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.
Pic: We ain't taking sides, because, for one thing, we have Alabama relatives. For another, we believe that rooting for teams is rooting for laundry - in Seinfeld's immortal words. I just liked this photo. But what the heck, it's all about money and fun and athletic talent, which are all good things. But "Brian Kelly" - sheesh. Irish enuf? Are you kidding me?
A dear church brother died Christmas week, an older guy and friend of over 20 years. A fellow who embodied the notion that Christianity is caught, not taught, because his joy, peace, manly innocence of heart, and love, were contagious.
As far as he was concerned, whoever he met was a child of God. Even me. Did not care about your flaws. This is not funeral exaggeration. I have never known a man quite like him. Some people are selected to be the "angels" - the messengers - not by preaching but by being what and who they are. Coffee hour will never be the same for me.
Church packed to the rafters, violating all fire laws, with all of the people Christ touched through this humble, gentle man who also, but secondarily, happened to be a very successful corporate exec and the author of at least ten books. Even when ill unto death, he only wanted to make you feel better. He knew about loss. In his medical travails, he only wanted to be the comforter.
We sang his favorite hymn at his memorial service yesterday. The story behind that hymn is on this Youtube. Lyrics here.
That's how I do ribeyes - crusty on the outside, rare inside. A grill does not do justice to good Costco ribeyes. One per person, please. A real treat.
It's termed "Liberal fascism." They are certain that they are wiser than us humble, feckless, ignorant citizens masses who can barely tie our own shoes. Harry Reid?!?!?
We live in a world that has lost touch with the very idea of hard choices. That even in the richest and most prosperous country in the world, you still have to choose one or the other. That you can't have you cake and eat it too. But as the hard edges of reason have blurred into the haze of wishful thinking, the idea of mutually incompatible choices also fades away. Soon there are no choices, only options.
Road Song of The Ban-Dar-Log (from The Jungle Books. h/t, reader. The Bandur-log are Langur monkeys)
Here we go in a flung festoon, Half-way up to the jealous moon! Don’t you envy our pranceful bands? Don’t you wish you had extra hands? Wouldn’t you like if your tails were–so– Curved in the shape of a Cupid’s bow?
Now you’re angry, but–never mind, Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
Here we sit in a branchy row, Thinking of beautiful things we know; Dreaming of deeds that we mean to do, All complete, in a minute or two– Something noble and wise and good, Done by merely wishing we could.
We’ve forgotten, but–never mind, Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
All the talk we ever have heard Uttered by bat or beast or bird– Hide or fin or scale or feather– Jabber it quickly and all together! Excellent! Wonderful! Once again! Now we are talking just like men!
Let’s pretend we are ... never mind, Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
This is the way of the Monkey-kind. Then join our leaping lines that scumfish through the pines, That rocket by where, light and high, the wild grape swings. By the rubbish in our wake, and the noble noise we make, Be sure, be sure, we’re going to do some splendid things!
Why "Shepherd's"? Because it is traditionally made with ground lamb or mutton. That's how Alton Brown makes it.
Americans use ground beef, usually. Ground mutton is not a typical supermarket item. Go ahead and use instant mashed potato if you must - the recipe don't care.
I am hoping some Mom will try each of the recipes in this series, and report back on family response.
Krauthammer: Return of the Real Obama - The president is dedicated to the expansion of the welfare state:
Now he’s won. The old Obama is back. He must not be underestimated. He has deftly leveraged his class-war-themed election victory (a) to secure a source of funding (albeit still small) for the bloated welfare state, (b) to carry out an admirably candid bit of income redistribution, and (c) to fracture the one remaining institutional obstacle to the rest of his ideological agenda.
The Mommys of America commonly made winter casseroles using cans of Campbell's soups. Mushroom soup, especially. We're getting into Hotdish territory here.
In the good old days, eating in restaurants was not routine as it is now, but instead was a special treat for birthdays and anniversaries. Take-out Chinese, much less Thai or sushi, did not exist. Moms used to have food budgets, but no more because good food has, blessedly, become such a small component of an American family budget.
I sure hope moms still make stuff like this: Easy Creamy Chicken Casserole because it is good, and heart-warming. Ritz cracker topping. Wow. Put it on white rice.
Then home-made chocolate pudding for dessert with Jiffy Whip or Cool Whip on top. Perfection. Thanks, Moms of America!
Our pal Sipp crawled into his well-air-conditioned office in Maine to offer this thought about the blue house pics I posted on Tuesday night:
That's a beautiful house. Front-gabled Greek Revival. Mid-1800s. It was so common it was called the "National Style" back then. After the War of 1812, Americans didn't want to build their houses in the Adam (British) style anymore. They were captivated by the Greek War of Independence from the Ottomans, and got interested in everything ancient Greek because it was considered a chaste, proto-Roman civilization. I can't see all that much in the pictures for evidence of what's going on, but the house in the front is original. The big thing in the back was probably a barn at first. That huge chimney on the barn is pretty modern. It was probably attached to the main house by the ell you see between them. (In Maine, they called something similar Little House, Big House, Back House, Barn, with the little house being the "ell" and being built first) The ell might have been one-story at first. When horses and servants went out of fashion, the barn was turned into more house, most likely, and a second floor added to the ell to have unfettered access back and forth. The wart on the side might have been an open porch, or been missing entirely at first. Nobody ganged windows like that back then.
I doubt that big house in back was ever a barn, but I get the point.
How good is this little patch, up high above the Connecticut river? You have several of your basic old-timey styles, and I'd bet they were all built by the same family on the same lot over time and generations (no estate taxes and no zoning then), middle one first - I'd guess around 1750-1780:
US Marine Pens Viral Letter to Anti-Gun Senator Dianne Feinstein: “No Ma’am”:
I am not your subject. I am the man who keeps you free. I am not your servant. I am the person whom you serve.
I am not your peasant. I am the flesh and blood of America. I am the man who fought for my country. I am the man who learned. I am an American. You will not tell me that I must register my semi-automatic AR-15 because of the actions of some evil man.
And cold, beady-eyed Red-Tails hunkering in the trees.
It's always been a challenge for me to capture the features of a Black Lab's face. How about you?
That "6 and a half" year-old tags along to learn about hunting and dog-handling. He can handle a .22, however. Start them young, and keep the country traditions alive before they become overly-citified, overly-metrosexualized, and overly-computerized.
More Yankeeland architectural pics tomorrow. One aspect of the traditional ethos is to make a home appear humbler and smaller, than it is. One way to do that is to make them narrow in the front, but to run on in the back with endless additions and attachments.
This is not an inn, it's a family homestead. Could have been an inn at some point in history. Here's the full view, behind the trees, Hard to determine which part came first, but Sipp can probably explain the cobbling here. I tend to guess that the Federal front part came second, but I can't be sure:
Good advice, for bloggers and for everyone, from Wizbang:
Never say anything you would not be willing to repeat under oath.
Never say or write anything you would not want to see plastered across the front page of the newspaper.
Never write when you can speak.
Never speak when you can nod.
Never nod when you can wink
Well, I am not a winker but I would add, as lawyers always advise, "Say it in flowers, say it in mink, but never, ever, say it in ink." I'm afraid that I break all of these rules, daily, as I have a perverse tendency to actively resist PC just for the fun of it. Fortunately, I have no employer to object. That's the Maggie's Ideal Way of Life.
"The encouragement of a proper hunting spirit, a proper love of sport, instead of being incompatible with a love of nature and wild things, offers the best guaranty of their preservation."
Theodore Roosevelt
Pic is Emeril's roast pheasants on wild-mushroom bread pudding. A wild mushroom risotto would be good as an alternative, or mashed taters.
I am bird-hunting today with Gwynnie, a real dog, and some friends. 20 ga., not binoculars. Hope our readers have a fine and jolly day too. I am in fine fettle, having only indulged in one beer last night, and early to bed. With a little luck, some pheasants for a late dinner tonight and a little vino.
Where the heck did Bob acquire that phony accent? That's not how people talk in Duluth. OK, I know. He is a self-invention. Our best wishes to ol' Bob, too.
There is a fixed amount of good things. Life is a pizza. If some people have too many slices, other people have to eat the pizza box. You had no answer to Mitt Romney's argument for more pizza parlors baking more pizzas. The solution to our problems, you said, is redistribution of the pizzas we've got—with low-cost, government-subsidized pepperoni somehow materializing as the result of higher taxes on pizza-parlor owners
Frederick II (26 December 1194 – 13 December 1250), was one of the most powerful Holy Roman Emperors of the Middle Ages and head of the House of Hohenstaufen. His political and cultural ambitions, based in Sicily and stretching through Italy to Germany, and even to Jerusalem, were enormous. However, his enemies, especially the popes, prevailed, and his dynasty collapsed soon after his death. Historians have searched for superlatives to describe him, as in the case of Professor Donald Detwiler, who wrote:
A man of extraordinary culture, energy, and ability – called by a contemporary chronicler stupor mundi (the wonder of the world), by Nietzsche, the first European, and by many historians the first modern ruler – Frederick established in Sicily and southern Italy something very much like a modern, centrally governed kingdom with an efficient bureaucracy
Pic: We ain't taking sides, because, for one thing, we have Alabama relatives. For another, we believe that rooting for teams is rooting for laundry - in Seinfeld's immortal words. I just liked this photo. But what the heck, it's all about money and fun and athletic talent, which are all good things. But "Brian Kelly" - sheesh. Irish enuf? Are you kidding me?
Report: 
Road Song of The Ban-Dar-Log (from The Jungle Books. h/t, reader. The Bandur-log are Langur monkeys)
The Brits and Aussies call it "Cottage Pie." 
The 
The Mommys of America commonly made winter casseroles using cans of Campbell's soups. Mushroom soup, especially. We're getting into Hotdish territory here.
Between the woods and frozen lake, on Tuesday
When 
"The encouragement of a proper hunting spirit, a proper love of sport, instead of being incompatible with a love of nature and wild things, offers the best guaranty of their preservation." 
US on Pace for 
How To Be an Overachiever
Quite a