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.
To me, the story is like the Iliad, or some parts of the Bible. It destroyed Melville to write it, it seems. Destroyed him, or changed him. I blame the Transcendentalists although I might be sort-of one myself.
Art is mostly fraud perpetrated by narcissistic academic quacks on a public easily gulled. They should be prosecuted. This is as true of literature as of painting and sculpture. If modern sculpture were placed in a junkyard, art critics couldn’t find it. Most of what we are told are great works are great works only because we are told that they are.
Consider the Mona Lisa, for mysterious reasons regarded an epochal detonation of artistry. Why? She is an excessively round woman who looks as if she is about to spit. We have to be told that she was an astonishment and marvel. Otherwise we would rate her a a pretty fair effort for an art student somewhere in Nebraska...
It seems as if the official Maggie's Farm view is that government should be put into humble shopping centers and abandoned buildings in odd places rather than in grandiose, imperial-style rockpiles.
I am all in favor of grand public building, though. Just not governmental. Grand Central Terminal, for example. Public places which uplift the spirits of the common man or woman and government structures which humble our public servants.
I have always found Rauschenberg's stuff interesting to look at. Long ago, when I dabbled in the journalism field while in college, I interviewed the guy. A friendly Texan, happy to talk. I wish I had had better questions for him.
I liked this piece of his at the Whitney last weekend. My photo lacks the detail and subtlety. It's a complex design, decorative.
I read it in a college course. It's a long novel. In retrospect you could call it a bildungsroman. Tom was a good guy, full of vitality unlike his sour "brother".
Food fads have come and gone ever since humans had food choices (which has been a tiny fraction of human history). I saw this: Why we fell for clean eating.
I don't know who "we" refers to, but it didn't include me.
It was not long ago when the experts thought that cereal was the right breakfast food. That was mostly marketing, but Mr. Kellogg and others thought it might helpfully reduce sexual desire and promote clean thinking compared to "overstimulating" eggs, sausages, and pie for breakfast. Now "we" know cereal is garbage nutrition.
FYI, my usual breakfast is two coffees before my workout, and a protein shake afterwards. I am not claiming that that is "right" but it keeps me trim and strong. If I did manual labor all day on the farm, I'd go for eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, kippers, home fries, grits, and pie. We fed our young growing kids on breakfasts like that. Pancakes or waffles and bacon on Sunday.They grew, and got smart enough.
He and his wife have an antique shop, aka junk store. He bought a hoarder house in Canada, hoping to discover treasure in it. A strangely interesting story and a good time-waster.
Canada has wooden dumpsters.
Below is Part 1. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here. Part 5 here. There are many more, including segments about restoring the hoarder house into something delightful. I think a total of 16 or 18 youtubes. I watched them all over the past month. Tell me I need to get a life.
The entire USA will be at some football get-together on Sunday afternoon. Some people care about The Game, but for most, I think, it's just a good excuse to gather in the winter.
Nachos, guacamole, and other foods are classics. There are many websites dedicated to Superbowl party food, and some to "most disgusting Superbowl foods".
Beer is of course good. I like Coronavirus Extra with a slice of lime, if you have some. Nachos, guacamole? Disgusting.
What things are on your list for Superbowl disgusting food items?
My book stack is high enough for another 6 months. I have enough outdoor clothing (I do like to do outdoor things) for a lifetime. I have enough gym clothes for daily workouts if I do the wash weekly. For hunting and fishing gear I am ok. Too many firearms too, really.
So the family got me some of the usual rare stinky cheeses I love along with exotic jams to go with them. Also, a cool spy boardgame: Codenames. It makes you think about words.
They also gave me a trip, but to where remains a secret surprise to me. I hope it's low on museums, medium on quaint or historic architecture, and high on hiking, cafes, and vino. Provence might hit the spot, and I think the Hadrian's Wall hike is in the pipeline. I never know.
They did identify one thing I didn't really need but is an excellent layer: that featherweight Patagonia quilted vest. I don't like sweaters - too constricting - but I do like to feel relatively comfortable outdoors. A bit chilly is fine with me. Yeah, fleece is great too but heavier than this thing.
Next year I think I will get one of them for my lad.
Matt Guthmiller. Because of his get-up-and-go. Anywhere, any time. All this kid needs is Avgas, junk snacks, a friend or two, and a distant destination with cool food at the end. I do things, but he makes me feel like a pitiful stick-in-the-mud.
It's a heck of a tale. Somewhere around the first third of it it dawned on me that I had read it long ago, but that didn't matter because I had forgotten the ending.
Normal life is an everyday miracle, revealed in the warm embrace of mother and child, in the sweet songs of praise (Hallel) sung on festival days, at a family meal in the sukkah, in bride and groom under the wedding canopy. And yet, for Jews as ultimately for all human beings, normal life is a fragile miracle, one whose preservation requires a more-than-normal spirit, a more-than-normal courage, a more-than-normal faith.
Much of the stuff we own, or which we even value, has minimal monetary value or might even cost money to get rid of. It might be useful to us or of sentimental value or other sorts of personal value (that is true value, emotional value I suppose) but of no value to anybody else. Talking about meaning.
Monetary value is less than you think, and the effort to unload a possession of any monetary value is large. Just try getting rid of an over-aged piano. Pianos have life spans, unlike violins.
American Scholar's podcast on The Global Garage Sale. The interviewer is a bit of a nut, but the guy is interesting. They are both sort-of anti-consumption with a minimalist ethic. For the "environment," of course...Lots of our "good" stuff ends up in landfills despire our virtuous intentions.
I do know some people for whom the only value of anything is monetary.
I have said before that I believe that Scott Adams' idea of personal talent stacks is a good way of thinking about what people have to bring to the table in life. What is practical about that viewpoint is that one can always add to the stack. Might take some effort, but what else is new? Anybody can learn to code interfaces if they want to. Call it talents, call it skills, call it traits or learned traits, whatever.
For your pilot, you want a certain talent stack: ACTUAL DUAL ENGINE FAILURE IN A CITATION JET
A Merry Christmas and a happy holiday season to all of our readers and to all of our contributors, with thanks for being part of our humble Yankee enterprise
(No innocent trees were murdered for this card to compensate for murdering our Christmas tree)
I've been to a bunch of parties and some fancy parties this season, and heard some great music too, but the best was a neighborhood caroling get-together Friday night - adults and kids. Good food and drinks with around an hour of singing practice around the piano (divvying up the voices of the wise men, the soloist for O Holy Night, etc), then out tramping around and driving around in the dark to our target audiences. Shut-ins, an old friend and WW 2 Navy vet with Alzheimer's, guys on the job, friendly families. Mrs. BD feels that this neighborhood event is the most Christmassy thing we ever do.
I can guarantee that none of the kids who participate will ever forget it. Maybe they will pass it on when they grow up. Hope so. Fine traditions of family, friends, community, and faith do matter because they become embedded in our souls like little candlelights, lighting our dark corners through our entire lives.
O holy Child of Bethlehem Descend to us, we pray. Cast out our sin and enter in Be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell, O come to us, abide with us Our Lord Emmanuel.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
Clement Moore was a real New Yorker. His lifetime of scholarship is long forgotten, but his doggerel is a gem. His family farm was named "Chelsea", and it is still Chelsea. Moore's family church still stands, St. Peter's. Been there, amazing old woodwork inside.
Moore is buried uptown. We almost got to that cemetary on our last urban hike.
The German Christmas tree — a rootless and lifeless corpse — was never worthy of the day, and no one can say how far the spirit of rationalism which begins with the denial of Santa Claus, the supernatural filler of stockings, and ends with the denial of all things supernatural, has been fostered by the German Christmas trees, which have been adopted so widely in this country. … The Christmas tree, dropping melted wax upon the carpet, filling all nervous people with a dread of fire; banishing the juvenile delight of opening the well-filled stocking in the dim morning light, and diffusing the poison of rationalism thinly disguised as the perfume of hemlock, should have no place in our beloved land.
The entire USA will be at some football get-together on Sunday afternoon. Some people care about The Game, but for most, I think, it's just a good excuse to gather in the winter.
My book stack is high enough for another 6 months. I have enough outdoor clothing (I do like to do outdoor things) for a lifetime. I have enough gym clothes for daily workouts if I do the wash weekly. For hunting and fishing gear I am ok. Too many firearms too, really. 
