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.
So where did all this extra matter come from? Why was it extra matter that was created and not extra antimatter? And when did it happen, and how did it happen? I’m going to be honest with you: this is one of the biggest unsolved puzzles in all of physics today.
Kudlow on the radio today ruminated about, bemoaned, the lack of moral and spiritual equality in America today.
It reminded me of something a niece said about a friend, who had gotten engaged, at Thanksgiving: "She's psycho-socially a bit primitive, not too refined, so they're a good match."
Doris Lessing's Impatience With Political Correctness - As we bid Lessing farewell, the blight she
spoke of—“political correctness” and, in particular, its toxic feminist
strain—is on the move again
...they discovered that young women are more likely to regret having indulged in too many or the wrong kind of sexual experiences while young men are more likely to regret having missed out on sexual opportunities, for not having been sufficiently assertive.
Here's one quote of the Inquisitor's monologue to the returned and imprisoned Jesus Christ:
So long as man remains free he strives for nothing so incessantly and so painfully as to find someone to worship. But man seeks to worship what is established beyond dispute, so that all men would agree at once to worship it. For these pitiful creatures are concerned not only to find what one or the other can worship, but to find community of worship is the chief misery of every man individually and of all humanity from the beginning of time. For the sake of common worship they've slain each other with the sword. They have set up gods and challenged one another, "Put away your gods and come and worship ours, or we will kill you and your gods!" And so it will be to the end of the world, even when gods disappear from the earth; they will fall down before idols just the same.
Thou didst know, Thou couldst not but have known, this fundamental secret of human nature, but Thou didst reject the one infallible banner which was offered Thee to make all men bow down to Thee alone -- the banner of earthly bread; and Thou hast rejected it for the sake of freedom and the bread of Heaven. Behold what Thou didst further. And all again in the name of freedom! I tell Thee that man is tormented by no greater anxiety than to find someone quickly to whom he can hand over that gift of freedom with which the ill-fated creature is born.
Readers are probably slowly recovering from yesterday's feast day in America, but this is very good if you have 5 minutes, by Williamson:The Problem of Selfishness - Political self-interest is no less selfish than economic self-interest.
Presidents, Popes, everything except pumpkin pie. One quote:
The notion that the pursuit of power is somehow less selfish than the pursuit of money found its way into Pope Francis’s Evangelii Gaudium, in which the pope rehearses some ancient Catholic criticisms of market liberalism that have excited anti-capitalists throughout the world, who are always eager for any scrap of economic encouragement from an institution and a man with views they otherwise detest utterly...
In our mens' Bible group this morning, reading Peter, we stumbled on the topic of death and a satisfied death. Christians would have no fear or dread of death without our animal survival instincts. Life can be a trial at times, and often feels more like a burden than like a gift. Notwithstanding that, we all have it darn good, materially and comfort-wise, compared to our ancestors. Not to sound like a Puritan, but does anybody say, on his deathbed, "I thank God that I had flush toilets"?
Well, maybe some might. It's chilly out there with your trousers down.
An old gospel tune: Hallelujah, I'm Ready to Go. Lyrics here.
A sucker born every minute. But that's not really the point. I think the faux deals just provide an excuse, or rationalization, for the immediate-gratification fun of going out and getting shiny new stuff.
"Take the New York Times. In a fit of candor, it now agrees with what we've said all along — "redistribution of wealth lies at the heart of" the Affordable Care Act.
The paper reported that "economic justice" was Obama's real goal in taking over a sixth of the economy. But to make his plan "palatable" to "middle-class voters," he had to mislead them into thinking nothing would be taken from them."
In the absence of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and a bunch of pipers, Mrs. BD will have to bang out Auld Lang Syne herself on ye olde pianny tomorrow afternoon for a sing-along as the extended BD family gives thanks, but, for the first time, with my parents gone. Lots of people sleeping over - hope we can find enough rooms and beds at the BD Manor.
Mrs. BD can still find her pianny brain when she wants to. There is nothing like a Steinway to inspire them fingers because the machine fills the house with glorious sound, missed notes and all. I like the missed notes.
Our Thanksgiving tradition is to always invite friends along with family, especially friends and acquaintances without jolly and festive plans, but not so much of that this year even though we love having people around the place. There remains a funereal atmosphere in the family. These lyrics are more appropriate for the situation than I might have imagined. If any one of us can get through it without breaking down, I'll be amazed.
It is true that Bobbie Burns stole the lyrics, but he said he had done so.
Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?
CHORUS: For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup! and surely I’ll buy mine! And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We two have run about the slopes, and picked the daisies fine ; But we’ve wandered many a weary foot, since auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dine; But seas between us broad have roared since auld lang syne.
CHORUS
And there’s a hand my trusty friend! And give me a hand o’ thine! And we’ll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne.
Last week, I agreed to do some volunteer work at a local grade school. We cleaned up and re-painted 2 basketball courts in Harlem. The work was managed by a public/private partnership of the NYC Parks Department. I was able to get some first hand knowledge on why we need volunteers so much.
The most interesting thing I noticed was how ill-prepared our Parks Department representative was. Leaves were all over the courts and needed to be removed. There were 3 men with small bags doing this work. Slowly. Clearly union work. I offered to grab some bags and start getting the leaves off, but was told no, these men would do it. After removing about one-eighth of all the leaves, they left. Gone, finished. Nothing left behind to finish the job of removing leaves. Our representative had all the tools we needed to paint - but we were going to have to paint with leaves in the way and blowing all over the courts. I saw, at the start, this was a clinic in how the government manages things.
We like big bottles for holidays, but they will want to breathe for a few hours.
That's a double magnum of Pol Roger (no breathing), a Jeroboam of 1994 Col di Sasso Tuscany cabernet/sangiovese, a double magnum of Meeker Sonoma Merlot 2002, and a couple of bottles of late bottled Ramos Pintos 1998 Port. Those late-bottled vintage ports are a good deal, and ready to drink. Martinelli's for the teetotalers (in the fridge, not photogenic).
Plenty nice enough for a proletarian, gun totin', pa'tridge huntin', dog lovin', Bible-clingin' proud Yankee red-necked Mayflower farmin' family. We'll have some cheap seegars, too. Everybody will sleep well... and far more comfortably than their Pilgrim ancestors ever did.
Nice picture on the wall? I like Cape Codder John Grillo. Chatted with him several times. He's still alive, and one day I might be able to afford another one of his purty pitchers of nekked gals and dancers before he goes to the great art studio in the sky. I hope to see him this summer, well-aged (b. 1917) but alive and still working all day, every day.
Readers know that I am a Christian, probably some sort of re-born variety I guess. Jewish friends tease me by saying that I belong to a strange Jewish cult. While raised Roman Catholic, I somehow became a member of the well-known Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan. An acquaintance at work dragged me there.
As a Christian, I am always interested in our Jewish foundations, but I am not very well-informed. I felt this was good from Daniel Greenfield (Sultan Knish): Jewish Culture, Revelation and Continuity:
Faith is not grappling with difficult existential questions. It is best expressed in the dialogue between the Prophet Ezekiel and G-d. "And He said unto me: 'Son of man, can these bones live?' And I answered: 'O Lord GOD, Thou knowest." (Ezekiel 37:3)
And so faith answers its own question.
That is the essential humility that is the true character of the prophet. Liberal streams of Judaism claim to focus on prophetic value of social justice. But the calls of the prophets for justice did not come from them. They came from G-d. In their natural state they were humble men, like Moses, who did not strive to impose their will on others, but waited to hear what G-d would tell them to do.
That humility of action is faith. And without that humility, there is no room for faith or G-d.
As a native Cape Codder and cranberry fan, it's a delight to report that they may have a powerful anti-atheroscletotic effect. Maybe this news might have a beneficial effect on a specialized family farming that has been bedeviled by low prices.
The big producers are Wisconsin, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Washington, Oregon and Michigan.
The sentence in Science Daily I don't understand is the following: "The researchers said that the next step is to determine which compounds in cranberries contribute to the benefits and then figure out how to incorporate them into the diet in a form palatable to humans." How about in cranberry juice, cranberry muffins, cranberry pancakes, 25 kinds of cranberry sauce, cranberry cobbler, and dried cranberry "raisins,"....for starters? You can buy unsweetened, undiluted cranberry juice now in most supermarkets.
We keep bags of them in the freezer, and they seem to last a year.
Cranberry sauce: it's not just for Thanksgiving turkey. It's good for chicken and almost any kind of game meat. Never use the junk from the can, though. Even if you think you like it, you will find you like the home-made better.
More on this native North American bog plant here.
3. And we received a comment from a site called Mondoweiss asking that we never link their stories again. We linked the report on Chucky Shumer. I checked their website, where they say "To publish a diversity of voices to promote dialogue on these important issues." Hmmm.
Despite the alleged benefits of "diversity" in the American educational system, in the actual behavior of pre-adolescents and adolescents, diversity does not appear to be the most important characteristic that youngsters themselves use in their choice of friends and companions. If you observe college students walking, eating or choosing where to sit in a large lecture hall, you are far more likely to see males with other males and females with other females, blacks sitting with blacks and Asians with other Asians. But Asians, despite their reputation for remaining aloof on campuses, seem good at finding commonalities based on shared interests. They are visible, not segregated in Asian enclaves by prejudice against them or by choosing friends exclusively from their own ethnic group, and they excel, on the average, on academic accomplishments. It is almost inevitable for them to be role models for less academically single-minded students to emulate.
I read this today. Krugman is the king of fallacies and member of the royal family when it comes to revisionism. I'm not sure what world exists in which unproductive spending is better than nothing. If all I did was spend money buying sand to make an ever larger sand pile, soon I will be bankrupt. Multiply this many times over a population, and soon society is starving and bankrupt.
“This is the kind of environment in which Keynes’s hypothetical policy of burying currency in coalmines and letting the private sector dig it up – or my version, which involvesfaking a threat from nonexistent space aliens – becomes a good thing;spending is good, and while productive spending is best, unproductive spending is still better than nothing.”
A book: 
From The Brothers Karamazov (1879). The chapter is one of the most famous passages in literature, and it's time we re-linked it. 
Readers are probably slowly recovering from yesterday's feast day in America, but this is very good if you have 5 minutes, by Williamson: 
Blatantly-racist Thanksgiving artwork via Pirate
