If you say so. That's life in the NYT "Sunday Routine" feature. I'm not buying it for 1 minute, the kids-n-dog jumping on the bed for half an hour to an hour, followed by just the parents meditating on the bed, but I did laugh a lot at the photograph the NYT got of the lovely couple meditating on the bed, with the kids-n-dog magically dispersed to other regions of their Upper East Side apartment which looks out onto Central Park.
Yes, I still read the NYT. Get over it, people. I read the NYT. I also read another thing a lot of you don't want me reading: The New Yorker. The New Yorker just had a spoof of the NYT's "Sunday Routine." Even though it came out before this week's NYT item that I'm quoting, it had kids-n-dogs jumping on the bed and meditation:
UP AND AT ’EM: My day starts at seven, when our dog, Percival, and our kids, Madisonaddison and Andersoncooper, jump into bed with us. Percival is a Pigapoo, which is a very rare breed. It’s a cross between a Shih Tzu and a pig. Percival has breathing problems, because he’s an affront to God’s plan and isn’t supposed to exist, so we have to be very careful when we’re roughhousing with him, or he’ll suffocate and we’ll have to introduce our kids to the concept of death....
BEDTIME: After a glass of liquid melatonin, a few minutes of meditation, some gentle stretching, and a Motrin 800, I’m out like a light.
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21 comments:
Yes, I still read the NYT. Get over it, people. I read the NYT.
"Prof. Althouse, are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?
Remember, professor, you are under oath here."
They aren't really meditating but the kids can read and they don't want the kids to know what they are really doing. Any wheezing and grunting they can blame on the pigdog. The kids can pound on the door all they want. This is mommy and daddy's special quiet time.
...Iggy Pup, who's named after Iggy Pop...
Oh, thank you so much, Dr. Frank, for making that clear to me, 'cause there's no way I would have known that by myself!
Please excuse me now, while I go off & try & find my own buttcheeks with both hands. Wish me luck!
More New York Values. It is a great culture that interacts there and selects the best.
Touchy today, huh? No one cares what you read, SarahPalin, mmm-kay? In fact, I'm sure most of us appreciate that you read that garbage then sift out the nuggets to share with your readers. So thank you- Now go drink a liquid melatonin...
I feel bad to live in a world where the name "Iggy Pup" needs to be explained.
I'm not buying it for 1 minute
They may have left out the part where the dog shat on the floor in the night then the kids stepped in it and ground it into the Nepalese rug in the living room so they had to spend an hour on the floor with the Resolve and a stack of the Abyss & Habidecor hand towels from the guest bath blotting, but otherwise it's probably 100% accurate...
Though why bother with the meditation when you're headed to SoulCycle with the loud and grating music and a the loud and grating instructor?
The problem with The New Yorker is that it instructs its readers to view most of their fellow Americans as members of some sort of dangerous, alien species.
"Yes, I still read the NYT. Get over it, people. I read the NYT. I also read another thing a lot of you don't want me reading: The New Yorker. "
Heh - little defensive there, Prof:)
Nobody wants or doesn't want you to read these elitist, Upper West side rags. We just like to mock those elitist Upper West side rags, since they embody all that is Beta-male and prom-widow in our country.
One caveat:
In 1971, the New Yorker published Epstein's brilliant take-down of the Black Panthers, as the murderous, lying thugs that they were:
http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1971/02/13/the-panthers-and-the-police-a-pattern-of-genocide
So, we have a bit of a soft spot for old Harold Ross and his New Yorker legacy.
Ken the Boxer's Morning Routine (starts at 1:13)
This reminded me of Eyes Wide Shut. I wonder if the good Dr. is prominent enough to know that there is no second password.
Wow. I guess you read all your comments so I'll take your word for it. Personally, as if it matters, I'm glad you do as I don't (can't afford it and I read too much anyway).
My mother-in-law takes the NYer and when we visit her my wife takes the old copies back. It makes for some amusing reading.
These days, I think the country's common culture is being rapidly replaced with 330 million cultures with very little overlap. After all, after a lifetime of TV watching, I'm conversant with most movies and TV shows from between 1966-1990, indie comic books, pop music, English literature, older sci-fi and fantasy writers, Doctor Who, Tolkien, and Discworld. I'm part of the last generation, fading like all the others, that has that wide a range of interests.
Might 19-year-old daughter knows the books from school, is deeply conversant with Japanese manga, Nintendo video games and fanfiction. Anything else she picks up by osmosis from us. My high school son reads some fantasy, watches movies with us, and is deeply knowledgeable about computer science (the real stuff; he's learning C and Linux and other things) and engineering, and whatever else he's picking up from us.
My cats know cat food and comfortable places to sleep and shit. That probably describes most millennials.
Ah yes, the heroic Althouse arises yet again to thwart all the mouth-breathers who insist that she not read the New York Times! I mean, my God...New York City!
I thought that she had reached the summit of heroic endeavor by demanding we make war in a nice way no matter how many of our children must die to do so.
By the way, speaking of children, be sure to visit her son's blog... and don't forget to buy from Amazon via her site.
The garrison flag of virtue that she flies over her house is so large that it actually drapes over her roof. Kind of like a US flag on the coffins of our war dead.
So very, very virtuous.
I'm not certain that it's a breed characteristic, but the only KCS I've been around is completely out of control. I can't imagine trying to meditate -- or anything else -- around a little yapper like that. Props for "Iggy Pup".
"The kids and our 2-year-old King Charles, Iggy Pup, who’s named after Iggy Pop..."
Do you have a "No Fucking Shit" tag?
Ann, I have to thank you for the link to the NYTs piece. I laughed so hard at the clueless self-absorption that Dr. Frank displays that I actually felt a bit guilty afterwards. The last time I recall viewing such a blatant lack of introspection combined with a ridiculous level of self-regard was, I think, when (then) candidate Obama gave his nomination-acceptance speech ("... this [is] the moment when the rise of the oceans [will begin] to slow ...") in 2010.
What a boring life that man leaves.
I quite enjoyed the New Yorker spoof piece. I even laughed out loud at the punch line to the "Gender Check-in" gag! Thanks for sharing the link.
How have I not known about this before?! This does not need to be parodied, this IS a parody all by itself! I used to check in with the other exercise in narcissism, the "Weddings and Celebrations" page in the Sunday NYT to see what train wreck was featured, but this was rich.
Is it my imagination or do the kids look bored in the slide show? And why isn't Diana at Benihana's? Too plebian? Although I have to say, the good doctor is looking mighty edgy in that Central Park shot . . ..
This is what journalism majors should do, not tell me who to vote for.
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