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
Friday, January 12. 2007
We have been very boat-oriented this week. Is Spring coming?
1. A father's life advice to his 21 year-old son: "You only need to know two things: you can marry more money in a minute than you can make in a lifetime, and always have friends who own boats."
2. "A boat is a hole in the water that you pour money into."
Display comments as (Linear | Threaded)
"you can marry more money in a minute than you can make in a lifetime, and always have friends who own boats"
The easier to drown yourself later, after you tire of earning every penny of the free money, times ten.
I meant to be funny, too--sorry. typing leaves no tone, sigh.
Ok, will this rehabilitate me?
Spengler asks Bush, "If You So Dumb, How Come You Ain't Poor?"
I'll bet ya that Anon is some disgruntled female with a very unhappy life....
Men, watch ev'r word ya rite cause the femmes is look'n for a fight.
Hey, dammit, that was ME--dunno why it came up 'anonymous'. I was trying to be pithy.
read that Spengler link if ya get in the mood--can't tell if he's accusing or praising. He a wizard, tho. I think he may be Wretchard in another iteration.
"you can marry more money in a minute than you can make in a lifetime,"
Advise John Kerry took to heart.
I know you're not a disgruntled female, but a proud TEXAS MAN with a backhoe.
We'll when I get to Montana I'm gett'n a Farmall Cub. And I'm gonna bag some coyote
BTW I lurked an old site I use to contribute to and they're all in perfect formation. I'd call it a left eschelon, downbeat, anti-war, bad mouthing anything the CIC does. I haven't posted there in '07 and IF I do it'll be after we knock out Natanz with nuclear weapons, or rather the Israeli's do it.
I wouldn't want to be down 10 points in the fourth quarter and expect that bunch to do anything but hang their heads and mumble about the poor coaching.
He's twice removed--the $ was the Heinz family's before Therezza inherited it after her hubby's fatal accident.
Well, you were right on that disgruntled part--that's me state of being. Yes, politics ain't so damn fun anymore, somehow. The righties who gave us the Dem congress because the Pubs are so screwed up, have now put the jihad in control of congress. Talk about a cognitive disorder, the inability to grasp the concept of the lesser evil. Plus, none of us have the inside dope, so how can we know what the array of options ever really are at any point in time, on any given tactic?
"Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."
Wind in the Willows, I think Buddy, if I remember right. Somebody here would know.
Wind in the Willows. a great line, I think from Water Rat but I'm not certain.
“the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
'Nice? It's the only thing,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. 'Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing- absolute nothing- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: 'messing- about- in- boats; messing-'
'Look ahead, Rat!' cried the Mole suddenly.
It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in the air.
'-about in boats- or with boats,' the Rat went on composedly, picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. 'In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not. Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together, and have a long day of it?'
The Mole waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with a sigh of full contentment, and leaned back blissfully into the soft cushions. 'What a day I'm having!' he said. 'Let us start at once!”
There's nothing in the world like sailing. Standing under a cold shower in foul weather gear with the spout aimed down your neck while you tear up hundred dollar bills is close - and cheaper - but it's just not the same.
Maybe it's the salt air....
There's nothing in the world like sailing, like being on a speeding yacht tilted 70 degrees into sure death, one’s fingers gripping the rail, mind calculating ship to shore swimming distance, and smile pasted on one’s face to the captain, while hearing a family member being banged around in the cabin below. Good times!
I great article..thanks for the link ..
I agree with your thought, which I often expressed at site E is that we have no idea of the intel our people are in receipt of every day and why they do things the way they do.
I would easily say that there has never been a more dynamic explosive immediate environment that we have right now. As I've said it's Mr. Toad's Wild Ride and we're just second guessing spectators.
Maybe if yous was doin more than beer-spa'in and showin off your deviled eggs to the misses' friends, youd see that the disgruntledness is just a complex type of love, like the kind a patron has to an errant Arby's. Nothing evil intended, just mistakes made that need to be corrected. Can't ever make those corrections without stress to spur the change. You might see it as melodrama, but i just think that reveals you for what you are: a latter day Tennesee Williams, what with your own Street Car Named Snide. Being laconic and being complacent are probably just seperated by who lives and dies as a result.
Now I dont wish no harm on you. I hope your fridge is full of chilled froofy drinks and microo-wavable TGIFridays hors derves, but when you speak ill of the Bar, the bar speaks to the ill of the when you, ya hear?
Disneyland July 17, 1955
Magic Kingdom October 1, 1971
Closed - September 7, 1998
Mr. Toad's Wild Ride is a dark ride at the Disneyland theme park in Anaheim. It is one of the few remaining attractions that was operational on the park's opening day in 1955. The ride's story is based on Disney's adaptation of The Wind in the Willows, one of the two segments of the film The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad. It was once an attraction at the Magic Kingdom park in Walt Disney World, but despite a long protest against its closure, Mr. Toad's journeys to nowhere in particular were put to an end in 1998 and the ride was replaced the following year with The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.
aw shucks Mr Toad lost to future generations,darn. I lived in Santa Ana, Ca when Disneyland opened. As an 8 year old it was truly a fantasy world, and only about 15 minutes away.
Somehow Winnie the Pooh's wild ride isn't warty enough.
"...while hearing a family member being banged around in the cabin below"
there's more to Grahame's remembrance--i can feel it in my bones.
Yes, it was thrilling, until the tanned owner started looking pale.
But it weren't nothing like your chilling good story on the pond.
Oh yes--the Terrye-inspired cold-weather reminiscence. That was some piece by Terrye--i think i linked it here. She & I share dairy memories. Mm--mm--manure.
Re that Sippican link bird dog posted--man, that Sippican can write--scroll down and read the Elvis post (no, it's not what you think).
" I saw America and the world's odometer turn over."
I guess a day comes in our lives when we realize we can't go back.
"Oh lost...and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again"
Thomas Wolfe (the first one, 1900-1939). He wrote that line while still in his 20s--no wonder he died so young.
“Wind pressed the boughs; the withered leaves were quaking.
We shall not come again. We never shall come back again. It was October, but we never shall come back again.
When will they come again? When will they come again?
The laurel, the lizard, and the stone will come no more. The women weeping at the gate have gone and will not come again. And pain and pride and death will pass, and will not come again. And light and dawn will pass, and the star and the cry of a lark will pass, and will not come again. And we shall pass, and shall not come again.
What things will come again? O Spring, the cruellest and fairest of the seasons, will come again. And the strange and buried men will come again, in flower and leaf the strange and buried men will come again, for death and the dust will die. And Ben will come again, he will not die again, in flower and leaf, in wind and music far, he will come back again.
O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again!”
(Look Homeward, Angel)
Who doesn’t cry upon reading this, again and again and again and again?
Ben was his brother, IIRC, who died when the two brothers were just kids. My mom really liked that book.
Poor old author, spent a very short life mourning for everything gone.
It's really a deeply hopeful outlook, that there is a perfect place, after all, but that everything moves past too fast to feel it all the way out.
I mean, unless you love life too much, you wouldn't live it mourning the part past. imho--
Really wonderfully said, Buddy. “Mourning the part past” and the rest!
I suppose some of us don’t consciously live in mourning of the past because of how self-indulgent and flabby that would feel, but then, perhaps out of compensation, we live too much in the future with busyness, plans, projects, seeking better qualities from life, etc. I commit that kind of transgression, happily and unrepentantly, have to say--
Maybe Wolfe was grieving his brother and eulogizing the passing of everything, but he also speaks of the passing of death, "for death and the dust will die". What I take from this passage is a reminder of the real future, the perennial and ever-present, composted but not futile future of all things passing and living in other ways over and over again in a cosmic season of existence. That perhaps some level of life, actions and vanities do extinguish, but remembrance in other forms is eternal. Here he makes me want to fall back into the moment more, to find spaces and times that will only be briefly occupied and to appreciate them. Homeward is forward and not just backward. If only we keep that in mind, how much more life could be found in our present journey between the two?
Lots and lots i think, anon. It's all in our minds anyway, and our mind is the only thing we can control--yet so often we just surrender that control to the wind, to whimsy, to whatever--the gods on Olympus playing games with us--in trade for the illusion that we can control the things outside our powers. Your post set me to looking for the passage in Carlos Castaneda's works where Death is seen as a physical presence, an ally, always at arm's length off our left shoulder, there to be consulted at any time about the meaning of the thing we are doing.
I found two great reads:
Both now going into my "top stuff" file--thanks!
More--from a Mexican indian mystic.
One thinks, 'what could he know?'
Then one remembers, he had to live--and live well if he could manage it--in a state of nature, with near nothing but his hands, mind and spirit. He had to be smart as he could be, and able to rely on himself utterly.
What fun and fantastic links, edifying, too. Castaneda sorta bypassed my timeline of consciousness back when- did more walking through life than seeking, as in "smart" but really young-dumb. Anyway, will try to absorb the knowing goodness between a movie or two tonite (sacrilege?) with a glass of mind-altering wine.
But, :(, acc to that second piece, the only thing I’m currently doing right is talking to my little plants (have found tomatoes to be too resplendent for return dialogue but peppers are always saucy fun and delight in the encouragement.) Did you catch this oh-oh for your wonderful blogging/ commenting life- “The only thing that counts is action, acting instead of talking”? Typing and communicating are a form of action, you told yourself, right?
Terrific point you make about developing a relationship with and keeping an unfearful awareness of death to help understand the moment or act of striving. And all that other good mind stuff you came up with- simply yes! Appreciate the insights. We all do. Will ponder.
Farming, ranching or managing land, (nature, its seasons and caprice) may not be a survival or subsistence existence, but wouldn't they require resourcefulness and a bigger understanding of how things work, both hands-on, mind and spirit, too?
LOL--caught the oh-oh, and answered it as you predicted. Nice ju-jitsu on monument-like didactic proud indian warrior now scuttling for cover in butt-exposing hospital gown.
Ha! Great visual. Now, I'm going to practice crossing my eyes, as exhorted by the Indian teacher, over the print-out of your good links. Complete book, the inch- thick stack of pages look to be.
Sometime will send you a link to Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Everything, only 23.5 k pp. long, which you undoubtedly would skim in a leisurely 15 minutes.
i may be too asshamed to so skim. Called to action by a sarchasm between calling to action ("Vive l'Audace!") vs the action of calling(uh, balanced precariously atop steadily-flabbulizing buns, here I sit typing), I may be forced to stomp magisterially outside into the freezing wind & rain and sharpen my edged weapons!
Uh, no sarcasm here, only gentle ribbing, (I meant you could skim and absorb), but go ahead and sharpen, as long as you don't catch your death of cold. But please lay the blame at the wise feet of the Indian teacher for your present state.
[As I rummage through the kitchen drawers, all I can find is a grapefruit knife and wonder whether I should start running? Oh, whew, I'm anonymous!]
LOL--'sarchasm' is a steal from that Washington Post Neologism contest. here's a few others:
1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.
6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
Caught that chasm and the list is great. But if 'flabbulize' is yours, it’s plenty fab and phat. Brings to mind ‘corpulent’, which could mean more body on loan until the diet starts- ?