Evidently Ireland's real estate boom and some other pieces of the economy are crashing, so maybe there'll be more time for hanging out in pubs.

The Republic's economic transformation has been such that there's even direct Aer Lingus flights to deliver the Irish to the delights of Orlando. Maybe next there'll be Irish tours of Montserrat, the Caribbean island (now terrorized by its violent volcano) that had been something of an Irish colony. That episode was the subject of a history by Donald Akenson, "If the Irish Ruled the World".

Where is everbody.

Good morning all

Porches are past. My grandparents' 1920s Tudor in West Reading, Pa. had a porch tucked away on the side--so they had a porch, but it didn't sully the half-timbered front facade with the bathroom hiding in a turret above the front door.

Today, fronts are designed to intimidate. A vast meadow of mass-produced mansions on the way to Shepherdstown W.Va. makes the point--driving by, you see a lot of cheap siding, cheap-looking back decks, and, when a house is pointed in the right direction, an all-brick facade with a pair of turrets, quoins, a castle-sized door, and an incipient thicket of shrubbery to provide the Sleeping Beauty look. No shrubs on the side or rear, of course.

The Florida version is the screened pool enclosure, which is considered safe and sanitary. The actual yard is left to the lawn maintenance company, which handles the threats of mosquitos, black racers, palmetto bugs, and assorted unclean critters. Screen porches are absolutely NOT allowed on the front. In fact, my modest bench out front is probably a violation.

Omni wants to know where everybody went. It's because of me. I'm back in the last kit, wondering how Gomer junior is doing, only to discover that everybody else has moved on.

That happens to me at parties, when I go to them. Within 3.8 seconds of my exponding on the joys of, say, raising cockroaches for fun and profit, absolutely everyone within earshot has decided that the hostess needs help unclogging the garbage disposal.

Raising cockroaches for fun and profit may have something to do with that low number on the Happy Scale, Don.

I think the line "I don't depend on the guy, just on his stuff" is destined to be a classic. Could be my kids talking about their dad.

Thanks for the queries, all. The littlest member of my clan is doing very well, save for a little acid reflux. His older brother had this too, so we're not very worried. Sleep, on the other hand, remains elusive. Luckily, the new mother was able to take off for several weeks, and doesn't have to go back until late May, at which point I am taking paternity leave until the school year ends. Then, we are both at home all summer with the two boys. I intend to take the older one camping a few times this summer to let him know that he is still special, despite all the attention given to his sibling. That way we can all attain the highest possible happiness quotient.

Good Irish flix:

The Quiet Man- One of the three best of John Wayne's long career
My Left Foot- D. Day-Lewis is excellent
The Crying Game- Very very good, very thought provoking
Waking Ned Devine- just plain funny
The Commitments- Foockin' brilliant music, mon!
Into the West- Gypsy culture in a child's fantasy view
Secret of Roan Inish- I'm in the tank for John Sayles films
Shake Hands With the Devil- Jimmy Cagney in the IRA, gotta love it

Although not set in Ireland, I have to mention my favorite pub film, Sean of the Dead, because it too is "foockin' brilliant."

>Who could have predicted, 500 years ago, that capitalism would lead to people not knowing their neighbors?

Maybe not 500, but 150 years ago (this is not an endorsement or incitement):

"The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations. It has pitilessly torn asunder the motley feudal ties that bound man to his "natural superiors", and has left no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest, than callous "cash payment". It has drowned out the most heavenly ecstacies of religious fervor, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom -- Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it has substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation.

The bourgeoisie has stripped of its halo every occupation hitherto honored and looked up to with reverent awe. It has converted the physician, the lawyer, the priest, the poet, the man of science, into its paid wage laborers.

The bourgeoisie has torn away from the family its sentimental veil, and has reduced the family relation into a mere money relation."

Great list k-guy - Waking Ned Devine is brilliant. I would also add The Field with Richard Harris - pretty intense and the ending is shocking if you are not ready for it (obviously I wasn't) but still a great movie.

I have worn my Commitments CD down - time to replace.

"I wonder if, in a tight-quarters society, the prohibition evolved as a way to constrain excessive drinking and the social chaos that can come of it."

I seem to recall hearing somewhere that the particular prohibition against pouring your own sake was born from the prevalence of drunken and dangerous samurai under the theory that samurai would not become drunk in public.

The irony being (echoes of which can still be sometimes seen in Japan today) that instead of becoming drunk alone, they became drunk in groups, making it more difficult for the unruly samurai to be restrained.

Kguy -- Nice list. The Field is brutal.

I like Hear My Song,also.

DMD -- We adore The Commitments and Snapper and The Van, to make complete Roddy Doyle's Barrytown Trilogy.

My dad lived close to the bone on the Angela's Ashes world -- so close that he slammed the book shut, rather upset about the "airing of such linen."

Hunting for a telling Colm Toibin video commentary on affluence and community....

tune cootie release, "...you know when I drink alone, I prefer to be by myself," Sing it George!:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysXMAOgEIq4

Lyrics and guitar chords:
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/idrinkal.htm

This just in: American-style cheerleaders are wreaking havoc with Indian (meaning, India, as in Calcutta and Bombay India) cricket matches, including (unnamed) Washington redskins cheerleaders, according to the BBC. The entire sordid affair is described here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/7366516.stm

Joel, I think we need to get the sports desk investigative team on this right away. Also, send a photographer, please.

I still can't believe you can no longer smoke in an Irish pub.

An Irish pub is NOT a health spa.

Why should the liver be the only organ one can legally damage in a pub?

Next thing you know they'll ban smoke from seedy jazz clubs. (Oh... they did)

So I guess the next thing is to cover us all in bubble-wrap and nuke Las Vegas. Can't have people exposed to anything potentially dangerous, especially if they do so willingly. Heck... they might develop spines! They might develop an immune system! They might even find that they can not only climb trees, but fall out of them -- and learn that a broken arm is not the end of the world, but an opportunity to get the cute gal/guy in your class to sign your cast!

Wussies. That's what the world is turning into.

Just look at what the lack of smoke has done to Obama's voice! His rich baritone has been reduced to a politically-correct vanilla-flavored chardonnayish alto that only polls well in the 'burbs and cost him Ohio and Pennsylvania!

I ain't sendin' the man a monetary donation to help his campaign. I'm sendin' him a pack of Marlboros. And matches.

Do we really want to replace a dry drunk with an ex-smoker who's only quit smoking to appease a hypocritical society?

I just want to scream when I see three-bellied, four-chinned women buying shopping carts full of Twinkies and gallons of unsaturated fats to wash them down, having the nerve to complain about someone smoking a cigarette.

But it's not just them.

There's the soy freaks and vegans, the "only organic" idiots who would die if they knew what "organic" really means. Then you've got the whole wheat and forty-five grain bread elitists, not to mention the Prius drivers who look at bicycles as "so last century" and are so weak from not eating meat that they must drive the fifteen feet to the end of their driveway to get the mail.

What the world needs now is Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra to come back from the dead and smoke a big fat stogie on national TV and tell everyone to go stick their whines (red, white or whatever) up their arses.

(let's see if "arse" gets past the filter)

btw... I know that many Boodlers consider smoking to be an evil, irresponsible, immoral act, but my position is if you want to hang out in a biker bar (or an Irish pub or a jazz club), you don't do it with a chardonnay, a pastel sweater tied around your neck and the ghost of Mister Rogers as chaperone.

****

okay... I'm done ranting now. Really.

Except for...

No... I'm done...

No I'm not...

Yes I am...

No you're [ow ow ow ow ow! dangit! ow! not the face!]

{slaps self into submission and heads off to the kitchen for leftover Tuna Helper(tm))

I cannot think of Irish Pubs without thinking of Ray Bradbury's "The Anthem Sprinters" [aka "The Queen's Own Evaders"].

All of Bradbury's Irish stories are good, but that one still strikes me as highly snortworthy IMO. Probably haven't read it in 20 years, though...

bc

Mudge, WaPo had the story about the cheerleaders last weekend, I think - pictures on the front page and everything.

Don, glad your happistat is up a bit.

Sunny right now - may get close to 60 degrees today! I'm jazzed.

Being Irish from both sides of the Pale, I keep meaning to visit. Maybe the dottirs would go with me. (There's no question of that, if I'm paying!)

Interesting how our attitudes have change about smoking. I grew up with it but can't stand to be around it now. I definitely support ban on tobacco use in places of public assembly, based on the stink as much as the health problems.

Breaking news, kit-ish, writer Nuala O'Faolin is dying of cancer.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nuala_O'Faolin

I would also add that there are some decent Irish Pubs off of Connecticut Avenue in the Cleveland Park section of Washington DC.

Nanny O'Brien's and Ireland's Four Fields (formerly the Four Provinces, aka the 4Ps) are more or less across Conn Ave from each other, and I've spent a fair amount of time and money at both over the past few decades. Doubtless some other folks in here have as well... (I'm not naming names, but you know who you are).

bc

I'm with you Slyness! I grew up with two parents who smoked (who both died of lung cancer) as did most of their friends, so it was the norm for me. But I also support the ban on smoking in areas where the public gathers.

k-guy - I just put the Secret of Roan Inish in my queue a couple of days ago. I hadn't really heard of it, but as I was browsing, it caught my interest. Now, I'm really lookin g forward to it.

dmd - the guy who starred in the more recent "Once" (which Weingarten spent almost a whole chat dissing!) was the guitar player in the Committments. I kept thinking I recognized him but couldn't figure out from what movie. Then, sometime later, we put the Commitments in for our yearly viewing and I figured it out. I do love the Roddy Doyle trilogy. What a slice of life!

The thing I hate about Irish pubs is the habit that American joints have of imitating them. There are a couple of places around town (the Tilted Kilt and Bagpipes' to name a couple) where one can order Irish grub and a Guinness on tap. Well, the grub really isn't Irish as much as it is bar food that has Irishified names pinned to it. An Irish Dip sandwich? Just a French Dip with the word Irish on it. The same place had hot wings, but they were from Limerick, not Buffalo. Not really Irish pubs, just excuses to squeeze a hot waitress into a tight shirt and a short kilt.

At least the view is nice.

Pretty sure I have been to Four Provinces (that's the one on the west side of Conn. Ave, right?). All part of my lifetime ambition to eat at every restaurant on Connecticut Avenue. We have to have goals in life to get us through.

Ireland's 4Ps? With the long bar, and the dart boards over to the right? Cheap tables with at least one leg shorter than the others? Where a nickel a point means $5?

Nope. Never been there.

The Falls Church BPH was held at Ireland's Four Provinces - just about exactly one year ago. The food was great, and the company exceptional.
http://irishusa.com/4ps/

Gomer,
There's only so much bangers and mash and blood pudding you can make Americans eat. I don't even like corned beef and cabbage. Besides, being part of the British Isles, Ireland is hardly a culinary mecca. An Irish seven-course meal is a potato and a six pack.

I've managed to see two of the threee Roddy Doyle movies. I've only seen the opening of "The Wind that Shakes the Barley", but maybe that's enough to be impressed.

The local Publix supermarket now has a shelf of ethnic English food. Odd stuff that I never saw in England. Irish food seems to be restricted to those expensive steel-cut oats.

Regarding O'Faolain... a quote of hers on Wiki says "I don't want more time. As soon as I heard I was going to die, the goodness went from life."

Sorry, but that doesn't work for me.

Nobody gets out of here alive, so if you've just heard you're going to die, whether next week or in 20 or 50 years, what the heck did you think was going to happen instead?

No matter the intelligence or wit or whatever of anyone -- poet or author or carpenter or carpet salesman (or even gubmint employee) -- if they look at dying as anything less than living, and if they believe the "goodness of life" evaporates upon learning death by illness is potentially imminent (even though being whacked by a bus this afternoon is always a possibility if you're not looking)... that just makes me sad.

Sad because they just didn't get it (life, that is).

People choose to let goodness slip away.

And life isn't about what's left, but what is.

Just my opinion. YMMV.

CP, when I went to that wiki link, it just gave me a page indicating there was nothing writyten about her. (And is she related to Sean O'Faolin?)

Thinking of food, the potato situation in the 19th century is a reminder that potatoes, corn, and to a lesser extent new-world beans and squash revolutionized European peasant eating habits, just as sweet potatoes changed New Guinea and bananas did tropical America.

Unless we live on hamburgers and cola (or ramen noodles for impoverished students) it's hard to imagine the monotony of past diets. I bet that today's Irish farmers are growing lots of veggies.

LiT, *indeed.*

yellojkt, some say that if you're drinking Guinness, you're practically eating anyway.

Encouraging news on the Fantasy Film (Don't call us "dorks." To our faces, anyway.) front:
Guillermo del Toro has been hired by Peter Jackson and New Line Cinema to direct "The Hobbit" and a sequel.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/24/AR2008042404143.html

bc

Foy martooni: http://www.adashofpanache.com/images/Photos/OtherParties/RedHattersGroup1.JPG

A little Scary, no.

How can there be a sequel to The Hobbit? Wasn't that the Lord of the Rings?

YJ- Maybe you're right about Irish cuisine. Not much of a place for it around here, but I still resent calling a French Dip an Irish Dip. It's like lipstick on the proverbial pig.

bc, that news was posted here on the Achenblog on Feb 5

http://blog.washingtonpost.com/achenblog/2008/02/the_road_to_super_tuesday.html

bc, I've been to both. To my sense and sensibilities, Nanny O'Brien is like a dive bar, and Ireland's FP is like a chain bar/restaurant.

If you want the book the movie "Roan..." was based on: The Secret of Ron Mor Skerry, by Rosalie K. Fry. Only in the book I believe it's Scottish folklore.

There is no authentic sequel to "The Hobbit" (other than the Ring trilogy), so I wonder what the sequal could be: "The Hobbit vs. Alien vs. Predator"? "The Hobbit Meets Freddie"? "Son of Hobbit"?

Perhaps a musical: "Hobbit!" (music and lyrics by Andrew Lloyd Weber), or perhaps a 60s-style musical review featuring a nude cast: "O Hobbit!"

A Western: "The Hobbit Moves to Lonesome Dove and Becomes a Texas Ranger"? "The Magnificent Hobbits"? (Seven Hobbits ride into a dusty Mexican town and shoot Eli Wallach; the Robert Vaughan Hobbit recovers his nerves just in time to die tragically. Only two Hobbits leave town, while the third surviving Hobbit, a Hungarian tennis player, stays behind to molest an underage Mexican girl.)

Maybe Scorses will produce it: "Hobbit Taxi Driver" (tagline: "You lookin' at me, furryfoot?")

A 60s/70s sex comedy: "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice and Bilbo."

A 50s TV cowboy show: "Have Ring, Will Travel" (Tag line: "Wire Baggins, San Francisco.")

Film noir: "Farewell, My Precious."

A Ken Burns documentary: "Bury My Heart at Minas Tirith."

(Sorry. I get a little dangerous when I'm out in the sun too long.)

Originally, at least as I heard it, the Hobbit was to be a two parter. Then they decided to do The Hobbit as one movie and a sequel. The sequel is to be Bilbo's life between the end of the Hobbit and the start LOR.

Kind of a Hobbit "On Golden Pond," then. Interesting.

SCC:LOR=>LOTR.

Oh yeah, and I got my snark mojo back on. I posted a YouTube link to a video of The Waifs playing a song called 'Pony' on the Celebritology Blog. For those of you who don't follow the CB, there is ban on the word Pony over there. Don't ask, long story.

If they could get Samual L. Jackson to do it, it could be "Hobbit-swallowing Snakes on a Plane."

Didn't the Tolkien heirs have a falling-out with the movie people?

Tolkien did leave quite a lot of writings that were edited by others, but it would seem futile to replicate the apocalyptic struggles of the "Ring" movies. Maybe del Toro could do some smaller-scale moviemaking.

How about "Mr. and Mrs. Baggins"? Bilbo and his Hobbit wife are a pair of international assassins, only neither one knows what the other spouse's true job is. They each get hired to assassinate the other. Let's see, who could we get to play the two leads...

Re: Guinness. I'm not fond of beers you need a knife and fork for.

>(Sorry. I get a little dangerous when I'm out in the sun too long.)

Indeed. The yellow face, it burns.

I recall in the LOTR Movie there was mention of a dragon attack on Hobbitton in the interval.

Maybe Guillermo del Toro could hire Benicio del Toro, and they could make "The Usual Hobbits." Kevin Spacey has a dual role as Frodo Soze, a mysterious...

yello, the Black and Tan and the Half and Half were invented for folks like you. However, I'm convinced if you like beer, and you drink enough of it, it grows you. I used to drink it only occasional, now all the time.

The Hobbit sequels with Bilbo as the hero need to follow a plotline of unassuming hero passing unscathed through all sorts of wild goings-on. Sounds like del Toro needs some Chinese martial arts advisors, ninjas, and a bunch of dragons. Maybe a sea battle, too?

Boodle hogging leads to automatic SCC Lifetime Membership.

grows on you

You mean, "Crouching Hobbits, Hidden Dragons," Dave?

Mudge, Nuala's da was NOT Sean O'F; her da wasTomas O'Faolain, whose pen name was "Terrence O'Sullivan"

Martooni, she is a braggadocio figure of woman. Read something of her life; try memoir _Are you Somebody_, as a feminine-voiced Angie's ashes...very sad she is dying; love reading her; would tremble, however, with the difficulties should she be friend or family. Apparently, she is issuing apologies to people she has wronged, which reminds me somewhat of Lee Atwater's last weeks.

As for Nanny O'Brien's, such good Irish sessions music.....real deal, actually, and more pub-like than most in terms of the great good music played in the cubby.

Off to errands of the day;

I would like the sequel to be The Xaviera Hollander Story. Only you would have to spell his name with D's instead.

I don't know nothin' 'bout drinkin' at no Irish pubs. I've only been to that other Gaelic place, what's it called? Oh, yeah: Scotland. Don't eat the pub food. If you don't like organ meat and other offal, avoid the food entirely, unless it is non-Scottish. I had excellent kebabs in Stirling. But I know that I love that Irish accent. And the music.

All of you, run right out and buy something by Celtic Thunder. I still owe Jesse Winch, for putting up with my long-abandoned efforts to learn to play bodhrán.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celtic_Thunder

I'm feeling all incensed at the aspersions cast on Irish cuisine. I think, yello and others, if you do a little research instead of just saying something cause it sounds right to you, you will find that the Irish are among the leaders in Europe on fine cuisine sourced locally; the dairy, seafood, beef, and vegetables, not tomention the long tradition (stemming from trade with France and Spain for hundreds of years) of exquisite baked goods, plus current wealth and worker-mobility under the EU, have produced some of the best and most innovative chefs and fine-dining establishments anywhere.

If you think of all Irish food as pub food (and even then, I'd rather eat a smoked-salmon sandwich in a Dublin pub than anywhere else on earth) then you are being unnecessarily narrow in your compass.

And the whiskey is good, too.

That is all.

In the spirit of boodle-hogging, I suggest that Bilbo should blithely traverse a landscape stuffed with hidden dragons that pop up (usually) just when he's trying to soak his sore feet. Maybe it would turn out that they're attracted to the scent of epsom salts.

Ah, The Secret of Roan Inish, one of my all-time favorite movies.

One of many great lines:

"It's a madness that runs in the family!"

'Mudge,
Could you provide the requisite sea battle for the Hobbit movie?

Yoki,
If I remember correctly, a superabundance of Irish milk led to the relatively recent development of a thriving Irish cheese industry.

Come to think of it, surfing has become a big Irish sport. If Tolkien were around, I think he'd have some of his Middle Earth folk doing likewise.

Bilbo Daggins. I don't get it...oh wait, never mind.

What about British food. Can I still pick on British food? And Scottish? Anyone who likes to eat oatmeal with milk and smoked herring in the same dish is a crazy person as far as I'm concerned. And don't get me started on puddings. Really. They're really quite evil. And scabby.

You folks all need a good Irish tune cootie, one of my favorites (though admittedly sung by non-Irishers). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIHTSxOBj-w

I always thought the British got the rep for bad cuisine because of all the GIs stationed there in the run up to D-Day. Rationing you know...But then I'm known for thinking some pretty strange thoughts.

Oh, sure, Dave. I think I'd base it on the sea battle known as "The Glorious First of June" always a golden oldie and nonpareil. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glorious_First_of_June

You know, with rationing they had to make do with what ever was available, and was usually rubbish, the bottom of the barrel so speak. And so when the war was over all them returning GIs telling war stories, and one common denominator in all of them: British food, bleh, worst rubbish I ever et in my life.

Opening number for Bilbo Baggins: Superstar, or, There and Back again

Guests uninvited with outlandish stories
Dori and Nori both brothers of Ori's
Thorin with the tales of adventures he brings
These are a few of my least favorite things

Oin and Gloin and can't forget Fili
Dwalin and Balin and another dwarf Kili
Bombur sits down and of dragons he sings
These are a few of my least favorite things

When such strangers
Talk of travels
And I'm feeling sad
I tend to my garden on Hobbiton Hill
And then I don't feel so bad

Apparently, all the loonies are on the CBlog. They are so wrapped up in their dueling Lost analysis, or whatever, that they are completely ignoring me. So not nice. It's a madness I tell ya. Oh, well, I'll just have to repost it on Monday.

Well, off to movie nite. I'll be thinking of you LostInThought. I'll even hoist Guinness or two for ya.

Tchau.

I didn't know Marty Balin was a Hobbit, SoC. Maybe that's why Grace Slick never slept with him. (I'm listening to "Miracles" as we speak.)

CP... I didn't mean to come across so harsh about Nuala. Twas just that quote rubbed me wrongly -- I have a predisposition to tread water in the deep end of the depression pool, but the one thing that keeps me afloat is "goodness". For her to say it goes away at the news of the inevitable (death) just didn't agree with me.

So to show my love for all things Irish, Scottish and remotely Celtic (and since it's dangerous to fax high test Irish whiskey), here's a free MP3 of a tune I recorded in the pre-Bean days: http://www.weefolkoutfitters.com/toons/loch_lommond.mp3

It's an acoustic instrumental ditty inspired by the dark waters and golden grasses of Loch Lommond, a largish puddle located just outside the Scottish town of Paisley (or was that Glasgow?). In any case, it's a jumpy little toon featuring yours truly on guitar without accompaniment, overdubs or additional tracks of any sort (in other words, just pure old martooni doing his thing).

That said, I should warn you that the default volume for it is a little on the loud side (just in case you're tooning in from work). Also, the scratchy sound (which turned out quite cool, btw) is due to me forgetting to bring a guitar pick to the studio that day and had to resort to using a quarter.

Peace out (again). :-)

Thanks omni. Enjoy. Definitely, make it two for me.

I've been to Ireland, though not in a long time. I recall the offerings as significantly less than stellar (some pork product at every meal, yet you never see a pig...just sheep). I managed to put on a few pounds anyway because they had such good chocolate (who knew?) and beer (a work for Arth).

Martooni - what a wonderful piece of music! Thanks for sharing it. Made my day.

Before I backBoodle, a few belated pics...

http://www.monkeyview.net/id/2480/april08bph/

:-)

Thanks, Martooni. It had been too long since we'd heard your music.

Marty Balin.. very small guy. I met him between sets one time at The Bayou.

Remember The Bayou? Wisconsin and K Street, under the Whitehurst Freeway?

You're very welcome, Aloha.

You should see what I can do with a ukelele, grass skirt and coconut brassiere.

Or maybe not.

That's probably illegal in most states, if not downright scary

Of course, there's always the "Life of Balbo," where Balbo Proudfoot gets mistaken for Bilbo and unexpectedly starts a Shire uprising. Don't forget the rousing closing number, "Always Look on the Bright Side of Hobbiton."

Great music, martooni.

omni, last time that I had food in England, it was pretty good -- of course, it was Caribbean ethnic food. The British themselves, they cook a mean roast. I was dining at Cambridge, on food prepared for an international meeting. They might have been on their best cuisine. On my previous trip with the ScienceSpouse and no international colleagues, back in 1989, we ate in pubs and restaurants and B&B's. The beer was excellent. Fish and chips were good. Avoid mushy peas. Never eat any interpretation of ethnic food that is not prepared by someone with a non-British accent. It takes away the joy of life. The world empties of happiness. You could do away with yourself and feel a warm tingle of anticipation at the prospect. It's that warm tingle that keeps you going until your tongue recovers from the gustatory sprain and forgets its malaise. Forgetfulness leads to more British interpretations of ethnic cuisine. It's an awful cycle.

SCC: I missed my period on that last post.

But I'm not naming the father.

Let's just say I won't be surprised by a child with a blue bottom and a supernatural vocabulary of seaworthy cuss words.

SonofCarl- Your song made me laugh aloud! My students looked up as I snorted and then I had to fake a cough. Thanks!

Leonard Nimoy -- in 60s sartorial polyester splendor -- sings of Bilbo:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=it13YNccf5w&feature=related

Martooni -- you got her right; difficult person. Still, she writes beautifully.

I echo Yoki -- Slow Food in Eire leads, especially as regards speed to table and the lushness of good milk products.

When we first moved here, in West Hyattsville was Cis's Foremost Deli and Pub...twas a real pub, and Cis was Cecily-Sissy as called by her brothers. I do not know if bc made it deep into Hyattsville and knew of it.

CPDots, wee pixy gels then, would have milky tea with scones whilst I and other adults could have a few modest selections, including fine grill cheese sandwich made with clabber cheese. I learned to like Rolling Rock in pony bottles there....each table had a few packs of cards for solitaire and hearts or rummy....

I was on a road trip one time and it was getting late. I was searching for one of those blue signs that tells you where a motel is when I saw one. There was a Comfort Inn, a Motel 6, and Bilbo's Motel. I had to check out Bilbo's because, well, you know, how could I pass it up? The other places were right off the interstate, but Bilbo's was about 10 miles off of it. I took the ride and found the place and there was nothing special. I think it was a former Scottish Inn, a pretty clean place. Next morning when I was checking out, I asked the desk lady what was the significance of the name? She said she didn't know, that her folks had bought the place with that name. I still want to know if there be hobbits around here. Perhaps they're real estate moguls, making fortunes on hotels.

Everyday is tree day, but today is an extra-special tree day.

Some have already seen my new "Sonnets from the Portuguese water-dog" in honor.

....
How do I love trees? Let me count the ways.
I love trees to the depth and breadth and height
My nose can reach, when feeling my love's plight
For the ends of Jean and new-smelt Grace.
I love trees in the devils of hot dog-days
Close shade given to whom the sun ignites
I love trees freely, as curs strive for bites;
I love trees purely as they shield from rays
I love trees with the passion put to use
In my mischiefs, or with wagged stick's chase
I love thee with a love that dreams its clues
Through my prose faint,--I love thee with the breath,
Sniffs, whizzes, all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love trees better after death.

Woof!

Nanny O'Brien's sessions....Mudge -- better tune cootie than Peter, Paul, and Mary. Dear folkies yes, but, dearie, not Gaelic by a hair.
Only 31 secs.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6FAuOydIDU

Dark, lively, with someone playing bones quite nicely. I'll bet that I know at least one person playing in the set, however, 'tis very dark.

---
Mudge, here was Philly's irish fiddler gem: Eugene O'Donnell, the "slow air" master.....my father would weep when he heard Gene play.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vfi1gIbJF9g

CPBroy2, in/out of Iraq and Affie, ordered us to play this at his funeral. We, gladly, have not had to honor this order.

For something completely different -----

I just figured out that 40 years ago (!) come Monday I graduated from undergraduate school at the University of Michigan. Forty (expletive) years, for cryin' out loud! Four-zero.

Makes one sit down and think, ya know?

There. Now I feel better.

Have a great weekend, all.

Sonnet III from the Portuguese Water Dog:

Unlike are we, unlike, O Kingly Oak!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise
On one another, as I akimbo soak
Thy roots in passing. Thou do cast thy cloak
As canopy for social pageantries,
Make homes for a hundred brighter eyes
Than tears even can make mine, the winds thee stroke
In titianic flame. What hast thou to do
With swaying from the heaven's mights to me,
A poor, tired, wandering mongrel, trotting through
The dark, then leaning up a cypress tree?
Heavens rest on thine head,--on mine, the dew,--
And I must dig and roll in your rich debris.

As the ScienceGrandpa wrote when he sent me this link: huh!!

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/24273418/?GT1=43001

Well done, Wilbrodog!

Gomer, thanks. Oh, the hobbits are well established in the hotel industry. The Hiltons were the Hilltops before they changed their name and the Shiretown brand began in Hobbiton.

ftb, think of it this way. You've still got 6 more years before your fiftieth high school reunion.

Just having finished listening to the fifth Patrick O'Brian novel, I couldn't help but read Yoki's 2:56 post in the mental voice of a (female) Doctor Maturin. I could just see the flaming red hairs bristling up on the back of her neck, and her face crimson with passion.

Whew, I still don't have the nerve to crawl out from under my desk and go home.

Also, I found this gem of a Jane Austen poem to share with you. It fits my feelings about church exactly.

Happy the Lab'dor

Happy the lab'dor in his Sunday clothes!
In service vest, smart collar, well-wash'd toes,
And leash upon his neck, to church he goes;
As oft, with conscious pride, he upward throws
A glance upon burgeoning diaper woes
That, stuck in mother's arm, regales his nose,
He envies not the gayest poodle beaux.
In church he takes his seat among the rows,
Pays by his pants the reverence he owes,
Likes best the prayers whose meaning least he knows,
Lists to the sermon in a softening doze,
And rouses joyous at the welcome close.

Jane Austen

http://classiclit.about.com/od/austenjane/a/aa_happylabrer.htm

Thanks for the reminder, SoC. Won't go to that one, either.

Martooni, you have no idea how much I appreciated that guitar piece.

Before I forget, Joel: Happy Food Day.

Pant, pant, pant, running for the bus...have good weekend...more 2nite...

Being a long-haired leaping gnome, I suppose I'm somewhat of an authority on Wee Folk, including Hobbits.

I don't normally associate with Hobbits (rather, they don't normally associate with me, but that's a long story and nobody really knows for sure what happened to the sheep that night).

Anyway, Hobbits are everywhere, but they're good at hiding. In fact, they're probably the most adept of the "Wee" when it comes to hiding themselves from Big People who come stomping around. Big People have a tendency to not look at what they might be stomping on, and generally make a huge mess of everything.

I knew the Bagginses through a friend of a friend of a sprite (who was usually liquored up, so couldn't be trusted). But according to rumour, Bilbo was, as they say in more cosmopolitan circles, an "alternative lifestyle" Hobbit. He preferred red sequined hot pants to sensible brown trousers and was one of the few Hobbits ever known to wear shoes (though he salvaged his family's reputation by never wearing shoes and pants at the same time).

His nephew Frodo was of a similar bent, but a wee bit more flamboyant. He didn't just *like* shoes -- he was infatuated with them. He'd have shoe parties and invite all of his friends over to try on the latest styles from Gondor. They would parade up and down Bag End with their pumps and high heels into the wee hours of the night, singing Gloria Gaynor songs as they attempted to capture squirrels and other small mammals for nefarious purposes.

Now Sam Gamgee was the sensible one of the bunch and did his best to keep Frodo out of trouble. He was the one who'd say "Mr. Frodo, you don't wants to be running about with women's panties on yer head, with or without that magical ring! Why you'll make me old Gaffer die of embarrassment fer not gettin' out them stains!"

But as hard as Sam tried to keep Frodo on the "straight" and narrow, he'd often find him with Meriadoc Brandybuck (a.k.a. "Randybuck") down at the Blue Dragon running up a huge bar tab and picking fights with gnomes and fairy queens.

{* story to continue in about 30 minutes... Little Bean is demanding to go for a bike ride and she's the boss of me *}

Oh, cool, looks like Joel has an Outlook article this weekend and a chat on Monday. Something to look forward to.

{* back from keeping Bean from falling off her bike into the path of oncoming traffic *}

So Frodo and Meriadoc liked to raise a little Mordor down at the Blue Dragon and Sam was the poor bugger in charge of keeping them out of jail.

Well one night, Frodo and his sidekick had a little too much beer and decided it would be a good idea to dangle Sam by his feet from the Brandywine Bridge. Sam, of course, was not very happy about this and protested several times, even going so far as to bite off one of Frodo's fingers. (Sam would later blame the missing digit on Gollum, and Frodo, being drunk out of his skull that night, had no grounds to disagree)

So they dangled Sam over the side of the bridge and he yelled and hollered and swore and called Frodo and Merri very bad names and even brought their mothers' fidelity and morality into question. In other words, he was one very p!ssed off Hobbit.

Anyway, Merri farted (or "tooted", in Hobbit lingo), which made Frodo laugh and lose his grip on Sam's ankles. Next thing you know, Frodo and Merri are giggling their heads off on the bridge as Sam (knocked unconscious by landing head first on a boulder) floated downstream looking like a corpse.

Gollum... who I mentioned earlier... happened to like corpsy-looking things and was hanging out by the riverside several miles downstream when he spotted Sam's body bobbing amongst the flotsam and jetsam.

"What issss it, my preciousssss?"

"Preciousss?"

"PRECIOUSSSS??!!!"

"Dammit! That sneaky hobbit Bilbo stole my preciousss *years* ago! And what does he do with it? Rule the world? Noooo... He gives it to his sexually confused nephew so he can go prancing around Hobbiton in shiny red pumps singing "It's Raining Men"! And why do I keep talking to a sssstupid ring I don't have anymore?"

{* more to come in a little while -- feel free to jump in and add to the story, btw -- I need more beer and lung poison *}

Okay...

So Gollum drags Sam's lifeless body from the river and pokes it with a stick a few times, then whacks it with a sledge hammer he just happened to have laying around.

"OW! What the?"

Whack!

"HEY! What the?"

Whack!

Then Sam wised up (hahahaha... Samwise! A LOTR insider joke!) and played dead.

Gollum was thinking "hmmmm.... this could be lunch for a whole week!" when Sam quit playing dead and grabbed the sledge hammer.

"Take *that* you piece-of-scum-that's-been-preserved-for-centuries-by-a-magical-ring-of-evil!"

Gollum was smart and immediately played dead -- unlike Sam, who needed to get whacked in the head five times before figuring out he wouldn't get whacked anymore if he'd just quit complaining.

Sam wasn't feeling so well, having been whacked several times with a sledge hammer, not to mention his head-first dive onto a boulder from a bridge. The near drowning didn't help his attitude much either, and it was all he could do to not mumble "I'll get you Frodo... I'll get you Meriadoc... I'll EAT YOUR SPLEENS!".

But he pulled himself together and gave it the old Princeton try.

"Okay... I've got an ugly bald monster at my feet doing a very bad impression of being dead. My 'friends' dumped me off the side of a bridge. And now I have to pee."

So Sam whacked Gollum over the head one more time (for good measure) and headed over to the trees lining the river bank to take care of business.

"Ah........"

"HEY!"

"Uh oh..."

"WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Sam looked around frantically to find the source of umbrage, but saw nothing but trees. Trees waving their limbs in a menacing manner. Trees uprooting themselves and crushing the life out of everything in their paths.

"Sorry, but I needed to pee," he said.

"Very badly," he added.

"THAT WAS MY FOOT, YOU FOOL!"

Sam had discovered the Ents. He also discovered that they don't appreciate being peed on.

What will happen to Sam? Will Frodo and Meriadoc wake from their drunken stupor to realize they dumped their friend off the bridge? Will Gollum ever get his precious back or will he spend the rest of his days mumbling to himself about being "cheated" and being "oppressed" and wishing he was at Guantanomo Bay instead of a riverside in The Shire with a now "relieved" Hobbit standing over him with a bunch of angry Trees behind him.

Stay tuned :-)

Busy day today - 'nother all day meeting. Might be making a temporary lateral career shift soon. And then there is the remodeling project that just keeps on going. Who knew molding was such a time-consuming process? Of course, when you have to cut most of the pieces two or three times until they fit, it does do massive damage to the schedule.

Anyway, I have often thought that affluence is very isolating. Money, and the desire for the same, leads people to move away from their families, and hence lose that traditional support. Financial innovations like insurance takes the place of community. The Amish have no insurance, they count on the community. (I checked, but sadly my community is interested in underwriting neither my car nor my house.)

I guess you could say that money takes the place of traditional relationships. And this is a trade-off most are willing to take.

I certainly did when I decided to move thousands of miles from anyone I knew to take a promising job. Heck, I coulda just worked at the corner store. Or worse, Boeing. But no, I moved out here.

So that I could go to all day meetings.

I just had to pass this link on:

http://www.utterpants.co.uk/parody/mplotr/mpfotr.htm

If you like Monty Python styled Tolkien parodies, click that link and bookmark it.

Ents don't like being peed on? How do you umm, you know, recognize an Ent before you pee on one?

I ask purely out of theoretical curiosity, of course. Keep tolkien', Martooni.

I was lucky enough to catch the 1951 Sci fi classic, The Day the Earth Stood Still last night on of all the vision tv, which usually carries things spiritual (so its not a channel I watch a lot). I really really enjoyed it,

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0043456/

but through it all I kept saying so that's where 'Klaatu' got the name from and was there ever a baseball diamond on the Mall?

I like reading all your ideas for sequels, but I certainly don't want to make a hobbit of it.

BTW, to answer Mudge's question, I think the sequel was going to be called simply, "Hobbit", after the Sinclair Lewis novel about a middle-aged hobbit who finds himself in an lifestyle rut.

However, I like Tooni's version far better.

OK, I'll say it.

I like having a little spending money, darn it!

When I was wee, we had nothing. Literally nothing. My Mum and Dad worked really hard to keep us in the style to which we were accustomed.

When #1 and #2 were wee, Himself and I managed to hold onto most of what we had inherited (0x0=0) and worked really hard to build on that solid foundation and we kept everybody in shoes and food and even a field trip with the school every now and then.

By the time the weans were teenagers,we had managed to hold onto most of it.

Since they have grown a bit, and left Himself and me free to work *really hard* without feeling torn or guilty, our investment in our family and our education and our work has paid off. We now pay all our bills on time, and have a nice house in a nice neighbourhood, and last November took the first vacation ever, alone together, that did not involve a relative lending us a place to stay.

I also like having flattering clothing and being able to buy two paperbacks at the same time, retail, if I so wish. I've worked all my life to get where I am, and I haven't sacrificed any family-feeling or compassion to get there.

So affluence is not an ill, so far as I can determine, if it doesn't involve selling my soul.

I like having money in my wallet and I don't feel one bit guilty (ah, but if I didn't, why would I be betraying myself with this rant?!) that I've somehow sold out or given up my sense of community to get here.

Good evening, folks. It is that slow person that all of you are familiar with. I'm in early tonight. Did not have to attend any meetings. I went to visit one of the kids I used to work with. He was not feeling too good. I think he has a stomach virus. Just getting back in, and getting ready to hug my bed.

Have a wonderful weekend all. Just wanted to check in and say good night, boodle. Sweet dreams.

What Yoki points out in her lovely "rant" is that affluence = choice.

The choices you make determine whether you're isolated or not.

G'night Cassandra. Sweet dreams to you, too.

Yoki, somehow I doubt anything under the sun could incite you to sell your soul.

Working long hours and taking care of family leaves very little time to know the community, which is kind of what RD was driving at.

When you move far from the community you grew up in, you must somehow navigate the skills of learning a new community as an adult.

That often requires volunteering, finding a church, or other activity that it can be difficult to find time for, or somehow making friends who have an extensive network they're glad to introduce you to.

Skills already in place help considerably in this process. If you lack the skills, integration is slow and may never be complete.

In a way, finding a way to belong may be easier for those who have spent their childhood as gyspies than those who grew up in the same neighborhood all their lives.

So, if the quest of affluence takes you far from your roots, (as it has done for millions) then you need to build new ones, or live without them.

I think many opt to live without full roots, out of loyalty to their old community, or because they are simply overwhelmed by the constant demands of life and do not care to shop themselves around strangers in their spare time to try and create communities, when a few phone calls to old friends and family is more satisfying.

The first full year I was on my own, my taxable income was $6200 and I ended up owning $80 in federal income tax. That just about killed me; I had to save up for three months to have that money.

After I was married, I made the choice to continue working, so that I could maintain my financial independence. That served me well; when my husband and I divorced, I wasn't destitute. I was able to buy a house (in poor repair, but still) and keep my kids housed, fed, and clothed. I also was able to save my portion of their college educations.

My family has always been important to me. We may be somewhat scattered and we may not talk every week, but we are there when we're needed.

I'm not buddy-buddy with my neighbors, although we are cordial when we meet. My immediate community is my church. Recently the son of one of my good friends commented to his parents that he wished he and his wife had the close friendships that we have in our Sunday School class. Well, we have nurtured those relationships for over 25 years; of course they are good!

All this is to say that I agree with Yoki; affluence is not the proximate cause for isolation, unless you let it be.

I'm set to board a plane to return to summer in 30-40 minutes. Not a second too soon.
Yoki, you have to admit the food in the pub chain is mediocre, at best. At least in England and in Lothian (I haven't been in Ireland). On the other hand some independant pubs have pretty good stuff. I had a ploughman's lunch in Cheddar that was quite remarkable. And an apple, raisin and blue cheese salad on watercress in Bristol was pretty darn good too. Asking for "their best bitter" in most pub brings an interesting experience as well. Getting Indian food is usually a much better bet than trying a franchise of a pub chain.
This message is sponsored by the Maple Leaf Lounge of Winnipeg airport. Hey there are ROWS of seats right outside their door, they are obviously offering their signal to the discriminating customer.

Yoki - I agree enthusiastically that being affluent doesn't mean you have sold your soul. This is a nasty myth. I am reasonably affluent because I made good choices in my life, was blessed with a reasonable brain, and was lucky enough to be fascinated by a field that happened to pay well.

The simple truth is, that when you are affluent you do not *need* the community as much. You don't have to rely on the kindness of friends and family.

Of course, another way of looking at this is that an affluent person who works hard to maintain contacts with his or her community does so out of choice (as TBG so wisely points out) and not out of necessity.

Oh that part is true. I think poverty can also be even more isolating. How can you go to church if you can't afford the extra bit of gas?

However, the choices you must make to support affluence can be isolating.

I've spoken to women who developed debilating illnesses and they said a point came where they only lived to work because that wiped out their energy for everything else. Now, we're not talking 60 hour weeks. We're talking about making the 9-5 job, to keep benefits and food on the table. Once they hit that point, their work quickly suffered as well.

On the other side, I talked once to a marketing manager making 6 digits a year, and he was working 70 hour weeks and wanting to have more time with his 4 children, and he was clearly clinically depressed and trying to balance his lifestyle and live according to his faith as well. Yet, the job he had basically required him to put in that much hours (and he said not all of it was even productive, a lot of "being there and looking good") and he would have to leave that job to cut back on his work hours.

He was from a large and poor family, and I understood why he had just worked so hard to get where he was and then realized suddenly that he hadn't stopped to plant seeds of happiness.

So yes, working just to maintain a job and feeling limited in options can be very isolating. There's a reason why they call some high-paying jobs "golden handicuffs".

Yes, and yes, and holy shrieking denizen!

Speaking of happiness, I pointed out 2 bluebirds of happiness to the gnome this afternoon.

The gnome didn't see 'em at first and then it was gawking and "golly they look like titchy sparrow-shaped bluejays, with one yellow breast on the male."

Then the gnome finally looked the birds up and realized they were eastern bluebirds, but the description sounded too big, so a little double-checking to confirm.

Ayup. Bluebirds, although they're "5 inches" in much the same way as Frostbitten explained 3 inches is 6 inches yesterday. A city sparrow could beat these birds up, no problem.

And now the bluebirds have delivered more happiness for me-- a blizzard, which is french for "snow with a lot of wind"!

Now I can howl all night and have it blamed on the wind. Life is good.

wilbrod... what is the air speed and cargo capacity of a city sparrow? Can one handle a coconut? Or do two of them have to synchronise their efforts and carry one between them?

time for Battlestar Galactica now... just watched a very strange Dr. Who... more on the misadventures of ambiguously gay Hobbits later ;-)

Just got home from "town" a 90 minute drive that should have taken t45 but we are in the midst of the blizzard Wilbrodog is enjoying. Four inches of ice accumulated just to our south and 4-5" of snow here already.

Backboodled enough to hear Martooni's tune. Loved it.

Time to shovel the walk by porch light then crawl into bed and whimper about this endless winter. Fondue.

Wishing some of the 72F temps we've got here to frosti. Not to brag, but it's going to be so nice to sleep tonight with the windows open.

Back to Battlestar... commercial break over.

Yo, Wilbrodog,

Yoki once saw a Mountain Bluebird fly by the windshield. We barked our fool heads off, but she just gasped. Took her breath away. Excellent for us! Whilst she was transported by delight, we rumpussed. Hehe.

A city sparrow can handle an acorn, or nearly 1/4 slice of a toast, or 1 to 2 oz of turkey, if determined enough.

Once when Wilbrodog was a puppy, he tried to mug some sparrow right after Thanksgiving for some turkey.

He was not happy when I pried his prize out of his mouth and gave it back to the local gang of twerpy hooligans.

Sorry, folks.

Neither of my Bernese-breed friends are sufficiently literate to have posted that last. It was I, Broc (!), who felicitously employed human language to encapsulate experience efficiently (and, apparently, alliteratively). I think I may be a poet or a professor. Because I Am A Collie.

I shall let it be, if you do.

I remain, yours etc. etc.,

Your humble servant,

Broc

Broc... I hear ya.

The Big Ones recently watched the movie Babe and everyone in the G house thought it was funny that most of the animals called the farmer The Boss, but the beautiful cat called him The Boss' Husband.

I thought the movie was delightful, but talking dogs? Don't be silly.

Oh my goodness... she's at it again. Sorry folks.

G'night all.

For Wilbrodog - a bit of doggerel:
- - -

"The last shall be the first!" they said.
(It sounds like that to me.)
"Come on and join us on our epic march to victory!"

"No more shall little people be just margins that are used,
"To gain a very few votes while I watch others stand accused,
"Of being hypocritical (while I'm guilty of the same) ..."
A messy mix of truth and fiction, leaving no one free of blame.

I wish I could assume that candidates all speak with honor.
I'd like to think that leaders aren't just in it for the dollar.
But every day I'm struck with revelations of horror,
About the depths of mud in which they're quite prepared to waller!

I KNOW these folks began this long, insane, and crazy trip,
Meaning to begin to move us toward a better way.
But thus far mostly all I've seen [ed. 'I've curses on my lip!']
Is, "I promise I'll make it better, if you're with me on Election Day!"

I've looked, & sniffed, and pawed the very wide-spread ground,
Of all the things they've claimed to promise you, and them, and me.
It all sounds nice, but as I closely see what's going 'round,
I thinks it's all just one more way to piss upon the tree!

(Not that there's anything wrong with that!)

Madame,

If ever we chance to meet, I shall seize the opportunity to demonstrate to you how gentle-dogs behave toward those of an alternate persuasion, species-wise (please to ignore the mountainly cousins, whom I secretly in my deepest thoughts have christened "Clem" and "Em").

I should very much enjoy showing you the town, and, indeed, promenading as flaneurs do.

I remain, etc. etc.

Your humble servant,

Broc.

Flaneur is a good word, Broc.

A point of inquiry: would a con man that strolls around be called "a flin-flan artist?"

Collies rawk. Just look up my post from the other day about the Evil Chicken from Hell to see why.

(nothing against Wilbrodog or other breeds represented here, but I got a soft spot in my heart for Collies)

They not only herd, but listen. And they treat their human pups like gold. I so miss Penny. She ran off one winter to spare us from watching her die. I've finally forgiven her for that, but I really wish she'd stuck around for a good hugging before going off to doggie heaven.

Good dogs are like good spouses... hard to find and nearly impossible to replace.

No dogs in the Tooni house, but I got a good spouse (she's a keeper, I think, especially since she puts up with my shenanigans).

Before I officially "peace out" for the night, more twisted tales from Hobbiton will be posted in the morning. I'm thinking Sam Gamgee and Gollum are going to have an adventure together at a bar that features nekkid pixies. Or maybe not. We'll see. I just know the two of them are destined to get in trouble together.

btw... wilbrod... if a sparrow eats turkey, isn't that like borderline cannibalism? I'm thinking that would be like a human eating a chimpanzee. I've seen chimpanzees in person (Little Bean jumping on the couch came very close, but the zoo chimps were much more authentic) and have to say none of their parts said "eat me" or even "use me like parsley". Can't say the same for turkeys, though. I've never met a part of a turkey that didn't have a "yummy" label on it.

But back to chimps, the same goes for orangutans. They're just too much like us to be considered food.

Regarding orangutans... they'll kick your a$$ if you try to eat them. Very strong arms and more squirrelly than a... umm.. squirrel. Or a chipmunk, even. And they operate in packs. Gangs even. Saw a couple with red bandanas I'd rather not tangle with.

Beware simians sporting colors.

And long-winded long-haired leaping gnomes who should be in bed right now.

Peace out (again) and may you all find warm temps and swallows bearing coconuts laden with gold and precious gems at your windows tomorrow morning.

Flaneur *is* a good word.

The verb is even better.

I am so happy you are speaking of birdies. Out here in the west the mountain bluebirds cannot be ignored. Their contrast in the evergreens is striking.

But I still miss the cardinals and I don't see any mocking birds either...which I know we have discussed before.The sparrows here are smaller I think but just as hardy.

Finches are my favorite neighborhood bird. They are always together..male, with a bright stripe of red, and female...duller, in color only. They used to make nests on my front door wreath and freaked out people who came a'callin. It was fun to see the chicks but a big mess on my door in the end.

After an episode of surprising them when I opened the door and both flying into the house to my back picture window, I had had enough of the closeness. Feathers were everywhere and we were all in a panic. I delicately grabbed the frightened creatures and thrust them out the door. Then I removed the wreath...luckily the eggs hadn't been laid yet.

They now nest nearby. And visit everyday.

eidrib! I love a finch also.

Do you know the joke whose punchline is "Finch and Chimps!"?

If it helps, they're completely different orders of birds.

English house sparrows are in the passeriformes ("songbirds"-- hah, not well-tuned ones!), named after "passer"-- sparrow.
Turkeys are in the galliformes (after Gallus-- cockerel).

Taxonically, that's about as wide apart as men and mice, dogs and bunnies, etc.

So basically one is in the tweet order, the other is in the meat order.

Just because they all have feathers doesn't mean they are soul brothers.

You do know your birds, Wilbrod!

I don't know the joke, Yoki. What is it?

I'm watching the repeat of Dr. Who now and then it's Battlestar Galactica on on the DVR. So no spoilers.

Keep telling the story, 'tooni.

I'm waiting for the Nazgals, also known as the Pink Riders, to show up for the cabaret number.

Je ne flâne pas; Ne me caressez pas!
J'ai un chien travaillant.

(Beau! Eau! Beau! Eau!)

Yoki - I've tried, and tried, and tried yet again(!) to find a variation of that tired old joke which is even slightly clever. So far as I can determine, no such critter exists. -- Since (as far as I can tell) it will never be funny, I offer it here in a form that is blissfully brief:
- - -
Keeper finds two finches dead. Puts them in a sack. In the primate cage he finds two chimps dead. Puts them in the sack with the finches. Later puts the sack in the lion's cage at feeding time.

"Darn!," roars the lion. "Not finch and chimps again."

Frosty and Wilbord, you may wish to avert your eyes.

It has been sunny and cold the last few days, but every day there has been some small bit of snow. Even today, on the way home, with 3 cloud in a prairie blue sky, there were flakes of snow. Frosty and Wilbrod do NOT want to know this.

You know what? It actually IS kinda funny! I may post it again in a few hours for the late -night crew.

HaHaHAHAHAHOHOHeeHeeHEEHEE!

Haha, Bob S. Not a very good meal.

But Bob S., when the chimps are down, you gotta lion your cards. You can't just finch when you're in a high-snakes poocher game.

Okay, stop me before I have punarrhea again.

The SciFi channel is airing a Valtrex commercial and my son thinks they are wasting their money buying time during Dr. Who.

Sorry about your weather, dr. It has been chilly here but spring remains in the air and depending on the altitude the trees have burst into color or are on the verge.

Wilbrod, you are so smart!

I'm obviously very easily amused. Ir is both my strength and my tragedy. *Sigh*

You, too, Yoki. Always a treat to read your posts.

Yoki - You & me both!

Except that my jokes are tired. Of course they are! I'm exhausted!

Love to eidrib. So glad to see you when you pop in.

That french was supposed to be for me. How do you say "do not pet, I'm working?", or "Assistance dog" in French?

If I'm going to become a flâneur, I need to speak the language, right?

Laughter is the best medicine. I get many chuckles here...when I can understand the conversation. Night all!

Try this, Wilbrodog:

Pettez pas! Je travail. Je suis un chien d' assistance! (LOL! We don't really speak of the French since we've been in the Calgary-town! Though we have of respect for French speakers who sit themselves in the world.)

(Or you could just wear a fluorescent-green vest whilst working.)

By the way - For those of you who were hoping that a mere lack of acknowledgment of my poetic offering(s) might be sufficiently discouraging to result in a lessening or ["Please, please! In the name of all that is tasteful or even remotely witty, please!!"] possible cessation of my occasional offerings of crappy poesy, I'd say: "Naa, prob'ly not."

Sorry.

Thank you Bob S. I feel better now. Love.

Several times recently, there have been general comments/compliments flung toward the Achenboodle crowd, referencing appreciation for the wit & intelligence & kindness & coolness of the group.

I really like the fact that I KNOW the folks for whom those remarks were intended!

Thank you Bob S. I feel better now. Excellent!

I love poetry almost as much as I do prose. So send it along to dbioyoki@hotmail.com and we'll see. 'Mudge can tell you whether I'm hard or soft on reading the works of my peers.

Or, perhaps, as Henry James used to respond to those who sent him monographs:

"Thank you for sending me your book. I shall lose no time in reading your manuscript."

yellojkt... Nazguls would probably liven up the story line a bit, but I was thinking something involving Sam, Gollum, and Tom Bombadill at this point in the story. For some reason, Tom reminds me of Mudge, so this could be fun (or I may have to move and leave no forwarding address). I just need to find some blue paint and see what I can get away with.

In any case, I'm thinking that Sam will grudgingly take Gollum on as a partner. I'm also thinking that he'll find Gollum's running about the Barrows picking the locks of each one and letting all the Wights loose a bit disconcerting.

In fact, I think he'll summon all of his drunken friends and put sharp implements in their hands so they might slay the Wights and make old Tom Bombadill proud (not to mention his hottie wife).

(note to RD: she has red hair and attitude)

In the meantime, I'm off to bed. Too guanoed to party....

I chuckled at the finches and chimps joke.

It's supposed to be 70 degrees here tomorrow - no snow in sight. I say this to encourage those of you who are still getting snow. Then rain and cooler Sunday night and next week. People were giddy with delight today.

I liked the poem for Wilbrodog... was it modelled after a poem (I can't seem to recognize it, but it feels a little kiplingish)? Well put, indeed.

However political verse can take a turn for the worse if overtly encouraged ;).

I don't really want to open up the boodle and read a sonnet to Karl Rove.

There once was a dog from Nantuckett,
Who discovered a gnome in a bucket,
He wiggled his ears
And waggled his rear
Before he tried to f...

fffff...

ffffff...

Dangit!

I'm being oppressed here. Oppressed, I say!

My poetic license has been slapped with restrictions! And a late fee!

I blame Richard Cheney and his cohorts Tom and Harry.

I shall now storm off to the living room, where I plan to exude and emit and otherwise ooze umbrage for this transgression against my personal freedom to say fff... fff... fff...

{* making an "oppressed" sign to wear tomorrow... will make one for you for free plus $995 shipping, Visa and Mastercard accepted (gas costs money, y'know) *}

Well, 'toon ya weren't all THAT guanoed, apparently... :-)

The songbirds are particularly chirpy this morning. I like it.

Joel's on FIRE this weekend! Complete with an intersting use of the past tense... ;-)

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/25/AR2008042503098.html?hpid=opinionsbox1

I'm issuing a Front Page Alert right now, particularly because there's an A-blog link at the end of the article.

In my life I've wandered from food bank assistance to working two jobs to being deep in debt and then into a position almost tailor-made for me, where hard work more than covers the basics and allows for the occasional bit of fun. Still not sure what "affluence" would be.

*particularly-chirpy-in-solidarity-with-the-birds-and-aiming-for-something-resembling-an-affluent-weekend Grover waves*

:-)

Something for you doggy aficionados:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/04/25/AR2008042503832.html?hpid=topnews

Good article Joel, still slightly disturbed by the David Frum quote though. My nation has produced many great individuals - and then there is David Frum.

Nice to see the place went to the dogs last night (and cat).

Off to drink more coffee.

Still sunny and nice here but possible snow flurries early next week.

I put a comment in the article, but another way to define the job is by what it isn't. Here is George Bush saying what he is not:

http://harpers.org/archive/2004/05/0080018

As of January, he will be able to say "I'm not President."

My fault dmd, the weather followed me home.
I don't know how much a house finch can carry but they sure can move. I've seen one of the little guy trying to escape a juvenile peregrine falcon. It started to fly through the frames of bicycles tied to the bicycles racks around the building. The falcon was capable to follow, with some difficulty; but oh boy, these things can fly too. So the finch then started flying through the wheels. Game, set and play. The falcon had to give up. The peregine eat mostly pigeons in urban environment, no shortage of those, but they get started on smaller prey.
Diana and Connor, the parents of the unlucky rascal have their own daily report.
http://www.ofnc.ca/falconwatch/pefa08.php

Good morning, all.

I'm sorry I missed all of the Hobbity fun yesterday afternoon (and I started it!).

Was thinking of Bilbo in his later years, just before LOTR, and the second movie, "Last Tango in the Shire."

Looking forward to reading Joel's piece. I wonder if there's anything about George having a pillow and a mini-fridge under his desk a la Costanza...

Watching F1 Spanish GP qualifying live with the sound down, thinking of Error this morning.

bc

Morning, all. We slept in this morning. So delightful!

I let the coneflowers go to seed because the goldfinches come to feast, and I get to enjoy watching them! Otherwise, I might or might not get fleeting glimpses of them now and again.

This spring there is a pair of crows living close by. They are noisy but it's nice to have them around. They do keep the vermin down.

Good morning, friends. I think the folks here should read Colbert King's piece this morning. Very interesting. According to news reports, the voters in Penn. voted for Clinton because she is white. If anyone remembers, I think I made the statement here that would it not be odd that the very thing the Clintons professed to be so against (racism, and that ilk) be the thing that they use to get her elected?
There isn't a Republican strategist in the country with a plan better than the one the Dems are using right now. Why in the world would one alienate the very people that vote for you? There are too many variables here too. The verdict in New York does not help matters in the least. The Dems some months ago were looking good. I'm beginning to feel like puking, and no place to do it.

Morning, Scotty. I saw the updated pictures of the bph, evidently I missed the other ones. You guys always look so happy at these events.

All right, Mudge, Slyness, Martooni, get the lead out. Morning all.*waving* The asterik on my computer looks like an overweight thingy. Oh, well, it matches the owner (smile).

Aren't you folks happy this morning? I am, and I am here alone. Quiet.

Nothing planned for the day, just a little bit of study and watching television. Hope your weekend is going lovely. The weather person here is calling for rain later today. Right now it is okay, not cold one bit. Nice.

God loves us so much more than we can imagine through Him that died for all, Jesus Christ.

Miss Cassandra, good question but is it also not true that polls show overwhelming black support for Sen. Obama? How is this different? Is it better? Worse?

Mornin' all...

Mornin' Cassandra... I'm trying to wake up but not having much success.

Scotty... how the heck you can be so chipper so early is beyond me. I'd say "more power to ya", but then you'd probably spontaneously combust or short out half the East Coast power grid. Not to get personal, but do you glow in the dark?

Am I the only one who enjoys being grumpy in the morning? If there are more of you out there, please let me know -- we could start a club. I wouldn't expect anyone to show up at meetings before noon, but then I wouldn't be stupid enough to schedule one that early.

Harumph.

Y'know what would make this morning perfect? A couple of teenagers wandering onto my lawn.

I am so in the mood to yell "Hey you! Yeah YOU! Get the he11 off my lawn!"

In fact, I just might hire a kid to mow my lawn just so I can yell at him to get off it.

Harumph, harumph, harumph...

And peace out ;-)

Whoa, I have a lot of backboodling to do, as this week was the workweek from h-e-double hockey sticks. And let me tell you, when I got a voicemail from a partner on my office line after 7:00 last night (thus necessitating calling in to check my voicemail & logging on from home), there were more than a few choice words. Anywho...

I am very familiar with the concept of porch-sitting. Growing up in small-town coastal South Carolina, we did our fair share of it. Yes, everyone had air conditioning by then, but it was a way of life. Every afternoon when it wasn't over 95 degrees outside, my parents could be found on our porch or our next-door neighbor's porch, drinking a glass of sweet tea and contemplating who was going by and who they were with. All of the kids would gather in one of the yards and play, or as we got older, porch-sit as well. I still porch-sit with our old neighbor when I go back for a visit every once in a while.

Also reminds me of post-Hurricane Hugo. Talk about needing your neighbors then! My dad's friend owned a restaurant, and all of his meat was going to go bad if it wasn't eaten quickly post-hurricane. So we fired up a few grills in the neighborhood (weather is usually beautiful right after a hurricane) and invited all the neighbors over to have a picnic in our yard. People got together to clear branches and trees house-by-house and assess the damage. We lived in the historic district (our house was built in 1825), and I think those houses were built better than new ones!

Just thinking about all of this makes me want to go home for a weekend!

CC

Real good question, and I'm glad you asked. I will try to answer the best way I know how. It would be nice, and better than nice if we voted on qualification and the ability to get things done. There isn't a job one can do that says I'm ready to be President of the United States of America. But rarely do we get the "meat and potatoes" of an individual or the issues that we need to consider in voting for a person of quality. The media gives us "sound bites" and frivolous stuff to consider in our choice. So we are "dumb downed" in my opinion. And this has been the case for so many years, that it is ingrained in how we think. Some say if the issues are presented so many folks would not understand them so they would not make good choices anyway. Speaking from personal experience, for me, that is probably true. Yet if that was hawked as this trival mess is, somewhere along the lines, we just might pick up a few important details.

Now in this country everything is and has been based on race. I did not invent this can of worms and neither did you. It just is. Obama for many African-Americans is a sign of hope. As the poet Langston Huges wrote, perhaps, that hope that was deferred? For others he is that sign of change. For some that have gotten worn out with the status quo and the same old fighting, he offers something better. Choosing candidates according to skin color falls in the category of race, and in my opinion is not good for the country. African-Americans have always been squeezed in their choices because to me, it seems like the events after the Civil War, slaves were left with their captors and told they were free, duh? Do you see what I'm saying. I'm probably not expressing this too well. When we continue to express ourselves in our respective skin color, we can never move forward. It should be an asset, not a hinderance. The question should be, not what color are you, but what can you do to move our country forward and make us prosperous, healthy, and leading the world in those things we hold dear. If you're purple, we'll get over it.

Of course, this kind of thinking is considered "fairy tale" because human nature does not work that way. We hold tight to those "values" that we've embraced for years and years. Perhaps we are as some folks attest, not really qualified to vote for the high office of the Presidency. Yet this is one of the cornestones of democracy, and it is just as good as the others. We have to be careful here because the world is watching. Our standing in the world has taken a hit, a serious hit and fences need mending. We cannot shell everyone or bomb everyone. How are we going to sell our way of life if we can't really enjoy it? Common sense needs to prevail here.

Martooni, I share your grumpiness in the morning. I have tempered it over the years to more of a semiconscious grunting stumble. I marvel at Scotty, how early he rises, even on weekends! I try to never get up before 8 am on a weekend.

"S" is mowing the lawn for the first time this year and we will be planting some shrubs later. My neighborhood is a throw back to the 50's. Little bungalows, capes and ranch houses on decent size lots. The bungalows have front porches, most of the rest of us have back porches of various sizes. Everyone waves when they drive by and if we're walking, we may stop to admire a new puppy and talk briefly with the neighbors. No one is overly friendly (this is New England), but everyone is pleasant and we and our next door neighbors are mutually helpful regarding lawn care, gardens and such. I am very happy being in this type of environment, having lived in more insulated communities with bigger houses and lots and no interaction at all between neighbors. PLS, I remember a similar neighborhood reaction here after hurricane Bob. I gave my then teenage daughter a ton of chicken to take to a cookout her friends were having.

I am making a couple of shell wreaths. I thought it would be a good activity for recuperation, but as usual, I can't wait to get into it. I've made shell framed mirrors in the past and just love working with all the different shapes and colors to get the right affect. Need to tear myself away and go dig in the dirt for a few hours. Happy weekend everyone.

"Just a Grumpy Gnome",
(sung to the tune of "Just a Gigolo")

I'm just a grumpy gnome,
and everywhere I go,
you should see the things
they throw at me.

Perfectly good shoes
and ripe tomatoes, too...
Oh... the huge manatees.

But there will come a day,
when bricks will fly my way,
What could they say about me?
When the end comes I know
There were just us grumpy gnomes,
Try to grow food
without me...

'Cause...

Iiiiiiii
don't like things sunny...
No sunny, no funny
no bunnies, no money
no honey
to spend a dime on me...

And Iiiiiiiiii
have got arthritis...
and psoriasis
and asthma
and aches and pains,
and lep-row-cee,
won't you come and dance
with me? for free?

'Cause Iiiiiiiiii
still have my real teeth...
but they're yellow
and they're crooked
and unbrushed,
and unflossed,
why not give a kiss
to me? oh, please!

( sax solo )

( mayhem )

( rip in spandex pants )

( more mayhem )

( catch hair on fire )

( run away )

Martooni, it is disconcerting at best to watch you spin out of control. I think you see it yourself, as evidenced by your ruh-roh comment the other day.

You might feel what you think is the approval and amusement of the Boodle, and I'm sure there is some of that out there.

But for some there's also an unease, an embarrassed, not-knowing which way to look and a deep concern for the welfare of your SO and little Bean.

It's that concern which prompts me to write. I can skip over your posts, they don't make me uneasy or embarrassed; I've lived through much worse with an alcoholic mother and step-father. They do bring back a lot of bad memories of being hostage-helpless and I dislike the thought of what this decline is doing to your family.

Please consider trying again.

Two must-read pieces in the NYT today, one an op-ed, the second an article, about present-day discrimination in the U.S.--having nothing to do with race:

The op-ed is how John McCain failed to show up in the Senate this week to vote for the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. He would have voted no, as Gail Collins' op-ed points out. However, I heard on NPR that Obama and Clinton made a special point of returning to D.C. to vote yes for the bill, which failed passage by four votes. If you don't know Ledbetter's tragic tale, you should read the op-ed.

Here's one graf:

Lilly Ledbetter was a supervisor at a Goodyear Tire plant in Gadsden, Ala., for almost 20 years -- the only woman who ever managed to stick it out in what was not exactly a female-friendly environment. When she was near retirement, she got an anonymous letter listing the salaries of the men who held the same job. While she was making $3,727 a month, the lowest paid man, with far less seniority, was getting $4,286.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/26/opinion/26collins.html?hp

The second story has to deal with religious discrimination by Christian evalgelist soldiers--against atheists who serve in the same armed forces units in Iraq. And the details illuminate some pretty harsh words and treatment of those in the minority--the atheists, and yes, another lawsuit. (Any hope that this lawsuit will provide justice, since Ledbetter's failed on appeal to the Supreme Court?)

One graf:

Last month, Specialist Hall and the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, an advocacy group, filed suit in federal court in Kansas, alleging that Specialist Hall's right to be free from state endorsement of religion under the First Amendment had been violated and that he had faced retaliation for his views. In November, he was sent home early from Iraq because of threats from fellow soldiers.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/26/us/26atheist.html?hp

Oh, dbg, your words much needed. What a beautiful soul you have. And a whole lot of courage. Yet you speak from experience on the other end of that sadness. And it is all, sadness. I have the perspective from the other end. My children got it from the end you speak of. None of it good.

You are a remarkable person, dbg.

Martooni, good words from our friend here.

re: Bad sneakers - "I try to never get up before 8 am on a weekend."

And you call THAT sleeping in?!? You, sir/ma'am, are an amateur! Why, there have been entire vacations when I considered any sighting of Sol to be an anathema, unless I was STILL up when he arose.

At least Specialist Hall had a job, and a rifle in c