Meg and I are both currently hooked on the writings of the obsessively funny Jeffrey Steingarten, Vogue’s food columnist. She’s tucked into The Man Who Ate Everything while I’m reading It Must Have Been Something I Ate. It’s like Mr. Wizard meets David Sedaris meets The Galloping Gourmet.
The best part of this whole Steingarten-a-thon is that Meg has started cooking meat. You see, Jeffrey loves meat. And butter. And lard. And cheese. And eggs. He doesn’t believe the hype about salad. He believes people can eat meat, fat, and cheese and still be healthy (see the French Paradox) and probably a whole lot happier. I am delighted on so many levels to hear this viewpoint - my viewpoint also - expressed so convincingly.
In the last week, Meg has twice stopped at Ottomanelli’s Butcher Shop on Bleecker, once for filet mignon for Valentine’s Day (which when combined with mashed potatoes and a small salad, is surprisingly economical for how damn good the meal is) and this past Friday for a whole chicken (which took far too long to cook due to a faulty oven, but turned out wonderful anyway due to Meg’s skill in the kitchen and Dean Allen’s whimsical directions). My tummy and taste buds are plently happy. Thanks, Jeffrey.
I ran across a great book in Paris called Starstruck (buy @ Amazon):
In 1999, on a visit to Boas’s home in Lancaster, the editors of Dilettante Press discovered rows of meticulously assembled scrapbooks lining the sagging bookshelves of Boas’s bedroom. The albums revealed a vast personal archive of over 50,000 images of famous people. This discovery resulted in an internationally acclaimed photo exhibition and the book, Starstruck: Photographs from a Fan.
The photos in the book are mesmerizing, especially the older ones that offer a look at celebrity that you just don’t see much of anymore. I literally could not put it down.
Hello, and welcome to the first stop of the virtual book tour for “Rainy Day Fun and Games for Toddler and Total Bastard,” the surging juggernaught of virtual book tours. My name’s Greg Knauss, and I’ve commandeered kottke.org today to pester you into dropping six bucks for a big wad of dead tree. Jason will be back tomorrow, ma’am, please put your shirt back on.
“Rainy Day Fun and Games for Toddler and Total Bastard” is a collection of stories about kids — birthing them, caring for them, confusing them for your own petty amusement — that originally appeared on An Entirely Other Day. There are plenty of good reasons to buy a book composed of Web pages — several of which revolve around bathroom accessibility — but I’d like to start with a reading, to give you a flavor of what you’ll find inside:
[Cough. Clear throat. Sip water. Read aloud. Lament my ineptitude at producing MP3s, and rue this lame substitute.]
Imagine how much better that would have been on paper, away from your computer, outside in the sunshine without all that pesky money weighing you down! Yes, “Rainy Day Fun and Games for Toddler and Total Bastard” makes the perfect gift! Unless the person you’re giving it to has children, in which case it will make them cry.
We’re scheduled to begin the question and answer portion of the event here, but I’d like to say a few words to those of you who haven’t been convinced to buy a copy by the reading:
C’mon, you weenie! It’s only six bucks! If you don’t want a book about kids, look at the rest of the So New catalog! Buy something else! Buy “Help Wanted” or Words! Words! Words! or “The Brick.” Or Little Engines, which isn’t even from So New Media. Or buy Macros, or back issues of Beer Frame, or, God, something other than another freakin’ Grisham novel. How many of his books have you read? Six? Eight? Can you even tell them apart anymore? Here’s a hint, sparky, the youngish white male lawyer is the good guy! You dropped six bucks on that, why not spend it on something that isn’t extruded from the ass of the publishing industry like crap from a horse overdosed on Metamucil? Instead of your next Big Burger Value Pak, how about you grab an apple and some independent media? Huh?
And, now, Q&A:
You’re a complete hypocrite, aren’t you?
Yes. Total. Today at lunch, for instance, I’ll be finishing “A Painted House” over a Western Bacon Cheeseburger.
But you still want me to buy your book?
Oh, yes. I did — I bought six copies. You should, too.
Six is an awful lot, don’t you think?
Yes, you’re right. So I’ll cut you a deal: order in the next ten minutes, and I’ll only make you buy three.
These aren’t real audience questions, are they?
No. It turns out that the Web is about as interactive as a box of cereal. But if you’ve got a question, please mail it to [email protected], so I can answer it when the “Rain Day Fun and Games for Toddler and Total Bastard” book tour pulls into Stating the Obvious tomorrow morning. See you there!
Except for you, ma’am. No, you can’t camp here until Jason comes back. Yes, I’m sure he’ll like the embroidered pillow. And, please, put your shirt back on.
Edward Tufte (author of three excellent books on information design) is working on a new book on cognitive art entitled “Beautiful Evidence”. Here are some copious notes from one of Tufte’s one day courses (upcoming schedule). There’s a really good bit at the end on his “principles for making presentations”…I’ll need that advice right around 8:30 this morning.
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