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Re: Why no sushi for lunch? mutual- & self-criticism


<<We can have an ARN multiethnic multipicnic...>>"

Let's see if we can sort all this sushi out...

...Sushi as food, symbol, or hot button?...

Sharon and I had sushi for lunch Saturday. It was very good, and completely
fresh. The woman at the local Jewel supermarket who made it brought out the
fresh trays she had just finished and said, "You want this. Freshest. Best."
(Actually, there were some consonant sounds that were a variant, but...).

...Cream cheese and political correctness...

>From time to time we have bagels. For me, they are always best with Kraft
Philadelphia Brand Cream Cheese. I know that Kraft? is owned by the Philip
Morris? Companies, and therefore there is something wrong with that. But I
don't own a cow, don't know how to make my own cream cheese, and in the place
I grew up and learned bagels-and-cream cheese etiquette, Philadelphia? Cream
Cheese was the cheese of choice, and the proper way to load the bagel was the
schmear (??).

...Why doesn't anyone defend WASPs against stereotypes and ethnic slurs?

Then I fell in love with and married a woman who had been trained to butter
(or cream cheese) bread and spread various bready items in a wholly different
(and very thinly) way. Calvinists, it seems (I don't know this for sure)
don't approve of The Schmear as the way to load cream cheese (or butter) on
bagels or toast. I got in trouble once by noting that the biggest obscenity
in the lexicon of certain theological groups in American society is
'UNRESTRAINED', and the good old New York SCHMEAR is definitely lacking in
restraint. But where should the self-criticism begin, or end?

...After you bare your sole soul, the dogs in "Animal Farm" tear you to

Were I to submit all of these confused whirls to "self-criticism" (or
whatever we're tuning it as nowadays), it would really depend on which group
got the majority in the circle.

My son's friends would probably do a Bart Simpson on me and ask what all the
fuss was about. "Get a life!"

If those nice ladies who make the sushi at Jewel were sitting around the
circle, I think they'd be perplexed at the whole idea.

If my old roommates and friends (Fred Lazin, Dan Fife, Eric Zornberg, etc.,
et. al, those who taught me about THE SCHMEAR and things like unsalted motza
with tuna fish) were there, they'd be perplexed as to how I was even
considering the thin cheese line as an alternative. Perhaps my falling away
from the SHCMEAR would be subject to serious concern.

Of course, if the deacons from one of the local calvinist churches were
sitting in judgment, it might be suggested, every so indirectly, and only in
the passive voice, and with the most serious of demeanors, that "one"
shouldn't be so UNRESTRAINED (but no exclamation points) with the cream

There's only one theological group I've ever watched that would, after the
whole exercise was over, tear someone to pieces. It's why I hied me thither
from them a generation ago and never regretted the adios.

Of course, all this still doesn't deal with the question of whether the cream
cheese would come from a corporate entity that also produces nicotine-based
products and those barley-malt things that are both legal and addictive (MGD,
for example).

I'm afraid many of us are condemned to be restrained in our sushi,
unrestrained in our bagels and cream cheese, perplexed regarding such
theological questions...

And to add to the confusion...

A year ago, Substance, tongue in cheek, recommended MO (along with SOC and
HLR) as a stock pick.

At the time, some would recall, almost everyone was enthralled with those Dot
com outfits that blew half their stash on their business plans and those
SuperBowl ads. MO did pretty well (while the DJIA and NASDAQ went down, MO
went the other way, considerably). But it still remains politically incorrect
(at this point, whether for the cream cheese, the beer, or the nicotine I
can't fathom). Some good came of it. Those among my friends who noticed the
note (end of Subscripts, January 2000) at least had the courtesy to say
"Thank You."

Since I'm chronically broke, it was simply an intellectual exercise (combined
with a bit of tweaking of the nicotine prohibitionists and some others...).

The year 2000 had its interesting twists and turns. The "markets" were only
one spin out. The last of the twists and turns, for me, came during those
incredible 36 seconds in Tampa Sunday (after all, the season was won during
2000, so the game played Sunday was a kind of anti-climax). I guess we could
talk about how much testosterone it takes to create the defensive line of the
only pro football team to get its name as conscious literary allusion. Is an
accessory to murder a murderer, too?

And there I was, rooting for the Giants out of some sentimental attachment to
my roots in New Jersey and those swamps where they parked the mortal remains
of Jimmy Hoffa (and so, so many others) and are now developing the old pig
farms a few miles north of where I was born into Yuppie havens.

As Romeo reminded Mercutio after the Queen Mab thingy...

"Peace, Peace, good ARNers,
Thou talk'st of nothing..." (I, 4, 101-102).

Which sometimes can simply be fun.

Let's lighten the load. It's going to be a very busy couple of months.

George Schmidt

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