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	06 May 2004 PHOTO DIARY. Where is he now? Renee Magritte is currently taking a break from painting and is now part of IAC's cleaning staff. "He's so damn unknowable," co-workers complain.   Back to main PHOTO DIARY. I forgot to mention that me & Nik went to New York last weekend to visit her friends from Cornell at their house located an hour north of the city near Ossining, formerly known by the less savory name of Sing Sing. Anyhoo. There are trees on the east coast. Real trees -- not the brown featherduster palm trees lining the dusty freeways of LA. Their house has a clear view of the Hudson River. Nicki's friend's mother died recently, of cancer. So we visited to give support, and ruminate on how drastically life can change when a parent dies. It's something we think about more and more these days.   Back to main 05 May 2004 BOOK: BOBOS IN PARADISE (2000). What happens when bourgeois pigs and hippies get together to make babies? Bobos, that's what! Bourgeois Bohemians, the subject of this amusing sociological taxonomy-slash-gripefest, are the Bens & Jerrys of the world. The study-hard/play-hard types that hold three ivy league degrees, drive SUVs with "Save Tibet" bumper stickers, or feed their pets only the most premium grass-fed ground beef. Author David Brooks is a pretty damn funny writer, gifted with the ability to write such stick-wagging harangues as this one about travel snobs: "I suppose you can get by with a little Chinook?" They don't say "I know" such-and-such a language. They'll say, "I have a little Portuguese" or "I have a few of the romance languages, of course," in that faux offhand manner that makes you want to stick the person's head in a vise and squeeze it until their eyes pop out. Unfortunately, few people act on this noble impulse, even though they know that when such a person appears, the Vietnam syndrome is not far behind. This is the psychosis that causes people to steer all their conversations to a single destination: their life-altering trip to Vietnam. Man. That is some choice, well-written bile. Brooks, with consistently exhilarating brio, covers lots of the mores of this new meritocratic elite, from school, sex, travel, work, and children, to name a few. The work feels less like a book and more like a highly polished collection of rollicking magazine articles--which ain't bad. He saves his big philosophical guns for the end, positing that bobos, in being comfortable with both '60's idealism and '80's ecomonic realism, are spearheading a new, more responsible form of capitalism increasingly founded on creativity and intuition. Even more interestingly, he states that as bobos patch together more and more of their trademark Rules for Living (i.e. political correctness, playdates for children) in an effort to regain some of the stability upended during the '60's, they actually wind up having more in common with their anal-rententive predecessors, the Victorians. Having learned that bohemian ideals of unrestrained anarchy are valuable but impossible to sustain, bobos paradoxically pursue their freedoms quietly and politely, each ensconced in their own personal spiritual bubble customized to their needs. It only takes a single weekend to read, but when you're done you'll find yourself scrutinizing every Birkenstocks-n-socks-wearing, ponytailed CFO from here to Seattle.   Back to main 03 May 2004 MOVIE: ALONG CAME POLLY (2004). Here we go again: Ben Stiller plays a skittish risk assessor who falls for a free-spirited neo-bohemian played by Jennifer Aniston. Basically, Along Came Polly is not so much a movie as it is a celebrity vehicle with funny bits sprinkled in here and there. You'll find yourself chuckling through your nose now and then, if only to relieve the disappointment at the total lack of chemistry between Stiller and Aniston. We have the toilet humor; we have the witty, frank discussions between best male buddies that can only take place whilst playing basketball; we have plenty of Those Wacky Jews; and we have the exhausting exercise of animal slapstick, this time in the form of a ferret instead of the usual dog. Although I do firmly believe in the how over the what of a movie, some foods just don't reheat well, and this film may be last-minute evidence that the post-Something About Mary era has slowed to a gentle stop. Little Polly Flinders Sat among the cinders Warming her pretty little toes; Her mother came and caught her, whipped her little daughter For spoiling her nice new clothes.   Back to main MOVIE: PAYCHECK (2003). John Woo tries to re-capture his exhilarating trademark melodrama in this absolute failure of a movie. Ben Affleck plays a brilliant freelance circuit designer who has his memory erased after each job as a sort of futuristic non-disclosure agreement. He never remembers his jobs. After finishing an unusual 3-year gig, he wakes up to find himself running for his life with only a bag of mysterious personal objects to clue him in to his predicament. As it turns out, he's spent the last three years designing a machine that can see into the future; everyone wants it, and only he knows that the machine ultimately causes to global war and extinction. A good plot line, actually. Pity. Affleck, a sad stand-in for John Travolta, spends the entire film huffing and puffing in a fit of desperate overacting. And Uma Thurman, far too savvy and talented for her role as the damsel in distress, seems almost embarassed even to be standing near him. Many weapon rounds are fired; many things blow up. In the end, not even Woo's white pigeons in slo-mo flight can save this monumental dung pyramid. See Broken Arrow or Face Off instead. Remember the Future.   Back to main Archives. 17 August 2003 — 24 August 2003 — 31 August 2003 — 07 September 2003 — 14 September 2003 — 02 November 2003 — 09 November 2003 — 16 November 2003 — 23 November 2003 — 30 November 2003 — 07 December 2003 — 01 February 2004 — 08 February 2004 — 15 February 2004 — 22 February 2004 — 29 February 2004 — 07 March 2004 — 14 March 2004 — 21 March 2004 — 28 March 2004 — 04 April 2004 — 11 April 2004 — 18 April 2004 — 25 April 2004 — 02 May 2004 — 09 May 2004 — 16 May 2004 — 23 May 2004 — 30 May 2004 — 06 June 2004 — 13 June 2004 — 20 June 2004 — 27 June 2004 — 04 July 2004 — 11 July 2004 — 18 July 2004 — 25 July 2004 — 01 August 2004 — 08 August 2004 — 15 August 2004 — 22 August 2004 — 29 August 2004 — 05 September 2004 — 12 September 2004 — 19 September 2004 — 26 September 2004 — 03 October 2004 — 10 October 2004 — 17 October 2004 — 24 October 2004 — 31 October 2004 — 07 November 2004 — 14 November 2004 — 21 November 2004 — 28 November 2004 — 05 December 2004 — 12 December 2004 — 19 December 2004 — 26 December 2004 — 02 January 2005 — 09 January 2005 — 23 January 2005 — 30 January 2005 — 06 February 2005 — 13 February 2005 — 20 February 2005 — 27 February 2005 — 13 March 2005 — 20 March 2005 — 27 March 2005 — 03 April 2005 — 10 April 2005 — 17 April 2005 — 24 April 2005 — 01 May 2005 — 08 May 2005 — 22 May 2005 — 29 May 2005 — 05 June 2005 — 12 June 2005 — 19 June 2005 — 26 June 2005 — 03 July 2005 — 10 July 2005 — 17 July 2005 — 24 July 2005 — 31 July 2005 — 07 August 2005 — 14 August 2005 — 28 August 2005 — 04 September 2005 — 25 September 2005 — 02 October 2005 — 09 October 2005 — 30 October 2005 — 06 November 2005 — 13 November 2005 — 20 November 2005 — 27 November 2005 — 04 December 2005 — 18 December 2005 — 01 January 2006 — 08 January 2006 — 15 January 2006 — 22 January 2006 — 05 February 2006 — 26 February 2006 — 12 March 2006 — 19 March 2006 — 26 March 2006 — 02 April 2006 — 16 April 2006 — 23 April 2006 — 30 April 2006 — 07 May 2006 — 14 May 2006 — 21 May 2006 — 04 June 2006 — 18 June 2006 — 25 June 2006 — 16 July 2006 — 23 July 2006 — 06 August 2006 — 13 August 2006 — 03 September 2006 — 17 September 2006 — 01 October 2006 —