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.
We made it to the final night of the Ailey's NYC season at City Center last night. Mrs. BD commented that Ailey is now the only modern dance company that can fill a large venue in NYC for three weeks straight. Yes, they did Ailey's Revelations, along with some Paul Taylor and a very cool piece by Ohad Naharin. A jolly, sold-out, and enthused crowd.
We tried the pre-theater supper at the famous olde Russian Tea Room for nostalgia's sake. Good vodka, same olde atmosphere, the Russian food not great (certainly not as good as when Jackie O hung out there) but the Vodka selection was excellent - around 40 varieties. The lad and I had the Russian Standard (their vodka shots come ice-cold in little flute glasses). OK, I know - the place has become a little tourist trap for Euro-trash celeb-seeking visitors, but it's still kinda fun and they do have a good caviar selection on their regular menu (We think Petrossian a great place for mid-town caviar etc., but Maggie's Farm is not Zagat's):
Fix Me Jesus, from Revelations. What Christian has never prayed for that? The pupette and her pals loved it all. So did I. It was my second time.
Some old friends were back in the NY area for the holidays. Rather than stay at a hotel, they watch friends' homes who are also traveling. Last year, I was jealous of the fact they were staying in a house that George Washington had slept in. This year, they stayed in the same house. After a nice dinner at a local pub, they invited us over.
The house as it appeared in 1919:
The house is known as The Timothy Ball House in Maplewood, NJ. It's not open to tours, because it's a private residence. The owners do let in groups of local school children to see the portions of the original structure which are intact and visit the room that Washington literally slept in.
The Ball family were Washington's cousins, Mary Ball having been his mother. Washington would stop by while the troops were wintering in Morristown (which they did over two brutal winters, the second far more difficult than Valley Forge), because a view from the ridge in Maplewood allowed him clear access to watch English troop movements in Elizabeth and Staten Island.
AA Daily Reflections online. You do not need to be an alcoholic to benefit from them because we all have grievous flaws and faults and, if we aspire to be more worthy people, we can use anything that helps.
The notion of the 12 steps came from the evangelical Oxford Group movement of the 1930s, whose first "step" was "We admitted that we were powerless over sin." (The author of the linked piece seems to view AA as a dangerous cult.)
To be spiritually reborn, the Oxford Group advocated four practices:
1. The sharing of our sins and temptations with another Christian life given to God. 2. Surrender our life past, present and future, into God's keeping and direction. 3. Restitution to all whom we have wronged directly or indirectly. 4. Listening for God's guidance, and carrying it out.
Good stuff. Reborn is good. Otherwise, it's just all about me - and I ain't all that great.
Here Bill Wilson discusses the construction of the 12 Steps. I am no expert on AA (and am happy to be corrected on any misunderstandings), but my impression is that Bill Wilson did believe that only God could rescue him - and many others - from their personality flaws (in Wilson's case, possibly some sociopathic and narcissistic tendencies) and addictions (in Wilson's case, alcohol).
Doctors do not have the power to cure addictions, and no Psychiatrist would claim it (if they are, indeed, "curable"). It seems to me that only things like AA have the power to combat them - and to help people grow to higher levels of sanity, maturity, and realism - possibly higher levels than those who never had deal with these things. As my pastor says, only God can do it, but that could be said of all healing.
Feel free to tell us about any AA experiences you might have had.
The visually stunning, dreamlike new production at the Met last night knocked our socks off. The lacy ninjas running around and the traditional Japanese puppetry were, I felt, very cool. I don't get to opera too often these days - maybe twice or three times a year. It's always fun for me to realize that Butterfly was the pop, commercial music of 1904 despite being a sort of soul music with nary a hummable tune. Wagnerian touches, but lyrical and conversational, lush and still subtle. Butterfly was like avant-garde rock, or maybe the REM of the time.
'Twas my Christmas treat for some of my kids (Yes, K - you are one of mine now). One more Big Apple Treat tomorrow for the lucky bambinos before regular life resumes.
I suppose we are Puccini fans, but who isn't? Genius, with a musical complexity beyond my comprehension but fully within the ability to touch me. We visited his house in old Lucca, and his home church where he learned keyboard, two years ago but it feels like yesterday. Carpe diem...
This is not the diva we saw last night. We had the charming Canadian Liping Zhang, not Patricia Racette. It's a tough role, on stage non-stop and singing for three hours. Willing suspension of disbelief - Racette does not look 15 years old but it is Butterfly's youth and innocence which explains the tragic story. Nowadays, it might be considered a story about pedophilia and a dirty old man, but 15 used to be considered marriageable and still is, most places on the planet. Maybe a good idea...
Mrs. BD comments "Can you imagine Leontyne Price playing Butterfly?" No, and yes. (She did.) I always study an opera in advance, and then listen more afterwards. Listened to this bit at least 10 times today, between cleaning-up-Christmas tasks - takes me a long time to get a piece of music because, much as I love it and as much as it can reach my soul, I am musically-retarded (it's a Learning Disability! Where's my free money and goodies for that Disability?)
Can you hear the "waves of grain" with the American naval officer horny rascal Pinkerton, here?:
A few pics below the fold - but not of the production itself. I would not violate their rule because I love what they do for those of us who save our pennies for such wonderful experiences, and pass them on to the next generation as precious gifts.
Another year is over of Bird Dog dragging you to a museum or a show in Manhattan. Now, for a quick tour of the San Diego area...where the betters live better.
Friends are visiting from New York for a few days. They’re staying in the downtown Gaslamp.
This used to be the area south of Market full of strip joints, seedy bars, and such. Over the past twenty years it has become a magnet of fine restaurants, dance clubs, fancy hotels, with the huge Convention Center along the bay, next to the excellent sightlines from every seat Petco ball park. San Diego's costs are a fraction of New York’s. My friend is an expert on the Near East. They had dinner Thursday night at an Afghani restaurant, which they both said was some of the best they’d had from that part of the world. The weather this week: 70F+ and sunny.
Yesterday, I took them to Old Town, several acres of authenticish early Spanish and Anglo San Diego...
(Lots more of a tour of lovely San Diego below the fold)
6 years ago, as we prepared to move to a new house, my wife and I decided to 'declutter'. Since then, we have been in permanent declutter mode, because having too much stuff around is a pain. Not only that, but as the saying goes "one man's trash is another man's treasure." Well, not so much trash, but if I'm not using it, it may was well be trash.
In order to get rid of household items, we utilized a variety of services. The most well known would be Craigslist and Ebay. After all, you can make a few bucks while in the process of getting rid of useful things you consider junk. However, my wife also stumbled on Freecycle.
We use it through Yahoo! Groups, but you can join on the web. It's free, it's easy to use, and you do nothing more than post what you're offering and what town you're in. The person then picks it up at your door.
When I was on my way to the airport one early morning, my cab driver told me she was recently divorced and havig a rough time. She had picked up several things from us on Freecycle saying "you people have been a godsend." Another person sent me an email telling me that the barely used Heelies (kids wheeled sneakers) were the hit of an otherwise difficult Christmas. For our part, we rarely take, but last spring somebody posted "As many perennials as you can dig," and we wound up spending an hour digging up plants which now fill a previously bland portion of our backyard.
If you haven't tried it, or aren't familiar, Freecycle (Yahoo! link) can help you clean up as 2012 begins, while helping out others at the same time. It's not for everybody, but I'm a devotee.
A former intern at my office is now working with this speaker and directed me to this presentation. It's a fascinating discussion of choice. Recently, there was a post on Maggie's about the Runaway Boxcar. How do we approach choice in a crises? Stress alters how we make choices, as well as how we view them. So, too, does culture. At times, the speaker in this video criticizes American views of, and approaches to, choice. It is unfortunate, because the entire presentation is wonderful. She points out Americans could benefit by incorporating more collaborative approaches to choice, as opposed to the highly individualistic view we tend to have. But she fails to mention other cultures lack the insight the American perspective has, and could benefit from more choice, rather than less. It is also worth noting that the American perspective allows for greater collaborative approaches to choice, whereas other cultures tend to look down on individualistic views.
Choice is difficult. Choices can, at times, be paralyzing. But it doesn't mean that more choice is always the answer or that the American narrative on choice is wrong. It just means the American narrative of choice is different, and that American history shows more choice may not be better, but yields better overall results.
And, honestly, I can tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. They have very distinct and different tastes. Coke is better (to me).
The college pupette sends us her first small batch of photos from Nam. Small hotel or friend's apartment? I can't tell. "district 3, tran quoc thao, ho chi minh"
I have no idea why Flickr says "April 2008" because these are from earlier today. Hope she keeps 'em coming.
From recent morning links, I get the impression that the goal of the Maine legislature is to put everybody in the state on Welfare, and to have nobody working except them.
Well, as if a job in a state legislature were "work." Let's face it - it's a title, not a job.
They happen to have elected a semi-revolutionary governor. That might help. Politically, Maine is a strange little state. It has papermills, gigantic tree farms aka forests, a bit of lobstering, marginal potato farms and berry farms, a hundred dead old mill towns, the town of Portland which contains more doctors than people (big retiree town for Yankees who reject Florida ways), a fancy recreational coastline for prosperous New Yorkers and yachtsmen. Fair fishing and hunting, too.
Nobody moves there except drug dealers. And our friend theEditor of the Rumford Meteor. Perhaps he can explain to us the state of mind of the State of Maine sometime.
The government of the state would be in fine shape if they could tax meth and pot.
Love that photo. All anybody needs for a good wedding.
The Wall St. daughter's pup was visiting this weekend. Nice sweater, eh? This Yorkie pup, named Emily (from Devil Wears Prada) has quite an elegant wardrobe. They have hair, not fur, so they get cold. Yorkies were bred to be ratters. They do like to chase and destroy little dog toys with their tiny sharp teeth. They have ADHD, I think.
I know, I know: it is shameless to use dog pics to build traffic.
We are putting our other, youngest, college daughter on a plane to Saigon Ho Chi Minh City this afternoon, via Shanghai, with a pocketful of cash, a backpack, a carry-on, and her best camera. She's done a fair amount of world-traveling on her own and with us, so it's no big deal for her. Like me, she travels casually. She threw some stuff into her bags in 15 minutes this morning like I do. She's doing a film. She promises to email pics, but she probably won't bother because she is always driven to focus on her immediate goal, and ignores everything peripheral to it. Goal-directed almost to a fault, which seems to be what life requires these days. A terrier. She'll be meeting an American friend in Hanoi via the train at some point. I gave her a kiss and had to say "Kill a Commie for Christ." Somehow, PC eludes me and I always say the totally wrong thing, even on Christmas Day. Harvard would fire me.
My Vietnam Vet pal Gwynnie asked "She's going there voluntarily?" My parents felt that way about Germany.
Flight from NYC to Shanghai almost touches the North Pole, so we suggested a hearty shout-out "Thanks" to Santa. He deserves it. He brought me a new leather office chair. Those Great Circle air routes are always surprising, aren't they, until you get used to them?
I had thought she was planning to go straight from Nam to Prague in three weeks but she decided to schedule to come back home for a few days first because it's tropical in Nam, winter in Prague. Change of chic wardrobe. Wanted to catch a play or two in NYC, and to grab some fresh cash (but she knocks herself out almost beyond belief to fund her adventures). Sheesh. The kids these days are so ambitious, determined, goal-directed, adventurous, and hard-working - much more than my peer group ever was. Like many of the hip youths these days, she loves Ron Paul. Sheesh, again. "Dad, Libertarianism is the only right, principled thing for the American attitude." "OK, sweetie. Whatever."
All three of my kids crack me up, each in his/her own way. Where the heck did they come from? From God. I take no credit or blame.
Want to read a good, short Christmas vignette today? Sipp's Open Is A Time.
When Gutenberg printed his first Bible in 1455, is it possible he ever thought "I believe this technology will be outdated in 650 years"? Doubtful. In fact, he probably didn't even care.
We do care about change, though. Mainly because it is part of our lives. Change shapes us and molds us, even as we create the change we seek in our own lives. For Gutenberg, much of life was relatively the same over the course of time. By the time Benjamin Franklin was a printer 300 years later, he was still using essentially the same technology Gutenberg had created. Some revisions had taken place, but it was still a very manual process and the nature of the process would not seem unfamiliar to Gutenberg.
It's been about 100 years since men like Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst changed the business of publishing. How would they have reacted to a blog like Maggie's? Could they have envisioned the future and recognized opportunity? It's possible, but more likely they would have feared the shift in message delivery systems and fought the new technology. Our perceptions about what we do and where we are going is shaped by what we've have done in the past. As a result, we tend to react poorly to new ideas and products which don't fit neatly into the way we believe life should progress. 25 years ago, we would have considered it odd to think that a TV would hang on a wall or that we could purchase virtually everything we needed as we watched a TV program.
This is the sort of thing I might expect from a lesser, more insecure institution but it is, after all, where Larry Summers got whacked for daring to opine that women might be slightly different from men.
It's creepy as hell, stupid on so many levels, and a good example of pantywaist Dhimmitude too. In fact, you could characterize the Harvard faculty's response as hate speech against the truly peaceful Hindus. Robespierre was like this. Eventually, they decided to remove his head from the rest of his body, too. There's the rub.
It's getting so there are so many things you aren't supposed to say these days...can't even say to a chick in the office that "Hey, you look great today." So no "hate speech" - and no "love speech" either. Or is "love speech" covert "hate speech" because it is demeaning? It's difficult to know, anymore, because it seems OK for them to say to me "You look hot today." I don't really mind being "objectified" as a sex object by women, however. I deserve it, and I enjoy it because I must be an evil part of the partriarchy (or a skirt-chaser, which I am, along with every other red-blooded single guy), or whatever.
Over the years, I think I have posted many things here that would get me fired from Harvard. Things about appreciating pretty girls, things about gals being different from guys, things about Jihadists being a danger to civil civilization, things about Lefties being closet fascists, silly mockery of radical Feminists and of the "Transgender Community" - they have a community? - and plenty of other no doubt dangerous, verboten topics. Somebody should just wire my jaw and cut off my fingers. It's all insane. (Is saying they're all insane impermissible "hate speech"?)
What is this, North Korea? Well, they used to hang Quakers in Boston and burn witches in the suburbs. Veritas, indeed. They should change their motto to "Political Veritas du Jour" instead.
Fortunately for me, I now work for an increasingly-profitable evil Capitalist busiiness where my job is to add value and productivity, instead of for wealthy Harvard which hoards its charity-given, tax-deductible billions and refuses to share it with the struggling 99%. Catch you all around the corner. I'm headed north for family and skiing with friends this week. I'd better play it safe here before I get in trouble, so Happy Kwanzaa and Merry Solstice to our wonderful readers.
I am not a knowledge-nihilist, but readers know that I take everything I hear with a grain of salt. Stupid not to.
The big thing in recent years for theoretical physicists is the replacement of the notion of the "universe" with the notion of the "multiverse." A quote from The accidental universe: Science's crisis of faith:
The history of science can be viewed as the recasting of phenomena that were once thought to be accidents as phenomena that can be understood in terms of fundamental causes and principles. One can add to the list of the fully explained: the hue of the sky, the orbits of planets, the angle of the wake of a boat moving through a lake, the six-sided patterns of snowflakes, the weight of a flying bustard, the temperature of boiling water, the size of raindrops, the circular shape of the sun. All these phenomena and many more, once thought to have been fixed at the beginning of time or to be the result of random events thereafter, have been explained as necessary consequences of the fundamental laws of nature—laws discovered by human beings.
This long and appealing trend may be coming to an end. Dramatic developments in cosmological findings and thought have led some of the world’s premier physicists to propose that our universe is only one of an enormous number of universes with wildly varying properties, and that some of the most basic features of our particular universe are indeed mere accidents—a random throw of the cosmic dice. In which case, there is no hope of ever explaining our universe’s features in terms of fundamental causes and principles.
Read the whole thing. Science fiction, epistemology, God - it's all on the table. All uplifting, bedazzling, profoundly confusing, and probably more the stuff of poetry than of prose. I have no doubt that Really Big Reality is beyond human perception, comprehension or imagination. I am prone to term that swirl of transendent incomprehensibility "God." Not a tame lion, as CS Lewis said. Sometimes reality seems mystical, and labelled "mysticism" just a pale copy.
And, despite it all, we all get up in the morning, say our prayers, get dressed, grab a Dunkin, go to the gym, take a shower, and get to work. Even the theoretical physicists and the priests and minsters do it.
Lots of things drive men, but few are as powerful as the animal instincts which create the attraction between a man and a woman. Many times I've uttered the phrase "Yeah, she's hot" with other buddies of mine. But I've never stopped to consider the differentiation between 'hot' and 'pretty'. Hot is an attraction, a magnet and promotes a desire which is usually more salacious than meaningful. Pretty is also an attraction, but requires thought and consideration. Pretty has lasting qualities. Hot can be fleeting.
I thought this article, forwarded to me by a female friend, was a terrific summation of the difference. I differ from the author in that I'm all for 'hotness' at the right time and place, and in limited doses. Hotness shouldn't be the only selling point. One of the problems of hotness is that it can be too easily revealed to be a charade.
One benefit of pretty is that it can be made to appear hot (as the Olivia Newton-John example points out). It can be stepped back, if necessary. Sometimes, however, hotness is just a veil and we are going to be disappointed with what's really there. The Legends of Micronesia often utilize themes of this sort, people, ghosts and gods who improve their appearance to entice people and promote a disastrous end.
...charity and compassion are always the actions of autonomous people acting as individuals. And, however much intellectuals try to argue otherwise, socialism in the end has to trade on envy and resentment, just as surely as tentative lovers discover that they cannot after all confine themselves to just holding hands, or a stolen kiss. Soon enough people are taken to be good or kindly only if they espouse the correct socialist opinions - we see this all around us in the present age - and human sympathy gets redefined in doctrinal terms.
Yet although left-wing assumptions have captured the intellectual elites of the western world - the humanities are almost dead - they have had limited impact on older people untouched by the bureaucratic and academic caste.
In my little old conservative Connecticut town, people help eachother every day. In fact, we do everything we can to assist eachother. The beauty of collectivism, charity, mutual help, etc. lies in its voluntariness, its mutuality, and in its local-ness. When there are guns and jails behind it (as via government), all of the beauty and love are lost and it just devolves into political power and into legal, armed plunder.
Infantile utopian dreams, in real life, quickly turn into real nightmares. They scare the heck out of me.
What a seemingly-simple poem it is. A prayer, really. The sly Robert Frost claimed he wrote it in one minute, but anything that simple usually takes a long time to get right.
Winter solstice, the longest night of the year in these here parts. Julius Caesar placed it on December 25 (for the convenience of Santa and his reindeer, of course), but it's more accurately placed today. Sad to say, the US climate has been getting colder in recent years. Call it "climate change" and spend a lot of time worrying about it (remember - not using plastic grocery bags will make a really, realy big difference in making it colderwarmer whatever).
It's not mid-winter for a month or so, but just the beginning of what we hope will be another invigoratingly chilly and snowy one:
Here's how we keep it simple and organized in the BD household: We store the Christmas stuff in chests of drawers in the living room. Nothing to lug up and down, no boxes, etc.
Another good trick: throw your tree lights in the garbage, and buy new ones each year. Something strange happens to them during a year's storage. Not really worth saving, between the untangling and the dead bulbs.
Our pal Gwynnie makes it even simpler: he has his fake tree pre-wired, and just drags it up from the basement. I am not ready for that level of decadence. Sheesh. Why not just keep the ornaments on it too, and lower it on a wire from a niche in the attic, then spray Balsam fragrance on it? Just email me, Gwynnie, and I'll give you a hand. I like Christmas trees.
We had our family Christmas last night. The kids will be away, all over the planet (Vietnam then Czecho, Birmingham Alabama, etc) on the 25th. We had Lobster hors d'oevres, Butternut Squash soup with my special herb and parmesan crouton on top, Italian pork loin with bay in wine vinegar, roast taters, beets, Brussel Sprouts in oil, and Christmas Tree Cake plus a mountain of Italian pastries ("Don't forget the cannolis"). All with either champagne, or Martinelli's for the teetotalers.
We're planning our little neighborhood Christmas Eve light supper before church, as we always do. Cocktails and Eggnog, poached salmon with dill and yoghurt sauce - then run off to church to sing carols. Nice. I have always felt that Christmas Eve with family, neighbors, and friends is more special than Christmas day. It's like anticipation of a birth. However, with Christmas on Sunday this year, I think we'll go to church then too. Why not? Church always does me good.
Off to the Big City now for a first delivered Christmas present - The Voices of Ascension at the Metropolitan Museum with dinner after with my in-laws (we focus on events and experiences - not stuff - for Christmas treats. Feeding the soul is how I think of these things.)
I buy no things, or almost none. Cool experiences last forever, but stuff is just stuff that takes up space, and I have enuf guns and neckties.) Man, did I get some good, fun tix for this holiday season including some Met Museum Christmas singing tix, some Met Opera Butterfly tix, ballet and dance tix, etc. for the kiddies. There is nothing better than dinner and tix in NYC for memorable Christmas season treats. No NYCB Nutcracker - seen that enough times. Once is wonderful but, like magic, once is enough. OK, maybe twice. Nobody does it better...
Pic is a relaxed Christmas Dog. I need to get a good pic of the BD daughter's pup too. We always pretend to detest tiny dogs, but you cannot help but love them once you meet and get to know them. These little things just crack you up. I just worry that my pup will bite its head off in playfulness.
It ain't over 'til the fat lady sings. Tough to find a 15 year-old Butterfly, so they don't even try:
Dominican Brother "Angelico" spent more of his career in the Dominican Friary of San Marco in Fiesole (just outside Florence).
That old friary is now a convent. You can visit the chapel just by hopping off the Firenze to Fiesole bus at the tobacco shop on the corner, which is what we did. We were the only people there. In fact, we had to bang on the door to get somebody to come and unlock the chapel for us. We like staying in the Fiesole hills and busing down to town, just like Lorenzo di Medici used to do on his Vespa.
It's better to look at art in situ than in museums. Fra Angelico's Nativity, in that chapel:
A 
Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
From recent morning links, I get the impression that the goal of the Maine legislature is to put everybody in the state on Welfare, and to have nobody working except them. 
This is the sort of thing
I am not a knowledge-nihilist, but readers know that I take everything I hear with a grain of salt. Stupid not to. 
Lots of things drive men, but few are as powerful as the animal instincts which create the attraction between a man and a woman. Many times I've uttered the phrase "Yeah, she's hot" with other buddies of mine. But I've never stopped to consider the differentiation between 'hot' and 'pretty'. Hot is an attraction, a magnet and promotes a desire which is usually more salacious than meaningful. Pretty is also an attraction, but requires thought and consideration. Pretty has lasting qualities. Hot can be fleeting.
A rambling and interesting essay by David Wemyss: 
Here's how we keep it simple and organized in the BD household: We store the Christmas stuff in chests of drawers in the living room. Nothing to lug up and down, no boxes, etc.