A Horse of a Different Color

On The Office last night, the eternally pathetic character, Toby, indicated by phone to his daughter that she might be getting a Princess Unicorn doll for Christmas to audible shrieks of delight through the receiver. Princess Unicorn was presented as the must-have toy in Scranton and is Barbie-esque in every respect—packaging, plastic hair, pink ball gown, etc.—except that she has a unicorn horn protruding from her forehead. Hysterical. Thank you, NBC.

It so happens that the conniving dweeb, Dwight, had been stockpiling the dolls for months, buying out the inventory of the entire city and selling them at a big margin. When Toby got off the phone with his daughter, the brilliant stockroom worker, Darryl, was handing Dwight cash for a pink box, which turned out to be the very last of Dwight’s hoard. Toby was mortified, wanting desperately to please his daughter and even more to piss off his ex-wife with this coveted toy, and begged Darryl to sell it to him. When Darryl coolly acquiesced to re-sell the doll to Toby on a payment plan for twice what he had just paid Dwight, Toby hugged Darryl and thanked him profusely, visibly relieved. Well, relieved until he took the box and realized that it was the “African-American” version of the doll, complete with mocha skin, ebony “textured” hair, and chocolate-colored unicorn horn. Toby obviously was expecting the blonde, white-horned version of the doll, and when Darryl sardonically asked him, “What, is something wrong?” Toby swallowed hard and answered that he liked this version even better.

This is funny on so many levels. First, it's funny for the obviousness that Darryl likely would not be buying the white-person version for his child, that he had swindled Toby so skillfully, and that there was absolutely no way that Toby could get out of the scam with any grace or without a fight. Second, because the viewer to this point only had been shown the white-person version of the doll, I had the traditional Barbie in mind—not to mention that I don’t think the notion of a black unicorn ever had crossed my mind—and was as surprised as Toby to see the black-girl version. Finally, Toby’s response that he liked this version even better is so funny not only because he did not want to get a good thumping by Darryl, but also because it is great social commentary as a sign of the times, as though it is almost de rigeur to be pro-black right now.

This Office interaction hits on what appears to be a cultural extension of The Obama Effect that had pollsters so worried in the recent election. But instead of simply an outsized enthusiasm for the candidate, it appears that the President-Elect’s victory is generating a new enthusiasm for his race. Has anyone noticed that there seem to be more black people in television ads (no, I do not have DVR, folks, so I do still watch commercials)? I don’t know if my own enthusiasm lately has just highlighted how many black people are in ads, but the Princess Unicorn storyline’s dénouement makes me think that it’s not just me.

Looking back on the campaign and election, it really is sort of surprising that the Obamas’ race did not play a larger role. Whether it wasn’t addressed more directly because of senses of taboo likely never will be known for sure, but what did become evident is that the American majority is cool with a black president. So I am sure that there is a new page in the advertising playbook that says the black community no longer is a niche market exclusively, and that Americans in general identify black people as part of the whole, quotidian public.

I think that it will be interesting to see how this slight shift in the perceptions of those who cultivate perception might impact our culture. And thinking about just one sphere—consumer retail—would a shift of this nature begin to draw traditionally “black products” out of niche markets, as well? For instance, I am told there are some products, which are used commonly by African Americans but remain generally unknown to the broader marketplace, that work like magic for razor burn. Or might evolving notions of consumers change market shares dramatically; will Sean Jean gain in popularity while the FUBU brand becomes irrelevant?

In any case, I think that it is worth commenting that even though Toby’s surprise and disappointment in seeing the black Princess Unicorn were funny, in this day and age, his white daughter may not be as dismayed as one initially might expect to get a Princess Unicorn of a different shade.

Unh-Unh. Not O.K.

So I started taking Chantix exactly four weeks ago today to kick the smoking habit, and that means that I have been smoke-free for three weeks.

Chantix is nothing if not well packaged, foregoing the ugly brown pill vial for a very sleek set of cardboard contraptions that organizes your dosages by week, day, and meal. I thought that the idea was borne of great wisdom, Pfizer recognizing that quitting smoking shakes up a routine and, therefore, sought to replace it with an easy and temporary regime of pill popping. Now that is something worth paying for, and when I went to fill the first month’s “starter kit,” I paid the hefty price for the meds, thinking, Well, I probably spend about that per month on cigarettes anyway, so it’s a wash.

I even got over the fact that my UnitedHealthcare plan doesn’t cover the medication, which is no easy accomplishment for a Jew working in the arts. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely complained plenty about UHC, for under my plan, Viagra costs $10 per month, but they don’t cover smoking-cessation products. It makes no sense for very obvious reasons, the most ironic of which is that smoking can cause impotence, but I will leave it at that and say that I found an inner peace in paying for the long-term benefits that Chantix would help me to attain.



So I regularly swilled down the pellets in the most elegant and satisfying ways I could—be they with a good cabernet at Peter Luger’s, or with orange juice after a poached egg on toast, or with a tequila shot at a friend’s dinner party—all the while collecting the “Good for you!” comments that have sustained me from supporting friends. I am pretty pleased with myself, I must admit, and patting myself on the back all the way to the pharmacy this morning, I braced myself for another hit to the bank account as I got my first refill of the medication.

Well, I learned this morning that Pfizer is at once wise, crafty, and opportunistic, as I swallowed my pride, did some quick computing in my head, made several Duane Reade staffers triple-check the price, and felt my face turning red. In her sweet sub-continental accent, the pharmacist told me, “Sure, the starter month is expensive, but the regular kit costs this,” indicating the label staring me down from the countertop. This=DOUBLE THE FIRST MONTH.

So what argument am I supposed to come up with now? Shucks, no big deal. I didn’t want to have dinner at per se this month anyway?

What is really disturbing is that Pfizer is profiting from my addiction, weaning me from cigarettes and increasing my dependence on their drug, just to boost the price after one month. Isn’t that sort of like what the tobacco companies did: created or increased addiction to turn a greater profit? Talk about something that could drive one to smoke again!

“Does this come with some company stock?” I asked the pharmacist, as I swiped my credit card.

Living the Dream

The Today show has broadcasted loads of segments on “Recession-proofing Your [insert concern here].” I always watched, toothbrush in mouth, thinking to myself, I have no debt, I rent my apartment, I have a stable job, I’m not retiring any time soon, and for reasons x, y, and z, I basically AM recession-proof.

Not true.

A little more than a week ago, I started this blog and distilled my life into phrases like “balancing life in Harlem, love in Los Angeles…,” and “renovation project and long-distance relationship.” These were the things in my life that most dominated my time (except for work. Work shmerk.) and, therefore, sort of defined my life.

Even I have trouble imagining, therefore, what my life is to become now. I had plans to move to Los Angeles (on my own terms and in my own time), update my relationship status to be rid of that ugly “long-distance” crap, buy a Mini Cooper, oversee an extensive remodel to a sweet house we purchased, and spend my days hopping around art galleries, walking Labradors, and visiting green markets, my grandmother, and the vineyards and golf courses of Santa Barbara County.

Sounds nice, right? Brunch in Malibu, anyone?

So I told all my friends that I was moving—again, eventually—and started making new friends of Los Angelinos, while earning Platinum status on American Airlines. Upgrade! Cha-ching!

And after, quite seriously, more than two years’ estrangement, hundreds of thousands of frequent-flyer miles, a year pouring over PDF’s with a batty architect on the line, a GAGILLION dollars invested in all of the above, and the development of some pretty big-time dreams, I discover that I am not so recession-proof.

I boarded with business class onto a 767 the week I watched Lehman Brothers go down in flames with utter fascination and a lot of sympathy (bordering on pity, I imagine). How tragic, I thought.

My parents bought the vineyard next to theirs around the same time a friend’s parents lost their home. “I am sooooo sorry, honey,” I had poo-poo’ed to her, as I showed her the latest round of architectural plans for my Santa Monica mini-manse. “Do you like the columns?”

Well, now I get it. It’s the economy, stupid. My life is on hold, and on this fabulous fall Friday in the Big Apple, I have two things to show for the past two years for which I am endlessly grateful right now:

1) A new understanding of my friendships in New York. Preparing to say good-bye to the people who have loved me and whom I have loved for the last 5 years has been a real hardship. However, I truly have reckoned with those friendships and value them all the more for it; and

2) A renewed understanding of the bond in my relationship, making it all the more unshakable, even after two years of separation.

So, as I finish this post, I am thankful for the opportunity I have had to dream, and even though the Economy giveth and the Economy taketh away, at least I know how big I can dream. And thanks to my recession-proneness, I get to dream again now and to decide which dream I really want to chase.