Laura Bush = Dolores Umbridge?

There have been rumblings of this on the Internets. But is it just a coincidence that the wicked witch of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix bears an eerie resemblance to our nation's first lady? I mean, Umbridge does help prop up a corrupt, invasive, delusional Wizarding government.

Ex-Con Zombies Go to Broadway?

In an important breaking-news follow-up story, Filipino Prisoners Do "Thriller" has shot up the charts over at YouTube. The article reveals that the compulsory dancing routine was introduced by Byron Garcia, a security (read: performing arts) consultant for the Cebu province of the Philippines.

But the BBC buried the lede: Two of the inmates are now dancers. That, I think, is more amazing than the video itself.

The kicker, however, is definitely in the right place: "And fans of [Garcia's] work can look forward to another three routines in the pipeline, including one set to the Vanilla Ice classic, Ice Ice Baby."

Google Victory!

A miracle occurred today -- I did a Google search that returned ONE result. That may be a first for me. And there was no "Did you mean ... ?" thing at the top either. Just one result.

These were the search terms:

    gemtx hkn

My challenge to you: Can you do a search that yields a single result? Do it and post a comment!

And does anyone know the name of that game where you have to try to do a Google search that yields NO results with two real words?

$6 for Leukemia?

I used to donate money.

A few times I gave a few bucks to Sloan Kettering, maybe once to March of Dimes, maybe a couple of other places here and there. Now I just take their stickers and labels, and throw everything else away.

Dancing Behind Bars

One-thousand five hundred Filipino prisoners and their rendition of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video:

Truly amazing.


I got it from a former co-worker, who showed this blog post to me.

You-Know-Who in Chinatown?

Harry Potter madness was in full swing tonight. The line snaked across 17th Street and up Broadway for the Union Square Barnes and Noble; the subway platforms after midnight were scattered with diehard Potterites (dressed in robes or wizard hats or round glasses) face down in the opening chapters of the massive 800-page final book; and young children and their parents boarded the subway after leaving the party at the Mercer Street/SoHo digs of Scholastic, their plastic Scholastic bags straining with the weight of their precious new acquisitions.

The highlight of the subway trip home? When three Death Eaters got off the N train at Canal Street.

An Early Start

July 2007  |  Dan responded to my last post with this picture, taken in HK recently by his friend Anna. He also added a useful comment: "this pic sorta explains why everyone uses electronic devices on the MTR instead of reads... they're conditioned from a young age."

:: photo by Anna Yen ::

In Defense

Now that I've spent a bit of space showing why New York just might be a tad scary to live in, I submit my support for this town: It's a city of decently well-read folk.

When I was in China I was struck by how few people read on the trains, both in Shanghai and Hong Kong. An occasional novel, a newspaper here or there. Lots of hand-held video games, tons of cell phones.

On the New York subway? A sampling of about 16 passengers during rush hour last Monday revealed 12 readers. The breakdown:

* Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Sidney Sheldon
* Architectural Review
* The New York Times
* The New Encyclopedia of Modern Bodybuilding, Arnold Schwarzenegger
* New York Times crossword compilation book
* New York Times crossword/arts section (and me too, making us three people in a row with a crossword)
* The Wall Street Journal
* A Chinese book
* Russian book
* L Magazine (Williamsburg); The Atlantic
* Scientific American
* The Daily News or New York Post

I actually stopped doing my crossword because I absent-mindedly began spying on these people and writing down what they were reading. May they continue to read on their subway rides, even with weirdos like me stalking them.

HP7 Countdown

More on Harry. After the NYT review came out, blogs around the world reported on the 'scandal.' I'm proud to have been on top of that soon after the Michiko Kakutani review was posted (WARNING: Do not read if you do not want anything spoiled. I'm linking to it, and I haven't even read it!)

Anyway, it was only a matter of time. Eric sent me this BBC story today on the J.K. Rowling and Scholastic/Bloomsbury response to the plot leaks and spoilers appearing on the Internet days ahead of the scheduled July 21 release date. Publishers have been dutifully enforcing embargoes in 93 (!) countries in anticipation of the book release, but one can do only so much. The BBC lede? Harry Potter and the Premature Review.

Erhu Magic

Check out this clip of an erhu (Chinese violin) player named Ma Xianghua. The link is from my mom. (Yes, apparently she's a YouTuber.)


Anyway, everyone's heard the erhu before -- you know, in a subway station or at some Chinese school concert or something. It's incredibly hard to play and therefore a pretty irritating instrument to listen to. Apparently, it can sound really good as well.

If you don't have nine minutes, check out the first minute. It also gets exciting at 5:35 for a few minutes.

On a Lighter Note: Harry Potter

Wow, the NYT got an atypical scoop here: A review of the next and final Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which will be released to droves of fans -- young and old -- at midnight on Friday night. Michiko liked it, as she has the previous six.

Why is it a scoop? The Times purchased the book yesterday, a full two days early. So much intrigue!

A bit of the review:

With each installment, the “Potter” series has grown increasingly dark, and this volume — a copy of which was purchased at a New York City store yesterday, though the book is embargoed for release until 12:01 a.m. on Saturday — is no exception. While Ms. Rowling’s astonishingly limber voice still moves effortlessly between Ron’s adolescent sarcasm and Harry’s growing solemnity, from youthful exuberance to more philosophical gravity, “Deathly Hallows” is, for the most part, a somber book that marks Harry’s final initiation into the complexities and sadnesses of adulthood.

Kaboom.

I know that besides the unbearable heat and humidity in the city of late, today some crazy stuff has been happening. (See the slideshow as well.)

I was at 59th Street and Lexington Avenue half an hour after the explosion, and subwayless commuters flooded the sidewalks and talked on cellphones as wailing fire engines streaked (OK, lurched) down Lex to the giant plume of smoke rising 18 blocks downtown.

I was on the phone with a friend who lives on the West Coast, and she said to me, "Chris, is it really worth it?" (I believe this was a rhetorical question; she actually meant to say, "Only insane people live in New York.")

I guess so.

:: photo from nytimes.com ::

Judge Me Not

Tonight we sped along on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, me and my suitcase in the bright white Mitsubishi SUV that picked me up after my flight from Austin. (I don't know when car services started using white Mitsubishi SUVs, but hey, it ran real nice!)

We were somewhere near the Williamsburg Bridge exit and there was an awfully slow black SUV sitting in front of us. My driver flashed his lights at him, then switched lanes and sped by. As we evened up with the black SUV, my driver did one of those things: the glance-over.

Of course, everyone's done it. After some driver makes some lame-ass maneuver or otherwise annoys you, you go by them and you ... check them out. Just to see, you know, what kind of person would do something like that.

(I don't really do it that much, but yes, I have given the glance-over on occasion. My father, on the other hand, is a particularly avid practitioner of the withering glance-over. He also manages to do it in style -- with a look that seems to say, I can't believe you ever got your learner's permit.)

But really, does this accomplish anything? At best, in my view, you only give yourself another opportunity to make some kind of unwarranted judgment about someone: a woman driver, a Chinese driver, a fat driver, a black driver, an old driver ...

Anyway, as my driver glanced over, I thought of that moment of instantaneous judgment, and how dangerous and unfair it can be.

And then I was suddenly reminded of something that happened two years ago: I was in a Stop 'n' Shop supermarket with Meagan, and we were in line to check out. But before our first item was scanned, the black woman who had just paid and walked toward the exit came back to the front of the line. She told the cashier that she had been given the wrong change.

The cashier started to investigate the receipt. Then, at the same time, another black woman went behind the counter and reached toward the register. She started to fidget with the key that was sticking out of the register. The cashier didn't seem to notice, or care. I was mildly horrified.

Meagan and I looked at each other. What was the woman's friend doing? She was out of line. The guy queued up behind us shifted uncomfortably, and then said tersely, "You shouldn't be doing that." But the woman didn't hear. We all glanced at each other.

Then, I noticed the curly neon keychain hanging from her belt loop. I froze for two seconds, then shook my head, to myself.

As we walked out, I leaned over and said, "She wasn't with the other lady. She was the supervisor."

NYC Freakology: Sindergarten

You know how we always talk about the ambivalent youth of privilege? I have always felt like I could be one of them -- fortunate enough to do anything I want, with the urgency to do nothing.

But I stop relating when it comes to this story about a subculture of coddled New York teens. They escape the rigors of prep-school life by paying $50 bucks for drug-fueled yellow-school-bus parties -- Sindergarten -- in abandoned lots in Brooklyn or Queens, and the night's activities typically involve storytime and otherwise regressing to a kingergarten-level intellectual state.

"We didn't have real childhoods," says the high-school senior who dreamed up the idea a year ago and has now-made it into a semi-successful business. "This is our way of getting back what we were deprived."

:: link from Jeannie Choi ::

Goodbye, Harry

Stephen King writes in this last week's Entertainment Weekly on the final installment of Harry Potter (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows), out on July 21.

When it comes to Harry, part of me — a fairly large part, actually — can hardly bear to say goodbye. I'd guess that J.K. Rowling feels the same, although I'd also guess those feelings are mingled with the relief of knowing that the work is finally done, for better or worse.

And I'm a grown-up, for God's sake — a damn Muggle! Think how it must be for all the kids who were 8 when Harry debuted in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, with its cartoon jacket and modest (500 copies) first edition. Those kids are now 18, and when they close the final book, they will be in some measure closing the book on their own childhoods — magic summers spent in the porch swing, or reading under the covers at camp with flashlights in hand, or listening to Jim Dale's recordings on long drives to see Grandma in Cincinnati or Uncle Bob in Wichita. My advice to families containing Harry Potter readers: Stock up on the Kleenex. You're gonna need it. It's all made worse by one unavoidable fact: It's not just Harry. It's time to say goodbye to the whole cast, from Moaning Myrtle to Scabbers the rat (a.k.a. Wormtail). Which leads to an interesting question — will the final volume satisfy Harry's longtime (and very devoted) readers?

He dreads that the end is here; that we will have to say goodbye to these characters readers have known for 10 years now; that a brilliant story will no longer have any new chapters.

The fifth installment, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, comes out in theaters this week.