Third Term Turmoil

Update: It's official: term limits on NYC public officials have been extended from two terms to three. City Room has the details.


I'd like to take a break, just for a moment, from national politics.

Over at the NY Times, City Room is reporting that, "The City Council’s Committee on Governmental Operations voted unanimously on Thursday morning to extend term limits for New York City’s elected officials." This would be a big step forward for Mayor Bloomberg's aspirations of running for a third term.

There's lots of righteous indignation popping up in the comments below the article, which baffles me for a few reasons:

Mayor Bloomberg is wildly popular. Even after announcing his desire to run for a controversal third term, his approval rating remains at 69%, not far from his previously recorded 71% approval rating, which was noted by Quinnipiac University in July.

Now, I'm sure some of you are thinking: Mike, you moron, mayoral approval ratings are not the same thing as wanting to extend term limits. Well, that's a fair point, which is why I linked to that Quinnipiac poll. It notes a not-so-insignificant 56% of New Yorkers are against extending term limits. Why? I suspect they're confused. I will explain.

There are two refrains I keep hearing from people:

First, that getting rid of term limits makes "a shambles of democracy." But no one is proposing getting rid of term limits, just extending them. Yes, the President of the United States is restricted to serving only two terms. But Senators and House Representatives in Congress are not. Of course, the Mayor of New York City is neither of those things, so, how about we decide for ourselves?

Which brings me to the second oft-invoked refrain: the voters of this city have already voted against extending term limits. This is true, the voters did do this... over a decade ago! In 1993 and 1996, to be exact.

So, let's take another look at that Quinnipiac poll. Scroll all the way down to the bottom, where respondants graded the performance of NYC's recent mayors. Mayor Bloomberg has by far the best A and B ratings:

73% rated Mayor Bloomberg A or B
52% rated Mayor Giuliani A or B
52% rated Mayor Koch A or B
30% rated Mayor Dinkens A or B

But I'm not listing these other mayors because it makes Bloomberg look good. What's impressive is how poorly these other mayors were viewed, in particular Mayor David Dinkens, who, by the way, got a D or F from 31% of respondants, and who, by the way, was the Mayor of New York City when voters took up the issue of term limits in 1993.

As for 1996, that was Mayor Giuliani, who wasn't yet out of his first term, and who got a D or F from 25% of respondants. Only 10% gave Bloomberg either failing grade.

My point? There are certainly arguments to be made for or against term limits, but "the voters have spoken" is not one of them. Like it or not, voting on term limits is by and large nothing more than a reflection of the public's approval of a sitting mayor. The failure of voters to extend term limits needs to be seen through this lens, as nothing less than a repudiation of Mayor Dinkens and as uncertain, at best, of Mayor Giuliani.

Should the public get to vote on term limits again? Of course, and it will. It should (and will) also have the choice to vote for Mayor Bloomberg, by far the most effective and well-regarded mayor in New York's recent history.

Tales from the Beltway

Just finished up working on Beltway Unbuckled: Sex, Power, and, let's say, American History, something like that. The title will probably change, or it won't. Find it on History this coming February, a collection of overlooked and mostly untold stories from the bedrooms of D.C.'s past.

In the meantime, it's been hard not to be consumed by the all-out political war being waged. That's not to say I'm camped out in front of my cable box all day, but my internet attentions are elsewhere: polls, maps, op-eds, op-eds, more op-eds...

It's easy to get distracted.

I have, however, managed to keep up with my muffin inspiration. It's what gets me up in the morning. This week: Zucchini Bread Muffins. I can't believe I never thought of this before! These were made sans nuts or seeds, per allergen requirements of the school at which Mint is (and would like to remain) employed, and while this nut-less insistence goes against my better judgment, I've no vendetta against three-year-old I don't know, so I fell in line. Next up? Probably Pumpkin Muffins. Tis the season and all.

McCain Wins Debate!

As much as I love a simple three-word, exclamatory sentence, I'd like to think this humble page is more modest than John McCain's latest web ad:

Tonight's results, today.

Aside from their obvious troubles with chronology, the McCain camp seems simply not to believe in hypocrisy. This is, after all, a debate which John McCain refused to attend, that is, until the financial crisis was thwarted, and, however, having not thwarted said financial crisis, has declared himself winner of the previously disavowed debate, which, by the way, he will now be attending... five hours from now.

But, naturally, there's a rational explanation for this. My sources tell me, contrary to stories stating otherwise, that John McCain and his adviser Steve Schmidt had a disagreement this morning over whether to order Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks for breakfast. Schmidt favored the former, though McCain insisted on the latter. After several minutes of vigorous back-and-forth on the merits of each option, the two decided on Starbucks, as evinced by this photo taken of John and Cindy McCain headed to Mississippi for the debate:

So, as it turns out, the "McCain Wins Debate!" ad was probably just some intern's idea of a "neat way to celebrate" breakfast. Probably.

Catch-Up

Things that have happened since my last post (in no particular order):

- Made blueberry muffins. Great success. Also tried out a version of my long-planned molasses and ginger muffins. Dubbed them Snap! Ginger Muffins. They were basically gingerbread muffins with bits of candied ginger roaming about. Success was tempered only by the realization that gingerbread muffins with peppermint bark (or Andes mints?!) would be delicious come the holidays. Mint contends that these would be delicious tomorrow. I'm inclined to think she might be right.

- Made a version of a fennel salad we had at Paloma a while back. This involved a chopped fennel and grated radish cole slaw of sorts tossed in lemon juice and olive oil with some pieces of orange. This was placed atop a few spoonfuls of white bean and honey paste. (Note: paste is a disgusting word. Let's use a different one next time, yes?) It was a bit like hummus, but sweet, which helped with the peppery radish.

- Greenpoint Market Deli has a sign that says it will be returning. That would be nice. They always had the ginger beer that Mint likes, and it means that it won't be something I don't want on the corner, like another Duane Reade. I know there's already a Duane Reade across the street now, but you never know. That chain is worse than Starbucks these days. I'm waiting for a Duane Reade to open inside another Duane Reade. It'll happen. Just wait.

Today is National Punctuation Day. Not everyone is aware.

- Spain's La Liga is going again, which is wonderful. What's more wonderful is that Time Warner is suddently carrying GolTV, which carries La Liga matches. Finally, after five years here, I can watch something other than Premiership teams on the weekend. But speaking of La Liga, Barca put a 6-1 hurting on Sporting Gijon last weekend. This week, Real Madrid downed them 7-1. I enjoy the one extra goal, you know, not against Sporting, but as a little shot at Barca. What, couldn't get seven?

- Politics increasingly make my head hurt, but I find my rising blood pressure tempered by increasingly obvious revelations that sanity may well prevail for once. All the backhanded shots are landing wide (for now), and the tiny bursts of red-rage momentum seem to flame out quickly. Even Bill Kristol doesn't make me as violently ill anymore, which isn't really true, but sometimes.

- Bourbon has replaced whiskey as my drink of choice. This concerns you far less than anything else I've mentioned here. Unless, of course, you're out drinking with me in the near future. In which case, we'll see.

Returned: Thoughts on Football & Barack Obama

A RAMBLING POST to catch up on a few bits of the everything I've forsaken since heading off at the beginning of this month to drive aimlessly among Italian towns. The food on the trip was memorable to say the least, so expect a recap in the days to come.

In today's Times, however, I caught this article, which refers to an item I had also seen mentioned a few days ago and further leads me to believe:

Barack Obama will be elected in no small part thanks to America's seasonal obsession with football.

I make this ridiculous claim with meager scraps of supporting evidence to back me up at present but will hopefully put together a better argument and report back. In the meantime, if you'll remember, Sen. Obama (D-IL) first announced his "candidacy" in 2006 on Monday Night Football:



Okay, I understand that's hardy an official campaign kick-off, but it's only funny 'cause it's true, right? And if you want to point to the beginning of the media's so-called infatuation with Mr. Obama, you might as well start here. I mean, how many U.S. Senators are given the lead-in to what is weekly one of America's most highly-rated television programs for a political inside joke?

Fast-forwarding nearly two years, the Obama camp decides to move its nomination acceptance speech to Invesco Field, formerly known as Mile-High Stadium, home of the NFL's Denver Broncos. Before you scoff at the pigskin connection--obviously the attendance capacity is higher at Invesco Field than Pepsi Arena, reason alone to move the venue--let's consider an entirely football-connected item: Skycam.

This fly-over camera, which, by the way, aside from being Emmy award-winning was developed for televising football games, won't be at the GOP convention in St. Paul, and would hardly have had the same effect inside Pepsi Arena as it will soaring over Invesco Field.

Think Kennedy-Nixon: the pragmatic Nixon shrugged off makeup for his debate with the upstart Kennedy in front of those newfangled television cameras and Kennedy shrugged off Nixon. The power of an image is well-established in our political culture. Don't think for a second that spectacular, never-before-seen aerial footage of Saint Obama ministering to tens of thousands won't inspire more than a few doubters.

And blame it partly on football.

Muffinophilia

I'M ABSOLUTELY CLUELESS as to what inspired this present obsession of mine, but about four weeks back I arrived at the realization that muffins were a brilliant idea and I should make many of them. I sought out a basic non-dairy recipe and went to work on my first muffin-making attempt: blueberry. The results were a bit flat. They tasted great, especially topped with a quick roll in some cinnamon and sugar, but they were literally flat-topped, which for a muffin I find to be entirely unacceptable.

Attempt two was banana nut. I added more mix per muffin in the baking tray and yielded larger, more rounded muffins. I'm not a baking expert by any stretch of the imagination, so I'm always pleased to find that basic principles such as "add more batter, get more muffin" hold up at 350-degrees.

The latest round were lemon poppy seed. I guessed the juice of four lemons required extra flour to offset the added liquid. I guessed a bit high on exactly how much. The muffins were the right size, but a little too firm. Live and learn. I'll pass along the recipe when I get it right, and I've got a great idea for a muffin flavor combo to perfect. Stay tuned!

Mike (Almost) Eats Wingnut

Post has been updated below.

IT'S NOT SO much that I narrowly escaped losing my teeth to chomping down on this little guy as is was head-shaking to have found it where I did: buried in an order of Brooklyn Label french fries. And while it's far from the most unsanitary thing I could have found hiding my food, it's also, you know, a freaking wingnut in my french fries.

I've made four or five visits to Brooklyn Label (180 Franklin St, Greenpoint, Bklyn; 718-389-2806) over the past two moths, each to some degree of disappointment. There was the unlabeled, uneatable hot sauce. The tempeh ruben just isn't what it used to be. No more onion rings or mac n' cheese. The menu is half its previous size and scope. BL's brunch seems to still draw a sizable crowd, but I can't bring myself to pay for another halfhearted meal just to find out if its worth the trip.

The elusive Wingnuti brooklynlabelus in its natural habitat.

The wignut fiasco has closed the door for me. I'm not refusing to eat there ever again, but I've no reason to seek it out. There are just too many other options around, ones that make the same stuff just as well, and certainly ones with kitchens that take the time to keep hardware out of the fries.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Probably not.

Note: Attempting to check the address for this post I stopped by BL's website. Yeah, when I talked about a 'halfhearted' effort, that's exactly what I was talking about. It's the little things, people.

Update, 7/23: BL has offered it apologies for the incident and weighed in on the website malfunction over on the comments page. I've also been informed that BL's new menu has been released, so despite my ambivalence, perhaps you should, in the words of the sage LaVar Burton, "don't take my word for it" and check out the new goods anyway.

Best Quote Ever - 07.10.08

Jason Giambi's batting average dropped to futile depths in mid-May, when Giambi grew a mustache to "break the monotony" of his slow season. Since sprouting the whiskers, Giambi's batting average has bounced back and was recently the inspiration for All Star Game fan voting.

Aaron Perlut of the American Mustache Institute:

“Baseball has a thick, rich, luxurious history with the mustache... And we’ve tried to be as visible and supportive as we can of Giambi. Not only do we think he’s a great baseball player, but he’s also a great ambassador of the labia sebucula — which is Latin for lip sweater.”

Dinner And A Movie: Hellboy II & Habitat

CAUGHT A SCREENING of Hellboy II last night with Sir Hitchcock and Mr. Golden. Considering that Pan's Labyrinth is likely the standard-bearer for Guillermo del Toro's work of late, a couple things stood out: First, the go-bump-in-the-night imagination on this guy is something special. The death of a plant God and, later, an incarnate of Death itself are breathtaking. You gotta think del Toro has a leg up on Burton these days, at least as far as creepy-crawly ghouls go.

Second, speaking of stories, Pan's Labyrinth was an exceptionally carefully wrought fairy tale. Del Toro makes good use of his dramatic flair in Hellboy, too, but he's not nearly as meticulous about it and I suspect it's because the characters and plot lines aren't wholly his own. The best ones in Hellboy are the ones he brings to life himself. The mechanization of the golden army is good, but the everyday, otherworldly interactions in the troll market are great. Kinda makes you wonder what's gonna he's gonna do with the Hobbit.

And after the movie I finally paid a visit to Habitat (988 Manhattan Ave; Greenpoint, Bklyn; (718) 383-5612).

Kevin has been raving about this place for weeks, as have several other Greenpointers I've bumped into. The decor is something like a backyard patio tucked away inside what appears to be minimalist concrete facade, but given the suburban overtones of the interior, maybe it's just the basement foundation. It's all very inside-out (and with Planet Earth DVDs constantly playing above the bar).

There's food to be had (though, does one really want to eat while watching Planet Earth?). Pairs of sliders, baskets of waffle fries, mac n' cheese, ham and swiss, etc. I had the black bean and cheese empanadas, a term usable for any fried, pastry-encased food classier than a Hot Pocket. I'm not saying they were bad, they were actually quite good, reasonably priced at $6 for a pair served with mixed greens. The beer list was interesting if not ambitious, $5-7 a pint.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Perhaps. The wood slabs served up as coasters are neat.

Mike Eats What?

After a long absence, I've decided it might be time to revisit this poor little un-updated site. The mission won't be refocused as much as it will be less focused, less attention paid to my every meal and more attention turned on my immediate surroundings: Greenpoint.

Lots of factors have played into this decision, not the least of which is the simple fact that I now have an occasional spare moment. Sure, I've missed writing and blah blah, but I've also found myself as of late, as I told Mint last night, "uninspired" making meals, to which Mint responded with a rather defeated, "awww." So, let's just call that moment my tipping point. Fitting, really, as she was the tipping point the first time, too.

But there was also a moment last weekend which drew this decision quite a bit nearer. You'll hear about it soon enough. It involves the subject of my last post (some four months ago), a box of fries and a rogue wingnut. You don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out the plot, but it definitely deserves its own post.

So, stay tuned! Mike Eats Food is back, but this time it's Greenpoint.