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.
What qualities do people look for in elected (or unelected) leaders? The question applies to all areas of life, not just politics.
What qualities stimulate people to "follow," or choose, a leader? Among others, physical presence, ability to speak, self-confidence, and reliable decision-making play important parts, but some of it is difficult to express. This post stimulates the discussion: What is the "Presidential Presence"?
One component of it, perhaps not a large one, is a person's aptitude for being a target of positive transferences. That, plus the power, is what transforms an employee of the citizens (ie a politician) into something that seems special, probably too special. After Washington, my favorite President was Coolidge.
When it comes to politics in the modern era, one part of it is simply celebrity. "Charisma." TV, video, and film create celebrity, as in "famous for being famous." What qualities support that? Why does anybody listen to, or pay attention to, celebs?
Craig's List has it all. I am told you can search "Diesel," "Dog Food," or "Pain Relief," and if you sort through the listings you can find whatever you want. Heroin, Meth, coke, crack, Ecstasy, pot, Oxycontin, etc.
I do not want this stuff, but lots of people do. Yes, they deliver to your door or workplace in manila envelopes, but they do not take credit cards.
Thus the successful government war on drugs, ongoing since the Nixon administration. Prohibition never works. This is an ordinary Black Market similar to the Black Market for booze during Prohibition (when Joe Kennedy got rich with his Boston mobster buddies).
I am opposed to drug prohibition, and I am opposed to substance abuse as a terrible life plan.
Re-posted - Photo is a simple cheese board for dessert for about 6 dinner guests
Good cheeses must be treated with respect because plenty of effort, time, and pride goes into making them for you, and the tasty ones are mostly expensive. People always put out cheese and crackers at holidays. Here are The Barrister Family Rules and Tips about serving cheese:
1. The only thing Whole Foods (or whatever it's called now) is good for is the cheese department. That is quite good, and often the Cheese Man is somewhat knowledgeable and will give you a taste.
2. Best grocery cheese dept? Definitely Fairway. Best source of that Irish hard cheese - Dubliner - and of un-aged goat cheese? Costco. We love goat cheese. In Manhattan, Grace's Market has good, unusual, unpasteurized cheeses, and it's a fun shop for foodies. Also, the Grand Central Market in Grand Central Station has tons of tasty stuff including fancy cheeses.
3. Cheese as an appetizer or an hors d'oeuvre? Never. It's not done, not proper except as part of an Italian antipasto and even then only a couple of thin tasting slices. It wrecks the appetite and is too taste-powerful to precede a pleasant dinner.
4. Cheese should always be served at room temp, never cold. If a soft cheese gets a bit melty, so much the better because that's what it is meant to do.
5. Assorted cheeses on a buffet table? Of course. A Cheese Board as an after-dessert savory or, as I prefer, instead of dessert? Definitely.
But served how? Our theories on the topic are below the fold -
Brianna Flaherty, who graduated in May and lives in New York City before she’ll have “to give up and move home,” is unemployed. She spends hours on Craigslist and writing cover letters. When she interviewed at a bakery recently, there were 250 others competing with her to frost cupcakes at 5:00am.
“I no longer buy into the idea that having a degree will give you your dream job,” she told me. She’s exasperated. “I see on Craigslist that my Creative Writing degree, which cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, qualifies me to be a receptionist.”
When asked why that would be disappointing, she echoed Sterling: “My parents raised me to do something I was passionate about.”
The time from the start of Advent to Christmas is like a short spiritual pregnancy.
What's the miracle of Christmas? That Christ can be born in all of us, anywhere, any time, at any season, to make us fully human and complete by linking the divine spark in our pagan, fallen souls to the holy.
Is it a shame, or a blessing, that we have to really need Him before we will put our precious selves aside, just a bit, to let Him into our lives?
While my Puritan ancestors would never celebrate the "Roman" (eg "Anti-Christ") feast of Christmas, I find it to be an emotional reminder of that miracle which exists in the present, not the past. And the totally pagan, Germanic tree is a perfect metaphor for transformation - ordinary baby firs, like all of us (miracle enough right there), with the potential to be transformed by light and truth and beauty and brotherly love.
At Maggie's Farm HQ, this transformation, from ordinary fir tree to Holy Spirit-illuminated tree, is what we pray for. (Hold the tinsel, please.) It's not decor, it's a symbol of our potential.
One of the many things missed by many so-called "cosmopolitan sophisticates" (actually self-absorbed reality avoiders) is that the deepest pleasures in life are in giving, not taking, and creating the appreciation for giving in our children.
We had a full day scheduled for today, as do most families on weekends. Each year for the past eight or so the boys and I have brought new toys to the breakfast at Camp Pendleton (about a half-hour north of us) paid for by Congressman Issa, whose foundation pays for many such charitable works throughout North County San Diego. We usually go at about 11AM but would need to go at 7:30AM in order to make it to Gavin's basketball game at 11AM. I asked Gavin if he wanted to skip the toy collection breakfast today, so he wouldn't be tired for the game due to the earlier wakeup. Gavin immediately replied, "But, then poor kids will not have as many toys for the Holidays." Out of the mouth of babes (actually a just a month short of 9-years old) comes the core wisdom we take pleasure is seeing in our children.
So, arriving early, Congressman Issa marveled at how both boys have grown over the years he has known them.
Then we joined another family with whom we've sat for the past 5-years, whose son Eugene also had a basketball game today, so they arrived early, and for the same reason -- to make sure that kids less fortunate had new toys for Christmas.
Off to basketball, Gavin arrived just as the game began, and his increasing skills were soon evident. (We practice together every chance we get, especially right now on strengthening his dribbling with his non-dominant hand.) (below) -
Thanks for a good, fatiguing day in the field and plenty of good talk about serious matters. Glad I had the chance to test out my Grandpa's 16 ga. A-5. It seems to shoot straight. Heavy, though, after a few hours. This is how we roll in Yankeeland:
By the way, I know our readers always wondered what Woodcock "chalk" looks like. It's like a white splash on the fallen leaves. You have seen it in the woods, if observant. I took a photo:
I recently had a chat with my 4-Star Paris-trained chef friend about special creams. I learned a few things.
For starters, she said that Creme Fraiche and Sour Cream are culinarily identical, but you pay more if the label says Creme Fraiche which is only slightly lighter in weight. I already saved you a few bucks, because now you can put ordinary sour cream on your mixed-berry dessert.
Clotted Cream, or Devonshire Cream, is what you put on your scones and crumpets and strumpets. Excellent flavor on strumpets. Here's what it is. She said you can get it at Whole Foods, but I won't go there.
Good old Whipped Cream requires no comment.
Somewhat related -
- When I was a kid, Mom used to make Junket for dessert. I thought it was good, but nobody makes Junket anymore. (She made Jello dessert too with a squirt of Reddi-Whip, and Coffee Jello was my favorite.) Maybe some chef could spruce up Junket and bring it back into fashion.
- English Custard (Sauce). A classic for Bread Pudding, Plum Pudding, and other Brit puddings and desserts. Simple and delicious. Pour it on.
One of the tastiest and most luxurious hors d'oeuvres is soft-boiled quail eggs with caviar. Eggs on eggs. It's really gotta be served with champagne. But how does the regular family afford enough Osetra caviar at $60/oz to be generous with it? They can't, because a minimal dose is about 1 oz. per person. We'll get to that in a minute.
Best way to eat fine caviar? Off those tiny caviar spoons with a shot of Russian vodka. Second best? On a blini. Third best? On a quail egg.
(By the way, if you have any left-over caviar, it's great on regular soft-boiled eggs or on top of an omelette the next day. It also freezes pretty well.)
Since I'm on the topic of caviar, a chef friend's favorite sandwich is a toasted bagel with creme fraiche (or the very heavy type of sour cream or, at worse, cream cheese) with a pile of caviar and a sweet onion.
The great caviars of the world are, of course, from the various varieties of Sturgeon. Today, sturgeon are farm-raised in some places (eg this French farm raised caviar). Yes, there are wild sturgeon in America (relatively endangered) and every once in a while somebody pulls a 16-footer out of the Hudson River.
Farm-raised American Sturgeon caviar ain't cheap. Let's take a look at the American non-Sturgeon caviars, those caviars for us plebs.
Cheapest is caviar from the roe of the Lake Whitefish. Whitefish Caviar is better than nothing, but it's basically low-rent supermarket caviar, around $10/oz.
Another cheap one is often marketed as American Pride. It's the roe of something they call a Golden Herring. I don't know what that fish is. 7 ounces for $50. Inexpensive enough to use in volume.
My third cheap one is often marketed simply as American Black Caviar. It's the roe of the Bowfin, a primitive cool-water fish of the US and Canada. Fishermen consider it to be an annoying trash fish:
Here's a stranger fish from which the roe is marketed: The American Paddlefish. It's a cousin of the sturgeon, lives in the Mississippi River drainages. Here's one plankton-feeding:
I've never had Paddlefish Caviar, but I'd like to try it. Wild American Paddlefish Caviar goes for around $30/oz. It's a shame that you can't squeeze the roe out of a fish and then let the fish go to make more.
It's not a bad deal to be poor in America. Government benefits are almost endless, not to mention private charity. Everybody will try to give you money and stuff. American "poor" don't have to work, have big TVs, cars, and air-conditioning, EBT cards, food stamps, and subsidized housing. Good for them.
If feeling poor is appealing, there is a sure-fire way to accomplish that. Be single, have kids, and don't work. Don't get any religious sustenance, and don't learn how to do anything useful. Add a little substance abuse or jail tattoos to that or some body piercings, for maximum effect, and make sure you have no positive social network. In other words, don't build your life in a rational, civilized manner.
Well, there is another way. What's the "poorest" village in America? Kiryas Joel. They are all on welfare. Happy. I believe many of them work off the books, too.
I want free piano lessons and free painting lessons. Can I get that?
Related: The college-for-all model isn't working - After years of disfavor, vocational
education is being transformed for young people seeking jobs that
require more than high school but less than college.
The Maggie's Farm staff tends to believe in apprenticeships for almost everything that is work-related.
"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive." -- C.S. Lewis
”One of the overriding points of Liberal Fascism is that all of the totalitarian ‘isms’ of the left commit the fallacy of the category error. They all want the state to be something it cannot be. They passionately believe the government can love you, that the state can be your God or your church or your tribe or your parent or your village or all of these things at once. Conservatives occasionally make this mistake, libertarians never do, liberals almost always do.” -- Jonah Goldberg
Leftists do dream of a utopia, a Garden of Eden where dreams come true and wants are met - according to their wants for us. They forget what messed up the Garden of Eden: humans. God felt lonely, but was disappointed by his creations. Real humans even rejected God's utopia because we have minds of our own.
Human nature continues to mess up utopian fantasies. Our Dr. Bliss has taught us countless times that utopian ideas are regressive, infantile fantasies, and that life is difficult and challenging. That's why we offer charity to the faint of heart and the terribly-damaged, so their families won't have to bear the burden alone and the government gets the credit (and the votes), thus taking over the role of America's magnificent and munificent tradition of private charity.
America is not designed for the faint-hearted, but the welfare state enables faint-heartedness and often, I see in my rambles in life, encourages it. Spends lots of taxpayer money, in fact, to encourage people to work the system. However, the vast majority of us are capable of, and desiring of, independence and accomplishment. We take pride in a "can do" attitude, and feel pity for those lacking in American vigor and uninterested in their opportunities which exceed those anywhere else on the planet except, maybe, Singapore.
Nobody can feel dignity without contributing to life, without being useful and productive. It's depressing and degrading not to contribute, even if you are getting free stuff. Why design an entire government-driven society around the few who cannot or will not negotiate life in an independent manner? Just give them money to survive, let them do what they will, and forget about them unless they break laws. It's not realistic to expect everybody to be a noble and honorable pillar of society.
Does "history" inevitably lead to serfdom to government? Are freebies and benevolent control and humble serfdom the future for America, under the dominion of our moral and intellectual superiors?
Liberals dream of one day seeing all Americans permanently locked in the smothering, cradle-to-grave death grip of the nanny state. Nothing excites a liberal more than the idea of controlling where you go to school, regulating your work and play, deciding what type of health care you're going to have and then deciding when you get to retire and how much money you have when you do. Even if you want to choose, you can't. Even if you want to break free, you're stuck. You're not allowed to make different choices because liberals have made it illegal.
Why do they want this "for me"? Why do they want to control things? I hate it, and it was not what I was raised for. I was not raised to be a recipient of "services" or insane regulations designed by people who have never done my work. We the people are not stupid, and just want to be left alone. Trust me, Lefties: We can figure out what is best for ourselves, our families, and our communities. We're adults, proud citizens. We just ask for freedom from the heavy hand of intrusive government like the rebels in 1775.
Medical risks associated with being overweight include breast cancer and several other cancers, cardiovascular disease, arthritis (esp. knee), diabetes (obviously) along with other insulin-resistance-related metabolic syndromes and carbohydrate-craving, non-alcoholic liver disease, pancreatitis, stroke, hypertension, gall bladder disease, sleep apnea, and many more fun problems.
I am highly intolerant of BS, jerks, lazy people, ignorant people, liars, and manipulators. Sometimes these days one might get the idea that "intolerance" is a deadly sin, but I think we're all free, given our manners and sense of propriety, to be intolerant of anything or of anybody we want.
The Intolerance Pimps have realized that nobody really cares much about what other people do as long as they leave them alone. That's real tolerance. However, like global warmist alarmism, lots of people have a stake in perpetuating victimhood alarmism. Most turn out to be fakes going back to even before Al Sharpton.
Remember all those church burnings during Clinton's election? It was made into a big deal to promote black turnout. Turned out to be nothing. Small churches burn down regularly, as was shown after the election.
Today's example: All Republicans are racist. The hate crime? Meliorism: implying that racism was dying in America. I guess you can't say that. It's racist to be a racism meliorist.
When I was much younger and lived in the East I went on many barefoot and small luxury sailings all over the Caribbean, primarily to the more diverse and less "Americanized" southern reaches. From San Diego, however, the air connections to the southern Caribbean waste a full day of misery. You can't beat the islands of the south, but it's not worth the arduous flight unless for more than several weeks stay.
One of the advantages of having young sons is that they have not seen the southern Caribbean and would not be disappointed by the more touristy Western Caribbean. They are curious and adventurous travelers -- and well behaved, pleasant company -- so, off we went with a direct connection from San Diego to Miami, a day of relaxation there, and then a Carnival ship to Cozumel, Belize, Honduras, and Grand Cayman. Thanksgiving, Chanukah and my birthday made for a very special trip of lasting memories.
I haven't been in Miami since I left Florida in 1979. A convenient public bus took us to South Beach from our hotel on a bay. Lincoln Road pedestrian mall has certainly improved with blocks chock full of tropical plantings and ethnic restaurants surrounded by spacioius outdoor seating areas under large umbrellas or canopies. The Santa Monica pedestrian mall is inspired by Lincoln Road but far misses the mark. We lucked in to the very best Cuban food ("YUCA"=Young Urban Cuban Americans) I've had since leaving Florida, and the boys gobbled theirs with many Hmmmmms of delectable delight. A bit further along the walk we came upon a giant Menorah and Dreidal for upcoming Chanukah. We didn't count but took the sign's word that it was made of over 25,000 seashells.
The next treat was visiting the historic Art Deco hotels along the South Beach. Before they became trendy, and extremely expensive, my grandmother would come down for the winters in the 1960s and 1970s. The insides are deluxe now but the exteriors are preserved. Lit up at night you feel like you stepped back to the 1930s and 1940s. The boys stood on the spot where I have a photo of me with my grandmother. She would be smiling with nachas.
The famous wide Miami Beach and its high rise hotels of varying ages, from the 1950s to now, are across the street from Grandma's hotel and stretch for miles.
(h/t American Digest) - Africa's Aid Mess - Renowned author Paul Theroux discusses
why the philanthropy of Bill Gates, Bill Clinton, Bono, and Jeffrey
Sachs largely fails. Here's what works.
A quote:
I was impressed by the self-sufficiency of ordinary people. Without much in the way of outside help, the people in the countries I knew managed to endure, usually through the simplest traditional means, and finally to prevail. Africa has the schools, the money and the resources to fix its own problems; it's appalling to think of donors telling them otherwise, of the whole continent terminally indebted and living on handouts.
It seems that the preening condescension of Western billionaires' "help" is not what Africans need. Like the Appalachian hillbillies in the 1960s, they don't know they need help but, like most humans, they'll take a freebie.
Does Africa need my help? Investment is one thing, but help?
I think even the sternest of moralists—such as I—could not help but think on hearing her story of Blake’s line, “some to misery are born.” Prison was the first time in her life she had experienced reasonably consistent and decent treatment; and sad to relate, her loss of freedom was a boon to her. She flourished (comparatively speaking) there.
When I returned home from having examined her, my wife told me that she had received a telephone call from her bank. The person from the bank had asked for her by name and then said, “First I have to ask you some security questions.”
“Since you phoned me,” said my wife, “are you sure it is not I who should be asking you some security questions?”
Here's one quote of the Inquisitor's monologue to the returned and imprisoned Jesus Christ:
So long as man remains free he strives for nothing so incessantly and so painfully as to find someone to worship. But man seeks to worship what is established beyond dispute, so that all men would agree at once to worship it. For these pitiful creatures are concerned not only to find what one or the other can worship, but to find community of worship is the chief misery of every man individually and of all humanity from the beginning of time. For the sake of common worship they've slain each other with the sword. They have set up gods and challenged one another, "Put away your gods and come and worship ours, or we will kill you and your gods!" And so it will be to the end of the world, even when gods disappear from the earth; they will fall down before idols just the same.
Thou didst know, Thou couldst not but have known, this fundamental secret of human nature, but Thou didst reject the one infallible banner which was offered Thee to make all men bow down to Thee alone -- the banner of earthly bread; and Thou hast rejected it for the sake of freedom and the bread of Heaven. Behold what Thou didst further. And all again in the name of freedom! I tell Thee that man is tormented by no greater anxiety than to find someone quickly to whom he can hand over that gift of freedom with which the ill-fated creature is born.
Readers are probably slowly recovering from yesterday's feast day in America, but this is very good if you have 5 minutes, by Williamson:The Problem of Selfishness - Political self-interest is no less selfish than economic self-interest.
Presidents, Popes, everything except pumpkin pie. One quote:
The notion that the pursuit of power is somehow less selfish than the pursuit of money found its way into Pope Francis’s Evangelii Gaudium, in which the pope rehearses some ancient Catholic criticisms of market liberalism that have excited anti-capitalists throughout the world, who are always eager for any scrap of economic encouragement from an institution and a man with views they otherwise detest utterly...
In the absence of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and a bunch of pipers, Mrs. BD will have to bang out Auld Lang Syne herself on ye olde pianny tomorrow afternoon for a sing-along as the extended BD family gives thanks, but, for the first time, with my parents gone. Lots of people sleeping over - hope we can find enough rooms and beds at the BD Manor.
Mrs. BD can still find her pianny brain when she wants to. There is nothing like a Steinway to inspire them fingers because the machine fills the house with glorious sound, missed notes and all. I like the missed notes.
Our Thanksgiving tradition is to always invite friends along with family, especially friends and acquaintances without jolly and festive plans, but not so much of that this year even though we love having people around the place. There remains a funereal atmosphere in the family. These lyrics are more appropriate for the situation than I might have imagined. If any one of us can get through it without breaking down, I'll be amazed.
It is true that Bobbie Burns stole the lyrics, but he said he had done so.
Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?
CHORUS: For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup! and surely I’ll buy mine! And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We two have run about the slopes, and picked the daisies fine ; But we’ve wandered many a weary foot, since auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dine; But seas between us broad have roared since auld lang syne.
CHORUS
And there’s a hand my trusty friend! And give me a hand o’ thine! And we’ll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne.
Last week, I agreed to do some volunteer work at a local grade school. We cleaned up and re-painted 2 basketball courts in Harlem. The work was managed by a public/private partnership of the NYC Parks Department. I was able to get some first hand knowledge on why we need volunteers so much.
The most interesting thing I noticed was how ill-prepared our Parks Department representative was. Leaves were all over the courts and needed to be removed. There were 3 men with small bags doing this work. Slowly. Clearly union work. I offered to grab some bags and start getting the leaves off, but was told no, these men would do it. After removing about one-eighth of all the leaves, they left. Gone, finished. Nothing left behind to finish the job of removing leaves. Our representative had all the tools we needed to paint - but we were going to have to paint with leaves in the way and blowing all over the courts. I saw, at the start, this was a clinic in how the government manages things.
Readers know that I am a Christian, probably some sort of re-born variety I guess. Jewish friends tease me by saying that I belong to a strange Jewish cult. While raised Roman Catholic, I somehow became a member of the well-known Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan. An acquaintance at work dragged me there.
As a Christian, I am always interested in our Jewish foundations, but I am not very well-informed. I felt this was good from Daniel Greenfield (Sultan Knish): Jewish Culture, Revelation and Continuity:
Faith is not grappling with difficult existential questions. It is best expressed in the dialogue between the Prophet Ezekiel and G-d. "And He said unto me: 'Son of man, can these bones live?' And I answered: 'O Lord GOD, Thou knowest." (Ezekiel 37:3)
And so faith answers its own question.
That is the essential humility that is the true character of the prophet. Liberal streams of Judaism claim to focus on prophetic value of social justice. But the calls of the prophets for justice did not come from them. They came from G-d. In their natural state they were humble men, like Moses, who did not strive to impose their will on others, but waited to hear what G-d would tell them to do.
That humility of action is faith. And without that humility, there is no room for faith or G-d.
As a native Cape Codder and cranberry fan, it's a delight to report that they may have a powerful anti-atheroscletotic effect. Maybe this news might have a beneficial effect on a specialized family farming that has been bedeviled by low prices.
The big producers are Wisconsin, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Washington, Oregon and Michigan.
The sentence in Science Daily I don't understand is the following: "The researchers said that the next step is to determine which compounds in cranberries contribute to the benefits and then figure out how to incorporate them into the diet in a form palatable to humans." How about in cranberry juice, cranberry muffins, cranberry pancakes, 25 kinds of cranberry sauce, cranberry cobbler, and dried cranberry "raisins,"....for starters? You can buy unsweetened, undiluted cranberry juice now in most supermarkets.
We keep bags of them in the freezer, and they seem to last a year.
Cranberry sauce: it's not just for Thanksgiving turkey. It's good for chicken and almost any kind of game meat. Never use the junk from the can, though. Even if you think you like it, you will find you like the home-made better.
More on this native North American bog plant here.
Re-posted - Photo is a simple cheese board for dessert for about 6 dinner guests
One of the tastiest and most luxurious hors d'oeuvres is soft-boiled quail eggs with caviar. Eggs on eggs. It's really gotta be served with champagne. But how does the regular family afford enough Osetra caviar at $60/oz to be generous with it? They can't, because a minimal dose is about 1 oz. per person. We'll get to that in a minute.
Oregon's Legislature is kicking around 
Hawkins begins his short post with these quotes:
From The Brothers Karamazov (1879). The chapter is one of the most famous passages in literature, and it's time we re-linked it. 
Readers are probably slowly recovering from yesterday's feast day in America, but this is very good if you have 5 minutes, by Williamson: 
