One of Citigroup’s bankers representing Puerto Rico in its effort to restructure its $70billion debt, David Brownstein, is rescuing Puerto Rico’s stray dogs:
Puerto Rico’s Pooches Jet Off to the Hamptons. Stray dogs are flown to new homes on mainland on private planes
Once airborne for the mainland, Mr. Brownstein, Citi’s head of public finance, got up from his seat to reassure a nervous flier, a black, 20-pound stray dog named Dulce Maria.
Dulce Maria gazed wide-eyed around the private jet, which was littered with comforts, including overstuffed chairs and trays of pastry—a far cry from scrounging for scraps in the dumpsters of beach bars. Mr. Brownstein and his team coaxed the shivering canine out of her pet carrier, fed her a turkey sandwich from the plane’s catering, swaddled her in a blanket and set her in the lap of one of the dog rescuers, a model.
The dogs then get placed in shelters in the Hamptons and Jersey Shore.
I could use a charter flight to Hamptons and Jersey Shore during the high season, along with a turkey sandwich from the plane’s catering and a blanket (you can keep the model – I’m not really into models unless they are the old guys in Dodge Ram and Viagra ads), but what’s making me jealous is that two of the dogs, Anne and Amelia, got a front-page hedcut, the ultimate status symbol among the cognoscenti.
I won’t link to it since it’s hatebait, because it’s written to be mocked, but linked each time it’s mocked, but if one is to believe the NYT, what makes a man, as Ace puts it,
is simply behaving like a liberal, urban white woman (the actual target demographic of this piece).
I’ve never met the author of the NYT article, but I’ve met Ace, who indeed is modern, and a man, and I agree with his assessment.
The NYT’s modern man owns a melon baller.
But I digress.
I’ve also met Lileks, another modern man, who went to town dissecting the NYT’s idea of a modern man, only that Lileks is pitch-perfect,
Does the modern man have a melon baller? What do you think? How else would the cantaloupe, watermelon and honeydew he serves be so uniformly shaped?
So has his wife. Maybe when the kids are gone.
The modern man has thought seriously about buying a shoehorn.
But not those plastic ones. Something elegant with a bone handle. There has to be a place in the Village that sells them. That sells only shoehorns. There will be an old man who knows his craft, and the store will be old and cluttered and you know like European? And he will learn something about the art of the shoehorn, and the traditions of the makers, and the old man will be pleased to help him, because most people these days, they don’t care about the old ways.
The modern man lies on the side of the bed closer to the door. If an intruder gets in, he will try to fight him off, so that his wife has a chance to get away.
Stay away Mr. Burglar or you are going to get such a melon balling
Steven Miller, who I haven’t met, corrects the modern man,
The modern man does not use a mellon baller as anything other than a cereal spoon.
So the NYT succeeds at a hatebait, generating lots of posts (mine included), but my favorite so far is John del Signore’s, N+0 Ways To Be A Postmodern Man
The postmodern man and the modern man are both part of the same privileged white man hypocrisy, and never more so as when they compose deliberately insufferable listicles to be published purely for the sake of feeding bite-sized content into a rapidly devolving banner ad shell game.
Take it away, George!
Blogging on LatAm shall resume shortly.
Via Mr. Bingley