No name is more famous in American politics than “Kennedy.” The Kennedys are a powerful, elite family in American politics that have held many political positions. They’re both loved and despised. Needless to say, John Kennedy (often known as “JFK”) was born into great wealth because of his familial ties.
Linked from PJMedia.com.
I’m tempted to call this some of the crappiest writing I’ve ever read, but that would be an insult to the word crappy.
The menu, a litany of updated regional classics such as black-eyed pea cakes, was relentlessly “improved” by garnishes such as avocados and Basmati rice. The joint’s “philosophy” — since all new restaurants must now publish a justifying manifesto along with their menu — centered on the now tedious homage to “local” “organic” produce and a dedication to “reviving tradition” — plus the removal of trans-fats. Collard greens, sweetened lima beans, and salty-sweet potatoes bracketed the entrees. In the center you’d find rib-eyes under slathers of sauteed onions, broiled slabs of local fish dusted with some orange spice, chickens with a roasted-on glaze, pork in five different variations, and dried cranberries slipped into cakes on the sly just when you thought it was safe.
Grace in the Blue Ridge Mountains by VANDERLEUN on FEBRUARY 20, 2019
Second paragraph. I knew right there he was talking about Early Girl. I may even have had something to say here about Early Girl. I’ll look and see. But it’s not about Early Girl. It’s about something far more interestinng.
“You are bored. And I’m going to let you in on a little secret about life. You think it’s boring now? Well, it only gets more boring. The sooner you learn it’s on you to make life interesting, the better off you’ll be.”
[from February 18, 2015] I first posted this recipe over three years ago and it’s worth a do-again. It comes from 500 Delicious Recipes from Leftovers which is part of the Encyclopedia of Cooking. If you enjoy cookbooks and cooking– or if you have a fridge full of leftovers– you’ll want to hit that link. What a hoot!
[July 19, 2015] This was an interesting cake to watch bake. You expect a cake to come out of the oven finished. This is not what happens with this cake. “Pour topping on cake.” The topping simmered and splattered around the edges. We’d commented that according to the recipe it was a dry cake but then we watched it suck up a cup of butter as it was simmering and splattering. What fun!
Preheat oven to 375o. Combine floursugar, eggs, baking soda, salt, and fruit cocktail and juice in a large bowl and beat by hand or with electric mixer on medium speed for 5 minutes. Pour batter into a greased and floured 13x9x2 inch baking pan and bake 45 minutes. Pour Topping on cake. Allow cake to cool for 2 hours before slicing.
2sticks1 C butter
Preheat oven to 375o. Combine flour, sugar, eggs, baking soda, salt, and fruit cocktail and juice in a large bowl and beat by hand or with electric mixer on medium speed for 5 minutes. Pour batter into a greased and floured 13x9x2 inch baking pan and bake 45 minutes. Pour Topping on cake. Allow cake to cool for 2 hours before slicing.
TOPPING: Combine butter, sugar, and evaporated milk in a saucepan and boil for 10 minutes. “Be careful or mixture will overflow.” Remove from heat, add pecans, coconut, and vanilla, and pour over warm cake while Topping is hot.
Obviously, have coffee and check Windy for the weather. But not according to Heloise who says,
The first thing to do in the mornings is to put your dishes in the sink to soak and then make the beds! I don’t know why, but this is most important. It gives a woman a feeling of not being embarrassed if a neighbor drops in, and you’re in a better mood, since what has yet to be done doesn’t show.
Soaking dishes. Neighbors dropping in unannounced. Whoa. What’s next?
Instead of hanging hubby’s pajamas in the closet, try placing them under the pillow. Do the same for your nightgown. This eliminates about fourteen steps a day. … This is most convenient in more ways than one. Your husband can’t say, “I can’t find my pajamas!”
I must admit, there’s a part of my brain that grew up in the 60s that’s saying, “Take care of your own jammies, for crying out loud. Who do you think I am, your mother?”
At lunch today, Mr. Big Food and I were discussing the results from a recent survey conducted by The Woodrow Wilson National Fellowship Foundation. It was a survey testing American citizens’ knowledge of civics. The irony of this organization conducting this survey was not lost on either of us. (We are not fans of WW.) The Foundation declares that only one state’s citizens can pass the test.
The test is a version of the citizenship test given to those wishing to become citizens of the United States of America. (The test itself is an oral test. That given to participants in the survey is a 20-question multiple-choice test drawn from the bank of real test questions.)
We were discussing some of the state’s results. For example, Vermont– the state the Foundation claims is the only one in which a simple majority of citizens pass– has 49% Fs (scoring below 70% on the test). All others have greater than 50% Fs. I find this unbelievable.
Mr. Big Food countered that it really wasn’t apples & apples: immigrants taking the test have time to prepare, while those random (?) participants in the survey did not. Fair point, but I’ve taken the test and I can assure you that it’s outlandish that only 20% of Wyoming citizens got As or Bs. (Wyoming is #2 on the list with 51% Fs; it’s also the state with the highest percents As, and As & Bs.) On the other hand, it’s hilarious that only 7% of Kentuckians got As or Bs; 1% got As!
“What’s on the test?” Mr. Big Food asks.
So I read to him the test questions. Long about #12 he asks, “People can’t answer these questions?!?”
I have no idea how a theoretical physicist living in Sophia, Bulgaria came to follow my little blog. The polite thing to do when someone inexplicably follows is to– as WP asks me to do– is “check them out” (grammatically incorrect, WP). More often than not, I move on with my life. But sometimes… you just get lucky.
The history of Matera is really unique: it used to be an extremely poor place where people actually lived in cave-like houses called “sassi” up until the 50es of 20th century. The medieval conditions were considered inhumane even by the government of Italy so by a state law the people were actually moved out to completely new neighborhoods. So the old town with the sassi was deserted for a few decades before people starting realizing how unique the atmosphere is.
Marie Kondo, guru of the “don’t be afraid to grab another trash bag” movement, recently drew ire from book-lovers. Kondo recommends we keep no more than 30 books in our homes, 30 books that “spark joy.” But who is to say what sparks joy today will spark joy tomorrow?
If there’s an Oxford Comma, why isn’t there also a Cambridge Comma? Or maybe it has merely been overtaken by what I call the “Shatner-Walken Comma,” which runs something like: “What, do you mean, a Cambridge, comma? All you, need, is more, cowbell. And, Yeoman Rand.”
This is true. There’s a whole table in the Living Room dedicated to books which I have cleaned, wondered why I had placed them in such & such a location, and put on the table awaiting replacement on another shelf.
That’s the first sentence, by the way. It’s downhill from there. Witness this sorting technique:
Mr. Big Food owns a 10-gallon pot– he typically uses it on the propane turkey frier to make a shrimp boil for a crowd– and I’ll bet the gumbo pot comes in at four- to five-gallons or so. And I suppose we are not the only ones who have big pots. But I’d also suppose that those of us who do own big pots cook in a different manner than, say the folks who participated in the “Added Value” project at the SFMOMA. Set that aside. Five gallons of water, boiling or not, weighs (does math in head) 40 pounds + the weight of the pot and lid. I am an able-bodied person, and although I can carry a malleable 40-pound bag of cow manure, I doubt that I could carry this pot of boiling water.
But the bigger question is this. Under what circumstances would I need to?
Boiling water is usually not an end in and of itself. It is a means to an end. Five gallons of Southern Sweet Tea for a crowd. A lot of boiled shrimp. Wash day if you’re off the grid. So having boiled the five gallons of water on the stove, you next put something into it– and then later take that something out of it.
What, exactly, is the recipe that includes the instruction, “carry five-gallon pot of boiling water?”
I could have seen the difficulty if it had been “fill pot with five gallons of water, bring to a boil.” Carrying a 40+ pound pot across the kitchen to the stove requires that I call Mr. Big Food.
So here we have someone writing words on a topic about which they are completely ignorant.
Further– these words are utterly demeaning to the very group about whom they are intended to make one think. Again, forget the idiotic boiling. Are we to assume that differently-abled people do not have the cognitive resources to figure their way out of this paper bag?
So, Marica. If Mr. Big Food had asked you to boil five gallons of water while he was away at work, what would you do? Well… let me think. Oh! I know! I would make two trips into the Tornado Room where our store of gallon-sized bottled waters are and empty five of them into the pot that’s already on the stove. Duh.
[T]he addition of a red sticker indicates if a book is written about a particular culture, people, and/or place — but presumes a readership not of that culture, people, and/or place (this may include histories, artistic forms, travel, cooking, and romance).
That’s some pretty crummy writing right there. Whatever. Remind me to buy a few cartons of red stickers next time I’m in town. I have sorting to do.
All things are corrupted and decay in time; Saturn ceases not to devour the children that he generates; all the glory of the world would be buried in oblivion, if God had not provided mortals with the remedy of books.
Richard de Bury, Philbiblon (1345, A.D.); the epigraph to Seventy Years of Textbook Publishing 1867 – 1937, Thomas Bonaventure Lawler, Ginn and Company, Boston, 1938.
From that infallible source: “[Richard de Bury] was a patron of learning and one of the first English collectors of books. He is chiefly remembered for his Philobiblon, written to inculcate in the clergy the pursuit of learning and the love of books. The “Philobiblon” is considered one of the earliest books to discuss librarianship in-depth.”
Nooo. I am not cleaning off my desk! But that was a good guess. I am cleaning the shelves of fiction, poetry, and plays (why did I have Long Days Journey into Night on the fiction shelves?) and putting away some of the books on the “un-filed” shelf. Technically, Seventy Years should be among the books about books in the living room. But is there space?
NOTE: WP is not doing what I ask. I know full-well how to format titles.
’Tis the human touch in this world that counts, The touch of your hand and mine, Which means far more to the fainting heart Than shelter and bread and wine. For shelter is gone when the night is o’er, And bread lasts only a day. But the touch of the hand And the sound of the voice Sing on in the soul alway.
In case you were wondering– given the fact that I spoke to the sheep as if I were addressing human infants– sheep’s auditory frequency range is 100-30,000Hz. The frequency of a human female voice ranges from 165-255Hz (male voice, 85-180). So Mr. Big Food may have to elevate the frequency of his calls. I need not sound so goofy as I do.
And because the you can never know too much… .
Hearing Range of Some Animals (in Hz)
45 – 64,000
64 – 23,000
67 – 45,000
100 – 30,000
360 – 42,000
1000 – 91,000
It drives me nuts when WP won’t allow me to align columns of numerals properly. Apologies.
Another interesting factoid. The dominant frequency of thunder is 100Hz.
Oh! Yes. She eventually came over but Clyde is so dominant– and so much larger– that she has a hard time getting much more than what falls on the ground.
How is it possible that I do not have a complete set of A Study of History?*
How is it possible that Archive dot org does not have Volume X?
How is it possible that a year and a half ago I purchased two volume of Toynbee’s classic and did not shelve them with the other Toynbee books I have?
Heh. This seems timely.
The meaning behind the facts of History towards which the poetry in the facts is leading us is a revelation of God and a hope of communion with Him; but in this quest for Beatific Vision that is visible to a Communion of Saints we are ever in danger of being diverted from our search for God to a glorification of Man; and this sin of associating the creature with the Creator precipitates the man-worshipper into a continuing fall from idolatry through disillusionment to an eventual depreciation of Man which is almost as excessive as the adulation to which it is the inevitable sequel.
Arnold Toynbee, A Study of History Volume X (1954; section XIII, The Inspirations of Historians, subsection E, The Quest for a Meaning Behind the Facts of History; p. 126)
*Yeah yeah yeah. I get it. Some of you kids don’t think much of Toynbee. Too bad. I don’t care. My mission is to preserve Western Culture one crappy old book at a time. An abridgment of this 12 volume work will not suffice.
This right here boys & girls is why the annual book dusting takes so long, and why stupid Miss-You-Only-Need-30-Books’ life must be so utterly empty.
INTERIOR: 1st story– kitchen and breakfast nook with vinyl flooring, enhanced by stabilizing brick. Split-level 2nd story– living and dining room with wall-to-wall carpet. 3rd story carpeted loft– overlooks dining room, scenic view of Big House’s back door, can serve as storm shelter.
EXTERIOR: Cedar paneling with (tattered) Roman shade decorative element. Two layer water- and wind-proof roof (water proof layer not visible). Concrete block patio with whimsical outdoor art work. Not captured in photos, roof-top flag pole with American flag.
Soliciting bids for routine Springtime maintenance.
(Like everything else around the joint, Tiger’s condo needs some work.”