Grave Error

It may not be Jif Extra Crunchy, but Peter Pan Creamy will do the trick. The other day, out of sheer coincidence, I came across a nice stash of Peter Pan peanut butter in a local neighborhood shop that I almost never go into. I was so delighted that I gave the shop owner a gratuitous and boring monologue on why I was buying blueberry jelly to go along with the peanut butter. When I got home and ate toast after toast covered with the stuff, I realized that besides its power to transport me to my childhood, the PB&J combination has a quality very similar to the mixture of sweat and salty flavors in Moroccan cuisine. Maybe that is why I horde my mother-in-law’s homemade chebakia (fried cookie dough drenched in honey and covered with sesame seeds) as if they were Nutter Butters.

Some recent favorites from my often tasteless friends at Mi Vieja:

If you have a taste for the absurd and speak Spanish, I recommend you check out the truly original and ingenious MIVIEJA created by two truly original and ingenious friends of mine in Spain. They really crack me up!

I have been very busy lately, preparing a few interesting – though not very lucrative — projects that I will hopefully discuss in the near future, and therefore have been missing in action. Nevertheless, I have still been thinking about many of the issues of the day, such as:

• Obama is not a communist. I repeat, he is not a communist. He is a sell-out, and his health care plan and proposals are nothing more than hand-outs to the status quo. To believe anything else is to have your head in the sand (or in the snow, Mrs. Palin). Nothing that he has done to date has been left of center.
• I don’t care about Tiger Woods. But we treat our athletes, actors and politicians like rock stars. Our culture sexes them up and tells women that these are the desirable men in society. Then the expected happens: these athletes, actors and politicians actually become rock stars, having sex with everything that moves. The press is fully aware of all of this, witness all of the infidelities and sexual escapades, and form a tacit agreement with the celebrities to remain silent (in exchange, the press gets exclusives; the same agreement the White House press corp has with the president). It is only the rare occasion when the celebrity crosses the line – crashing his vehicle or making a public spectacle of himself – when the press then reports on the matter and the celebrity is forced to apologize, teary-eyed. It’s all just too silly for me. Come on! We should just stop pretending anymore. They are all — every one of them — having sex, all the time, and very publicly. Get over it!
• Our enlightened press wants us to believe that White Christians who terrorize are not terrorists. Only Muslims and foreigners can be terrorists.
• Hillary is worried that Iran is becoming a military dictatorship. Look, I am not comfortable with Iran having nuclear weapons either, but Mrs.-We-Can-Obliterate-You’s reasoning doesn’t pass the laugh test: the Iranian military’s increasing relevance in the country’s politics and oil economy. That doesn’t sound at all like the U.S., where our military spending makes up for almost half of the entire U.S. budget, making it the largest military budget in the world, and where generals — not the commander-in-chief — are the ones dictating military policy instead of implementing it. Meanwhile, Iran has the smallest military budget per capita in the entire Middle East (after Dubai). Also, the U.S. would never use its military to promote its economic interests, would it, Haliburton? And of course, Hillary forgot to mention that every ally the U.S. has in the Middle Eastern is a dictatorship. Nice try. She should just admit that Iran is the new Sadam Hussein.
• Talking war when we aren’t winning two other wars is probably not very threatening to anyone. Committing troops to two completely unnecessary wars leaves us exposed before any real potential threats. It is pure national defense negligence.
• Our Justice Department thinks lawyers are scum anyways, so torture memos are kosher.
• Regardless of the facts – the Bush/Cheney White House mirandized and successfully prosecuted and convicted 175 terrorist suspects in civil court and was mostly unsuccessful and ineffective in trying suspects in military tribunals, the press and the Republicans want us to believe that Obama has suddenly changed course. And instead of the rule of law prevailing over how we treat terrorist suspects, it all comes down to what one guy in the Senate – a man named Lindsey – wants.
• Cheney once again on the stay out of jail tour: I disagree with Greenwald that Cheney thinks he is above the law and therefore is flaunting having broken the law. I believe he is scared that he may very well be prosecuted – heck, the British are investigating themselves, someday Americans may also demand a little accountability and transparency from their own government. Thus, Cheney’s only card is to turn breaking his right to break the law without impunity into a political football, not a question of maintaining the rule of law.
• My cousin, Grave Error contrarian par excellence, has started his own blog – Machiavellian. We thoroughly enjoy disagreeing without each other. Now you can join in the fun too. Check out his new blog.
• And more.

In response to my post on the irrelevance of the Tiger Woods marital crisis story, my brother — a public interest attorney in the Bronx — brings up an excellent point about the disparate treatment of the wealthy and the poor in domestic disputes.

For example, I was recently listening to a Leonard Lopate Show podcast about police informants and the example of Jack Abramoff was given. In exchange for his testimony, Abramoff — probably the most corrupt lobbyist in Washington history — got a lighter sentence than would someone found with less than a teaspoon of crack.

Yet we continue to believe that the poor in America get all of the breaks.

My normal Friday morning ritual includes reading all of the new movie, restaurant, art exhibit, and shopping reviews, regardless of the fact that I almost never actually go the cinema, restaurants, museums or shopping. This morning after discovering that for the second day in a row I had absolutely no hot water (this on the last day of repairs that have left me without access to my kitchen for the past two weeks), I opened the El Mundo Metropoli Section weekend guide to find the face of my friend Juanjo and the review of his restaurant, ConAmor.

ConAmor is where I always take visitors to Madrid for excellent Spanish food. I always order the fried eggplant and the paella with vegetables.

My friend and former right hand man at FON, Jacobo (aka Hysidro), recently started a blog covering some of his design work. I used to just look over to my left to see what he was working (or procrastinating) on. Now that I don’t get to see him every day, I check out jacovo.com. I particularly like the beer in his face (and especially the sausages and garlic hanging in the background).

At this time every year I start getting excited about the day after Thanksgiving;  and not because of the Black Friday sales, but because the Christmas Season officially begins and I can finally start annoying everyone with my Christmas favorites.

Although I am normally excited at the end of November, this year coming home for Christmas is just about all I think of. It clouds my judgment. So forget about my criticizing U.S. foreign policy or getting on Obama’s case for being such a wimp on every single issue on his plate. I haven’t been home to Washington, DC in over a year and half, and in my mind I am already over the river and through the woods.

It was very nice to open the Washington Post this morning and find my friend and former boss, Angel Cabrera, right there on the front page of the online version. Angel was writing about global leadership, though I would not necessarily agree with his listing of the present Goldman Sachs CEO as an exemplary top executive.

The last two years I have spent the first days of Ramadan with my (now) Moroccan wife. Just as she has achieved an appreciation for Rudolph and Santa, I have learned to share in her excitement for Ramadan. Unfortunately this year we won’t be able to spend these first days together. Fret not, I still found my way to a few Moroccan run stores in Madrid and bought some of the typical goodies, including my favorite pastries.