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.
We'll put his in the same hole as Mom's, not far from the church and the trout stream.
Ashes to ashes.
Dad forbade any ceremoniousness or anything religious and forbade any memorial events, so we kids will just dig a hole and have our own thoughts. Then we'll pick some of his apples and pears, and eat them as if a sort of family communion.
She studies love and desire but sometimes wanders off-topic. Some of what she says is obvious (most people like cheap thrills) but some of it is interesting.
Basically, it cannot be done. You'll starve to death.
Somewhat related to that post is a film recommendation from my sis: Happy People. She wondered why they don't just go on the dole and drink like the Eskimos do.
Rep. Henry Waxman (D.-Calif.) (AP Photo/Jacquelyn Martin)
(CNSNews.com) – When asked by CNSNews.com whether he had read all
10,535 pages of final Obamacare regulations that have so far been
published in the Federal Register, Rep. Henry Waxman (D-Calif.)
asked in return whether it was "important" the he read them, dismissed
the inquiry as a "propaganda question," and did not ultimately anwer.
CNSNews.com: "What I was going to ask you is if you've read those [10,535 pages] of regulations."
Waxman said: “Have you read them?”
CNSNews.com: "No. Have you read them?"
Waxman said: “Is it important that I read it?”
- See more at:
http://cnsnews.com/news/article/penny-starr/waxman-10535-pages-obamacare-regs-it-important-i-read-it#sthash.GvW1C8YG.dpuf
Rep. Henry Waxman (D.-Calif.) (AP Photo/Jacquelyn Martin)
(CNSNews.com) – When asked by CNSNews.com whether he had read all
10,535 pages of final Obamacare regulations that have so far been
published in the Federal Register, Rep. Henry Waxman (D-Calif.)
asked in return whether it was "important" the he read them, dismissed
the inquiry as a "propaganda question," and did not ultimately anwer.
CNSNews.com: "What I was going to ask you is if you've read those [10,535 pages] of regulations."
Waxman said: “Have you read them?”
CNSNews.com: "No. Have you read them?"
Waxman said: “Is it important that I read it?”
- See more at:
http://cnsnews.com/news/article/penny-starr/waxman-10535-pages-obamacare-regs-it-important-i-read-it#sthash.GvW1C8YG.dpuf
Waxman
on 10,535 Pages of Obamacare Regs: ‘Is It Important That I Read It?’ -
See more at:
http://cnsnews.com/news/article/penny-starr/waxman-10535-pages-obamacare-regs-it-important-i-read-it#sthash.GvW1C8YG.dpuf
Waxman
on 10,535 Pages of Obamacare Regs: ‘Is It Important That I Read It?’ -
See more at:
http://cnsnews.com/news/article/penny-starr/waxman-10535-pages-obamacare-regs-it-important-i-read-it#sthash.GvW1C8YG.dpu
Waxman
on 10,535 Pages of Obamacare Regs: ‘Is It Important That I Read It?’ -
See more at:
http://cnsnews.com/news/article/penny-starr/waxman-10535-pages-obamacare-regs-it-important-i-read-it#sthash.GvW1C8YG.dpuf
So young? He did good research and was a fine story-teller. Red October was a movie in my mind before the excellent movie was made. The movie was far better than my imagination.
She had the Emilia-Romagna thing going, and her Bolognese is the best. Bologna is the capital of Emilia-Romagna. Baloney. The home of Balsamic, Mortadella, the Lamborghini, and many other fine things.
William Shakespeare pretty much stole his plots. That's fine with me. And I suppose he was commercially right to take on the then-old Romeo and Juliet tale, judging it to be one that would sell tickets. Passion, blood, melodramatic death, etc. He wanted to be wealthy, and he was. Little could he have imagined, though, that his version of R&J would be selling tickets in 2013, both on and off Broadway.
It's a silly story, and a silly play. No character development, no fine poetry, no tragedy. Two stupid hormone-crazed 14 year-olds off themselves because the mailman missed delivering a letter in an Italy in which mail delivery is spotty and the vendetta is the spice of life. Poor mail delivery is not the stuff of tragedy. In fact, the play is not a tragedy in Aristotelian terms - or any terms.
My drama expert kid says she thinks it was written as a spoof.
West Side Story beats the Shakespeare, in my view, by miles.
In Verona last month, Mrs. BD and I avoided the Juliet tourist trap baloney. I hate that kind of phony crap but, again, it sells tickets.
Instead of the B'way version with heart-throb Orlando Bloom, we went to see the opening night at our regular Classic Stage which we support to a humble degree, starring (heart-throb) Elizabeth Olsen.
Dumb play, and a lousy performance by all. Where did WS instruct the players to shout their lines? Or to do a ponderous delivery? "Look Mom - I'm reciting Shakespeare!" When people do Shakespeare, they forget how to act like people because it's SHAKESPEARE. Like it's holy.
The only plus was dinner with one of the NYC kids at the Blue Water Grill afterwards with a wonderful jazz singer under our balcony seating. I do love that joint with their music, the exceedingly pleasing surroundings and staff, and their lobster mashed taters. I'll do a whole post about Branzino when I get to it. A tasty fish, but any grilled fish (or anything) is good on a bed of lobster mashed potatoes.
My pic is the pleasant East Village, with the Classic Stage sign. Despite this screw-up, we still like them. They do good Ibsen and Chekhov if you like that sort of thing.
These guys will play you for money. Many of them prefer speed chess - 5-minute or even one-minute games. It's a wonderful thing, excellent mental exercise. I hear that these guys are savvy players.
There are a few checkers guys too, but isn't checkers too much like tic-tac-toe? If you start, you win or draw unless you make an error.
16:19 "There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.
16:20 And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores,
16:21 who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.
16:22 The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried.
16:23 In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.
16:24 He called out, 'Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.'
16:25 But Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony.
16:26 Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.'
16:27 He said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house--
16:28 for I have five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.'
16:29 Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.'
16:30 He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.'
16:31 He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain, Of such as wand'ring near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, and the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care, No children run to lisp their Sire's return, Nor climb his knees the envied kiss to share.