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.
The Mediterranean Bay Laurel (Laurus nobilis), known in Italy as alloro or lauro, is a common flavoring for Mediterranean meats and fish (also used to decorate the heads of victors). It's sometimes called True Bay, True Laurel, or Sweet Bay. Most Italians have one growing near their house, for cooking (and for hedges). It's used mostly fresh, sometimes slightly dried or dried, and is evergreen.
It is not related at all to the California Bay (Umbullularia californica), which is the common supermarket or farmer's market "Bay Leaf" in the US.
The flavor/fragrance profiles are quite different, as these commenters note. In my view, each is good but definitely different. To my American taste, the Med True Bay has a foreign, kerosene-like flavor which takes a little - but not much - getting used to.
Here's how Italians use Laurus nobilis. The excellent Tuscan steaks are always cooked with it, and grilled meats in general.
Fifteen summers ago, America's news media informed us that black churches throughout the South were being torched by white racists. The purported wave of arsons dominated the airwaves and generated thousands of newspaper articles. Pundits, politicians and preachers decried the terrorism and the hate it represented.
“It turns out that one of the women Congressman Anthony Weiner was communicating with was a porn star. When asked how it was possible to get involved with someone in such a sleazy business, the porn star said, ‘I don’t know.’” – Conan O’Brien
Superb Chris Muir toon below the fold (totally SFW)
I always seem to have close bird or animal encounters on Pentecost, and I like to think it's The Holy Spirit visiting me in a form I can recognize. This fellow had a young Cottontail rabbit in his talons, and he is not going to let me take it away from him.
We wanted our trip to be as much off the beaten path as feasible, and to try to soak up Italy instead of tourist Italy (which I term Disney Italy - been there, done that). After using our delightful tenuta outside Todi as our base for a few days, we headed up over the hills and through the vineyards towards Bevagna in the Valle Umbra because Mrs. BD knew, during her planning, that I wanted some time based in a little old, non-touristy town to walk around in.
On the way there, we stopped by the hilltop walled village Montefalco, where we did the most shopping on our entire trip: She could not resist the famous tessuto artistico - the textiles of Umbria - tablecloths and linens - and I could not resist their heavy Umbrian olive oils and wines. Sagrantino di Montefalco, in particular:
Montefalco is know almost exclusively for its obscure and powerful wine, know as Sagrantino. Sagrantino is a dark bruiting red wine made from the indigenous Sangratino grape that is grown only around Montefalco. For centuries it was produced as a passito, a fortified dessert wine, but today Sagrantino reaches its pinnacle as a earthy and dry table wine.
Well, also known for its Umbrian textiles. She bought a yellow tablecloth with some pattern in it or whatever, taking well over 1/2 hour to do so while I explored around. (It is against my religion to enter clothing stores, shoe stores, or textile shops).
This is a pic of a pic on the wall in one of Montefalco's many vino and olio shops.
Both Hollywood and politics have been called “high school with money,” to reflect their petty, puerile nature. But it’s rare to see a politician — especially one with such powerful connections as Weiner — wish so overtly to infantilize himself. Particularly at what will likely be looked back at as being the peak of his career in politics
2:1 When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.
2:2 And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.
2:3 Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.
2:4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
2:5 Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.
2:6 And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each.
2:7 Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans?
2:8 And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?
2:9 Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia,
2:10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes,
2:11 Cretans and Arabs--in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power."
2:12 All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?"
2:13 But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine."
2:14 But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, "Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say.
2:15 Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o'clock in the morning.
2:16 No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:
2:17 'In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.
2:18 Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy.
2:19 And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
2:20 The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord's great and glorious day.
2:21 Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.'
Prison Math - What are the costs and benefits of leading the world in locking up human beings?
We lock up too many people for non-violent crimes. In the end, it's the taxpayers who pay for it. Let them pay for their errors with money or work instead of residing on my nickel.
It's indecent on the face of it, for heaven's sake. Even Bill Clinton left the charming high school girls alone. Adults just aren't supposed to do that, Humbert Humbert: it's not "sick" - it's plain old bad. The guy has a pattern of bad, of all sorts.
Darn uptight Christian Conservatives don't think guys should be hitting on high school girls. It's somebody's daughter. Sheesh. I guess it is not unseemly, in the view of like really hip dudes like Matthews. Is "unseemly" obsolete?
I want free life and I want fresh air; And I sigh for the canter after the cattle, The crack of the whips like shots in a battle, The medley of horns and hoofs and heads That wars and wrangles and scatters and spreads; The green beneath and the blue above, And dash and danger, and life and love - And Lasca! Lasca used to ride On a mouse-gray mustang close by my side, With blue serape and bright-belled spur; I laughed with joy as I looked at her! Little knew she of books or of creeds; An Ave Maria sufficed her needs; Little she cared, save to be by my side, To ride with me, and ever to ride, From San Saba's shore to LaVaca's tide. She was as bold as the billows that beat, She was as wild as the breezes that blow; From her little head to her little feet She was swayed in her suppleness to and fro By each gust of passion; a sapling pine That grows on the edge of a Kansas bluff And wars with the wind when the weather is rough Is like this Lasca, this love of mine.
She would hunger that I might eat, Would take the bitter and leave me the sweet; But once, when I made her jealous for fun, At something I'd whispered, or looked, or done, One Sunday, in San Antonio, To a glorious girl in the Alamo, She drew from her garter a dear little dagger, And -- sting of a wasp! -- it made me stagger! An inch to the left, or an inch to the right, And I shouldn't be maundering here tonight; But she sobbed, and, sobbing, so swiftly bound Her torn reboso about the wound, That I quite forgave her. Scratches don't count In Texas, down by the Rio Grande.
The rest of the poem is on the continuation page, below
The author of this famous cowboy poem, Frank Desprez, (1852-1916) was a Brit essayist and playwright who had spent three years in the American West. Here's a cowboy poetry website.
That's the name of a hotel that we did not stay at. Somebody's old villa. We discovered this gem by accident while stumbling around the countryside outside Montefalco looking for a Sagrantino winery to visit on our way (on the "Strada di Sagrantino") to visit the wonderful town of Spello - also a gem of a place.
A stunning and elegant place in a tiny hamlet outside Montefalco. I love the elegant simplicity of classic Italian design: zero glitz, sedate and serene, good use of subtle colors, formal gardens - the things the Brits loved and learned from, and enthusiastically integrated into their sort-of-crude commercial culture in the 17th and 18th C.
Brits love - and need - Italy for the yeast in their northern European bread, as it were. Same for New England Yankees, I think.
Mrs. BD and I thought it would be perfect for a destination wedding or a second, third, or whatever honeymoon. She walked in and had a chat with the manager, who was happy to show her around, while I stayed outside and took pics of their gardens and smoked a short ceegar. It's in fairly easy driving distance from Assisi, Spello, Spoleto and Montefalco, and what could be better than that?
Look at their website, and make up your own mind about whether you might like to spend a few days there in the Valle Umbra with your honey-pie and a Costco-rented standard transmission Alpha Romeo with talking GPS.
Big swimming pool, too, even though no Italians can swim to save their lives. I do not know why that is. They like to strut around pools and beaches in their tiny clothes, but they can't swim.
We took a drive to Orvieto, with the goal of seeing the renowned Signorelli chapel's 16th C. frescoes - the Chapel of the Madonna di San Brizio inside the 15th C. Duomo.
...I have minimal expectations of this country’s depraved political class. But if you can’t draw the line at being ruled by creeps with a spambot penis, you can’t draw it anywhere.
Circular argument, seems to me. Most everbody starts out adult life poor. Furthermore, wealth is not everybody's life goal (tho few would reject it if it landed in their lap).
I would really need solid proof before branding a particular individual a racist, or misogynist, or homophobe, or greedy bastard. But conservatives are routinely accused of these evils with no proof whatsoever.
Rather, being conservative is its own proof, so to speak. The charge is a metaphysical/theological one, not dissimilar to our belief that man is a fallen creature, except that our principle applies to everyone, not just our political opponents (which in turn is an important reason why we oppose big government).
From James Taranto on Anthony Weiner: “But he isn’t resigning, and it isn’t hard to see why. The last thing a man in his position wants to do is spend more time with his family.”
Like Bill Clinton before him, Anthony Weiner just coarsened the American conversation by betraying the woman he said before God and the world he would love and honor.
That is literally the old Via Flaminia as it passes through the Roman town of Carsulae. We drove out there from our tenudo to look around. This via was an ancient trading road between the Tyrrhenian and the Adriatic, but was much improved by Roman engineers when they invaded Umbria around 250 BC.
Carsulae is an unusual Roman site because most Roman towns have been subject to later building on the old Roman foundations, but nobody ever built a town on top of Carsulae (in part, because it's not on a defensible hill).
The place started as a Roman military camp, and just grew into a town with an amphitheater, a local Senate, etc. by the time of Augustus. Most of the Roman town, and its surrounding Roman vacation villas, are yet to be excavated.
I don't think you can attribute all of the prosperity of Medieval Europe to the Medieval Warm Period, but surely some of it.
At Maggie's, we retain a healthy skepticism about AGW just as we do about most or all scientific theories - and especially those driven by political or economic agendas.
What we mostly hear from the Climate Change propagandists are the terrifying effects of some planetary warming. We never hear about the benefits.
I took a minute to google "advantages+global warming" and "benefits+global warming," and found tons of links. A few samples of them:
I recently learned that there is software out there to make overly crisp digital images into more film-like images. Here's one of them. Other programs are out there to specifically change your images to Kodachrome-like, Ektachrome-like, etc.
Anthony Weiner now joins a disturbing list of elected officials in our
time who've lost any sense of self-discipline. If there are others out
there wandering in the confused ethers that trapped Anthony Weiner, we
have a request: Get out now. Spare the rest of us.
In an otherwise excellent essay, a distinction that Mead fails to grasp is the difference between what I will call a “breadwinner” business and a service business.
A breadwinner business is a business activity that brings money into a community. It can be manufacturing, agriculture, mining, banking or even government (e.g. Washington D.C., which hauls in cash from every state). When the breadwinner business closes down (the mine plays out or the factory closes), you have a ghost town. Service businesses can provide jobs only in communities that have a thriving breadwinner business.
Small businesses in general are service businesses that are completely dependent on the health of breadwinner businesses.
American prosperity completely depends on the health of our breadwinner businesses, and policymakers should be focusing solely on policies that will help those businesses succeed. This is not an issue of big business vs. small business; it is an issue of winning in a severe competition in a hyper-competitive global marketplace.
It's an interesting distinction, but I am not sure how well it holds up. In the failing old towns that I have seen, the main breadwinner (ie importer of $) is via government in all of its redistributive efforts, such as Social Security, Medicare, welfare, government jobs, government job programs, etc.
The 
The Latest Government Solution to a Non-Problem
A not-uncommon bird East of the Rockies. I had them around the garden this weekend as I was doing manual labor. 
The 
Acts 2:1-21
Lasca, by Frank Desprez
Windmills 
I don't think you can attribute all of the prosperity of Medieval Europe to the Medieval Warm Period, but surely some of it.