Betsy Morais
Hello there! My name is Betsy and I'm on the editorial staff of The New Yorker.
I like to write, and when I find myself with some spare time, fall into the mindsuck of the internet. So here I am, nice to see you!
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Video reblogged from The Will Leitch Experience
New Woody Allen trailer, you guys! “To Rome With Love.” Look, Woody’s acting again! And there’s Judy Davis! Also, Mark Zuckerberg being mentored by Jack Donaghy. Downside: Oh, man, that’s totally Benigni, isn’t it?
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In the beginning of Woody Allen’s 1973 film, Sleeper, scientists of the future discuss nutritional attitudes of the past:
YOU MEAN THERE WAS NO DEEP FAT?
NO STEAK OR CREAM PIES OR HOT FUDGE?THOSE WERE THOUGHT TO BE UNHEALTHY, PRECISELY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT WE NOW KNOW TO BE TRUE.
The future is now. “The metabolic effects of certain ingredients make chocolate a good slimming food because it is calorie- neutral, says the U.S. study.” Whoopeeeee
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I had an idea for a corporation called Idea Corp. But it’s been done already. That idea corp stole my idea! They have such good ideas at Idea Corp, sigh.
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“Tell me what you think it is.”
…I’m totally hoodwinked; it’s not at all what I expected. It’s super-dry and as grippy as a mountain climber on my palate and yet has a luxurious texture, like wearing cashmere over thermals. It’s briny and spicy and leaves me feeling like I’ve been sucking on a peach-pit, but in a good way. As I’m standing there scratching my head over what the heck this is, Nicolson reveals the mystery: It’s a skin-fermented Sauvignon Blanc, and I’ve never had anything quite like it.
So orange wine is happening. It ferments with the skin on. -
Mr. Savage and his team are traveling the country, digging up people’s lawns in search of historical artifacts.The irony of a former pro-wrestler named Mr. Savage who is now a self-proclaimed archaeologist need not be lost on us.
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Actually, Danny Tamberelli is 30. Little Pete will always remain a kid growing up in northern New Jersey, just like I was during the nineties. There, from the leafy suburban towns to the highway strip malls, reality and television could hardly be distinguished from one another. Especially when they would seamlessly intersect.
Tamberelli is from the town next-door to mine. Off one of its main roads, there’s a shopping center called Boulder Run—which used to be sort of ratty-looking—with a big general store called Ben Franklin that was filled with useless knick-knacks my mom was never willing to buy for me, and a clothing shop called Kids Stuff where I was forced to try on discount winter jackets while it was still warm. Neither of those shops exists anymore, though. The whole place was recently re-modeled. Now there’s a Starbucks and a Phones 4 U.
One of Boulder Run’s enduring stores is Goldberg’s Bagels, where my dad would sometimes take me on Sunday afternoons. On one of those visits, I was in 6th grade. We ordered, we left. And then I realized that Danny Tamberelli had been behind the counter. I was belatedly star struck, but also somewhat unsurprised, as I had thought it inevitable that a character from life’s Nickelodeon rendition would make an in-person appearance—of the kind wholly unexpected from a television personality.
Pete & Pete was a great show because it was about the surreal adventures that kids like me could stumble into on the way home. And that’s what happened when I saw Little Pete. Who is now 30, and living in Brooklyn, just like everybody else I used to know.
