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.
I think this guy seems reasonable, fine as infotainment. Wants to be a TV professor. Not sure he can tell me much that I don't know. Anyway, I have a day job.
Part of the problem was the very design of the projects. Aping the bad ideas of Swiss architect Le Corbusier (Theodore Dalrymple suggests “Le Corbusier was to architecture what Pol Pot was to social reform”), CHA planners had created islands of social pathology lacking almost all human connections.
Have you heard the one about how postmodern extremists on a vendetta against science have overrun anthropology? Hugh Gusterson has, and he’s not amused.
Took this pic of a cute in-town house on Saturday morning. That's a real home, isn't it? You could grow up in its cozy nooks, and happily come home from the Army to it. "Hey, Mom. I'm home."
The New Victory Theater, on 42nd St. in the heart of the theater district. We saw the new Cymbeline there on Sunday afternoon. The Fiasco Theater Company. Six recent Brown MFA grads played all the roles, and the entire stage set was as seen: three wooden boxes. They spoke the Bard's lines in pure American accent and tone, and every word was comprehensible. Each actor played a musical instrument too. Delightful comedy - and the audience got all the jokes. This play is a farce, a sit-com about love, evil, treachery and vengeance, with a happy ending. Entirely lacking in Shakespearian grandiloquence.
We got there a bit early, and I chatted with the lighting board gal about the theater. It's the oldest operating theater in NYC, built in 1900 by Oscar Hammerstein's grandfather for vaudeville. Holds around 500. It's a jewel-box theater.
Its history reflects the history of 42nd St in the 20th Century. Vaudeville, then Burlesque (Gypsy Rose Lee stripped there) under the Minskys, then legit theater (Belasco himself had the electric lights put in), then a porn movie house in the 70s, then shuttered for 20 years, then reopened in the 90s as what it is now: a venue for family-friendly productions.
Thank you, Rudy Giuliani, for civilizing 42nd St.
The Fiasco's Cymbeline is only there for two weeks and is, I think, thanks to a pile of good reviews, sold out. They let me take pics before they began, as people were arriving. The actors hung around on stage talking to people and stretching:
A couple more pics of this jewel of a theater below.
If you have been away from Maggie's this weekend, catch up on our posts. Good fun, as always.
Readers who have not strolled down West 42nd St. in the past ten years would be amazed by it. Clean, no sense of menace, no porn, no creeps, tons of regular people on the streets day and night. I didn't even see any cops - there always used to be patrol cars everywhere there. Multi-million dollar luxury apartments going up between 10th Ave. and the West Side Highway.
Funky, funky Broadway is now a place you can take your kids.
I took a few pics before and after the matinee yesterday:
A fun walk to the parking garage, despite the 15 degree temps and strong wind. NYC is all about walking. New Yorkers walk more miles just in their daily lives than any country folk do. That's why the gals are all so svelte compared to country gals. Streets filled with people. Wonderful.
I really do need to plan a 15-mile NYC Official Maggie's Farm walking tour of Manhattan this spring or summer, with an architectural/cultural guide. I meant to do it last year, but life got busy. The Battery to Central Park, with a snakey route hitting some old joints and pubs. Maybe I will plan it. If I build it, will you come? (I refer to our bigcityphobes.)
Having things to look forward to, whether a good snow storm, or a trip someplace new, a new lamp, a new Teaching Company series, a possible new friend, or reservations for a good dinner out, is part of the charm of life.
Mrs. BD has just laid on me our trip adventures for 2011 which she has kindly planned and paid for. (It seems like the villa in Provence or Tuscany for the whole family, plus the Gwynnies and the Sipps and some other fun pals, will have to wait 'til 2012 - God willing - because the gal wants to get me back to Turkey, and to the Holy Land, first. Maybe she is wondering how long I will last...)
For one thing, I know she is planning supper at this joint:
Screw the Death Tax. The grim reaper is forever snapping at our heels while we run like hell to keep one step ahead of him. Die broke. They keep reminding me that it's a big, inviting world out there, full of interesting, confusing, and exciting things. Ruts are bad because they shorten life. Comfort zones are mainly valuable as places to return to. I have learned this, in life. Timidity fails, constricts life, creates regrets that just accumulate and grow mold.
It's just kinda odd, though, that Mrs. BD had none of my hunting trips to my old familiar places on her list: Maine, New Brunswick, Manitoba. What's up with that? She has lots of theater and opera tix done too, but never even bothered to check out Bob's tour this year. Guess that's my responsibility.
What adventures are y'all planning this year?
Pic on top is the club where some of us Maggie's Farmers like to go to hunt critters with wings in Manitoba in early October.
Aristotle's "Man is a political animal" means, as you know, that man is an animal who lives in a polis. Most normal folks prefer to live amongst others, to cluster, whether for convenience, socializing, or for security. I happen to enjoy both town and country, and find suburbia to be an imperfect if often necessary compromise.
Urbanism is about studying cities and towns. The topic has always been of interest to me, whether from the archeological view or from the present view.
Our blog colleague with his shiny new site The Old Urbanist (a word-play on The New Urbanism) blogrolls several sites which I have found quite absorbing and informative:
The Guardian recently published a wicked satire of moral relativism, a Swiftian send-up entitled “End human rights imperialism now” with the classic sub-heading “Groups such as Human Rights Watch have lost their way by imposing western, ‘universal’ standards on developing countries.” Brilliant! Hahahahaha! I didn’t know the Guardian had branched out into humor.
But about five minutes after my laughter subsided, a horrible suspicion dawned on me: Could it be that the author was serious?
The notion of human rights is about as Western as it comes.
"I'm not racist, I know people who voted for Obama, although I try not to talk politics with them because we'll just get into an argument and they'll accuse me of being racist when they're losing in order to end the discussion."
That should work like a charm.
No it won't, Prof. That sounds very racist to me. The below is just a figment of Vanderleun's imagination:
4:12 Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee.
4:13 He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali,
4:14 so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
4:15 "Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles
4:16 the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned."
4:17 From that time Jesus began to proclaim, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near."
4:18 As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea for they were fishermen.
4:19 And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people."
4:20 Immediately they left their nets and followed him.
4:21 As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them.
4:22 Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
4:23 Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the Kingdom of God.
There are a handful of species of Juncos in North America. Most familiar is the Dark-Eyed Junco, formerly known as the Slate-Colored Junco. Why they changed that name is totally beyond me. Who can see their eye color?
Flocks of these sparrows - yes, they are in the sparrow family - are common around the US during migration and in winter, generally feeding on or near the ground, in fields, edges, and brush. The dual flash of white in their tail is an easy field mark in flight. They enjoy our bird feeders, and they do not mind snow at all.
They breed pretty much throughout Canada. Their arrival in the US in November, along with the White-Throated Sparrows, is a sign that winter is coming. They will begin to push north in March.
You can read more about these cheerful critters here.
'Terence, this is stupid stuff. You eat your victuals fast enogh; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head; We, poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.'
Why, if ’tis dancing you would be, There’s brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God’s ways to man. Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think.
from Verse LXll, A Shropshire Lad, by A.E. Housman. Read entire
The great problem for the Left is that they have failed spectacularly. The Soviet Union is now a kleptocracy surviving off oil; China is a State run Corporation; Cuba can barely feed itself and its much vaunted healthcare system is a shambles for all but the well connected who can obtain western (Capitalist) medical care; Venezuela is going off a cliff despite its oil; everywhere Socialism has been tried it has failed to do anything but terrorize and consign its people to perdition.
Pic is from Pico ski area in Vermont. Great fun to ride up to those mountaintops on oil power, and to whizz down on gravity power. Thrills and chills. Thanks to globalistical warmening caused by climate models, winter is even more fun now with more cold and more snow.
OK, gentle readers. We'll put the banner blurb back ASAP. We never imagined that it had any impact. I guess it's a permanent feature.
Still working on improving our format, though - and our banner which needs work! However, we work with a Stone Age system which, like a 1925 tractor, is rugged but not very adaptable.
We used to feature a weekly Bob music video, with lyrics, as a "Free Ad for Bob,", but they have all been taken away from YouTube. However, in cleaning out my image closet I did find a few Bob pics to post:
Aristotle's "Man is a political animal" means, as you know, that man is an animal who lives in a polis. Most normal folks prefer to live amongst others, to cluster, whether for convenience, socializing, or for security. I happen to enjoy both town and country, and find suburbia to be an imperfect if often necessary compromise.
The American: 
There are a handful of species of Juncos in North America. Most familiar is the Dark-Eyed Junco, formerly known as the Slate-Colored Junco. Why they changed that name is totally beyond me. Who can see their eye color?
'Terence, this is stupid stuff.
Can We Trust the GOP?
Bumpersticker from Vanderleun's 
Bob Dylan Has Six More Books Left In Him