By Jessie Seigel / Washington, D.C. Anti-democratic forces are on the move. An alarming new study issued in April by the Brennan Center for Justice reports that Republican legislators in 47 states have introduced 361 bills intended to restrict voting rights, Five of these bills (in Georgia, Iowa, Utah and two in Arkansas) have already been signed into law. More than 50 of them are moving through legislatures in 24 states, and 29 have passed at least one legislative chamber. Georgia’s law, passed on March 25, is a prime example of this national effort at subversion of the electoral process. The Georgia law requires a photo ID for voting absentee by mail; a shortened period to request an absentee ballot; and limits the number of drop boxes as well as their locations and the hours they can be used. The law inhumanely makes it illegal to give food or water to citizens waiting in line to vote. And it provides that Georgia’s Republican-controlled State Election Board can remove and replace county election officials, and even limit the power of Georgia’s Secretary of State, its chief elections officer. The GOP is trying to justify its voter suppression venture in Georgia and elsewhere based on Donald Trump’s big lie that there was wholesale election fraud in the 2020 election. They claim these anti-democratic laws are needed to ensure election security and give the public confidence in election fairness. But President Biden had it right when he recently called these legislative moves “Jim Crow on steroids.” They are a throwback to state and local laws like poll taxes, literacy tests and others that prevented Black people from voting until they were overturned by the Voting Rights Act of 1965. The Supreme Court’s evisceration in 2013 of the 1965 Voting Rights Act in Shelby County v. Holder, on the specious grounds that it was no longer necessary, is permitting Georgia and other states to reinstall the old Jim Crow system in this new form. There was no election fraud in 2020 apart from Republican efforts to prevent people from voting, which Georgia’s new law and those proposed across the country are intended to amplify a thousandfold. Georgia’s ID requirements limit eligibility of otherwise qualified voters. The number of absentee drop boxes for Georgia’s four most populous counties will be decreased from 94 to 23. That and the law’s other extreme measures hampering the ability to vote early or by mail will make the lines to vote on election day even longer than they have been in the past, especially in predominantly Black communities. But the voters targeted and their allies are not taking the evisceration of voting rights lying down. Civil rights and voting rights groups have filed multiple federal lawsuits challenging the Georgia statute, and stand ready to oppose such legislation in other states. In addition, the Democratically controlled House of Representatives has passed HR1, the For the People Act, which would override these retrograde Jim Crow-style laws. That bill must still, of course, overcome Republican obstruction to get through a 50-50 Senate. On another front, groups including Black Voters Matter, the New Georgia Project Action Fund and the Georgia NAACP have called on corporations to speak out against the voting restrictions and to stop donating money to the Republican legislators sponsoring the bills. Some activists have threatened to boycott corporations that continue to back Republican lawmakers rather than stand up for the right to vote. The Corporate Response: Following lobbying by civil rights groups and consultation with the Major League Baseball Players Association, Major League Baseball (MLB) has taken a principled stand on the side of voting rights and democracy. MLB has moved its 2021 All-Star Game from Atlanta to Denver. It is heartening to see the professionals engaged in America’s signature pastime standing up for such an integral American value. Other corporations initially were much slower to speak out, let alone take action. It was only after the Georgia legislation was passed that Atlanta-based Delta Air Lines CEO Ed Bastian said that the new election law was “unacceptable” and “based on a lie.” In an email to his employees, he wrote “the entire rationale for this bill was based on a lie: that there was widespread voter fraud in Georgia in the 2020 elections. This is simply not true. Unfortunately, that excuse is being used in states across the nation that are attempting to pass similar legislation to restrict voting rights.” Also after the law’s passage, James Quincey, the CEO of Coca-Cola, another of Georgia’s most influential companies, said the law "does not promote principles we have stood for in Georgia around broad access to voting, around voter convenience, about ensuring election integrity.” He also stated: "Our focus is now on supporting federal legislation that protects voting access and addresses voter suppression across the country…We all have a duty to protect everyone's right to vote, and we will continue to stand up for what is right in Georgia and across the U.S." If Quincey’s reference to federal legislation means that Coca-Cola will support the For the People Act recently passed by the House, that support would be meaningful, since the bill is expected to face substantial difficulty in a Senate equally divided between Republicans and Democrats. But where were Coca-Cola and Delta before the Georgia legislation was passed? Coca Cola was, at best, silent and, according to the Brennan Center, had “made political contributions to the politicians who wrote, passed and signed [the] bill into law.” According to Delta CEO Bastian, the airline “joined other major Atlanta corporations to work closely with elected officials from both parties, to try and remove some of the most egregious measures from the bill. We had some success in eliminating the most suppressive tactics that some had proposed.” He also stated, “I need to make it crystal clear that the final bill is unacceptable and does not match Delta’s values.” It is difficult to take Bastian’s protestation as genuine, given that Delta participated in creating the law. To say Delta tried to remove the most egregious measures from the bill is really to say not only that Delta had influence over the creation of the legislation, but that it went along with the egregious measures that are still in the law rather than expose and publicly challenge them. The real movement toward corporate action was initially organized by Black corporate leaders. The former American Express CEO Kenneth Chenault and current Merck & Co. CEO Kenneth Frazier got 72 Black executives to publish an open letter denouncing the Georgia law and others like it in a full-page March 31 New York Times ad. The letter read in part, "As Black business leaders, we cannot sit silently in the face of this gathering threat to our nation's democratic values and allow the fundamental right of Americans, to cast their vote for whomever they choose, to be trampled upon yet again." Based on Chenault’s and Frazier’s outreach to other corporate executives and CEOs, the momentum of corporations challenging such legislation nationally has picked up speed. On April 10, 100 corporate leaders met on zoom to discuss what their role should be in the debate on voting rights. The meeting began with a call from Chenault and Frazier to sign a statement opposing restrictive voting laws. On April 14, the names of corporations, law firms, nonprofits, foundations and individual citizens filled up two-page ads in both the Washington Post and the New York Times, as signatories proclaiming that they stand for democracy and the ability of each citizen to cast ballots for the candidates of their choice. The ads stated that the right to vote must be ensured for all of us. They maintained that “We all should feel a responsibility to defend the right to vote and to oppose any discriminatory legislation or measures that restrict or prevent any eligible voter from having an equal and fair opportunity to cast a ballot.” Finally, the ads called for all “to join us in taking a nonpartisan stand for this most basic and fundamental right of all Americans.” This statement is a start. But talk is cheap—even at the rates the Washington Post and the Times charge for two-page ads. While the statements are designed to announce to civil rights groups, voting rights groups, and the public at large that corporate America is on the side of democracy, this alone will not have much effect on the GOP’s electorally subversive actions. The GOP Backlash: The after-the-fact declarations of solidarity with those trying to defend voting rights came too late for Georgia and said nothing specific about what the corporate world is prepared to do concerning those rights in the nation overall. But even those toothless statements were too much for the GOP, which has decried the corporations as cowards caving in to leftist pressure and threatened retribution. In Georgia, Republicans tried to rescind Delta Air Lines’ tax break, and eight members of the Georgia House Republican Caucus requested the symbolic removal of all Coca-Cola products from an office suite. At the national level, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell chastised the corporations, warning: "My advice to the corporate CEOs of America is to stay out of politics. Don't pick sides in these big fights." McConnell further maintained they could become "a vehicle for far-left mobs to hijack our country from outside the constitutional order.” Of course, McConnell didn’t mean the part about staying out of politics. He later clarified this, saying, "I'm not talking about political contributions. I'm talking about taking a position on a highly incendiary issue like this and punishing a community or a state because you don't like a particular law they passed.” McConnell supports corporate political speech so long as it is expressed as massive donations to Republicans like himself. He just doesn’t want corporations speaking out against laws he favors. When mocked for his hypocrisy, McConnell backed down, saying, "I didn't say that very artfully yesterday. They're certainly entitled to be involved in politics," and claimed his complaint was simply that the CEOs should read the bill. Florida Republican Senator Marco Rubio called Delta and Coca Cola “woke corporate hypocrites,” suggesting that because they do business in China yet fail to condemn China’s treatment of its citizens, they have no right to take a position on the treatment of voting rights in the U.S.—their own country. The conservative Wall Street Journal’s editorial board went even further, predicting that such companies “may pay the price when the woke mob decides to turn on them and they need GOP protection.” McConnell, Rubio, and The Wall Street Journal all make generous use of the word “mob” and scornful use of the word “woke.” But “woke” is a colloquialism for becoming alert to injustice in society, especially racism. Waking up to recognize and fight racism—especially as relates to voting rights—should be lauded, not scorned. And one wonders how any of them dare refer to a “woke mob” after a real mob’s attack on the Capitol. Merck CEO Frazier has maintained that “Free and fair access to the ballot was never a partisan issue. It’s a fundamental constitutional right,” and that it is not a political issue. While I agree that voting is a fundamental constitutional right and should not be a political issue, it very clearly is one. Corporations may want to pretend that they are not involved in politics. But every contribution they make to a party or candidate is a political act. Corporations need not only to take a side but to take a stand. They need to do more than buy two-page ads in The New York Times and the Washington Post. Corporations need to put their money where their mouths are by helping to fund the fight against restrictive legislation that has not yet passed, joining the suits challenging such laws that do pass, halting donations to Republicans sponsoring voter suppression and contributing instead to their opponents. Jessie Seigel is a fiction writer, an associate editor at the Potomac Review, a reviewer for The Washington Independent Review of Books, and a dabbler in political cartoons at Daily Kos. She has twice received an Artist’s Fellowship from the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities for her work. But, Seigel also had a long career as a government attorney, in which she honed her analytic skills. Of this double career, Seigel would say, “I guess my right and left brains are well balanced.” More on and from Seigel can be found at The Adventurous Writer, https://www.jessieseigel.com.

By Jane Fishman As rogue gardeners who believe in science and who want to live long enough to see our okra seeds germinate, we were in a pickle. For 20 years, we’ve been meeting the first Saturday of October and April to swap plants. We are not best friends; planting is the common denominator. I started hosting the Savannah Style Plant Swap after trying to trash some Mexican petunias – or were they beach daisies? – that had taken over my garden. I didn’t want to rip them out but I needed the room. I didn’t want to toss them in the compost pile but I was, well, tired of their greedy ways. No matter how much I ignored them, they continued to live, to breathe, to multiply. But oy, the guilt! Surely someone else might want these sprawling, hardy, robust plants. I didn’t. The swaps got me and others off the hook. Our theme? Invasive by nature. Then the pandemic hit. We weren’t eating out, shopping out, venturing out. We were being good. But jeez, did we have to scrap the plant swap too? We’re a band of merry gardeners who love to get real close and talk real dirty – about the four-story lime tree that won’t produce, how to grow sugar cane (lie it on its side about two inches in the dirt), what to do with the ancient but ubiquitous spiderwort that won’t stay in its own lane, how to coax a bloom out of the mercurial crocosmia, how to tame the alstroemeria (“you know, the flowers on Kroger’s latest billboard”), which is taking over the whole back 40. We’re a loquacious bunch. We have opinions. We turn to one another for advice. (Not the big box stores.) We know who knows best. (Not the horticulturists.) We don’t give a fig about espalier or garden design (though we love and aspire to be like the British environmental artist Andy Goldsworthy). We meet on a piece of land in West Savannah I’ve squatted on for years. It’s on the artsy-fartsy side but I grow things too even though there is no water source. It’s a simple but brilliant concept. Bring your plants, corms, roots, bulbs, seeds, rhizomes, trees, seedlings. No money is allowed. No tit for tat either. No one’s paying any attention to what you’re taking. No plants? Bring something to eat (one year, a returning swapper brought me some stinging nettle lasagna, the stinging nettle a freebie from the garden). Bring a story. But the virus! What to do and still stay alive? How to get our gardening camaraderie fix? Where will I get some promised north Georgia candy roaster squash seeds? Who can I coerce to haul away segments of my lethal prickly pear cactus? What about the seeds I culled from the zinnias that came with the following note: “First planted in 1942. Share the love.” The questions came flying in. This is what I told people. Come masked. Drop your plants off Thursday through Saturday. If there’s a crowd, turn around and come back later. Say hello with your eyes and your elbows. Keep the conversations to a minimum. Walk around the garden. Look at the early butterflies, listen to the mockingbirds. It worked. There were potted loquat trees, piles of queen’s tears (bilbergia), ginger lily roots, packages of loofah seeds, miniature packets of dwarf butterfly seeds, a stack of plastic pots, and even though I told people not to bring food, plates of zucchini bread from last year’s crop, poppy seed muffins, Girl Scout cookies, a pitcher of Jamaican sorrel. And a package of zinnias first planted in 1942 from the last swap. I had more than enough. I could share. Jane Fishman’s got a great life in Savannah. She gets to grow garlic, write newspaper columns in the Savannah Morning News about any wacko she can find (and get paid for it), publish books (her latest: I’d Rather Be Seen Than Viewed, a collection of her columns; preceded by So What’s the Hurry? Tales From the Train ; I Grew it My Way, How Not to Garden; The Dirt on Jane; and The Woman Who Saved an Island, the Story of Sandy West and Ossabaw Island), listen in on conversations with her two grandchildren, Baker and Benny, while going on morning nature walks as they debate which is better, living in the country or the city (“I like both habitats,” says 7-year-old Benny). Fishman owned a laundromat in Eureka Springs, Ark., cooked in a French restaurant in Key West, won a bunch of journalism awards in Savannah for humorous and serious columns. When she lived in Chicago and worked at WTTW public television, she met Fran of Kukla, Fran and Ollie and watched Abbie Hoffman rant at the trial of the Chicago 7. Fishman grew up in Detroit (Huntington Woods, really), where she never owned a car. She was the sports editor of her high school newspaper (The Acorn) at Royal Oak Dondero. This is her first wedding.

April 20, 2021 Jeffrey D. Sachs, William Schabas | Project Syndicate US President Joe Biden's administration has doubled down on the claim that China is mounting a genocide against the Uighur people in the Xinjiang region. But it has offered no proof, and unless it can, the State Department should withdraw the charge and support a UN-based investigation of the situation in Xinjiang. NEW YORK/LONDON – The US government needlessly escalated its rhetoric against China by claiming that a genocide is being mounted against the Uighur people in the Xinjiang region. Such a grave charge matters, as genocide is rightly considered “the crime of crimes.” Many pundits are now calling for a boycott of the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing, dubbing them the “Genocide Olympics.” The genocide charge was made on the final day of Donald Trump’s administration by then-Secretary of State Michael Pompeo, who made no secret of his belief in lying as a tool of US foreign policy. Now President Joe Biden’s administration has doubled down on Pompeo’s flimsy claim, even though the State Department’s own top lawyers reportedly share our skepticism regarding the charge. This year’s State Department Country Reports on Human Rights Practices (HRP) follows Pompeo in accusing China of genocide in Xinjiang. Because the HRP never uses the term other than once in the report’s preface and again in the executive summary of the China chapter, readers are left to guess about the evidence. Much of the report deals with issues like freedom of expression, refugee protection, and free elections, which have scant bearing on the genocide charge. There are credible charges of human rights abuses against Uighurs, but those do not per se constitute genocide. And we must understand the context of the Chinese crackdown in Xinjiang, which had essentially the same motivation as America’s foray into the Middle East and Central Asia after the September 2001 attacks: to stop the terrorism of militant Islamic groups. As the Hong Kong-based businessman and writer Weijian Shan has recounted, China experienced repeated terrorist attacks in Xinjiang during the same years that America’s flawed response to 9/11 led to repeated US violations of international law and massive bloodshed. Indeed, until late 2020, the US classified the Uighur East Turkestan Islamic Movement as a terrorist group, battled Uighur fighters in Afghanistan, and held many as prisoners. In July 2020, the United Nations noted the presence of thousands of Uighur fighters in Afghanistan and Syria. The charge of genocide should never be made lightly. Inappropriate use of the term may escalate geopolitical and military tensions and devalue the historical memory of genocides such as the Holocaust, thereby hindering the ability to prevent future genocides. It behooves the US government to make any charge of genocide responsibly, which it has failed to do here. Genocide is defined under international law by the UN Genocide Convention (1948). Subsequent judicial decisions have clarified its meaning. Most countries, including the United States, have incorporated the Convention’s definition into their domestic legislation without any significant alteration. In the past few decades, the leading UN courts have confirmed that the definition requires proof to a very high standard of the intentional physical destruction of a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. The definition specifies that one of five acts must be perpetrated. Obviously, killing tops the list. The State Department’s report on China says there were “numerous reports” of killings, but that “few or no details were available,” and cites only one case – that of a Uighur man detained since 2017 who died of natural causes, according to the authorities. The report doesn’t even explain why the official explanation should be questioned. Technically, genocide can be proven even without evidence that people were killed. But because courts require proof of intent to destroy the group physically, it is hard to make the case in the absence of proof of large-scale killings. This is especially true when there is no direct evidence of genocidal intent, for example in the form of policy statements, but merely circumstantial evidence, what international courts refer to as a “pattern of conduct.” International courts have repeatedly said that where genocide charges are based only upon inferences drawn from a pattern of conduct, alternative explanations must be ruled out definitively. That’s why the International Court of Justice rejected in 2015 the genocide charge against Serbia and the counter-charge against Croatia, despite evidence of brutal ethnic cleansing in Croatia. So, what else might constitute evidence of genocide in China? The State Department report refers to mass internment of perhaps one million Uighurs. If proven, that would constitute a gross violation of human rights; but, again, it is not evidence, per se, of intent to exterminate. Another of the five recognized acts of genocide is “imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group.” The State Department report refers to China’s notoriously aggressive birth-control policies. Until recently, China strictly enforced its one-child policy on the majority of its population but was more liberal toward ethnic minorities, including the Uighur. Today, the one-child policy is no longer applied to the majority Han Chinese, but stricter measures have been imposed on Xinjiang’s Muslim minority, whose families are traditionally larger than China’s average. Still, Xinjiang records a positive overall population growth rate, with the Uighur population growing faster than the non-Uighur population in Xinjiang during 2010-18. The genocide charge is being fueled by “studies” like the Newlines Institute report that recently made global headlines. Newlines is described as a “non-partisan” Washington, DC-based think tank. On closer inspection, it appears to be a project of a tiny Virginia-based university with 153 students, eight full-time faculty, and an apparently conservative policy agenda. Other leading human rights organizations have refrained from using the term. UN experts are rightly calling for the UN to investigate the situation in Xinjiang. China’s government, for its part, has recently stated that it would welcome a UN mission to Xinjiang based on “exchanges and cooperation,” not on “guilty before proven.” Unless the State Department can substantiate the genocide accusation, it should withdraw the charge. It should also support a UN-led investigation of the situation in Xinjiang. The work of the UN, and notably of UN Human Rights Special Rapporteurs, is essential to promote the letter and spirit of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/biden-should-withdraw-unjustified-xinjiang-genocide-allegation-by-jeffrey-d-sachs-and-william-schabas-2021-04 Jeffrey D. Sachs, University Professor at Columbia University, is Director of the Center for Sustainable Development at Columbia University and President of the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network. He has served as adviser to three UN Secretaries-General, and currently serves as an SDG Advocate under Secretary-General António Guterres. His books include The End of Poverty, Common Wealth, The Age of Sustainable Development, Building the New American Economy, A New Foreign Policy: Beyond American Exceptionalism, and, most recently, The Ages of Globalization. William Schabas is Professor of Law at Middlesex University, London, and author of Genocide in International Law: The Crime of Crimes (Cambridge University Press, 2009).

By Andy Borowitz April 20, 2021 WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—In a chorus of outrage directed at the President, Republicans accused Joe Biden of making millions of Americans’ arms hurt in his first hundred days in office. Leading the attack was Senator Ron Johnson, who claimed that Biden was hurting “between three and four million arms a day.” “Once your arm stops hurting, don’t get too comfortable,” he said. “In a few weeks, Joe Biden will make your arm hurt for a second time.” Johnson did not speculate about why the President wanted Americans’ arms to hurt, but said that Biden bears “full responsibility” for the nation’s epidemic of sore arms. “None of this would be happening if Donald Trump was President,” he charged. Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.

By Bonnie Fishman There are times when a fully stocked Pandemic Pantry is just not possible. I have been confronted with these times and quite frankly, they make me palpitate. I lose my grip on pantry reality. I pace. I fret. I obsess. So, you ask: why not make a grocery run and ease your anxiety? Simple: I’ll be in a particular kitchen for only a short time, not day-after-day, week-after-week, month after-month. The most common scenario for a short-term kitchen is when I travel, usually to Europe. If I’m going to be staying in one spot for a week, I select a rental house with a great kitchen. A must! In short order, I obtain very basic provisions to cook some great meals with local ingredients. These are the must-haves: olive oil, onions, garlic, tomatoes, Dijon mustard, vinegar, eggs, yogurt and cheese (preferably the local variety), great artisanal bread, maybe a handmade cured meat, and jam. Did I mention that I fill one of those seven-day pill counters with different herbs and spices, and bring along a pepper mill (you can’t really assume the rental will have these items)? Then, I’ll go to a nearby fish or meat market and the farmer’s market. Voilà! we have dinner. Enough fantasizing about world travel. Back to reality. I was recently faced with this very situation–a finite amount of time left in my kitchen. My husband and I were winding down in our new barn house in California. It is now about to become our permanent residence, however, we have a home in Michigan that we’ve lived in for 35 years. (When we came to California in December of 2019, it was for a three-month visit. The pandemic hit and we never left.) We are returning to that house to clear it out, line up a moving van, and put the house on the market. A daunting task. I have a fully stocked pantry there (of course I do!). We’ll be eating out of that for a few months. I do think I’ll have to heave-ho the freezer and fridge items, since they’ve been sitting there for a year and half now. Were there power outages while we were gone? When in doubt, throw it out! A week or so before we packed the car to drive east, I stopped buying food. That in and of itself is a hard concept to wrap my head around. What, not go to Trader Joe’s? STOP BUYING FOOD. It’s unnatural for me. But I had to buck up and not do it. This left me with the task of using up all the perishables in my fridge and many from the freezer. When I swam my morning laps, I had to get really creative with dinner ideas as I got closer to my departure. I scanned the freezer contents, then the fridge. I knew I had a fully stocked pantry, so anything that was perishable could easily be supported by the flavor profile of my choosing. I’m thinking shrimp. Should I go Mex, Italian, or Thai? I chose Thai and went for a standard stir fry. I love coconut milk and this was a perfect opportunity to use it. The full fat is really the best but truth be told, I do use the lite on occasion. You really can’t go wrong with a stir fry. No two are alike in my kitchen, I just use what’s there. I always begin with lots of fresh garlic, ginger, onions, and dried chili pepper flakes. This gives any combination you chose some depth of flavor. I also finish my Thai style stir fry with fresh lime juice and lots of fresh chopped cilantro. If one was lucky enough to have Thai basil handy, all the better. Lastly, I like to have some fresh chopped tomato in it, maybe one or two Roma tomatoes; if that’s not available, a tablespoon of tomato paste added to the coconut milk works fine. Your pan choice is very important when making any stir fry. A wok is ideal. I personally don’t own one, it’s not my thing. My new pan of choice is a braiser.. It has a large cooking surface with a thick bottom and 4-inch-high sides, usually with two handles. If all else fails, use a very large skillet. Remember: you can do no wrong–go for it and let us know at The Insider how it all worked out! Thai-Style Stir Fry Yield: 4-6 servings 1 1/2 lb. defrosted, peeled and deveined shrimp, 21-25 count, or 1 lb. tofu, cut into 1” chunks 2 Tbs. cornstarch 1/4 c. vegetable oil 2 Tbs. fresh minced ginger 4 garlic cloves, minced 1/2 medium onion, sliced into thin julienne 1/2 - 1 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes, depending on heat desired 1 poblano pepper, cut into thin julienne 1 red pepper, cut into thin julienne 2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced thin on the diagonal 3 stalks bok choy, sliced thin on the diagonal (can use celery if no bok choy) 1/2 lb. green beans, topped, or 2 cups of sliced thinly sliced eggplant 1 can unsweetened coconut milk 1 Tbs. tomato paste juice of 2 limes 1 bunch scallions, sliced thin on the diagonal 1/2 c. chopped fresh cilantro 1/2 c. dry roasted peanuts (optional) Blot the shrimp with paper towel so they are thoroughly dry. In a bowl, toss the shrimp or tofu with the cornstarch. In a very large skillet or wok, heat the oil over high heat. Add the shrimp and cook for a total of about 3 minutes, until barely golden but still a little raw in the center. Remove from pan and reserve. In the hot oil, add the ginger, garlic, and red pepper flakes. Cook for 1 minute. Add remaining vegetables. Turn down heat down to medium high. Stir fry for about 20 minutes, stirring often. Add the coconut milk and tomato paste. Bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer for 5 minutes. Blend in the lime juice and scallions. Return shrimp or tofu to the pan to heat through, about 2 minutes. Adjust the seasoning. Blend in the cilantro and peanuts. Serve over white rice. Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.

FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

A Poem by Dr. Barry Lubetkin Could Neil Armstrong have felt more exuberant than I, When his feet touched the lunar surface, And mine led me into a steakhouse, After freezing and craving outside for a year, And scowling at CLOSED? But Neil rocketed his joy All the way back. I did not. The reset has arrived but I’m not ready. Who are these strangers gorging around me? Where have they all been? I don’t care. The laughter and noise and gossip does not move me. Have I learned to covet aloneness? Me, the life of the party? The reset has arrived but I’m not ready. Patients say that they’re anxious for real time with me.
“ We’ve had our vaccines; let’s drop the ZOOM!” And I resist. I want to counsel in just my socks, no shoes, hair not properly combed, No Uber, no rushing, no office. Am I tricking myself? Has the remoteness made me a better therapist? The reset has arrived but I’m not ready. And all the friends I thought I missed. Have I really needed them so much? The “two shotters” want to hug, and kiss, and talk, and party. Oh! Do they want to party! I loved the alone time, the space, the quiet. Have I become the old man in his cabin at the top of the mountain? The reset has arrived but I’m not ready. And the guilt of wasted time that now turns my gut. The talking heads call it Covid exhaustion. ”
What was I thinking as I turned away from reading and creating and embraced reality TV? I used to be a doer. I welcomed challenges. The year of emptiness and sadness and loss wrecked that part of me. I betrayed my trust in who I needed to be. And now I struggle to reclaim myself. The reset has arrived but I’m not ready. Barry Lubetkin, Ph.D. is the co-director and co-founder of the Institute for Behavior Therapy in New York City. The Institute for Behavior Therapy is the oldest private cognitive behavior center in the United States.

By David Weiss April 6, 2021 (CNN): -- “Students at Lake Superior State University have had the unique opportunity to pursue a degree in cannabis chemistry since 2019. Now, they can also get a $1,200 scholarship.” Hold the back page, man! Ya mean y’all are gonna pay me to burn blunts and come up with like theories and shit? Yeah buddy, you can sign me up for that High-Q test right about now! Talk about a field I could get lost in! I’ll be the most diligent candidate for cannabis laureate that Superior State has ever tried to educate! So, like, when does the semester start? Admissions essay? Really? Does a lifetime of off-campus study mean nothing to you lab-coated lapdogs? Why, I was waking-and-baking way before Martha Stewart was indicted for chicken stock fraud! How dare you question my 10,000 hours smoking that will-killing shrub? Jeez, I could have learned to speak Swahili and mastered the cello by now but for my tireless devotion to cannabinoid studies. Nobel Peace Pipe Prize? A man can dream, can’t he? I have what Malcolm Gladhand – is that his name? -- calls an expert mind on the matter, that is if empirical research means anything to you cap-and-gown clowns! With due respect, do you eggheads even know how to roll a proper joint? I hope I’m not coming off cavalier, but I haven’t had a puff of the magic dragon for an hour or so and am feeling a wee bit tetchy. So can we please get the show on the road before you totally put me in the bummer tent? Alright, if you insist I’ll offer anecdotal evidence to prove how early I started my career as a “budding” ethnobotanist. During a certain high school lunch hour, I approached the gruff assistant principal with a lit roach ensconced between my thumb and forefinger. As a gaggle of giggling wags looked on in amazement and terror, I raised my hand to the corner of my mouth and slightly inhaled, holding the smoke in my lungs while hissing a hello at the evil man in the suit and tie. Like, mission accomplished, dude! Magna cum loutish. And not that my libertine parents would have much cared if they knew, but I also made dual-use of my photographic darkroom downstairs, where the acrid wafts of fixer fluid and burning sacraments led to many a brain-scrambling teenage Bacchanal. Was it all for naught, those tireless hours listening to Coltrane and Hendrix while trying to decipher Ferlinghetti’s poems? I should be the one teaching you! And now that there are more weed shops than liquor stores in my neighborhood, short-term memory loss is but a stoner’s throw away! But hey, did you know that long-term memory kicks into high gear after a couple of sniffs of the psychedelic snuff? Yes, you might lose your keys for a few minutes, but will likely flash back to your seventh birthday party while hunting for them. That’s what I call low-budget time travel. Last thing. Do I have to bring my own, or do you guys include “class materials” with the scholarship money? Not a deal-breaker, just want to be prepared when the party starts – I mean the lab studies. How committed am I to this fabulous opportunity? Why, I’d go into a coma to earn this diploma! Let’s all go into a superior state, if you know what I mean. See you in September!

By Alan Resnick Remember back in the good old days, say 2017, when you could get an actual ticket to a baseball game if you went to the box office or ordered online? And, if you were so well off as to afford partial or full season tickets, they’d arrive in a large envelope in your mailbox in early March. The tickets typically had beautiful pictures of the players on the current year’s roster and came in perforated sheets. You would take your time lovingly separating each ticket and organizing them by month and day. The ticket stubs made great souvenirs, particularly if you attended a World Series or All-Star game, or happened to be so lucky as to be present for a no-hitter or a triple play. I went to a major league baseball game recently for the first time in almost two years. But after all the difficulty I had getting through the gate, I won’t be going to another one any time soon unless someone else gets the tickets. I was scrolling through my Facebook feed a couple of weeks ago when I came across a post from my brother-in-law Marvin. He wasn’t able to use his pair of Detroit Tigers tickets for an upcoming three-game series against the Minnesota Twins, and was offering the seats to whomever was interested. The tickets for Monday’s game had already been claimed, but Tuesday and Wednesday were still available, and the weather for both days was supposed to be in the low 70s, a real treat for so early in April. I called my buddy David and asked if he was interested in going to a game. He said Tuesday worked best for him, so I texted Marvin and asked if the seats had been taken. He said they were mine, and added that he would send me an email with the ticket information. I called David back, told him we were good to go, and he said he would pick me up at noon. I opened an email from Tigers.com stating that Marvin had been forwarded two tickets to me. To access them, however, it would be necessary to open the MLB (Major League Baseball) Ballpark App, log into my account, and the tickets would automatically appear under the “Wallet” tab. I estimated that this would be a ten-minute task at most. My computer and technology skills fall somewhere between Luddite and help desk specialist; I can upload, download, zip, unzip, Zoom, and stream. And I pride myself on being able to read and follow instructions. So this sounded simple and straightforward. And so the ordeal began. I downloaded the app, identified myself as a new user, and was asked to enter my email address and select a password. I did as requested, and received an error message stating that my email address was already in use. How could that be? I had just downloaded the app. I closed the app, re-opened it, and got the same error message. I reset my password, and entered my email address and new password. This got me a new error message indicating that my email address was not found in the system. GRRRR. I monkeyed around with it some more. No tickets. I closed the app, reopened it, entered my email and password, got to my account, and opened my wallet again. Still empty. My frustration and impatience began to build. Should I contact the box office as the app indicated? The game was less than a day away, and I was not at all confident that I’d get a response by game time. I found an 800 number for customer support. I poured a cup of coffee, sat down at my desk, and dialed. I got a recorded message indicating that all support staff were helping other callers and that my call would be answered in the order in which it had been received. I put my phone down, activated the speaker function, and started to clean out my email inbox as some canned music played in an apparent attempt to entertain me while on hold. Every few minutes the music would stop and my hopes would soar. But the pause was merely to repeat the recorded message. After 18 minutes of holding, my call was answered by Norma, a customer support specialist. Norma asked for my first and last name, and after I responded asked: “Can I call you Mr. Alan?” I paused and considered her request, as it seemed a little peculiar. But then I envisioned myself as a fashion designer walking down the runway flanked by two hot supermodels after a boffo showing of my latest fall collection, and responded: “Absolutely.” Norma asked me to describe the problem I was having, and I read her the email that I had received. Norma then said: “So, you are having trouble buying tickets?” I calmly restated that tickets for a game had been forwarded to my account, not purchased, and were not appearing in my wallet as they should. Norma told me to open the app, so I did on my phone. But this resulted in the call being disconnected. No worries, though, as Norma had asked me to provide a call-back number in case of this possibility. I poured another cup of coffee, sat back down, and began to drum my fingers as I awaited Norma’s call. Numbness was creeping into my fingers after 20 minutes of drumming, and I finally admitted to myself that Norma was not going to call back. I would have just tossed in the towel and given up if I were going to the game by myself, but I did not want admit ineptitude or defeat to David. So I redialed the 800 number and got back in the queue. This time the wait was 24 minutes, and I occupied myself by writing a scathing letter of complaint to customer support and penning a negative review of MLB Ballpark on the Apple App Store website (my nom de plume is Stubby Baguettes in case you want to read it). This time I spoke with a customer support person by the name of Jean. Once again, I was asked to provide my name and call back information. Jean asked if she could call me Alan. I had grown quite comfortable with Mr. Alan, but thought it a bit pretentious to request this new appellation. Jean understood the problem I was having, and indicated that she was going to try a few different things to get the tickets to appear in my wallet. After 35 minutes of Jean walking me through various ideas and jumping between my phone, tablet and laptop, presto! The two tickets appeared in my wallet. I thanked Jean, hung up, and calculated the time it took between opening the email with the download instructions and actually getting the tickets to appear in my wallet: an aggravating two hours and twenty seven minutes. As David and I walked from a parking lot toward the stadium, I shared this tale of woe with him. And I said that I was curious as to how the ticket scalpers who stand outside of the ballpark and ask passersby: “Who needs two?” fare in this e-ticket world. They used to have actual tickets in their hand that people could examine and purchase. Perhaps they now compete with one another on the basis of phone size: “Don’t bother with that guy’s puny iPhone 7 screen. Come check out the seats on my Samsung Galaxy S21 that runs on 5G.” Because David had a scheduling conflict, we left the game at 3:20 p.m., two hours and ten minutes after the start time. In other words, it took me seventeen minutes longer to download the tickets than to attend the game. Even worse, only five innings had been completed when we left. Forget about saving ticket stubs. Now all you get is a damn bar code. Not much of a keepsake in my book. Alan Resnick is an industrial psychologist with over 40 years of professional experience. He and his wife are sheltering at home in Farmington Hills, Michigan. He is passing the time by cooking, exercising, catching up on friends’ recommendations of must-see TV and writing.

By Naomi Serviss My friends worry about getting bingo wings I told them to stop playing bingo. I wasn’t joking. Bingo wings don’t bother me. The game does. Just hearing the word bingo triggers a tsunami of anxiety. My mother played religiously in church basement cafeterias. Three times a week. She was a hard-working single parent of five children. She uprooted four of us when she left my father in Rhode Island. I was four years old when we were Greyhound-bussed to a Philadelphia suburb. We moved seven times. I attended two elementary schools and three high schools. The one constant was my mother’s bingo habit. It swept her away from a grueling full-time job and four unhappy kids. She was overwhelmed and underpaid and under-nurtured her children. I pleaded with her to bring me to those magical games. There I had temporary respite from a cruel older brother. The games ran about four hours. Long tables filled the church cafeterias. Scores of middle-aged and old women fished talismans from deep vinyl pocketbooks. Out came trolls, rabbit’s feet and other lucky charms. They sanctified their cards with troll hair and rabbit fur. My mother bought 20 cards and taped them to her spot. Magical thinking sustained her. Despite unpaid electric bills and eviction notices. Workers strolled the aisles with a lucrative side hustle. They sold Lucky 7s, an instant game with a lousy payoff. A church representative called the numbers from a stage. Workers wore aprons and coin changers. They took orders for pizza, soft pretzels and soda. A night circus, the smoky air was thick with prayers and oregano. Winners stood shouting, “Bingo, I’ve got bingo!” Loser disappointment shrouded high hopes. Aproned workers paid on the spot. The jackpot game held high stakes. The weekly prize was $1,000. My mother held her breath waiting for her winning number. One summer evening we drove to an imposing church in an unfamiliar neighborhood. The entrance was down steep concrete steps. The door opened and we were stopped. “How old is she?” asked a surly flock member. “Eleven,” my mother answered. “Children aren’t allowed in. You can’t stay.” Playing bingo was more urgent than my welfare. I was told to wait on the hard outside steps. The game would end by 11 p.m. A window offered a glimpse into the smoky room. The sun set and the sky darkened. I gazed up, hypnotized by the stars. I rose from the cold step and walked up to a dark sidewalk. Down the block and turned the corner. I studied the sky and trees. Three hours passed. I found my way back. I waited another 30 minutes. Fifty years later I am horrified by my mother’s decision and grateful I was unharmed. I count my lucky stars. My favorite church was modest, with a built-in money-making opportunity. Other tagalongs bunched up in front of the pretzel window. The manager let us take orders. We hard-sold 10-cent Cokes and 50-cent soft pretzels. Sometimes I’d get tips. Mostly dimes, but winners tipped more, maybe 75 cents. I made a friend who was a regular. He was blind. Neatly dressed. He took out wooden braille bingo cards from his briefcase. His gentle German Shepherd guide dog rested beneath the table. Most times he ordered pretzels and soda from me. He showed me the braille numbers on his wooden cards. He stroked his dog’s head between games. At the end of the night, we’d collect the empty soda bottles. We brought them upfront, loading them into wooden crates. The manager gave each of us two dollars. Fond memories of bingo have long gone. I can still see an 11-year-old child wandering alone in a strange neighborhood one June night. Booted from a bingo game. Stranded by a mother with high hopes and low expectations. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By Merrill Lynn Hansen Dear Abby, I am 26 years old and engaged to a wonderful 38-year old man who is being falsely accused of having illegal dating relationships. My mother introduced me to him at a Trump fundraiser at Mar-a-Lago and it was love at first sight.  He has assured me that people are lying, and saying bad things about him because he is a Republican congressman and a Trump supporter. My parents and I believe him, but some of my friends think I’m stupid and that I am blinded by love.  What should I do? Ginger Dear Ginger, Picking a life partner is a huge step and you might need a better understanding of the specifics of the "illegal dating" allegations, in order to know if they will have an effect on your relationship.  I'm sure your friends don't think you're stupid, but have a genuine concern for you, as I'm sure your parents do, even though they are Trump supporters and named you "Ginger" (the seventh most popular name for strippers). Abby Dear Abby, I don't want to seem stupid, but the allegations can't be true, because Matt (my fiancée) says he never brought a 17-year-old girl across state lines for sex, and that he has never paid prostitutes. Matt says the nude photos he's accused of having shown other people on the floor of the Congress were actually very tasteful,  and that the girlfriend who sent him a nude photo of herself with a hula hoop had turned 18 six months earlier,  and was not 17. Ginger Dear Ginger, One of the forces that helps a couple to bond is their ability to communicate.  Talking about your fiancée’s past relationships, and how you react to what he says, can be very healthy and help you learn something about yourself.   It can also give you better insight into how he evolved into the man he is today. Abby Dear Abby, Matt says that in his single days, he provided for women he dated, and paid for flights, hotel rooms and dinners because he was a very generous partner in those relationships.  Matt says that someone is trying to make his generosity look criminal when it is not.  I don't want to sound stupid, but  I agree with him. During the past several months, I have been Matt's "travel buddy,” and he has always been generous to a fault. Ginger Dear Ginger, You should consider whether you are the oldest travel buddy Matt has ever had.  It sounds as if he is being accused of sex trafficking, which is very serious, and can result in eventual incarceration. An important part of having a close and loving relationship is being together.  You need to look ahead to see whether the two of you might be living apart during the first 30 years of your marriage. Abby Dear Abby, I don't want to seem stupid, but I believe Matt when he says that a former Air Force intelligence officer is trying to extort money from his father and that his personal life is being smeared so I will break off our engagement. I overheard him tell his attorney that where he is going to be living in the next 30 years depends upon what his friend Joel Greenberg says.  I think Joel must be a real-estate agent. Ginger Dear Ginger, In order for your relationship with Matt to work, you have to pay attention to any red flags that pop up.  If the media reports that Matt's previous girlfriends went to their senior proms the night before they met him, that's a red flag. When the two of you discuss how much money your wedding will cost, and he mentions setting aside some money for bail, that is a red flag. There may not always be a simple, telltale sign that Matt is being  dishonest with you,  but if his head keeps quickly moving to different positions, when he repeatedly says he's innocent, and that he never asked Trump for a preemptive pardon,  your gut instincts should tell you that something is wrong. Abby Dear Abby, Matt says he is a champion of women, and that is why he hired several young women who became an essential part of his time in Congress. But you are right about there being a red flag, and I have noticed it.  Matt wants an Elvis impersonator at our wedding, and I'm worried that people will think I'm stupid if I agree to that.  What should I do? Ginger Dear Ginger, You are stupid! Abby Merrill Lynn Hansen is a legal assistant, living in West Bloomfield, Michigan. She describes herself as a frustrated writer, who wishes she could be Nora Ephron (when she was alive), if only for a day. She is a news-, political- and FB-junkie, a combination that requires a constant reminder that she needs to take deep cleansing breaths when responding to people who don't agree with her.

By Laurence Lerman / New York City Prologue When The Insider’s editor asked me to put together a comprehensive bio to go along with my Academy Awards cover story, she urged me to “write long.” Considering this week’s subject matter and the understanding that most people would have an arguable opinion on it, before offering up my opinion, I figured that it wouldn't hurt for me to go back to the beginning. I saw Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest when I was 13 years old and that’s all it took. Cary Grant fleeing a crop duster, cliffhanging on Mount Rushmore and spending the night in a Pullman coach with Hitchcock blonde Eva Marie Saint—what’s not to like? “Cary Grant gets into a lot of trouble but he still looks sharp,” I scribbled as part of a written review, my first official piece of film journalism, read only by my parents (with whom I had watched the film on WPIX the night before), and perhaps my Aunt Cynthia, who really dug Hitchcock. An auspicious beginning for my career in, around and about the film industry. Even though I had written movie reviews for my college weekly and Lehigh Valley’s Morning Call newspaper during my senior year, I didn’t do that much writing at my first job at MGM/UA, where I worked in sales for the non-theatrical department, a not-so-fancy way of describing the division that handled film rentals to colleges, libraries, film clubs and likewise organizations. (I did, however, get to pen some pitch lines for the company’s frequent mailers--“Get Bonded” was one of my gems for a 007 catalogue promotion.) It was while I was working for the lauded New York-based independent studio Kino International, where I helped launch the home entertainment division, that I took a deeper dive into film journalism beyond simply movie reviews. The creation of pressbooks, production notes and VHS box copy for Kino’s line of new foreign language imports, older classics and independent features (Guy Maddin’s Tales from the Gimli Hospital and Julie Dash’s Daughter of the Dust were biggies) was a particularly satisfying part of my day-to-day. I especially like my extended interviews with filmmakers, communicating their knowledge and experience of their craft to cinephiles who wanted to know all about it. Those responsibilities grew when I became a Senior Editor at Video Business Magazine, a Variety sister publication and the leading trade weekly for the home entertainment industry. For some 15 years, I edited a weekly review and interview column on the newest releases, overseeing a group of stringers and deciding what and who warranted everyone’s attention each week. At approximately ten reviews per week, or 500 a year (or 7,500 over 15 years!), along with regular interviews, there was never any difficulty in finding films to write about (though, admittedly, there weren’t nearly as many then as there are today). As for the interviews, I’ve conducted dozens of them with filmmakers over the past two decades, among them Martin Scorsese, Bernardo Bertolucci, Clint Eastwood, Spike Lee, Amy Heckerling, Walter Hill, Quentin Tarantino, Werner Herzog, James Cameron, Oliver Stone, Peter Bogdanovich, John Landis, Katherine Bigelow, Paul Mazursky, Adrian Lyne, Dario Argento, Abel Ferrara and Jean-Jacques Beineix. I’ve sat down with even more actors over that time—hundreds, I’d say—but overall, they didn’t make the impression on me that the filmmakers did. Understand that I don’t have any complaints about chatting with the likes of Meryl Streep (for One True Thing) or Ethan Hawke (The Hottest State) or Rosario Dawson (Zookeeper) or Ted Danson (TV’s Damages). And I’ll admit I loved being on the receiving end of a sexy smile from actresses like Reese Witherspoon (How Do You Know) and Churchill’s Miranda Richardson (oh, that was a good one!). But I’ve always received less-rehearsed answers, snappier repartee and ultimately better interviews with the filmmakers themselves. Tales of on-set hijinks and fan encounters and the like from actors are great for talk show segments and gossip mags and YouTube grabs, but I’d rather hear John Landis talking about how an L.A. theater chain owner didn’t want The Blues Brothers playing in his theaters because “it would attract too many Black people,” or James Cameron admitting he was fearful that he would “forever be helming the juggernaut that is Titanic” or Clint Eastwood reminding me that the Sturges he learned the most from was John, not Preston. Herzog praising musicians, Bertolucci admitting to film “fetishism,” Argento kvetching about his films’ poor theatrical exposure in New York, Stone suggesting we “smoke a lot of joints” before getting down to the nitty-gritty of Natural Born Killers...many of these conversations–some unexpectedly formal and others comfortably casual, but nearly all informative–have stuck with me for years. Writing pressbooks and production notes for new films and even more reissued classics, dozens of them, continues for me to this day for such companies as Sony, Music Box Films, MPI Entertainment, Cohen Media and Sterling Productions. And as films continue to be issued in an assortment of updated configurations, from DVD to Blu-ray to 4K Ultra HD and beyond, my work reintroduces me to such greats as Jacques Rivette’s La Belle Noiseuse, Philippe de Broca’s King of Hearts, Claude Berri’s The Two of Us, the early Merchant Ivory productions Shakespeare Walla, Maurice and Heat and Dust and many others. The mechanics of what I do have changed over the past year, particularly for the new films. Gone are the days of watching films at pre-release gatherings and in screening rooms or at press events in Jamaica (One Love: The Bob Marley All-Star Tribute), London (Cats the Musical), Puerto Rico (2 Fast 2 Furious), San Francisco’s Industrial Light & Magic facility (Van Helsing—remember that one?) or even while fly fishing in Manchester, Vermont (A River Runs Through It). Today, it’s all about screening links sent directly to me via email. Junkets have also turned virtual, with accompanying face-to-face interviews conducted via Skype or Zoom. As the editor-in-chief of DiscDish (www.discdish.com), the popular Blu-ray, DVD and film website, and the cofounder, co-host and curator of FilmShul (www.filmshul.com), an interactive online series about Hollywood and the Jewish American experience (The Heartbreak Kid, anyone?), I’ve been working from home for more than a decade, so getting it all done without leaving my home office remains business as usual for me. That said, I dearly miss physical press events and all the pleasantness, immediacy and plain old human interaction that go along with them. (I even sort of miss the mini-spectacle of a half-dozen iPad-toting publicists frantically running around on the brink of some kind of crisis.) But even as the ways that films are distributed and the manner in which we watch them continue to change(more on that below), for the better and for the worse, more than ever, the movies keep on coming, along with their makers who are still eager to talk about them. The 2021 Academy Awards Predicting the victors in the annual Oscar race remains one of America’s favorite parlor games, a legacy that will continue unabated with the broadcast of the 93rd Academy Awards this Sunday, April 25. The 2020 awards were unaffected by the coronavirus, the show being mounted in early February prior to the national shutdown. But the pandemic has since taken its toll on the Oscars, with this year's broadcast marking the longest ever run-up to an Academy Awards ceremony—it will be 13 months and two weeks since the statuettes were presented last year. This year’s Oscars telecast is shaping up to be the least traditional one we may ever see. The show will be based not at the Awards’ usual Dolby Theatre, but rather at L.A.s gorgeous and grand Union Station, with the nominees and presenters mingling outside of the Art Deco-flavored terminal and rotating in and out of the venue over the course of the broadcast. The traditional red carpet and guest list will be significantly downsized, and though the majority of nominees are expected to attend the ceremony in person, there will be major media hubs in London and Paris allowing those in Europe who are unable to travel due to restrictions to be on the show. Their “appearances” will be broadcast via top-of-the-line satellite hookups rather than Zoom, which has been utilized regularly in other award shows over the past year with twitchy results. The delayed live ceremony takes place just a couple of weeks after California opened up vaccinations to everyone over the age of 16. It’s being assembled with an eye on an ever-changing list of production requirements and safety protocols, making it akin to putting together a moving jigsaw puzzle with a central image that won’t be clear until it’s finished. “It’s not going to be like anything that's been done before," said filmmaker Steve Soderbergh, one of the show’s co-producers (and the director of Contagion, the 2011 Hollywood film that’s most identified with the pandemic) at a virtual press conference on April 16. “This is the working definition of trying to build an airplane while it’s in the air.” This year's show is the topper to a year that saw a shutdown of the nation’s movie theaters last March, the slow regional reopening of a number of them six months later, up to last month's committed move to opening the majority of theaters across the country. Of course, this comes with audience size restrictions and mask mandates in place as safety requirements. Studios big and small and the people who work for them have suffered through consolidations, layoffs and firings this past year (alongside most of the nation’s media industries), but that hasn’t affected their output as much as you might think, particularly in terms of eligibility for the Oscars. According to Variety, in February, the Academy released a list of 366 feature films from 2020 in contention, up from the 344 submitted in 2019 and 347 in 2018. In fact, 2020 marks the highest total of films submitted for consideration since the 374 entries for the 1970 awards. Theaters played a very small part in this year’s rollout of films. In the year of a global pandemic and ensuing quarantine, streaming movies became the norm. with a handful of 2020's most Oscar-nominated films premiering on streaming services, All were seen—and can still be seen—on streaming services, a format that has quickly been embraced by consumers and, a little more reluctantly, the film industry. What the industry does love about the subscription-based business model of streamers is the confusion it creates for the press and public when they try to translate it into dollars, figures that Hollywood likes to fudge on its own. So here we are on the eve of the 93rd Academy Awards, ready to make some predictions on the outstanding work that streamed before us during the year of a pandemic, a quarantine, a rash of political protests including the Black Lives Matter campaign, and a violent insurrection in our nation’s Capitol. And then there are the Academy’s changing eligibility rules and the growing influence of the #MeToo and diversity movements on audiences who are more susceptible than ever to the media’s trumpeting of its own perceptions. Take it all away and the movies remain, and there were a lot of great ones in 2020, as there are every year. (I’ve always thought the proclamation that “such-and-such year was a horrible one for movies,” made by a segment of viewers every year, was ridiculous. There are hundreds of movies out there—find some good ones.) I’m game to play this year, and this is what I’m thinking in terms of the Awards' Big Six and how I think the diversifying membership of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will approach them. Picks & Predictions Best Picture The Father Judas and the Black Messiah Mank Minari Nomadland Promising Young Woman Sound of Metal The Trial of the Chicago 7 What would I like to win: Mank What will win: Nomadland Films about Hollywood are always hit or miss. The movies in that thriving sub-genre which tend to soar are the ones whose narratives and insights are abetted by a richness of style and superlative production values. That’s what distinguishes such films as Sunset Boulevard, Sullivan’s Travels, Singin’ in the Rain, S.O.B., The Player, Ed Wood, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood from the likes of Hooper and Sunset. In its celebration of Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane and the wacky town that birthed it, Mank embodies just that kind of winning formula—knowing, clever, affectionate and brimming with the kind of design and sophistication that one associates with director David Fincher. But 2021 will be the year of national self-reflection and humility and diversity and that equals Chloe Zhao’s Nomadland, an outstanding film whose uniquely downplayed technique perfectly mirrors its message. Directing Thomas Vinterberg, Another Round David Fincher, Mank Lee Isaac Chung, Minari Chloe Zhao, Nomadland Emerald Fennell, Promising Young Woman Who would I like to win: David Fincher Who will win: Chloe Zhao Fincher, a great American filmmaker—a great Hollywood filmmaker—established himself in the business in the early Eighties directing commercials and music videos (“Freedom 90” and “Vogue” are two of his dozens) before helming what was to be his first and least successful film, 1992’s underappreciated Alien 3. His filmmaking deftness and subsequent work have only grown stronger since, yielding two of the finest films of the past 15 years, Zodiac and The Social Network. That those films didn’t receive Academy recognition is disappointing, as is the feeling that the same fate awaits Mank and his sterling direction in 2021. It is the year of Chloe Zhao and her third feature, Nomadland, a timely and poetic portrait of a lesser-seen slice of America. Actor in a Leading Role Riz Ahmed, Sound of Metal Chadwick Boseman, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom Anthony Hopkins, The Father Gary Oldman, Mank Steven Yeun, Minari Who would I like to win: Riz Ahmed Who will win: Chadwick Boseman It’s been 13 years since Heath Ledger’s posthumous Supporting Actor win for his demented take on the Joker in The Dark Knight, and many more years since a deceased Peter Finch picked up Lead Actor honors for 1976’s Network. That said, the late Boseman wins this one hands-down. His sad passing came following a decade of outstanding work, including the biographical pics 42, Get on Up and Marshall and then topped by Black Panther, which basks in the rarefied air enjoyed by the highest grossing films of all time. By all accounts, Boseman was a very nice, very well-liked guy and, yes, he delivers a helluva performance as the hungry, troubled trumpeter Levee Green in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. As for the rest of the field, Hopkins and Oldman each have brought home the gold previously, and though he’s fine, Steve Yeun's restrained performance in the excellent Minari probably didn't resonate enough with voters. That leaves Riz Ahmed in Sound of Metal. Ahmed’s performance as a hardcore drummer who suddenly loses his hearing is fresh, unpredictable, modulated and unexpectedly poignant, but it’s not going to happen this year. Actress in a Leading Role Viola Davis, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom Andra Day, United States vs. Billie Holiday Vanessa Kirby, Pieces of a Woman Frances McDormand, Nomadland Carey Mulligan, Promising Young Woman Who would I like to win: Viola Davis Who will win: Carey Mulligan A tricky one to call, but the talented Carey Mulligan, who’s been working the media circuit fiercely in support of the film (which she exec produced) and her Award chances, is probably going pull this one out. That the darkly comic thriller Promising Young Woman is as effective a statement on the #MeToo movement as we’ve yet seen in the movies doesn’t hurt, either. Look for Promising’s writer/director Emerald Fennel, to snag a Best Original Screenplay award, as well. But also keep in mind that Davis garnered Supporting Actress honors back in 2017 for Fences and now has a chance to take it to the next level in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, another August Wilson adaptation, alongside costar Boseman. Leading Actor and Actress awards going to performers in the same movie doesn’t happen that frequently—the most recent were Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt for 1997’s As Good as It Gets and, before that, Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster for The Silence of the Lambs in 1991. A win for the three-time Lead Actor nominee Davis, alongside with Boseman, could be the ticket in these diversity-challenged times where thoughts of the Black Lives Matter movement have also become part of the mix. Finally, don’t underestimate the quiet groundswell of support beneath Nomadland’s Frances McDormand, a victory for whom would put her in the Three Timers’ club alongside Ingrid Bergman and Meryl Streep (who themselves are one Oscar away from Queen Katherine Hepburn and her four statuettes). Actress in a Supporting Role Maria Bakalova, Borat Subsequent Moviefilm Glenn Close, Hillbilly Elegy Olivia Colman, The Father Amanda Seyfried, Mank Yuh-Jung Youn, Minari Who would I like to win: Amanda Seyfried Who will win: Yuh-Jung Youn Amanda Seyfried has been working since her soap opera beginnings as a teenager, followed by a subsequent decade portraying dewy ingenues in Dear John, Letters to Juliet and the Mamma Mia! films, sprinkled with a few substantially more eyebrow-raising selections in recent years. (Remember Lovelace?) But the busy actress really raised her game and was so right-on with her portrayal of Mank’s Marion Davies—the wise-cracking, Brooklyn-born actress who herself played comical ingenues in the movies even as she openly lived as William Randolph Hearst’s mistress. Plus, I loved her reaction to Gary Oldman's Herman “Mank” Mankiewicz's greeting of “Miss Davies, your Flatbush is showing.” Young Maria Bakalova is bright and out-there and shameless in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm, but hers is a kind of novelty gig and Academy voters might be thinking the same. But Minari’s Yuh-Jung Youn is a veteran Korean actress whose career in film and television spans five decades in her home country. Hers is a stand-out character in a small ensemble movie that isn’t on track to snag many awards (though it was nominated for six and fits the bill as a progressive, diversity-embracing title) so she’ll serve as ambassador for the whole film. And Oscar loves a hard-working performer with a nice backstory. And speaking of acting veterans, this year marks Glenn Close’s fourth nomination as a Supporting Actress—matching her four nods as a Lead Actress. Fine as she is, as always, I’d like to see her long-awaited first Oscar victory be for a less, er glaring role than her cranky Southern matriarch in Hillbilly Elegy. Maybe the upcoming Sunset Boulevard musical adaptation in a couple of years? Actor in a Supporting Role Sacha Baron Cohen, The Trial of the Chicago 7 Daniel Kaluuya, Judas and the Black Messiah Leslie Odom, Jr., One Night in Miami Paul Raci, Sound of Metal LaKeith Stanfield, Judas and the Black Messiah Who would I like to win: Sacha Baron Cohen Who will win: Sacha Baron Cohen I’m going to apply a mix of usual Oscar analytics on this one. Daniel Kaluuya and LaKeith Stanfield of Judas and the Black Messiah will split the vote and cancel each other out, with Boseman and possibly Davis of Ma Rainey filling any diversity obligations the Academy might be feeling. Ditto for One Night in Miami’s Odom, Jr., whose take on Sam Cooke was only one cog in an ensemble piece of four indispensable roles. And as respectable as Raci was in Sound of Metal, the movie’s trump card is Riz Ahmed, who appears in practically every scene. That leaves Sacha Baron Cohen, whose nomination is one of six received by The Trial of the Chicago 7. Like my projected Supporting Actress winner Yuh-Jung Youn, Cohen is poised to be Chicago 7’s envoy, bringing home what could be one of the film’s few major awards. Cohen’s Abbie Hoffman is appropriately complex and frenzied and the freshness of that accomplishment—how are you at juggling Aaron Sorkin dialogue?—coupled with the lasting memory of his other notable work over the past two decades will be rewarded with Oscar attention this year. So let me know what YOU are thinking about this year’s awards and my picks. Am I on it or am I nuts? It’s not a fun game unless I hear from you, so bring it on! And that means you too, Gwen, or else I’ll make you watch Zoey Deutch in Zombieland: Double Tap––my favorite performance of last year––for the ninth time.