MY BOYFRIEND, THE
METROSECTIONAL
That’s right: Page B11 of
Saturday’s New York Times Metro
Section. Complete with a photo of what the Times calls “Charles
Nolan’s delightful costumes.”
IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD
The costumes were
for a new ballet portraying the life of Marie Antoinette, entitled “Cake” –a
bread substitute it’s not clear Ms. Antoinette ever actually suggested any
peasants eat. But whether she did or not,
some would say the ballet is aptly timed, as the sharply rising price of food
is driving the world’s poor to the brink.
Speaking of
which, did your Fraser Yachts
brochure arrive in the mail? Mine
did. It’s a handsome over-sized full-color
hardcover book showing off the fantastic places you can enjoy splashing about this
summer – the Caribbean, the Maldives, Vanuatu, the Greek Isles and so forth –
with a two-page spread on each of the 90 or
so yachts available for rent.
There’s even a
special section for budget yachts less than 115 feet long, like Miss Money
Penny, at – adorably – 82 feet (isn’t that cute?), with a crew of three and a
weekly charter price under of $55,000.
In a sense, the whole brochure is for “budget” yachts,
because not a single mega-yacht is listed.
Only two of the 90 bust the 200-foot mark, Lady Lola and Force Blue; and
those, just barely. (Each will be in the
Western Mediterranean this summer, yours for
$380,000 a week.)
That’s shrimpish compared with the late Saddam Hussein’s old
269-foot Ocean
Breeze (“storage space for a large cache of
weapons, including heavy machine guns and surface-to-air missiles, and a secret
passage that runs the length of the boat for easy access to a fast patrol boat
and a mini-submarine pod for emergency exits”) . . . let alone some of the really
big ones, at least a dozen of which, like the Christina O ($700,000 a week),
exceed 325 feet (a football field). Paul
Allen’s 416-foot Octopus,
with its crew of 60, includes a 12-passenger submersible that can stay under
water for perhaps two weeks.
But getting back
to the boats in the brochure (I hope I haven’t spoiled them for you; they seem
quite modest now, don’t they?) . . . I don’t
know if there’s sales tax, or what you’re supposed to tip the crew. (And the fuel on these babies is measured not
in “miles per gallon” but gallons per mile,
so figure maybe $100,000 for a full tank.)
What I do know is that you’re not flying to and from yachts like these
on a commercial airline, thank you very much (when was the last time you took
the subway to shop at Cartier?) . . . so if you don’t already own
your own plane, figure maybe $100,000 more.
But (and here’s
where we get back to the ballet) it’s not just the cost of a week off the Costa Brava that’s begun to pinch.
The price of rice
has doubled.
What to do?
I say: tax breaks
for Hummers and make the tax cuts for the wealthy permanent.
“It’s the end of
the world” popped into my head as I was touring a $7 million apartment a friend
had just purchased as a third residence he plans to use about eight weeks a
year. It’s really, really nice – and
will be nicer still once it’s built out (add another million). Only two of the building’s 70 eventual residents
had moved in as we walked through, but the whole place, was fully staffed,
including the gym, whose employees were excited (startled?) to see us stick our
heads in.
My friend figures
the condo charges and taxes will be around $300,000 a year. Not to mention the cost of his housekeeper,
for whom he has bought a separate $500,000 unit. Thank heavens
hedge-fund managers’ bonus pay is taxed at 15% instead of as ordinary
income! How could he make ends meet
otherwise?
My not-so-secret
agenda was to wrest from this friend yet more money for the DNC. I failed, but have an offer to use the space
for a fundraiser in 2009, when it’s ready.
You may wonder, how can you be
friends with this guy? Simple. He’s warm,
funny, brilliant, generous, committed to progressive causes. He makes me laugh and shares his
vulnerabilities. I love him like a
brother.
But I sense
trouble ahead. The gap between rich and
poor grows ever wider. We need a course
correction. And we won’t get a course correction if we opt for a
third Bush term.
Tomorrow: Another Parrot Joke