The Fun Continues

Sonnet in Paris.

After dropping the kids at yoga and going for a power-walk in Richmond Park, I brace myself for Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling who describe Britain's banking bail-out. I watch them on TV and I must say that while I have been critical of Super Gee, he has the facts cold. Chancellor Darling, too, is cool-hand Luke and his unwavering eye instills confidence. Cameron would be a disaster. Their press announcement this moring follows the financial sector's sharp stock-market decline and fear of a "cataclysmic failure." As I understand it, us taxpayers will take a stake in banks seeking assistance through the purchase of their preference shares which, Gordon Brown says, could mean Joe Six Pack might make a profit eventually. You betcha. Holders of preference shares, Dear Mother, are the first in line for the payout of dividends but they do not carry voting rights nor enjoy Board representation - a huge flaw, in my opinion, given that we now own these jokers. I want to make sure my money is appropriately utilised and not going to fat-cat salaries nor 5-star spas (hello, AIG - you boneheads). The bailout is expected to be structured so that the Government receives rights to ordinary bank shares at low prices, holding out the prospect of profits if and when banks recover. Chancellor Darling also announced help from the Bank of England to ensure that the banks have enough cash to run their day-to-day activities. Thank goodness for all that.

The difference between the US and the UK bailout BTW is where the cash goes: in the states, an RTC equivalent to be formed to buy so-called "toxic assets" which presumably can be resold should there ever be value. Banks or anybody can unload its wastage and, we hope, strengthen their balance-shit with one enormous flush. In Britain, we give the same banks direct liquidity to sort out their own mess; in return we own 'em.

Well... Yes, And Here We Go Again*

There are two ways to view yesterday's financial meltdown: (1) this is simply a large correction in a normal bear market; or (2) a fundamental change in our financial system. If you believe the first, investors prepared to buy and hold for the long-term will enjoy significant returns. Global de-leveraging is only just beginning, banks are crashing but governments see the world on edge and will work to pull it back somehow. If the second, however, then we are headed into a near-unstoppable deflationary bust, similar to Japan in the '90s. If so, then earnings forecasts are not worth their paper. That is why equities and corporate bonds cannot find a floor, commodity prices are in free-fall, and ultra-safe government bonds, especially at the short-end, are so expensive.

During the past two weeks, equity markets have suffered some of their largest falls ever, including '87 and the Great Depression. What is certain is that there will soon be a tremendous rally - just as there was during the Great Depression. The 1930s saw nine of the 10 best days for US stocks ever recorded. None of those rallies, however, was sustained.

I love the Fleet Street photograph of a stressed-out Wall Street trader screaming (or crying) into his head-set staring, presumably, at the Big Board. This as dated as a toaster at the bank: securities trade electronically, no longer requiring a physical presence.

"Buy the rumours, sell the facts"
source? Wall Street mantra

* Hunter S Thompson, "The Great Shark Hunt"

Empty warehouse image from richstone.org

Where Have Our Heroes Gone?

I catch Eitan watching the BBC and ask him if he understands the news (I keep it pretty general). He shrugs and gives me a blank-stare: this the last thing he needs to think about, his eyes tell me. I pat him on the shoulder and he bounces off to tap-tap-tap his football (nearby Madeleine's ears pricked BTW - she senses that her brother's 16-month age-advantage gives him access to the adult world somehow). I remember when Moe left his law-partnership to form another in the early '80s. He told me about the change on a Sunday afternoon while I read comic books on my bed. My reaction: why are you bothering me with this stuff? Moe eventually built one of the largest labour-law practices in California but the transition must have been stressful. On my side, I simply never worried about the foundation: as far as I was concerned, life was pretty damn hard with 6AM swim-practice and book reports. I knew my dad was a winner and that my parents loved each other; I never doubted my allowance. Sure, I was disappointed when we moved to the Berkeley hills because I couldn't have a basketball net over the garage but hey, those were the breaks. I wonder how many similar hard-working families will suffer the times we are in?

McC yesterday: "I didn't just show up out of nowhere. After all, America knows me; you know my strengths and my faults; you know my story and my convictions." (pssst: k-e-a-t-i-n-g 5)
-> Too bad it is Sarah Palin running for President.

Richmond

Eitan returns from his movie-date Sunday afternoon and the kids promptly watch... a movie. Yes, Dad's oversight continues until tomorrow. Madeleine picks "Snow Dogs" which is so horrible I bail after 15 minutes. The Disney film low on budgets so the dogs receive a voice-over while doing all sorts of cute things like eating ice cream, pulling a dog-sled and talking in afro-slang: "yo dog, wuz up?" Ghastly. Afterwards I drag the Shakespeares kicking and screaming to Richmond Park for some exercise - we are blessed to have London's largest park on our door-step. It is well-used but not crowded and perfect for a picnic or a stroll, even with today's overcast cold weather (Madeleine naturally refuses a jacket and ends up wearing mine). Strangely the park is covered with ferns, which I associate with more tropical climes. The cold weather means they are dying off for the season, along with the various tall grasses and leaves presenting us with... New England. I betcha the Pioneers thought the same thing. Eitan uses his binoculars to spot dogs and deer - an ancient buck lets out a primeval roar which stops everybody cold. It is spooky bouncing off the hills and the kids encourage me to hurry back to the car.

Purple Rain

Eitan is at the movies with his pals Joe-Y-H and Sirus leaving me a special day with Madeleine (Sonnet returns tomorrow). The weather is Cat-In-The-Hat yet we make a go of it at McDonald's, the #1 choice for lunch, where she orders a Happy Meal with "chicken" nuggets and a cheese-burger on the side. I have fruit beforehand but otherwise take a pass at the restaurant - it really says something, boy, when you won't eat the food served to your kid. Over lunch, I determine Madeleine's state of mind asking about any worries. She replies "[I worry] about the dogs in the pound; about running out of gas; about Eitan getting lost; and how animals get treated."

I probe further noting "that any problem has a solution if we talk about it" but she shakes her head: "Not everything dad: flying. And flowers can't walk. Babies can't talk when they are first born. Candles cannot light themselves" and I must admit she presents several points. I wrap up asking if she could do anything, what would it be? "If you put me in the wild, with anything I could do, the first thing is I would get a pup."

Madeleine walks about with a stiff leg due to her injury yesterday. This gets lots of strange looks on the high street as she hobbles along. Most of the looks are towards me BTW and I tell Madeleine to stop. She's no dummy: "will you get me something if I do?" she asks.

Can there be any doubt that Sarah Palin wants to be President? This hussy is already maneuvering, comparing her VP to Truman who became the boss when his boss died. How unpleasant to see naked ambition especially when it effects ME and my KIDS. Frank Rich offers another excellent piece in today's NYT; Rich has been consistently on-the-money starting 18 months ago when he was the first pundit to see Obama.

Ray Guy

I sit here listening to the Bears play Arizona State (17-7 in the opening second half). The game at Memorial Stadium and kick-off 12:30PM Pacific offering a late night but doable, most definately. Thinking about football, nobody comps the Oakland Raiders in the 1970s before free-agency and team moves ended my compulsion. Back then the Raiders were the real-deal - coached by a big fat guy who gesticulated madly from the sideline and a bunch of motley players who drank and smoked, often during a game (wide receiver and SB MVP Fred Biletnikoff traded the oxygen tank and fags between plays). I had a number of heroes then - Ken Stable, Mark Van Egan, Cliff Branch, Dave Casper and Ray Guy, pictured. In '73 Guy was the first punter chosen in the first-round, which has never happened again since. He played in 207 consecutive games averaging 42.4 yards a punt: none returned for a touchdown - ever. Guy was selected to seven Pro Bowl teams, and in 1994, he was named the punter on the National Football League's 75th Anniversary Team. His leg-power was legendary - at the '76 Pro Bowl, he hit the Louisiana Superdome video screen which was then raised from 90 feet to 200 feet. Guy also had an awesome arm and a rumour at Washington primary was that he could throw 75 yards with his feet planted. Yes, we adored him as only a kid can do. The Silver and Black - that was a team, man.

“This is not a man [Barak Obama] who sees America as you see it and how I see America. We see America as the greatest force for good in this world. If we can be that beacon of light and hope for others who seek freedom and democracy and can live in a country that would allow intolerance in the equal rights that again our military men and women fight for and die for for all of us. Our opponent though, is someone who sees America it seems as being so imperfect that he’s palling around with terrorists who would target their own country?”

The nim-wit Sarah Palin speaks up in Colorado

Cal beats Arizona St BTW 24-14. I'm going to bed.

Blood Red

Nanny calls in sick yesterday so I pick up the kids from school and eventually take Eitan to swim team at St Paul's. Madeleine and I go for an autumnal walk by the Thames nearby the Hammersmith Bridge ("no dad!"). As the tide is in, the river something to behold. She and I get a treat at a nearby cafe and I do my best to entertain her but sometimes I fail; she is in a reflective mood and craddles her head in her arms. From there - we pick up the boy and get pizza and finally bed around 9PM.

This morning begins with Madeleine swimming at the Bank of England club; while she swims Eitan and I footie so I get some excercise. Then two more hours of football and I watch shivering. Madeleine slips on cement thanks to her cleats and tears roll, oh boy. She finds a walking stick which she dramatically uses to get around the house: "thank goodness I have my stick" she adds. Both now watch a vid of the winter play and giggle at themselves and their friends. Madeleine has requested a visit to the toy store to chose her Halloween costume while Eitan contemplates fake-blood: "I'm gonna get some."

"I'm so bored I can't even move . . . "
Madeleine

tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap... (Eitan kicks the ball inside the house) tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap . .. .

The Cap'n

In St John's Wood I have an inspired moment: I visit the grocery on Princess Rd famous for selling American goods like Nestle chocolate chips, Paul Newman's Own and sugar cereal - all the classics, too. Growing up, there was a no-sugar-cereal rule which was occasionally broken on holiday when we got the "gift pack" of six or eight small, diner-size boxes. Otherwise Katie and I longingly walked the grocery isle touching "Lucky Charms," "Count Chocula" and "Boo-Berry" and of course "Cap'n Crunch" which in my humble opinion is simply the all time best. So, seeing how Sonnet away this week end, I bring home a box of The Cap'n and Fruit Loops which gets a shocked surprise from Madeleine: "Is that for us, Dad? Is it really? Really?" Madeleine of course wants three-bowls at once (I limit to one and only at breakfast) while Eitan wants to spread out the pleasure in routine: "Can we eat it Tuesdays and Thursdays?" he asks. I don't really care how they eat their "suga" cereal as long as they also eat it with fruit. Dad is on patrol.

Wandsworth Town

The US Embassy will move to... Wandsworth?! The Americans have been on 1 Grosvenor Square in Mayfair since 1938 when the embassy moved from Piccadilly to accommodate General Eisenhower and the wartime administration; it was also the European headquarters of the US Navy. Following WWII, the Duke of Westminster donated the land for a memorial to wartime FDR. So the current U.S. Embassy building was constructed in the late 1950s, opening in 1960; it was designed by Finnish American architect Eero Saarinen with a large gilded aluminium Bald Eagle with a wingspan of over 11 metres on the roof. Not Eero's finest hour I should say. The concrete block is an eyesore in Mayfair and stands out like sore thumb. The grey cement molds in the winter and in contrast to the charming red-stones that surround her. It is also difficult to protect so make-shift cement blocks prevent suicide bombers from their insanity. On the flip-side, it is a power-building, bold and confident: "don't mess with America" she says. And now to the Thames Southside in a most assuredly non-glamorous London neighborhood. Yet another knock, Dear Sister. Another knock. What a moment to make such an announcement. (photo from the American Embassy website)

In some cheering news, Hummer sales are down 54.8% from last year, marking the sixth straight month of at least 50% sales volume declines at the hulking-stupid-gas-guzzler maker. Good riddance dude.

Annie Hall

Here's my sceptical look as I listen to the Biden-Palin debate on the internets. Thank goodness Palin does not look like a deer-in-headlights and we are listening to a debate and not squirming in our seats. Palin's confidence projects, unlike with Katie Couric, and she sure does use a lot of vernacular: heck-of, get'n down to get'n things done, you betcha and darn toot'n. I suppose Joe Six Pack, whomever he may be, understands it. It reminds me of Annie Hall who you may recall dressed, spoke and looked like a small-town kinda gal. Over the course of Woody Allen's Oscar winning film Annie grows up: she takes night-classes, enters therapy to understand herself, becomes a singer and she improves. I wouldn't want the youthful Annie Hall as VP but I would consider her reincarnation - thoughtful, intelligent and in tune with her feelings and surroundings. In short, Hillary. Or Biden.

Biden did seem presidential thoughtful and poised. His answers reasoned with no famous gaffes, like asking a handicapped dude to "stand up" or when telling a gun owner "your crazy" (the fella did have a semi-automatic on display at a rally).

This idea that McC is somehow a maverick is silly: Senator McC has voted along party lines and on the inside for, like, EVER. He also championed deregulation even after being a part of the Keating Five which should have killed his political career. Oh well. Further, do we really need a marerick in the White House (Webster definition: "an independent individual who does not go along with a group or party"). Personally, I want somebody who can work with his government and accomplish a few goals, returning our country to before - let's say the Bush Sr or Clinton era - not far ago, Dear Reader. Well, fat chance to repair the broken plates for us but at least we can prepare for our children. Or grand-children.

On the school-drop, two mums sympathised with my situation being an American and all. The general feeling on the ground and in the media is that the United States is quickly becoming second or even third-tier.

Katie in Paris

Katie over oysters, Tuesday, in Paris. Katie is a special gal and her women's Op-Ed foundation has taken off - she is excited, boy.

My favorite things about Paris:
1. Seasonal change. Spring or fall, this is the only place to be. Paris does not have the greenery of London yet seeing the trees and parks blossom or die-off while fashions change gives me the sense of moving on. This time of year unsettling yet I love the feeling.
2. Food. Of course. It is impossible to have a bad meal and children not invited. Paris takes its gustacian seriously.
3. Eurostar from London. Unfortunately the London terminus moved from Waterloo to St Pancras this year making the train less convenient to Southwest London. Oh well. Arriving at du Nord always thrilling+Terminus restaurant a favorite, similar to the Grand Central Station Oyster Bar in NY. I have the same thing every time: smoked fish+onion soup or oysters.
4. rue Faubourg Saint-Honoree. This is where Astorg is located and nearby l'Église de la Madeleine and Place de la Concorde. I have a favorite hotel, Le Faubourg, which is not ostentatious and perfectly located in the 8th next to the Crillon. This is where Sarkozy and Carla Bruni live in the Presidential Palace next to the British Embassy. The shops are chic and outside my league except Hermès where I buy my ties.
5. Le Dome in Montparnasse - and not because it is one of the best seafood restaurants in Paris, which it is. Rather - Sonnet, Christian and I had dinner during Blake's wedding in '00 (Sonnet six months pregnant) and I looked over my shoulder to see Alan Greenspan no more than six inches from my nose. He was huddled outside, on his mobile, opposite the window. Since it was Sunday evening presumably he was dialing in an interest-rate change - and indeed, rates came down a quarter-point the next day. At Greenspan's table was Felix Rohatyn (US Ambassador to France and Chairman of Lehman Bros. RIP)+Arthur Schlesinger Jr (RIP)+their wives in cool glasses and B-52 hairstyles.
6. Hôtel Costes, which has the best martini in Paris and the highest concentration of beautiful people anywhere.
7. Astorg Partners and Rothschild, who have given me a reason, as though I needed one, to visit frequently since '03.
8. French. OK, my language often fails me but I make the effort and the Parisians (most of them anyway) appreciate my efforts. My problem, you see, is my accent which is pretty good and sets an expectation for competency. I still struggle with vocabulary and verb-tenses, oh well. But at least I am unafraid which is half the battle.
9. Lacoste. As a rule I buy three new alligators a year in spring. It adds colour and what could be more cool for a middle-aged dad?

Our Lady

I face la Cité from the Right Bank and take this grainy photo with my mobile. My first visit to Notre Dame was in '82 with my family - we were visiting Aunt Marcia and Larry, who was on a fat ex-pat package with Citi back in the day when a foreign assignment really meant something. Marcia gave up a lot to go too - she was the first mayor of Bronxville. Also with us was my grandmother Dorothy and I have a funny photo of us somewhere on la plaza. I was in ninth grade or 15 years-old. The trip planted an idea to spend a year abroad, which I did my Junior year of high-school in Geneva. Also that year the Italians won the World Cup and I recall their celebrations up and down the Champs-Élysées and everywhere. They beat Brazil of course. Notre Dame was recently cleaned up following a ten-year restoration that completed in 2002. Amongst many things, it removed a century of city grime and restored the original cathedral stone.

There are five bells at Notre Dame. The great bourdon bell, Emmanuel, is located in the South Tower, weighs just over 13 tons, and is tolled to mark the hours of the day and for various occasions and services. There are four additional bells on wheels in the North Tower, which are swing chimed. These bells are rung for various services and festivals. The bells were once rung manually, but are currently rung by electric motors. The bells also have external hammers for tune playing from a small clavier.

"When good Americans die they go to Paris."
Oscar Wilde

Ya Man

This photo at Terminal 5 is the new ad campaign by Vodafone. Does anybody else find it offensive?

Sonnet leaves for New York where she will spend the week end at Catherine's baby shower (a surprise) and will see will Rana, Katie and Aunte Marcia. I am solo with the Shakespeares, who simply sob at the prospect of me walking them to school (Eitan accuses that "you are never any fun"). Madeleine needs her mum particularly in the morning and today she walks into the dining room with Doggie and becomes tearful when she learns Sonnet jogging. I have to miss the tail-end of the drams as Christian's town-car late and I have to race him to the airport. I return sadly to an empty house. Still, I look forward to the full-on attention of being a single-care provider for a few days. Last night I asked Madeleine if she wanted to go to a bar (her reply: "no silly"). If anything like last time, there will be extra TV, extra ice cream, extra allowance... I'm really a sucker for them after all.

Faubourg

Outside the hotel - me looking a bit eccentric but I don't mind. The world opens with a bang! following Congress's inability to sign the Paulson bail-out. I think things better than we all think, but still bad. Here is my snap-shot understanding: following the Internet Bubble, Greenspan made money cheap to stimulate our economy - interest rates fell from 6% to 1%. The "free cash" had to go somewhere and it did: property. Thus the 30 year housing bubble grew beyond historical value measurements like rental rates. To spread the risk and fuel the ponzy, an unregulated parallel credit market grew to perhaps $60 trillion (more than the world's assets). The inevitable property value decline has brought the re-marking of balance sheet assets forcing many (all) financial institutions to take write-offs and call in outstandings to remain capitalised. The 'deleveraging' has caused a downward spiral. There is much more to it than this, for sure, but the bottom line is a government bail-out inevitable (a fearful question being: will it be enough?) And so our banks become nationalised. Who would have thought Bush & Co. would done what the commies never could?

Katie is in Paris with her fella Mark and we meet for lunch at a new restaurant Huitrerie Regis which serves oysters, cheese and wine. Fabulous. We consume an enormous spread and I swallow 20 crustaceans at least. Not sure what that does to my cholesterol levels but so what? (Unfortunately I forgot my camera so no pictures). Katie's birthday Monday so a special occasion. Any rendezvous with your little sis in a capital city a special occasion. I am sure we will look back on yesterday 20 years from now and think... life was good. We were young. Ah yes.

Izod

Christian returns from a week's bike-riding in Spain and Portugal and we hop a plane for Paris. Here he is at the Duty Free with one of many La Costes - together we share a love for the alligator. In Paris, we get good weather for strolling around nearby our hotel in the eigth arrondisement and rue Faubourg St Honoree - over lunch we discuss the difference between marranges, macaroons and egg whites. The conclusion: they are all good (especially when in Paris). Christian meets a friend at Astorg Partners for a possible job then afterwards we go to Hôtel Costes for a martini - the hotel was commissioned by Jacques Garcia and is renowned as a den of opulence in conjunction with Klay Robson as Developer and construction consultant (the design maxim was "all things in excess"). Indeed. We observe the beautiful people being observed and observing. Our waitress has legs taller than me. From there we have dinner at neighborhood bistro and hang out until late. I love this city.

The Gang

Here is Eitan with his pals at the birthday party - can it really be a year?. The kids are coached by an old-timer, who cracks jokes about ManU (yea!) and Chelsea (boo!). His authority stems from a silver-whistle, which he blows repeatedly for hand-balls, loose fouls and rough-playing. The kids divide into sides and the birthday boy gets first pick: touchingly he chooses Madeleine though there are better players. The boy is alright (and I make sure he is aware that I noticed). It is a beautiful autumnal day and about 75-degrees allowing the kids to sweat it out. Sonnet and I can't resist joining them and I tease the kids to "go after the granny!" which they do with fast little feets. At one point I'm sitting by goal with Harry on defense: he lets three by and I tell him: "you know, you are supposed to keep the ball out of the net." He cracks up. Yes, a fun day for Eitan. A fun day for dad.

Birthday Boy

Eitan celebrates his 8th on Sunday choosing the pitch for an organised afternoon of footie, pizza, hot-dogs and cake and presents. We snap this photo together before the action arrives.

So, Dear Reader, here are the things I love about being a parent:
1. It is fully occupying all the time and forces me to examine the ever-most crannies of my life. Sonnet and I make decisions for the kids within our limitations of geography, resources, income, family and friends and it all comes together - Eitan and Madeleine know they are loved.
2. Babysitting. Seriously. Nothing is more enjoyable than me alone with them, they in bed, me watching TV or reading.
3. Acting silly. I get their continual immediate feedback for acting like I am their age. They groan when I sing on the school-run or laugh when discussing things like farting - such a hilarious thing, really, made better when the joke shared with an adult.
4. Passing on a lifetime's data. For instance, we observe the tidal Thames which offers the perfect visible explanation of gravity while tying ourselves to the moon. Amazing.
5. Complete control. OK, this changing as Eitan and Madeleine wise-up to punishment-disownment. If I take away TV, for instance, they say, "so what?" I figure I own them about 50%, which will diminish to zero by their teens or tweenies. Then it will be about influence - if I am lucky they will listen. If not, they are grounded.
6. Watching Sonnet be a mother. I knew she would be perfect. And she is.
7. Laughing with Sonnet about everything (most of the time). We are inside the family secret, which is messy and humorous. The Shakespeare's many indignations raises a smile while their tom-foolery gets a belly laugh. They still think life occurs in a vacuum.

These Boots

It is a good thing Sonnet and I enjoy spending time together - imagine if otherwise? (I double-check to make sure she feels this way too). Here we are at the airport - still - and she looks pretty go-go with her boots. I'm driving her crazy by repeating oo-la-la.

"

You keep lying, when you oughta be truthin'
and you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.
You keep samin' when you oughta be changin'.
Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you"

Nancy Sinatra, baby

CDG

Our plane delayed so I amuse myself - pictured. Here is what you need to know about the Charles de Gaulle International Airport: it's awful. It takes two hours to get there during rush-hour, has funky design meant for automobiles (the newer terminals may collapse) and it is utterly confusing+the security takes twice as long as any airport I have ever been through. The international flights - forget it. Unlike Heathrow, the second worst airport on the planet, CDG still has some runway capacity - 68% vs 98% - and the planes don't fly over the center city, oh boy. Sonnet frets about flying, seeing the kids and the weekend, which is jam-packed with activities including Eitan's eight birthday party - but more on that later. Our flight delay only ads to the unrest and shortens are Friday night sadly. Have I mentioned the Eurostar not taking bookings until after 30 September? It ain't soon enough brother.

Here are the Top Ten airports by passengers
Atlanta International 89,379,287
O'Hare 76,177,855
London Heathrow 68,068,304
Tokyo International 66,823,414
LAX 61,896,075
CDG 59,922,177
Dallas-Ft Worth 59,786,476
Frankfurt Airport 54,161,856
Beijing Capital Airport 53,583,664
Madrid International 52,122,702

Chuck Jaeger Montrose Regional Airport: I couldn't find passenger data, but assume it is less than one-million. Stan?

Bois D'Englais

Here is my wise and beautiful wife in front of our hotel on rue Boissy-D'Angles next to the American Embassy. They close the road, which is guarded by gendarmes, so it is a quiet place between place de la Concorde and rue du Faubourg-St-Honoree which is Paris's New Bond Street. We sit around having a goof awaiting a taxi. The evening prior our dinner with Astorg fascinating - good food, best wine and nice people offering a genuine insight into the Parisienne which I rarely enjoy (even after 12 years, I have precious little insight into the British). My language remains adequate but I no longer fear using it, which is probably half the battle. Of course champagne and wine help too. I discuss America with my neighbors who are amazed by the scale of the USA - even today - a $700 billion bailout? Mon Dieu! The amount is inconceivable. They are also fascinated by the US presidential elections and without exception favor Obama, even if they do not know his policies nor experience. As an ambassador for the United States, we agree, McCain would be a set-back (mon Dieu). In the other direction I want to know about Sarkozy and Carla: "a national embarrassement", "he has lost the plot" and the embodiment of The Fonz (this last chestnut from me); regardless everybody has Carla's CD. It is about the celebrity afterall.

Carla Bruni's magazine covers:
- Argentina: 'Elle' - November 1996
- Australia: 'Elle' - January & November 1995; 'Elle' - December 1996
- France: 'Femme' - March 1992; 'Elle' - October 24, 1994; 'L'Officiel' - May 1995; 'Max' - March 1996; 'Elle' - April 27 1998; 'Elle' - December 2002; 'Marie Claire' - December 2002; 'Paris Match' - June 12, 2003; 'Elle' - July 18, 2005
- Hong Kong: 'Elle' - August 1996
- Italy: 'MODA' - October 1992; 'Vogue' - March 1993; 'Glamour' - September 1995; 'Vanity Fair' - February 2 2007
- Spain: 'Vogue' - July 1988; 'Elle' - June 1995; 'Woman' - 1997; 'Mujer Hoy' - #414, March 2007
- UK: 'Marie Claire' - May 1990; 'Vogue' - August 1993; 'Elle' - October 1995.

Tower

What is amazing about the Eiffel Tower is that it exists at all. I mean one dude decided: hey, I'm gonna build this god damn thing, and somehow he got France to give him a shit-load of money. There was no commercial reason otherwise. Gustave must have pissed off a lot of people in his way.

Did you know that the lift cables were cut in 1940 so that Hitler would have to climb the steps to the summit? The parts to repair them were allegedly impossible to obtain because of the war. In 1940 German soldiers had to climb to the top to hoist the swastika, but the flag was so large it blew away just a few hours later, and it was replaced by a smaller one. When visiting Paris, Hitler chose to stay on the ground. It was said that Hitler conquered France, but did not conquer the Eiffel Tower. A Frenchman scaled the tower during the German occupation to hang the French flag. In August 1944, when the Allies were nearing Paris, Hitler ordered General Dietrich von Choltitz, the military governor of Paris, to demolish the tower along with the rest of the city. Von Choltitz disobeyed the order. The lifts of the Tower were working normally within hours of the Liberation.

Kids

Having lunch in front of Eiffel, we watch (OK, I snoop) on a group of privileged teenagers who take their school break (I surmise) and smoke cigarettes and flirt. There is a strange dynamic between the two girls who are relaxed and mature and the guys, who seem uncomfortable and vie for their affections while expressing their own machismo/ belonging by flirting with each other. Despite their yuf there is something a bit threatening - the group in their own private Idaho and somehow explosive or at least charged (or maybe I have Larry Clark's '95 "Kids" on my mind - that movie about wealthy sexually predatory and violent teenagers in Manhattan). Sonnet begs me not to take pictures so obviously but I cannot resist.

Before the tower, we visit Paris's newest museum: Musée du Quai Branly which features indigenous art, cultures and civilizations from Africa, Asia, Oceania and the Americas. The doors opened in June 2006 and the last go of that blow-hard Jacques Chirac, whose affection for African and Asian art and resolve to make a political gesture to the third world ensured the museums completion on time and on his presidency. This at least honorable. It is a wonderful, strange place designed by architect Jean Nouvel at a cost of $265 million, which seems kinda low-ball by today's standards. Inside are masks, spears, artifacts, jewelery, skins, statues and &c. which are displayed by geographic area. It is interest to observe how different peoples living in similar proximity express themselves so differently. This applies over time as well, and the museum offers a sense of humanity in flux. It ain't Babaar, that is for sure and for-tune-atelee.


"The history of the world is not just the history of the Mediterranean and Europe. Our ultimate aim is to give non-Western art its place."
Stéphane Martin, the director general of the Musée du Quai Branly, June 23, 2006

Le Faubourg

Me and Sonnet in Paris on Thursday (I have some catching up to do on this blog). We catch an early morning plan (the Eurostar not taking bookings thanks to an explosion in one of the tunnels two weeks ago. What is up with that?) and have the day to ourselves before dinner with Astorg partners at Laurent in the 8th arrondisement. It is a beautiful Indian summer - same all weekend - and I sit in Tuileries while Sonnet sees La Mode at the Louvre. I am quite happy to sit by myself for a perfect hour contemplating, well, anything that comes to mind. Eitan and Madeleine happy for Aggie, who spends the night and drops them at school Friday morning. In the background is the impending bailout, which makes us feel unsettled, not helped by el Presidente who informs us "this sucker could go down" without the Paulson $700 billion liquidity program sans any oversight whatsoever. This guy has not done one thing - not one thing - for our country.

“If money isn’t loosened up, this sucker could go down."
President Bush declared Thursday, September 25

So 1959

In 1959 the Soviet Union and United States agreed to trade expos. All went all-out to show theirs better. Vice-Pres Nixon and Khruschev tour the American kitchen (note ample bread) and debate on merits of Russian and U.S. way of life - pictured (photo from the V A archives). In Moscow, the Soviet Premier sees a montage of Americanism including Manhattan skyscrapers, golden bridges and busy people in the heat of consumption. Highways and highways and highways take motorists to and from in their shiny cars, all lovingly displayed at the V A's Cold War Modern show. We see mostly white, but also some black citizens in city hats, skinny ties and briefcases; women plump their children who jump the school bus playing cowboys. Duck and cover, baby. What a freaky time this was.

Cold War Modern

After lunch, Jan and I visit the V A to see design from 1945-1970, which otherwise opens to the public tomorrow (thank you Sonnet). Here is what the brief says:

"The decades after the Second World War saw an intense rivalry between the world's two superpowers: the Soviet Union and America. In the 'cold war' that ensued, the two powers engaged in aggressive contests to build their own spheres of influence. they accelerated the development of new technologies to produce weapons, launched ambitious space programmes and waged propaganda campaigns across the world.

Vying to outdo one another, each deployed displays of modern living, signs of progress and images of future utopias. Art, architecture and design were drawn into this Cold War competition to demonstrate a superior vision of modernity.

Modern life after 1945 seemed to promise both utopia and catastrophe. By 1949, both of the world's superpowers's had acquired the capacity to annihilate one another with nuclear weapons. Twenty years later, man had walked on the moon.

Modernists artist and designers responded to this dual vision, searching for ways to build a new and hopeful future and deal with anxieties of the present.

(Photograph of Edward Mann hat by John French, 1965)

-> Sitting next to us at lunch BTW is Russian oligarch Boris Berezovsky. I notice his girlfriend first (believe me).

Comps

I think this would be less fantastic if not for A) McC did not know how many houses he owns; B) stated his history of buying American automobiles (at least three foreign); and C) noted that upper class begins $5 million. He and Cindy own more toys than the CEO-Wall Street fat cats he now berates, despite their having earned it. No wonder Cindy won't release those tax returns... . .

Princess

Madeleine this morning complains of a back-ache (and "I don't want to go to yoga" she adds). I look at her shocked: "Do you really have a back ache? Do you?" She is a bit taken aback and I inform her incredulously: "Last night while you were asleep I put a pea under your mattress!" Madeleine turns to her brother for confirmation that she is being had: "Is it true Eitan? Is it?" Of course he is grinning and we all crack up at the joke. At yoga, Eitan tells everybody he can that I put a pea under Madeleine's bed. Photo from July '05.

Me: how many words in ice cream?
Madeleine: One
How many in "jump"?
Two?


John McCain, are you in there?

Sen. John McCain’s top campaign aides convened a conference call today to complain of being called "liars." They pressed the media to scrutinize specific elements of Sen. Barack Obama’s record.

But the call was so rife with simple, often inexplicable misstatements of fact that it may have had the opposite effect: to deepen the perception, dangerous to McCain, that he and his aides have little regard for factual accuracy.

The errors in McCain strategist Steve Schmidt’s charges against Obama and Sen. Joe Biden were particularly notable because they seemed unnecessary. Schmidt repeatedly gilded the lily: He exaggerated the Biden family's already problematic ties to the credit card industry; Obama’s embarrassing relationship with a 1960s radical; and an Obama supporter’s over-the-top attack on Sarah Palin when — in each case — the truth would have been damaging enough.

"Any time the Obama campaign is criticized at any level, the critics are immediately derided as liars," Schmidt told reporters.

But as he went on to list a series of stories he thought reporters should be writing about Obama and Biden, in almost every instance he got the details wrong.

Penguins

To the race track.

Have you ever explained a trillion to a six year old? Not easy. Ronald Reagan made an attempt in his '82 State of the Union Address:

"I've been trying ... to think of a way to illustrate how big a trillion is. The best that I could come up with is that if you had a stack of $1000 bills in your hand only four inches high you would be a millionaire. A trillion dollars would be a stack of $1000-dollar bills 67 miles high."

Four inches would make you a millionaire. During Reagan, the national debt tripled from the $993 billion to $2.6 trillion, or a 174 miles high. Compared with the current White House, however, Reagan was thrifty. Bush has added $4 trillion to the debt making our stack of $1000s 697 miles+119 days left in his term+another trillion-dollars for the bailout. OMG.

So here is what a trillion-dollars gets you these days (besides 10% of our GDP):

- every woman, man and child in the United States $3278

- twelve times what the federal government spends each year on transportation

- ten times what it spends on education

- Six times what Senator Obama has vowed to spend over 10 years for energy independence.

- It is 19% more than NASA's budget for the entire half century the space agency has been in existence.

- It's 38% more than this year's bloated Pentagon budget.

- It's 60% of what's needed to renew and repair America's entire infrastructure of bridges and roads.

- It's 50% of what's needed to provide universal health coverage for all Americans.

(Thank you Daily Kos for the datas)

"In my judgment, the risk of this regulatory approach is simply unacceptable for America's investors."
Arthur Levitt, longest serving Chairman of the SEC, in 1999 or the same year as the Gramm-Leach-Blilely Act

"The public adore me. I haven't got a bad word to say about Paul. Men are falling over themselves to ask me out. My only interest in life is helping others."

Heather Mills, September 22

sussex

Here are crew pit girls in their period piece. This is how I imagine, more or less, British women circa WWII. The drivers and mechanics are men with exceptions: Maria Teresa De Filippis was the first woman to participate in a Formula One event in 1958 and this year she reunites with her Maserati 250F at Goodwood to take a few laps 'round the track.

The kids spend Saturday with Christian, who is otherwise on his way to Spain for a two week bike-trek. He spoils the kids with ice cream, pizza and football - just as it should be. Renata takes over Sunday morning allowing Christian to the airport and while we return late Sunday. It is a beautiful Indian summer and in truth, it is hard for us to pull away from Chichester and the estate. Ah, the peace Dear Brother. The peace.

Gordon Brown is on the talkies Sunday arguing his case. He's a cool cat despite the Labour rebels who call for 'is 'ed. Labour's convention takes place in Brighton and not surprisingly it is about the economy (stupid). Britain's borrowing rate has quickly accelerated from £512 billion in January to £620 billion and growing. As a percent of GDP, debt has gone from 30% in 2002 to 35% despite an economic expansion (The Centre for Policy Studies BTW sites higher figures than Treasury: £1,340 billion or 103.5 per cent of GDP). While high, other countries worse: Japan had a National debt of 158% at the height of their recession and the US national debt is over 65% of GDP when unfunded liablities included (and who knows after the bail-out+Iraq?) Anyway, Brown argues that he is the steady Eddy to guide our economy following his many years as Chancellor. For the moment, his party seems to agree - now probably not a good time to shoot the pilot. He is on borrowed time regardless.

International Flag Signals (from the race program)
Red: Signal for complete and immediate stop
Yellow (waved): Great danger, be prepared to stop. Do not overtake
Yellow (motionless): Take care, danger. Do not overtake.
Yellow with vertical red stripes: Take care, surface slippery as oil or similar fluid has been spilled on the road.
Blue (waved): Another competitor is trying to overtake you
Blue (motionless): Another competitor is following you very closely
White: An ambulance or slow-moving vehicle is on the circuit.
Black (with car number): Signal for the competitor to stop on the next lap.
Black with white chequered: Signal for the winner and end of the race.

Goodwood Revival

Sonnet and I are guests of David and Tabitha at the Goodwood revival held on the estate of Charles Henry Gordon-Lennox, Earl of March and Kinrara (for those who care, the Earl is the heir apparent of the 10th Duke of Richmond, 10th Duke of Lennox and 5th Duke of Gordon - in short: rich). Once a year, roadsters are invited to compete in a weekend of wonderful racing and viewers required to wear period dress from the British 1950s and 1960s (Sonnet in heaven). There is even a Volvo 544 in one of the races ! A champagne ball themed "Oriental" (we debate whether this a politically correct expression but in Southwest England, so what?) ends with fire works and dancing . Fun! Here is a summary from Wikipedia:

The Goodwood Revival is a 3-day festival held each September for the types of cars and motorcycles that would have competed during the circuit's original period - 1948-1966. It is one of the world’s most popular motor race meetings and the only UK event which recreates the golden era of motor sport from the 1950s and 1960s. The festival acts as a showcase for exceptional wheel-to-wheel racing around a classic circuit, untouched by the modern world and relives the glory days of Goodwood Motor Racing Circuit, which ranked alongside Silverstone as Britain’s leading racing venue throughout its active years. Between 1948 and 1966 Goodwood hosted contemporary racing of all kinds, including Formula One, the famous Goodwood Nine Hours race and the celebrated Tourist Trophy sports car race.

The festival includes the Grand Prix cars from the Fifties and Sixties, sports and GT cars, as well as historic saloon cars and little-seen Formula Juniors. Many of these important historic racing cars are driven by famous names from motor sport past and present.

The restored circuit is unchanged from its heyday and many visitors wear appropriate period clothing and no modern vehicles are allowed within the circuit perimeter throughout the weekend. There are also theatrical sets that bring the past back to life. Photo from Classic Driver.com

Shades On

Madeleine wakes in a sad mood, made worse when she learns Sonnet cannot walk her to school. She wails genuine tears and it is not simply a matter of telling her "enough!" (as one does). Today requires comforting and patience and slowly she comes out of it: "Scones! Dad, can I have two?" The following school run uneventful. I sing loudly to embarrass the Shakespeares. The un-clipped Eitan tells Joe-Y-H that he is going to get a quarter inch haircut. The boy has been talking about this for some time and Sunday appears to be the day. We shall see. Sonnet attends fashion during Fashion Week, which gets considerable media coverage and the cat-walks host the good and the great. Last night we have dinner with her former colleague Lizzy, whose parents were both dons at Oxford, and Ferdie. Ferdie is responsible for risk at his commercial bank - he is not optimistic BTW though he is otherwise an optimist.

Madeleine looking like Katie.

Here are a few useful expressions from da yuf:

AC/DC - bisexual
Aks: To ask. E.g."I aksed him to move his car from the driveway."
Away from the mixer: Not quite in touch with reality, in a dreamy state
Alkie: An alcoholic. Also spelt alky.
All mouth and no trousers: Boastful and without just reason. E.g."You shouldn't pay any attention to him, he's all mouth and no trousers."