know better than to take M.’s titles on face value.

Today, I am the greatest!

Later today, the MLB 2009 Hall of Fame class will be announced, and Rickey Henderson will likely have the most votes of anyone in nearly 10 years. I’m sure pre-steroid Barry Bonds would beg to differ, but I think Rickey’s the greatest player I’ve ever seen. I’d love to see him give a 2-hour induction speech in which he lobbies to get on an major league roster for the upcoming season.

What It Is: 1/12/09

What I’m reading: I tried Richard Flanagan’s novel, The Unknown Terrorist, but quit after 35 pages. I don’t know how to put it exactly, but the prose itself was hateful. I really don’t get the Kundera pastiche in the first 2 pages, either. Anyway, life’s too short for shitty novels, so I’ll stick with Montaigne for the moment.

What I’m listening to: A new Mad Mix I just finished putting together.

What I’m watching: Finishing up season 2 of Arrested Development.

What I’m drinking: Blue Point’s Toasted Lager and my above-standard G&Ts.

What Rufus is up to: No hike this week, due to snow! Aaiee!

Where I’m going: Nowhere in particular.

What I’m happy about: Getting birthday wishes from a bazillion friends and my family yesterday. Thanks, everybody! I hope 38 is as fun as 37 was!

What I’m sad about: That my uncle in Israel is likely going to need bypass surgery. This means that Dad and both of his brothers have needed this procedure. Looks like I better add red wine to my What I’m drinking section. (Oh, and the Giants lost to the Eagles. Grr.)

What I’m pondering: Whether Sting knows how bad he looks.

Golden Globe Awards Show

(AP Photo/NBC,Paul Drinkwater)

Poor Excuse for Art

I’m not sure I agree with the writer’s point — that post-crash poverty freed Rembrandt do pursue his art for its own sake — but it’s been a long time since I posted a Rembrandt link up here, so enjoy.

F*** You, You Whining F***: 1/8/09

A lot of these entries have focused on the publishing industry, because I read about it and its constituents tend to whine a lot. I haven’t written so much about the financial crisis in that context, so I’ll remedy that now.

Here’s an article about the SEC branch chief who managed to find no problems at Bernie Madoff’s hedge fund in a recent investigation. Rather than say, “I sure screwed up on that one,” she asked, “Why are you taking a mid-level staff person and making me responsible for the failure of the American economy?”

She added, “If someone provides you with the wrong set of books, I don’t know how you find the real books.” That’s why it’s called an investigation, you whining f***.

So, if you’re looking to pull an accounting scam on someone, make sure she attended Yale undergrad and Fordham law.

Throw me a bone

After giving me the double kick in the nuts of closing down both the New York Sun and my favorite Thai restaurant in NYC last year, the universe offers up a handy made-for-Gil-Roth moment: the My Year of Flops writer reviews With Nails, the film diaries of Richard E. Grant.

Plus, the makers of the awesome Q Tonic were so happy that I offered some feedback on their product that they just sent me a 4-pack of the stuff!

It seems the cosmos has made a New Year’s resolution to be nicer to me! (I promise I’ll get around to reading The Wah-Wah Diaries.)