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.
Doesn't dying suck enough, unless you are in terrible shape?
Tomasky is in favor of death tax. He'd like the government to take most or all of your estate when you croak, and makes a moral case for it.
Leviathan will eat all he can, and it is never enough for him and never will be. There should be no death tax. Family, and free choice in saving and spending, trumps government. I can make moral cases in opposition to Tomasky. For starters:
- That money has already been taxed once. Why a double jeopardy?
- One reason people work and save is to provide for family and future. Isn't less dependency on government a good thing? In my view, more wealthy families are a good thing. The more, the better. They invest, and if they are not financially successful on their own, at least they do not become dependent on everybody else.
- Who is the government to tell me how much is "enough"?
- Despite Tomasky's dismissal of the loss of family farms and family businesses to pay taxes, I have seen it happen, and sadly. A damn shame.
- Very wealthy families (eg Kennedys, Rockefellers, Kerry-Heinzes, Clintons, etc) find ways around it. Middle class people with small businesses, farms, or small collections of real estate or gas stations, cannot.
Add your own arguments, for or against, in the comments.
The global cooling we are experiencing inspired me to consider some truly fine cool-weather all-white breakfast eats which are not easily found in Yankee-land. The good stuff that sticks to your arteries ribs and warms you from the inside.
Creamed chipped beef on toast is the fine old Yankee version of the southland's biscuits 'n gravy. Both have done wonders for warming the hearts and narrowing the arteries of generations of American boys. Add some potatoes and you have the perfect meal for a lumberjack or hunter.
While apple pie is an old-time Yankee breakfast staple, it has been replaced long ago by eggs, toast, and bacon, maybe a chunk of fruit, and preferably home fries with ketchup on them. Not Heinz 57, though - it's not my job to feed John Kerry.
Some people eat cereal for breakfast. Why? Because Dr. John Kellogg, a health-food charlatan in the 1800s, told them to. Zero nutrition. Breakfast cereal is a fraud and a scam, unless it's plain grits or cream of wheat or oatmeal. The crunchy granola stuff? Well, I thought the guy who discovered that you could sell people plain water was a genius, but the people who decided to sell guinea pig food to humans was his creative equal.
(At Maggie's Farm, we are also fond of fish for breakfast, like the Brits. Kippers. Or a lighty sauteed trout someone has caught early, sprinkled with parsley. Or left-over broiled salmon.)
The chipped beef was always a boarding school standard, and half loved it and half barfed to look at it. It does look like vomit, but it's great stuff. It's a gourmet's delight, but nobody makes it anymore.
When I did my time south of the Mason-Dixon, a local favorite was hot dog gravy on biscuits. Grits on the side, of course. Everything white. Not a refined breakfast, just gravy made with supermarket hot dogs instead of sausage. A truly revolting flavor unless you grew up in the hills and hollers, but it will fend off hunger for hours. I prefer my Sabretts on a bun at Yankee Stadium. But other sorts of southern gravy, made with ham or sausage, are just fine. I won't presume to offer a biscuit 'n gravy recipe, because every Southern Mom has her own. Well, here's a Virginia one from someone's Grandma.
Biscuits 'n gravy, and grits. Serious food for the soul.
Image: New Hampshire chipped beef on English muffins - with home fries. They don't do grits up north (except in Italian homes and restaurants, where they like to call grits "polenta") and it's a damn shame. Good stuff.
Now that we have considered difficulties in the idea of progress, it is time to enter the politics of progress. Progress reduces the scope of politics and thus minimizes the relevance of the common good. The common good tends to become the sum of individual benefits, in which the “common good” is that of individuals similarly benefited, and not sharing and cooperating in a common life. Government promises security—in comfort, of course, not bare survival—for individuals as such; it places this goal above promoting a certain democratic way of life. Americans learn to put their security, meaning each one’s own security, first—ahead of public-spirited thoughts and actions for the whole. Consider Social Security, America’s largest entitlement, which actually individualizes society, rendering security less “social,” by giving each retired worker independent means. Social Security is quite different from the idea of “national security,” which brings Americans together in a whole. The democracy of progressives leads toward the society that Tocqueville described as the soft despotism of “individualism,” in which individuals, out of a sense of their own impotence in the face of vast social change, excuse themselves from pleasures and sacrifices prompted by public-spiritedness.
In AARP Magazine (!), the not-retired Bob Dylan Does the American Standards His Way - In his first interview in nearly three years, the legendary singer-songwriter talks about his new disc, ‘Shadows in the Night,’ his love for Frank Sinatra and about life in his 70s
As I left for work this morning, I caught Jack Ma (founder of Alibaba) on the news, at Davos, commenting on the responsibility of having over a billion dollars in wealth. I tried to find a video of his quote, but have turned up nothing. Maybe one of our readers might find it.
I may have misinterpreted what Mr. Ma said, but his comment was something to the tune of "If you have a billion dollars, it's not just yours. It became yours because the people who gave it to you felt you would do better things with it than anyone else, like the government. This places a responsibility on the person with a billion dollars, and is why I will seek to do good with this money."
As I said, I may have not heard it precisely or interpreted it correctly. If I did, it is a view I agree with(although people didn't give him anything, they exchanged money for a product or service he provided which made everyone better off).
All told, I'd prefer to not have a billion dollars in wealth. Too much responsibility, too many headaches. People who amass fortunes like this, however, have made the world better and this is why I don't oppose or envy their wealth. As Ma intimated, they can do better with the money. This is one reason I enjoy watching shows like Shark Tank. Not only do I learn insights on how to manage a business, but I see wealth at work producing things people want or need.
People who believe the wealthy sit around pools drinking margaritas all day (I've had people say this to me) have no idea where wealth comes from or how it is made. Those people may exist, I'm certain they do. Their wealth, however, does not last as long as you'd think. Their money must be working at improving lives through exchange or production, somehow, for them to spend the rest of their lives poolside. Real wealth creators, however, are always doing good with their money, even if it's just managing their companies (which provide jobs, goods and services) or coming up with new ideas that people want or need.
I am reminded of two groups of people. One which earned money, and knew how to create it but not how to use it. Another which was given the money, and the headaches it caused.
By and large, I believe if you're smart enough to earn the money through productive or creative capacity, as Jack Ma did, you're likely to know what to do with it. If you lucked into it, you're unlikely to have a good idea of what to do without some professional help.
Then there is a third group I forgot to mention. Politicians. I believe they are more like lottery winners, though they believe they are producers. I see them as popularity contest winners who are handed a blank check and haven't a clue what to do.
No, I didn't watch the SOTU. I did read it. Watching it is just too...boring. Besides, there was a good movie on another channel. "National Lampoon's Vacation" is far superior to the pablum spoon-fed to the nation by the winner of a popularity contest.
So when I think about what the President had to say, and specifically who he was speaking to (because he did not speak to me or people like me), I think of another movie, one involving an entrepreneur who built a business and was seeking to keep it running by giving jobs to disadvantaged folk who were willing to work for him because he recognized the value they provided and sought to protect them from harm while giving them a living 'wage'. Progressives believe this man is the government, which is why we were exhorted to "move forward together" even as the President sought to polarize us further.
We know the truth. We know this man doesn't exist. We know the best thing the government can say to Progressives is this:
On the other hand, these are the Progressives Obama spoke to:
Look, everybody must come to terms with the fact that most people will not like us, or be interested in us, or want to help us. That's part of growing up. Despite that, there are plenty of people out there who want a friend. We have to understand that others, like us, are discriminating in their own ways. When friendships and relationships do click, it sure is fun and life-enriching, isn't it?
I once helped a very shy young fellow deal with his fear by commanding him to introduce himself to a pretty girl on a daily basis - including in NYC stores (eg Bloomingdale's), gourmet food markets, and supermarkets. He complied bravely with great faith in my advice, and in a very few instances somebody liked the cut of his jib and his (apparent) confidence and phoned him. Cured by Reality Therapy! He did not become thicker-skinned, just realistic.
I believe "New York isn't as great as it once was" (in case you were wondering, the sarcasm is thick).
A number of people, mostly born-and-bred New Yawkers, have recently been suggesting to me that New York is in decline. With Mayor Bill, I have a hard time refuting this. On the other hand, their 'evidence' is a host of articles and commentary about the closing of this deli or that dry cleaner, some other diner, or the changing cultural makeup of some community which they'd prefer never change.
"That deli was iconic, how horrible!" "Landlords forced them out by raising rents!" Oh the horror! To me, New York is cool because it doesn't stay the same.
Face it, who wants it to stay the same? Sure I love Carnegie Deli and Katz'. If they closed tomorrow, sad as I'd be, something else would come along. Jack Dempsey's was gone long before I arrived in 1985, should I regret it's passing (I'm sure many did)? Though I haven't been in McSorley's since our hike last fall, and only to use their restroom, I admit I'd fight tooth and nail to keep it open...though probably not. Better to have one last beer and let the past go, if I must.
Bond's is a great example of the idea that New York is improving rather than getting worse. I've eaten at Bond 45 a few times. The food is good, though I consider it comfort food. Still, for a business or friendly lunch in the heart of Times Square it's good to know there is a reliable and reasonable place to eat.
Even so, isn't it lamentable that Bond's is gone? Sort've. I mean, the clothing store and "international casino" are long gone. So is the concert venue, which was iconic because of The Clash in 1981. Well, really iconic because those 'greedy' concert promoters sought to fill overwhelming demand to see a red-hot band (everyone won in that transaction, if I remember correctly...fans like my brother-in-law got to say they 'were there', promoters made some good coin, Bond's made a pretty penny, and The Clash got their cut and made a name for themselves - wait, where was the "greed" again?)
Still....Bond's is GONE. Gone forever in the most reliable way you can imagine - it's not at all like those glorious summer days of 1981. And NYC is WORSE because of it. Sort've, but not really...because Bond's is a pretty good place to eat now.
I am reminded of a fellow at a recent event I attended for my alma mater, Syracuse University. This schmuck, after hearing of all the very positive changes the university was implementing, stood up and asked "But what are you doing to preserve traditions, places, and buildings from my past?" The chancellor gave a good, pat answer. As we walked out, I commented to my wife "I don't think that question has any meaning to me. I wonder how someone who graduated in 1880 would feel if he walked the campus today? Would he wish it looked and felt exactly the way it did in 1880, or are students better having things which suit them in this day and age?"
I love standing on campus, making note of the changes, and then commenting about what I did in that building, or how I used to sled down that hill, or how we once sneaked chickens into Bird Library (a feat unlikely to ever be duplicated). The past is the past, and keeping a building around simply because it's always been there isn't a winning idea anymore than it is for me to continue to wish I could still be on the Quad throwing a football.
Progress is painful, especially on our emotional ties to the past. But progress is a net positive, and we shouldn't simply let the past get in the way of progress. Even if it is because of some 'greedy' landlord in a city that epitomizes (or used to) progress. I like the fact I saw several games in the old Yankee Stadium or even Shea Stadium. But the new stadiums are still a great place to see a game, regardless of their limited history.
Beechwood fires burn bright and clear If the logs are kept a year Store your beech for Christmastide With new holly laid beside Chestnuts only good they say If for years 'tis stayed away Birch and firwood burn too fast Blaze too bright and do not last Flames from larch will shoot up high Dangerously the sparks will fly But Ashwood green and Ashwood brown Are fit for a Queen with a golden crown
Oaken logs, if dry and old Keep away the winters cold Poplar gives a bitter smoke Fills your eyes and makes you choke Elmwood burns like churchyard mould Even the very flames burn cold Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread So it is in Ireland said Applewood will scent the room Pears wood smells like a flower in bloom But Ashwood wet and Ashwood dry A King may warm his slippers by.
Good art opens vistas to the viewer that he or she wouldn’t ordinarily see or know are there. The new film American Sniper is great art, and we have Clint Eastwood to thank for it. For a nation in which so very, very few serve in the military and in combat, there is huge ignorance of the simple and essentially heroic motivations of our defenders and their sacrifices unimaginable to a civilian. Each and every serviceman experiences war in their own way, and each has a story that is unique. Most do not share that story with anyone or with more than a trusted few. I’ve probably seen as many “war movies” as anyone, and it is rare that the connections to a man’s service is served up so realistically to the audience. There are no John Waynes. There are individuals who stand tall when needed and meet their responsibilities at any cost. The theater was packed and entirely silent, not a person stirring in their seat. We filed out in silence, each person experiencing the film in their own way and thinking. How rare for a film to take the audience’s breath away. That’s art.
I read somewhere that Bob Dylan (a self-described "song and dance man") once tried to meet a girl in front of NYC's Metropolitan Museum by asking her "D'ya want to come in with me to look at some pretty pictures?"
Cute, and right. Better than "Come up and see my etchings." The young woman in question, if I recall the story right, said "No, thanks" to the scruffy little guy.
Like most people, I do not know what art means. It's maybe a useless word. "Craft" is a very useful word. "Creative" is a useless word unless applied to Michelangelo, Picasso, or Shakespeare, but even then I dislike the word.
I’m not sure that artist even makes sense as a term anymore, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see it giving way before the former ("creator"), with its more generic meaning and its connection to that contemporary holy word, creative. Joshua Wolf Shenk’s Powers of Two, last summer’s modish book on creativity, puts Lennon and McCartney with Jobs and Wozniak. A recent cover of this very magazine touted “Case Studies in Eureka Moments,” a list that started with Hemingway and ended with Taco Bell.
When works of art become commodities and nothing else, when every endeavor becomes “creative” and everybody “a creative,” then art sinks back to craft and artists back to artisans—a word that, in its adjectival form, at least, is newly popular again. Artisanal pickles, artisanal poems: what’s the difference, after all? So “art” itself may disappear: art as Art, that old high thing. Which—unless, like me, you think we need a vessel for our inner life—is nothing much to mourn.
This was news to me, from a Paris-trained chef friend.
Butter will keep for weeks or months without refrigeration, depending on how much oxygen it is exposed to. The purpose of a butter dish (or butter crock, etc) is so you can have soft, usable butter on the counter or table at all times, while protected from ambient air.
In fact, butter will stay better and fresher in a butter dish rather than in the fridge where it is exposed to ambient air. Why do Americans keep butter in the fridge? Who knows. It won't melt under 80 degrees F. Supposedly, the butter crocks that use a water seal will keep butter fresh even longer, many months. Well, butter has been around a lot longer than refrigeration.
My days of tearing bread and toast with hard butter are over, as of now. Yes, I do love butter, and even more now that we know it's healthy.
These mugs originally were made without handles for use on Navy ships, so outside lookouts could wrap their hand around one to warm up and drink coffee, too. Also, they are hard to knock over or break.
We learned how to make it right from Jewish friends. Mrs. BD has had the bug that's going around - stiff neck, headache, muscle cramps, general weakness, so I made a batch for her. No, it's not meningitis.
Quick and easy. I lightly sautee a pile of chopped onions, celery, and garlic in some olive oil and butter. I chop a few carrots, skin on. Throw them in the big crock pot. I lightly brown a few chicken legs and thighs, and throw them in, and cover with water. I toss in a bunch of herbs - bay leaf, thyme, a little rosemary, maybe tarragon, and a large pile of chopped parsley. Lots of salt and pepper.
I put the crock thing on high for 5 or 6 hours. It can't go wrong, and it is good medicine for whatever ails ya.
Pic shows a pretty cup from our everyday set, a regular logo mug, a demitasse cup from my Grandpa's set which we are using for espresso now, a good old Dunkin medium styrofoam cup, and a coffee cup aka teacup.
Mrs. BD assures me that "coffee cups" like the Cuthbertson Christmas cup in my photo are actually teacups. I do not like to drink coffee from those things, because it's too delicate and precious, does not hold enough, and gets cold too fast.
What sort of thing do you like to drink your coffee or tea from?
We linked about the failing Scandinavian welfare states this morning. We all know that everybody from China to NYC considers them contented blond cattle, weak wards of the State. Until the recent Muslim invasion, they were homogenous, all cousins.
Clearly, the Viking spirit is long gone, and the testosterone levels have dropped to the point that their males are now considered the least masculine and most risk-averse in the world - and that includes the Italians.
America is not Europe. America has no history of respect or trust in government, a history of defiance of the State, no history of serfdom, no homogeneity at all. And except for the (fortunate, in retrospect) Africans sold by their brethren and the Muslim slavers into slavery to Americans, America's traditions are based on its eager settlers, pioneers, and immigrants and are all about "leave me alone."
JFK spoke for all immigrants with his "Ask not..." speech, which stood in bold contrast to the Euroland of his time and, perhaps, in contrast to some of America today. As we say, America was not made for sissies, but for the few and the brave. Not for farm animals.
In the past week I have seen that spirit alive and well in three Hispanic immigrants and one Haitian, These four are here to try to mold their dreams and want nothing from anybody - just freedom to do their thing. In these people, I see my Polish grandfather's immigrant spirit.
He worked in an aircraft engine factory, saved every penny for 20 years, raised three sturdy athletic kids on beans, learned to speak, read and write English at night school, bought a farm, and the tough old SOB farmed it until the day he died at 82. Dairy. Also, chickens and eggs. Dug a big farm pond (pre-EPA) with a neighbor's bulldozer and filled it with catfish and white ducks and geese for special-occasion dining. Grandma would grab them, chop their heads off, gut them and feather them, and throw their feet and heads to the barn dogs to fight over.
Plenty of people, including our European forefathers, wonder if we are nuts not to want the soft life. They just don't know what they are missing. They are the benighted ones whose lack of vigor and pride are repeatedly proven. They won't even stand up for their culture anymore.
Cooked up a big batch of superb Beef Stew (my opinion) for the family crowd yesterday, to be served today for birthdays. A stew always benefits from a day's rest. I do it the Frenchie way with the cheapest cuts of meat, lardons, lots of pearl onions, porcini mushrooms, Cotes de Rhone - all the best stuff. My concoction is also good for the unwanted cuts of venison.
I slow cook it, low heat, for 6 or 7 hours, let it rest for 24 hrs, and serve on egg noodles, Italian or otherwise.
However, I somehow stumbled on recipes for liver 'n onions. I love calves liver and onions, with a side of mashed taters. (Me like chicken liver too, but that's another story.) The trick to tasty calves liver is the same as for foie gras - crispy on the outside and pink on the inside. That means high heat, quick cooking. I like liver in chunks, not slabs.
No matter how much you may fight and argue, you become bonded tight over years if you are even half-normal. It is a wonder, given all of our annoying flaws.
Readers know that we do not meander around this incredible museum colossus at random (which works fine if you are stoned and have all day but that ain't us anymore), but we only go for one show or one area. One hour only, or a little more, or you get the deadly brain affliction known here as "museum-brain."
Having accumulated a manageable dose of education and culcha, a nice lunch and a glass or two of wine nearby is perfect. Mrs. BD suggests the following for affordable cheap amazing prix-fixe lunches - make reservations) Decent dress code not a bad idea for these, ie dresses and jacket and tie.
Our long-time favorite: Giovanni Vento Cinque. Cozy, cuisine not entirely predictable but always good. My favorite? The calves liver with balsamic. That's Italian.
Caravaggio. Jacket and tie required. Wonderful and elegant but not stuffy.
If you can handle two venues in one day, stroll down to the intimate Neue Gallery and have a perfectly authentic Viennese lunch in their parlor. I have been in Vienna, and this is Vienna.
Rush said today: "Just two Muslims with guns dominated the world news, and scared the media out of their minds, for almost a week. That, my friends, is called power."
It is amazing how fearful the American MSM is of, of Muslims. The New York Times males have their panties messed up. Man up, pussies. I advise 12 ga. shotgun, not rifle or handgun. When lunatics in the vicinity, steady aim is difficult except for the pros.
He went on to explain that those two are not the real news, that the real news is the millions of Muslims all around the world who remain silent, support, or applaud their war on Western civilization. Not to mention their apologists and the scaredy-cats in the West.
Has any Muslim organization in the world condemned these sorts of evil ones yet? Not one.
Unlike some hysterics, I have no big fear of the batshit lunatics. Unlike the French, we regular Americans are well-armed. Unlike past free-world threats, these are snakes, not formidable armies. Slippery, though, because Islam advises them to lie to nonbelievers so, if in the wrong place at the wrong time, these snakes can bite. They need killing, same as a rattlesnake in the barn.
This idiotic war has been going on for a long time, since around 600 AD. We are on the side of the crusaders, defending the foundations of Judeo-Christian civ. It ain't perfect, but it's OK. The French may need a Charles Martel, but most of the West just needs a St. Patrick to eliminate the snakes. Send them packing back to whence they came along with their loony cult and their hopeless, ignorant, pedophile, goat-f-ing, wife-beating, bloody, desert culture where their fun was in killing eachother and nobody really cared what they did until WW1.
My only problem with all of this is that I have some Muslim friends and colleagues who I respect - and vice-versa - and whose company I enjoy a great deal. They have zero interest in killing me for my Christian faith and I believe it because we've talked over (many) beers in NYC pubs. In fact, in my heart I would rather bring them to Christ than they are interested in bringing me to their Mohammed prophet.
For me, live and let live - but if you want to harm me, I will kill you and I have the means and the heart to do so with no remorse.
I always wondered whatever happened to organ grinders. I'd never seen one in the US, except on cartoons or in old movies. I saw quite a few when I lived in London in 1983 (I have a picture of a particularly colorful one). I had no idea LaGuardia outlawed them, or his reasons for doing so. With the swipe of a pen, he outlawed a form of employment (beats the hell out of other forms of begging, if you ask me). But you can be assured, it was in the "best interest of the people" (and the monkeys!). I'm certain this is precisely how Mayor Bill feels about horse carriages. His views are the only ones that matter because nobody else really cares about those poor horses, right? It's in our best interest, of course. Below is a picture of one of the last legal organ grinders in NYC.
Around here, there are three bird species which annoy the heck out of me. They especially annoy me in winter, because they eat most of the bird food I put out to attract native winter visitors from Canada.
The House Finch (not to be confused with the Purple Finch), imported from southern California and Mexico
and the European Starling, imported from England - no photo needed I am sure. The only good use for these three species is to feed migrating falcons and Sharpies, and to provide target practice for kids with BB guns and .22s.
Europe dreams that it has entered a post-historical paradise of international peace and social tranquillity resting on blue model social capitalism and the cooling of religious passion. In reality, every year the foundations of Europe’s peace and order are eroding. The great achievements of European civilization and culture have to be defended, and at the end of the day you can’t defend something unless you believe in it.
...with Wolf Blitzer of appeasement-oriented CNN already muttering about Charlie Hebdo occasionally going “over the line,” as Pundit Press notes today, and Ed Morrissey paraphrasing at Hot Air that the Financial Times thinks that “Charlie Hebdo kinda asked for it, y’know?”, tomorrow’s news stories write themselves, don’t they?
Fox News anchor Shepard Smith went on an editorial rant against those rushing to judgment and suggesting that the terrorists who massacred twelve people at Charlie Hebdo on Wednesday might be — gasp — Muslims.
Ladies do love their orgasms and tend to value them more highly than men do. They are deeper, and last longer, than the male version.
I have known women who come to orgasm when just making out with their hubbies, and women who cannot achieve climax after an hour of rambunctious bedroom fun. Quite a few women have orgasms with exercise in the gym, on horses, or with a quick masturbation. It's a spectrum, and I do not think that it is mainly psychological. Male primates were designed to spread their alpha seed by any means possible, and they did, and still do, often selfishly without extensive attention to female satisfaction. Biologically, the female pleasure component is just gravy but it makes the fellows feel extra happy.
Women envy those hot women who can orgasm after a minute of sexual activity. Most can not. One lucky gal I spoke with told me that she orgasms the instant her husband's organ touches her labia, and goes on for six or seven more thereafter in twenty minutes. Guys love women like that but it is relatively rare. It seems to be mostly about the anatomy of the clitoris although in the first episodes of a hot new romance anything can happen.
My impression is that higher ed is an industry today, government-subsidized. They will take almost anybody regardless of IQ, character, academic achievement or curiosity, etc. and run them through their credentialing machine for big bucks.
The global cooling we are experiencing inspired me to consider some truly fine cool-weather all-white breakfast eats which are not easily found in Yankee-land. The good stuff that sticks to your 
The (no math)
This was news to me, from a Paris-trained chef friend.
In reference to our Scientific Survey about coffee containers, a reader sends this:
We linked about the failing Scandinavian welfare states this morning. We all know that everybody from China to NYC considers them contented blond cattle, weak wards of the State. Until the recent Muslim invasion, they were homogenous, all cousins.
opinion) for the family crowd yesterday, to be served today for birthdays. A stew always benefits from a day's rest. I do it the Frenchie way with the cheapest cuts of meat, lardons, lots of pearl onions, porcini mushrooms, Cotes de Rhone - all the best stuff. My concoction is also good for the unwanted cuts of venison. 
Rush said today: "Just two Muslims with guns dominated the world news, and scared the media out of their minds, for almost a week. That, my friends, is called power."
Unlike some hysterics, I have no big fear of the batshit lunatics. Unlike the French, we regular Americans are well-armed. Unlike past free-world threats, these are snakes, not formidable armies. Slippery, though, because Islam advises them to lie to nonbelievers so, if in the wrong place at the wrong time, these snakes can bite. They need killing, same as a rattlesnake in the barn.
It's been smoldering for years, but Jihad is not smoldering anymore in Europe. 
Ladies do love their orgasms and tend to value them more highly than men do. They are deeper, and last longer, than the male version.