Punkcrastinating

I should be finishing my paper on the effects of NAFTA on Mexican remittances, but I simply haven’t found the will to do so yet. So I tuned in for the umpteenth time to SLC Punk!, James Merendino’s always entertaining little quasi-(auto)biographical account of being a punk in Zion in the mid-80s. While I never really looked the part, I always respected the energy and the anarchic ethos of the punks. The movie is both joyous and sad, as our protagonist Stevo realizes that punk is an attitude moreso than a style, a way of thinking rather than a way of dressing. He tunes out, drops in, and goes off to Harvard Law to become part of the system against which he rails so passionately and eloquently early in the film. Throw in a killer soundtrack comprising some of the great punk and rock artists of the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and you have 97 minutes of thoughtful yet escapist fun. One final warning…this film is known to kindle existential crises. That’s right.  Even the Unqualified One sits there in the waning moments of the film and thinks, “Is this all there is?”.

The culinary world is abuzz with the fifth basic taste and the realization that there are way to capture this savory sensation sans MSG. Given the ridiculous name umami, Japanese for deliciousness (or so the Japanese would have us think), chefs are creating new and interesting way to experience this very slippery concept.

So the 21st robber barons, the i-bankers and hedge fund managers, have derailed the overhaul of the tax code that would tax hedge fund managers at tax table rates rather than the capital gains rate. And our Strategerist in Chief has vetoed the SCHIP bill. Again.