In 1985, when Don DeLillo wrote his acclaimed novel White Noise, it was considered an absurdist comedy. When you’re watching Noah Baumbach’s 2022 film adaptation of White Noise, you will have moments of startling deja vu. What was considered over-the-top crazy in 1985 is now just stuff that happens in everyday life.
DeLillo’s “hero,” if you want to call him that, is Jack Gladney (Adam Driver), a prominent professor of “Hitler Studies” at a Midwestern liberal arts college. Both he and his wife Babette (Greta Gerwig) are on their fourth marriages, so their four children live in an extremely mixed family. Luckily, the kids seem to get along well, bonded by their shared love of televised disasters. Plane crashes, floods, fires — the deadlier the better, says this household of typical viewers.
But disasters are only fun to watch at a safe remove. When they’re actually happening to you, it’s a different story. A few miles from the Gladney residence, a drunken trucker accidentally rams his tanker into a train full of chemicals. At first, Jack doesn’t believe the “airborne toxic event” is going to be a problem. Desperate evacuations to grubby refugee camps is something that happens to people in Haiti, not affluent Midwesterners. Even the frantic call from a National Guard truck to “evacuate immediately!” is an annoyance because it comes in the middle of dinner.
Adam Driver, Greta Gerwig, and Don Cheadle deliver performances that hit a little too close for comfort in this absurdist comedy.
For those of us who just lived through the pandemic, the Airborne Toxic Event feels like prophecy. The authorities can’t even agree on what to call it at first, and the name they settle on is comically ambiguous. The ever-changing signs of exposure to the toxic cloud include vague things like “unexplained deja vu” — when Steffie (May Nivola) experiences tingling in her extremities, Heinrich (Sam Nivola) accuses her of experiencing “outdated symptoms.” Even the anticlimactic end of the event seems familiar. One day, everyone is just allowed back to their homes, and not much else is said about the whole affair.
For his 11th film, Baumbach has taken on an extremely high degree of difficulty in adapting a beloved, but prickly, literary masterpiece. He leans heavily on Driver, who delivers with his usual intensity. You might not think “team teaching a college class on the parallels between Hitler and Elvis” sounds like good fodder for a cinematic experience, but Driver and Don Cheadle, who plays Jack’s frenemy professor Murray, make it riveting.
Gerwig and Baumbach are a couple, and judging from Lady Bird and Little Women, she is every bit his equal as a director. (Her $100 million Barbie movie drops next summer.) Babette gets pushed aside, in favor of Jack’s comically exaggerated narcissism. During her big scene, in which she confesses her drug addiction and affair, a stunned Jack can only repeat, “This is not Babette’s purpose.” DeLillo intended Jack to be an affectionate parody of the many “white guys who teach college” protagonists of literary novelists like Raymond Carver and John Irving. But after the Trump era, his unexamined selfishness seems uglier, and less funny.
Even though Jack and Babette’s lives continue to become more surreal and more complex, the film never really matches the energy of the A.T.E. I often quote the Hitchcock adage that mediocre books make the best movies. Works of literary genius that depend on wordsmithery usually get lost in translation. (Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice is the exception that proves the rule.) Baumbach’s White Noise is dense and wordy. He creates some unlikely thrilling moments. I’m not sure what it all means, or if it holds together, but I do know that I’m still thinking about it, and I want to watch it again.
He was a Ponyboy; she was a Ponygirl. Can I make it any more obvious? Well, to be fair, I could probably elaborate. You know Tommy “C. Thomas” Howell, the guy who played Ponyboy in The Outsiders? He’s released a single “Ponygirl” last week. Sadly, Howell says, “There’s no relation to Ponyboy, apart from the fact that Ponyboy wrote it. It’s a lullaby that’s about a young cowboy looking for his love.”
And though you might also recognize Howell from his roles in E.T., Red Dawn, and even Criminal Minds, channelling the story of a cowboy within his music hasn’t been much of a stretch for the actor. “I grew up in a rural community,” he says. “My father was a professional cowboy and I rodeoed my whole life.” Music, however, is a relatively new creative outlet for the artist.
“I picked up a guitar for the very first time [when Covid hit in 2020] with the thought of wanting to write and star in a movie about a cowboy who had success with one album and walked away from the business,” Howell says. “So I started to pluck at the guitar hoping to fake my way through a movie production and I absolutely fell in love with it. I started playing and writing songs, and one thing led to another and all this just turned into a big old mess on accident.”
With three singles under his belt and an album set to release in 2023, Howell is ready to get back on the stage. “I went through kind of a quickening, I’d say, a little speed course over the past year and a half. I feel like I’ve been doing it for 10 years. It’s exciting to reinvent yourself and be open to something new.”
This Thursday, Howell will bring his Cowboy Christmas Show to Memphis, where he will perform his original country music and classic Christmas songs. Plus, he’ll share a tale or two about his life and career in Hollywood. Admission to the show is free, but a toy donation for the Salvation Army is strongly encouraged. “We’re just trying to put smiles on faces and hearts, including our own,” he says.
Cowboy Christmas Show, Lafayette’s Music Room, Thursday, December 15, 7 p.m., free with a toy donation.
From posing with an Apache helicopter in Afghanistan to holding his own cheese dip (Photo: Courtesy Andrew Arbogast)
Editor’s Note: This story includes frank discussion of trauma and PTSD.
Andrew Arbogast has a continuing nightmare in which he crashes his helicopter while on military duty in Afghanistan.
“It’s usually at takeoff or landing,” he says. “The blade stops spinning and I go upside down and crash the helicopter. That never happened. Right? But it’s a recurring nightmare that, in a way, kind of reminds me that life is not guaranteed.”
A former Army Apache helicopter pilot, Arbogast, 39, was deployed to Afghanistan in 2014. “There were some very traumatic moments in combat. I have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. And I have to live with demons that, unfortunately, will never go away.”
Photo: Michael Donahue
Arbogast is owner of Arbogast Foods LLC, which includes Arbo’s Cheese Dip. Since hitting High Point Grocery May 15, 2021, the dip, which comes in original, spicy, and queso blanco, is in about 300 stores. “We’re rocking and rolling with Kroger. They’ve been ordering and selling out nonstop.”
He plans to add more products. “I don’t know if it’s because of the Army or the military or if I’m cut from a different cloth, but I’m so disappointed if I don’t have something to look forward to.”
But while Arbogast has successfully created a line of dips that are growing in popularity, an unsettling memory from his Army days continues to haunt him.
Taking Off
A native Memphian, Arbogast grew up with his dad’s spicy cheese dip, a family gathering essential.
He loved to cook and thought about going to culinary school but ended up switching his major from food service to psychology after getting an ROTC scholarship to finish his education at Northwest Missouri State University.
He then spent 10 years in the Army, which included a stint in Iraq. Instead of asking his mom to send him fresh socks, Arbogast asked her to send a George Foreman grill.
Arbogast was then deployed to Afghanistan, where he was air mission commander. Still all about food, he remembers sitting down with his soldiers and “breaking bread” with them, slicing a foot-and-a-half summer sausage and smoked Gouda cheese, while planning their mission to Afghanistan. “Food is morale,” he says.
When he got out of the service, Arbogast went to work as a category manager at International Paper. But in November 2020, he decided he wanted to do something with his dad’s cheese dip recipe.
He got thumbs-up during cheese taste-testings with friends. The dip is smooth, has character and body, but chips won’t break during dipping, Arbogast says.
A year after the business began, Arbo’s dip was in local grocery stores as well as non-grocery stores. In August 2022, the dip became available in major Texas cities. They’re sold at H-E-B Grocery Company’s Central Market stores. On October 22nd, 100 Kroger stores in Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, Arkansas, and Mississippi began carrying his dips.
Everything happened fast.
Arbogast and his wife Erin selling cheese dip (Photo: Courtesy Andrew Arbogast)
Arbogast’s cheese dip business sounds like a sweet dream. But, he says, “With as many good things that have happened, double have been failures through all of this. Which is what people don’t really see. They see success, but they don’t understand or are not privy to how much of a struggle this has been to grow this quickly and reach Texas, for example, or Kentucky. It didn’t come overnight.
“Going into this I was just so naive with, ‘Oh, all you have to do is make cheese dip and people will buy it.’”
Not so, he says. “I’m tired. I’m constantly stressed. But there is a key component that I’ve acquired from my time in service, time in combat. When things are at their worst, you have to remain resilient and positive in order to get through the day, the week, the month.”
His days include trying to meet the demands of Kroger and other retailers while striving to come up with new product ideas. “I’m still at that point where I’m managing everything as a single person. I’m managing the orders, the purchases of raw materials, bookkeeping, operation, and, most importantly, the sales. That’s one of the biggest struggles.”
Like the time an order of $25,000 worth of cheese had to be disposed of because it wasn’t put in a cooler. “I never have a day that goes as planned.
“At this point, I’m still running with it, but I need to hire someone, even if it’s an administrative assistant, to help me with some of the ordering or some of the logistics. Or a bookkeeper. It’s very hard to keep up with all of it effectively.”
Since Pancho’s Cheese Dip was bought by Minnesota-based food distributor Sabrosura Foods in 2021 and is no longer made in Memphis, Arbogast also has had to contend with competition from other local cheese dip makers.
“I’m kind of hanging on by a thread. Or, what I would refer to in the Army, when you’re task-saturated: ‘You’re hanging on to the stabilator.’ It’s the most rear part of the aircraft. You’re hanging on to the tail of the aircraft, basically.
“It’s hard not to treat every issue as an urgent priority. I’m still learning. And it feels like I have a long way to go. I’d love to sit down and just relax and take a deep breath. I haven’t figured out a way to do that. But I want to do it all, and I want to do it now.”
But, he says, “I’m afraid of losing control. I’m afraid at the end of the day.”
Then there are the nightmares. “It’s stuff unrelated to cheese dip,” he says, adding, “I don’t know if some of this stems from PTSD from the military or are just those things that continue to resurface.”
(above, below) Arbogast on duty in Afghanistan (Photo: Courtesy Andrew Arbogast)
Not Just a Dream
The helicopter nightmare harkens back to a real incident that involved Arbogast on March 6, 2014. “I was responsible and at the trigger of what we call a blue on green attack. What that means is ‘blue’ being the United States, the Army, our military, against the ‘green,’ allied forces or Afghan forces. Where we have mistaken them for the enemy.
“I took the lives of our allies. I think about it every day. And I still don’t know if I will be forgiven on judgment day.”
Recounting that incident, Arbogast says, “We were cleared to do what we were supposed to do in order to prevent loss of American lives. The guys were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and weren’t wearing uniforms. We had cleared it through our headquarters that these were supposed to be enemy bases where they were and where they were positioned. What we perceived as the enemy position was on a small ridge line. At the top of the ridge line was a heavy machine gun, a DShK, which is a threat to our aircraft.”
Arbogast later found out the “enemy” they were looking at was actually “an Afghan army.” But, he says, “They were out of uniform and their location was not plotted on a map that was current.
“Because of that we were cleared to engage because we saw that as an immediate threat. Once we had expended every bit of ammunition from our Apaches, we went back to re-arm.”
Then, he says, “There was a call over the radio that an Afghan army was being attacked at that location.”
This took place at night. “They didn’t know what was going on when they were being destroyed.”
Arbogast hasn’t forgotten the slightest details. “I remember everything vividly from that night. What I had for dinner: It was cold pork chops, carrots, and peas. We went out to just do our jobs.
“I don’t know how the other guys feel. It’s not something we talk about. Morally, I think it’s easier for some of them to believe that they were truly Taliban.”
A technical investigation took place, and Arbogast and the other soldiers were cleared. But in the report, one of the Afghan soldiers said they radioed into their headquarters and said, “We are being attacked. But we are not in fear. The Apaches are here to save us.”
Those words still haunt Arbogast. “Half a dozen were killed or maimed when they were trying to fight for their country. And I have to live with that.
“You push it down and you go on about your day. What do you do? Until it bubbles to the surface. No matter how many pills you take, how many hours of therapy or group sessions, it’s something that will continue to haunt you.
“What would have been the alternative? If our helicopter were shot down? As hard as it is to live like this, that would be even worse to imagine.
“War is hell. People don’t come back the same. And what you do with yourself will define you.”
Erin and Andrew Arbogast (Photo: Courtesy Andrew Arbogast)
A Positive Turn
Arbogast didn’t tell the story to his wife, Erin, for four years. “I didn’t see the good in discussing it. It’s just something you suppress. I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I just have to have a way to overcome it. So, talking about it or even just doing something that makes me happy will continue to bring progress. So, cheese dip it is.
“I turned all that moral injury, anger, and aggression toward something positive. The cheese dip. It’s almost one of those things that if I didn’t experience anything like that, would I have the courage to start this business?”
At one point, Arbogast thought he might retire and “live a boring life.”
But, he says, “You have nothing else to live for if you’re not continuing to hustle.
“This is the biggest thing I have ever done in my life. Even my time in the service, 10 years. This feels bigger than that. This is something where I put the onus on me to be successful for my family, and for my community. I don’t want to let myself down. And I don’t want to let others down. Because what I have is a good thing. And it would be a terrible waste to let this go at this stage.”
Arbo’s dips are a popular item at Grind City Brewing Co., says event director Ian Betti: “We sell a ton of it. It’s one of those snack-y, communal types of meals that work out really well.”
And, Betti says, Arbo’s dips are also a great way to support Arbogast. “He’s a casual, down-to-earth, genuine person. But also knowing he is a former Army aviator is super important to us, too, because we love supporting vets.
“We work with Folds of Honor, the organization that supports and raises funds to hand out to the family and children of fallen and wounded soldiers. He’s part of that.”
Arbogast is a newly appointed Folds of Honor board member. A portion of Arbo’s Cheese Dip sales proceeds go to the organization. “I can continue to serve outside of the uniform,” Arbogast says. “The mission has a direct impact on the families of service members that made the ultimate sacrifice. It’s better for me to devote my life to making sure the families of those that didn’t make it back are not forgotten.”
Arbogast wants to add more dips, salsa, and maybe Arbo’s seasoned pretzels to his business.
“One day I do have a dream of selling this brand. It’s not just the money I’ll earn, but it’s going to allow me to do something else with this short speck of time that we have. I feel like this is just one chapter and I have more chapters and I will continue to build.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get content in this life. When I do, it’s time to hang up the helmet and gloves. That’s what one of my flight instructors would tell me. The minute you think you’ve got it all figured out and you don’t need to learn and develop, it’s time to hang up the helmet and gloves. Because you’re done.”
Don’t lose my number. (Photo: Stokkete | Dreamstime.com)
Rikki, don’t lose that number You don’t wanna call nobody else Send it off in a letter to yourself …
I still remember it: 581-3457. No, that wasn’t Rikki’s number. That was my family’s phone number when I was growing up. In those days, I could tell you the phone numbers of all my close friends, plus those of my grandparents, plus the local pizza joint. I never thought about having to look them up. Everyone had tons of numbers memorized. It was essential. It’s not like you could carry a phone book around with you.
Now? Well, I know my wife’s phone number, mainly because I have to use it in filling out various forms. And I know Jenny’s, of course (867-5309). But I couldn’t begin to tell you my children’s numbers. They’ve all moved around and their area codes are weird now and, well, I don’t have to know their numbers because I can just tell my phone to “call Mary.” This is a good thing. I’ve got four kids and stepkids, meaning I’d have to memorize 40 rando digits with my dwindling brain cells, and who needs that?
Speaking of my brain cells, indulge me please as I ponder for a moment the ancient days of landlines — only we didn’t call them landlines. We called them “telephones.” They were big, clunky plastic things that were plugged into walls or placed in little booths around town. Most families had a single phone shared by everybody, usually in the living room. Later, people began to get “extensions,” so you could get some modicum of privacy, unless your pesky brother in the other room stealthily picked up and listened. College dorms had a single phone in the hallway, shared by every resident living on that floor. You want to sweet talk your girlfriend? Good luck.
Times were tough, I tell ya. If you’re over 40, you can probably relate to much of this. The greatest evolutionary steps of the telephone have happened within our lifetimes.
Remember when voicemail was introduced? What a revelation that was. Everyone left those stupid explicit instructions. “You have reached 901-111-5554, the residence of George and Brenda Caldwell-Williams. We can’t answer the phone right now, but if you’ll leave your name and phone number after the beep, we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a great day!”
You had to listen to that bilge all the way through every time you called before you could leave a message. Kill me. And lots of people did cute or “funny” answering machine messages, like reading the script together or making little jokes. Kill me again. Faster.
And caller ID? What a game changer! I remember with great pleasure the day we got that device on our home phone. That very night our teenage daughter called and said, “Hey, Mom, I’m at Kathryn’s and I think I’m just gonna spend the night out here, okay?” My wife responded: “Huh, that’s interesting. Our new caller ID says you’re at Brad’s house. You get your butt home right now, young lady!” It was so delicious. Good, good times.
Now caller ID, voicemail, cameras, maps, phone books, and the entire collected knowledge of the human race are built into the noisy little computers we carry with us everywhere. Today that Steely Dan song I cited above would be called, “Rikki, Yo Here’s My Digits.” You’d just airdrop her your number and start sending inappropriate texts.
And it’s not just songs that have had to be reinvented. All of modern fiction and screenwriting have changed to accommodate the new reality of constant interconnectedness. Plots involving letter writing? Nah. Heroine driving a car and can’t be reached? Nah. Hero needs to go to the library to look something up and then meets girl of his dreams? Nah.
These sorts of changes aren’t unprecedented, of course. Art and literature have always evolved to accommodate the modifications imposed by humanity’s inventiveness. The World According to Garp and Casablanca beautifully exemplify the era of their creation, and their truths stand the test of time. Bogart standing on a rainy Moroccan tarmac growling, “Here’s looking at you, kid,” over a cell phone just wouldn’t have the same magic.
Two dogs walking. One of them says to the other: “I bark and I bark, but I never feel like I effect real change.”
This is the caption of a New Yorker cartoon by Christopher Weyant from several years ago. It keeps popping up in my head — I mean, every day. Like everyone else, I want what I do to matter, to “effect real change.” What I do is write. Specifically, I swim in the infinity of possibility. Humanity can kill itself or it can learn to survive. Most people (I believe) prefer the latter, which is all about discovering how we are connected to one another and to the rest of the universe. This is what I try to write about.
Then Congress passes another military budget. And once again, there’s the New Yorker cartoon.
“An emerging compromise on annual defense policy legislation will endorse a $45 billion increase to President Joe Biden’s defense spending plans,” Politico reports. “… The deal would set the budget topline of the fiscal 2023 National Defense Authorization Act at $847 billion for national defense.”
You know, more than the world’s next nine defense budgets combined. We have more than 750 military bases around the world. We’re sending billions of dollars’ worth of weapons to Ukraine to keep the war going, in the wake of our two decades of war in the Middle East to rid the world of terrorism … excuse me, evil. As a result, the planet is bleeding to death. Not to worry, though. We still have nukes. How safe and secure can we get?
And here’s Northrop Grumman, presenting to the world the B-21 Raider, an updated nuclear bomber, aka the future of Armageddon. No need to worry. When Armageddon is ready to happen, it will happen smoothly, at the bargain cost of $750 million per aircraft.
Northrop Grumman itself puts it this way: “When it comes to delivering America’s resolve, the B-21 Raider will be standing by, silent and ready. We are providing America’s war-fighters with an advanced aircraft offering a combination of range, payload, and survivability. The B-21 Raider will be capable of penetrating the toughest defenses to deliver precision strikes anywhere in the world. The B-21 is the future of deterrence.”
We’re dancing on the edge of hell.
Is it possible for humanity to evolve beyond this? Prior to Armageddon? Advocating that humanity’s collective consciousness must transcend militarism, and an us-vs.-them attitude toward the planet means lying on a bed of nails. Consider the weird and mysterious act of violence that took place recently in Moore County, North Carolina, which may — or may not — have been triggered by a drag show. Somebody opened gunfire at two electric substations in the central North Carolina county over the weekend, causing multi-million-dollar damage to the power grid and leaving some 40,000 households without power for half a week. While the perpetrator and motive remain a mystery to law enforcement officials, one person wrote on Facebook: “The power is out in Moore County and I know why.” She then posted a photo of the Sunrise Theater, in downtown Southern Pines, along with the words “God will not be mocked.” The theater had a drag show scheduled that night, which, prior to the power grid attack, had been vehemently opposed by many right-wingers.
The Facebook claim that the power outage was meant to stop the drag show may have been totally bogus (and also a failure, by the way, with spectators lighting the show with their cell phones so it could go on). Maybe we’ll never know for sure. But even if the poster, furious about the scheduled show, had simply co-opted a motive for the criminal act, essentially ascribing it to God, it’s still indicative that there’s a lot of poison in the air. If you hate something, don’t try to understand it. Go to war. There was, after all, a mass shooting at an LGBTQ nightclub in Colorado Springs several weeks ago — indeed, mass shootings directed at multiple targets are, good God, commonplace.
I fear that war remains the logical terminus of collective human consciousness. Indeed, war is sacred, or so surmises Kelly Denton-Borhaug, citing as an example a speech delivered by George W. Bush on Easter weekend in 2008. She noted that W. “milked” the Easter story to glorify the hell the country was in the process of wreaking in Iraq and Afghanistan, throwing a bit of Gospel into his war on evil: “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
She writes: “The abusive exploitation of religion to bless violence covered the reality of war’s hideous destructiveness with a sacred sheen.”
But perhaps even worse than war’s pseudo-sacredness is its normalcy, à la that never-questioned trillion-dollar budget that Congress tosses at the Pentagon every year without fail. And the total pushes up, up, up every year, bequeathing us, for instance, that Northrop Grumman B-21 Raider, ready to deliver Armageddon on command.
Short of Armageddon, we simply have armed hate-spewers, ready and ever so willing to kill an enemy at the grocery store or a school classroom or a nightclub.
Understand, love, heal … these are not simple words. Will we ever learn what they mean? Will we ever give them a budget?
Robert Koehler, syndicated by PeaceVoice, is a Chicago award-winning journalist and editor. He is the author of Courage Grows Strong at the Wound.
Andromeda, the main control room in Outerspace (Photo: IMAKEMADBEATS)
I had heard talk of a new project from the Unapologetic collective, so I called IMAKEMADBEATS out of the blue. No texting. We’re both aware that this is a dying art. “I’m actually pro-‘just calling,’” he says. “I want to take it back to years ago, when you just called people.” Still, it’s not every day you can ask someone you phone where they are and hear them say, “I’m in outer space right now.”
Of course, by “outer space,” MAD (as he’s called) really meant Outerspace, the new recording studio recently opened by Unapologetic. If that alone doesn’t sound too noteworthy, just take a look inside, as a few of us were able to back in August. The first public event at the facility on Central Avenue was a listening event for the new album by Aaron James, Nobody Really Makes Love Anymore. Back then, many rooms were still under construction, but the main control room and live tracking room were finished. To all of us gathered there, MAD said, “I wanted a space that, when I walked into it, could remove all the stresses I had to go through to get here. Just kind of wipe them off my shoulder as I enter the space. That’s why when you walk in here, you’re immediately slapped in the face with a vibe. Because that’s what I need, is to get slapped in the face with a vibe. It’s perfect for me and for us.”
Outerspace hallway (Photo: James Dukes | Facebook)
That vibe is in a colorful, electric, semi-science-fiction vein, practically daring you to innovate. And such an environment was of the upmost importance as the collective created their first standalone facility. MAD recalls its genesis in the pandemic. “I look back and think, ‘Wow, we did all of this [recorded work before Outerspace] from spare bedrooms in my house. That’s kinda crazy.’ But when 2020 hit us, my son was almost 3. He was growing up and needed more space. The pandemic sent us all into our own caves, in isolation. I began to consider, ‘How do I interact with so many people, yet keep my family safe and separated?’ The obvious answer was to find a new space.”
But why call it Outerspace? As MAD explains, “I’m a big comic book guy, and I love Watchmen. There’s a classic image from that graphic novel, of Doctor Manhattan on Mars. When he needed to silence his mind and get some peace, he would just go and sit on Mars by himself. So when I thought about putting a place together, I wanted it to be for me what Mars was for Doctor Manhattan.”
As the Unapologetic team progressed, the logic of their chosen motif unfolded. “So if you go to Outerspace, you fly into Andromeda, the main control room,” explains MAD. “And then maybe you end up on another planet. So we call our live room Another Planet. And if there’s life there, you expect to see water and vegetation. So our two isolation booths in the live room are called The River, for the water, and The Garden, for the vegetation.” True to its name, The Garden is festooned with roses.
But there’s more, all designed with considerable care by the group’s various members. As MAD noted on his Facebook page, “I felt like most studios were designed by engineers, for engineers. I just wanted mine to be overwhelmingly for artists.” And that’s what the various rooms convey. Butterfly, the smaller studio, is named after the colliding Butterfly Galaxies. Then there are the hallways, the dressing room, the bathroom, and The Shuttle. “The Shuttle is the room I’m most excited about,” says MAD. “Our room dedicated to visual media and visual arts. It’s stocked with high-end computer equipment, microphones, cameras, Go-Pros. It’s acoustically treated, but you can take off the treatment if you want bare, white walls.” At last, Unapologetic can integrate all their output under one roof.
“One day, just for fun, we tried to exercise this new assembly line,” says MAD. “You can record here, mix here, and shoot the video here. So PreauXX cut a song in Butterfly, then I began mixing it in Andromeda, and we bounced out a rough mix so they could shoot a music video for it in The Shuttle. Three or four hours later, PreauXX had a new song mixed, mastered, and filmed.”
Ryan, Adam, Isaac, and
Estefania Long (Photo: Michael Donahue)
If you want a Chicago-style pizza and to eat like the true Chicagoans do, head on over to the pizza joint Izzy & Adam’s.
“The novelty Chicago-style pizza is ‘deep dish,’” says owner Ryan Long, 33. “That’s how they did it originally in Chicago. What everyone knows.”
However, according to Long, the real Chicago style is “tavern style. Thin crust that you cut into squares.”
Beginning December 14th, Izzy & Adam’s will also start offering thin-crust pizza.
The restaurant, which opened last September, has been exclusively selling deep-dish pizzas. Its motto is “Windy City Flavor in the Mid-South.”
Both types of pizzas are available in “all the same flavors. Just different portions,” Long says.
The two-inch-or-so deep-dish pizza is “a cheese-lover’s pizza. There’s a lot of cheese on it. It’s kind of a different pizza. There’s more filling. And it’s just unique to Chicago because it was invented there.”
The Chicago thin-crust pizza is different than the New York-style, which most people are familiar with: big slices you can fold over.
But with deep dish, “you put ingredients on the bottom, then the cheese, and the sauce goes on top of it all. And it’s garnished with Romano cheese and parmesan.”
They use “raw Italian sausage” on both pizzas. “We put on quarter-size pieces and it cooks in the oven. The grease from that pork gets released into the sauce. That’s what makes it damn good.”
Long knows a thing or two about Chicago pizza. “I grew up in Chicago in the Northwest suburbs. Rolling Meadows.”
His whole family cooked on weekends. “We would do Greek burgers — half lamb, half beef. Lasagna was a big thing.”
They grilled outdoors all year — even in the snowy winters. “In the wintertime you shovel a pathway to the grill. That’s a Chicago thing.”
Long became fascinated with the restaurant business when he worked at Olive Garden in college. “The majority of people you cook for, you’ll never see them. But you still have that ability to change their day for the better.”
He was more into sports than cooking. “Football was always my primary sport growing up. I started when I was 6 and played until I was 21 in college. University of Texas at El Paso. Linebacker.”
But, he says, “I saw the competition level in college and realized I was probably not going to the NFL.”
Rosati’s Pizza in Chicago is where he learned the restaurant business. “I, essentially, learned everything from there and just took it all over here and opened up.”
Long planned to open a restaurant in Chicago, but his wife, Estefania, got a job with a pharmaceutical company in Memphis. “We brought all the equipment down here. We already had our oven, our assembly units. I had a dough mixer. We had a dough roller. We had quite a bit.”
And, he says, “We got pretty lucky finding a spot on Summer Avenue.”
He named the restaurant after his two sons, Isaac and Adam.
Long will never forget opening day. “We had 60 orders in the course of two hours. We had to close up early during our grand opening. It was nuts. We were only open for about three hours.”
The explanation? “We ran out of dough.”
His pizzas quickly became popular. “There were not a lot of deep-dish pizzas, if any, in Memphis.”
Long also discovered there were “a lot more people down here from Chicago than we expected.”
And those people “do miss the pizza.”
Pizza is his number-one seller, but his Italian beef sandwich, a “Chicago version of a French dip,” is number two.
Other items include wings, salads, and zeppole Italian doughnuts. “Very similar to beignets. Small little squares. And we just drop them down in the fryer for a couple of minutes, toss with powdered sugar, and serve with chocolate sauce.”
And, of course, Izzy & Adam’s sells a “Chicago hot dog,” Long says. “You have to have a Vienna beef hot dog. It’s a Chicago all-beef hot dog. With mustard, pickle relish, tomato, onions, pickle spears, and sport peppers — little yellow peppers.”
Izzy & Adam’s is at 6343 Summer Avenue, Suite 110; (901) 529-7428
In high demand (Photo: Reynaldo #brigworkz Brigantty | Pexels)
Fish in the ocean probably don’t have a sense that they’re underwater, just as we don’t think much about being surrounded by air all the time here on the surface of earth. Nevertheless, those environments are critical to everyday life for fish and people, even if they are easy to ignore.
Similarly, everything we do economically is tied to the U.S. dollar, and it’s easy to forget how important it is to our daily lives. Americans have to think even less about other currencies than most global citizens because oil and a great deal of international trade is priced in dollars. Nevertheless, the U.S. dollar is not a fixed measure but fluctuates in value frequently — against other currencies, commodities, and anything else priced on a large scale worldwide.
The best-known index of the dollar’s value is the DXY index, which compares the dollar against six other major currencies. According to the DXY index, the dollar has appreciated by about 30 percent over the last ten years and is up 10 percent this year alone. A strong dollar might seem like a good thing, and it does make imported goods cheaper and international vacations more affordable. However, dollar strength can create problems throughout the world, including here in the U.S.
When the dollar rises, exports from the U.S. are less affordable, which hurts U.S. businesses. The price of oil becomes less affordable for the world, as global oil trade is still almost always priced in dollars. This makes goods more expensive even in the U.S., since oil is critical to almost every aspect of production and transportation in global trade. Smaller countries feel even more pain, since they often issue dollar-denominated bonds, which become more expensive to service and ultimately pay off.
Several phenomena can cause dollar strength. The demand for the dollar is uniquely strong, since it is required to settle so many sorts of international payments throughout the world. Also, when geopolitical tension rises, investors tend to buy up dollars and U.S. treasuries as a safer place to park money. But perhaps most importantly, demand for the dollar is driven by interest rate differentials, since currency traders prefer holding currencies that generate the most “carry,” or net interest on investment in the currency.
The Fed has quickly and consistently hiked interest rates in 2022, and the carry created by these rising interest rates means that demand for the dollar went even higher this year. The Fed’s actions pushed USD up almost 20 percent at one point in 2022 alone, which is a startling move for an asset class that is typically much less volatile.
The natural swing of the dollar up and down over time suggests you probably want some exposure to non-dollar assets like international stocks at all times. If the status of the dollar as the reserve currency or treasuries as the reserve asset is meaningfully challenged then non-dollar assets can do some real work in your portfolio.
The dollar was up 20 percent in 2022, but since the peak it has fallen about 10 percent on expectations the Fed will pause or cut rates in the future (reducing the carry). As one consequence of this, the international indexes we follow are dramatically outperforming U.S. markets in Q4 of this year.
Fish may not be able to diversify out of water and we can’t diversify away from air, but we can definitely diversify our investments. As Nobel Laureate Harry Markowitz once said, diversification is the only free lunch, and it’s likely that international exposure could be increasingly important to your secure financial future in the years to come.
Gene Gard CFA, CFP, CFT-I, is Chief Investment Officer at Telarray, a Memphis-based wealth management firm that helps families navigate investment, tax, estate, and retirement decisions. Ask him your questions or schedule an objective, no-pressure portfolio review at letstalk@telarrayadvisors.com. Sign up for their next free online seminar on the Events tab at telarrayadvisors.com.
ARIES (March 21-April 19): Aries painter Vincent van Gogh was renowned for translating his sublime and unruly passions into colors and shapes on canvas. It was a demanding task. He careened between torment and ecstasy. “I put my heart and soul into my work,” he said, “and I have lost my mind in the process.” That’s sad! But I have good news for you, Aries. In the coming months, you will have the potential to reach unprecedented new depths of zest as you put your heart and soul into your work and play. And hallelujah, you won’t lose your mind in the process! In fact, I suspect you will become more mentally healthy than you’ve been in a long time.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): “The soul is silent,” writes Taurus poet Louise Glück. “If it speaks at all, it speaks in dreams.” I don’t agree with her in general, and I especially don’t agree with her in regard to your life in the coming weeks. I believe your soul will be singing, telling jokes, whispering in the dark, and flinging out unexpected observations. Your soul will be extra alive and alert and awake, tempting you to dance in the grocery store and fling out random praise and fantasize about having your own podcast. Don’t underestimate how vivacious your soul might be, Taurus. Give it permission to be as fun and funny as it yearns to be.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): The coming weeks will be an excellent time to expand your understanding about the nature of stress. Here are three study aids: 1. High stress levels are not healthy for your mind and body, but low to moderate stress can be good for you. 2. Low to moderate stress is even better for you if it involves dilemmas that you can ultimately solve. 3. There is a thing called “eustress,” which means beneficial stress. It arises from a challenge that evokes your vigor, resilience, and willpower. As you deal with it, you feel hopeful and hardy. It’s meaningful and interesting. I bring these ideas to your attention, dear Gemini, because you are primed to enjoy a rousing upgrade in your relationship with stress.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Long before he launched his illustrious career, Cancerian inventor Buckminster was accepted to enroll at Harvard University. Studying at such a prestigious educational institution was a high honor and set him up for a bright future. Alas, he was expelled for partying too hard. Soon he was working at odd jobs. His fortunes dwindled, and he grew depressed. But at age 32, he had a pivotal mystical experience. He seemed to be immersed in a globe of white light hovering above the ground. A disembodied voice spoke, telling him he “belonged to the universe” and that he would fulfill his life purpose if he applied himself to serving “the highest advantage of others.” How would you like a Buckminster Fuller-style intervention, Cancerian? It’s available if you want it and ask for it.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Leo-born Judith Love Cohen was an electrical engineer who worked on NASA’s Apollo Space Program. She was also the mother of the famous actor Jack Black. When she was nine months pregnant with Jack, on the day she went into labor, she performed a heroic service. On their way to the moon, the three astronauts aboard the Apollo 13 spacecraft had encountered a major systems failure. In the midst of her birth process, Judith Love Cohen carried out advanced troubleshooting that helped save their lives and bring their vehicle safely back to Earth. I don’t expect you to achieve such a monumental feat in the coming days, Leo. But I suspect you will be extra intrepid and even epic in your efforts. And your ability to magically multitask will be at a peak.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): When you’re at the height of your powers, you provide the people in your life with high-quality help and support. And I believe you could perform this role even stronger in 2023. Here are some of the best benefits you can offer: 1. Assist your allies in extracting bright ideas from confusing mishmashes. 2. Help them cull fertile seeds from decaying dross. 3. As they wander through messy abysses, aid them in finding where the redemption is. 4. Cheer on their successes with wit and charm.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): A blogger named Daydreamydyke explains the art of bestowing soulful gifts. Don’t give people you care for generic consumer goods, she tells us. Instead, say to them, “I picked up this cool rock I found on the ground that reminded me of you,” or “I bought you this necklace for 50 cents at a yard sale because I thought you’d like it,” or “I’ve had this odd little treasure since childhood, but I feel like it could be of use to you or give you comfort, so I want you to have it.” That’s the spirit I hope you will adopt during the holiday season, Libra — as well as for all of 2023, which will be the year you could become a virtuoso gift-giver.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): In 1957, engineers Alfred Fielding and Marc Chavannes invented three-dimensional plastic wallpaper. No one bought the stuff, though. A few years later, they rebranded it as Bubble Wrap and marketed it as material to protect packages during shipment. Success! Its new use has been popular ever since. I suspect you are in a phase comparable to the time between when their plastic wallpaper flopped and before they dreamed up Bubble Wrap. Have faith in the possibility of there being a Second Act, Scorpio. Be alert for new applications of possibilities that didn’t quite make a splash the first time around.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Better than most, you have a rich potential to attune yourself to the cyclical patterns of life. It’s your birthright to become skilled at discerning natural rhythms at work in the human comedy. Even more fortunately, Capricorn, you can be deeply comforted by this awareness. Educated by it. Motivated by it. I hope that in 2023, you will develop your capacity to the next level. The cosmic flow will be on your side as you strive to feel the cosmic flow — and place yourself in closer and closer alignment with it.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Anne, a character in a book by L. M. Montgomery, says she prefers the word “dusk” over “twilight” because it sounds so “velvety and shadowy.” She continues, “In daylight, I belong to the world … in the night to sleep and eternity. But in the dusk, I’m free from both and belong only to myself.” According to my astrological assessment, you Aquarians will go through a dusk-like phase in the coming weeks: a time when you will belong solely to yourself and any other creature you choose to join you in your velvety, shadowy emancipation.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): My Piscean friend Venus told me, “We Pisceans feel everything very intensely, but alas, we do not possess the survival skills of a Scorpio or the enough-is-enough, self-protective mechanism of the Cancerians. We are the water sign most susceptible to being engulfed and flooded and overwhelmed.” I think Venus is somewhat correct in her assessment. But I also believe you Fishes have a potent asset that you may not fully appreciate or call on enough. Your ability to tune into the very deepest levels of emotion potentially provides you with access to a divine power source beyond your personality. If you allow it to give you all of its gifts, it will keep you shielded and safe and supported.
These words rubbed me the wrong way last week when Amazon announced a campaign to allow customers the opportunity to say “thank you” and send a $5 tip to their delivery driver. Not that giving thanks is a bad idea. We should all show more gratitude more often. It’s just that coming from one of the most profitable companies in the U.S. — and on the heels of reports of a lawsuit launched against it, for withholding employee tips of all things, in addition to impending layoffs which include jobs in its Alexa division — it sounds like a bit of a joke.
For the 12 months ending in September 2022, Amazon exceeded $502 billion in revenue and $11 billion in net income. Billion. In a society where instant gratification has become the norm, and where with a few mouse clicks or screen taps, we can have just about anything we’d ever need or want delivered to our front doors in a matter of hours or days, the irony of asking a robot to say thank you to the humans doing all that work does not escape me.
According to Amazon’s announcement: “Starting December 7, any time a customer says, ‘Alexa, thank my driver,’ the driver who delivered their most recent package will be notified of the customer’s appreciation. And, in celebration of this new feature, with each ‘thank you’ received from customers, drivers will also receive an additional $5, at no cost to the customer. We’ll be doing this for the first 1 million ‘thank yous’ received. And, the five drivers who receive the most customer ‘thank yous’ during the promotional period, will also be rewarded with $10,000 and an additional $10,000 to their charity of choice.”
Okay, sounds good. But what’s $5 million to Amazon — a corporation that netted $33.3 billion in profits in 2021? While this year thus far has shaped up to be the first in recent past that the company has shown a decline in profits (2021 showed a 56.41 percent increase from 2020; 2020 an 84.08 percent increase over 2019), that amount is but a drop of water in the ocean.
According to ZipRecruiter, the average national salary for Amazon delivery drivers is $43,794, depending on location, with an average of $41,050 per year in Tennessee. There are also a slew of Amazon Flex drivers — a program that launched in 2015 as the uptick of services like Uber, Lyft, and the like saw more people using their own cars to make extra cash. Those Flex workers are independent contractors who do not receive reimbursement for gas, mileage, parking fees, etc. — and who, Amazon reports, earn $18 to $25 an hour, again depending on location and how quickly they complete their deliveries. Not bad for an hourly rate, but factor in gas, vehicle wear and tear, and physical demands, and you’ve gotta wonder what that balances out to. Of course, people choose to work at Amazon and could seek employment elsewhere at any time. But that’s not the point. Folks who work in the warehouses and in shipping and delivery are among the most integral parts of the business. Do consumers need to log on to an app or ask an electronic device to ensure they’re appreciated or properly compensated?
The “thank my driver” campaign hit its limit just one day after the launch, with Amazon announcing December 8th, “We have received more than 1 million ‘thank yous’ concluding the promotion offering $5 per ‘thank you’ to eligible drivers. You can still share your appreciation by saying, ‘Alexa, thank my driver.’ We are thankful for the enthusiastic response to the promotion and the appreciation shown to drivers.”
So yes, of course, continue to thank your driver. (Although I’m curious if they’re being inundated with constant, now-annoying notifications.) Maybe put a little care package out with snacks or a gift card. But this whole thing reeks of a PR stunt to show Amazon as a company that cares for its workforce. And maybe it does. It could be a great place to work; I wouldn’t know. But I do know that its founder, Jeff Bezos, is reported to be the fourth-wealthiest person in the world, and that doesn’t happen without a certain level of smarts — and, I dare say, greed.
While we’re in the spirit of gratitude, if the opportunity arises, be sure to express thanks to your other delivery drivers, postal workers, restaurant servers, retail associates, and everyone else who keeps the ships afloat, especially this time of year. And consider stopping in a locally owned shop for some of your holiday gifting needs this season. They could use the support much more than Amazon.
