But something has been nagging me and did not feel quite right.  I had two main culprits in mind: my poverty and the difficulty of dating here.  But, like a physicist in search of a Grand Unified Theory, I thought there might be something more fundamental behind it all.  And now I have my theory: what really bothers me about New York is excessive ambition.  The most visible aspect of it is money, and the unimaginable amounts people spend on apartments, restaurants, and luxuries here is mind-boggling.  But I’ve decided that money is just a symptom, not the source, of what bothers me.

Everyone here is trying to outdo everyone else.  It’s all about who got a bigger bonus.  Who went on the most exotic vacation.  Who has the nicest apartment.  But it’s not just about money, it pervades everything else too.  Who knows the most obscure restaurants.  Who knows the password for that underground bar.  Who’s in on the latest fashion.  Who is recycles more.  Who has more angst.

Ambition and a desire to outdo others leads to excellence, but it also leads to neurosis.  What really bothers me about New York is how far on the neurotic end of ambitious it is.  New York shouldn’t stop pursuing the next great thing, or else it wouldn’t be New York.  But I think it (and people here) could stand to take a second every once in a while to stop and appreciate that, gee wow, we’ve already got it pretty good here.

Unfortunately this scandal is emblematic of the entire go-go decade, as Paul Krugman so eloquently put it. We’ve been living in a fantasy world where unrealistic returns are viewed as normal and no questions are asked about just where all this magic money is coming from.  How exactly does the SEC, not to mention all the other regulatory authorities that Madoff evaded, miss such an incredibly ridiculously enormous fraud?

If Madoff is (almost certainly) convicted of the crimes he committed, what will be his punishment?  Should he go to a white-collar jail and live out the rest of his life in relative comfort?  How exactly does that work anyway?  What exactly is the “harshest” punishment that should be meted out in such situations?  We commonly hold the death penalty to be the harshest punishment available; does it fit in this situation?  Is it commensurate with the crime, or inappropriate because the crime wasn’t violent?

I’m still on the fence about whether the death penalty itself is humane or not.  I have my reservations about whether we as imperfect fallible people have the right to judge whether someone else lives or dies.  But I do believe that, assuming that the death penalty is acceptable, there should be no question that someone like Madoff, if proven guilty, should receive it.  He has caused almost incomprehensible harm to such a vast number of people that we will be picking up the pieces for years if not decades.  Maybe no one has died directly at his hands, but the number of lives that he’s ruined, the number of organizations that are now bankrupt because of his actions, the immeasurable wealth squandered because of his crimes has resulted in far greater harm to this country and to the world than any single act of violent crime could ever cause.  If this judicial system has any pretentions to justice, I hope that it lays down a punishment that’s comparable with the judgments it’s laid down for other crimes, and makes Madoff pay as dearly as anyone possibly can for his crimes against his investors and, more pertinently, for his crimes against humanity.

• Friends!
• Fairway!
• People know how to dress.
• Clear skies.
• Boys work out here.
• All-night subway.

The minuses:

• $7 beer?  What?!?!
• It’s dirty.  And that’s in comparison to Beijing!
• Food.  At least food that doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg.
• Less bike-friendly.
• People are snobs.
• Less exciting architecture.

There are a whole string of camps one after the other about 7 or 8 km south of Pai, so we did a little window shopping along the rode.  Right at the first camp LB started clapping like a little kid and ran up the elephant and started petting and feeding it, so I knew that there was no way that I could get out of this elephant ride.  In the end we decided on a place that was recommended in the Lonely Planet guide (Thom’s Pai Elephant Camp or something like that).

As we approached the camp the manager greeted us with a fabulous “Heeelllooooo!” and as he sashayed over I knew that we could probably sweet-talk him into a family discount.  After a little bargaining we agreed to go for a 2-hour, 1 hour in the mountains and 1 hour in the river.  It seemed bit long to me but I figured it’d be scenic at least.

The mountain part was scenic indeed; we meandered up and down through some small paths in the mountains and got a good view of the Pai countryside.  Our elephant’s name was Ot and overall she was well-behaved.  She’d wander off to the side a couple of times to grab a bushel of grass to eat, but she’d get back on the path after a few shouts from our guide.  Our guide was pretty calm and treated Ot pretty well overall.  The guides use this wooden stick with a metal hook at the end, and so I was always afraid that he’d hit Ot with the hook, but the only time he ever used it was to hook Ot over the ear once when she wasn’t listening.

After our 1 hour in the mountains we headed down to the river.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but as Ot waded into the water I could tell I wasn’t going to get out of this with dry clothes… the guide yelled something and Ot suddently laid down her side, dunking LB and me into the river without any warning.  Then the guide told us to climb back on her back, only to have her dunk us again.  Then we climbed on her head and she threw us off into the water with one small swing of her head… it’s pretty amazing how effortlessly she could toss us around.  It was kind of like being a 3-year-old again and being thrown around by your Dad, and I actually kinda loved it even though I’m not sure I’d do it everyday.

On our way back to the camp it started raining hard, as if we hadn’t gotten soaked enough in the river.  Luckily the camp had hot tubs set up to warm us back up, and we soaked in the experience for a bit before heading back into town.

In the last year or so my Francophilia has taken shape as a love of French music. No I don’t mean Debussy and Ravel, but the latest wave of French house and electro-pop that was spearheaded by groups like Daft Punk and DJs like David Guetta, and has more recently seen acts like Justice and Yelle. There are also a whole bunch of DJ’s who broadcast their weekly sessions via podcasts and it’s a really convenient (and free!) way to check out new music. Some acts I recommend checking out include David Vendetta, Greg Di Mano, Bastien Sera, and David Guetta.

I found out about Yelle after hearing about the Tecktonik dance style in Têtu and checking out the videos online of Tecktonik dancers. The Tepr remix of “A Cause des Garçons” is pretty awesome and shows Tecktonik at it’s most fun, and after previewing some of Yelle’s other tracks on her debut album “Pop Up” I decided to buy the entire thing. Her songs are pretty hilarious, from “Tu es beau” which is about how a boy tries so hard to please her but can’t quite manage to close the deal, or “Mon meilleur ami” about her vibrator, or “Je veux te voir” which (according to Wikipedia) is dissing some French rappers for being misogynistic.

Shortly thereafter I found out that she was touring the USA and performing at the Highline Ballroom in NY so of course I had to check it out. I went along with CEO and GBB, and we had a smashing time. The doors opened a little late so we stood outside in the surprisingly cold May night chugging Amstel Lights. We were pretty buzzed by the time we finally got in and ready to dance! The opening act was Heartsrevolution and the singer came out holding something pink in a martini glass and clearly trashed. The singer, or rather screamer, was so loud that I ended up holding my ears through their entire act and I was cringing inside as to whether I’d come to the wrong show.

But when Yelle finally took the stage the vibe changed completely. She came out sporting her gold coat and her sexy swagger and instantly got the crowd dancing. She was backed up by Tepr on the turntable and GrandMarnier on the drums (so hot!) and they delivered an awesome set, which went through basically the entire Pop Up album, and she nailed every single song. I can’t wait for the next time they swing by the states!

Sometimes your aisles are so crowded that I can barely squeeze through past the exasperated soccer mom looking at her kids and wondering that maybe, just maybe, she could get out of the parking lot before they realize she’s abandoned them in the freezer room, or the white guy trying to impress his Asian girlfriend with his knowledge about light vs dark soy sauce. And sometimes it’s just so damn cold out that the thought of trekking over to 12th Ave through the gauntlet of bums, projects, and police stations almost seems not worth it.

But then I remember that crunchy and sweet Gala apple you gave me two weeks ago. Or that tender asparagus you gave me on Valentine’s day. Or even that heavenly stinky cheese you proffered over the holidays that forced my roommate to declare a DMZ across the middle of the fridge. And I know that I can try to resist as hard as I can, but there’s no way that I could ever tear myself away from you for another supermarket. Whole Foods’ yuppie luxury tree-hugging self-indulgence and Gristede’s overpriced trash heap just can’t compare to you.