Well, William “Mel” Wallace must be rolling in his several graves: there’s evidence that haggis might have originated in England, not Scotland.
A Scottish food historian (why did I go for military history instead of food history?) says she found reference to the sheep-guts-&-oatmeal dish in an English cookery book dated 1615; the first mention of it in Scottish cook books is 1747.
Naturally the Scots—a race with an inherent inferiority complex dating way back before 1615—are waxing wroth & foaming at the mouth over the suggestion. Some clown named Robert Patrick has been making the rounds of the news services, drawing all sorts of lame conclusions about how this travesty might be: a well-travelled Scot might have dropped his cook book in England; maybe the English did originate it, but it’s now Scottish because…well, because; etc.
I love his assurance that the new claim is “not going down very well at all.” Kind of like…haggis, eh? (& yes, I have actually eaten it, so just back off.)
Patrick is allegedly a “world champion haggis maker”. You have to wonder how tough the competition is for that?
Of course, the crux of the matter might just be that the Scots were illiterate long after the English took up their letters: they could have been making haggis for decades, but just not be capable of putting pen to parchment to actually, you know, write it down.
& then there’s the real issue: who cares?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Remembering the Guns of August
Ninety-five years ago the chain of events begun in a farce-like assassination ground into a series of declarations of war ending with that of Great Britain on Germany on 4 August 1914.
And the stage was set for more than four years of horror Europe hadn’t seen since the Thirty Years War. In fact, take the carnage of that imperial conflict, freeze it primarily over Northern France/Belgium like a stalled weather system, add in such vastly improved killing technology as machine guns and rifled artillery and you have a recipe for 20,000,000 dead, billions in war debt and dragons’ teeth sown for the next conflagration 20 years down the road.
Between the murder of Franz Ferdinand and his consort Sophie by Bosnian dupes of the Serbs on 28 June and the final diplomatic gloved slaps (and the immediate invasion by Germany of Belgium without a declaration of war) there were Byzantine machinations and all manner of monarchical posturing (largely by Wilhelm II).
But really—once the partial and general mobilizations had been ordered in the various empires the rest was just filling in the gaps.
Anyhow—this is a good occasion to consider how momentum builds for something like this when there are testosterone-clouded minds in charge of states.
And the stage was set for more than four years of horror Europe hadn’t seen since the Thirty Years War. In fact, take the carnage of that imperial conflict, freeze it primarily over Northern France/Belgium like a stalled weather system, add in such vastly improved killing technology as machine guns and rifled artillery and you have a recipe for 20,000,000 dead, billions in war debt and dragons’ teeth sown for the next conflagration 20 years down the road.
Between the murder of Franz Ferdinand and his consort Sophie by Bosnian dupes of the Serbs on 28 June and the final diplomatic gloved slaps (and the immediate invasion by Germany of Belgium without a declaration of war) there were Byzantine machinations and all manner of monarchical posturing (largely by Wilhelm II).
But really—once the partial and general mobilizations had been ordered in the various empires the rest was just filling in the gaps.
Anyhow—this is a good occasion to consider how momentum builds for something like this when there are testosterone-clouded minds in charge of states.
Monday, August 3, 2009
The rich are different
From the NY Times comes word that celeb photog Annie Leibovitz is experiencing the sort of financial woes you’d not expect from someone who starts out with a $3M salary from Vanity Fair & adds commissions in the hundreds of thousands on top of that.
You sort of wonder how someone can go through a line of credit of $24M in a year—that’s a lot of Hasselblads.
Her friends insist that she’s not blowing it on Ferraris or Modiglianis (since she can get her clients to fork over for whatever she wants in that line), but that’s all the story we’re getting from her side. Meanwhile the company that lent her the $24M is suing her for repayment & may start selling her NY properties or take over the rights to her photographs, since that’s what she used to secure the loan.
Don’t know what moral to read into this. Except with her kind of income she might have considered hiring money managers.
You sort of wonder how someone can go through a line of credit of $24M in a year—that’s a lot of Hasselblads.
Her friends insist that she’s not blowing it on Ferraris or Modiglianis (since she can get her clients to fork over for whatever she wants in that line), but that’s all the story we’re getting from her side. Meanwhile the company that lent her the $24M is suing her for repayment & may start selling her NY properties or take over the rights to her photographs, since that’s what she used to secure the loan.
Don’t know what moral to read into this. Except with her kind of income she might have considered hiring money managers.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sleepless yet again
Well, you knew this was coming: there’s been at least one heat-related death in King County, as reported by the Seattle Times. In nearby Tacoma, another man’s death has also been attributed to the ungodly heat that has gone unmitigated here by any real air conditioning.
County officials wring their hands & spout the usual blather about avoiding the direct sun & staying hydrated. They’ve opened several “cooling centers” in King County where you can go during the day primarily; but then you have to go home to your little heat box & try to pass the night somehow.
They’re talking a break in the heat wave today, & it was indeed more temperate as I drove in to work.
Of course “break” is relative: temps are forecast to be in the high 80s. & still no AC.
This place is basically a big bowl of suck. Melted suck.
County officials wring their hands & spout the usual blather about avoiding the direct sun & staying hydrated. They’ve opened several “cooling centers” in King County where you can go during the day primarily; but then you have to go home to your little heat box & try to pass the night somehow.
They’re talking a break in the heat wave today, & it was indeed more temperate as I drove in to work.
Of course “break” is relative: temps are forecast to be in the high 80s. & still no AC.
This place is basically a big bowl of suck. Melted suck.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Sleepless again
Folks--it's 106 degrees & my house has no AC. I'm headed into my third night of no sleep.
Definitely too hot to post.
Pray for a break in the weather.
Definitely too hot to post.
Pray for a break in the weather.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sleepless in Seattle
We’re having a heatwave out here, & it’s wiping me out. All this week temps are in the 90s & up to 100.
Hey, chick, you say—it’s summer, whaddaya expect?
What I expect is some semblance of civilization in the form of air conditioning & that is conspicuous by its absence in this berg. The cheap-ass rationale is that it doesn’t get hot enough here to warrant installing it in businesses or residences.
Evidently, despite Seattlites’ pretentions to being the very icons of eco-guardianship, they haven’t heard of global warming. Last year during the week I moved into the Rambler it was over 90 degrees for ten days; no AC there, either.
In Virginia for at least the past 15 years no builder would dream of putting up a house without central air. Even my home, built in the 70s, had it. &, boy, am I jonesing for it now. I got about four hours of fitful sleep last night, & don’t have any reasonable prospect of more through Thursday at least.
I suppose this balances out December when you had to go in to work because that building had power & heat, & your house didn’t.
How many ways can this place blow?
Hey, chick, you say—it’s summer, whaddaya expect?
What I expect is some semblance of civilization in the form of air conditioning & that is conspicuous by its absence in this berg. The cheap-ass rationale is that it doesn’t get hot enough here to warrant installing it in businesses or residences.
Evidently, despite Seattlites’ pretentions to being the very icons of eco-guardianship, they haven’t heard of global warming. Last year during the week I moved into the Rambler it was over 90 degrees for ten days; no AC there, either.
In Virginia for at least the past 15 years no builder would dream of putting up a house without central air. Even my home, built in the 70s, had it. &, boy, am I jonesing for it now. I got about four hours of fitful sleep last night, & don’t have any reasonable prospect of more through Thursday at least.
I suppose this balances out December when you had to go in to work because that building had power & heat, & your house didn’t.
How many ways can this place blow?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Palin, chapter 2
The Republican bimbo-in-chief has cut her losses & run from the now-mundane business of fulfilling her obligations as governor of Alaska. As she promised on 3 July, Sarah Palin made one last round of barnstorming the state & public picnics & then walked off into the metaphoric sunset on Sunday.
Too bad Walt Disney’s not around to stage those events—I have this vision of Pollyana’s town fair.
La Palin has said that it’s a far, far better thing she does than she’s ever done before (no, not in those words; literature’s not her thing), because if she didn’t leave now, 18 months before her term ends, Alaska would be burdened with a lame duck governor!
Now, politics is not my thing, but isn’t that, you know, part of the whole game? Being a leader the entire term you were elected to? If she were to be, God forbid, elected to higher office, would she bag the last couple of years there, too?
Of course, she’s got Other Things on her mind—conning supporters into shelling out for her various legal defense actions, offering to campaign on behalf of Republican candidates around the country (office not specified), let a ghost writer pen her autobiography.
Jury’s still out on what her own political plans are. Well, we know what her aspirations are; whether the Republican party will remain in a state of fugue & support her remains to be seen.
What I want to know is: what happened to that $100,000 Neiman-Marcus wardrobe the ‘Pubs bought for her?
Too bad Walt Disney’s not around to stage those events—I have this vision of Pollyana’s town fair.
La Palin has said that it’s a far, far better thing she does than she’s ever done before (no, not in those words; literature’s not her thing), because if she didn’t leave now, 18 months before her term ends, Alaska would be burdened with a lame duck governor!
Now, politics is not my thing, but isn’t that, you know, part of the whole game? Being a leader the entire term you were elected to? If she were to be, God forbid, elected to higher office, would she bag the last couple of years there, too?
Of course, she’s got Other Things on her mind—conning supporters into shelling out for her various legal defense actions, offering to campaign on behalf of Republican candidates around the country (office not specified), let a ghost writer pen her autobiography.
Jury’s still out on what her own political plans are. Well, we know what her aspirations are; whether the Republican party will remain in a state of fugue & support her remains to be seen.
What I want to know is: what happened to that $100,000 Neiman-Marcus wardrobe the ‘Pubs bought for her?
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Property is theft
Uh-oh.
I checked my Facebook page to find a neighbor from my old cluster in Virginia saying she “is not happy with all the dirty hippies moving in two doors down. Looks like they've been listenin to Mick Jagger music and bad-mouthin their country.”
Seems the people who bought my house—we knew up front that they were buying it for investment property, to rent it out—have already leased it, & to lowlifes.
I’m sorry about that because one property owner in the cluster made a business out of renting his house to trailer trash. There was one set of tenants there for a few years that seemed to be some sort of group home. I mean one middle-aged white guy & a collection of Gen-Texts in succession, parking their junkers in other people’s parking slots, attracting visits from the cops & generally lowering property values.
When they finally moved out the owner literally stripped the place down to the studs because of all the damage.
Then he turned around & rented it to the Clampetts—a clan of Ozarkian proportions & class who immediately let their spawn turn the landscaped front yard into a sea of mud.
So apologies to all my neighbors, but welcome to capitalism.
& I’m still glad that property’s off my hands, if not entirely off my conscience.
I checked my Facebook page to find a neighbor from my old cluster in Virginia saying she “is not happy with all the dirty hippies moving in two doors down. Looks like they've been listenin to Mick Jagger music and bad-mouthin their country.”
Seems the people who bought my house—we knew up front that they were buying it for investment property, to rent it out—have already leased it, & to lowlifes.
I’m sorry about that because one property owner in the cluster made a business out of renting his house to trailer trash. There was one set of tenants there for a few years that seemed to be some sort of group home. I mean one middle-aged white guy & a collection of Gen-Texts in succession, parking their junkers in other people’s parking slots, attracting visits from the cops & generally lowering property values.
When they finally moved out the owner literally stripped the place down to the studs because of all the damage.
Then he turned around & rented it to the Clampetts—a clan of Ozarkian proportions & class who immediately let their spawn turn the landscaped front yard into a sea of mud.
So apologies to all my neighbors, but welcome to capitalism.
& I’m still glad that property’s off my hands, if not entirely off my conscience.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sign of the Times, chapter 2
Okay, the recession has officially struck beyond the living: the LA Times reports that times are so tough people are leaving the bodies of their relatives with county morgues to be cremated on the public nickel.
In LA what this amounts to is paying $352 for collecting the ashes from the coroner after an unclaimed body is cremated. As opposed to $466 for collecting them from the morgue.
(Apparently they’re different entities. Who knew?)
To put this into perspective, claiming a body from the LA county coroner will set you back $200. Then there’s the $1000 for cremation in a private facility or a minimum of $7300 for the most basic of funerals & burials.
Personally, while I find it fascinating to visit graveyards, read the headstones & imagine the lives represented there, I’m not particularly interested in what happens to the body once the anima has departed. But I understand that I’m in the minority in this regard, & that having to decide between honoring your loved one in a way suitable to your beliefs or buying food & paying the rent is a heart-rending choice no one in this country should be forced to make.
So I’m sure these people will take comfort in the good news that the major banks whose crack-brained lending practices caused this whole mess have reported such good financial news that they’re able once again to splash out on extravagant corporate jollies & obscenely large bonuses for management.
(At least the Times had the grace not to serve up the ads for caskets on this story’s that appeared in the report about Farrah Fawcett's death.)
In LA what this amounts to is paying $352 for collecting the ashes from the coroner after an unclaimed body is cremated. As opposed to $466 for collecting them from the morgue.
(Apparently they’re different entities. Who knew?)
To put this into perspective, claiming a body from the LA county coroner will set you back $200. Then there’s the $1000 for cremation in a private facility or a minimum of $7300 for the most basic of funerals & burials.
Personally, while I find it fascinating to visit graveyards, read the headstones & imagine the lives represented there, I’m not particularly interested in what happens to the body once the anima has departed. But I understand that I’m in the minority in this regard, & that having to decide between honoring your loved one in a way suitable to your beliefs or buying food & paying the rent is a heart-rending choice no one in this country should be forced to make.
So I’m sure these people will take comfort in the good news that the major banks whose crack-brained lending practices caused this whole mess have reported such good financial news that they’re able once again to splash out on extravagant corporate jollies & obscenely large bonuses for management.
(At least the Times had the grace not to serve up the ads for caskets on this story’s that appeared in the report about Farrah Fawcett's death.)
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Jerks in the office
Joe Queenan takes on the phenomenon of the office jerk in the WSJ.
While he’s on his typically stylish form, & he’s probably right about people generally not bitching (at least not in the office) about workplace jerks during the recession, he completely underestimates the arrogance of your standard jerk. They’re not holding back, trying to stay below the HR radar; they’re going full bore with their self-promotion, grandiose schemes & backstabbing.
Stupid or not, recession or not, they are as focused as ever on making a name for themselves & leaving a trail of bodies behind wherever they go. There is no interruption in the havoc they wreak.
At least that’s the modus operandi around here.
While he’s on his typically stylish form, & he’s probably right about people generally not bitching (at least not in the office) about workplace jerks during the recession, he completely underestimates the arrogance of your standard jerk. They’re not holding back, trying to stay below the HR radar; they’re going full bore with their self-promotion, grandiose schemes & backstabbing.
Stupid or not, recession or not, they are as focused as ever on making a name for themselves & leaving a trail of bodies behind wherever they go. There is no interruption in the havoc they wreak.
At least that’s the modus operandi around here.
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