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.
It is a powerful and discouraging report. Those are not underperforming schools. Those are underperforming kids and underperforming parents in an underperforming subculture. "Underperforming" by bourgeois standards, anyway. Perhaps not by their standards. Free food is fine.
America contains many subcultures without bourgeois expectations or standards. It's a free country. As we always say at Maggie's, do whatever you want with your time and your life, but not on my nickel.
Sometimes I wonder whether requiring "education" does any good. School learning is not a passive procedure. It requires, at the least, both inner and external discipline and, at most, inner desire, curiosity, and motivation.
In the younger years, clearly a positive connection with authority - a "master," a teacher - helps. One wants to please them and not to disappoint their efforts on your behalf. Our schooling is probably more designed for gals than for guys, or also for highly-domesticated or high IQ guys.
Can those things be "inspired," i.e. put into the air so that they are taken in by breathing? I don't know. I can say that, for me, school discipline and parental discipline put me on the road to an independent restless desire for knowledge and thought, but I may have been born with that anyway.
My IQ is probably not dramatically high, but my interests in all things is quite high and I have a temperamental or cultural restlessness which leaves me without a lazy bone in my body. I don't know what "relax" means, and I do not want to find out. My lack of interest in relaxing has served me well and enriched my life. Not mainly financially, but in all ways. I do not even like to sit down. My Maggie's Farm hobby is an expression of that. Call it ADD if you want.
Even on "vacation" from my day job, I want to either work or learn or eat, but the eating fattens me and drinking makes me lazy, so I minimize them. It's not about virtue. It's the way I developed, and my parents are the same way. "Retirement," endless vacation, is my nightmare.
Well, as close to an angel as I have ever identified.
Like most angels, she just looked like an ordinary middle-aged person. Unremarkable, unmemorable. Angels are simply messengers, aren't they? They aren't gods, and they don't have wings. The wings in angel images are symbols.
Tuesday morning at 10:30 I was sitting in the Maggie's HQ between meetings and conferences, with all doors and windows open to the soft summer breeze and enjoying a nice Partagas - I'm the boss so I do what I want - when I hear a knock on the open outside door. "Hello."
"Come on in," I say. "Pardon my cigar smoke. What can I do for you?"
"Nothing," she said tentatively. "I've never done anything like this before, but I felt had to. Are you (my name)? "Yes, I am. Who are you?" She gave her name to me.
I was pleasant, she was too. She said she hoped I did not mind, but the Lord had asked her twice, in prayer, to pray for me by name and to remind me that God loved me. She had no idea who I was, but googled my name, located me, and walked in my open door on the chance I would be there.
I told her that, far from intruding on me, she was like an angelic apparition. She had driven 20 miles to deliver me a message. I told her that I had lost both of my parents in the past few months, was grieving in my various ways but was not feeling disconnected from God.
She gave me a light hug, said "The Lord wants you to know that he loves you", and walked back out to her car. A silver Camry.
I told Mrs. BD that I had had a visitation from an angel. No, I am not insane. As I thought about it over the past couple of days, I began to realize that grief had indeed distanced me from God - not out of anger or anything stupid like that, but just by preoccupation with my own feelings, self-involvement.
Be there or be square. Evening ice cream at Mac's on the town dock. One of the very few places on earth I know where standing in a line is sorta fun. Fleece or sweater required.
I recently stumbled on this story. It's very old, and it seems to be well known in Math and Engineering circles. I shared it with my team to give them some idea how to work together and be open to unusual and creative ideas.
Long ago, there was a wealthy man who had 3 sons. Among his most prized posessions were 17 camels. The man was renowned as being very shrewd. In his will, he determined that his oldest son should get 1/2 of his estate(whatever he owned at the time of death), while his second born son should inherit 1/3 of his estate. His youngest son, being the yougest should inherit 1/9 of his estate.
After the father died, the three brothers were quite happy to inherit that wealth. They loved and respected their father very much so they were quite eager to satisfy the will of their father exactly. However, they did not like the idea of killing some of the camels in order to honor the last will of their father:
1/2 of 17 camels makes 8 and 1/2 of a camel figured the oldest brother, 1/3 of 17 camels makes 5 and 2/3 of a camel calculated the second brother, 1/9 of 17 camels makes only 1 and 8/9 camels thought the youngest brother.
but it still reminded me of the song. In five months, both parents dead and final child moved out to NYC this week. That's a big life change for me and the Mrs., but we still have the dog. All 3 kids living and/or working in NYC now. It's a good thing for the youth to do: If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. They don't have to stay there forever.
What makes it even better is that they get together there sometimes, and sort of network socially. They all have lots of friends and associates from prep school, college, and work. Interesting, attractive, proper, and ambitious kids, and they all want to be in NY where the action is. Meet people, make friends, build a life. Fun, plus social capital. They all have nothing at all to complain about except income, and when you're young in Manhattan, you don't really care. When I lived there, I had no clue that I was a pauper. Life was fun and fascinating, I could afford a beer, and I even met the future Mrs. BD there. Man, that was a random meet but it clicked.
A new t-shirt easily found up in Yankeeland. I told my wife this is what I want for my birthday, so we got me one. It's all I want for my birthday. I'll wear it in Italy, with my straw Stetson, red shorts, and white sneakers, and nobody will dare bother me. Not even the Somali scum.
$12.95. She got off easy, except for the cost of the Italy trip.
Some time ago, I was working at a job that required 'diversity' in hiring practices. It was about 15 or so years, before this became a standard in most corporate hiring practices. I'm still trying to figure out what it means, particularly because I was always taught to hire the best person for the job. I'm not saying diversity is bad. In fact, I'm all for it. But there is no standard gauge for diversity and as a goal it's a moving target. Would 50% female and 20% black be sufficiently diverse? Do we need to have the same percentages of each group as exist in the US population? Or would some close approximation suffice? At what number of employees does diversity become an imperative? I'm not sure we can realistically set numbers for these kinds of things.
At my company, VP level and above employees actually had bonuses based on 'improving the diversity of their departments.' There was no specific guideline provided, the VPs were left to figure it out for themselves. Many got significantly reduced bonuses, which led to the suspicion that it was a corporate method of reducing payouts. I happen to think that was the case.
But the corporation took this all very seriously and each year we were given a 'diversity update,' during which we were showed charts and graphs of women and minorities as a percentage of the company's staff and the executive suite.
I didn't care much for it. I am not opposed to diversity, but as I said, I always hired the best person for the job. I never think in terms of women, Asian, Black, Indian, etc. Suddenly I was being told what the company required in this regard when I was doing my interviews. I will never forget the laugh of one VP, when I recommended a young man for a position, as he said "Unless he's a black woman, the interview will not be worth his time." Fair enough, but I sent him in for the interview anyway and he was not hired, despite having stellar credentials and strengths in all the key areas the company was seeking to improve.
Whatever you decide you want your relationship with sex to be about, there are opportunities out there. Whether you want to have sex or you don’t, you’re looking for love or a one-night stand, you’re gay or straight or somewhere in between, it’s all possible. And whatever happens remember to be safe, get consent, and watch out for your friends.
Well, OK. What seems odd to me is the college administration selling this. Is selling sexual experimentation part of their job?
Regarding consent, I'd suggest recording it on video on your iPhone, ladies. Make sure the fellow gives you sober consent for you to enjoy his body.
While helping my brother clean out my parents' garage, going through shelves of tools, boxes of drill bits, old hinges, misc loose nails and screws, washers, screw-drivers, hand-drills, boxes of what-nots, etc, along with more garden tools than you can imagine even existed, I came across this old cedar cigar box full of mixed nails.
I know where that box of nails came from. That came from my grandfather's garage. My Mom's Dad. He kept all categories of little things in cigar boxes. He smoked in his office in town of course, but outdoors too, even while scything hay or on horseback, but stuck with cigarettes indoors so as not to offend the womenfolk. Pall Malls. Still delicious cigarettes.
So what about L. Osterweis? Well, he made cigars in New Haven, CT, with "South American" (Cuban probably) filler and Connecticut wrappers. Cigar people know that Connecticut still grows the best wrapper tobacco in the world.
The Osterweis company sold off their assets in 1954. From this Yale snippet, it seems that the Osterweis family did pretty well in the tobacco biz for a couple of generations. Even sent a kid or two to Yale.
It's the time of year when my family's food interests turn to mollusks and crustaceans. It seems to be in their blood.
Oysters preferably on the half-shell, and cherrystones only on the half-shell. About that red seafood sauce with horseradish, for shrimp and clams and oysters etc - it is vulgar, overpowering stuff, but we love it anyway. It is the American wasabi.
Crabs: up north, we prefer them in their moulting soft-shell form, lightly sauteed in olive oil, butter, parsley, a touch of garlic, and white wine: three per person - it's the frugal way to eat the magnificent east coast Blue Crab because you eat the whole darn thing, shell, feathers and all - a perfect combination of crunch and succulence. I know how you pick at them on the Chesapeake - and that is damn good, but too much work.
Lobsters: We eat them as a gala treat but not too often as it is easy to grow tired of them. Always buy the big ones - one 6 lb. lobster has double the meat of six one-lb. lobsters (which are mostly shell). If they have the big ones, get the biggest and let them steam 'em for you. The story that the big ones are tougher than the babies is pure myth and an evil lie - the only tough lobster is a live one without the rubber bands. Plus the big guys are as dramatic on the table as a Thanksgiving turkey or a crown roast of lamb. Oh, did I mention that you never boil a lobster - you steam them. Boiling them washes half of their favor out of them. Toss the shells in the freezer, afterwards, and use them in your next fish stock.
Clam chowder - you have to have your own family recipe, but red clam chowder is disgusting.
Steamers? The best. Just use a few cups of water, and keep the clams above the water. Don't overcook 'em, or they will get too chewy. And do not dip them in butter - it overpowers their salt-marshy goodness. Best part? That broth. When you drink that hot broth out of a heavy mug you feel like you are reuniting with Mother Ocean - and you are. Left-over broth? To the freezer, for fish stock, along with steamer clam shells, fish heads and bones, lobster shells, etc. Wow.
And a simple oyster stew with heavy cream and paprika is nirvana - you must use large oysters, and never overcook them - just until they warm up and the edges begin to curl. The Oyster Bar (since 1913) makes the best oyster stew in the world in their custom-made, 100 year-old oyster stew steaming machines. Worth a trip to NYC and Grand Central Station just to sample their world-wide oysters - and that simple, heavenly stew. Poor-Boys and fried oysters? They aren't a bad thing at all, but only with those southern, less subtle oysters which come shelled in a container. The kind we use for oyster stuffing for the Thanksgiving turkey.
And what is the finest oyster in the world? That's right, the ethereal Wellfleet Oyster, bathed in the fresh water from the Herring River. But don't try to cook him - it's a crime to do so, or should be. But we have done it - shame on us. Oysters Rockefeller from Wellfleet oysters.
Wines for these splendid delicacies from the sea? Champaigne is my first choice, and a Viognier is my second choice. Third choice - a French Chablis. Chardonnay with shellfish? No, no, no: try it and find out - they do not mix. Red wine with seafood? Certainly, if you feel like it. Who cares? Red surely is good with fish. I, for one, will not eat salt-water fish with white wine, but shellfish - for certain. Champagne with steamers? Very cool; very refined. Many prefer beer, though. (Steamers are the East Coast Buffalo Chicken Wings - only better.)
Image: a favorite Cape Cod salt marsh in Wellfleet, MA, full of steamer clams. You can fill a wire basket in 20 minutes, and come home hcovered with the black gooey happy marsh mud, looking something like this:
One of the most refreshing summer drinks ever invented.
Take a highball glass or large water glass filled with ice cubes, then fill halfway with lemonade, then sweetened iced tea to fill so it looks a bit layered. Slice of lemon. Straw. That's it.
Add some gin or vodka and it's a Dirty Arnold Palmer, but it really isn't necessary.
I'll open with a statement which is derived from the post I recently made regarding Libertarian thought. I believe if athletes want to use drugs or steroids, the choice is theirs to decide if using them will help them improve.
I know this is a controversial position, but if someone wants to use a product which may well cause cancer, shrink genitalia, or otherwise harm them, why should we stop them?
However, I don't support breaking rules. Rules in sports help focus players on developing talent rather than using technology to short-circuit the system. Golf is well known for its use of guidelines to introduce new products, and recently made a rule change limiting putters. I have used products in golf that can help me reduce my slice, and hit balls which fly further than those allowed on the tour. But the USGA limits what technology can be used by professionals because technology can trump talent.
I don't know how to play the violin, so the technology which makes a Stradivarius a great violin won't make me a better violinist. But if Stradivarius provided a tool which moved my fingers to their proper positions and moved my bow across the strings in proper fashion, I could suddenly compete with Itzhak Perlman and barely take a class!
While in process of cleaning out my parents' house, we discovered where Dad had stashed the shotguns. This nice surprise, among other well-used field guns, had been one of my Grandpa's.
It's not as if I needed more shotguns, but this is a 16 ga., which is a good thing.
You know what this is. Remington built this one. It's a fairly heavy SOB. I don't think I have used it since I was 15.
The bore is clean as a whistle. I will clean 'er up and use it again for both sentimental and practical reasons.
There are some teams which, for one reason or another can't get out of the way of themselves. I happen to root for these teams, and they come from Philadelphia.
Before I get an email from Doc complaining "oh geez, another sports post," I'll allay his fears and assure him this is about racism.
The Philadelphia Eagles, in the midst of rebuilding a franchise that had been successful for the past decade, lost one of their key players. A Wide Receiver, Jeremy Maclin, blew out his ACL and was lost for the season.
What do you do? Turn to the next guy, of course, who showed flashes of talent, but hadn't broken out yet. Riley Cooper hadn't been nearly as successful, but could potentially fill this huge gap.
Based on the video, it's hard to tell why he used it. However, he has said that a black security guard didn't allow him to go backstage, and that was the word he chose while reacting.
There are no good reasons to use it. But it is used somewhat regularly by rappers and athletes (I've heard it used in the gym locker room by young black men), and even once by a commentator. It seems to be a term of endearment, at times, though I'm too far removed to give it context.
Certainly, there seems to be a fine line between using the word itself, and adding an "A" to the end of it.
Some comedians have taken this view to task (video is terrible and audio hard to hear, but it's part of a sketch that aired on Comedy Central's "Tosh.0").
At least some of his teammates have stepped up, and Michael Vick even rejected his brother's words. Apparently, he knows a little bit about forgiveness.
This is not a word which should ever be used in any form, with an "A" or not. If people want issues like this to go away, the word has to be avoided by all, including those who use it in friendly or familiar manner. In the meantime, mistakes are going to happen. Overcoming ignorance takes time, effort, and a willingness to forgive and provide support. After all, from my perspective, freedom of speech means you have the freedom to be offended from time to time. Of course, it's better to avoid offending people whenever possible.
After all, sometimes ignorance causes us to take action that is misguided and needs to be remedied.
In 1999, a white D.C. official was forced to resign for using a word that sounded like a racial slur. David Howard used the word "niggardly" during a meeting, which a black staffer mistook for an epithet. Webster's Tenth Edition Dictionary defines "niggardly" as "grudgingly mean about spending or granting."
Lots of folks think bluefish are barely edible, but they are fit for a king when cooked the day they are caught, full of rich juicy fishy goodness. Mix in a bowl: mayonnaise, lots of chopped fresh ginger, some soy sauce, some salt and pepper, and chopped scallions. Coat both sides of the bluefish filets, then throw on the grill.
The secret to cooking many fish on the grill is to put a layer of aluminum foil on top of the grill, then cut a bunch of slits in the foil with a knife - it allows you to turn it without crumbling. Don't overcook - just 'til it flakes. Sprinkle with more chopped scallions when done on the flesh side, and serve with potato salad and green salad, crusty bread, martinis and champagne, and go to sleep happy, fulfilled, and thankful for God's bounty.
I've been using this recipe ever since I found it in John Hersey's 1987 bestseller "Blues" - a very fine and delightful book about fishing on the Islands - and about Life, of course. They might have it in that good bookstore on the main drag in Nantucket, but I'd be surprised. Anyway, they should.
The Bluefish is the favorite fast-food snack of the giant 500-1500 lb. Bluefin Tuna - a fish which I find inedibly dry and dull except as sushi. However, if you can find "toro" - the fatty belly meat of the Bluefin, which only can be found where Bluefin are regularly caught in Montauk, Cape Cod, and the Islands, season it with salt and pepper and throw that on the grill and it beats the best Kansas steak by a mile.
Ask your fish store up there to save you some. Be careful and use low coals, because it will flame up and burn far more than a steak. The Japanese pay through the nose for it, which is why we can't find toro at our local fishmongers. They ice it and put it on a plane to Japan, and probably eat it raw, which is a shame and a waste because good Yankee smoke and flame reveal its deeper character. Indeed, as with people.
A tip from a reader - you can do swordfish belly meat too - never tried it but it makes good sense.
Mishaum Point is a tiny gated community (almost entirely a summer community) in the village of Dartmouth, MA, with its own little neighborhood yacht club. The point is a narrow peninsula sticking out into Buzzard's Bay. Most of the houses have property running down to the bay.
It's a pleasant day sail out to Cuttyhunk and the Elizabeth Islands for a picnic or an overnighter at anchor.
Most of the houses there were built in the '40s, it seems, but some more since then.
I liked the one in the picture. It's for sale. Asking $1.3 million, which seems like a very good deal to me. I could happily live there year-round - but there is no work nearby.
When I was first asked to write for Maggie's, I promised Doc Mercury I would outline my thoughts on Libertarianism and why I switched from the Republican Party. He was curious why I thought it was a preferred political stance.In light of the current Rand Paul/Chris Christie 'debate', and my own procrastination, now is as good a time as any to post my opinion.
We choose political views based on our perception of human nature.If you believe humans act primarily in their own self-interest, Libertarianism might be for you.You shouldn’t consider it if you feel you can tell others what to do, or if you think the state knows better and should tell them how to live.For me, it was a question of consistency and honesty with myself.All political views have limited degrees of consistency, and we often rationalize specific situations which seem to compromise our essential principles.This even happens with Libertarians, though I believe it occurs to a lesser degree than most political parties.
Despite Sweden having backed off a bit from their socialist and statist excesses, its traditions of authoritarianism and paternalism persist.
The government controls higher ed in Sweden, and they do not expect much of their students: Six Years on Taxpayers’ Money - A graduate student from Sweden compares U.S. and Swedish higher education.
Every once in a while I get a hankering for a good rare steak. My preference is for Ribeyes (sauteed rare in butter, at max heat, with red peppers) and T-bones on charcoal or wood - or on both.
The best T-bone I think I have ever had was in the steakhouse on the ship last month. Grilled perfectly, of course: burnt on the outside but still trying to walk away on the inside. The chef told us it was a Sterling Silver steak.
I can recommend their meat to you (and I have eaten in plenty of steaks over the years in the great NYC steakhouses).
Saddest thing is that I couldn't eat the whole thing. It was a thick steak, full of tasty fat. I have deliberately shrunk my stomach by eating small to try to avoid the middle-aged fat thing.
"Don't Buy The Hype, College Education Is Not An Investment"
The article is referring to an expensive Liberal Arts education. However, most American higher ed does not involve the elite and expensive private colleges. Much higher ed is career-oriented at community colleges, for just one example.
Many colleges, even prestigious universities like Cornell, have a multitude of career-oriented colleges. Even Agriculture and Hospitality colleges. You can go to college to learn how to maintain golf courses. Such grads get instant jobs with big future potential.
I said I'd grab a few more pics of my late parents' home before we hurriedly plan to empty it out this week. Here's their living room. I think it is very pleasant, airy and and simple. Cathedral ceiling. A serene feeling. My Dad designed the whole house, and he was not an architect.
Large, wall-length fireplace on the left, with a raised hearth doubling as a bench, and with a 4'X4' antique oil portrait of a prize cow hanging over it.
No TV of course, but a radio for WQXR and a CD player on a bookshelf. Plus a piano in case you really love music enough to try to make some.
Can walk from there to our country 1763 Congregational Church. A nice 20-minute walk in any season, any weather.
Rehab can keep you away from whatever you abuse or are addicted to for a few weeks or even months, and introduce you to various programs, but rehab cannot help build or maintain a life of sobriety and sane behavior.
Neither rehab, nor AA, nor any other program "works." The person has to "work the program," and work it as if their life depended on it. Often, it does.
The questions of whether a program or plan "works" premises a medical patient model, a passive model, as if addiction and abuse were like pneumonia, curable by the best antibiotic. They are not. You do not "go through rehab" any more than you "go through AA."
It can take a lifetime of effort to climb out of the abyss of substance abuse, and a lot of it does not feel very good at all. I have seen plenty of people make the deliberate and conscious choice to live lives of substance abuse. It's a free country. I just resent it when they do it on my nickel.
I have a lot to catch up with after over a week in Wyoming, riding the ranges and the foothills with She Who Must Be Obeyed. Got lost a few times. High prairie. I always carry a compass in the great outdoors. A compass, the sun in the sky, and a pocket knife. A pocket GPS is cheating. Next time, I'll carry one anyway rather than following a fence line to nowhere.
After a few days, I can begin to adjust a bit to Western-style riding. Still, I do find it strange. Loping, galloping - different gaits from our refined Eastern style but at least the saddle has a handle! We saw Pronghorns, some Mulies, a few Golden Eagles and a Prairie Falcon. And lots of cattle, steak on the hoof.
Friends sometimes ask me why I never take photos. I never, ever, take pictures, even at Christmas. My eyes and brain are my camera; my hippocampus is my photo folder. Taking pictures can become a goal in itself, I found long ago, and interferes with fully "being there." So, rightly or wrongly, I quit it.
But on to today's link. I started college as an English Lit major. I liked talking about books. I liked writing essays. After a year or two, I began wondering why I was making my Dad spend money so I could do what I would do anyway in my spare time, so I switched to Chemistry. I love chemistry, but was not smart enough to make a career in it.
Which, of course, led to an email exchange in which we fit Animal House quotes to the event. If you're a fan of Animal House, or baseball, try it. As my brother says, it's like shooting fish in a barrel.
"Rodriguez, we've given this a lot of thought, your Delta Tau Chi name is "Juicer""
Found in the back of Dad's garage during clean-up and clean-out. It's a fairly old machine but in good shape. With his mild Parkinson's, I doubt he had used this saw for at least five years. Still, it tried to start up and then sputtered out.
Brought it in to my excellent local power tool guy. There was water in the tank. He blamed that on the ethanol in the gas. Had to clean and flush. Needed a tune-up and a new blade. Cleaned it up inside and out so it looks like new, too. I do know that, for power tools, it is best to drain the gas tank if they will not be needed for a few months. I just run 'em until they empty the tank. Only occasionally do I have a job that needs a full tank, so I rarely fill it up.
This lightweight Huskie will be a good alternative to my heavy Stihl Farm Boss, for smaller jobs.
It's the time of year when my family's food interests turn to mollusks and crustaceans. It seems to be in their blood. 
One of the most refreshing summer drinks ever invented.
While in process of cleaning out my parents' house, we discovered where Dad had stashed the shotguns. This nice surprise, among other well-used field guns, had been one of my Grandpa's. 
Re-posted - 
Mishaum Point is a tiny gated community (almost entirely a summer community) in the village of Dartmouth, MA, with its own little neighborhood yacht club. The point is a narrow peninsula sticking out into 
