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.
Always show up. Cocktail parties, neighborhood parties, church, weddings, funerals, club events, professional meetings, interviews, volunteering, community activities and events.
Even if these things are not your cup of tea - which, for many guys, they are not - at least one good thing comes out of each attendance. I guarantee it. This is not a mercenary attitude. It's an attitude of connection and respect. Except for funerals, I always go somewhat grudgingly because I am naturally taciturn without much to say but I am never sorry that I did "suit up and show up," and at least tried to be engaging and humorous.
I bring this up because I have had several highly serendipitous encounters in the past couple of weeks which have been good fun for me and will be helpful to my kids' lives.
My life, and the lives of our kids, would be quite different if they, and I, did not apply the Woody Allen theory: "70% of success is showing up." My second great job came from a random show-up, and our dearest friends today came from random meets in friendly surroundings.
Come to think of it, meeting the future Mrs. BD was highly random and would never have occurred under normal circumstances. That was good, because otherwise the mate might have been a more socially-predictable and ultimately boring one. One must make space to let serendipity happen.
...but along the way, decided to try singing lessons too.
Besides hitting his notes (his "Cs" which my ear has trouble appreciating), I especially enjoy his ability to switch from attack mode - hitting the lyrics with terrible, biting force - to the soft and lyrical. Larger than life. Heard him once at the Met with Sutherland, forget in what role, when young. My parents always liked to bring me along.
The dynamic in America has always been that the Progressives yank the window toward some fringe issue. The normals would grudgingly go along, kicking and screaming, so that the Overton Window gradually shifted in the direction of the loonies. All of a sudden, the normals appear to have simply let go of it. Set loose of that tether, the American Left is rocketing off into madness. There’s really no other way to describe the trannies in the bathroom business. It’s madness.
The Democrats are now the anti-white party and the anti-male party. In a country that is 70% white and 50% male, that’s going to be a losing hand in the long run. Having a shriveled hag as your candidate makes the task impossible.
Pic below of the High Line last Sunday. I was one of the people who thought the whole idea was stupid. The entire length of the old elevated railroad is now open, from the distant view of the Statue of Liberty in the meatpacking district up to the Javits Center.
A few more pics below the fold -
3.1
Million New Immigrants Arrived Over the Past 2 Years - See more at:
https://www.conservativereview.com/commentary/2016/06/new-analysis-over-3-million-new-immigrants-arrived-over-the-past-2-years#sthash.1Rw9Fb8Z.dpuf
Thanks for identifying that tree yesterday. It indeed does turn out to be an Ashe Magnolia, a wild magnolia seen mostly in southern woodlands but which can be found as far north as Ohio. They seem quite happy in NYC.
Talk to a cop that works the ghetto and he’ll be the most cynical guy you will meet. The reason is he spends his days working cases that have no rational explanation. Ray-Ray pops Darius one night not because of a business beef. No, Ray-Ray did not like the way Darius looked at him at a cookout so he walked up on him and started blasting. Sometimes, there’s simply no reason at all. Ray-Ray just decided to kill Darius “cause he got to go.”
We consider curls, whether dumbbell or bar, to serve an aesthetic purpose more than functional muscle development. Biceps and brachialis are not highly-functional muscles but, unless over-developed, sturdy ones look good to females. That's why they are Curls for Girls. (Of course, toned arms on women likewise look good to men.)
Vanity of vanities...
The opposing muscle, Triceps, is a much more functional one so if you strengthen triceps you have to balance it with some biceps development.
Following orders, I did a very tough sequence of barbell curls this morning: A sequence of one to ten curls with 7-second rest between. (ie, 1 curl, 7 second rest; 2 curls, 7 second rest, up to 10). Then, after a one minute rest, backwards down from 10 to 1.
After that, picking up a coffee cup is a challenge.
I’ve said for years that transsexuals are delusional amputation fetishists, and way too many are manipulative narcissistic bullies and liars, and often prone to violence.
That if they really do commit suicide in epidemic numbers, that’s because, well, they’re clearly insane.
Voters in Austin rejected a measure that would overturn onerous regulations that Uber and Lyft said would force them out of the city. You can imagine what happened next.
It turns out that married women are twice as happy as single women. This is a biological fact of life. The females of our species are wired to seek out a high status male, with whom they build a life-long bond. From the point of view of nature, this guarantees the greatest chance of reproductive success. Since it is vastly easier for a young adult female to land a suitable mate than it is for a middle-aged female, getting married early makes the most sense. Sure, the man could be a dud, but there are no guarantees in life.
It is tough for me to see a fire in NYC without its having mental inks with 9/11. We watched this fire from the High Line on Sun. afternoon. It is plain inspiring to watch those firemen march in a line up the ladder to the roof. The fire rapidly got worse than my photo, got too smokey so we moved along.
...For this purpose, Clinton, working with Webster Hubbell and Vince Foster, stole hard copies of the billing records of the Rose law firm where they were partners. They erased the electronic version of these records. One set of the documents was later found in the White House, just outside Hillary’s private office, by an employee. Another set was found in Foster’s attic by his widow, some years after he committed suicide. Clinton’s time sheets (handwritten, as was the practice back in the day) were never found.
The theft of the billing records occurred on March 7, 1992. It was then that a story on Whitewater/Castle Grande by New York Times reporter Jeff Gerth “hit the wire.” That night, Rose Law Firm documents were passed to a Clinton campaign aide in the firm’s parking lot.
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour As one man more, methinks, would share from me For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made And crowns for convoy put into his purse: We would not die in that man’s company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call’d the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors, And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’ Then he will strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’ Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, But he’ll remember with advantages What feats he did that day: then shall our names Familiar in his mouth as household words: Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d, This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
Prof. B. explained why reds should be chilled a bit before serving, especially in the summer - assuming the bottles are not coming from your underground or temperature-controlled wine cellar. 55-62 degrees F, max. That's not "room temperature."
I think The Prof is absolutely right, but I had never thought it through. No wine tastes good at 76 degrees. Hot grape juice isn't good either. (my Dad calls wine "grape juice" even if it's '81 Petrus).
Same thing applies to old Ports, I think.
Rich folks have wine refrigerators that keep each type of wine at its own preferred temp. If you have one, surely you deserve to be more highly taxed.
People worry about honeybee populations, but for no good reason.
Honeybees (Apis mellifera) were imported to North America for agriculture: for honey and to help pollinate the European imported crops (eg apples, pears). Honeybees are superior to native bees for human purposes because their tribes are larger and tend to stay put longer. Occasionally, a honeybee group will try to go wild but they are usually tracked and caught by beekeepers. They are easy to track down and catch.
(I have spent three weeks hunting and killing - with Raid -the Carpenter bees which want to destroy my house. Big, wonderful bees and excellent pollinators but they eat your house.)
7:1 After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum.
7:2 A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly, and who was ill and close to death.
7:3 When he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave.
7:4 When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him earnestly, saying, "He is worthy of having you do this for him,
7:5 for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us."
7:6 And Jesus went with them, but when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, "Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof;
7:7 therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed.
7:8 For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, 'Go,' and he goes, and to another, 'Come,' and he comes, and to my slave, 'Do this,' and the slave does it."
7:9 When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, "I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith."
7:10 When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.
The experts say it takes a year of training for a middle-aged person to wake the body up and get into half-decent Beginner's shape, and two years to be "fit for life" for your age and build (ie "fit" for a regular person, not for a serious athlete, lifter, or body-builder).
By training, that means two hours/week of steadily increasing weights, one hour of heavy calisthenics, and 1 to 2 hours of interval cardio/endurance with some calisthenics. Plus fat loss if needed via a food plan. That's not maintenance, it's training.
It is a mental and physical adventure. At my one year point, I understand what the experts mean by two years. Functionally, and looking in the mirror like Narcissus, I know exactly what they are talking about. At first, I lost almost 15 lbs of blubber that I did not know I had. After 6 months, I began adding a bit of that back in muscle and sinew so my old cadaver has a different shape. Started at 172, now 162.
Thus, at one year out, I am now prepped to begin to work my hardest. Mysteriously, slowly, my brain and will have engaged my musculature and my physical determination, discovering resources I did not know that I had. A cool experience to fully engage with, and conquer, Mr. Fatigue and Mr. Give Up.
Two themes seem to dominate Commencement speeches. One is shameless self-advertising by people in government, or in related organizations supported by the taxpayers or donors, saying how nobler it is to be in "public service" than working in business or other "selfish" activities.
In other words, the message is that it is morally superior to be in organizations consuming output produced by others than to be in organizations which produce that output. Moreover, being morally one-up is where it's at...
U.S. dynamism is in the dumps: Americans are less likely to switch jobs,
move to another state, or create new companies than they were 30 years
ago (or 100 years ago). What’s going on?
Yes, Guardian - everything is a canary in a coal mine. Fact is, the honeybee is a non-native, agricultural critter imported for beehives. Never meant to live in the northern US. Cold winters kill them.
Steyn may not live to see the conclusion: 
Pic from around W 14th St. last weekend, with the wonderful Chelsea Market, housed in an old Nabisco factory, in back 
Women 
Prof. B. explained why 
People worry about honeybee populations, but for no good reason.
The experts say it takes a year of training for a middle-aged person to wake the body up and get into half-decent Beginner's shape, and two years to be "fit for life" for your age and build (ie "fit" for a regular person, not for a serious athlete, lifter, or body-builder).
White Man's Game: 