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.
Man, do we find NYC endlessly interesting and stimulating. To each his own, I guess, but we all know how to try to extract the most from this most amazing venue in the USA without being rich. Having a place too far from it would make me feel socio-culturally deprived and isolated. I know some readers feel otherwise, but they have not been properly introduced by us.
BTW, Bulldog and I are planning a second Maggie's NYC Urban Hike for September. Details when ready. Different route this time, different sights, probably on the West Side including the High Line and Clement Moore's Chelsea. That link does not make it clear that all of Chelsea was the Moore family farm/estate which was called "Chelsea". Wow. Serious real estate.
Nobody goes into medicine to do paperwork, to be bossed, or to be a rule-follower. Quite the opposite historically, but the new breed seems more submissive and less defiant.
Before I go on to Sargent, let me just take a couple of words to observe that I know Americans who will visit every museum they encounter in Europe, dutifully, but who spend no time in the greatest warehouse of civilizational art and artifacts in the world, right in NYC. The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Well, it is always full of people so there's that.
Readers know that my rule for museums is to go to see a specific, limited set of things, a 1 hr and 15 min time limit, and walk in the halls to your item destination with blinders on so as not to get distracted by other interesting things. It's too easy to get overstimulated and a case of the deadly museum-brain.
Mrs. BD and I zoomed in Sunday afternoon to catch the Sargent show. No rush to see - it's there until September. (Yes, we always use the earphone thingies)
Sargent had lots of friends, and painted them. Most interesting to me was that, as soon as he became rich enough from his society portraits, he turned to what he loved most which was Impressionist landscape, sometimes with people but with no facial features at all. Died 1925.
A few of my pics of Sargent's pics below the fold -
In Lewiston, Maine. Amoral lowlifes are everywhere. Why? What happened to the morally-bound, duty-bound America, or did it never exist outside my personal life?
We gave the lad a pair of some serious London-built Peal &Co. quality shoes for his birthday this weekend. Doubt he would ever do that for himself, which is what birthdays are for.
I am glad the issue has been raised. In my wanderings around New England, I see white trash people with tatts and strange body rings lollygagging around all day, and entire black families getting in the way of the Mexican landscapers trying to mow the "lawns" of welfare housing projects on a sunny weekday. A strange sight. The blacks make fun of the Mexicans for working, and the Mexicans despise the blacks.
The Asian (I mean real Asian - Chinese, Koreans, Singaporeans, Vietnamese, etc) legal immigrants are middle-class or more. They tend to arrive with education, skills, and some assets. However, I am not sure that they know much, or care much, about American values or traditions.
What's going on? Around here, the illegals work. Not so in many other areas, I know. Gangs, drugs, welfare, etc. Sometimes, this doesn't feel like "my country" anymore, and I know I am not alone in this.
Steyn: "Trump, like other philosophically erratic politicians from Denmark to Greece, has tapped into a very basic strain of cultural conservatism: the question of how far First World peoples are willing to go in order to extinguish their futures on the altar of "diversity"'.
My Mom always put up tons of these pickled string beans from my Dad's garden. When you take some out, people eat them like popcorn. You can not can too many of these.
We wanted to make a ton of Rhubarb jam on Saturday but we ran out of sugar and Mrs. BD needed to control the kitchen for a double family birthday party. Poached salmon, etc. Anyway, people gnawed on my raw Rhubarb stalks. Delicious and stringy. The Rhubarb I salvaged from Mom's garden is going great guns and, racially, we are the Rhubarb People.
Our stream at the Farm, foggy and drizzly evening. iPhone pic.
Yes, we need a MA fishing license to fish on our own stream. You cannot "own" a stream. The government owns it. We have this stream, one creek, and two smallish marshes. I love them all. They are filled with life. Annoying beavers too which we must constantly kill - or do I mean "cull"?
We are in a better economic place today than we were during the Bush/Reagan debate. Yet, somehow, the conversation has devolved. There is a problem today - but it's the same problem it was 35 years ago. In fact, the question was about "the problem" of illegal immigration.
We don't need to just welcome them in, but a path to citizenship for those who work hard should be available.
I have been hearing lately about all of the iPhone photo contests. It's become a big deal. Your pics are not allowed to be cropped or manipulated. A friend of mine is entering one of his iPhone shots from duck hunting in Quebec last fall into a contest/show in New Haven. Too bad he wouldn't email me the pic.
Fancy machines are not necessary for interesting pictures (not that an iPhone is a comprehensible or un-fancy machine to me). Real cameras seem to be becoming seen as clunky, obsolete artifacts except for nature documentation, Japanese tourists, fashion photogs, and the press corps. Often, imperfect and flawed photos are good and fun to look at. Photos from 1900 are wonderful.
In general, I try to avoid taking photos. "Why would I want to do that?" I will never look at them again.
When everything was fine And the notion of sin had vanished And the earth was ready In universal peace To consume and rejoice Without creeds and utopias,
I, for unknown reasons, Surrounded by the books Of prophets and theologians, Of philosophers, poets, Searched for an answer, Scowling, grimacing, Waking up at night, muttering at dawn.
What oppressed me so much Was a bit shameful. Talking of it aloud Would show neither tact nor prudence. It might even seem an outrage Against the health of mankind.
Alas, my memory Does not want to leave me And in it, live beings Each with its own pain, Each with its own dying, Its own trepidation.
Why then innocence On paradisal beaches, An impeccable sky Over the church of hygiene? Is it because that Was long ago?
To a saintly man --So goes an Arab tale-- God said somewhat maliciously: "Had I revealed to people How great a sinner you are, They could not praise you."
"And I," answered the pious one, "Had I unveiled to them How merciful you are, They would not care for you."
To whom should I turn With that affair so dark Of pain and also guilt In the structure of the world, If either here below Or over there on high No power can abolish The cause and the effect?
Don't think, don't remember The death on the cross, Though everyday He dies, The only one, all-loving, Who without any need Consented and allowed To exist all that is, Including nails of torture.
Totally enigmatic. Impossibly intricate. Better to stop speech here. This language is not for people. Blessed be jubilation. Vintages and harvests. Even if not everyone Is granted serenity.
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My college sex education: In her first year, a student finds a campus obsessed with hooking up —
My Mom always put up tons of these pickled string beans from my Dad's garden. When you take some out, people eat them like popcorn. You can not can too many of these.
