Poor Danny Quayle gets a lot of undeserved bad press. Many of the QuayleQuote™ attributed to him are apocryphal at best and have often been recycled as Bushisms® or GoreLies(pat. pend.).

Even his defining Spelling Bee Moment is far more nuanced than Leno et.al. would like us to believe. Quayle was handed a flash card with the word misspelled and gamely played along. True, he should have caught the error himself, but I think the story should be more revealing about the state of teacher education than the education level of our vice-president.

Bush was NOT my first choice as a Republican nominee in 2000. If we were destined to have a empty-headed C-student president, I'd have much rather have Quayle in the Oval Office than the current occupant.

So, Mudge...
Did you have a good time last light with Hypnos and Morpheus?

What would it have been like for a oilfield worker's daughter to have gone to Harvard or Yale or Princeton? My grades would have gotten me in.

I coulda been a contenda...

(reposting...)

SCC: QuayleQuotes™ should have been plural. See why I am sympathetic to a guy who makes the occasional linguistic gaffe.

"What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is."

True that.

They have eating clubs at Princeton and costumed balls?

The only thing close to a Princeton Ivy eating club with its long rows of tables was the Samoa cookhouse out on the Samoa spit--weat toward the ocean from Arcata and Humboldt State--where the lumberjacks formerly congregated for their ingestion of mega-calories meals.

And the only Princeton-like costumes I encountered at Humboldt was dressing my college boyfriend in back tights (helping Jeff put on the hosiery) and a makeshift tunic so that he could be a knight on a Spurs (sophomore service organization for young women) float that was part of the annual Homecoming Parade.

And Caldwell and Thomason certainly screwed up the story of Princeton's third president, Jonathan Edwards, for the sake of their bestseller, "The Rule of Four," didn't they? And were there really (in real life) Tafts associated with the ivy halls of this prestigious New Jersey institution of higher learning?

And what's it really like to attend and graduate Princeton, anyhow, since we now on the subject of Aaron Burr?

SCC:
weat=west
we now on=we're now on

Could I have improved my typing ability at Princeton? Since my father's goal for me in high school was that I become a nice secretary some place.

Good quote, Mudge:
"The strong take from the weak, but the smart take from the strong."

...unless you just happen to be a better shot...

"Mushroom: The True Story of the A-Bomb Kid" by John Aristotle Phillips is about the author designing an atomic bomb for his senior thesis at Princeton. It's got a lot of interesting Princeton lore in it.

It also tells about the incredibly inept attempts by Pakistani agents to get nuclear secrets. They obviously finally succeeded.

And how come Joel gets to use "piss" and we don't?

I guess we do. Someone needs to do some research using the official George Carlin seven dirty word with current FCC addenda to come up with the canonical list of just what we can get through the Cohen Free Speech Filter.

If you really want to upset the Thomas Jefferson re-enactors, Clay Jenkinson of Reno and Bill Barker of Colinial Williamsburg...

[FRIDAY, MAY 14, 2004 8:00 a.m. Breakfast with President Thomas Jefferson, portrayed by Bill Barker of Colonial Williamsburg, will be reserved for the first 300 people. Immediately following breakfast Jefferson will entertain with a dramatic presentation. Tickets are on sale now for $16 in advance ($19 at the door), and can be obtained by calling or visiting the Alton Convention and Visitors’ Bureau, 200 Piasa St., Alton, Ill., 618-465-6676.

then you must play to them in their charcter as Jefferson. On the stage, they are not willing, in their costumes, to talk about their lives as actors. So go in character to them...as Sally Hemmings.

The question that I asked both of them at different times, a handful of years apart was:

"Let's pretend that I am Sally Hemmings. When you made love to me, did you consider me three-fifths of a person?"

You will render them either speechless or very, very angry and pinker than a Maine lobster (...even if you're sicker than a dog with flu and have a temperature of about 101, as I did the first time I posed that question to Jenkinson at the Louisville Library).

Perhaps this explains why reenactor John Hall, formerly from Connecticut, left the stage after his gig with Barker-as-Jefferson, and came into the audience and kissed my hand.

I wonder if there will ever be a Cheney reenactor...oh say, several hundred years from now?

That's a great prank to play on re-enactors. I find the "never break character" ones very annoying. I ran across on on the Mayflower replica that refused to answer my ten year old son's questions about anything that happened after "he" sailed back to England.

That's not helpful or educational.

Aaron Burr had more class than Cheney. He was a graduate of Princeton and the grandson of none other than Jonathan Edwards.

Current Princeton bored of trustees:

13 of 38 positions filled by women, roughtly 33 percent (including Mellody L. Hobson, who often appears on ABC'S GMA with her consumer economic news).

http://www.princeton.edu/~vp/trustees/Trustee&photo.html

LindaLoo....

Just came across some old literature from the Greek church here and there is a Loomis family in there. We might be related somehow after all.

Kids think the damnedest things, but the unaccountable fact that the veep lived in the Naval Observatory was always intriguing to me.

I figured there was this vine-swathed hilltop dome in a remote corner of NW. (DC was too far for an 8-year-old to bike, but there was a mysterious twin city aspect to it viewed from the highest hills of Arlington.) There I imagined he must wander the halls like a castaway, studying his sextants and squinting at the heavens.

Astrology had quite a role in the running of the Reagan Administration, what about astronomy? Did the VP figure in this?

And every once in a while he went out to a funeral--which added to the melancholy image. A kind of of seer/undertaker figure.

Later I realized vice-presidents were pretty much a disappointing bunch. And any hopes that they would have anything to do with "vice" in the sense of the popular cop show were quashed -- that was the president's job.

Hamilton as "Publius" makes Burr, by comparison, look like a thorny toad, a reptilian desert assasin of one of America's most important founders. January 11th should be a national holiday - July 11th a national day of infamy.

The VP hasn't lived at the Naval Observatory for very long. When I was a kid, we used to go past Hubert Humphrey's house in the way to my grandmother's house in Chevy Chase.

I think the fact that the VP lived in his own home only added to the insignificance of the office.

After doing some quick googling I see that Mondale was the first VP to actually live at Number One Observatory Circle.

Yeah, candide, we had the discussion about Aaron Burr's family several weeks ago. Sad, sad story about his parents dying young. He would have been much different, I think, had his father lived to bring him up.

Hey, Shiloh! Missed you for the past few days. Good to see you back.

How sad that both Aaron Burr and Sam Colt lost their mothers at such tender ages.
History would perhaps have been very different indeed...

rikken writes:
Astrology had quite a role in the running of the Reagan Administration, what about astronomy? Did the VP figure in this?

Nancy Davis Reagan a daughter of ancient Windsor, Conn.--adopted as a child...

Thanks, sly, I've been busy for a change, with several deadlines looming. I pop in to read the boodle, but had little to contribute. Sometimes my priority is stuffing my wallet with engraved pix of Alexander Hamilton, Ben Franklin and other founders by doing a little work.

Repost of one graf from 10:26 p.m. last night...

You have catacombs of sorts. The student "Paul" (name chosen purposefully?) who acts as a disciple of sorts, as well as "Tom. (who must have proof)" You have two generations of researchers working on the same problem/challenge, you have poor backgroud v. privileged upbringing, you have conflicts between pairs (and a trio) of researchers.

***YOU HAVE DULL, PLODDING RESEARCHERS, AND THOSE WHO ARE INSPIRED AND GIFTED.*** You have war v. love in the research.

I rather prefer the bills with Cleveland's, Madison's, Chase's and Wilson's faces on them.

The only $1M bill I saw was framed behind the bar in Luckenbach, Texas, and Loomis-descendant Millard Fillmore's mug was on it. How cool is that?

Welcome back, Shiloh.

Loomis, what other female, besides Hobson, is on the "bored"?

Cassandra,
Use the link I provided. Click on it to see the full bored.

Thanks Ian and Dustin:

We've come to tell the story of the college of the Lord,
But the grapes of wrath fermented in the vintage where they're stored,
So excuse us if we're all a little drunk out of our gourd.
We saints go marching on.

Glory, Glory, we're the fossils
Of all the Nazarene apostles.
If it weren't for Christ we'd be
Just fishermen from Galilee,
So listen to our tale.

Now, Jesus was your average ancient Middle Eastern male.
He went to school, but had a special holy grail:
He'd rather burn in hell than to go to Harvard or to Yale,
So the choice was pretty clear.

Glory, Glory, God convinced Him,
Jesus Christ, He went to Princeton.
He made the right decision
When He majored in Religion
And the rest is history.

So Christ arrived on campus in the fall of year 18,
The Biggest Man on Campus that the world had ever seen.
It made the other eating clubs turn jealous Ivy green
When Jesus chose T.I. (Tiger Inn)

Chorus: Glory, Glory, Jesus bickered,
All the snoooty heathens snickered.
Ivy: We couldn't take a Jew;
Cottage: A carpenter won't do;
Chorus: So the Lord, He joined T.I.

Jesus, Jesus, He's a fun guy.
Thanks to Him we're all alumni.
There's nothing so divine
As turning water into wine,
His truth is marching on.*

*Based on "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" by fortyish, red-haired Julia Ward Howe. Based on the battle hymn "John's Brown's Body." Based on both a Black Evangelical camp meting tune and Loomis-descendant John Brown.

http://www.africanamericans.com/BattleHymnoftheRepublic.htm

Linda, that group of people makes me feel like a complete failure. Oh well...

Of course, I'm leaving the workforce behind at the end of the year. I'll be 53 and have no guilt whatsoever about doing so. One's choices do have such an impact on life, don't they?

Ha!
yellojkt, your story about the never-break-character "ones" made me snort. ("refused to answer my ten year old son's questions about anything that happened after 'he' sailed back to England." Ha!)

I think adults have a responsibility to avoid giving children the creeps, even if that means stepping down from their various soap boxes once in awhile. I'm pretty sure that if I'd been a ten-year-old kid, I'd have been a bit creeped out by that Mayflower guy.

yellojkt, I totally hear you about obsessive re-enactors. As I mentioned in a previous post, my family encountered one of these purists in Williamsburg. Although he wasn’t actually rude, he did manage to totally confuse my Learning Disabled daughter to the point where she was near tears. I don’t think he meant it, and I do have sympathy for most of these people since I am sure they don’t get paid squat. Nevertheless, a little less authenticity and a little bit more sensitivity is needed.

Slyness are you really going to retire at 53? I'm impressed. A quick look at my finances confirms that with careful planning I should be able to retire at 97.

Yes, I will have my 30 years and there's nothing that tempts me to stay longer. My kids are up and (mostly) gone, so with that behind me, I'm outathere! Of course, my husband has to work another six years, and I will seek part-time employment if necessary, but I'm looking forward to not having to get up every weekday.

RD Padouk:
Some children also seem to be disturbed by those street mimes in, say, Battery Park, who dress up as the Statue of Liberty, or in Vienna, who dress up as metallic-looking busts of Mozart. I saw a particularly eerie-looking one in the Rocks area of Sydney Harbor about a year ago. I can't for the life of me remember what he/she was dressed as -- I think it was some self-created concoction rather than an actual character, spray-painted in silver. A little girl walking by with her parents was absolutely petrified of this statue-cum-living creature -- quite understandably. She hid behind her mother, but the person kept trying to play peek-a-boo with her. The mother didn't seem to realize just how upset the little girl was, and continued to laugh and joke with the mime and try to encourage her daughter to engage.

[End of criticism of someone's parenting skills by jackass who is not a parent. What the bleep would I know?]

Been away from the blog all day, till now. (Yes, Loomis, I got along with Morpheus very well last evening.)

Before dealing with today’s kit, I have some old bidness to take care of:

1)Dreamer, I am shocked! Shocked! I must needs break longstanding Achenblog tradition and offer up an SCC on your behalf: They are not “Canadian geese,” but Canada geese. Pray consult your AP Style Book!

2)Today was youngest daughter’s 23rd birthday, and in accordance with family custom, she was the guest at dinner, which I cooked. The menu:

A pre-dinner cocktail, called a Sgroppino: in a tall fluted glass put two melon-ball-sized scoops of lemon sorbet. Add half a shot of vodka. Fill to top with Prosecco (an Italian sparkling wine similar to champagne). Drop in a mint leaf if ya got one (I didn’t).

Appetizer: The Curmudgeon onion (see previous kit)

Main course: Grilled Lime Chicken.

Recipe (liberally adapted from the Hearty Boys on FoodTV):

1/4 cup fresh lime juice
2 limes, zested (I only had one lime, so used one lime and one lemon)
1 teaspoon cumin
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro leaves
2 tablespoons chopped shallots
1 tablespoon honey
1/2 cup olive oil
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
½ cup sherry (OK to substitute port, marsala or a white wine)

Cut up the chicken breast into five or six pieces each (or even smaller cubes, if you wish), and place in large non-reactive bowl. Put the lime juice, zest, cumin, cilantro, shallots and honey in a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the olive oil, salt and pepper, and pulse to mix. Pour the mixture into the bowl and toss to coat the chicken pieces; cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 hours.
Heat a large skillet (cast-iron preferred, but stainless will work) on high heat for 3 minutes. Put the chicken into the pan and grill 3 to 5 minutes per side, or until the juice runs clear if speared with a knife, and the chicken starts to brown/carmelized. Turn the chicken and do the other side. When browned, add the sherry to deglaze the pan; stir the sherry around to free up the browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Place the pan in a 375-degree oven (pre-heated in this case, ‘cause the Curmudgeon onions were doing their last 20 minutes in there) for about 20 minutes. Serve, spooning the sauce from the pan over the chicken.

Grilled asparagus: In a large frying pan, place asparagus, and drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle generously with Mrs. Dash’s Original. Cook about 10 minutes.

Angel Hair Pasta Roni with Parmesan sauce: Follow instructions on the box. (Hey, I never claimed to be Jacques Pepin here).
While waiting for main course to cook, serve Sgroppinos and Curmudgeon onion appetizer (like serving French onion soup). Try to avoid Curmudgeonly mistake of finishing Sgroppino and making self a second one, resulting in a pleasant, glassy-eyed buzz during main course, accompanied by silly s---eating grin.

3)Memo to self: drinking several Sgroppinos is not a good way to stay alert for season debut of new episode of The Sopranos in less than an hour. Suggest finding some sort of caffeine in next few minutes.

OK, now the matter at hand. Er…what was the matter at hand?

Hey, welcome back, Shiloh. Anybody heard from Eurotrash lately? Euro, bist du aus there?

Yeah, I’m in the same fix as you, Padouk. I figure I’ll be able to retire three to five years after I’m dead.

Yes, Loomis, I was always envious of those Ivy League colleges, too. Sometimes I think, “They just got pretty much the same college education as the rest of us who went to Podunk U.” Then I read something like The Rule of Four, and realize, uh, no, they didn’t.

I think kids get disturbed by people who wear makeup that distorts their facial features, making it hard to read the face.
This would explain why they refuse to be kissed by Great-Aunt Raccoon-Face as well.

I have some friends who are seriously freaked by clowns. Myself, it's dolls that get my particular disdain, because those china face dolls are just too inhumanly pretty-- no living human being ever looked like that, yet they look like they're one breath away from being alive. I always want to rip up every one I see.

You can be an effective mime without using greasepaint at all. Red Skeleton did it all the time.
The deaf mime, Billy Bragg also has been known to perform without greasepaint-- I saw a performance of his once and liked it, he was performing for a schoolful of children, so that was a smart move.

I think this 'greasepaint'/distorted face issue is why people hate mimes. I never understood that myself, they can be extremely fun to watch. A ballet is after all a pantomime, although the weird outfits mercifully end at the neck in ballet most of the time. Although I'll be the first to wish that male dancers wore tutus too.

Watch the bejing opera-- white face, mime with singing, fighting-- that's dead awesome. You totally dig how Jackie Chan learned his fighting choreography skills at the Bejing school for Opera.
It does help that they don't go in for overapplying lipstick, I think. You can actually see the expression change.

Thanks for the cxn re. Canada geese, 'mudge.
(Don't know what to tell ya, other than to say I'm a little more lackadaisical with the language than Tom fan is.)

(I also must belatedly SCC my "Sydney Harbor" spelling above. It's Sydney Harbour with a "u," of course -- my Aussie/British spelling has been corrupted as a result of my working in the U.S.)

Wilbrod:
The thing about clowns and mimes is, sometimes a person just isn't in the mood for them. And they seem to have a knack for being around precisely when one isn't in the mood. Same goes for those guys who walk around restaurants playing violins and accordians -- my husband and I have been known to skip dessert and coffee just so we can be out of there before it's our turn to be serenaded. ('Mudge isn't the only curmudgeon around here.) (But really, you just don't know where to look in that situation -- you feel like "a bit of a gig.")

My brother and his wife were once in the middle of an argument when they were approached by one of these musicians while dining out. They just had to sit there uncomfortably until he was done. They have never been back to that restaurant, even though they rather liked it.

And don't get me started on those flower sellers . . .

>Thanks for the cxn re. Canada geese, 'mudge.

I think I started the "Canadian geese".

Sorry, I'm just telling you what they told me, ok?

Mudge writes:
Yes, Loomis, I was always envious of those Ivy League colleges, too. Sometimes I think, “They just got pretty much the same college education as the rest of us who went to Podunk U.” Then I read something like The Rule of Four, and realize, uh, no, they didn’t.

The Podunks, a Native American nation, were located very close to ancient Windsor, Conn. Yale would have been nice, or Harvard, where my distant great-grandfather John Wilson Jr. was among the college's first class.

Dinner at your house sounds nice, Mudge. Hubby putting in a 12-hour day, apparently. He finally made it home for our pancake breakfast at 4 p.m.

Error:
Also, George Harrison referred to them as Canadian geese in "Pisces Fish," so we probably shouldn't beat ourselves up about it *too* much.

Dreamer, I decided to take poetic license with what's left of the English language long, long ago. No worries.

I just try to get the spelling right. :-)

'Mudge, you can cook at my house any time.

Oh, I did have a failure. I put half a chopped shallot in tuna salad; I thought it was good, but my hubby asked me not to do that again. I guess he's just not so adventurous. Oh well.

Oh my, we have gotten ourselves somewhat off topic, haven't we?

I wonder how the veep feels about clowns, street mimes, restaurant serenaders and the like. Somehow I can't picture him suffering them gladly. (I'll avoid making any jokes about firing guns.) In fact, the thought of him in such a situation reminds me of that Saturday Night Live skit in which Norm McDonald played Bob Dole as one of the seven roomies in The Real World. He would lie awake at night, fully clothed and with a frightened look on his face, listening to the shocking confessions from the occupants of the other bunk beds. I *loved* that skit.

And I heart Norm McDonald. I saw him once at a comedy club in D.C. When I went to the bathroom before the show, I encountered him hanging around in his jeans and T-shirt -- I think he was waiting for his girlfriend to come out of the bathroom, or something. Of course, I was too Achenshy to say anything to him. But I kind of wish I'd had the nerve to say "Hi."

Mudge, you've inspired me to start off Sunday evening with a glass of wine. Sounds like a great recipe. I rarely cook these days. My dear husband watches the Food Channel and comes up with some good dinners. I'll have to get a copy of the Achencookbook when it comes out.

I've never understood why they're Canada, not Canadian, geese. What is the difference? Both names imply they come from Canada, or are Canadian, no?

(Moveable Type seems to be eating letters, sometimes whole words - please accept my SCC in advance - and I haven't even opened the bottle yet!)

Tom fan, I started Shroder's book, Old Souls - very good. I also found a Ruth Rendell book on the library shelf that I don't think I've read - Keys to the Street - or if I have read it, I don't remember. It came out in 1998, so I'm fairly sure I missed it.

Now I have to read the Seattle Sunday paper, read the WaPo online, listen to about half a dozen CD's I borrowed from the library, do some crocheting...I coppiced several plants today (cut them to within an inch of their lives). I've been meaning to do that for years, but usually put it off. Today was a glorious, blue sky, sunshiny day here.

Oh, and I won't ever be able to retire either. Unless I win the lottery.

mostlylurking:
I've found that sometimes the cursor will spontaneously move to a different, random location in the comment box while I'm typing.

[Memo to the kids out there: Note the use of "random" in the previous sentence and compare with "spontaneous."]

When the cursor moves like that, the words you thought you were typing at the bottom of your post start being typed over the top of existing words.

As I've said, Hal is GOOD. (Unless the problem is due to user failure -- it's possible I still haven't quite figured out how to use my new laptop.)
(But it's more fun to blame Hal.)

[In case you haven't guessed, today is another waiting-at-home-for-a-delivery day. Most people have an amah to do that, but I refuse to have an amah. For now, *I* am the amah. (Goo goo ga joob.)]

[Remind me to 'boodle about amahs and their bathroom-sized living quarters sometime.]

>cursor will spontaneously move

Before typing, try selecting the text area (ctrl-A on Windows) and hitting the Delete key. It should clean out the buffer and tab characters and put you at the beginning of the post.
By the way, the geese (whatever their nationality) returned for a bit of play in the creek. At least there's only two of them.

I've got at least a dozen #(@#&!! deer.

Anybody watching the Sopranos? Boy, that was two shockers back-to-back. And there was more food on that episode than the last few Achenboodles.

The job of VPOTUS reminds me of the old saw about idle hands being the devil's workshop.

Dickie gets to playin' with his Red Ryder, and boom!, next thing you know, he's damn near put somone's eye out.

On a different note: Is it me, or has POTUS been conspicuously busy-looking since September?

bc

Wow. The delivery man just came. Early. The first time he rang the doorbell, I was hanging out the laundry and didn't hear him, but he wasn't the least bit fazed -- said he never worries about no-shows when people are awaiting furniture they've already paid for.

[Note: It's really easy to drop the clothes pegs whilst hanging laundry from those clotheslines that jut out from Hong Kong highrises. I think the designers of these clotheslines are in cahoots with the clothes pegs manufacturers.]

Anyway, this man immediately presented me with a business card for his *other* line of work. He is Mr. Magic Miracle, purveyor of a "holistic approach to health and transport." ("Make one's life much, much and much longer," the card says.) He gave me a little red book of testimonials to read while he was removing the padding from the coffee table he'd just delivered. People who'd suffered back or joint pain, numbness, etc., being cured by Mr. Magic Miracle in 10 minutes -- by accupressure, I think. (He also goes by the name of Magic, as well as Miracle. And sometimes Patrick.)

M was so happy and peaceful -- so free of umbrage. I don't for one moment doubt that he can work these kinds of miracles. I told him I was fortunate enough to be feeling well right now but that I'd give him a call if I ever had a problem. He was totally fine with that. I told him I was a firm believer in holistic medicine and not much of a fan of drugs. He said, "Ah! -- if you believe, it will work."

Indeed.

What a great start to the day. And now I'm free to do as I please. I think I'll head out to the New Territories and see if I can find my way to the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas. (There are actually 12,800 Buddhas there, apparently.)

Slyness: Thanks for indirectly affirming my choice regarding my current residence this a.m....I lived in Clt long enough to see it transform from a rather quaint city into one fraught with typical city blues. I must say, however that the fellowship displayed in the aftermath of Hugo was extraordinary. I'll take a small town anytime. My bro still lives in P/Mw...

'mudge: I assume that you saw Mr. Clark race in the streets of the village...I'm no student of history but I don't think that the existing track was built in Watkins Glen in 66/67...I have a Hot Wheels of Clarks car; my son gets a lot of pleasure playing with such things...

Achenfan: I hope that my use of various and sundry accents is at least agreeable...shortening words is a carry over from teaching...annoying?

EFlyn: sorry to have dropped off last night...I share your propensity for convertibles...had a 67 Mustang with 3 or four different body panels, 289/3 spd. and slotted Keystone mags...had a good time in town one night and sought to see what the pony could do on the way to our house in the country. Wound it up in second, hit third, stomped it and promptly got every red light in the instrument cluster...glided the last 1/4 mi. home, got the car up the drive using the starter and sold it a couple of weeks later for what I bought it for...one chalked up to being young and foolish...

Anyone seen Cheney on the front page of the Globe at the supermarket checkout??? Their version had the VP ensnared with another woman...Lordy ,Lordy...

>the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas. (There are actually 12,800 Buddhas there, apparently

Under-promise and over-deliver, that's what I like about the Buddhists.

Where's Shiloh?!

Canadian geese used to graze, produce copious anounts of guano, and have the nerve to occupy 1/2 of the field when I practiced our soccer team...horrors

Sorry, 'Mudge...Canada geese...

Watkins Glen was an enclosed track in '67, Jack. Don't know when that started, though. Would have liked to see them race through town. Always wanted to see Monaco for that reason. My heroes back then were Jackie Stewart, Phil Hill, Jackie Surtees. Andretti came along much later, and I kinda had a little contempt for Indy drivers who only ever drove ovals. I still don't like NASCAR today for the same reason--it's just not the same thing as an F1 track.

The F1 race today in Bahrain was quite a nail-biter. First time I'd seen Nico Rosberg!

I'd love to do Monaco. Just need the $10k cruise from Nice via GP Tours, watching the race from a private balcony.

Airfare extra, of course.

One of my dream holidays would be to travel to Monaco during GP week...have had to settle for qualifying at CMS when there used to be boxing matches in a ring set up in the middle of the main grandstand copious amounts of golden beverages, followed by qualifying and topped off by a sportsman's race with 60 some odd entries...the rules for the sportsman's division included a 2 barrel on a V8 of limited size packaged in an old Grand National body/chassis...the ensuing race was incredible in terms of the number of fiery wrecks (the first time I heard wreck used I thought someone was involved in a train wreck, since that was my only frame of reference) and, eventually a couple of fatalities...the Sportsman's division has since been retired. I have the same prejudice regarding Indy car drivers/open wheeled dirvers jumping to NASCAR. Shelby might have referred to them as foreign drivers.

>One of my dream holidays would be to travel to Monaco during GP week.

Hey, with bc and 'Mudge we could probably get a package deal.

How about an AcenCannonball from Paris to Monaco? Two teams... cameras... somebody call Ferrari and Aston Martin.

OK, so I've just returned from the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas, and I have to say, it's ruined me for all other temples. Fantastic; absolutely fantastic.

The main temple and various other temples, pagodas, and statues are located on the side of a hill behind Shatin Pai Tau Village. Visitors must climb 431 steps to reach the complex, but the walk is enchanting rather than arduous. On both sides of the staircase is a continuous row of life-sized gold-painted Buddhas to be admired along the way. Each has its own facial characteristics and expression. Some look peaceful, and some look rather anxious. (One looks quite mad.) Some are old, and some young. Some are fat, but most are thin. Some are holding a book, a piece of fruit, a musical instrument, or a walking stick. One is standing on top of a tortoise.

You arrive at the top feeling quite exhiliarated, surrounded by birdsong and a panoramic mountain view. And more Buddhas. In addition to the life-sized variety, there are giant Buddhas, and also tiny Buddhas that fill the walls and pillars of the main temple as well as a pagoda, which can be climbed by means of a spiral staircase, just in case you feel you haven't climbed enough stairs yet. (I went about halfway up before realizing there really wasn't much to see from inside the pagoda.) Out in the courtyard are a huge white painted elephant and a blue temple dog.

Mingled in with the Buddhist effigies are brightly colored statues of various Chinese gods -- I think [Daoist? Shinto? I'm really not sure, I'm afraid. Not too many signs in English out there.] And all of it is so well-maintained.

Unfortunately, I didn't see any actual Buddhist monks there -- although I did see one at the immigration department the other day when I went to get my Hong Kong ID card (a very efficient place -- and, unlike when I went to the INS in Arlington to get my work permit, I didn't see anyone being led away in shackles). The monk was wearing the coolest sandles. (With socks, but they still looked cool.) [What was that I was saying about getting off topic?]

My only regret is that I didn't use the facilities before I left Hong Kong's central business district. The toilets at the Shatin railway station are of the hole-in-the-ground variety (although there was a handrail and one step up, and even toilet paper -- luxury!)

You haven't "hovered" until you've used toilets like these. (And there are no seat covers -- in fact, no seats! Like I always say, if you ever find yourself in a public restroom where you *really* need a seat cover, they ain't gonna be provided.) But I always feel I've accomplished something when I've used one of these WCs without incident, as though it's good for the moral fiber, or something.

[If there's anything worse than a Porch Bore, to use Joel's terminology, it's a Temple Bore, with Toilet Bore running a close second. I do apologize.]

Achenfan, thanks for the account of the temple and auxiliary adventures. Not the least bit "boring"--the reason you didn't get a lot of responses is because everybody stateside was sleeping when you wrote it. It is really wonderful that you can be part of the A-blog from the other side of the world. Keep it up!!

Love the travelog, Achenfan, especially the description of the many different Buddhas. Some toilets I've encountered in Europe are similar to the ones you mentioned. Not fun. It must be interesting to visit the special sights of a new city. How big is Hong Kong, populationwise? You may already given that information but my boodle reading of late has been interruped by work.

We need someone to compile all the recipies the last few boodles into and Achencookbook like the Archendictionary. We could tie it with a shower ribbon and present it to Sara/Jeremy & Kristen/Jeremy.

There is a readworthy article in the March 13, 2006 New Yorker (I read the paper version so no link) on pg 58, titled "Political Science, The White House vs. the laboratory" by Michael Specter - A Reporter At Large. It makes one want to cry. Can't we save this country from this administration?It's about science so on topic.

bdl

Thanks for the compliments, kbertocci and bdl!

bdl:
The population of Hong Kong is around 7 million -- I guess that includes Kowloon, the New Territories, and various other islands in addition to the island of Hong Kong itself.

It's quite densely populated -- a bit like an Asian version of New York City. Lots of taxi cabs -- buy they're red, not yellow. People seem to be either rushing around madly, or walking incredibly slowly -- dawdling. On one hand you've got those who practically throw themselves in front of you just as you're about to step onto an escalator or subway car, or those who start putting their groceries on the conveyor belt at the grocery store even though they're behind you in line, if you're not quick enough. On the other hand are those who make me think, Oh these people are walking so Achenslowly! If they were going any slower, they'd be going backwards! I'm trying to go with the flow, and trying to remind myself that whatever part of the world you're in, there are people with common sense and those without; there are those who are considerate of others and those who are not. Just as is the case in D.C., there are those who stand on the correct side of the escalator so that others may pass, and there are those who stand side by side and create traffic jams. (As Jerry Seinfeld once said, "It's not a ride! Do your legs work *at all*?") It's easy to chalk these behaviors up as characteristics of a particular city's population, but really, people are people wherever you go, and they can't be put into neat little boxes. (I need to keep reminding myself of that -- some days more than others.)

Re: escalators

One of my dad's favorite stories is from when he was in the London Underground, one of those giant 3-level escalators, and there were some people standing on the left side, blocking traffic. Some other people wormed their way around and past, and as they passed, Dad heard them mutter, "Bloody Americans!"

Error, etc., I've been watching Nico Rosberg for a few years now in GP2 and some of the BMW series. He's really quick, but has a youthful propensity for digging himself a hole with spins, contact, & etc when racing in close quarters. He fine when he's in front (not everyone is). Frank and Patrick got Nico's dad to settle down somewhat (at least *on* the track) back in the day, and they'll get Nico to do the same.

Hobbs, Varsha, & Matchett (and their producers) completely missed that when the one Super Aguri car had it's little pit lane incident the other SA car *was also in pit lane* (a big no-no on a green flag stop), you can see it roll right by while the pit crew is trying to sort out the situation. I 'spect that someone shouting over the team radio may have confused a few people (including at least one driver)...

I've made a comment re. the Glen back in the other 'boodle FWIW.

I have a couple of European Dream Vacations in mind.

1. 24 Hours of LeMans
2. Going to the French GP, doing some signtseeing in France and GB over the week leading to the British GP. The Donnington museum is a MUST, 'mongst other things.
3. Goodwood. No question.

Enow, for now.

bc

Meanwhile in DC we can't teach the tourists to stand on the right on Metro escalators. Some people have to get to work in the morning instead of ogling monuments with a camera around the neck.

I, too, think that Achenfan's travelogues are really interesting.

Anyone who can look cool in socks and sandals is all right with me.

jack, I've had a few drinks with Carroll, "ferrin' drivers" is probably one of the *least* colorful things he'll say when he gets going. As long as you remember that when you're with him, *you're* picking up the tab, it's a grand time.

I should also mention that I've spent time with some of those guys from back in the day (though within the last 20 years or so)like Phil Hill, Jim Hall, Roger Penske, Ma. Andretti, Denise McCluggage (ok, she's not a guy), Al Unser Sr., Richard Petty, Parnelli Jones, Don Garlits (hell, just go to the museum in Ocala, he's there most of the time), and I'm sure I'm forgetting some others. I've also spoken Mark Donohue's son David at length (nice guy). My least favorite: AJ Foyt (even bees don't like him). My favorite: Dan Gurney.

bc

AJ really jumped the shark for me when he hit Arie Luyendyck in the back of the head. Can't remember which year it was.. AJ thought his kid had won but he was actually a lap behind. Arie went to winner's circle to tell him the scoring was off and he might want to wait a bit until celebrating. As he walked away AJ came at him from the back. Pretty ugly scene.

Did you know there was a man who declared himself the first emperor of the United States? Maybe Cheney and his "cabal" could try for something like that? Somebody might actually notice this time.