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.
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb, Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment, There He hath made Himself to His intent Weak enough, now into the world to come; But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room? Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient, Stars and wise men will travel to prevent The effect of Herod's jealous general doom. Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eyes, how He Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie? Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high, That would have need to be pitied by thee? Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go, With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
In addition to your usual gift of a free subscription to Maggie's Farm, our present, once again, is an introduction to artist George Henry Durrie (1820-1863):
Born in Hartford, Connecticut, George Durrie was known as the "snowman" because of the many winter scenes he painted. He lived most of his life in New Haven and earned a reputation for rural landscape scenes, especially snow scenes, which he introduced as subject matter in American painting. His paintings "provide an excellent record of rural life in the mid-nineteenth century . . . and his carefully recorded details of nature and foliage added authenticity to his depictions."
This is Road to Boston, 1861. More of his work at this site.
"End of the Line." Reader reminded me this one, with the then recently-late Roy Orbison's guitar in the rocking chair, and with George Harrison with his cancer growing, unknown, inside him. Dylan? Just a humble member of the group.
Good tune (not embeddable, but well-worth the effort of pushing the link). Good fellows making music. I love it. I'd guess Captain Tom would love it too.
"Well, it's all right, even if you're old and gray..."
Gotta remember to tell Pastor that, if I get hit by a truck, he can play this tune in church. "It's all right...we're going to the end of the line."
The Monks of Norcia would like to wish you a Merry Christmas, as the nativity of Our Lord nears. We also want to share with you our most recent newsletter.
We thank you for being a part of our extended monastic family, as you provide much prayer and support for us throughout the year. May God bless you abundantly during this special season of Christmas.
Sincerely in Christ,
The Monks of Norcia
Regular readers know that the Bird Dog family, while Protestant in tradition (well, Mrs. BD is RC in tradition, Protestant in current practice), are fond of the Benedictine Monks of Norcia, offer them some modest support, and visited them, chatted with them and worshipped with them this past summer. Some American monks there.
Norcia was the home of St. Benedict. It is a joy and a privilege to support these people.
Not to seem irreverent, but the other reason to visit Norcia is for the food. They run buses up from Rome for the day just to eat and drink there, and to ride home in a wonderful Italian stupor with their bags of salumi, country wine, and dried stringozzi beside them. Possibly the best food in Italia: Porcini, Salumi, Cinghiale, Stringozzi, Polenta, Risotto, Tartuffo - and happily no spaghetti and no tomato sauce to be found.
Photo was our Italian Primo in Norcia - polenta with tartuffo sauce. The antipasto was also superb with the local cinghiale salumi and prosciutto, olives, and amazing Pecorino. As I recall, we had, as Secondo, Cighiali stew with porcini with a side of spinach with oil and garlic. That's real Italian. Can't beat it.
But is Maggie's a "conservative" website? I think we're centrist. Speaking only for myself, in my link collections I just try to link info, events, and perspectives that the MSM tends to overlook or desires to insulate us from for their own political reasons. Perhaps "contrarian" would be a word.
She's wrong, I think. Rich or poor, there will always be rotten people who work any system and use any system for freebies. Shame on them all, whether Welfare Queens, lazy jerks with aching backs, or Jon Corzines. They are more deserving of pity than of scorn. Throw them some money, and the heck with them.
It's the 50th anniversary of Alvin Ailey's "Revelations." The Ailey Company is at City Center, NYC, until Jan 2. Rock-a my soul, and Fix Me Jesusl - the Ailey is still going strong with the great Judith Jamison in charge.
Got nice tix for the whole fam as Christmas present (except for baby, who will be filming in Vietnam - and she had better email us pics for Maggie's) for Christmas week (Shhh. Don't tell my family - it's one of my surprise tix-and-dinner presents and one of Mrs. BD's favorites).
Here are some bits of recent "Revelations" performances. Wonderful stuff, ain't it, Marianne? Stay with it through the breaks - it's a bunch of snippets:
I'm not too smart, but it seems to me obvious that, in general, the higher your graduation rates, the lower your expectations, rigor, and demands. Let's face it: Big Education is an industry, and they need to please the buyers. If expectations are too high, buyers will go elsewhere. Does your kid's school require second year calc? Latin? Stats? Plato? If not, it's expensive babysitting. I would have more faith in the integrity and standards of programs with substantial wash-out rates. As an example, it's damn tough to get into the US Navy SEALs program (eg 100 push-ups in a minute) - and they still have an 80% washout rate. Thus graduation has a meaning.
This is not "insurance." This is pure control of your darn body. As far as I know, however, you will still be "allowed" to purchase your own help, if needed.
Country is not dead in spirit yet. Between the EPA, Obamacare, and some other things, people are getting nervous about Federal aspirations for control and command. The average red-blooded American person does not desire a Philosopher-King, but wants to be King of his own life - for better or worse. We do not want to be babied European serfs. Perhaps much of the world has servility in their blood.
The Cellulosic Ethanol Debacle - Congress mandated purchase of 250 million gallons in 2011. Actual production: 6.6 million.
Is my Ford supposed to burn hay? It's not a freaking horse. Fact is, I'd like a horse too. Dad first put me on a horse at age 3, and I learned to ride bareback. I have learned that a horse is just a retarded, insane motorcycle that runs on hay.
Every time our dear, sweet president gets in political hot water, he gives a speech that his fans in the press box immediately praise as a instant classic — a masterpiece worthy of Martin Luther King and John Kennedy. Every one of these instant classics is pedestrian and partisan.
Maggie's has been fortunate in gaining a goodly number of new readers over the past month. We are pleased by that, and offer y'all a hearty welcome to the Farm.
If you enjoy Maggie's Farm, the best holiday present you can give us is to send our site around to anybody who might enjoy it. A growing readership, and readers' feedback, are our only tangible rewards for our (usually) enjoyable efforts.
Remember - you do not have to be a right-wing wacko to find our rationalist, centrist site an interesting addition to your day. We aren't all about politics, and plenty of Libs read us just for the fun of it. There's more to life than the sleazy soap opera of politics (despite our little, old-fashioned hang-ups about political and economic freedom and minor details like that).
Thanks -
Bird Dog, Editor Dog in Chief
(If you happen to be Chinese, so much the better. Why our China readership is so low is difficult to understand unless we are blocked by the government: we're a pretty good sample of ordinary American life for the curious. We would love to have a good-sized Chinese readership.)
The Church of Kathleen Sebelius - A zealous administration wants to require all health insurance plans to cover contraception, sterilization and drugs known to induce abortion.
It is a frightening prospect to have a president who lives in a time warp that lets him believe that the failed policies of 1935 can lead this nation back from the brink.
The story of the transition from Judaeo-Christians to Gentile-Christians. Jesus taught only to his fellow Jews, but the history of the expansion to the gentiles, and the discomfort between the Jewish Christians and the gentile Christians made for interesting drama and conflict.
Eventually, the gentile-Christians dominated the faith. Most Christians today were pagans in their ancestral histories - hence our Saturnalian December Christmas (Jesus likely born in April, but it doesn't really matter) - and the good old pagan Christmas trees.
Started thinking about Christmas shopping yet? I began to think about thinking about it last night. At the Farm, the immediate blood-related BD family (my two parents with five kids, each with a very nice spouse, countless grandkids of all sizes) decided years ago to prohibit presents as an interference with just getting together for drinks, food, and fun - just too many people. For my in-laws and my kids, focusing on theater and music tix and restaurant vouchers in NYC. Cool memories last longer than things. Maybe some Christmas socks or a book too. (The Jesus part is the bigger deal for me, says the sanctimonious Bird Dog - but I do mean it.)
I have seen this too. How can these people look at themselves in the mirror, knowing they are milking their working neighbors and avoiding opportunities?
The dystopian fantasies which imagined that a police state would be the product of some right wing takeover never seemed to anticipate that just as in the east, it would be the left that would resort to it. That is where George Orwell, who came out of the left, proved far wiser than many other writers. The police state is a consequence of the left's failures, its economic failures and its demographic failures. That is as true in the United States as it is in the UK as it is in Israel and throughout what was once known as the free world.
Chicago: Feds probe union pension deals - Subpoenas show feds investigating how 11 leaders qualified for inflated retirement payments
"The first man I saw was of a meagre aspect, with sooty hands and face, his hair and beard long, ragged, and singed in several places. His clothes, shirt, and skin, were all of the same colour. He has been eight years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which were to be put in phials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw inclement summers. He told me, he did not doubt, that, in eight years more, he should be able to supply the governor's gardens with sunshine, at a reasonable rate: but he complained that his stock was low, and entreated me "to give him something as an encouragement to ingenuity, especially since this had been a very dear season for cucumbers." I made him a small present, for my lord had furnished me with money on purpose, because he knew their practice of begging from all who go to see them."
Jonathan Swift, from Gulliver's Travels (h/t Englishman)
Many forms of atheism, and plenty of atheists appear to attend church or synagogue for all sorts of reasons - including the hope that faith might be contagious. One quote from Novak's post:
Some years ago I read a book on atheism, by a devout atheist (if that is the right word), who had found to his surprise that a large majority of those Americans who call themselves atheists actually believe in some more-than-human power, force, intelligence in all things. This is a position not altogether unlike the ancients (and the moderns) described in #3 above. The ancients did not call such persons atheists, but held them to be theists, albeit under a vague and unclear sort of deity, but intelligent and powerful and drawing all things toward the good.
"Higher Power"? That is certainly a form of theism albeit undeveloped.
Back at the barn after a long days' hunt today in the Hudson Valley with a pal and his business partner. Venison stew for lunch with a Bloody with extra horseradish, shot lots of birds over my pal's excellent Lab, saw three Bald Eagles (one of which, we suspect, stole a bird from our bird pile), smoked a cigar, had a few good beers and some very good conversation too. I shot quite well today, which I do not always do. I always find that an Irish Coffee or a Bloody helps my shooting.
Advent is hunting season too in this neck of the woods.
Thanks, pal, for hosting such a fine day. Les tres riche heures du Bird Dog, blessed as he is with good dear friends who like to do things. (On the other hand, he did chastise me, gently, a little for not monetising Maggie's Farm.)
The first keyboard I ever approached was an 1800s Mason & Hamlin single manual reed organ, technically a harmonium. The wind is generated by vacuum-generating bellows (hence "suction reed organ") pumped by the feet of the organist. From a technical standpoint, these are like upright accordions with an organ-like sound.
My Grandpa salvaged it when the local Congregational church bought a new organ. He kept it in his living room, and the elderly, old maid church organist would stop by, unannounced. to play the old thing until she died.
Today, old reed organs are thrown in the garbage, but I think it's a shame. They are of an era when these were all small congregations could afford. Some folks had them in their homes, too: "Parlor organs." You can find them cheap on eBay, but often people will be grateful if you will just take them away.
Did I mention that mice like to live in them? My parents finally threw the old thing in a dumpster because I failed to take it away myself in a reasonable period of time. My fault.
This fellow explains how to use the foot bellows to affect the playing of a reed organ:
The first tune I learned to play on it was the hymn Work For The Night Is Coming. It is not just a song of toil and death, but a song of toil in God's fields and pastures, and I still love it. Here's the only half-decent version I could find on YouTube (on piano, not reed organ - lyrics here):
The 
Nativity
In addition to your usual gift of a free subscription to Maggie's Farm, our present, once again, is an introduction to artist George Henry Durrie (1820-1863):
Dear Friends,
Toon via 
Maggie's has been fortunate in gaining a goodly number of new readers over the past month. We are pleased by that, and offer y'all a hearty welcome to the Farm.
Started thinking about Christmas shopping yet? I began to think about thinking about it last night. At the Farm, the immediate blood-related BD family (my two parents with five kids, each with a very nice spouse, countless grandkids of all sizes) decided years ago to prohibit presents as an interference with just getting together for drinks, food, and fun - just too many people. For my in-laws and my kids, focusing on theater and music tix and restaurant vouchers in NYC. Cool memories last longer than things. Maybe some Christmas socks or a book too. (The Jesus part is the bigger deal for me, says the sanctimonious Bird Dog - but I do mean it.)
H/t 
The first keyboard I ever approached was an 1800s Mason & Hamlin single manual
