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.
When Gutenberg printed his first Bible in 1455, is it possible he ever thought "I believe this technology will be outdated in 650 years"?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:
"Though Christmas is a religious holiday, secularists should appreciate its great contribution to Western Civilization: the lesson that all men are equal in their fundamental human dignity."
The celebration of Christmas has been a powerful teacher of the dignity of the human person. For Christians, Christmas is the feast of the Incarnation—the celebration of the moment when God became a man in order to live among men. It shows that God thought of human beings as worthy of being saved, and that he sought to save them by taking on humanity in a perfected form, thus opening the way to their own perfection. Christian belief in the Incarnation is thus inseparable from belief in the objective, and even transcendent, value of the human race as a whole, and of each human person as an individual.
In addition to your usual gift of a free subscription to Maggie's Farm, our present, once again, is an introduction to artist George Henry Durrie (1820-1863):
Born in Hartford, Connecticut, George Durrie was known as the "snowman" because of the many winter scenes he painted. He lived most of his life in New Haven and earned a reputation for rural landscape scenes, especially snow scenes, which he introduced as subject matter in American painting. His paintings "provide an excellent record of rural life in the mid-nineteenth century . . . and his carefully recorded details of nature and foliage added authenticity to his depictions."
This is Road to Boston, 1861. More of his work at this site.
The Monks of Norcia would like to wish you a Merry Christmas, as the nativity of Our Lord nears. We also want to share with you our most recent newsletter.
We thank you for being a part of our extended monastic family, as you provide much prayer and support for us throughout the year. May God bless you abundantly during this special season of Christmas.
Sincerely in Christ,
The Monks of Norcia
Regular readers know that the Bird Dog family, while Protestant in tradition (well, Mrs. BD is RC in tradition, Protestant in current practice), are fond of the Benedictine Monks of Norcia, offer them some modest support, and visited them, chatted with them and worshipped with them this past summer. Some American monks there.
Norcia was the home of St. Benedict. It is a joy and a privilege to support these people.
Not to seem irreverent, but the other reason to visit Norcia is for the food. They run buses up from Rome for the day just to eat and drink there, and to ride home in a wonderful Italian stupor with their bags of salumi, country wine, and dried stringozzi beside them. Possibly the best food in Italia: Porcini, Salumi, Cinghiale, Stringozzi, Polenta, Risotto, Tartuffo - and happily no spaghetti and no tomato sauce to be found.
Photo was our Italian Primo in Norcia - polenta with tartuffo sauce. The antipasto was also superb with the local cinghiale salumi and prosciutto, olives, and amazing Pecorino. As I recall, we had, as Secondo, Cighiali stew with porcini with a side of spinach with oil and garlic. That's real Italian. Can't beat it.
How come 99% of the people shopping in the malls, at Macy's, etc. are either overweight or plain fat?
I took a little seasonal tour in Manhattan, where, for sure, the average person on Madison Ave. or 5th Ave. looks a lot more shipshape than the average person in America. But other than that, do all of the fit, skinny people shop online? Or are most people wide loads these days? What's that about?
All the people I work with are pretty trim, in good shape, reasonably fashionable, and they do not go to malls, discount stores, or to Macy's. Nothing against Macy's, which is a fine store with tons of useful and pleasant stuff which I do not need but, at Bloomies, Saks, and Tiffany, people certainly are generally more attractive. Some people there clearly spend more money on Yoga, working out, and Botox than they spend on stuffing their faces with carbs, and I guess that is a strange segment of today's America too - people paying hard-earned money for the opportunity for physical effort at the gym. Sheesh. People should get paid for that effort instead of paying for it. Women used to say that "you can't be too thin or too rich," but I think both are in error.
There was a time in America when people paid you for physical labor, and a time when prosperous was fat. Crazy world. Oh, well, fat, medium, or fit - it's a free country. Best to be whatever you want, as long as you shop and spend!
All of my own minimal Christmas shopping is online, at my wine shop, or at my cigar shop, but I like to poke around town at holiday season for the fun of it. NYC is magical at Christmastime, Christmas cheer and decorations, and highly annoying Christmas Muzak (if I hear Drummer Boy one more time I promise to shoot myself), and wonderful Christmas Capitalism.
Put it on the Mastercard, suckers! It's priceless. Do it for Jesus!
It's the 50th anniversary of Alvin Ailey's "Revelations." The Ailey Company is at City Center, NYC, until Jan 2. Rock-a my soul, and Fix Me Jesusl - the Ailey is still going strong with the great Judith Jamison in charge.
Got nice tix for the whole fam as Christmas present (except for baby, who will be filming in Vietnam - and she had better email us pics for Maggie's) for Christmas week (Shhh. Don't tell my family - it's one of my surprise tix-and-dinner presents and one of Mrs. BD's favorites).
Here are some bits of recent "Revelations" performances. Wonderful stuff, ain't it, Marianne? Stay with it through the breaks - it's a bunch of snippets:
Readers know that I am opposed to mortgage interest deductions. As I view it, these are mainly an indirect subsidization for the construction industry, with incidental apparent benefit to the homeowner - paid for by renters.
I say "apparent" because it is no real benefit to mortgage-holders. After all, without that tax deduction home prices would necessarily be lower to be affordable by your price range.
Same thing applies to all products: subsidies, subsidized loans, grants, favoring policies, etc. distort markets and make things more inefficient and, in the end, more costly more everybody. It's the Law of Unintended - Intended - Consequences.
Here's an example in the news: Real-World Evidence Showing that Unemployment Insurance Benefits Increase Unemployment. Big surprise there, right? I am not opposed to unemployment insurance, but my point is that markets, including labor markets, still work like markets no matter how much they are distorted by policies. Just boulders in the river until they become dams. If people want to take a lengthy sabbatical on unemployment, they will take it until it runs out. That's quite rational and legal, if undignified and exploitative.
Higher ed is a great example. Student loans, grants, and favoring policies simply make it feasible for schools to charge more and to spend more. But where is that money going?
You know where it is going. It's payola to schools. It is going to burgeoning highly-paid admin staff, slick new dorms, mindless PC programs, marketing, and other baloney which has nothing to do with the education which is supposedly being bought by feckless and sacrificing parents, and state-taxpayers.
Hot tubs and basketball teams? Give me a break. College is not supposed to be either High School or babysitting.
I was listening to All Things Considered on the car radio and heard this very beautiful, haunting Franz Schubert song, "Hurdy-Gurdy Man" in English, a Hurdy-Gurdy Man playing a stringed instrument to attract attention to his wares or to get charity. On the show, it was recommended by a son remembering his father trudging 10-miles through cold and snow to a menial job to put food on the table. The Youtube has the English translation.
There are many who are unfortunate through little fault of their own. In this season of extra giving, it is well to remember them and donate to worthy charities that help them.
The All Things Considered story is worth the read.
The studies like this, of course, are more correlation than causation, but, in my experience, red-blooded men require more than three. The healthier fellows will be more vigorous and horny, so they will have more of these things. Strong young men in energetic relationships seem to need 2-3 per day.
But what about women? How many orgasms per week correlate with health and well-being?
The first keyboard I ever approached was an 1800s Mason & Hamlin single manual reed organ, technically a harmonium. The wind is generated by vacuum-generating bellows (hence "suction reed organ") pumped by the feet of the organist. From a technical standpoint, these are like upright accordions with an organ-like sound.
My Grandpa salvaged it when the local Congregational church bought a new organ. He kept it in his living room, and the elderly, old maid church organist would stop by, unannounced. to play the old thing until she died.
Today, old reed organs are thrown in the garbage, but I think it's a shame. They are of an era when these were all small congregations could afford. Some folks had them in their homes, too: "Parlor organs." You can find them cheap on eBay, but often people will be grateful if you will just take them away.
Did I mention that mice like to live in them? My parents finally threw the old thing in a dumpster because I failed to take it away myself in a reasonable period of time. My fault.
This fellow explains how to use the foot bellows to affect the playing of a reed organ:
The first tune I learned to play on it was the hymn Work For The Night Is Coming. It is not just a song of toil and death, but a song of toil in God's fields and pastures, and I still love it. Here's the only half-decent version I could find on YouTube (on piano, not reed organ - lyrics here):
No, it's not about the Moslem immigrants; it's about government-enabled cultural change. His piece contains too many good points for me to pick just one quote.
Steve Diamond made an interesting post last week describing the longstanding tension between the brain/behavioral and the mind/psychodynamic camps in psychology as a civil war. I have written here a number of times about this conflict, one that is at the heart of what is happening in psychiatry as well (if you are interested in the state of affairs in mental health, you really should read 1BoringOldMan who does a superb job of taking apart the trail of studies and inflated promises that got us here). I wish that what we are in were a civil war because then at least there would be active debate and engagement on these issues, but the takeover of psychology by the cognitive behavioral/brain folks is near complete on the academic level so that many younger clinicians have no idea of what is/was missing in their training. My side, the psychodynamic/mind side finds voice mostly through blogs like this one and those of other likeminded psychologists, psychoanalysts and psychiatrists. But together our voices are far less audible than those of the pharmaceutical and insurance companies and those of mental health professionals whose careers have been built on the effort to topple us. And the average person seeking help has no idea that these issues even exist. Yeah, it makes me kind of pessimistic at times.
I often feel that same way. Much of Psychiatric writing today has become so "medicalized," or "pseudo-medicalized," that you get the sense that it is check lists being treated rather than real people. Indeed, the two views of the patient - the hurting person - have developed different languages such that they cannot communicate well, and the alienation has become so extreme that I have heard them accuse eachother of malpractice.
Some of us attempt to straddle the divide, but it is difficult to rapidly alternate world-views.
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.
In addition to your usual gift of a free subscription to Maggie's Farm, our present, once again, is an introduction to artist George Henry Durrie (1820-1863):
Dear Friends,
How come 99% of the people shopping in the malls, at Macy's, etc. are either overweight or plain fat? 
The first keyboard I ever approached was an 1800s Mason & Hamlin single manual