Yes, there are a couple of dozen original Parrish paintings in the collection here, as well as many other fabulous paintings... by Norman Rockwell, Mary Cassatt, Carl Larsson, Wyeth and others. It's wonderful to be in such an artistic environment every day!
Here's an amusing article from today's SF Chronicle:
Houston ---- When heat quivers over rush hour at one of the busiest intersections in town, there isn't much for a weary driver to do but peruse the jumble of billboards. "Order Kalamari, Get a Pappa's T-Shirt Free," suggests Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen, a Cajun fish house.
Next door, Khyber North Indian Grill shoots back: "Squid Pro Quo." This is the story of an Indian immigrant with an insurgent spirit and a bottomless appetite for wordplay who found his soapbox, canvas and stage in the form of a roadside marquee. But his torrent of daily puns is something of a tragicomedy in plastic, for Mickey Kapoor has spent nearly a decade trying to needle a rise out of his stoic neighbor, to no avail. "Every Tuesday's Fat Tuesday!" the seafood house enthuses. "Praise the Lard!" Khyber smirks.
Theirs is a quintessential dispute in this city of patchwork ethnicity, this thriving immigration hub that knows no zoning laws. "What am I supposed to do, put a price up there? It's just so dull," Kapoor said. "Instead, I go for the moral low ground." The man who calls himself the "Marquee de Sade" found his calling eight years ago, when he sank wearily into the park bench outside his new Indian restaurant.
It's a moment Kapoor now refers to as "one little cosmic accident." His eye fell on the sign next door. "Go Rockets!" he read-and snorted to himself. How dull, he thought. How banal. Was that any way to root for the home basketball team? Obviously, his new environs needed a creative infusion. And so he posted a retort: "And Please Come Back!"
That first mischievous shot started a steely-and one-sided-war. Day after day, for eight sarcastic years, each manager at the seafood house has played the straight man to Kapoor's relentless clowning. Pappadeaux is Felix Unger to Oscar Madison, George Burns to Gracie Allen, Dan Rowan to Dick Martin. "Hiring Today 3-5," Pappadeaux announced one morning. "My You Do Start Them Young," Khyber cooed. Pappadeaux has borne the ribbing with the deliberate oblivion of a kid who has convinced himself that the bullies will get bored and leave him alone -- if only he ignores their jeers.
When it came time for his citizenship interview, Kapoor almost talked himself out of the United States. He couldn't resist when the somber man across the table asked, "Do you believe in the overthrow of the U.S. government by force or subversion?" "I'll take subversion," Kapoor replied.
Copyright 2002 SF Chronicle
Here's an amusing article from today's SF Chronicle:
Houston ---- When heat quivers over rush hour at one of the busiest intersections in town, there isn't much for a weary driver to do but peruse the jumble of billboards. "Order Kalamari, Get a Pappa's T-Shirt Free," suggests Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen, a Cajun fish house.
Next door, Khyber North Indian Grill shoots back: "Squid Pro Quo." This is the story of an Indian immigrant with an insurgent spirit and a bottomless appetite for wordplay who found his soapbox, canvas and stage in the form of a roadside marquee. But his torrent of daily puns is something of a tragicomedy in plastic, for Mickey Kapoor has spent nearly a decade trying to needle a rise out of his stoic neighbor, to no avail. "Every Tuesday's Fat Tuesday!" the seafood house enthuses. "Praise the Lard!" Khyber smirks.
Theirs is a quintessential dispute in this city of patchwork ethnicity, this thriving immigration hub that knows no zoning laws. "What am I supposed to do, put a price up there? It's just so dull," Kapoor said. "Instead, I go for the moral low ground." The man who calls himself the "Marquee de Sade" found his calling eight years ago, when he sank wearily into the park bench outside his new Indian restaurant.
It's a moment Kapoor now refers to as "one little cosmic accident." His eye fell on the sign next door. "Go Rockets!" he read-and snorted to himself. How dull, he thought. How banal. Was that any way to root for the home basketball team? Obviously, his new environs needed a creative infusion. And so he posted a retort: "And Please Come Back!"
That first mischievous shot started a steely-and one-sided-war. Day after day, for eight sarcastic years, each manager at the seafood house has played the straight man to Kapoor's relentless clowning. Pappadeaux is Felix Unger to Oscar Madison, George Burns to Gracie Allen, Dan Rowan to Dick Martin. "Hiring Today 3-5," Pappadeaux announced one morning. "My You Do Start Them Young," Khyber cooed. Pappadeaux has borne the ribbing with the deliberate oblivion of a kid who has convinced himself that the bullies will get bored and leave him alone -- if only he ignores their jeers.
When it came time for his citizenship interview, Kapoor almost talked himself out of the United States. He couldn't resist when the somber man across the table asked, "Do you believe in the overthrow of the U.S. government by force or subversion?" "I'll take subversion," Kapoor replied.
Copyright 2002 SF Chronicle
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