So my last post was about soccer, and now I’m taking you to the Home and Garden page of the New York Times (errr, it came up in my news feed?). Blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol fact that politics (and the news in general, really) has left a lot to be desired this summer.
In case you haven’t heard, there’s been an oil spill. On.the.front.page.of.the.newspaper.every.day.
And this week, hysterics over “racism” from more than twenty years ago. Nearly a year since Obama’s notorious beer summit, it seems we may need a sequel, or at least a realization that our society couldn’t be further from “post-racial.” The specter of racism engenders paralysis among those who might possibly have maybe once been insensitive towards someone of another color, and disingenuous accusations are hurled from both sides of the aisle.
As much as oil-coated pelicans and whispers of racism thrill me, I thought houses might be a better topic. This year you can find me in Branscomb, but after that, when I’m ready to restore my digs to a Commons-esque level of opulence, here’s a place the roomie and I will be mulling over:
I won’t steal the New York Times writer’s thunder, but the historic estate, though its financial foundation may be shaky, boasts character that a corner office at Goldman can’t buy – as much a characteristic of the assorted residents as of the 43 rooms. As Richard Aldrich, the home’s owner, puts it, “Maybe we are the museum.”
What I love about Rokeby – it’s a home, in the true sense. It’s been lived in, worn down, loved, restored. As an investment or even a place to live, it may be completely illogical – outdated, in need of expensive maintenance, too big for any real person to inhabit. More than 43 rooms or 420 acres, though, it boasts an uncanny appeal to the emotions. If you’re at all susceptible to nostalgia, it’s a captivating property. I can appreciate that, and I’ve never seen it in person (but then maybe I’m just trying really hard not to write about the oil spill).
Rokeby is no McMansion. It’s not a cookie cutter house, and as a place to live, honestly, it probably doesn’t make much sense. And that’s the best part. As this $75 million eyesore in Florida demonstrates, money doesn’t buy class. And it certainly cannot guarantee the brand of character that defines Rokeby.
But for the commute, I’d be scheduling a showing. Now that the Vandy Vans are getting GPS, I figure it’s not long before we’ll be able to put down payments on the card.
Skip to 1m 10s. Did he really just say that? NASA’s foremost priority right now is improving relations with the Muslim world?
Once again President Obama just can’t get priorities straight. While there’s nothing wrong with inspiring kids in science and getting international support for the space program, it’s perplexing that those would be the top priorities for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Those sound like jobs for the Departments of Education and State. No wonder NASA has decided to cancel the Constellation Program which would build rockets for reaching the moon. I guess we can’t do that by ourselves. We must need international support and approval first. With all due respect to the president and NASA, if we are going to compete with countries like China, who have their own ambitious space plans, we are going to need to be a little bit more aggressive and self-reliant.
If you have a pair of eyes, access to a television, and a heartbeat, you will agree – of all the superlatives, none captures the United States’ 1-nil win over Algeria in the FIFA World Cup better than “breathtaking”.
With the bitter taste of two draws lingering in their mouths and the specter of an English lead over Slovenia haunting them for most of the game, it seemed increasingly possible that the Americans would leave South Africa heartbroken, having failed to clear the group stage.
An all-too-familiar feeling set in during the 21st minute, when Clint Dempsey’s goal was called back as offsides, though replays demonstrate that Dempsey was on. Though perhaps less devastating than Koman Coulibaly’s disallowal of the winning goal to Maurice Edu in the 85th minute against Slovenia, the call was frustrating for players and fans alike. For a second time, it appeared, the United States would be robbed of the point they had rightfully earned.
It is to the credit of Team U.S.A., however, that they channeled their frustration into a disciplined effort to best Algeria. As the game continued, the Americans – forward Jozy Altidore chief among them – played with evident hunger. As the second half progressed, however, a terrible knot tied in stomachs across the nation as the U.S. failed to land itself on the scoreboard. With 20 shots taken by the Americans, 8 of them on goal, and clear control of the game, each minute expiring on the clock seemed to lend greater weight to the inevitability of an American goal. They would score. They must. An early exit from the World Cup would be a bitter disappointment.
So my last post was about soccer, and now I’m taking you to the Home and Garden page of the New York Times (errr, it came up in my news feed?). Blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol fact that politics (and the news in general, really) has left a lot to be desired this summer.
