December 25, 2008 | 10:08 pm

Lazy me, taking off until Jan 5, 2009

Posted by Tom Teicholz

thought I would be blogging and working straight through the holidays — and trust me there’s stuff to write about:. I want to tell you about recent visits to the restaurants Sushi Zo, Michael Mina’s Louis XIV, Slumdog, the wrester, Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland, and Jim Harrison’s The English Major — but suddenly I’ve lost steam. I don’t feel like going in to the office, don’t feel like pushing the peanut up the hill with a pencil, as one of my editors used to say.

No, no, no. I’m just going to spend time with family and friends, read more novels that I’ve been wanting to read for pleasure — not work, and take a short trip up north.

Recharge the batteries. Put 2008 behind us. take a few days grace at the start of 2009. Blog to you then!, later

December 22, 2008 | 8:17 pm

Where’s Geffen?

Posted by Tom Teicholz

Is it my imagination or has David Geffen been extremely silent as of late?

No mention of Geffen in any of the Save MOCA Discussion, despite one of the MOCA outposts being called The Geffen Contemporary.

No mention of Geffen in the LA Times imploding. Remember when he wanted to buy the paper?

No mention of Geffen in the Madoff fraud — Spielberg, yes; Katzenberg, yes; but no Geffen.

And no mention of Geffen in all the Dreamworks financing issues. Spielberg is going into his own pocket to buy out the slate from Paramount, and keep the company afloat until the bridge loans kick in. But no Geffen.

Strange, no?

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December 22, 2008 | 8:11 pm

A beautiful tale of Tzedaka (even if they don’t mention the word)

Posted by Tom Teicholz

On today’s New York Times Op_Ed page there is a beautiful story by Ted Gup about a pseudonymous donor in 1933 Depression era Canton Ohio, who took out an ad in the local newspaper and gave money to those in need in five and ten dollar increments to a total of 75 townsmen and families in need to a total of $50, and the writer who found out 75 years later that his grandfather was the mysterious donor. The writer explains that his grandfather who a Jewish immigrant from Eastern Europe who made and lost money and was now back on his feet and wanted to share with his fellow citizens in need.

Gup writes of his grandfathers “yuletide” gift and his values but what he doesn’t say and is evident is that his father had been instilled with the virtue — nay the compulsion, of Tzedakah, charity to others.

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