In the history of English language word combination, I’m not certain the word “art” has ever preceded “barge.” But it does–at least in Amagansett, New York, where a World War I barge was tugged to Napeague Harbor a half century ago and dubbed “The Art Barge,” docked ever since to offer exhibits and classes. It’s a strange combination: a munitions transporter meets stretched canvas meets barnacles. The setting, though, inspires and for visitors, it’s always been a haven from pricey stores and consumer culture in the area–though it does have a gift shop. Even if you can pass up a 20 buck Art Barge t-shirt, anyone in the area today should stop by for a “fun raiser,” as they term it, to benefit children’s art education there. The Art Barge sits, slightly cockeyed, four miles east of downtown Amagansett. Going toward Montauk on Route 27, make a left on Napeague Meadow Road, then cross the railroad tracks. That’s right: even in the swanky Hamptons, there is another side of the tracks, only this is probably the right side.
Made Off With the Money
June 29th, 2009
Bernie Madoff is, as I write, being sentenced and perhaps he can be given extra time for dumb coincidence. His name (Madoff) is a remarkable play on his crime (He made off with the money.) But to me, the ballad of Bernie Madoff shows us yet again how the scale of the lie helps the liar. As a former stock broker, I have a perverse respect for what Madoff managed. Now don’t get me wrong: his crimes were odious and unforgivable and he deserves he life in prison, if not more. It is, however, the skill behind the criminal act that is beguiling. As a stock broker, I used to sell conservative stocks like IBM to people. They were accessible and reliable companies, which by and large paid steady dividends. And it was hard. It is quite a hill to climb to part people from their money, even in wholly legitimate (not to mention comparative small scale) ways. But to steal their money outright on nothing but promises and guile? It is no coincidence that Madoff is, if nothing else, a rarity. Maybe, though, it shows us what history has taught before: the bigger the lie, the easier it is to tell. And, in the end, the more likely people are to believe.
Governor Twit
June 25th, 2009A new technology really only serves mankind if it provides another way for politicians to get into trouble. Toward this end: all hail Twitter. In the past few days, we’ve seen an re-rising Newt Gingrich shamefaced because of a careless tweet, accusing the new Supreme Court nominee of racism. Then came South 
Carolina’s Love Guv. Or, uh, more accurately–South Carolina Love Guv Mark Sanford’s ghost tweeters. Apparently, while the governor disappeared to parts unknown (later revealed as an Argentinian love nest) the Love Guv’s ghost tweeters were dutifully carrying on, sending out innocent 140 word Gov-missives, as if all were normal and the Gov was not “spending the last five days of my life crying in Argentina,” which, come to think of it, would have amounted to a pretty good tweet.
The Old Man and The Game
June 24th, 2009
Between youth and looks, I always ran a little stronger in the youth department. Now that’s going, but is it, in fact, gone? I only ask because for the first time ever I’ve been losing big in my men’s basketball league. Before this season, I’ve never had a losing one. Now: total malfunction. It’s not that I’m suddenly moving at underwater speed and who knows? Maybe it’s just a slump or, after all these years, a slightly funky mix of players. I’m just saying that the season has broken bad, and with it my mindstate.
The Annual Catastrophe
June 23rd, 2009For New York Knicks fans, life is not one with larger tragic overtones–like it once was for the Boston Red Sox. There is no spurned legend, pulling strings from the Great Beyond, no mystical energy working against them, no enticingly close calls with greatness, only to end in failure and sadness for the huddled mass of fans. Nah, for Knicks fans there is only a numb life of grinding disappointment. Mistakes are heaped upon mistakes and any approximations of bright spots (last year’s high draft pick) end pitifully. (That 19 year-old, it turned out, had an old man’s bad back that rendered him all but immobile.) That’s why Knicks fans this week will be walking around like something is about to drop on their heads. The annual NBA Draft rolls around on Thursday night and while that means hope for most, it usually serves as a showcase for another Knick disaster. A bum trade, a bad draft pick or the sort of low-grade bad luck that allows them to continue losing but never with the consolation of those tragic undertones. Knicks fans: stay tuned for Thursday. But dial down the hope, if the dial even goes any lower.
June 22nd, 2009
Here I am uncut and unedited and already showing the strain, though forging on in order to talk about the topics dear to my heart: words, business, basketball and firefighting. Hopefully, we can give some of these topics the clear-eyed look they need and yuk it up together on others. I’ll try to keep my entries clipped and precise, because there is nothing I hate worse than a man in a bathrobe braying on his blog forever. That reminds me. This bathrobe is so dirty, it can stand up on it’s own. It also reminds me: end it.