Rest of the Best

It makes some sense in athletics. After all, by definition, sports involves one team or individual playing against another with the goal of winning the contest. That means that, at least in that time and place, one entity is empirically better than the other. You can argue whether a one-off encounter is sufficient to crown the "best" in tennis or football or cricket, but if the goal is to have more points on the scoreboard at the end of the event (OK, less in golf, but you get the idea), then there is little doubt when it's over as to which side can hoist their index finger and chant that annoying refrain of "We're Number 1!" 

Not so in most other areas of life. Be it TV, movies or music, the rankings are subjective, with offerings appealing to one person and not another. That's not to say there aren't "winners" in those areas as well. People vote for the "Best Comedy" or "Best Actress" or "Best Performance by an Orchestra or Instrumentalist with Orchestra – Primarily Not Jazz or for Dancing" (yes, that was a real Grammy up until 1964), and the winner gets bragging rights and a lovely statue. But more often than not we acknowledge that there can be a set of things that are all good options. It's usually not a zero-sum game, unless you are a second grader or are in the White House. 

It's an exercise that reaches its zenith at this time of year. Name an area, and there is a list that some arbitrator has created based on a set of metrics important to them. Type "2018 Best" into your preferred browser, you'll get a dropdown menu with the big ones listed first: best films, best songs, best books.  They are the stuff of cocktail chatter, egging you on to debate with dinner companions or drinking buddies as to whether "Black Panther" bests "A Star is Born," if Cardi B is better than Ariana Grande, if "There There" trumps "Circe." (Note that the drinking buddies for that last discussion are likely sipping port, not beer.) 

But there are far more beyond those high profile rankings. Take yardwork. As one review begins "It can be tricky with so many choices out here to pick the best backpack leaf blower." In spite of that challenge, multiple sites have named the Husqvarna 350BT as the "Best of 2018." Testers remarked on its increased power, though noting it was also somewhat loud. Interestingly enough, that was the exact same critique in another listing for Lady Gaga in "A Star is Born." 

The lists roll on. Best upright vacuum? That would be the Kenmore Elite Pet friendly 31150 which is "no slouch at removing embedded dirt from carpet or tackling pet hair, either." Best Juicer? If you're talking the masticating type, it would be the Omega NC900HDC Juicer Extractor. If you prefer centrifugal juicing (no judging: it's a personal choice), it's the Breville JE98XL Juice Fountain Plus. And in Tamil cinema, a number of critics give the nod to "Pyar Prema Kadhal" partly because of lead actress Raiza Wilson who plays "a character who just cannot seem to make up her mind (in a very Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya Jessie-way)." Want to argue that one? 

Of course, if there's a best, there has to be a worst. In the roundup of "Best Foods" from the Minnesota State fair, the winners were grilled peaches, an heirloom tomato and sweet corn BLT, and an UpNorth Puff pastry filled with "snappy porketta sausage, vinegary dill pickles and — why not? — chopped cheese curds." Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum, the oxymoronic Top Ten Worst included a pizza/waffle hybrid and a "Rainbow Cloud Roll" which is cotton candy rolled around three scoops of ice cream and filled with Fruity Pebbles." But even that didn't match up to the winner, a "Zesty PB&J Sausage." 

To truly be a renaissance man or woman you have to broaden your outlook. Sure, you can give kudos to the Apple Watch as the best way to tell time, or Sony headphones as the best way to listen to music. But if you're a dance enthusiast, I'm here to tell you you would be doing yourself a disservice to not look at a pair of Ryka Influence trainers, rated high in the category of "Best Zumba Shoes." Janet, don't say I'm not looking out for you.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford does not have a favorite color. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

The Year in Rhyme

Twas the week before Christmas, and north, east and south
The credit card limits had all but run out
The computer had googled the world around
There wasn't a gidget or gadget that hadn't been found

But while this holiday season hasn't run out of steam
Most were setting their sights on the end of eighteen
A challenging year, one with ups and with downs
And too many twists, things usually not to be found

It started out weird, with the President of course
Breaking norms left and right, always done with brute force
January barely had started, when a low point was hit
He called countries "holes," the kind that rhymes with pit

The palace intrigue continued, Pruitt finally got burned
Manafort and Cohen told the feds what they learned
Rex was booted from State, and soon there was more
Sessions got canned, Kelly's eying the door

If two stories were big with implications for all
It was the Supreme Court fight, elections in the fall.
Wherever you went conversions turned to fights,
There was no chilling out on the left and the right

Now, as much as it seems that DC is the center
Other things as well set the tone and the tenor
Some good and some bad, yes, it's always that way
Eighteen was no different, so much to convey

In every arena of life there was a reckoning on guys
The story's not new, but it reached to new highs
A movement that started so small continued to swell
No pun is intended though it's not hard to sell

Moonves got booted, Harvey got nailed
Batali was cooked, Cosby headed to jail
It's surely not over, there's more on the way
#MeToo's hardly finished, the list grows by the day

Elsewhere too many shootings, no corner safe from the pain
Doesn't matter location, the story's the same
Parkland and Benton and Thousand Oaks too
No shortage of grief, but no answer simple to do

In football, the Eagles, in baseball the Sox
Not white, sorry Chicago, the Red checked that box.
Golden State kicked Lebron, and in dog news to go
The Kennel picked a Bichon, Flynn wins Best in Show

Away from these shores there was news but of course
The Brits headed for Brexit, a messy divorce
No one had the answer, on just one thing they all cared
Meghan and Harry got married, it was a princess affair

As always each year brings some tears and farewells
Of people who lived their lives bold and well
Paul Allen, John McCain, Stan Lee just a few
Philip Roth and Kate Spade are just some known to you

Tom Wolfe, Billy Graham, no longer here
George HW Bush left late in the year
Anthony Bourdain and Jerry Van Dyke
Aretha, Steven Hawking, just some we all liked

So much more has happened, there's not enough space
To review all the happenings in this one small space
Still it's good to look back, it helps us remind
As we turn to look forward and leave this one behind

So let me end this saying to all that look here
Many thanks for reading this space through the year
Merry, Happy, Joyous, and all that that means
Best wishes for the holiday, and a happy '19.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford offers his apologies to Clement Moore.
His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Robo Pizza

If there's anything we can all agree upon that is necessary for the future of civilization, it's pizza. Sure, we need doctors and iPhones, security specialists and Uggs, app developers and Netflix. But you gotta feed the people working in those areas and developing all that stuff. And more often than not that falls to what many believe to be the perfect food, one that cuts across class, cultural and geographic lines, one that nourishes college students, office workers and scientists alike.

That ubiquitousness would also seem to make the folks responsible for churning out this most important food group high on the, well, food chain of necessary professions. I mean, let's be honest: who's more important to the future of the world, to making sure all those visionaries have the energy they need to invent the next whatever, the folks running the Large Hadron Collider, or the folks running Vinnie's? 

But just like almost every occupation, technology is starting to have an impact on the field. In March Little Caesars applied for a patent for a pizza making robot. It includes a sauce spreading station, a cheese spreading station and a pepperoni spreading station. Meanwhile in France, startup Ekim has a showcase in Paris where their three-armed pizzaiolo robot takes about 5 minutes to turn out a pie. That may not sound like an increase in efficiency, but slow and steady wins the race, according to Chief Executive Philippe Goldman: "The robot has three arms, can co-ordinate tasks and make several pizzas at once. So yes, making a pizza takes 4 minutes 30 seconds but we deliver one pizza every 30 seconds, which allows us to deliver 120 pizzas an hour when a pizzaiolo can only make 40 pizzas an hour." 

However, to go beyond just proof of concept you need to look to Silicon Valley. There, just a couple of miles from Google across the Bayshore Freeeway, Zume Pizza has fully automated the process, and is delivering bespoke pies, sometime as quick as 4 minutes from your first ravenous phone call. 

The key for Zume is what CEO Alex garden calls "cobotic," where humans and robots work together, each doing what they do best. For people, it's problem solving, customer service and process improvement. For machines, it's repetitive tasks. So Garden as CEO sets strategy, while Rhoda Lesinski-Wolf as president deals with operations. Meanwhile, doughbot Bruno loads the raw pies into the oven, piebot Vincenzo takes the finished crusts out of the oven, and saucebots Pepi and Giorgio handle the sauce. Mushrooms and onions are handled by Bob and Jose, two humans who drive the trucks. 

And those trucks are the key. Specially built with finishing ovens inside, they are loaded up with partially baked base pies and forward deployed to high pizza consuming areas (like Google, in fact). When you place an order with their app, Zume's system figures out the closest truck and sends the order to that vehicle, for what the company likes to call "bake on the way." The driver adds toppings as necessary, puts the pie in the oven, and heads to your door. And before you can say parmesan, your dinner, late night snack or breakfast is at your house. 

When it works, it's impressive. Reviews on Yelp tout the speed and freshness of the pies. Says one, "It came SUPER prompt and hot and in a cool pizza 'pod.'" Another: "The ordering experience is simple and the timing for delivery was on point. The crust was perfectly baked and crisp." And one more: "The website ordering was flawless. The delivery estimate was perfect to the minute. The pizza itself came hot." It concludes, "I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords." 

Is this the future of pizza, and maybe even other fast foods? If you go Deep Throat and follow the money, you would conclude "yes." In a recent filing the company revealed that it got a cash infusion of $375 million, with another equal amount on the way. All in, that would value the firm at about $2.25 billion. That makes it more valuable than such better known names as Squarespace and Buzzfeed. For the record, those companies play in the world of retail and media. And Zume beats them both. Which drives us back to our original thesis that while bandwidth may be nice, the future will be built on a slice with sausage.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford loves pizza, but so does everyone. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

World's Worst Houseguest

If there is endangered land these days, it is not the beaches of Miami nor the coastline of California. It is the middle ground, a casualty of the extreme polarization of everything. You are either with us or against us, a hero or a goat, a traitor or a patriot. While most people profess to be in the middle, the reality is that more and more we are on one side or another. Black and white is the new gray.

What's perhaps more surprising is how easily and quickly one can flip from one side to the other, intentionally or not. People use to speak of "evolving their positions" and moving to a different point of view after "careful consideration of the issues." But that kind of gradual change is for Darwin aficionados only. Now the political winds shift with hurricane force, rearranging the goal posts and field of play overnight. James Comey and the FBI were hated by the Democrats and lauded by the Republicans for pursuing Hillary Clinton and her emails. But once they decided there was no there there, the dynamic flipped in an instant with Dems coming to the agency's defense and the GOP castigating the same. It's as if you went to sleep with a mountain view, only to wake up and have the seashore at your doorstep.

Then there's Julian Assange. Some call him a whistle blower, others an information terrorist. A crusading journalist, or an immoral muckraker. An independent agent, or a Russian patsy. And in still one more yin and yang, while Sweden has dropped all accusations related to his case, just this week it was revealed that the US has filed sealed charges against him. This last isn't just about what's printed in the papers. It means that setting foot outside the Ecuadorian Embassy in London, where he has been living and has not set foot outside of since 2010, could result in him being seized by the Brits and extradited to this country to stand trial on those charges.

The results of Assange's most recent legal challenge may also force a reappraisal by his supporters, though it's unlikely the other side would rush to his defense. The ruling by Ecuadorian judge Karina Martinez touched on several topics, including those that went beyond the affairs of state. In response to his lawsuit, she rejected his request for an injunction against new foreign ministry protocols which bar him from commenting on topics relating to Ecuador's foreign relations, which the country said made it harder to conduct diplomacy. She also set parameters on his visitation privileges, which he said kept him from seeing his children and conducting his work as a journalist.

However, those two rulings are not the straws that could break a liberal camel's back. No, what may force his defenders to reappraise their support is his personal comportment. It's bad enough that embassy staff complained about Assange riding a skateboard in the halls, of playing soccer on the grounds and of behaving aggressively with security personnel. Those they might be able to forgive, or at least look the other way, as manifestations of the stress from his self-imposed house arrest. But nothing will lose him support faster than the accusations that he makes a mess of the bathroom and worse, doesn't clean up after his cat.

Ecuador is not a particularly wealthy country, but Attorney General Inigo Salvador didn't say that the US$ 6 million it has cost to house Assange was the issue. "If Mr. Assange wants to stay and he follows the rules, he can stay at the embassy as long as he wants." But rules are rules. And in spite of the fact that Assange likes to dress the cat up in neckties and he has given it its own Twitter and Instagram accounts, basic hygiene is more important for both humans and felines than social media presence. Even if that cat is, as its online profile reads, "interested in counter-purrveilance."

In light of all this, Ecuador is probably rethinking the whole asylum thing. When it started, they probably thought what's the worst that could happen? He stays a few weeks, we get some publicity, and on to the next. But every coin has a heads and a tails. They thought they were getting a famous asylum seeker. They got the world's worst house guest.  Can we flip again?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford prefers dogs to cats. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

1200 and Counting

Let me be very clear: I am no George Bernard Shaw. That Nobel Prize and Academy Award winning writer, known best for his plays such as "Man and Superman," "Candida" and "Pygmalion" was a literary giant whose work is still studied closely more than half a century after his death. His discourses, literary wit and prodigious output marked him by many as second only to Shakespeare among English writers. That brilliance is somewhat tempered by his controversial views on a number of topics, raging from his admiration for Mussolini and Stalin, and his opposition to vaccination and organized religion.

None of that is me. About the only place where a Venn diagram of the two us might cross is in an earlier period of his life wherein he was a weekly columnist for The Spectator in London. He wrote music and theatre reviews, eventually giving it up to focus on playwriting. Asked why he stopped, he talked about the stress and commitment that was required. He likened writing a weekly column to standing under a windmill: you no sooner dodged one blade and straightened up, proud of yourself for the accomplishment, than another was angling directly for your head. You and me both, George, you and me both.

This all comes to mind as I note that the column you are now reading clocks in at number 1200. It also is just 3 removed from the start my 24th year in this effort. No, they aren't Shakespeare nor Shaw nor anything even close. But like the works of those giants, I recognize that it's a privilege to put one's thoughts together, and know that others are taking their precious time to digest it. It was the playwright Tom Stoppard who noted that words are innocent, neutral and precise, but "If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little." I'm not so self-assured to think I can move the entire planet, but if something I write gives a gentle prod to a reader or two, I'll allow myself a small smile.

People often ask me how I can pen a new essay every week, and indeed, I often wonder myself if I'm approaching the end of the line. After all, the easy and obvious ones were written long ago. Still, it's gotten so the effort to write each one is more or less like brushing your teeth: nothing will happen if I don't do it, and yet if I don't I feel as if I have forgotten to do something important. Added to that is that fact that the number of things that attract my attention is never ending. The trick is figuring out how to make it of interest to you. If there is an overarching goal to any of this, it is that: to share what interests me with you in a way that makes you want to pass it on.

Like many I've always wanted to be the master of something. In his 2008 book "Outliers" Malcolm Gladwell wrote that "ten thousand hours is the magic number of greatness." By that he meant that, based on his studies of the best of the best in a variety of fields, "you need to have practiced, to have apprenticed, for 10,000 hours before you get good." With 1200 of these efforts under my belt, and an average of a couple of hours each, the math says that I am about halfway to Gladwell's elusive marker. That puts me firmly in the journeyman classification. All it will take is another 1200 columns and another 24 years to become a master of the craft. So I guess now is not the time to quit, being halfway there and all that.

On a shelf in my office I keep a series of notebooks with clippings of each of these efforts. Each time one appears, I scissor it out and slip it into a plastic sleeve. Each book is about an inch across, and holds about 26 double sided pages, which conveniently works out to 52 clippings, a year's worth of output. Today I am headed to the store to buy a new one, marking the 24th black blinder in that series. It's worth noting that when Shaw died, his collected works spanned 36 volumes.

George, I'm coming for you.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford will keep writing if you'll keep reading. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.