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.
Don't believe all of the disparaging things that are said about hovering, overly-involved "helicopter parents." Apparently it helps kids get into college. Washington Post. Probably annoys them, too. Whether it really helps them do life is another matter.
Bird Dog's pictures of downtown New York have gotten me in the mood to post some photos of houses from 'round these parts - the Belmont-Hillsboro neighborhood of Nashville, to be precise. This 1920s craftsman bungalow is about a good example as any of the style, and looks to have survived without any major changes or alterations (except for the poor decision to paint the stone foundation, and a tasteless iron railing, no doubt added in the 60s). A 1920s home catalog, advertising a similar type of house, had this to say about the plan:
"Nothing so stimulates and elevates a man as for his life companion to believe in him, and in no other way can a man show his appreciation of such confidence and trust as in the earnest endeavor to build her a home of her own. Any woman who has tact, forethought, and patience with her husband need not despair of owning eventually just such a home. . ."
Saw the Screwtape Letters today, a 90-minute off-broadway monologue by the subtle and crafty devil Screwtape which includes most of the memorable parts of CS Lewis' book. It is performed, appropriately, in Hell's Kitchen - in Saint Clement's Church.
Hell's Kitchen has come a long way over the past 20 years - what a hopping area which used to be creepy, dark, and semi-abandoned. I'd live there now in a flash. We had an excellent Turkish meal down there at Turkish Cuisine, with decent Turkish wines and Turkish dark beer. I am a big fan of the Turks and of their food - and that yogurt-mint sauce they make which is good on grilled lamb and everything else. It's not too easy to find good Turkish restaurants.
We took a nice stroll through the theater district to get over to the church/theater. On the cross-town shuttle from Grand Central, we met a group of 20 good gals from Ohio who came to NYC on a bus for a two-day shopping spree. They were all carrying these gigantic black vinyl shopping bags they found in Chinatown.
[I attended the Patriots press conference at "Sullivan Stadium On Steroids" in Foxborough Mass this week. I made a transcript of the proceedings, as best as I could remember them. They may be a little off here and there -- just a jot or tittle-- but this is the gist of it.]
Bill Belichick: I have some opening remarks if that's all right with you sportswriters. If it's not, I won't, because you are, of course, the sworn representatives of our fans by virtue of being in a print union and waiting for the last guy who did it to die of cirrhosis; so I defer to your judgement.
Sportswriters, in unision: Go ahead, you duplicitous pondscum.
BB: Thanks, and apologies to any pondscum or associated bacterium that are rightfully offended to be compared to me by you tribunes of accuracy.
I realize now, looking at you legions of dumpy middle-aged men, and women with big feet, that you're glaring at me because I'm dressed in a sweatshirt. You reasonably assume that I'm mocking you because it's nearly as casual as the white socks and mandals, front-butt cargo pants, and ill-fitting Hawaiian shirts with barbeque sauce dribbled down the front that you all wear all the time. It was not my intention to ruin your lives by wearing a simple hooded drawstring tunic, so from here on in, I'll be wrapped completely in duct tape, and Mr. Kraft has generously allowed me to set aside time from the Novenas I'm required to say for all the other teams to allow all you sportwriters to pull the tape off me at midfield, with a whipsaw motion, while you're all judging just how evil my post-game handshake is. I will now field questions.
Reporter: What steps have you taken to ensure that your team stops scoring points?
BB: Of course I apologize for scoring points against our opponents. It's unseemly. I tried putting both our second and third string quarterbacks into the games, but unfortunately the second string quarterback accidentally scored. I benched him for having the effrontery to score points during a football game, and luckily Matt Gutierrez tripped on one of the legs on the easy chair Redskins' Defensive Lineman Phillip Daniels had dragged out onto the field to sit in, and was unable to score.
Reporter: That doesn't answer my question, you rude jerk. What are you doing to avoid scoring points going forward? You jerk.
Last night, my wife and I we were talking. I said to her, "I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug."
She got up, unplugged my computer, and threw out my wine.
1. Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
2. Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
3. Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in "fine".
4. Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!
5. Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)
6. That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.
7. Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome.
8. Whatever: Is a women's way of saying F@!K YOU!
9. Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong?" For the woman's response refer to #3.
I am not being facetious. Law, like Medicine, is designed for the obsessional, exacting brain.
For example, read noted corporate law prof Bainbridge on the subject of corporate social responsibility. Fun stuff. He takes issue with populist nonsense about corporate function.
8% who read a blog at least once a month is higher than I might have guessed. Who knows - maybe this blog thing will be more than a passing fad. Personally, I have always loved newspapers and magazines, and I don't see any difference with online content, other than the amateurism (in the best sense of the word) - and the alternative to the arrogant, monotonous and socialist (socialist except when it comes to salary negotiations and stock price) MSM.
More on blogs, and the supposed "Top 100", at Gates. (No, we are not on that list: we haven't been fully "found" yet by all of the folks in the world who might find us life-enriching. But Tim Blair gave us a hand this weekend. Thanks, Tim.)
From Cheryl Miller's Claremont review of Edith Wharton by Hermione Lee (h/t, No Left Turns):
Edith Wharton, the massive new biography by Oxford English professor Hermione Lee, is the story of success: how Lee's formidable heroine survived a painful childhood, a disastrous marriage, an only slightly less disastrous love affair, repeated bouts of depression and illness, and the German occupation. Through it all, Wharton remained unflappable. Just two months before her death, she paid a visit to a friend and collaborator, the architect Ogden Codman, to discuss a new edition of their The Decoration of Houses- (one of Wharton's 48 books). "Everyone was on jump all the time," Codman complained of his frail but nevertheless commanding guest. Only a few days after she arrived, Wharton suffered a heart attack. As she was carried into the ambulance, she admonished her host: "This will teach you not to ask decrepit old ladies to stay."
You can visit Wharton's recently-restored Berkshire home and gardens, "The Mount," in lovely and civilized Lenox, MA. Been there. It's not too far from Maggie's Farm. A friend helped raise the money for the restoration, and they did a good job with it. They duplicated her formal garden designs.
Take the quiz, if you dare. 
Bird Dog's pictures of downtown New York have gotten me in the mood to post some photos of houses from 'round these parts - the Belmont-Hillsboro neighborhood of Nashville, to be precise. This 1920s craftsman bungalow is about a good example as any of the style, and looks to have survived without any major changes or alterations (except for the poor decision to paint the stone foundation, and a tasteless iron railing, no doubt added in the 60s). A 1920s home catalog, advertising a similar type of house, had this to say about the plan:
[I attended the Patriots press conference at "Sullivan Stadium On Steroids" in Foxborough Mass this week. I made a transcript of the proceedings, as best as I could remember them. They may be a little off here and there -- just a jot or tittle-- but this is the gist of it.]
1. Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
Nationally, eight percent of all consumers are blog (readers or contributors)....