It's what I call fame through association, and it's exactly what I want.
This is why I'm gregarious with every new person I meet, try to become best friends with everybody I form a bond with, and never turn down an opportunity to hang out with anyone who offers.
For the longest time, I had no interest in reading.
I swear it started in high school, when novels like "The Grapes of Wrath," "Walden Pond" and "The Old Man and the Sea" sent me into temporary comas. I think my experience proves that just because a book is a "classic" doesn't mean kids in
I'm ignorant about many things, but I hide it well by talking more and louder. But one thing even that can't hide is my lack of vocabulary.
As I've written before, the so-called advice I received to overcome this challenge in high school, like don't bother reading ("look up every word you don't know in
I think the best advice I can give anyone about stocks is "buy what you understand."
This mnemonic is easily confused with its deceptive cousin "Buy what you know." People--and I used to be one of them--are fond of buying stocks of companies that they "know," usually from using the company's products but sometimes from something
I recently finished reading "The Smartest Guys in the Room," an amazing account of the characters who were complicit in the rise and fall of Enron. It is a page turner; I couldn't put it down.
The authors, Bethany McLean and Peter Elkind, tell a story of how exaggeration, manipulation and obsession with the numbers, particularly
A two and a half week absence from my blog has left me with mixed feelings: the gratification in knowing people follow my blog but resignation in knowing they're only interested in my politics. For those who kindly encouraged me to break my silence as Ted Kennedy died and Japan went through an Obama-esque "change,"
For better or for worse, I seem to leave a distinct impression on people, although I can't tell whether the impression I leave is good or bad. One week into my foray into law school at the particularly liberal Rutgers of Newark, people started coming up to me and saying, "So you're the new conservative,
I was never a fan of reading "classic" books, either in highs school or in college. This may come as a shock to all of you who know how highly I regard a liberal arts education, but I continue to prefer reading John Grisham to any classic, whether from the 18th century or the 20th.
I started getting a subscription to Sports Illustrated right after the Patriots won its first Super Bowl. Ever since then, I've been dutifully paying the annual $100 or so annual subscription fee, but truth be told, I never similarly dutifully read the magazine. The darn thing kept on coming every week, some issues (notably the