2008

Occasionally, there are discoveries so profound, so significant, that they require not a month of recognition, but a full year. Two thousand and eight was full of many things—elections, crises, scandals, inappropriate wardrobe choices—and some other things that happened on different days, too. So we asked: What is the best thing you discovered this year? A new sense of patriotism, a new family member, a new favorite cheese, perhaps? Here are notes from the year that was.


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Look, just because I’m a sucker for talking, costumed animals doesn’t mean I’ll fall for any chihuahua performing “Hound Dog” in a leather jacket and stapled-on Ray-Ban sunglasses. In fact, I consider myself something of an aficionado in the area of talking animal films. And this is, without a doubt, the real deal. Produced between 1929 and 1931—in the early years of both sound movies and peanut butter—MGM’s Dogville Comedy Shorts feature all manner of impeccably costumed canines lip-synching to melodramatic dialogue. I read that thin piano wires were attached to the dogs’ clothing to “puppet” them around the set and I feel this was perhaps the best use of piano wire since Mozart’s Requiem. What makes these shorts so extraordinary isn’t just the fact that these dogs are acting their guts out—it’s the seriousness of the work. The canine actors portray rape victims, death-row convicts, WWI soldiers. And, just when you think you’ve seen it all, a bulldog milks a goat. (That brief clip, taken out of context, is like the entire World Wide Web distilled to 11 perfect seconds.) Dogville is the filet mignon of anthropomorphic entertainment; Beverly Hills Chihuahua, you’re nothing but computer-generated dog food. —Todd Levin


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Thank you, 2008, for initiating the chronic threat of job loss. It was a great way to remind me what a blessing it is to already have decent warm boots, how much I don’t need to upgrade anything, and how ridiculous it would be to try to keep up with the Chaudhuris (It’s the 21st century; the neighbors aren’t the Joneses, and that’s good too.) Though I never counted myself as a materialist, it’s still completely wonderful to put on a shirt I got a few years back and be grateful for the craftsmanship that’s held it together this long. Or to retrieve some takeout from the fridge and think, “This is delicious, we’re totally lucky to have it.” I could live without the fear, but the simple appreciation it’s brought about has made me feel that much more alive. —Lauren Frey


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I don’t think there’s a big target market for the new MacBook Air, but I am it, dead on the bullseye. I am mad for this computer. It does everything I need it to, and since my demands don’t exceed writing, editing, and emailing, that’s not much. It’s quiet and cool (thanks to the solid-state drive), snappy and responsive, and just the right size (thanks to the improved processing and bigger storage capacity). And it plays to my preference for minimalist thingies when it comes to how an object is built. I take it everywhere. I clean it weekly. I even named it: Jeanine. Jeanine, I love you. —Rosecrans Baldwin


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Triple Canopy is a new-ish online magazine that’s caught my eye a number of times this year, both for its sleek, modernist design and its consistently solid content. Most of the articles try to blend together different media and disciplines (e.g., an essay with photos, a video with notes, poems with embedded audio, etc.), and so it’s neat in that it’s a magazine that really would have been impossible back in the dusty age of print. With a gun to my head I’d compare it to Cabinet, but you know, with a gun to my head, I’d probably say a lot of things. —TMN Intern Matt Robison


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You know how you are supposed to be slightly (or mostly) bitter about your job? You know the drill: You’re overeducated, overqualified, underpaid; your boss sucks; you play drinking games when you watch Office Space; you might get laid off; this is no time for a failing economy; words like “restructuring” and “redundancies” get thrown about willy-nilly, etc., etc., etc. 2008, I want to thank you for making almost none of the above true. Maybe I won’t always love my new job. But 2008, you kicked 2007’s ass and you know it. So 2009? Step up. —Bridget Fitzgerald


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The best thing I discovered this year is Lapham’s Quarterly. It is an absolutely phenomenal magazine. —Anthony Doerr


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In 2008, I discovered that dogs don’t suck. I have always disliked dogs, but in order to provide my beloved’s unruly and needy Basset hound with a sidekick to wear him out and keep him company, we brought home a malnourished three-month-old beagle mix that we named Mo. Mission accomplished: She has calmed the long-eared little punk marvelously. We are beginning to guess that her other parent was a cattle dog: She has long, deer-like legs and tries to herd everything in sight: us, the Basset, the furniture. When she lies on her back for a belly rub, her legs fold over and flop about like chicken wings, making her look like a roast dinner. When it’s cold and she doesn’t want to go out, she’ll sit, repeatedly, with a firm little nod, to make the point that she is NOT GOING OUT. In the two months we’ve had her, she’s doubled in size and is on track to weigh 50 pounds. The other day she and I were playing tug-of-war, and my beloved laughed at me. “What?” I asked. “You fell in love with a dog,” he said. And he was right. —Liz Entman


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The best thing about the past year? Pippa Charlotte Bell, born March 14, 2008. For being a perfect complement and occasional foil to her big brother. Mostly for the smile that I get every evening when I walk in the door. —Jonathan Bell


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Ordinarily I don’t like Monterey Jack cheese and especially not morel mushrooms. And, scandalously, the Wisconsin-based “Nut’n But Cheese” in fact sells other things besides nuts ‘n cheese, including an assortment of sausages, cheddar beef sticks, and a jerky-like product known as a “Landjaeger,” as well as novelty salt shakers, cheesehead hats, and a “Merlot-scented, Champaign [sic] candle.” Also the cheese you order arrives in a cardboard box along with some wet newspaper and a gauze-like substance that was presumably once wrapped around an ice cube. Nevertheless the company’s Morel Mushroom & Onion Cheese is a revelation. Forget the crackers, I could hold a block of this creamy, delicious stuff in my hand and eat it like a banana. At the next party I might. That would mean less for you and I want to eat it more than I want you to be impressed. —Kevin Guilfoile


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There’s nothing like a little antiquated language and a couple of peculiar mannerisms to get me excited about using them with regularity in the new year. Boy, howdy! I was born and raised in New York, but my friend from Wisconsin (the rapscallion) is convinced I was Midwestern in a former life. I have never visited the great state of Wisconsin, but I do declare, the cheese is simply marvelous, and I’ve heard only good things about the bratwurst. All in all, I’m feeling peachy keen about it. And how! —Bridget Fitzgerald


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As the economy slows, so do I. The best thing I discovered this year was how to slow down, and take it all in. Freezing beach parties were followed by hot Brooklyn roof parties, beach-house retreats, six days of muddy music festivals, and weekly karaoke at home in England. All mixed with hard cider, it was exhausting—especially after a few years of hard study. Slowing down was crucial. Examples: Exercising without sprinting; reading one book at a time; frequent King of the Hill marathons; no multitasking. The “Slow Movement” certainly doesn’t have allegiance, there’s no navel-gazing or complacency here. I’ve just jumped from the runaway train, deciding it would be best to take my time about it all. Decelerating does take time, so give yourself plenty—whiplash sucks. —TMN Intern Mike Smith


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To reflect this year’s odd blend of brilliance (Obama’s win) and irritating dickishness (nearly everything else), I thought I’d talk a bit about the biggest, most brilliant dickhead of all, David Mamet, and his tragically under-celebrated 2008 film, Redbelt. Of course I realize what a huge leap of faith it takes to consciously decide to watch a jujitsu movie starring Tim Allen. But for the adventurous few out there, therein lies your treasure. Oh what gobs of whimsy you’ll feel, dear viewers, when it unexpectedly dons on you how much in fact you love this movie. And Tim Allen? His presence is like a cool balm, friends. It lends this over-the-top spectacle an air of unpretentious fun—cementing it firmly as a lowbrow pleasure, however strange and nonsensical its plot and characters may be. Somehow Mamet manages to accelerate his lines of repetitive, meaningless dialogue to such velocity that they seem to lift off the ground, leaping to the strangest and most sublime heights. Think Showgirls but with a really macho Beckett writing the script. —TMN Intern Matt Robison


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Cleaning up after myself: I have a history of trying to turn slobbiness into a political statement. Hanging up clothes is for superficial materialists who care more about the state of their wardrobe than global injustice and exploitation. Time doing dishes would be better spent curled up with Aung San Suu Kyi’s Letters From Burma. Mopping the floor? For capitalists—correction: for boring capitalists. But seriously, screw that. What could be more superficial than letting a mess define you? Plus, it’s kind of nice to have sparkling countertops and shiny floors. Say what you will about Gandhi, but dude kept a clean house. So by all means, get dirty breaking into government buildings and stealing files; make a mess preparing organic, local, vegan meals; get a cop indicted after he topples a cyclist off his bike; but then come home, take out the recycling, and put your clothes in the hamper—a little salt and cold water will get the bloodstains of the revolution right out. —Nicole Pasulka


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Hope, and not the kind Obama brought, but the kind that’s arriving next April in the shape of a baby boy. —Andrew Womack


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I discovered America. I like it. —Pasha Malla