The old sign A Tale of Meat If you're not interested in a New York story, you can stop now. It may be annoying even if you are, because I'll be talking about a lifelong relationship with something a number of readers may never get to know -- which usually sounds like a brag. No one ever said the 2nd Avenue Deli had the best pastrami. Most mavens pit Katz's on Houston Street ("Send a salami to your boy in the Army" -- the history-heavy sign dangles from the ceiling) against Langer's Delicatessen on South Alvarado in L.A. My own feeling is that, … [Read more...]

The two host-judges (foreground) and initial contestants on Make Me a Supermodel Sincere congratulations, media scribblers, on a righteous strike. During your absence, TV critics sneered at the temporary dominance of reality shows. But I had never understood their genre distinction, aware that those purportedly callow shadow-plays are scripted with the best of them. OK, semi-scripted. OK, employing a form of method acting, one without method. I have praised the primitive, addictive, and unexpectedly sweet Project Runway in print before and, as … [Read more...]

"Up-and-coming studs" Bob, left, and Jasper, far right, just before their breakup in 1961 (from "The Art of Code") A piece of canvas covers its surface like a blanket except for portions at the bottom, where Tennyson's name appears in murky stenciled letters, and the top is vertically bisected, suggesting two pillows. Mr. Rondeau sees the work as a response to "Bed," which Mr. Johns's close friend at the time, Robert Rauschenberg, painted three years earlier on the quilt and sheets of his actual single bed. -- Roberta Smith, in a New York Times … [Read more...]

Another cheap treat gone. Relatively cheap, relatively gone. You probably have read that you shouldn't eat top-of-the-line bluefin sushi and sashimi anymore. Too much mercury. (Yellowfin and albacore are still OK.) Maybe a single, heart-red piece on Valentine's Day. Love, even sushi love, always courts death. New York Times target readers, whose grandparents carried smelts and flukes wrapped in all the news that had been fit to print, are now seriously peeved at their lifestyle read, blaming the messenger for the mercury. (Yes, there's a Roman … [Read more...]

Remember my forgotten man You put a rifle in his hand You sent him far away You shouted, "Hip, hooray!" But look at him today. Nothing, I repeat, nothing in the cowardly realm of popular culture makes me weep the way the sinfully uncelebrated Joan Blondell does when she sings these lyrics in the final set-piece of Busby Berkeley's Gold Diggers of 1933. I happened to catch the genius Berkeley's Footlight Parade on Turner Classic Movies, and its irrepressible Depression bounce (how the boys and girls of the chorus drop everything and dash when … [Read more...]

When Idols Fall For those generous souls who were taken aback by the assertion in the last Out There posting that author Horatio Alger, Jr. was a pederast, you may wish to read this careful explanation of why the young Unitarian minister left his Brewster, Mass. parish so hastily. And on a More Cheerful Note... Have you heard about the fascinating blind study that demonstrates that drinkers prefer wine they think costs a lot more to the exact same vino at a giveaway price? ("Scientists prove that paint dries slowly.") Brain scans show that it's … [Read more...]

It is a rule universally acknowledged that when knocking out traditional newspaper obituaries, or even those obit hybrids called "appreciations," the dutiful scribe should do everything possible to avoid speaking ill of the dead. ("No one brought more pride to a disheartened nation in so short a time as did Mr. Hitler.") So, Out There is happy to note that its writer is under no such fusty obligation when drawing attention to the passing of Carl Nicholas Karcher, 90, founder and chairman emeritus of the Carl's Jr. restaurant chain. Mr. Karcher … [Read more...]

Don't scab! A 1934 San Francisco picket line. Who (or Whom) Do You Trust? Have you ever crossed a picket line? That uncommon test of one's character -- uncommon because there are fewer unions and fewer union actions -- is more likely to be faced vicariously and safely on the Sally Field platforms of narrative culture. But you probably know why I'm asking, because on the new year's first Wednesday night, a certain "populist" presidential candidate crossed the line, as it were, in Burbank, Calif., to appear with fellow gay-baiter Jay Leno. (The … [Read more...]

Huck and Jim by Thomas Hart Benton. That's "Huckleberry," not "Huckabee." Explainer I realized, after asking some cordial readers whether they got my "Huck Honey" reference in the last post (see directly below), that I am older than sin and, on top of that, think that a literary critic whose best work was written almost 60 years ago could be considered K-Fed famous. His name is Leslie Fiedler -- born in Newark, New Jersey just after World War I, died in 2003, and was best known for a university-bookstore staple called Love and Death in the … [Read more...]

How to get a head in the art world (For the Love of God by Damien Hirst) Current Events Gosh, even with TV's long-compromised creativity halted by a strike, there's so much to write about right now. Like that Huckabee person's unretracted wish not only to concentrate HIV/AIDS types in some sort of germ camp, but his unembarrassed belief that we bent citizens -- Jodie Foster newly included -- are bad, bad, bad in a way that no proper under-God government could ever efficiently correct. Fall off the raft, Huck honey. "Aberrant, unnatural, and … [Read more...]