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.
In the seventies, not to put too fine a point on it, everyone was still alive. Martha Graham and Agnes de Mille were no longer making great work, but they were vivid, high-profile totems. Antony Tudor had one more great ballet in him: 1974’s The Leaves Are Fading. Robert Joffrey and his Joffrey Ballet were going full speed ahead, an audience-friendly ballet troupe that toured the country like a young, hip, and sometimes hippie version of the old Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo. Alvin Ailey, Eliot Feld, and Arthur Mitchell had companies that brought different demographics to the theater, and Merce Cunningham and Paul Taylor finally had national stature and repertoires that placed them in the pantheon. Twyla Tharp was coming into her own, bringing her melting-pot style and antagonistic syntax to the mainstream when she choreographed Push Comes to Shove in 1974 for ABT and Baryshnikov. Meanwhile, at NYCB, Jerome Robbins was experimenting with different forms of narrative (Watermill, Dybbuk), and Balanchine was deep into the late phase of his genius, putting on festivals—Stravinsky in 1972, Ravel in 1975—and tossing off blockbuster ballets like Union Jack in 1976 and Vienna Waltzes in 1977. Vienna Waltzes, according to Kirstein, would rank as the company’s “most successful” ballet. “For four seasons every performance scheduled was sold out,” he wrote. “It brought into the theater a new public, many of whom had certainly never been in the State Theater before.”
Couple all this creative energy with cheap rents—for no artistic discipline needs as much space, from class to rehearsal to performance, as dance does—and you had yet another reason for the dance boom.
From a choice of offers, the lad has accepted a new interesting "opportunity" (as jobs are termed, these days) in NYC.
Now I will have two kids working there, plus one beloved daughter-in-law. It's all good.
I tend to think that all ambitious young folks need to do some time in the Big City, whatever their field, if only to find out what high energy and high demands and sharp elbows really mean. I did, and it didn't hurt me none. Well, maybe a few narcissistic scars, but that's good for one's character. If you haven't been introduced to your flaws, weaknesses, and deficiencies yet, NY will happily introduce you to them - and tax the heck out of you for the privilege. I think it's worth it. At least for a while.
Pic is Manhattan from the Whitestone Bridge at dawn, on my way to some airport
Country folk call them "Fisher cats," and blame them for the decline of Ruffed Grouse populations in the Northeast (about which they are wrong. Grouse and Fishers coexisted for millennia. I blame the grouse population drops on fire suppression, habitat loss - and the dang Coyotes who would not be here had we not killed all of the wolves).
Fishers are large members of the weasel family (the Mustelidae - stoats, badgers, otters, martens, mink, weasels, wolverines) - kinda like mini-Wolverines.
With the return of woodlands and the decline of fur trapping, Fisher populations are rebounding in the northern US, especially in New England (same as with the Black Bear). They are one of the few animals that kills Porcupines.
The day I met O'Reilly it was 32 below; The sparks were flying off me pick, I was up to me neck in snow. His footsteps shook the basement slab, I saw the sky go black As he roared out, "I'm your ganger now, so dig until you crack.''
He was bigger than a dumper truck with legs like concrete piles, His face was like a load of bricks, his teeth were six inch files. His eyes, they shone like danger lamps, his hands were tough as steel, But a man as small as that was never a match for Big McNeill.
When tea came round at dinner-time, he grabbed a gallon tin, But I said, "Better put that down, if you would save your skin. You may be called O'Reilly but I will to you reveal That the cup you've got your hands on, it belongs to Big McNeill.''
Well, he laughed at me and carried on as if I hadn't spoke. He said, ``A man from Dublin Town can always take a joke.'' But when he picked a shovel up, wee Jimmy gave a squeal "You'd better leave that teaspoon, it belongs to Big McNeill.''
Well, everything the ganger touched we said to leave alone, Or else McNeill would grind him up and make plaster of his bones. At last O'Reilly lost his head and said he'd make a meal Out of any labourer in the squad, especially Big McNeill.
We said McNeill was sick in bed and told him where to go. The boys all downed their tools and went along to watch the show, And when we got to Renfrew Street, wee Jimmy danced a reel, To see him thundering at the door to fight the Big McNeill.
When the ganger got inside he saw a monster on the bed, A mound as big as a stanchion base with a barrel size of head. He punched it and he thumped it and he hit about with zeal, 'Til the missus cried: "Don't hurt the child, or else I'll tell McNeill.''
He was bigger than a dumper truck With legs like concrete piles, His face was like a load of bricks, His teeth were six inch files, His eyes, they shone like danger lamps, His hands were tough as steel, But a man as small as that was never A match for Big McNeill.
THE INTOLERANCE of the avant-garde. “That helps to explain why the ideas of the avant garde have been the same for more than a century, and why, today, avant garde means defending the statist status quo.”
I believe (Jesse) Jackson and company are intentionally distorting the truth, misleading, manipulating and abusing the American people. They have been getting away with it for far too long. It is time they are called out and held politically accountable.
Krugman and the Times editorial board are both examples of something important in American life today: left-liberal intellectuals are increasingly able to understand that individual supports of the blue social model are crumbling. But they are still so captivated by the blue model, so profoundly convinced that the Progressive movement’s solutions to America’s social ills in 1910 are still valid today, that they cannot yet look beyond the blue model to imagine a different and brighter future for the United States.
“The government decides to try to increase the middle class by subsidizing things that middle class people have: If middle-class people go to college and own homes, then surely if more people go to college and own homes, we’ll have more middle-class people.
But homeownership and college aren’t causes of middle-class status, they’re markers for possessing the kinds of traits — self-discipline, the ability to defer gratification, etc. — that let you enter, and stay, in the middle class. Subsidizing the markers doesn’t produce the traits; if anything, it undermines them.”
"This General Assembly will not be intimidated by nomadic bands of professional agitators on spring break bent on disruption," he said. "We talk through our differences here. Tennessee is not Wisconsin."
How close did we get to the Humpback whales last week, on the Zodiac? Almost close enough to touch them. You can see another one underwater, swimming under the Zodiac. Friendly whales who like to interact with Zodiacs.
Sipp: Marketing, Advertising, and Sales 101. Great video ad for Telluride. Skiied there one week, a few years ago. Great. I hate the chair lifts without bars, though, especially when you're going over canyons. Yikes. I still have the Osprey backpack I bought there for dumping kids' clothing in when it warmed up during the day, and things were shed. You find challenging and exciting skiing there. Same as tennis: keep those knees bent.
The BD family contains avid snorkelers, but only Mrs. BD is a skilled scuba diver. But even snorkeling, she can swim down 20 feet easily to inspect something. Loves it.
But about the peas. On good advice we bought a big bag of frozen peas at the Cabo WalMart, filled a plastic water bottle with them and then added water to the bottle. When you are diving or snorkeling near rocks or a reef, just squirt a few peas out of that bottle. You will be swarmed with tropical fish. Works like a dream. Like tossing bread to pigeons in a park. Fish were crashing into me, some over a foot long, and one bit Mrs. BD while trying to get to the pea bottle. Very cool thing to try. Wish I had had an underwater camera.
We had to go on a goofy party boat to get to a good snorkeling area, and they provided the equipment. Unlimited free drinks. It was jolly. On the way back, Mrs. BD danced the Macarena and YMCA without touching a drop of drink (not a photo of her). I didn't, and I did.
Met the pupette in NYC yesterday to take her to brunch and to take her to look at some Kandinsky at the Guggenheim. Clever of those Guggenheims to buy so many Kandinskys before he became too well-known, but you have to figger they got rich by being perceptive.
Readers know that I am a Kandinsky fan.
Mrs. BD wanted to get lunch first at the Viennese cafe, Cafe Sabarsky, in the Neue Gallery up the street. Having been in Vienna last summer, I can say that it sure feels like Vienna in there. Wonderful. Gallery worth visiting too.
Not that he needs one. There's a line waiting down the sidewalk for supper at Maro's, for his simple menu of grilled shrimp and lobster. And for his Bulldog cocktails. It's like a rustic Cape Cod seafood joint.
It's not our Yankee lobster - it's the lobster that grows down there. Yes, you order by the kilo.
When your FICA tax is taken out of your paycheck, it does not get squirreled away in some lockbox in West Virginia where it's kept until you and your contemporaries retire. Most goes out immediately to pay current retirees, and the rest (say, $100) goes to the U.S. Treasury - and is spent. On roads, bridges, national defense, public television, whatever - spent, gone.
Well, it's our church's Men's Ski (and beer) Retreat weekend at Killington, and I think maybe our Women's Retreat Weekend too somewhere else. But we're just back from 8 days away, so we passed on them this year. I have not skied once this year. Damn shame, because it gives me the greatest joy to wrestle and sweat with a mountain and the trees in the snow and cold. Plus I really need new skis if I intend to stick with this crazy, exhilarating lifelong recreation of mine.
Finishing our Iris week with this tune. It reminds me of Roger McGuinn - another good Jesus freak.
4:1 Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.
4:2 He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.
4:3 The tempter came and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread."
4:4 But he answered, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"
4:5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple,
4:6 saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'"
4:7 Jesus said to him, "Again it is written, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"
4:8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor;
4:9 and he said to him, "All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me."
4:10 Jesus said to him, "Away with you, Satan! for it is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'"
4:11 Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.
Catrina dolls and other wonderful death dolls at Mi Casa Restaurant. They are hand-made, of painted clay appropriately enough, and expensive.
Whever I want something but have no use for it and don't want to spend the $, I just take a snap of it. Then I own it, in a way. I am trying to teach Mrs. BD that approach to things - symbolic possession by internalizing an image or idea. But does it work for designer shoes?
You do not have to be Tocqueville to recognize that the fundamental American character has always featured a powerful determination to get ahead, to build a better future on the basis of current effort and sacrifice. It is not sectional ethnic animosity that stands in the way of implementing socialism in the United States, it is the fundamental American character and the values and attitudes that the country was built upon.
We are not Canada, not because we have blacks, but because we are the rebels who threw off the yoke of monarchy in favor of Liberty and individualism, and Canada was, practically speaking, founded by the Tories who preferred being subjects and dependents. We will never be Canada.
It's all about buying votes in Iowa. Ethanol belongs in beer and cocktails. I don't know why they don't call it "alcohol" - or moonshine, because that's what the pols want us to inflict on our teetotaling chain saws, lawn mowers, and outboard engines.