Maggie's Farm

Advice on tipping

Dead Moslem women. Who cares?

Miniature Toy Soldiers Ruled Violation Of RI School District's Weapons Ban

The reality of wind power

If you care: Alan Dershowitz Finally Endorses a Republican

Always confuses me when Lefties like Krugman refer to tax cuts as "costs".

Obama Admin. Argues in Court That Individual Mandate Is a Tax

The Moocher Index, state by state

The case for government's lying about the economy

North Korea to permit private markets

Obama urges G20 to keep up spending or endanger recovery

Noonan: A Snakebit Pres

Poll: Obama Endorsement Poison for Candidates

What is it about a strong conservative woman that so frightens liberals?

Americans don't like the dog food

From a post at Coyote:

I work with a lot of very bright, very good people in government.  The problem is that their incentives and information are awful.  How would you behave if for 20 years your main feedback was to be criticized for violating minor procedures or trying new things?  How would you have any understanding of business if you grew up in the bizarro world of government budgeting and accounting?   This is the problem with government – not that it is full of bad stupid people, but it takes good smart people and incentivizes them to do counter-productive things.

I like the idea of "truth without value." How come it took me this long to find that concept? AVI's final paragraph of The Morality of Nonbelievers:

The Christian answer, as I have suggested, may be no truer than the others. It may be just one more variation of photosynthesis. I offer here no defense of that. Perhaps there is some other explanation outside of mankind – no, it would have to be outside of life itself – no wait, it would have to be outside of this accidental planet and even the accidental universe – that would make something in morality real, and true, and valuable. But absent any such, there isn’t anything that qualifies as morality – and there is simply no meaning beyond the masturbatory for a nonbeliever to give himself any credit for having one equal to the believer’s.

I agree with everything AVI says, and I feel motivated to think harder about things which affect me which have truth but little value.

Lux et Veritas, as they say in Rome. They used to say it in New Haven, too.

An email from Nathan, our correspondent in Jerusalem:

The head burger assembler at Burger Bar is a tall, handsomely groomed, black-bearded Samurai master of the knife. More a ridged machete or sword he wields, rather twirls, flips, flicks in a ballet of carbon-forged steel. He calls me Abelleh, "little father," as if I could have fathered such a towering genius of the blade, with a smile that dims the knife"s glistening.  From my loins, not likely. But as one of my professors who served in the Pacific said when complemented for his respect towards Japanese colleagues said, "Gotta be nice to these bastards; never know whether one of 'em is mine."

I take refuge in Burger Bar after a marathon of moving, a different choreography of furniture shifting, socks disappearing, blaring badly-sung, out of tune Hasidic music blaring as the "Dosies" (those who have found haredi religion) whip away an adult lifetime's collection and disappear it into a half-container.  

Only the Chagall I worried about, insured separately, and between my house and the truck, it disappeared, evaporated into the blazing Jerusalem arid air, whiffed away as if heavenward. One of the packers complained, "Chagall, Shmagal, what is this, who is this, what does it matter?"  Only the insistence of my helper, Keren, and a search of many unlabeled packages was Abraham consoling Sarah as the angels come to announce her fruition, does Chagall reappear. A city of miracles, Jerusalem is. And persistence, as Keren raises her voice and pays back with interest. ("The Chagall is equal to the whole value of the shipment. You will open every box until we find it.")  Tough chick.

A buddy who is a fan of Judge Yachts emails me the following:

Those of us originally from south of the Mason Dixon line get tired of hearing about how good the Yankee boat builders were.  Southern boats ran rings around those Yankee blockades during the War of Northern Aggression.
 
Anyway, link is to a builder who constructs Chesapeake Bay style workboats, all gussied up for fishin' and cruisin'  They don't have the high, flared bow like the Carolina style hulls of Buddy Davis, but have a nice wide transom so a following sea doesn't cause problems.

“I pretty much have my bad inclination [‘yetzer hara’] under control; it’s my good inclination [‘yetzer hatov’] that always gets me into trouble.”

Rabbi Wolfe Kelman (h/t, Vanderleun). I suppose that's the Yiddish version of "No good deed goes unpunished."

John Wesley (1703-1791), founder of what we now call Methodism (the term was originally used as an insult but was eventually adopted by Wesley), and his brother Charles spent some time in Savannah, GA. I lost a bet about that at a dinner party last year, which cost me a bottle of good Montrachet.

Methodism was the ultimate source of our 12-step programs: the Wesleyans liked to have methods for spiritual discipline. John Wesley was an evangelist, and liked to preach outdoors. He tried to convert the Georgia Indians.

He was a "by faith alone" preacher.

He got in a bit of a problem with a Georgia lady, and eventually returned to England. Here's a piece on Wesley in Georgia, and here's a Wesley bio.

The hymns written by John and Charles Welsey are among my favorites. Charles wrote 6000 hymns. John even produced a hymnal but, as this site notes,

Today people are much more familiar with some of Charles Wesley's hymns than with John Wesley's sermons.

Image of John Wesley above, Charles Wesley below:

Good online radio, from the Ivy League: WKCR. On Saturday they had a Howlin' Wolf festival which blew my mind. And right after, I went to hear Nozze di Figaro.

How much amazing music can a brain process in one day?

Powerline is clearly a Dartmouth-oriented website. Nary a month goes by without their talking about their attachment to their beloved Alma Mater. Volokh has Dartmouth connections too.

I just learned that American Thinker, another essential site, is sort of a Kenyon College site. Both Lifson, Publisher, and Baehr, founder and "Chief Political Correspondent," are Kenyon guys.

Thanks to our friend Marianne for reminding us of this critically important day of National Awareness and Action.

Make sure you get out there and abuse at least one of those "elders" today. More, if you can find them. If they have any grey hair, go for it. Do not beat anybody under 30, as they used to say.

If you happen to be an elder, whatever that is (related to Elderberry?), then abuse yourself in your way of choice.

I have planned my day to find a crew of those elders in line for the Early Bird Special at my local Long John Silver's. It's right next to Red Lobster, so we'll have a chance to abuse quite a few seafood-eaters.

I hate to do it, but it's for America. And, let's admit it: sado-masochism is exciting.

I had best post this live performance today, before it's taken down from YouTube. It's a rare performance, from last week, of his What Good Am I?, from his 1989 Oh Mercy! album.

What honest human has never asked himself such questions?

What good am I, if I'm like all the rest
If I just turn away when I see how you're dressed
If I shut myself off so I can't hear you cry
What good am I ?

What good am I if I know and don't do
If I see and don't say, if I look right through you
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin' sky
What good am I ?

What good am I while you softly weep
And I hear in my head what you say in your sleep
And I freeze in the moment like the rest who don't try
What good am I ?

What good am I then to others and me
If I had every chance and yet still fail to see
If my hands are tied must I not wonder within
Who tied them and why and where must I have been.

What good am I if I say foolish things
And I laugh in the face of what sorrow brings
And I just turn my back while you silently die
What good am I ?

This is in Linz (home of the Linzer torte, and a place I will visit in August). That is Bob noodling on the organ.

h/t, Wizbang:

Walked past the Joyce the other evening. $10 sounds good. Mrs. BD was trying to remember how many times she has seen Appalachian Spring.

I remember when old Martha herself would wobble out to the stage at the end of the performances.

A re-post -

The Greeks colonized Poseidonia - now Paestum - on the south-west coast of Italy (90 miles south of Napoli) around 650 BC. Poseidonia became the Roman city Paestum in 273 BC.

Paestum contains the finest complex of Greek temples in the world, which was discovered in 1762 by a road crew. They were built before the Parthenon was completed in the 400s (BC).

The modern town of Paestum is a seaside resort, but the reason to go there is to see the Greek temples outside of town. Our Dylanologist did just that (and brought me back a Paestum t-shirt!).

The splendid, if heavy-looking, Doric temple in this photo is known as The Temple of Hera ll.

Here's a photo of the 450 BC Temple of Hera l, later rededicated to Neptune. More info on the Hera l temple here.

Here's a photo bank of the contents of the Paestum Archaeological Museum.

A bit of commentary from the Great Buildings Online website:

When the ruins of Paestum were 'rediscovered' by 'antiquaries'�chiefly Johann Joachim Winckelmann�in the 1750s, "the ruins [were] then made widely known, and an enthusiastic appreciation of Greek art and architecture was also sparked...Because of Paestum, the Classic Revival was born with Greece, not Rome, ascendant."

� Deborah Fritz from G. E. Kidder Smith. Looking at Architecture. p16.

The three Paestum temples are all in the Archaic Doric style of heavy columns with capitals that are squat, or as Goethe termed them, 'oppressive.' By the time the Parthenon was finished (438 B.C.), columns were elegantly slender, capitals had an alert, load-bearing profile, and refinement attended every detail. Moreover, they were carved from Parian marble; Paestum's now crudely exposed shellstone shafts, it is only fair to say, were originally covered with lime stucco. As in Greece proper, the temples at Paestum face easterly so that the rising sun will awaken the statue within."

� G. E. Kidder Smith. Looking at Architecture. p16.

I wrote earlier today that Mozart had a negative feeling towards Roman Catholicism. I don't know where I read that. He certainly was a Freemason, and at least impatient with Catholic requirements, but never formally left the RC Church.

By coincidence, today Potemra has a post about Merton, Barth, and Mozart. A quote:

Merton and Barth were both wrestling with what it meant to be created in God’s image, and — as in the famous passage, Matthew 18:3 — saw that image most clearly in human beings who could express childlike joy.

Since I am specializing today in posting statements which I cannot source, I may as well mention that I once read that Barth said that this song summed up all anybody needed to know about Christian faith.

Story here.

Photo of Dr. Bob's grave in Akron, from the story.

We finished up yesterday with a performance of Figaro by the Chelsea Opera in their usual space, St. Peter's Episcopal Church on W. 20th St. Just wonderful to be so close up to the sorts of remarkable singers small opera companies can get in NYC. I have decided that I prefer this sort of thing to the Met or the New York City Opera - and it is not just the price.

Lorenzo da Ponte was the librettist for Le Nozze di Figaro, Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte. A Jewish convert to Catholicism, it is said that he hated the RC Church as much as Mozart did, but I am not certain of that from a Mozart who said “Protestantism was all in the head.” Da Ponte was a priest for a while, and a famous scoundrel, debtor, womanizer, and MILF-predator.

Another cool factoid: St. Peter's was built in 1836 on farm land donated by Clement Moore who became Warden and organist for the church. The Moore family had a good-sized estate there, which was named "Chelsea." Moore also donated the land on which General Theological Seminary still stands, a few blocks away. St. Peter's is a fine old church but a bit down at the heels:

Luke 7:36-8:3

7:36 One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and took his place at the table.

7:37 And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment.

7:38 She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.

7:39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him--that she is a sinner."

7:40 Jesus spoke up and said to him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Teacher," he replied, "Speak."

7:41 "A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.

7:42 When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?"

7:43 Simon answered, "I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt." And Jesus said to him, "You have judged rightly."

7:44 Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.

7:45 You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet.

7:46 You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.

7:47 Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."

7:48 Then he said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."

7:49 But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

7:50 And he said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

8:1 Soon afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him,

8:2 as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out,

8:3 and Joanna, the wife of Herod's steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources.

Recessional

God of our fathers, known of old--
   Lord of our far-flung battle line
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
   Dominion over palm and pine--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies;
   The captains and the kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
   An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away;
   On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
   Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
   Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe--
Such boasting as the Gentiles use
   Or lesser breeds without the law--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget - lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
   In reeking tube and iron shard--
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
   And guarding, calls not Thee to guard--
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord!

Posted today because Driscoll recently linked Derbyshire's 2002 post on Kipling's poem which had been written for the 1897 Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria. Many do not know that Kipling later became a resident of Vermont for many years.

Our friend Gregory (aka Sippican) is doing just that: Quiet, Numskulls, I'm Broadcastin'