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.
This is just one of many of Bob's confessional songs (eg What Good Am I, etc). His recorded version of Every Grain of Sand is powerful but it's not on Youtube. Sweet Emmylou just makes the darkness and pain of confession a bit too sing-songy but you get the gist.
If you are an exerciser, do you do a dedicated Leg Day? Many people do.
I mix leg strength in with the other items (ie Strength, Cardio, and Calisthenics) instead of doing a Leg Day. My legs are skinny and weak from a strength standpoint, but I can hike up mountains all day long and can ski all day long. However, that is Endurance, not Strength. I tend to have more Endurance than Strength. Sometimes I wonder why I want or need more leg strength, but in the end I just do what I am told like a good soldier and trust that my genius trainer has my best interest at heart. He wants to build me up but we are all limited by the physique we were given.
The leg strength exercises are great for my posture. People notice that. It's that Posterior Chain of ankle-to-neck that the good deads stress the most.
Mrs. BD says that when she pats me on the ass she now feels muscle instead of bone, so that is good. I deserve more spanks than pats, but whatever. I do deserve spanks when caught with tobacco even though I am part Indian and have that excuse, and sometimes I do deserve them after boys' nites out but boys have to be boys. I still need to gain 4-5 pounds of muscle and sinew and then I'll be set. Gaining the good kind of weight is not easy at all because it requires working harder than you like and eating more than you want to. I hate hard effort and I do not love eating, even in Italy. I like food when required but do not love it and enough is enough.
For lower body strength, I do deadlift, barbell squat, squat and press, step-up-and-press, and lunges with weights. Except for deadlift, it is all very unpleasant. Also, calf lifts on my cardio days just for something extra to do.
Depending on where you grew up, you might refer to noodle-shaped pastas as macaroni, noodles, or spaghetti. If more advanced, you might refer to the specific name of the pasta species.
In Soprano Country, they refer to that disgusting red tomato sauce for pasta as "gravy" as in "I'll take some more gravy for my macaroni."
Generally speaking, I am not a big fan of pastas. Peasant food! Packed with Evil Gluten! Well, a small primi of pappardelle with a (fresh) porcini sauce decorated with chopped parsley is very fine so I can make some exceptions.
I will admit to being a food snob when it comes to Italian. Pasta is not a meal unless you plan to run a marathon in a couple of hours. It can be a small primi but there are many sorts of primi. And cappucino is only a breakfast coffee. Italians do not eat meatballs. The best pizzas in the world are in America because we think a pizza is a meal, not the nutrition-free street snack that it is. I could go on and annoy everybody.
That is the House Mouse who, along with the Fruit Fly and E. Coli, may be the most important scientific lab animals that exist.
These cute, prolific little buggers have been carried around the world from their native origin in north India. They thrive in and around human habitat and, as the temperatures cool in the Fall, they are more likely to try to settle indoors.
Cats and mousetraps are made for them. It's October, and we have them now.
An airplane is just a crappy bus, and my Greyhound days are over. For long flights, I need an airplane with a gym on board. I've joked about wanting planes with swimming pools,but an upstairs gym would do me a lot of good on a plane. The only reason I hate long flights (ie over 4 hours) is my physical restlessness. I am not a good sitter, I do not enjoy movies except for ten minutes. I don't do video games. I have no real paperwork to do outside the office. I don't mind reading a book for 30 minutes but after that I need to do something for a while. Plus I am prone to a mild Restless Leg Syndrome on airplanes so I would rather stand up. And don't tell me I am supposed to sleep.
I am not asking for a weight room, just some cardio machines, some light weights, some floor mats, some hard and soft boxes, some bars for pull-ups, etc. Simple but with room to move. Charge me extra. Maybe a shower too.
On our upcoming flight, we are going First Class thanks to the gift of miles from my in-laws. Still I'd take a gym over the bigger seat and the legroom - because I am not a sitter. As for airplane food, regardless of class, no thanks. Grab a sandwich or a yoghurt in the airport. And they toss you this crap as if you were some starving dog in a dog shelter.
When I told my trainer about this desire for airplane gyms, he emailed me the below. I think that flight was wasted without a girlfriend or wife to spice it up. This dude is a jackass:
I am all in favor of "functional fitness." Beginning around 35, the human body begins to deteriorate. Unless you are a competitive athlete, fitness is for daily life. One of my daughters was talking about fitness this weekend and opined that a Div 1 singles tennis match was a good work-out. I asked "Are you sure?" After a moment's thought she revised her opinion: No, I guess the physical training is the prep/work-out, and the competition is just the reward.
Playing sports is mostly calisthenics at best. Many sports require strength and athleticism, but actually playing the game is not the same as a work-out. Think baseball, or the several seconds of effort in a football game. Training is for life and games, but they are not training.
As I said, it sounds like great fun and challenge and bonding but it amounts to heavy calisthenics, which is just one of the three components, in my view, of a balanced fitness program.
If that's what people want...however, I think people just wonder which is the more unpleasant individual. Only wonks worry about policy. Politics is high school.
Dylan isn’t really a poet. He’s a troubadour. Do even his most ardent admirers—among whom I count myself—spend much time reading his work? I think not. For the most part, his words cough and stumble across the page, though they scald and soar in song. Combining his lyrics with music produces an alchemic reaction in which the two elements strengthen and transform each other. Dylan has rightly won every prize in the book as a songwriter, but his songs are not literature...
Yes, they can scald and soar when he sings them. I mainly refer to his lyrics to avoid getting a mondegreen in my head. I had one with Jokerman when I thought it was "with a small dark look in his face." That was pretty good, but Dylan's was better: "...with a small dog licking his face."
To make this election even more bizarre is the way the press has ignored the biggest story in political history since Watergate. The Wikileaks stuff is explosive. It is what political reporters used to pray for, back when we had political reporters. The stuff in those e-mails is the sort of stuff that used to end careers and bring down governments. Despite the caterwauling from the stray moonbat, the media has ignored the story, preferring to spend all their time talking about the Trump bimbo hoax.
We drove down from the Dolomiti and the Alps to Verona, which is immediately south of the foothills. Straight shot on the Autostrada (#22). Nice little Renaissance town. We stayed in the Old City (an old Roman city on the bend of the Aldige River) instead of venturing out into the modern city (pop. 275,000). Tourists hang around the old city, but plenty of Italians come into the old city for fun and shopping.
Verona is a charming old town, walkably-manageable in size although we did get a little lost walking out to see St. Zeno. Getting lost is not a bad thing because you see things. It is a bitch to drive into, though, once you get off the highway. Cops keep yelling at you for going the wrong way. Gotta laugh.
The Passagiata in Verona is wonderful, between 5 and 8 pm. It's a town of lovely women of all ages, and the Italian men look great with their fitted shirts and tailoring. We tourist men, not so great. All the kids in strollers and backpacks look good, and the women look feminine. Lots of real blondes in northern Italia.
In my view, all women and all men ought to try to look their best, in public at least. Being over 40 or 50 doesn't mean that you are dead. I just have no talent for style. I shoulda brought my red trousers with me.
Dinner is around 8-8:30, and afterwards the young and/or single people, looking good, fill the narrow streets and piazzas - I call them pizzas - and bars with laughter and flirtation. A jolly scene. Women hold hands, men kiss. Everybody drinks and smokes.
La dolce vita.
Lots more pics below the fold - Mrs. BD thought our lady readers might enjoy the clothing shops -
I go every 3 yrs when my doc gets pissed at me for not coming in. I hate it. I do like him, though and I understand that he needs some money to keep me on his roster.
Today’s Orange County: Not Right Wing—and Kinda Hip - Immigrants
have dramatically altered the California county that was a birthplace
of conservatism. But two things haven’t changed: perfect weather, and
the beach.
An October surprise timed to maximally hurt the Republican candidate is no surprise at all. It is so predictable that the term “October surprise” has become commonplace.
It is no news, either, that the MSM tries to elect the Democrat. No news at all.
The Clintons are attracted to corruption the way that flies are drawn to offal. The media can spot no flies on Hillary. Its fact checkers excuse every scandal. They even invent a positive spin for a fly landing on her. The ordinary fly visiting Hillary may hold no special meaning. But flies are notoriously attracted to rotting things. And no political figures in this country are as rotten to the core as the Clintons.
Women used to be praised as a civilizing influence on men, bringing the responsibilities of love and loyalty to marriage and children. Hillary has spent her adult life enabling the most irresponsible men on the block, thereby setting an example for a whole generation of Millennials, who have now created a pickup scene that is surprisingly depressing. Millennials seem to get that they could stay home to watch fantasy porn on the web instead of being with real human beings. Fantasies are more hygienic, and they never disappoint. "Can I pick you up?" is inevitably followed by "Where will I drop you off?"
If you were to add up the number of killings by people in pursuit of what they think are moral aims, whether it’s personal vengeance, implementing justice, or hastening a utopia or messianic age, the body count would surely be higher than the victims of amoral predation and exploitation.
That’s why pure moralism does more harm than good, and why a legitimate moral concern with human welfare must work together with a scientific drive to understand the causes of wrongdoing. If, as moralists, our responsibility is to reduce suffering and enhance flourishing, then the most powerful way to do that is through analytic engagement: moral philosophy, reasoned jurisprudence, legal scholarship, and the sciences of human nature. When we can say what makes us tick, we can rearrange our environments in ways that inhibit aggression and enhance empathy, compassion and reason.
Busted pipe, flooded basement last May. We have three 1/2 rooms down there: a bedroom with good windows and bath, a pantry, and two storage rooms (one for tools and hunting and boating stuff, and one for general saved stuff). Mostly finished rooms. Allstate sent their teams over for a couple of months and it's all better than it was before. We never had to lift a finger. Now we have a water-warning system. Thanks, Allstate.
The new pantry (minus the old second fridge which had to be cut up to get out of there. Can't live without a Sawzall.):
"Government is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force; like fire, a troublesome servant and a fearful master. Never for a moment should it be left to irresponsible action."
A lot is packed into this seemingly simple blues song. 1964. I can tell you what it's about, but not now. You can start with the image of a mail train if you know what they looked like. When Bob was young, they were around in Duluth if not in Hibbing.
Never look for good character in politicians. They indeed are our inferiors in most cases. The Citizen is King. Mrs. BD makes a distinction between 2 sorts of Presidential Sins. A Venial Presidential Sin is hitting too hard on females. Mortal Presidential Sins are lying to investigators, secret emails, uranium to Russia, creating instability in the world, etc.
The old Hospital of St. Katherine Brewery, with a delightful beergarden on the bank of the Danube in pleasant Regensburg. Like many beer joints in Bavaria, they make their brews on premises and throw out the unused after one week.
Regensburg, interestingly, marked the northermost outpost of the Roman Empire. Augustus visited there, and I hope he had some brew.
You stroll over the c. 1100 stone bridge to get to the Spital brewery and beer garden. The lad and I went over the bridge a couple of years ago and hoisted a couple of their fresh brews. I never should have had their Bock, delicious as it was. The steins are large, of course.
We recommend that town for classic German food and drink, many medieval remnants, and some old Roman walls and stuff. Not a touristy town like Salzburg, just a fine small Bavarian city where you can walk everywhere.
Why this post? Cuz I was drinking my protein shake out of a Spital stein I picked up there. Yes, I paid a euro or two for it, as a souvenir. It says SPITAL...Regensburg...Seit 1225. That's an old brewery.
That is the 
Chuck Berry, pioneer of rock and roll, 
Harambe Costumes 
Roll On Bob
Image via 
Harvard’s New Diversity Veto:
