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.
“Reunite what country?” Recall, Indo-China was not one country, or even three countries, under the French. It was administered as six regions (Laos, Cambodia, Tonkin, Annam, Cochin China and the Crown Dominion Lands). Vietnam was not one country before the French. In the previous millennium it was united for perhaps 30 years. Most of this unification refers to unifying the area north of the Red River with that of the area south of the Red River—all of that territory being within what became known as North Vietnam. It does not refer to the area from the border with China in the north to the tip of the Ca Mau peninsula in the south or west to the mountain border areas with Cambodia and Laos. That had never been one country. There was nothing to reunify. This is not analogous to the American Civil War. This was not a nation that was split by colonialism, by war or by agreement.
The Nurburgring race track can be treacherous. They have some days when, for a fee and an insurance waiver, it's open to the public to test drive their own cars. Also, you have to pay for any repair to the walls.
A good thing about it is, if anybody crashes, the followers stop to check up on them.
I did think about Johnny Reb as some poor farmer's son valiantly taking up arms to fight a northern invasion of his homeland. Not romanticizing it entirely, just a bit, but I hate, hate, hate that avoidable war.
My theory is that the purpose of higher ed is to prepare people for those Great Courses. These can enrich your life forever. Buy them when they are on sale, and trade them with friends and neighbors. That's what people do.
It seems to me that the social value of different personality traits, behaviors, and accomplishments varies widely across cultures and subcultures, and certainly across history.
I'm not sure what "worthy" means, though. Christian praise songs say "Only You are worthy." All I can think of about "worthy" is worthy to marry one of my splendid kids. That is a high bar in many areas, I'm afraid.
A "bum" was/is a term for an idle adult male. A shameful condition. These three bums are from the South Ferry (NYC) Flophouse, 1941. I wonder how they ended up. Maybe in the Army. Guy on the right should have gone to Hollywood.
Lots of Americans try to stay fit to extend the energetic, functional, productive and profitable part of their life span for as long as they can. It takes work but, as I say, only 5 1/2-6 hours of unpleasant work/week before or after work, and rational nutritional habits so you aren't over- or under- weight.
Mrs. BD and I tried a new fitness class early Sat. morning. We might be naturally lazy, but will not put up with that deplorable character flaw. Like my sister preaches about life, "Ignore how you feel. Always Go Do It."
More below the fold, with two calisthenics I can barely do -
Received this piece today on 10 tips to appear smarter. The key word is "appear" because it's not about actually being smarter. Just to get people to think you're smarter.
In other words, don't actually get to know someone, rely on superficial items to determine intelligence. It's what we do with politicians, so it must work because they are all so brilliant.
Most of it is common sense, anyway. Some is just plain silly. Don't have that extra drink of alcohol? OK, no problem. Wear nerd glasses? Thanks, I'll take a pass.
~Written by Bulldog T. Writer (the "T" stands for "The")
For getting outdoors in the highlands and the islands, we recommend Wilderness Scotland.Scottish history is not very interesting (Norwegian invaders, battles with Romans, clan squabbles, battles with Brits) until the Scottish Enlightenment; the land itself isn't very interesting (lots of barren hills and high hills with sheep) unless you love golf, and their food is unappetizing - but it's worth going once. I've been there twice.
The grouse and Red Deer hunting can be good. Now, the Scots themselves are quite amusing, cranky people and worth meeting and talking to. This only occurs in pubs or while smoking in front of pubs. If America runs on Dunkin, Scotland runs on whisky and tobacco.
The Highlands are rugged, but not too wild really because the Clearance Laws entailed cutting down all the trees (Scotch Pine, of which there are probably more in the US than in Scotland now). One good result of the clearances was the emigration of Scots to the US and to Oz.
Bob Dylan recently bought a castle and estate in the Highlands. Interesting song, Highlands. Goes between real life in Boston and dreams of the Highlands. Lyrics here. In our family, we often say "You look like you want a hard-boiled egg."
Sure, it's fun listening to a half-century old Dylan tune. Sure, it's a kick to hear about how a bunch of snowflakes were scared by a banana peel. Sure, it's interesting reading about how a 1926 tractor was rebuilt.
But let's talk about an important issue, shall we?
Booze.
For those of you who like your booze mixed with a soda, allow me to introduce a truly wonderful product to you called Everclear. Because here's the fun part: It doesn't have any taste.
Almost be definition, alone, all liquors (yes, even vodka) have a taste. The question then becomes, how does it affect the taste of your favorite soda? Usually in the negative would be my guess.
In my case, I'm a confirmed gingeraleaholic. I've been buying Canada Dry Ginger Ale since it was located in the wine aisle of the grocery store, right next to the Tom Collins mix, simply because it was originally designated a mixer, not a soda pop. It wasn't until years later when the Dr. Pepper people bought Canada Dry and turned it into an everyday soda that it came into its own.
Since I don't like drinking straight booze, I started experimenting, mixing different liquors with my Ginger Ale. I tried a number of different whiskies, scotch, bourbon, brandy, vodka, a number of rums, and they all failed the taste test. Basically, nothing goes with Ginger Ale.
Then I raised my plaintive plight while sitting around the community table at one of the marinas I stayed at while living on my boat in the Florida Keys, and someone suggested Everclear.
Et voila!
Oh, and the reason it doesn't have any taste? It's pure grain alcohol. On top of that, it's 190 proof, so just a splash in your soda of choice does the trick, so one could argue that it's one of the most economical liquors out there.
As a small side note, in case your local liquor store doesn't carry it, there's a similar product called Golden Grain, made by the same company.
Thank goodness we finally got around to discussing an important issue!
If you read the news you might almost get the idea that storms and floods are an abnormal modern event. The news forgot about Noah. In fact, floods and storms are not only natural but beneficial in every way to nature's processes but injurious to human hubris and property.
For examples, when a river overflows its banks it delivers fresh silt and soil to the flood plain, rejuvenating it (eg the Nile, eg the Mississippi Delta). When a strong storm blows through a forest and knocks down miles of trees, it restarts the forest cycle providing fresh habitat for all sorts of species who live in forest openings. For the Indians, that was an excellent thing.
The disaster part is man-defined, not nature-defined. When people build on flood plains (eg Houston) or on sea-level marshes (New Orleans), big trouble is predictable. And when man covers those flood zones with asphalt and buildings, or alters rivers with canals and levees, it makes it all worse.
Of course governments and benevolent souls have to step in when these "natural disasters" threaten lives, but a good way to think about it would be, in future at least, market pricing for flood and storm insurance. Let the actuaries figure out the real risk and cost of what people do and put a price on that.
That may or may not be true, but we will all grow old, get sick, and die unless we encounter a fatal accident or get sick and die before we get old.
It's worth reading Cicero's essay On Growing Old before growing old. Appropriately enough, that edition is in large print. Meanwhile, I endorse efforts to remain physically and mentally as vigorous as possible for as long as possible. It makes life more productive and fulfilling but, with luck and if we want to, we might end up old.
With one exception, all of the movies I've reviewed over the past few months have been fairly recent releases. Today, we step back in time.
Here are five wonderful war flicks from the early days:
— Sink The Bismarck (1960)
— The Enemy Below (1957)
— Destination Tokyo (1943)
— Run Silent Run Deep (1958)
— Operation Petticoat (1959)
And there are certain features that distinguish these films from the modern war flick. There's no gorgeous starlet awaiting our hero when he returns home. There's no trick computer gimmicks or the latest, hot special effects. There's no frantic, hurried-up pace; in fact, some of the events actually take place in (gasp!) real-time. There's no thunderous music score when the bad guy is finally bested. And, just as interesting, there's no long list in the credits of stunt men. If there's any list at all.
A pal invited me to do some 5 AM salt water kayaking yesterday, the plan being to do some sunrise drone photography over the water and to get a couple of hours of exercise. He built a landing platform on the bow of one of his kayaks. Admit it - that's a cool thing to do.
Paddling out in the dark, startling the night herons - wonderful of course. The beauty of kayaking is no noise, no sails to mess with, no concern about the water depth, and you get good exercise. In the dark, it feels magical.
Unlike duck hunting (also an early start around here), it's not frigid and sleeting when you set out on the water.
Anyway, this darn drone (the Solo) has about 20-25 minutes of power and it is damn fast. We put it up to around 3000 feet and sent it off about 2500 feet (around 1/2 mile) across the water when it lost contact. However, since it tracks GPS satellites, it automatically returns to its launch area when it loses contact so you easily regain control when it comes back into range.
The thing has a gimbel and GoPro camera connected to your iPhone. Video or still shots. It only takes a minute to see why the military loves these toys. There are various regulations about how these toys can be used, many of them sensible. There's never a problem over water, if you keep the altitude below aircraft.
Sunrise, yesterday morning, around 200 feet above Long Island Sound:
I did not win yesterday's Powerball, darn it. I guess I can't have every material thing I can think of.
I don't need a new car, but I am constantly tempted by new car ideas. Fact is, there are other things I choose to spend my money on. Some are necessary expenses (eg dental), some are optional, recreational, and some are charitable. A simple explanation of Marginal Utility.
For southern New England, I prefer a place closer to the salt water that my soul requires but if you are somebody with spare cash, I guess you can have 2 places and migrate between shore and country. As a compromise, I do like Old Lyme and that area. Roger Tory Peterson lived in Old Lyme.
Redding has a few nasty mcmansions but it's still far enough from things to have a rural character while having high-functioning residents.
If this place in Redding had another ten or 20 acres, it would appeal more to me. Frontage on the large pond, a large greenhouse, and, interestingly, it used to be Edward Steichen's studio. It's for sale.
I'd let lots of that lawn turn to once/year mowed meadow. Mowed in early August, after the meadow birds and bunnies have bred.
As summer begins to reach an end here in the northern hemisphere, I found myself recently alone on a remote beach in Maine soaking up beneficial solar rays with no clothing and no sunscreen. I pulled a small kayak up on the little island's rocky beach, and exulted in Mr. Sun's reaching sweetly into every crack and pore of my imperfect and slightly-aging multi-gravida but decently-athletic body. Mr. Sun doesn't discriminate.
I reflected on the pure animal pleasures as only the human kind of animal can reflect. The delight of touch, like the delight of a warm breeze. A gently rocking boat. The heat of the sun on skin, a breeze through your naked pubes. A hug from a friend or kid. A dog licking your hand. Sexual delights, of course. Powerful. The taboo relief pleasures of peeing and pooing. A hot shower that you hate to leave. The thrill of a violent thunderstorm. The tingle of a spoonful of delicious champagne sorbet or fresh raspberry sorbet. The joy of smacking a tennis overhead onto the sneakers of an opponent on a sunny morning. A hot tomato off the vine. The smell of hot trees and flowers. The pleasure of giving in to gravity onto a cozy bed at the end of a day. The fun of walking into cool air conditioning from a sizzling street, and the fun of walking from a car onto a sizzling beach. A chilly glass or two of chardonnay on the lawn at 5 pm.
Mindless, happy-animal, universal pleasures. Controlled hedonisms with no vomitoria or alcohol- and cocaine-fueled orgies. Each season offers its own set of innocent delights, but summertime offers the most.
Carpe diem, because you and I might not be alive next year. Anything can happen. I believe in working hard and long, but not always being a drudge. What's for supper? Grab a beer and make yourselves a turkey sandwich, family. I ain't cooking.
Sure, it's fun listening to a half-century old Dylan tune. Sure, it's a kick to hear about how a bunch of snowflakes were scared by a banana peel. Sure, it's interesting reading about how a 1926 tractor was rebuilt.
A pal invited me to do some 5 AM salt water kayaking yesterday, the plan being to do some sunrise drone photography over the water and to get a couple of hours of exercise. He built a landing platform on the bow of one of his kayaks. Admit it - that's a cool thing to do.
As summer begins to reach an end here in the northern hemisphere, I found myself recently alone on a remote beach in Maine soaking up beneficial solar rays with no clothing and no sunscreen. I pulled a small kayak up on the little island's rocky beach, and exulted in Mr. Sun's reaching sweetly into every crack and pore of my imperfect and slightly-aging multi-gravida but decently-athletic body. Mr. Sun doesn't discriminate.