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.
Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home; All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin. God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied; Come to God's own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.
All the world is God's own field, fruit unto His praise to yield; Wheat and tares together sown unto joy or sorrow grown. First the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear; Lord of harvest, grant that we wholesome grain and pure may be.
For the Lord our God shall come, and shall take His harvest home; From His field shall in that day all offenses purge away, Giving angels charge at last in the fire the tares to cast; But the fruitful ears to store in His garner evermore.
Even so, Lord, quickly come, bring Thy final harvest home; Gather Thou Thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin, There, forever purified, in Thy garner to abide; Come, with all Thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home.
The Pilgrims sustained so many deaths in their first year, it's a wonder they did not give up and return to Holland. They maintained their faith, and endured, and were relentlessly grateful for the Lord's will, whatever it might be. Some of the BD's ancestors were there, and survived. We connect.
Besides the wonderful tune, what I especially like about this one is that it makes it clear that the true harvest to be celebrated is not pumpkins and corn and big birds harvested by man, but people harvested by God for His kingdom. Also, it's the first tune I learned to play, on an old foot-pedal pump organ at the farm. You had to brush the mouse shit off the keys first. They lived inside that old organ in the fall and winter.
It would be more fun if it were giving thanks for sex, or the intertunnels, or freedom from government "help" and control, or something. However, survival comes first, and God has provided us all with his fruits.
Did the Pilgrims get the idea from Sukkot? Who knows. People have given thanks to God or gods since the beginning of time. What did the Pilgrims have for their Thanksgiving feast? Clams, Cod, corn meal, eels, turkey, vension, ducks. All organic! It went on for a few days, with plenty of Indians visiting with game meat in hand (the sturdy few who had not died off due to European diseases introduced by earlier explorers).
Being now passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before them in expectations, they had now no friends to welcome them, no inns to entertain or refresh them, no houses, or much less towns, to repair unto to seek for succour; and for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of the country know them to be sharp and violent, subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places, much more to search unknown coasts.
Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wilde beasts and wilde men? and what multitudes of them there were, they then knew not: for which way soever they turned their eyes (save upward to Heaven) they could have but little solace or content in respect of any outward object; for summer being ended, all things stand in appearance with a weatherbeaten face, and the whole country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and savage hew.
If they looked behind them, there was a mighty ocean which they had passed, and was now as a main bar or gulph to separate them from all the civil parts of the world.
Bad luck. They were headed for the cozy Dutch village of New Amsterdam, and ended up in rugged Cape Cod due to bad weather and imperfect navigation. Decided to stay anyway, trusting God. "Occupy Plymouth!" They tried out a Christian commune, but it didn't work so they switched to free markets and private property. The investors got a successful colony, the Pilgrims got religious freedom and real estate, and the rest is history.
My pics from a BD family TG groaning board a few years ago. The oven turkey was on another table. We always have Indian Pudding too, but I guess it didn't make this photo op (we always use fresh Indians from Costco).
Note pup banished outdoors, drooling at the door. Two pups, this year. Maybe three. Thanks to God for all the dogs!
Unlike we modern whining Americans among whom none go hungry or cold, the Pilgrims saw reason for thanks despite their hardships - half their number dead.
"In everything, give thanks..."
Yes, that's a Pumpkin Cheesecake. Our friend always makes one.
Mike, The Figure you sent is very deceptive[...] there have been a number of dishonest presentations of model results by individual authors and by IPCC [...]
Follow the money...same goes for us: the ICTSMECE (Internation Cartel To Support More Evil Carbon Emissions) gives Maggie's Farm $2 million/year for our skepticism about settled science. Cash, directly to our secret Cayman Island account. It comes in handy during cash flow jams.
We have two generations that have been raised to believe that, ultimately, someone else is responsible for the essentials of their lives. They believe they are supposed to retire in their fifties or early sixties, with a pension followed by Social Security. They believe they are supposed to relinquish concern for healthcare costs when they turn 65. They believe that if things get bad enough in their lives, unemployment, and later welfare, will keep a roof over their head and food on the table. They’ve been trained to believe this by a ruling class that has been assuring them since the 1930s that they have the fundamental right to a soft life.
These people do not want to think about a world where these things are not true.
In Manitoba. A morning in a goose blind with friends is a darn wonderful thing, no matter how cold it is or how frozen your poor fingers are. Decoys, hay bales, and distant high-tension wires carrying electricity from good, high-carbon Canadian gas and oil:
Buddy is right: it took balls for a young kid - a boy, really, a recklessly-ambitious first-year college dropout - to do this old song on TV in 1963 (Bob's first TV performance). He used Woody as his adult accessory ego. Artists always do things like that, borrowing and stealing ego-ideals to help fill out their ever-growing selves.
Hermit Crabs, as I have often seen on Cape Cod, sometimes will take on a moon shell far too large for them to fill. They can hardly drag it across the mud. Eventually, if lucky, they grow into it. And, if luckier still, someday have to find a new larger shell to inhabit.
Bob will be forever an old soul, and forever young. Restless, wonderfully lost, and doing much of the seeking and searching for us drones.
JFK was assassinated by an ardent Leftist and Castro-lover, and RFK by a Jordanian who hated his support of the nation of Israel. Might as well get the facts right.
...the failure of the Supercommittee should be no surprise. The Democrats have only one election strategy and that’s to blame the Republicans. They have nothing to gain from cooperation and everything to gain from conflict. They would see the economy burn, even if they didn’t have anything to gain from the flames—but they do.
Hypocrisy abounds on the Republican side where symbolic votes cover a multitude of economic sins. And when he symbolic votes tank, then the masks come off. But why expect anything different? The United States is not a one party system and congress can only be held hostage so far. The Republican Party is not innocent, only comparatively less guilty, their crimes those of greedy and complacency, rather than the ideological agenda that fattens up the spending of the left.
Everyone talks cuts, but no one makes them because cuts are a dangerous thing. Elections are expensive and someone has to pay for them. Indirectly that someone is the poor schmoe sending off money to D.C. without getting anything for it but aching fingers.
It's White Truffle season right now (Oct-early December) in Italy. Black Italian truffles are often jarred, but the fresh Italian White Truffle is "the diamond of the kitchen" and is only obtained fresh.
At $300/oz., they ain't cheap, but you shave them into paper-thin flakes with a truffle-shaver so just one truffle goes a long way in making ordinary things into something miraculous. One is good for many meals. That incredible funky, earthy fragrance is the thing. The rule is that you never cook truffle: only add it after the cooking. D'Artagnan has them now, until they run out.
My very best truffle experience was Woodock Ravioli in jus gibier, with shaved black truffle on top. Perhaps my best taste experience in my life. My chef pal and occasional hunting buddy made it for us, with Woodcock he had shot. (Non-American readers may not know that wild game cannot be sold commercially in the US. You have to fetch it yourself.)
Some friends treated us to dinner last Weds. night at their favorite Italian restaurant because they were having a special White Truffle Night there. We chose the Carpaccio with Truffle, the Truffle Risotto, and a wood-grilled Tuscan Steak on a bed of Truffled Potato. That's Italian! Not many places I know where you can get a real Tuscan steak. It's not bland like an American or Argentinian corn-fed steak, and it's grilled with Italian Bay.
They even had a White Truffle Gelato, but we passed on that.
I commented that, if I were eaten by a tiger on my way to the car, he would be pleased because I was White Truffle-infused.
Most of the time, when we want a truffle flavor, I just use truffle oil. It comes in either White or Black, and it is wonderful stuff. D'artagnan sells that, too. As with fresh truffle, you add truffle oil after cooking.
I'm going to make up a nice big venison stew to go along with the turkeys this year. I have a few nice shoulders and loins shrink-wrapped in the freezer. Something sort of like this. I will make a venison bone stock for it instead of a veal stock but I will make it with the magical Porcinis.
Best to make a stew a day or two ahead. Better that way.
Do my friends shoot does around here? Darn right they do. Bow-hunting, usually. It's about the meat. Trophies are silly. Where ya gonna put them? We hang the deer for a week or two in the garage, and butcher them ourselves. In parts of New England, White Tails are almost pests. Many areas, no limits on does.
Contemplating oyster stuffing for the oven turkey this year. Seems like a bit of a waste of good oysters, though. I noticed that the Brits sometimes put Parmesan in their bird stuffings. Hmmm. I dunno. Best bird stuffing I have ever eaten had chunks of foie gras in it. Great. I have done cornbread/chestnut/sausage/apple stuffing too long, and got tired of it. Plus it's a pain in the neck to make, chopping all that stuff like a prep cook.
Why Lefties hold bureaucrats, technocrats, and dictators in such high esteem remains a mystery to me. I think it might be a substitute for faith in God - and in onseself.
More people shop at Macy's in NYC every day than are involved in OWS, but those normal Macy's shoppers don't get on the news. Silent majority, I guess, getting on with life without any hystrionic public bitching.
Windmills are a joke. Solar is mostly a joke unless you live in some place like Nevada. For fuel and power, we love nuclear, coal, oil, and gas. And wood!
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near.
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.
A preview performance of Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard at Classic Stage. Is Cherry Orchard the first modernist play? Some say it is. Plenty of ellipses, and disjointed communication. A comedy, sort-of, or a slice of life. Chekhov was a physician, a writer on the side.
Superb early dinner at the Blue Water Grill on Union Square. Mrs. BD had the Crab and Sweet Potato Hash. I had the Baked Cod with Lobster Mashed Potatoes. I didn;t pay attention to what our friends had. We had a jolly afternoon and evening in NYC. Blue Water is a Maggie's 4-star joint, especially for seafood. Perfect ambience, service, and food. I prefer the balcony, but there's more people-watching on the main floor. Their pic below:
I didn't want to use flash:
Took the subway, of course. Quicker and cheaper. The NYC subway system is a good IQ test, and a small d democratic form of transportation in the best sense. I have always enjoyed the subways. The whole thing was developed by separate private companies to meet market demaind, not by government planners. Works great, once you get the hang of it. The government took it all over, but I don't know why. Governments always have reasons to take things over, and it's usually all about money or votes.
14th St was hopping. Gotta love the vitality of a thriving, bustling city full of young, hard-working, ambitious, determined, and attractive people. That's the Empire State bldg lit up in the distance:
The planners like their project and speak well of it; that is enough to get a lengthy, heavy breathing puff job (hardened newspaper people would use a phrase in place of that one that is unsuitable in a family friendly blog like Via Meadia) in the New York Times. Only an idiot or a propagandist would write such a piece; it is hard to see how any editor would put it in print.
Just down the road from where the Pilgrims first landed in Provincetown. A house in town, downtown Wellfleet. I'd happily live, and raise some American bambinos, in this one had there been any work there - which there is not. As you can discern from my pics, Wellfleet ain't Nantucket. It's always a little raggedy, which is what I like.
As states send more and more mediocre students to college, students learn less and less. “Our colleges and universities are full to the brim with students who do not really belong there, who are unprepared for college and uninterested in breaking a mental sweat.” “Nearly half of the nation’s undergraduates show almost no gains in learning in their first two years of college, in large part because colleges don’t make academics a priority,” according to a widely-publicized January report from experts like New York University Professor Richard Arum.
"The government consists of a gang of men exactly like you and me. They have, taking one with another, no special talent for the business of government; they have only a talent for getting and holding office. Their principal device to that end is to search out groups who pant and pine for something they can't get and to promise to give it to them. Nine times out of ten that promise is worth nothing. The tenth time is made good by looting A to satisfy B. In other words, government is a broker in pillage, and every election is sort of an advance auction sale of stolen goods."
In Scientific American, The Wipeout Gene - A new breed of genetically modified mosquitoes carries a gene that cripples its own offspring. They could crush native mosquito populations and block the spread of disease. And they are already in the air—though that's been a secret.
Good, bad, or indifferent? It's a little creepy to me, like Ice-9.
Has individual liberty been a prime value in American politics and policy since Coolidge? (We are defining liberty as freedom from the power and interference of the state.)
Do Americans talk liberty, but desire utilitariansm? Is real freedom too difficult or scarey for most people nowadays?
Secondly, three guys including Will Wilkinson discuss Libertarianism and Liberty in serious depth at Boston Review. At Maggie's, we believe that the "liberty cost" has to be a large factor in any policy equation, or else we aren't America anymore.
Today, you hear more about financial cost, health cost, and environmental cost, than about liberty cost. (Can I trademark the term "liberty cost," or has somebody else done that already?)
Seems to me that Repubs talk more liberty than the Dems, who have eliminated it from their political calculus since Woodrow Wilson. However, the Repubs talk it better than they act it. Have pols simply learned that, when it comes to voting, people want stuff more from the feds than they want freedom?
Ten Commandments via 
Did you know 
Depleted Texas lakes 
It's White Truffle season right now (Oct-early December) in Italy. Black Italian truffles are often jarred, but the fresh Italian White Truffle is "the diamond of the kitchen" and is only obtained fresh.
I'm going to make up a nice big venison stew to go along with the turkeys this year. I have a few nice shoulders and loins shrink-wrapped in the freezer. Something sort of
Mycophilia: Revelations from the Weird World of Mushrooms
Politely 
