Albatross Airways

This tops 'em all:

An airline to evacuate just you

and yours beyond the fray:

A community of the few

the proud

the elect.

The Ultimate Albatross.

The Albatross of Solipsism,

transporting you out of the hurricane of commonality.

Commonweal? An archaic word long ago expunged from the flight manual.

The Lap of Luxury

The problem with the looming recession will be that haves will figure they have less to dispense with, and the have-nots will have even less, in the process having more of have-not-ness.

And I comfortably sit typing on a computer keyboard, the biggest hypocrite of all.

I tap away while sitting in the lap of relative luxury (compared to many), but not at a laptop.

Peace

So simple.

So elusive.

Peace.

The pulse of prayer

the current of flesh

circuiting 

 

Uber-Wealthy Word Economy

Arianna Huffington and others have aptly remarked on the fact that our growing cadre of billionaires face rising challenges when it comes to gifts. Well, let's clarify that. There's no end to the possibilities of their giving (and I seriously and sincerely laud the work of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation).

What to get you favorite billionaire?

Hmmm. As noted in The Wall Street Journal: A Triton submarine? Jewels? flashy cars?

How about a commissioned biography for $30,000?

Presumably, said bio would praise its subject lavishly.

There's a more economical yet spiritually enhancing (as well as more capitalistic, for me at least) alternative:

I hereby present this special billionaire's offer:

Haiku for You.

A bargain at $1,700 apiece.

A hundred bucks per syllable.

(But think of all the free enlightement!)

Gluttony

True, I haven't been

at this space

in a while.

May today's surfeit

of gravy and turkey (in U.S.A.) not

drown us from finding

gratitude in the smallest

morsel, a graciousness that leads

to sharing our abundance.

Unjust Desserts

I imagine you heard about someone coming up with a $25,000 dessert in New York? The day after someone concocted a $1,000 bagel?

Sounds like one of those zany things in the 1920s, before the . . . well, we won't get into that.

The heavy weight of adundant shallowness.

WWKS? *

* What would Kierkegaard say?

Camera Obscura

As you may know, I am a fan of the Saturday edition of The New York Times. Saturday's read is so much more manageable than Sunday's mammoth wordspray.

Picture this.

On page A3, a thoroughly wrenching story of holocaust, Khmer Rouge edition.

It tells the story of Mr. Nhem En, who was forced to photograh the inmates of Tuol Sleng prison.

Just before they died (at least 14,000 were murdered). Only six or so are known to have survived.

The story is almost impossible to fathom, to assimilate, to process.

Try, if you can.

What can we say about the context of evil, its placement, its milieu, its backdrop?

The story is surrounded by these sizable advertisements:

Tiffany & Co.: diamond engagement rings in patinum. $4,220 to $1,000,000.

Saks Fifth Avenue: Ermenegildo Zegna shoes. No price.

The Balvenie scotch whisky. No price.

Tourneau watches: Bedat & Co., $2,950.

Rothmans Union Square clothier: no prices.

Incidentally, some of Mr. Nhem En's portraits have found their way to art galleries in the United States.

Why do we hear so little about this?

Is it not palatable enough for the palaver of television news?

In the eyes of news executives (remember, news is typically entertainment these days, even if macabre entertainment), does this horror involve the "wrong" people? Is the story, from the 1970s too "old"? It doesn't have "legs"?