We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Our Recent Essays Behind the Front Page
Tuesday, November 24. 2015
Re-posted from past Thanksgiving seasons -
We did one turkey in the oven, stuffed with cornbread stuffing, and the other one on the grill with occasional doses of soaked apple wood chunks from my neighbor's tree, and with white wine in the steam water. Both birds were brined 24 hrs before cooking, and each around 18 lbs. but I feel that's a waste of time.
We had plenty of family and friends to eat it all up.
I think people preferred the grilled (no stuffing in the grilled bird). It was my first time trying grilled turkey. Beginner's luck: It came out perfectly: moist, with a pleasant hint of smokiness. It took around 3 1/2 hrs to cook. Keeping the temp at near 325 involved carefully titrating the number of briquettes and fruitwood chunks to keep the heat low, but to not let the fire go out. Basted it with veg. oil and honey. Just for fun, I use my heavy-duty poultry injector to squirt sherry or cider into the meat. Why not? I don't buy butterball turkeys.
Nice grill, eh? This cast-iron thing weights 500 lbs. I had to assemble the darn thing off a truck, and got most of it right. Except for the wheels, which fell off. Now it takes a few pall-bearers to move it.
This is halfway:
The puppy seemed equally happy with scraps from the grilled and from the oven-roasted turkey.
Milo Yiannopoulos. He is quick and amusing:
A new book by a shrink friend (and his daughter): F*ck Feelings: One Shrink's Practical Advice for Managing All Life's Impossible Problems
In Las Palmas on Gran Canaria (5th largest city of Spain despite being on Canary Islands) we hired a cab for the day to take us to all the places Mrs. BD had mapped out. We agreed to a price of $80 (I call Euros "dollars" for the fun of it) for as long as we wanted him - all day. After driving us around for about 6 hours or so, at 3 pm, we managed to indicate to him that we wanted to stroll around the old city and find some "authentico" late lunch (guy spoke Spanish only - not a single word of English). We agreed he would pick us up at 5, 2 hours later, in front of the old basilica. That was five fingers.
Then he drove off without asking for a penny. We explored the old city, checked out Columbus' house there, grabbed some delicious grilled fish and vegetables and a beer and waited for him to return to the large ancient square where they were blasting ridiculous Spanish versions of American Oldies - like They're Coming to Take You Away, HaHa and Camptown Races. Doo-dah, doo-dah. Hilarious.
At 5 on the dot, he pulled up to drive us back to the seaport. I gave him an excessive $20 tip to reward his trusting nature.
Agriculture Linked to DNA Changes in Ancient Europe
Watch the EcoLog 590 work
University bans yoga for promoting Western colonialism
Columbia Student in Anguish Because She Has to Read Books by White People
Hysterical Yalies protest a free-speech panel.
Alan Dershowitz told The Daily Signal in a phone interview. “After 50 years of teaching at Harvard, I have never met a less courageous group of people than tenured faculty.”
Why college protestors are telling the media to stay away
Mead: The NYT editorial board has come as close as it can to the devastating realization that blue model governance is breaking down.:
McArdle: It’s not Obamacare’s fault that it didn’t manage to do the impossible: provide cheap, nearly comprehensive health-care coverage without
Rotten Elites Give a Bad Name to Elitism
Clinton campaign promotes ´Bill and Hillary´s love story´
State Department Issues Worldwide Travel Alert "Due To Increased Terrorist Threats"
Scottish Town Reworks Welcome Sign for ISIS: “You Tw@ts Can F*ck Off”
Why Does the Left Continue to Insist that Islamic Terrorism Has Nothing to Do with Islam?
Dick Morris: Dems 'Committing Suicide' on ISIS, Refugees
Brussels is in some ways a satire of the European project
It’s a sad day when the President of the United States makes a French socialist leader sound like George S. Patton.
Why did America lose the Vietnam War?
Monday, November 23. 2015
For the past two weeks, Maggie's readers have been treated to the morning links and morning reflections of Roger de Hauteville. Roger was pinch hitting for me while I was sailing the ocean blue.
I am grateful to him for doing that, and for approaching the job with daily dedication and with his gifts on full display. If I owned the Wall St. Journal, I would hire him to replace Taranto. Taranto has fine wit but more cleverness than wisdom, I feel, in his observations of the passing scene. Plus Taranto needs staff. Sheesh.
I'll tell you a little bit about Roger. Roger ll was of course the first King of Sicily - the Viking who conquered Sicily from the Moslems but who wisely kept most of the Moslem viziers and bureaucrats in place because of their skills and education. Roger ll did another fine thing: he grandfathered Frederick ll, King of Sicily, later Holy Roman Emperor, a remarkable man who is often considered the first "true European".
So thanks again, Roger. And, as always, feel free to contribute at will because you are a master of this medium and I will never be one. I am a plodder.
Photo is of the big schooner (5 masts, 5 Marconi rigs and 1 jib) that we've been traveling on in the eastern Atlantic. Can make 12.5 knots under those huge sails. When I get organized, I'll do my usual travel posts with pics, food, etc., but what I will get around to first will be a few posts about some of the people we met. Corny as it sounds, if you travel enough it's the experiences and the people that make an impression. New foods are somewhat fun, but sights are just pictures, old churches and buildings are a dime a dozen and can be seen on the internets and in books, and history can be read in books at home by the fire. I can say, now, that hanging out in the souk and in the medina in Marrakesh for a few hours is something worth experiencing once. Just once is enough, for me, tho. I am all souked out and there is nothing I wish to buy anyway.
Well, another Monday has rolled around. Time to leave the old rack and earn the spondulac. Exit your cribs to get the dibs. Act the noble savage to get the happy cabbage. Brave the debris to get the dough-re-mi. Feel the balm of the oil of palm. I hope by close of business that you pile the oof up to the roof.
Alarming News: Just a bunch of links to writing done elsewhere
Well, you see what I mean. I can assure you that the percentage of live blogs to festering pixel corpses doesn't improve as you continue down the blogroll. I guess it's true what Sir Walter Scott said about blogging:
I'm not picking on Ace, of course. He doesn't have time to read his blog. If he's like most bloggers, he leaves his blogroll as it was eight years ago, as a kind of shrine to his friends, many of whom are his commenters, I'm sure.
Obama is barely smart enough to order the most expensive thing on the menu at a Sizzler, and the press corps thinks he's a polymath.
If this works better than the current eco-friendly method, which is having illegal aliens crapping on the weeds, then Chipotle and I are all for it.
Living in a cave is the alternative, huh? You could, you know, shut the goddamned thing off.
I say the old ways are the best ways, so I'm going to stick with burning peat in a brazier in the middle of my great hall, thanks.
In order to test my personal reaction to ingesting a cookie, a banana, and seven scotch and sodas, you're going to have to give me a banana and a cookie.
Help, I'm a Chinese businessman being held in a Kenyan jail, and I'll transfer one million dollars to your account if you'll just pay my bail. Please enter your bank account information...
After reading the article, I realize I have no idea how anything works anymore, but neither does anyone else, so I don't feel bad.
Why has Italian cinema lost its appeal? Sophia Loren's bustline finally dipped below the horizon. It's really that simple. And stop calling her abroad.
The author talks in wonderment when the salesman asks about the health of a customer's family members before trying to sell them things. The concept of using good manners, or any manners at all, doesn't even register as "a thing" with the author. Honestly, iPhones have utterly destroyed an entire generation of human beings.
I've raised chickens. Chicken breast grown in a petri dish will be 10 percent smarter than any chicken I've ever met.
OK, everybody, time to get after that spondulac!
Sunday, November 22. 2015
In Florence, the Antico Setificio Fiorentino since 1786. Their warp technology invented by Leonardo. Two cool videos.
Posted by The Barrister in The Culture, "Culture," Pop Culture and Recreation at 14:58 | Comments (2) | Trackbacks (0)
Intellectuals called him "a people-pleasing boor." In his bicentennial year, the long-overshadowed novelist finally gets his due.
Overshadowed by Dickens, of course, who was a consummate people-pleaser. Was, and is.
Posted by The Barrister in The Culture, "Culture," Pop Culture and Recreation at 13:25 | Comment (1) | Trackbacks (0)
Well, it's Sunday. That means Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes in the morning, and Sunday-go-to-hell clothes in the afternoon. You know, for puttering around the house.
Let's borderline blaspheme and ask, WWJAD? (What would Joan of Arc do?) I'm no expert, and think it presumptuous to speak for her, but I have an inkling whatever she'd do, she'd do it to Frankie, not the reporters, and it would leave a mark.
Speaking of Orleans, WWJAD? It's not for me to say, but I imagine she would kneel down and tenderly kiss that brave man on his furrowed brow, nurse his wounds, and then go off to see if it was possible to fit the second man into a tuna can.
WWJAD? I am a sinner, not a saint, so don't trust me, but I figure she would commend that nurse for showing simple Christian charity to all. Then if the bomber recovered from his wounds, she'd give him a 12" haircut.
WWJAD? This one is easier. She would weep, as did I.
WWJAD? She'd run next to him, clanking all the way. Then they'd stop five yards shy of the finish line and pray for the other runners to catch up.
WWJAD? Mention she needed fewer people to save France.
WWJAD? Trick question. She's not an Apple person. That was William Tell. Joan wore armor, so I imagine she was more of a Chrome user.
WWJAD? She'd probably remind you to render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's. Then she'd point out that Caesar has been dead for two thousand years, and split the dough with you.
Well, I hope you all have a nice Sunday, and if you think it might be fun or enlightening, you can wonder WWJAD about everything in your life today. I know for a dead cert she wouldn't take the points and bet on the Cleveland Rams. Obvious Saints fan.
Saturday, November 21. 2015
Certainly real life is tragic in many ways, real life is full of worries, joy is fleeting, no promised rose garden, etc etc.
There is no "right to happiness."
I may be blessed in that, despite all of my own inner concerns and real life challenges and worries, I often find myself humming contentedly or smiling for no reason. Sometimes I think that might come from a life in Christ, and sometimes I think it's just me. I was a depressed, unmoored adolescent.
The pursuit of happiness is big business. The Happiness Industry: How the Government and Big Business Sold Us Well-Being The transcript of the podcast is there.
It's a shame that happiness can't be purchased but, as they say in the program, "It's an inside job."
It's common for humans to personalize things that don't have anything to do with us in particular. For instance, many people looked at today's news and espied a massacre at the Radisson Hotel in Mali. It was perpetrated by Al Qaeda, or Alcoa, or Al Kaline, or Boko Loko, or Procul Harem, or whatever those pesky Mohammedans are printing on their bowling shirts these days. Some observers immediately wondered what it meant to them.
Be honest. It's possible your first reaction to seeing the mayhem in Mali was, "I've been in worse Radissons than that! That one in Naperville didn't even have USA Todays in the lobby, and I couldn't tell the difference between the continental breakfast and the wet nap." That's hardly commendable, but it's understandable. It's no less sensible than rending your garments over it before changing the channel to The True Game of Downton Boardwalk Thrones. Bad things happen all day, every day. You're not the king of the world, as far as I know.
Tragedy is when I stub my toe; comedy is when you fall into an open manhole and die. It's not as heartless as it sounds. Our reactions to the things we encounter in the news must be tempered by proportionality. We are all charged to look after our selves, our family, our friends, our community, our country, and then mankind -- in that order. Making gigantic, pointless, histrionic demonstrations of how much you care about people so far away they might as well be an abstraction isn't of any use to anyone. I've also noticed that people that make a big deal out of loving humanity in general usually leave a 5 percent tip after a four-hour meal, then go home and beat their wives. Or start the Soviet Union. Talk is cheap.
The level of moral preening abroad in the land grows daily. College students are demanding that Woodrow Wilson get airbrushed out of their textbooks to signal they're ready for three minutes hate. That way they can accuse anyone who stops after two minutes of being a kulak reactionary Goldstein fan.
It puts me in mind of King Charles II. After he was restored to the British throne, he dug up the corpse of Oliver Cromwell, the man who had beheaded his father, and had Cromwell's festering corpse drawn, hung, and beheaded. His father must have looked down from heaven, or more likely up from the other place, and thought to himself, "That's swell and all, but it would have been handier nine years ago."
On to the news:
Christ, bring back the Borgias. What an invertebrate sits on that chair now.
I wouldn't worry too much about that. The Baltic is no big deal. Put all your hotels on Mediterranean.
By ignoring everything but precious metals, Spain ended up with runaway inflation. Digging metal out of the ground to increase the money supply is no different than printing greenbacks.
Unlike all the little SJW twerps going to Ivy League, I have known lots of real, live Syrians. They're Christian. They came here years ago to get away from the murderous psychos you're inviting over now. But keep on caring deeply about Syrians to earn a sanctimony merit badge on your diploma, kids.
I used to live in a parallel universe where scientists could produce results twice in a row before they'd claim they'd outdone Newton.
I'm often surprised by what surprises people. Chicks dug Rudolph Valentino, too -- until he opened his mouth.
The iPhone economy is 99 percent Ponzi. A half dozen companies make money, everybody else borrows over and over again to cover their losses. LivingSocial lost $1.4 billion in 4 years. They simply convinced investors that the electronic equivalent of a flyer that falls out of the newspaper was General Motors.
It's like the sun rising in the east, isn't it? If a Clinton offers to go halfsies on a gold mine, they'll get the gold, you'll get the shaft.
Would you like to find out more? Vote Sanders!
My aunt, Carlotta Tendant, feels your pain, dude.
Maggie's Farm readers are our friends. We care about our friends. Stay out of the Radisson!
The Stranger (1912) - (h/t When Foreigners Were Funny)
The Stranger within my gate,
Friday, November 20. 2015
For charming relaxed long-weekend getaways, it's Bermuda for people on the east coast.
Bermuda is nearby and a cheap, quick flight, is warmed by the Gulf Stream, is surrounded by wonderful coral reefs, and remains entirely British in custom and manner. There is world-class golf year-round, but in spring and fall it's perfect for everything - snorkeling, rent a whaler, tennis, motorbiking and exploring. It's not just for honeymooners and sailors. Dark and Stormys, Bermuda Fish Chowder, baked Grouper. Good stuff. Not to mention the location of The Tempest.
A marriage needs a little Bermuda sometimes.
Maggie's Farmers like Cambridge Beaches. It is understated, modest, traditional, and where the Brit royals have always stayed. Yes, you dress for dinner. It's not your Caribbean or your Hawaii.
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