October 6, 2016--Disputatio Interruptus

There must have been some method to Tim Kaine's madness the other night during the vice-presidential debate.

From almost the first minute, like someone with neurological issues, Kaine compulsively interrupted his opponent, Mike Pence. As a result, even most Democrats agreed, in spite of his reactionary views, the colorless Indiana governor carried the night.

One is left then to speculate whether Donald Trump will benefit. Since he could claim to have picked the better running mate will he be able to extrapolate this to successfully assert that, if elected, he will pick better qualified cabinet officers?

This assumes anyone was watching.

We attempted to.

Fortified with freshly brewed tea and homemade coconut macaroons, Rona and I were all set to watch for the entire 90 minutes. But because of Kaine's disputatio interruptus, after 20 minutes, we retired to the bedroom to curl up with our books. Me to Burton Hersh's devastating Bobby and J. Edgar, Rona to a galleys copy of our friend Reggie Nadelson's new book about Balthazar, the New York hotspot cafe and bistro.

Overnight, knowing how highly Virginia friends regard former governor and current senator Tim Kaine, I wondered what motivated him to interrupt literally 70 times. About every 30 seconds when Pence was attempting to talk.

The 70-interruption statistic is not made up but comes from The Hill, which is clearly obsessed with arcane matters.

Further, Neilsen's track of viewer attention found a trajectory similar to ours--minute-by-minute people drifted away from the debate until perhaps half as many who began were watching. Or, perhaps equally likely, sleeping with the TV still on.

"I think that what we did," Rona suggested, "was exactly what the Clinton-Kaine political operatives were hoping. That we'd give up on the debate and either troll around looking for something else to watch or switch the TV off altogether."

"Go on."

"With an increasing lead in the polls as Trump flounders in greater and greater absurdity, with a month to go, they want to sit on the lead. One way to do that is to get people literally to tune out and vote early."

"If true," I said, "and I think yours is a good point, it will be interesting to see what Hillary's strategy is on Sunday when she and Trump debate again."

"So if you're Hillary keeping it boring is the new agenda."

"If so, Kaine had a really good night. He put 20 million American's to sleep.

January 31, 2014--Sneaks

Near where we live in downtown Manhattan, on Lafayette Place, there are a couple of stores that sell athletic shoes.

A few times a year when we are walking south to get to Balthazar or the Smile for morning coffee, we see lined up on the sidewalk at those shops hundreds of young people, kids really--some in tents since they have been living on the street for a couple of days--camped out in all weather, which is frequently nasty, waiting, they tell us, to be among the first to get the newest edition of Air Jordans or some such.

List price, especially if they are in their original wrapper and box--these J's are not for use in schoolyard games, but collectors' items--they are as coveted by these kids as is an Andy Warhol to hedge fund managers that is up for auction at Sotheby's--at the store, the Jordans these days go for up to $150.

And then one can find them offered on eBay the next day for at least twice that. Again, if they are in the original, unblemished box.

Some of the kids on line tell us that they are really placeholders or agents for others. They've been promised a couple hundred bucks to wait out in the rain by someone willing to pay them $500 for a pair. Again, if and only if they are in a pristine box.

Not bad. Five hundred bucks to sit out in the rain or snow for a couple of days.

"Hey, can anybody here find a straight job?"

"Not me, man. I'm livin' again with my Mom."

There are enough models to make your head spin and like any other commodity (that, ultimately is what the Jordans are) there's a lot of inside knowledge and background any investor or collector needs to know in order to get good value and upside asset potential.

Like the Air Jordan XIII's, for example, which . . .

. . . were released in 1997. This model was known for its cushioning along the feet, designed by Hatfield. The black panther was the inspiration for the Air Jordan XIII, the sole resembles the pads on a panther's paw. But also the panther is the hologram on the back of the shoe which imitates a panther's eyes in the dark when light is shined on them. They were rereleased in 2005, which coincided with the release of the Air Jordan 8s shoe. 

In the movie He Got Game, the Air Jordan XIII was worn by Jake Shuttlesworth (Denzel Washington). Ray Allen, who played Jake's son Jesus in the film, wore them when he broke Reggie Millers's all-time record for made three-point shots during a game against the Lakers in Boston during the 2011 season. The Jordan brand re-released the Air Jordan XIII at the end of 2010, which included the French Blue/Flint Grey, White/Red-Black, 'Playoff' color way and the Black/Altitude Green color way. 

The Air Jordan XIII was originally released from 1997 to 1998. It was retroed in 2004, 2005, 2008, 2010, 2011, and 2013.

Got that? You better if you're even thinking about investing.

I was reminded about this glimpse of the underground economy by a story the other day in the Times about P.J. Tucker of the Phoenix Suns basketball team and his sneaker collection.

That's what they are--sneakers--not "athletic shoes." Athletic shoes are for over-weight, over-pampered kids from uptown prep schools.

Tucker has more than 2,000 pairs in his collection. 2000! Not all Jordans but a lot of those nonetheless.

And he's not alone. Many NBA and MLB stars not only cash in through sneaker endorsements but have huge collections of their own.

Evan Tucker, the Philadelphia 76ers point guard also has at least 2,000 in his. He confesses that he gorged on 57 pairs recently in a single afternoon of shopping at Sole Control. No sleeping on Lafayette for him.

He stashes them all over the place but mainly in four big closets in his basement, while waiting to figure out a permeant place to display them.

Learning that Jeremy Guthrie of the Kansas City Royals has a special vault for his kicks, Turner says, "I want to do something dope like that for mine."

December 6, 2013--Breakfast

For 30 years Rona and I, almost every morning, have gone out for breakfast. Let me correct that--not almost every morning but every morning.

It was less about the coffee and food than the people. At Balthazar, in Manhattan's SoHo, for nearly 15 of those 30 years, until last year, every day, at table 85 in the bar area, we would join friends who, like us, were seeking community and companionship.

Some days those friends could number more than a dozen and we would push tables together to accommodate all of us. Since the group included people from a variety of backgrounds, interests, and professional life--filmmakers, interior designers, book publishers, performance artists, Wall Street lawyers, anthropologists, novelists, chefs, actors, carpenters, opera directors--with breakfasters from such a wide range of callings, discussions ranged from the serious (what to do in the Middle East and the results of friends' colonoscopies) to the sly (gossip about who else was in the room--"Is that Yoko?").

It was sweet and stimulating, which, like other evanescent realities, succumbed to time and changing circumstances. For one, Balthazar became a go-to place for breakfast and brunch and it was no longer possible to hold so many tables because Jonathan Miller or Nigella Lawson had just arrived from London and might pop in to join us.

Then also, as with Rona and me, work realities shifted, schedules needed to be adjusted, and some of us were no longer so much in town. In our case, we essentially moved to Maine and Florida and retained just a loving, periodic connection to Manhattan and Balth.

In Maine there is the Bristol Diner, a perfect place for a simple breakfast and a gathering place, like Balthazar in its own way, for an even more diverse group of local and seasonable residents--from lobstermen to orthopedic surgeons to federal judges to telephone linemen. So, when there, we can be found almost every morning in one of  the Bristol's five booths, sometimes ensconced for two or three hours as friends drift in and out.

And in Delray Beach, we have a similar reality at the Green Owl. Breakfast in both places for us is an ideal way to emerge to full morning consciousness among people we care about and with whom each day we eagerly look forward to spending time and exchanging stories--some real, much made up.

But then, in New York, all of this has suddenly changed--we are having breakfast at home.

And loving it.

The other morning Rona said, "After nearly 30 years of going out for breakfast, which is very luxurious, having breakfast in my pajamas with the newspaper delivered to our door, feels really luxurious."

"And," I agreed, "we're saving a lot of money."

"That's true, but not really what's important to me. We're doing what we want to do. No pressure to get up and out. That's what's important."

"True. But still I like the idea that we're saving at least $15 a day. That really adds up."

Rona turned her attention to the Style section.

"Really," I said, "Add it up. What did we have this morning? You had an egg (which since it was organic cost about 30 cents and was cooked in maybe a nickel's worth of butter) and pumpkin bread toast (about 50 cents worth) and English breakfast tea (say, 25 cents for the teabag). And I had a--"

"Do we really have to do this? I was having such a sweet time and all you can think about is how much butter I used."

"We don't have to do this, but I'm only trying to make a point."

"Go on then. But please, make it brief."

"I had a croissant with jam (I think we paid $2.75 for that at Dean and Deluca) and a mug of Medaglia D'Oro instant espresso (which cost maybe 20 cents, plus about a dime's worth of warmed half-and-half)." Smiling at Rona, I said, "I'm done."

"How much was the jam and what about the gas and electricity we used to defrost the croissant and cook the egg? Did you figure that in?"

Not realizing she was making fun of me, I thought, "Maybe 15 cents for the jam--it's from France--and we'll see about the gas and electric when we get the next Con Ed bill. But don't forget we don't have to pay tax at home--what is it, about 9 percent?--or leave a tip. I think you leave at least $5.00 every morning." Rona nodded.

"So let me do a quick calculation." I went to get paper and a pen. "At Balth my double espresso is, what, seven dollars and the croissant $4.50. And your egg and toast would be at least $5.00, plus your tea would be $2.00 more."

"Two-fifty. And half a grapefruit, if you're crazy enough to order it, is $10. Ten freaking dollars!" Rona said under her breath.

"So at Balth the same breakfasts plus tax and tip would go for about $25; whereas here it cost us only about $4.00, not including utilities." Self-satsified, I smiled toward Rona who by then was buried in the crossword puzzle.

"I mean, in addition to being delicious and nice and so schmoozy to have breakfast in pajamas, we saved at least $20, which means, if we did this only five days a week (and at the moment we're pretty much eating in every day) we'd save more than $100 a week. Which adds up to real money."

"Agreed," Rona admitted without looking up.

"So what about tomorrow? What are you in the mood for?

"Must we? I'm just trying to enjoy this morning."

"Let's see, we have eggs of course and can make wonderful French toast from Agata & Valentina's pumpkin bread. Or have some of those terrific Bay's English muffins; or waffles--we have Eggos for old-times sake but also the ones we bought the other day at Fairway in Red Hook that are made in France; and we also have various kinds of bagels--you like bagels sometimes; and your McCann's steel cut oatmeal, which you've been serving with brown sugar and sliced up dried figs; and granola; even oat scones from the Balthazar bakery and--"

"Enough! I just ate and already you're talking about eating."

"I only . . ."