Wednesday, February 14. 2007
 It's OK. The court says so. And where are you going to meet appropriate people anyway - at Guido's Pizza and Lounge? From Meyerson at WaPo. A perfect Valentine's Day item:
In August 2005, I wrote a column about a recent National Labor Relations Board (Republican majority thereof) ruling that upheld the legality of a company's banning its employees from fraternizing off the job, citing as a woozy precedent a previous ruling that had banned hotel employees from fraternizing with guests. Earlier this month, the D.C Court of Appeals overturned that 2005 ruling -- reaffirming, broadly speaking, that the employer-employee relationship isn't that of a lord to a serf, and, more narrowly, that happy hour with your co-workers is your true-blue American right.
 Quoted from Amerisearch:
In the third century, Roman Emperor Claudius the Goth not only commanded that the Roman gods must be worshipped, but he temporarily forbade marriage, because he believed single men made better soldiers. Legend has it that Bishop Valentine risked the Emperor's wrath by refusing to worship idols and for secretly marrying young couples. Valentine was dragged before the Prefect of Rome, who condemned him to be beaten to death with clubs and have his head cut off on February 14, 269AD. While awaiting execution, it is said he prayed for the jailers' sick daughter, who miraculously recovered. He wrote her a note and signed it, "from your Valentine." In 496 AD, Pope Gelasius designated February 14th as “Saint Valentine’s Day.”
Thus a Saint's Day on which to remember the lengths to which sacrificial love can go. The secularized version of this Saint's Day has eliminated the example of Christ, and the faith of St. Valentine, and retained only the tradition of the clubbing to death to which all fellows can be subject if they do not please their wife and/or girlfriend(s).
Tuesday, February 13. 2007
Sunday, February 11. 2007
Read Ankle Biting's depressing most recent (it is becoming a daily event) example of news distortion - this re Dem/press lies about Medicare), but he cheers you up at the end with Shane MacGowan doing Dirty Old Town. (fixed that link) And if you liked that, you can hear Fairytale of New York here. Lyrics here.
 Because recycling is stupid and ignorant. This fact is widely known, but it's heretical to say outloud. Recycling has become a sacred cow. Penn and Teller tell it like it is, as usual (h/t, LGF).
No, it's beyond stupid - it's a rip-off. Except for aluminum cans, not only is it a fraud, but it makes Iron Eyes Cody cry because recycling hurts Gaia. But people want easy ways to feel virtuous, which is "nice" but not always wise. But don't take that simple pleasure away from them, right? Even if it wastes oil to recycle? And costs them money - for nothing? Pure self-deception. But people will do anything easy to feel self-satisfaction. The only thing that benefits from recycling are the garbage companies that feed off the government subsidies. It's about the same sort of genius concept as biofuels, which require more energy to produce than they contain - and raise the price of staples in poor parts of the world, and destroy forests by subsidizing non-market-based farming in sensitive areas. But it does take money from the Middle East and from Chavez, which is good. I am going to buy a hybrid, but not to please the Greenies. I will put a bumper sticker on it: Drive a Hybrid: Take a Bomb from a Moslem. Or maybe: Screw Chavez: Drive a Hybrid. Or maybe both. To deprive these folks of income is the least I can do for the earth.
Saturday, February 10. 2007
Friday, February 9. 2007
If you choose to hand-address Christmas cards (as they should be), but are too lazy to write "Mr. and Mrs. P. Chuffington Badlington-Smythe III" on your cards, but opt instead to write "The Badlington-Smythes" - how do you write it? With or without an apostrophe in "Smythes"? If an apostrophe, where? Or do you just dodge the entire grammatical issue by using the overly-casual "The Badlington-Smythe Family"? There is no implied possessive that I can find, so why any apostrophe? Unless it is short for "The Badlington-Smythe's House." But you don't send a card to a house.
Depending on how you count it, Maggie's Farm is either one or two years old today. Our first year was under the radar - no sitemeter, no stats, etc. - invisible, in the womb. So we could call this our First Official Birthday. All of us farm slaves spend all of the time we are not busy plowing and pruning fruit trees and milking the chickens and feeding the cows and sucking the sap out of Sugar Maples and popping rats at the dump, chained to our PCs in the Maggie's Farm unheated basement amidst squealing mice, flaking asbestos, toxic molds of all sorts, an oil-soaked dirt floor, and dripping pipes, illuminated only by smoking lamps fueled with old recycled tractor oil, required to either Think or Link for our daily allottments of gruel. Yep, "Think or Link." That's what the sign says that hangs from the creaking, termite-infested rafters. Consider that setting when you read us. Those are not tear stains on these pages - they are spots from leaks from the water pipes overhead. Well, most of them. The best present we could receive: Call the SWAT Team and get us out of here Let all your friends, enemies, neighbors, bosses, underlings, kids, colleagues, etc. know about Maggie's. A shame for them to miss out on this pretty good thing. And if you are a blogger, throw us a blogroll. It's a vanity thing. If you are a reader, please leave comments. Sometimes our comment threads contain certain glimmers of humor, and indications - if not proof - of human intelligence. Thanks to our current regular commenters (all highly bribed paid for their work). Other readers: don't be shy. If you have a minute, pitch in. We will pay you equally well. Our mission is simple: To provide a steady stream of stuff that interests or amuses or enrages or delights us, with no ads, with complete free speech and total indifference to the political correctness of the moment, with total independence, with irreverence towards all, with a dose of skepticism towards everything except the US Constitution, and with a deep gratitude for the founders, the traditions, the foundations, and the blessed but shrinking freedom from state power in the USA - and most of all for the God of our Fathers. The official Maggie's Farm hymn (midi music file on link) was written for the Centennial celebration of July 4th: God of our fathers, Whose almighty hand
Leads forth in beauty all the starry band
Of shining worlds in splendor through the skies
Our grateful songs before Thy throne arise. Thy love divine hath led us in the past,
In this free land by Thee our lot is cast,
Be Thou our Ruler, Guardian, Guide and Stay,
Thy Word our law, Thy paths our chosen way. From war’s alarms, from deadly pestilence,
Be Thy strong arm our ever sure defense;
Thy true religion in our hearts increase,
Thy bounteous goodness nourish us in peace. Refresh Thy people on their toilsome way,
Lead us from night to never ending day;
Fill all our lives with love and grace divine,
And glory, laud, and praise be ever Thine. Thanks for visiting us, and thanks to Green Mountain Boy Chris for keeping us up and running. Onward and upward.
Thursday, February 8. 2007
 Physicists at Harvard have been able to play all sorts of games with light.
Astonishing, but I guess the math predicts it. NYT Science Times.
Wednesday, February 7. 2007
The Pakistan steam railroad, over the historically critical Khyber Pass, between Pakisatan and Afghanistan. You can do it. Margaret Vladisova did, and posted her photos here. 
Tuesday, February 6. 2007
"Pre-posterous." Literally, the front following; that is, the cart before the horse. Chundering - barfing Chuntering - bitching
By averaging them out, there is much distortion. For example, the relatively small but conspicuous numbers of Wall Street types with 1-50 million incomes get lost in the averages. (average always eliminate bi-modal and tri-modal distributions). Still, these numbers probably hold in most of the country.
 Sonia Szajnberg is the daughter of our (recently truant) Aliyah Diary author. I remember when she was born. She looks like her mother.
She's a jazz singer now in NYC. Try I Remember April. Absolutely lovely.
Sunday, February 4. 2007
Here are some dynamite short stories. Commentary's Contentions.
 Why is this day different from all other days? I'll go for the Colts +4, but I'd be just as happy to see Chicago win.
As Seinfeld said: "You are rooting for laundry." Watching TV is not sport...well, I guess getting to the bean dip after 14 Coors Lights is a bit of a sport. Anyway, for real sport, try Tucks - Tuckerman Ravine on Mt. Washington. No lifts. You hike up the trail, and ski down the natural snow (or ice). Image: Tuckerman Ravine skiiers in 1937. Same as today. Not for yuppies. For other old-timey skiing (but with lifts) we recommend Mad River Glen ("Ski it if you can"), and the Dartmouth Skiway. Yes, we love Stowe, - the home town of our webmeister Chris - but it's not really fully old-timey anymore.
Gian Carlo Menotti has died, at 95. (h/t, Villainous)
 From stem-cell harvesting, to abortion on demand, to triage (as in the UK: "too expensive to bother treating"), to physician-assisted suicide for the terminally-ill, we see the steady march of a soul-less scientific rationalism.
I believe it is fear of that march which energizes the "crazy fundamentalists" who are not comfortable with treating human life as a disposable object. Now we see the practical Swiss planning to add mental illness to the list of diseases which will have physician-assisted suicide available. "Suicidally depressed? Hey - we can help!" Who's next on their list? Diabetics? Drug addicts? The unemployed? Sometimes a slippery slope is a slippery slope. How soon until Denmark and Holland have suicide teams roaming the hospitals (now often called "Death Services"), urging ill people to unburden society of their expensive and inconvenient problems? I can even see the ads: "Do it for the greater good", with some sort of happy, serene image of a smiling middle-aged lady floating on a fluffy cloud. Harp music, of course.
Thursday, February 1. 2007
 A Bristol, Rhode Island lawyer built Janet in 1903.
This 50' yawl was designed by Fred Lawley and built by George Lawley and Sons. She won the NYC Mayor's Cup in 2000. Yes, she is for sale. We post the photo to please Chris, who has worked overtime for Maggie's Farm this past week, and who finally subdued - or outlasted - the Botnet beast. Chris loves sailboats and hates stinkpots - even old wooden ones.
Wednesday, January 31. 2007
 This is a 26' triple cockpit runabout with a 425 hp Chevy V8. Mahogany, of course.
Pefect for Lake Champlain or Lake Winnepesaukee, if you don't mind being noticed. Or Long Island Sound, in nice weather. You can buy it here.
Edwards' sleazily-earned wealth, and his 28,000 square-foot house for which he clear-cut many acres of woodland, convinced me that there truly are two Americas: He is in one, and I am in the other. But this house takes the cake. Wow.
Tuesday, January 30. 2007
Monday, January 29. 2007
 Roger won the Aussie Open. He is on a roll.
He is 25, and he likes Heineken. Visions of Sampras.
Sunday, January 28. 2007
This minigun demo video will make anyone to want to sign up. (h/t, Alpha Patriot)
|
