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.
Critics might dismiss my and others’ concerns about what trigger warnings represent as a slippery-slope fallacy. But if there is one thing that I have discovered in fighting for free speech on campus, it is that when it comes to limitations on speech and the uniquely sensitive environment of college campuses, the slope is genuinely perilously slick. In my career, I have seen harassment rationales — meant to prevent misogynists from forcing women out of jobs through constant abuse — being invoked to justify censoring everything from quoting popular television shows to faintly implying criticism of a university’s hockey coach to publicly reading a book.
For the Western political observer, Russia judged by common metrics always seems on the verge of being a spent force. As Joseph Conrad reminds us, Russia never seems to vanish from the map, and remains a font of imperialism and war.
Photo: A pal and his wife just returned from two weeks in Zambia. I had to wiki Zambia. They loved the trip. He promises some photos, but sent me just one thus far: A Lilac-Breasted Roller
Obama’s fecklessness is so unique that our adversaries and enemies surely realize they will never face a weaker president. They must assume the next commander in chief will take a more muscular approach to America’s interests and be more determined to forge alliances than the estranged man who occupies the Oval Office now.
Hay is gold in the Alps. Gotta keep the cattle, horses, and sheep fed all winter. There are hay barns all over.
It was haying season when we were in the Italian alps and the Dolomites last September, so many of the meadows looked almost like golf courses. You can't get a baler on the steep slopes, so they store it loose. They don't let a scrap go to waste.
It's about global, disposable, rapid-response fashion. They won't sell in middle America - the Spanish company says the women are too fat for their stuff.
For good looking clothing, Mrs. BD says D&G is the best by far. Italian designers and artisans. It's wonderful that some people can wear it, and afford it. Zara does not copy D&G.
Photo is D&G, not Zara. I will admit it - that is art.
Good grief. Well, I guess a lot of politics in democracies is about scaring the morons and bribing the others. Hey, conservatives want to take away birth control from women so they can't have fun, take away Social Security, starve the poor to death, shoot all the brown people, send immigrants to the gas chamber, and then burn up the planet afterwards. Who would vote for that in good conscience?
I'd like to see the Fed abolished. I guess I'd also like to see every grandiose imperial-Roman-looking building in DC knocked down and replaced by ordinary humble office buildings.The grandiosity of DC, the silly memorials to dead politicians, the lines of limos and tinted-window black Suburbans etc., all disgust me.It's not American and it does not represent the American spirit: quite the opposite.
A hungry feeling Came o'er me stealing And the mice were squealing In my prison cell And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal
Oh! To start the morning The warden bawling "Get up out of bed, clean out your cell!" And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal
Oh! the screw was peeping And the lag was sleeping As he lay weeping For his girl Sal And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal
On a fine Spring evening The lag lay dreaming And the sea-gulls were wheeling High above the wall And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal
Oh! the wind was sighing And the day was dying As the lag lay crying In his prison cell And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal
In the female prison There are seventy women It's with all of them That I'd like to dwell Then that auld triangle could go jingle-jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal.
This song was written by Irish playwright Brendan Behan for his play The Quare Fellow (slang for a condemned man). A lag is slang for a new prisoner. The song has been performed by The Dubliners, The Clancy Brothers, and The Pogues, and is recorded on one of Bob Dylan's practice "basement tapes" with The Band in a folk-rock style.
I finished off the peaches with something like this tonight - my own recipe:
I had only around 20 peaches from my tree left after my previous chutney cooking last weekend. Skinned and roughly chopped them. There were plenty of bad spots. 1 giant white onion chopped roughly and 12 cloves of roughly-chopped garlic, lightly sauteed in canola oil. 6 of those diabolical long skinny red peppers with the seeds, chopped (guess you could use those dried chinese ones) 2 cups of roughly chopped fresh ginger - that's a lot Simmered those things in a cup or two of cider vinegar for a while, maybe 20 mins, then added two cups or so of light brown sugar, a teaspoon of curry powder and a teaspoon of chili powder, a good sprinkle of Kosher salt, and stirred that up. Had to add more vinegar. I let that simmer and blend for around 20 minutes.
Then threw in the pile of chopped peaches to brew on a high simmer for around 40 or more minutes to simmer some of the juice off and to blend the flavors.
Wish I could tell you how this smells, and how that sauce tastes. Spicy indeed. I'll call this one Ginger-Pepper-Peach-Garlic Chutney. It will cure cancer and chase away the Devil - and Mrs. BD loves it on grilled or broiled salmon. The modern wife likes to be well-taken care of by a farmer spouse while she tends to the young'uns.
I'll freeze doses of this in freezer bags. Now I have a winter supply of mildly-peppery, and of highly-peppery, home-grown ("organic"!) peach chutney. Do you know how good this stuff is with cheese, meat, or even on crackers with cream cheese?
Iraq? We should have left it to Saddam. He understood that craphole same as Quaddaffi did his: government terrorism works better than random, volunteer terrorism. All governments use fear, to varying degrees of barbarity. If some Americans want to bomb bad people, how about bombing the Castros out of Cuba? They have been "Death to America" for generations.
I want to visit Cuba, though, before Capitalism ruins it (and turns it into a new Miami). For the slumming and the cheap stuff and the incredibly beautiful women. Seriously though, for the fishing.
Paranoids, grievance-collectors, and excuse-seekers cannot be too alert to the microaggressions and micro- acts of disrespect which occur all day long on the oppressive, hostile American college campi. Microaggression is an epidemic oppression, and microaggressors must be brought to justice. I'd include the nanoaggressors too because they are the sneakiest.
Remember, micro may mean teeny-weeny or invisible, but so is Ebola.
Photo: A pal and his wife just returned from two weeks in Zambia. I had to wiki Zambia. They loved the trip. He promises some photos, but sent me just one thus far: A Lilac-Breasted Roller
How 
The real thing: 
A hungry feeling 
Revisiting 
The Awful Reign of the Red Delicious