Those wacky Dutchmen from Utrecht are at it again. The Official Jacob van Eyck website reports a recent (okay, recent relative to 1652) significant Jacob Van Eyck sighting.
For the uninitiated (i. e., normal) among the readers, Jacob Van Eyck was a carillon and recorder player in Utrecht who around 1651 published a large book of hundreds of variations of religious and popular tunes of the time for solo recorder. The book , which I purchased from Courtly Music (I recommend you purchase from them, too), is very cool and fun to play over 350 years later. The title is Der Fluyten Lust Hopf. By the way, Courtly Music delivered the books about three days after I ordered them. That’s pretty quick after waiting several centuries.
The "Daphne" mentioned below is a song from this book which proved very popular in its time. Van Eyck's "Daphne" was featured in Black Robe, a 1991 movie about a French priest among the Indians in Quebec. In a flashback scene, the young man realises the futility of his Parisian bourgeous existance while listening to his sister play "Daphne" in his mother's parlor.
This article is reprinted from The official Jacob van Eyck Website
Jacob van Eyck in literature: The Island of the Day Before by Umberto Eco
The first novel featuring Jacob van Eyck has yet to be written, but there is one literary work in which the Utrecht Orpheus appears, even though he is not named specifically. It is the book L'isola del giorno prima or The Island of the Day Before (1994) by Umberto Eco, known primarily for his previous best-selling novels The Name of the Rose and Foucault's Pendulum. The author, Professor of Semiotics at the University of Bologna, is also a keen amateur recorder player. {YES, YES! Another member of the “unshaven recorder players’ fraternity}
The Island of the Day Before is an adventure story set in 1643. The main character, the young Italian nobleman Roberto, is shipwrecked aboard the Amarilli (in the English version translated as Amaryllis). He winds up on a Dutch vessel then known as a 'fluyt'in Dutch, the same word for 'recorder'. The ship is called the Daphne. And in his imagination there is another ship called the Tweede Daphne, "that is to say, Daphne the Second, a sign that somewhere there must be a Daphne the First, which showed how those Protestants lacked not only faith but also imagination." (transl. W. Weaver, p. 403)
It was early morning, and Roberto again was dreaming. He dreamed of Holland. It was while the Cardinal's men were conducting him to Amsterdam to put him on the Amaryllis. During the journey they stopped at a city, and he entered the cathedral. He was impressed by the cleanliness of the naves, so different from those of Italian and French churches. Bare of decorations, only a few standards hanging from the naked columns, the glass windows plain and without images: the sun created there a milky atmosphere dotted only by the few black forms of the worshippers below. In that peace a single sound was heard, a sad melody that seemed to wander through the ivory air, born from the capitals or the keystones. Then he noticed in one chapel, in the ambulatory of the choir, a man in black, alone in one corner playing a little recorder, his eyes staring into the void.
When the musician finished, Roberto went over to him, wondering if he should give him something; not looking into Roberto's face, the man thanked him for his praise, and Roberto realized he was blind. He was the master of the bells (der Musicyn en Directeur van de Klokwerken, le carillonneur, der Glockenspieler, he tried to explain), but it was also part of his job to delight with the sound of his flute the faithful who lingered at evening in the yard and the cemetery beside the church. He knew many melodies, and on each he developed two, three, sometimes even five variations of increasing complexity, nor was it necessary for him to read notes: born blind, he could move in that handsome luminous space (yes, he said luminous) of his church, seeing, as he said, the sun with his skin. He explained how his instrument was so much a living thing, that it reacted to the seasons, and to the temperature of morning and sunset, but in the church there was always a sort of diffuse warmth that guaranteed the wood a steady perfection-and Roberto reflected on the notion of diffuse warmth a man of the north might have, for he himself was growing cold in this clarity.
The musician played for him the first melody twice more, and said it was entitled "Doen Daphne d'over schoone Maeght." He refused any offering, touched Roberto's face and said, or at least Roberto understood him to say, that "Daphne" was something sweet, which would accompany Roberto all of his life.
Now, on the Daphne, Roberto opened his eyes and, without doubt, heard coming from below,through the fissures in the wood, the notes of "Daphne," as if it were being played by a more metallic instrument which, not hazarding variations, repeated at regular intervals the first phrase of the tune, like a stubborn ritornello.
He told himself at once that it was a most ingenious emblem: to be on a fluyt named Daphne and to hear music for flute entitled "Daphne." It was pointless to persist in the illusion that this was a dream. It was a new message from the Intruder.
Father Caspar had taught him how to set in motion: he heard always and only 'Daphne,' because he had not learned how to change the cylinder; but he was not sorry to listen hour after hour to the same tune."
Well well well, fellow early music freaks, with the Semiotics core group on our side, how can we lose?
That's my story and i'm sticking to it.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Sunday, December 02, 2007
In Santa’s Face
The AP reports the following militant act of a Christmas Resistor in Montana.
MISSOULA, Mont. (AP) - A college student accused of shoving a pumpkin pie into the face of a shopping-mall Santa Claus has been charged with misdemeanor assault.
Clint Westwood, 22, said he "lightly smooshed" the pie into the man's face Friday and shouted, "What do you think of that, Santa?"
Westwood, a drama student at the University of Montana, said he videotaped the encounter and plans to include the clip in an upcoming film.
He said that after the pie ruckus on Wednesday, he expected to approach Santa for a signature on a film-release form, but police arrived first.
"It's a good thing he didn't wait around, because I think Santa would have laid him out," said Sgt. Travis Welsh of the Missoula Police Department.
Westwood said he and companions had waited for a girl about 15 years old to finish sitting on Santa's lap before the pie hit his face, "but then we just decided it would be funnier if she was still sitting there."
Although the college student appears to be an annoying person I probably wouldn’t want to know, I somehow get a chuckle from his blatant attack against Santa Claus. I imagine there’s a lump of coal in his future!
It is also interesting that he expected the Santa to sign a release form. I guess he thought the brilliance of his artistic statement would be obvious. Oh, the struggles thatt he true artists among us must deal with!
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
MISSOULA, Mont. (AP) - A college student accused of shoving a pumpkin pie into the face of a shopping-mall Santa Claus has been charged with misdemeanor assault.
Clint Westwood, 22, said he "lightly smooshed" the pie into the man's face Friday and shouted, "What do you think of that, Santa?"
Westwood, a drama student at the University of Montana, said he videotaped the encounter and plans to include the clip in an upcoming film.
He said that after the pie ruckus on Wednesday, he expected to approach Santa for a signature on a film-release form, but police arrived first.
"It's a good thing he didn't wait around, because I think Santa would have laid him out," said Sgt. Travis Welsh of the Missoula Police Department.
Westwood said he and companions had waited for a girl about 15 years old to finish sitting on Santa's lap before the pie hit his face, "but then we just decided it would be funnier if she was still sitting there."
Although the college student appears to be an annoying person I probably wouldn’t want to know, I somehow get a chuckle from his blatant attack against Santa Claus. I imagine there’s a lump of coal in his future!
It is also interesting that he expected the Santa to sign a release form. I guess he thought the brilliance of his artistic statement would be obvious. Oh, the struggles thatt he true artists among us must deal with!
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Why I Blog
"Rat", a character in "Pearls Before Swine" must be reading my mind. Here’s the real dope.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Monday, November 26, 2007
A Susato Thanksgiving
We had the traditional Thanksgiving at my uncle’s place in Santa Rosa . They had 25 people this year.
I brought the cranberry relish, one batch of the Stamberg variety (see the next blog entry), and one batch of plain old whole berry sauce. Otherwise we just ate and had a good time.
The highlight of the evening for me was that my cousin-the-professional-bass-player and I played a set of Tielman Susato songs from the 16th century. As the galliards and pavanes were flying, the electricity went out, so we finished our playing by candlelight! In my life, that’s about as cool as it gets.
We saw the usual suspects from Los Angeles and northern CA.
We took the mountain road route on Thursday morning, since the interstate was a mess. Lots of scenic and winding two-lane roads. We enjoyed the scenery, but DMIL forgot to mention that she gets carsick on mountain roads. So, most of us enjoyed the scenic drive.
We stayed over Thursday night at the Sandman Motel in Santa Rosa. We’ve stayed there every thanksgiving. The breakfast area is always full of protestant missionaries and their families. Strange.
I brought the cranberry relish, one batch of the Stamberg variety (see the next blog entry), and one batch of plain old whole berry sauce. Otherwise we just ate and had a good time.
The highlight of the evening for me was that my cousin-the-professional-bass-player and I played a set of Tielman Susato songs from the 16th century. As the galliards and pavanes were flying, the electricity went out, so we finished our playing by candlelight! In my life, that’s about as cool as it gets.
We saw the usual suspects from Los Angeles and northern CA.
We took the mountain road route on Thursday morning, since the interstate was a mess. Lots of scenic and winding two-lane roads. We enjoyed the scenery, but DMIL forgot to mention that she gets carsick on mountain roads. So, most of us enjoyed the scenic drive.
We stayed over Thursday night at the Sandman Motel in Santa Rosa. We’ve stayed there every thanksgiving. The breakfast area is always full of protestant missionaries and their families. Strange.
Cranberry Relish – Try This Recipe Sometime
Susan Stamberg has pushed her cranberry relish recipe for years. I finally made it this year, and it kicks ass. I have been thinking about making this for at least 10 years, I wish I had tried it sooner.
The relatively small amount of sugar and the horseradish make this relish more savory than sweet. The color is truly shocking. Stamberg compares it to pepto bismal, it reminded me of whipped up strawberry jello and dream whip. All credit for the recipe goes to Susan Stamberg.
Mama Stamberg's Cranberry Relish
2 cups whole raw cranberries, washed
1 small onion
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons horseradish from a jar ("red is a bit milder than white") I used the white horseradish, and it was fine.
Grind the raw berries and onion together. ("I use an old-fashioned meat grinder," says Stamberg. "I'm sure there's a setting on the food processor that will give you a chunky grind — not a puree.")
Add everything else and mix.
Put in a plastic container and freeze.
Early Thanksgiving morning, move it from freezer to refrigerator compartment to thaw. ("It should still have some little icy slivers left.")
The relish will be thick, creamy, and shocking pink. ("OK, Pepto Bismol pink. It has a tangy taste that cuts through and perks up the turkey and gravy. It's also good on next-day turkey sandwiches, and with roast beef.")
Makes 1 1/2 pints.
The relatively small amount of sugar and the horseradish make this relish more savory than sweet. The color is truly shocking. Stamberg compares it to pepto bismal, it reminded me of whipped up strawberry jello and dream whip. All credit for the recipe goes to Susan Stamberg.
Mama Stamberg's Cranberry Relish
2 cups whole raw cranberries, washed
1 small onion
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons horseradish from a jar ("red is a bit milder than white") I used the white horseradish, and it was fine.
Grind the raw berries and onion together. ("I use an old-fashioned meat grinder," says Stamberg. "I'm sure there's a setting on the food processor that will give you a chunky grind — not a puree.")
Add everything else and mix.
Put in a plastic container and freeze.
Early Thanksgiving morning, move it from freezer to refrigerator compartment to thaw. ("It should still have some little icy slivers left.")
The relish will be thick, creamy, and shocking pink. ("OK, Pepto Bismol pink. It has a tangy taste that cuts through and perks up the turkey and gravy. It's also good on next-day turkey sandwiches, and with roast beef.")
Makes 1 1/2 pints.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
When Financial Industrial Complex and the American Dream Collide
I watched a football game last Sunday. I noticed a repeated theme in the commercials from the Financial Industrial Complex, formerly known as the insurance and brokerage industries. What I heard seemed striking when compared to the insurance industry that employed me in the 1980s.
The Financial Industrial Complex of late identifies itself as a resource for “wealth management”.
In an article about U. S. wealth and income statistics , I found this interesting story:
“If you're not parked near the top of the ramp, you're of little or no interest to financial services firms and financial advisers. There's no money to be made at these levels. Last year, a handful of Wall Street firms told their brokers they would no longer receive commissions on accounts holding less than $50,000. This effectively tells people with nano-Numbers to get lost. But for the Wall Street firms, there's gold on the floors above. The greater the household assets, the more fees and transaction costs can be extracted from an account. The result is a flood of advertising that captures a lifestyle so gloriously affluent it's enough to make everybody feel poor.”
This is a major change in these industries from their founding values (at least those values presented through their Public Image machinery) which pretty much stayed in place from the late 19th through late in the 20th centuries.
Financial services are promoted by telling a “corporate story”, rather than playing up specific benefits of the contracts and services available. This indirect approach is driven by State and Federal laws which restrict the ability to promote investment or insurance contracts on radio or television. The advertisements present a very broad story, limited to (1) customer identification, (2) identifying the sponsoring Financial Services Firm, and (3) an extremely vague notion of the benefits the customer can anticipate by giving money to the Firm.
The 20th century story was (1) the customer is the American family. The narratives often followed a “journey through life” story, following a WASP family from cash strapped starter house life with babies through comfortable retirement surrounded by adoring grandchildren; (2) the advertisement usually characterized the sponsor as the friend and protector of the young family whose hands are firmly placed in the bootstraps by which they will pull themselves up; and (3) if the young couple behaves like good WASPs, and associates with the firm, they will be rewarded with a satisfying and abundant life.
Well, as we moved into the 21st century, the story has changed. (1) the customer is already sitting on a pile of money, which we politely call wealth; (2) the Financial Services Firm is a very powerful and impersonal corporate edifice, large and powerful beyond description; and (3) if you bring the Financial Services Firm into your life, the pile will get bigger and bigger.
Just another way of saying, “if you are not already rich, we don’t need you”. Besides, the middle class is totally so tiresome.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
The Financial Industrial Complex of late identifies itself as a resource for “wealth management”.
In an article about U. S. wealth and income statistics , I found this interesting story:
“If you're not parked near the top of the ramp, you're of little or no interest to financial services firms and financial advisers. There's no money to be made at these levels. Last year, a handful of Wall Street firms told their brokers they would no longer receive commissions on accounts holding less than $50,000. This effectively tells people with nano-Numbers to get lost. But for the Wall Street firms, there's gold on the floors above. The greater the household assets, the more fees and transaction costs can be extracted from an account. The result is a flood of advertising that captures a lifestyle so gloriously affluent it's enough to make everybody feel poor.”
This is a major change in these industries from their founding values (at least those values presented through their Public Image machinery) which pretty much stayed in place from the late 19th through late in the 20th centuries.
Financial services are promoted by telling a “corporate story”, rather than playing up specific benefits of the contracts and services available. This indirect approach is driven by State and Federal laws which restrict the ability to promote investment or insurance contracts on radio or television. The advertisements present a very broad story, limited to (1) customer identification, (2) identifying the sponsoring Financial Services Firm, and (3) an extremely vague notion of the benefits the customer can anticipate by giving money to the Firm.
The 20th century story was (1) the customer is the American family. The narratives often followed a “journey through life” story, following a WASP family from cash strapped starter house life with babies through comfortable retirement surrounded by adoring grandchildren; (2) the advertisement usually characterized the sponsor as the friend and protector of the young family whose hands are firmly placed in the bootstraps by which they will pull themselves up; and (3) if the young couple behaves like good WASPs, and associates with the firm, they will be rewarded with a satisfying and abundant life.
Well, as we moved into the 21st century, the story has changed. (1) the customer is already sitting on a pile of money, which we politely call wealth; (2) the Financial Services Firm is a very powerful and impersonal corporate edifice, large and powerful beyond description; and (3) if you bring the Financial Services Firm into your life, the pile will get bigger and bigger.
Just another way of saying, “if you are not already rich, we don’t need you”. Besides, the middle class is totally so tiresome.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
A Very Stupid Day
I can only describe yesterday as a very stupid day. Thanks to Google and the proliferation of stupid blogs, I am assured that I am not the only person who has the occasional Very Stupid Day.
The day started with discovering that the ceiling-mounted fluorescent lights in the kitchen aren’t working. I recalled having an electrician in to install the fixture, but I couldn’t find any records. I dragged Kathleen into the search. After about an hour, I recalled that the installation I remembered was in our house in Milwaukee, where we haven’t lived for about seven years. So goes the first Very Stupid Hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 1 – Replace all four tubes in the fixture. Drive to the local hardware store, find the right tubes, drive home, remove old tubes (fluorescent lights rarely can be fixed by replacing some rather than all of the tubes). Testing fluorescent lights can be tricky, because the mountings for the tubes (appropriately called tombstones) are pretty touchy. So I inserted and reinserted the tubes’ contacts several times. No luck still just getting a flicker. So went the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 2 – Having determined the problem was more than blown tubes, I went back the internet to find instructions for the next steps. I looked at several sets of instructions which for the most part contradicted each other, so I had to figure out a “consensus approach from about three DIY websites. So went the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 3 – Examined the wiring for visible bad connections. I removed the new tubes, and opened up the protective plate covering the ballasts and wiring. I am sure the protective covering is designed in some part top keep people like me away from the inner workings. HAH, I showed them! I looked at the wiring for about 10 minutes, gently pulling to test wires for faulty connections. All the connections looked OK to me. I wrote down the model numbers etc. on the ballasts, since after this test, it appears that the ballasts (really power transformers) are probably the problem. So goes the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 4 – Went to the home improvement big-box stores to figure out what to do next. Went to Home Depot, where I learned that (1) if I replace the entire fixture, I will need to special – order to get a fixture the same size as the current fixture. This means that replacing the fixture with a more reasonably priced fixture will require repainting the kitchen ceiling, or promising myself to never look up in the kitchen, and (2) ballasts vary in cost, from about $45 to $120 in total for the two ballasts I probably need to replace. Replacing the ballasts could cost more than replacing the entire lighting unit. Given that I don’t have the tools or the “know-how” to be sure of where the problem is located (power source versus ballasts versus tombstones), the next step will involve attempting to install a bunch of expensive components that I am not sure of how to select the right component, or how to install it correctly, without electrocution. I also visited Lowe’s to reinforce this conclusion. I realized that it was after 1:00 PM, so I stopped at a local taqueria for a burrito. I ate too much, but with little real consequence. So goes the next two hours of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 5 – I called Oleg the housepainter, who is our link into the world of reputible local Russian immigrant contractors (probably another Ivan or Vlad). He will call back today with a referral for an electrician. It was a very stupid day, because I could have just called Oleg at the beginning of all this, after the new tubes didn’t work.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
The day started with discovering that the ceiling-mounted fluorescent lights in the kitchen aren’t working. I recalled having an electrician in to install the fixture, but I couldn’t find any records. I dragged Kathleen into the search. After about an hour, I recalled that the installation I remembered was in our house in Milwaukee, where we haven’t lived for about seven years. So goes the first Very Stupid Hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 1 – Replace all four tubes in the fixture. Drive to the local hardware store, find the right tubes, drive home, remove old tubes (fluorescent lights rarely can be fixed by replacing some rather than all of the tubes). Testing fluorescent lights can be tricky, because the mountings for the tubes (appropriately called tombstones) are pretty touchy. So I inserted and reinserted the tubes’ contacts several times. No luck still just getting a flicker. So went the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 2 – Having determined the problem was more than blown tubes, I went back the internet to find instructions for the next steps. I looked at several sets of instructions which for the most part contradicted each other, so I had to figure out a “consensus approach from about three DIY websites. So went the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 3 – Examined the wiring for visible bad connections. I removed the new tubes, and opened up the protective plate covering the ballasts and wiring. I am sure the protective covering is designed in some part top keep people like me away from the inner workings. HAH, I showed them! I looked at the wiring for about 10 minutes, gently pulling to test wires for faulty connections. All the connections looked OK to me. I wrote down the model numbers etc. on the ballasts, since after this test, it appears that the ballasts (really power transformers) are probably the problem. So goes the next hour of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 4 – Went to the home improvement big-box stores to figure out what to do next. Went to Home Depot, where I learned that (1) if I replace the entire fixture, I will need to special – order to get a fixture the same size as the current fixture. This means that replacing the fixture with a more reasonably priced fixture will require repainting the kitchen ceiling, or promising myself to never look up in the kitchen, and (2) ballasts vary in cost, from about $45 to $120 in total for the two ballasts I probably need to replace. Replacing the ballasts could cost more than replacing the entire lighting unit. Given that I don’t have the tools or the “know-how” to be sure of where the problem is located (power source versus ballasts versus tombstones), the next step will involve attempting to install a bunch of expensive components that I am not sure of how to select the right component, or how to install it correctly, without electrocution. I also visited Lowe’s to reinforce this conclusion. I realized that it was after 1:00 PM, so I stopped at a local taqueria for a burrito. I ate too much, but with little real consequence. So goes the next two hours of the Very Stupid Day.
DIY Step 5 – I called Oleg the housepainter, who is our link into the world of reputible local Russian immigrant contractors (probably another Ivan or Vlad). He will call back today with a referral for an electrician. It was a very stupid day, because I could have just called Oleg at the beginning of all this, after the new tubes didn’t work.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Monday, November 05, 2007
The Beginning of the End
As is the case in much of Sacramento, our neighborhood has a lot of rats. Sometimes we can see them running on the telephone lines, like people in more wholesome environments see squirrels and chipmunks. I have learned to tolerate the rates, since we only seem to get a rat in the house once or twice every five years. When we get rats, they quickly succumb to traps baited with peanut butter.
However, a new twist has been added to the rat drama. FLEAS! Our neighborhood has been full of fleas this summer. I nearly contemplated giving up sandals. I have had to use Advantage on our indoor-only cat. The vet said fleas can jump onto the cat through screens when the cat sits in the window. The advantage is working great, I flea-combed the cat and she looks clean. Before using the medicine, the flea comb brought up lots of flea dirt and on live flea. We’ll re-apply the Advantage next month, and hopefully denying the inside-the-house fleas their nutrition for 2 months should take care of the problem.
So, it’s rats and fleas. Somehow, this doesn’t sound very good. Isn’t this how you get a bubonic plague outbreak? Just remember this, so that your last words gasped from your bubo–swollen lips will be, “I read about it first in Hangininsac.” That’s all I ask of you.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
However, a new twist has been added to the rat drama. FLEAS! Our neighborhood has been full of fleas this summer. I nearly contemplated giving up sandals. I have had to use Advantage on our indoor-only cat. The vet said fleas can jump onto the cat through screens when the cat sits in the window. The advantage is working great, I flea-combed the cat and she looks clean. Before using the medicine, the flea comb brought up lots of flea dirt and on live flea. We’ll re-apply the Advantage next month, and hopefully denying the inside-the-house fleas their nutrition for 2 months should take care of the problem.
So, it’s rats and fleas. Somehow, this doesn’t sound very good. Isn’t this how you get a bubonic plague outbreak? Just remember this, so that your last words gasped from your bubo–swollen lips will be, “I read about it first in Hangininsac.” That’s all I ask of you.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Like A Hole In The Head I Need This, Oy!
Dana Milbank, a columnist for the Washington Post had a somewhat tongue-in-cheek column about the American Enterprise institute (AEI) forum discussing claims of superior Jewish intelligence.
At first I thought this was some kind of joke, perhaps the Washington Post had a Halloween tradition like April Fools Day in other regions. Not so, Mr Smarty Pants Big Shot! The American Enterprise Institute, those wonderful people who brought us neoconservatism has published a book explaining claims of superior Jewish intelligence. Abraham’s Children discusses the link between observed above average IQ scores in Jews and some theory that this proves that Jews are truly a race apart and possibly the Chosen People after all. Jonboy appears to spend a lot of time and energy attempting to reinvent the concept of pure race, whose only imaginable use is a pseudo-scientific justification for racism. THE AEI website promises us this book is based on “breakthroughs in genetic genealogy” (sic). GENETIC GENEAOLOGY, WTF? No doubt they also used historical creationism, statistical numerology, and astrological astronomy in their study.
I did a little research to see what background Jon needed to manage “breakthroughs in genetic genealogy” (sic). Turns out all those PHD Students devoting their lives to academic studies of genetics and Mormons studying genealogy are wasting their time. Our boy Jonjon, according to his own website has no education outside of journalism and philosophy. His work experience appears to center around television production and writing books justifying old-time racism (e. g., Jews are smart weaklings, blacks are well suited to athletics, but not intellectual pursuits (see his previous book “Taboo”)).
The fact that these books, beyond being taken seriously, are usually best-sellers provides a very good example of the true cost of weak science education in our schools. However, the AEI’s publications and other odorous outbursts seem to get taken pretty seriously. After all, when you have John “Yosemite Sam” Bolton as your fellow fellow at the AEI, how could you be wrong?
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
At first I thought this was some kind of joke, perhaps the Washington Post had a Halloween tradition like April Fools Day in other regions. Not so, Mr Smarty Pants Big Shot! The American Enterprise Institute, those wonderful people who brought us neoconservatism has published a book explaining claims of superior Jewish intelligence. Abraham’s Children discusses the link between observed above average IQ scores in Jews and some theory that this proves that Jews are truly a race apart and possibly the Chosen People after all. Jonboy appears to spend a lot of time and energy attempting to reinvent the concept of pure race, whose only imaginable use is a pseudo-scientific justification for racism. THE AEI website promises us this book is based on “breakthroughs in genetic genealogy” (sic). GENETIC GENEAOLOGY, WTF? No doubt they also used historical creationism, statistical numerology, and astrological astronomy in their study.
I did a little research to see what background Jon needed to manage “breakthroughs in genetic genealogy” (sic). Turns out all those PHD Students devoting their lives to academic studies of genetics and Mormons studying genealogy are wasting their time. Our boy Jonjon, according to his own website has no education outside of journalism and philosophy. His work experience appears to center around television production and writing books justifying old-time racism (e. g., Jews are smart weaklings, blacks are well suited to athletics, but not intellectual pursuits (see his previous book “Taboo”)).
The fact that these books, beyond being taken seriously, are usually best-sellers provides a very good example of the true cost of weak science education in our schools. However, the AEI’s publications and other odorous outbursts seem to get taken pretty seriously. After all, when you have John “Yosemite Sam” Bolton as your fellow fellow at the AEI, how could you be wrong?
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
"Fat and Ugly" Rumors from the Blogosphere
Bad news for Disneyland fans. The It’s A Small World ride will be closed for about a year for retooling. From what I heard this afternoon on NPR, it appears now that Disney is admitting what the blogosphere has been saying for days - The boats are sinking under the heft of our fellow citizens.
Apparently, the boats were designed for couples weighing a total of 300 pounds or under. The engineers figured on 125 lbs for the woman and 175 for the man. In addition to larger couples, I guess they didn't anticipate Disneyland's gay-friendly atmosphere either (think about two 180 lb athletic guys in a boat).
The NPR report claimed the ride has been plagued with delays when the ride stops for a boat bottomed out on the flume. Heh, heh, bottomed out.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
PRESS RELEASE - From Hangininsac Tower, 1 Cyberpunk Plaza, Cyberspace
Hangininsac's senior management has completed its planning retreat.
We have unananimously decided this blog will envision clear objectives and develop and implement plans as carefully as I do in my own life. Why demand excellence when mediocraty will do?
However, in recognition of "National Writers' Month" in November, as well as scarcity of suitable paid employment, I will attempt to produce several blog entries each week. OK, so it's really "National Novel Writer's Month". Like heck I'll write a 175 page novel. I figure I will keep working on the blog, and write my masterpieces once this blog has established me as a cult hero master of cyberspace. Hell, if Wesley Friggin’ Crusher can pull it off, what the heck.
Apparently, the boats were designed for couples weighing a total of 300 pounds or under. The engineers figured on 125 lbs for the woman and 175 for the man. In addition to larger couples, I guess they didn't anticipate Disneyland's gay-friendly atmosphere either (think about two 180 lb athletic guys in a boat).
The NPR report claimed the ride has been plagued with delays when the ride stops for a boat bottomed out on the flume. Heh, heh, bottomed out.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
PRESS RELEASE - From Hangininsac Tower, 1 Cyberpunk Plaza, Cyberspace
Hangininsac's senior management has completed its planning retreat.
We have unananimously decided this blog will envision clear objectives and develop and implement plans as carefully as I do in my own life. Why demand excellence when mediocraty will do?
However, in recognition of "National Writers' Month" in November, as well as scarcity of suitable paid employment, I will attempt to produce several blog entries each week. OK, so it's really "National Novel Writer's Month". Like heck I'll write a 175 page novel. I figure I will keep working on the blog, and write my masterpieces once this blog has established me as a cult hero master of cyberspace. Hell, if Wesley Friggin’ Crusher can pull it off, what the heck.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Coming to Wisconsin
The
Airport
Terminal
For regional flights
O'Hare red hot reflux in crop
Plump and blond nasal cell phone intonation patterns
Still a couple of past due bleach blonds, Californeeya uber allis, it is said
Nothing new after all these years
Wisconsin preview
in O'Hare
Airport
Lounge.
Airport
Terminal
For regional flights
O'Hare red hot reflux in crop
Plump and blond nasal cell phone intonation patterns
Still a couple of past due bleach blonds, Californeeya uber allis, it is said
Nothing new after all these years
Wisconsin preview
in O'Hare
Airport
Lounge.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Hanging Loose and Lying Low
I am sitting in what is hopefully the ending days of a nasty cold. I feel a little distanced from the world, even though I stopped taking cold medicine today.
I really have to push myself to do anything. In my process of transitioning to slacker mode, I start to get worried that I’m acting like a depressed person, and then I remind myself about the cold. Hip Hip Hooray, I’m just under the weather, rather than nuts.
As I write this, I am listening to Frank Zappa. There’s a line from “200 Motels” I just love, “You go work for Zappa, and he makes you act like a creep. After that, no one will take you seriously. In this business, you gotta play the blues, or sing in a high voice.” Something about this reminds me of some of my work experiences.
Warning – whiney complaint follows:
This entry may get posted late, and there will be no hyperlinks, since we are having recurring phone line problems in the neighborhood. A couple of guys just showed up to look at the lines into the house. They look like complete idiots, given that several houses have problems, and they are in my back yard looking at the line to my house. One of the guys has a knit Raiders stocking cap pulled down low. He reminds me of Dumb Donald from the old Bill Cosby cartoons. The good news is that when I called the phone company to complain about the phones not working for nearly a week, they credited two months worth of free service to our account. Something similar happened in the area about 5 years ago. We lost phone service every time it rained for about a month. What a pain.
End of whiney complaint (unless I find something else to go on about)
I finished reading pretty good East Indian novel, “A Delicate Balance” by Mistry. I chose this books since the parents are reading it for their book club discussion next Monday, which I can attend. Also, I enjoy East Indian family dramas. This book is quite a bit darker than Vikram Seth’s stories. Just about every character comes to an unhappy ending. However, I found the drama to be gripping, in a mawkish way as I found myself turning the page to see what new misfortune was coming next.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I really have to push myself to do anything. In my process of transitioning to slacker mode, I start to get worried that I’m acting like a depressed person, and then I remind myself about the cold. Hip Hip Hooray, I’m just under the weather, rather than nuts.
As I write this, I am listening to Frank Zappa. There’s a line from “200 Motels” I just love, “You go work for Zappa, and he makes you act like a creep. After that, no one will take you seriously. In this business, you gotta play the blues, or sing in a high voice.” Something about this reminds me of some of my work experiences.
Warning – whiney complaint follows:
This entry may get posted late, and there will be no hyperlinks, since we are having recurring phone line problems in the neighborhood. A couple of guys just showed up to look at the lines into the house. They look like complete idiots, given that several houses have problems, and they are in my back yard looking at the line to my house. One of the guys has a knit Raiders stocking cap pulled down low. He reminds me of Dumb Donald from the old Bill Cosby cartoons. The good news is that when I called the phone company to complain about the phones not working for nearly a week, they credited two months worth of free service to our account. Something similar happened in the area about 5 years ago. We lost phone service every time it rained for about a month. What a pain.
End of whiney complaint (unless I find something else to go on about)
I finished reading pretty good East Indian novel, “A Delicate Balance” by Mistry. I chose this books since the parents are reading it for their book club discussion next Monday, which I can attend. Also, I enjoy East Indian family dramas. This book is quite a bit darker than Vikram Seth’s stories. Just about every character comes to an unhappy ending. However, I found the drama to be gripping, in a mawkish way as I found myself turning the page to see what new misfortune was coming next.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Department of the Dead
Zombies! Slow-minded, innumerate zombies!
As I’ve stepped away from my Government job, I feel like I somehow escaped before the authoritarian-pension-worshipping zombies ate my brain. There’s a story here. I see a struggle of punks versus civil service zombies. This has probably has been done already.
Speaking of zombies, check out this. Even though I didn’t see any reports of zombies infiltrating civil service through adherence to an anti-innumeracy cult, this website is pretty strange. It is somewhat comforting that I am not the only person seemingly obsessed with zombies. I looked through several pages that were prosaic at best, but the concept is a winner.
I can’t find anything about innumeracy half as interesting as Zombie World News. Everything I see treats innumeracy as an accident. What if innumeracy is actually the desire and result of a religious fundamentalist cult, like the biological science illiteracy that forms the basis of creationism? After all, numerate mathematics relies on several unproven facts called axioms. Being unproven, these axioms are no more fact than the theory of evolution. If God wanted His people to hold these axioms as true, they’d be revealed in the Holy Bible, rather than from the mouths of a bunch of bed sheet-wrapped pedophiles of the ancient world.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
As I’ve stepped away from my Government job, I feel like I somehow escaped before the authoritarian-pension-worshipping zombies ate my brain. There’s a story here. I see a struggle of punks versus civil service zombies. This has probably has been done already.
Speaking of zombies, check out this. Even though I didn’t see any reports of zombies infiltrating civil service through adherence to an anti-innumeracy cult, this website is pretty strange. It is somewhat comforting that I am not the only person seemingly obsessed with zombies. I looked through several pages that were prosaic at best, but the concept is a winner.
I can’t find anything about innumeracy half as interesting as Zombie World News. Everything I see treats innumeracy as an accident. What if innumeracy is actually the desire and result of a religious fundamentalist cult, like the biological science illiteracy that forms the basis of creationism? After all, numerate mathematics relies on several unproven facts called axioms. Being unproven, these axioms are no more fact than the theory of evolution. If God wanted His people to hold these axioms as true, they’d be revealed in the Holy Bible, rather than from the mouths of a bunch of bed sheet-wrapped pedophiles of the ancient world.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
I Prefer Not To
I Said “I prefer not to”, just like Melville's scrivener, Bartleby.
I finally left my job last Friday, after months of silently fighting the urge to gnaw off my leg and escape. I won't bore or scandalize everyone with the sordid details, however I am glad to say I left them wanting more of me, and should it be appropriate, I can probably return. At this point, I struggle to find a rational reason to do that, but you never know what the future holds.
I pop music terms, I think Bob Dylan
said it all.
“Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles”
I am glad to have this behind me for now. I am taking this week off from my own self-defined obligations. Next week I’ll start contacting people to attempt to work on a future for me. I spent Monday and Tuesday catching up on things around the house that I have been putting off, like record keeping and minor fence repairs. Today I took a long bike ride and goofed off the rest of the day. Tomorrow I will make bread and stock the freezer with beans and rice, and talk to some people about tutoring. I would like to start tutoring a few evenings pretty soon. I like earning some walking-around money while I get my act together.
The bike ride was great. I rode downtown and briefly visited some folks from the former work. I ended up having to go into the office, which was a mistake. One of the people I wanted to see was stuck in a “Drill” and couldn’t get away (for a change). It’s amazing when people are stuck on all sorts of immediate and urgent business, but they will stop and gab for twenty minutes. Next time it will be lunch or break at a safe distance. I felt like a freak, and some people who simply don’t get it begged me to come back in November or December. That was embarrassing. Aside from the office visit, the bike ride was great.
I am visiting the relatives in the old country later this month. That’s a great thing to do because none of us are getting younger these days. After that, my future starts.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I finally left my job last Friday, after months of silently fighting the urge to gnaw off my leg and escape. I won't bore or scandalize everyone with the sordid details, however I am glad to say I left them wanting more of me, and should it be appropriate, I can probably return. At this point, I struggle to find a rational reason to do that, but you never know what the future holds.
I pop music terms, I think Bob Dylan
said it all.
“Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles”
I am glad to have this behind me for now. I am taking this week off from my own self-defined obligations. Next week I’ll start contacting people to attempt to work on a future for me. I spent Monday and Tuesday catching up on things around the house that I have been putting off, like record keeping and minor fence repairs. Today I took a long bike ride and goofed off the rest of the day. Tomorrow I will make bread and stock the freezer with beans and rice, and talk to some people about tutoring. I would like to start tutoring a few evenings pretty soon. I like earning some walking-around money while I get my act together.
The bike ride was great. I rode downtown and briefly visited some folks from the former work. I ended up having to go into the office, which was a mistake. One of the people I wanted to see was stuck in a “Drill” and couldn’t get away (for a change). It’s amazing when people are stuck on all sorts of immediate and urgent business, but they will stop and gab for twenty minutes. Next time it will be lunch or break at a safe distance. I felt like a freak, and some people who simply don’t get it begged me to come back in November or December. That was embarrassing. Aside from the office visit, the bike ride was great.
I am visiting the relatives in the old country later this month. That’s a great thing to do because none of us are getting younger these days. After that, my future starts.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
I Am Tired
I have been feeling pretty tired lately, not sleeping very well lately. I didn’t do much this weekend, beyond the normal stuff; laundry and grilling meet for the week at the DMIL’s house. I need to up the activity level or else it is tough to find bloggable experiences.
We saw Escanaba in da Moonlight on DVD! It kicked ass! After all those years in Wisconsin, I finally understand what deer hunting is all about. I recommend this movie to any current or former Northern Midwesterner who wants a big yuck. There is no subpopulation better to showcase the surreal nature of life up north than the “yooppers” (that’s Michigan’s Upper Peninsula residents for you coastal types). One of the main characters is crazy Jim McGonahy from Menominee! Menominee is where my Mother started her childhood, until Grandma and Grandpa decided to become urbanites and moved to Wausau Wisconsin’s sprawling metropolis. I have always suspected the move to Wausau was motivated by its proximity to Chippewa Falls, site of the Leinenkugel’s Brewery. In another odd twist of fate, I was born in Wausau, although I never lived there. As you drive north, Wausau is at the point where the landscape changes from fields to woods.
Dis is da year for da Packers (OK, probably their year to disappoint even more than usual)! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
We saw Escanaba in da Moonlight on DVD! It kicked ass! After all those years in Wisconsin, I finally understand what deer hunting is all about. I recommend this movie to any current or former Northern Midwesterner who wants a big yuck. There is no subpopulation better to showcase the surreal nature of life up north than the “yooppers” (that’s Michigan’s Upper Peninsula residents for you coastal types). One of the main characters is crazy Jim McGonahy from Menominee! Menominee is where my Mother started her childhood, until Grandma and Grandpa decided to become urbanites and moved to Wausau Wisconsin’s sprawling metropolis. I have always suspected the move to Wausau was motivated by its proximity to Chippewa Falls, site of the Leinenkugel’s Brewery. In another odd twist of fate, I was born in Wausau, although I never lived there. As you drive north, Wausau is at the point where the landscape changes from fields to woods.
Dis is da year for da Packers (OK, probably their year to disappoint even more than usual)! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
The Revolution is not Being Televised
But, don't worry, Barbara Ehrenreich has the full story here!
Mass civil disobediance by protesters who refuse to "behave" by not making their mortgage payments. Between Sacramento and Stockton's leading roles in the protest, I proudly feel close to the center of the revolution.
POWER TO THE (soon to be homeless) People!
Mass civil disobediance by protesters who refuse to "behave" by not making their mortgage payments. Between Sacramento and Stockton's leading roles in the protest, I proudly feel close to the center of the revolution.
POWER TO THE (soon to be homeless) People!
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Modern Life What We’ve Become
Two household events this we’re dealing with this week leave me wondering, “what is going on in our country?”
First, on the lighter side, I received the music books I ordered last week via Express mail. Express mail is apparently the normal way to send anything through the US Mail. Regular mail is obviously too time-consuming. We are surely in a no-holds-barred hurry to get whatever we ordered.
The book I ordered, Der Fluyten Lust-Hof, is a reproduction of a second edition released in 1651, about 356 years ago. I can’t help but ask myself how strange it is to make the assumption that after 356 years, I need the book on Saturday rather than the following Thursday. If I look at his from just a few steps back, it is absurd. However, I was very happy to get the book yesterday, and I jumped right into it. I guess that makes me complicit in our shared twisted values.
First, on the lighter side, I received the music books I ordered last week via Express mail. Express mail is apparently the normal way to send anything through the US Mail. Regular mail is obviously too time-consuming. We are surely in a no-holds-barred hurry to get whatever we ordered.
The book I ordered, Der Fluyten Lust-Hof, is a reproduction of a second edition released in 1651, about 356 years ago. I can’t help but ask myself how strange it is to make the assumption that after 356 years, I need the book on Saturday rather than the following Thursday. If I look at his from just a few steps back, it is absurd. However, I was very happy to get the book yesterday, and I jumped right into it. I guess that makes me complicit in our shared twisted values.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Gold!
Kathleen and I started the morning with a short walk in a nature preserve by the American River. We saw the normal assortment of unidentifiable birds, mule deer, jackrabbits, rattlers (since moving here I have put behind me the urge to pick up every snake I see), frogs and turkeys (avian and mammal variety). We enjoyed the crisp and cool weather this morning.
History buffs may recognize the American River as the sight of John Sutter’s gold discovery that changed the course of history by bringing over 30,000 lightly armed Americans to Alta California in 1849. Although Sutter’s Mill is near Coloma, several miles uphill from Sacramento, some of the same rocks rolled down to the Sacramento Valley over the millennia.
What, might you ask, does this 19th century history review have to do with a walk in the riparian wilderness?
When walking near the river, I occasionally break a fist – sized quartz rock, to see what’s inside. Proving that even a stopped clock is right once in a while, I immediately saw yellow reflections of sunlight when I smashed a rock today. Very small glints of mineral sunshine scattered through the fracture . . . this . . . means . . . GOLD!
I carefully slipped the fractured rock into my pocket, mildly reminiscent of Virginia Woolf. However, I stayed on dry land. After all these years here, I finally feel connected with California’s cultural history of get-rich-quick schemes. Maybe next time I’ll find a floodplain real estate development. Who can tell, in this land of golden opportunity?
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
History buffs may recognize the American River as the sight of John Sutter’s gold discovery that changed the course of history by bringing over 30,000 lightly armed Americans to Alta California in 1849. Although Sutter’s Mill is near Coloma, several miles uphill from Sacramento, some of the same rocks rolled down to the Sacramento Valley over the millennia.
What, might you ask, does this 19th century history review have to do with a walk in the riparian wilderness?
When walking near the river, I occasionally break a fist – sized quartz rock, to see what’s inside. Proving that even a stopped clock is right once in a while, I immediately saw yellow reflections of sunlight when I smashed a rock today. Very small glints of mineral sunshine scattered through the fracture . . . this . . . means . . . GOLD!
I carefully slipped the fractured rock into my pocket, mildly reminiscent of Virginia Woolf. However, I stayed on dry land. After all these years here, I finally feel connected with California’s cultural history of get-rich-quick schemes. Maybe next time I’ll find a floodplain real estate development. Who can tell, in this land of golden opportunity?
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Blowin’ in the Wind
What do I like to do to relax and enjoy some downtime, and feel good about life, the universe and everything?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in my winds, the answer is blowing in my winds.
I picked up the clarinet from the music store yesterday, where it was staying for repairs. The entire overhaul was $50 (sweeeet!). They replaced a few pads under the keys so I won’t spray myself and others when I play C - sharps or use my trill keys. I can always play more in tune right after my once-every-5-years overhaul. For some reason, as things on the clarinet lose their alignment and fit less well, I creep sharp over time. I don’t know why.
While at the music store, I picked up a couple books of recorder music. I nabbed one small book of Bach Duets and an early music collection. The early collection has a complete solo score of one of my favorite piece, “Under the Linden Tree” (Onter der quack blah quack in Dutch) from Der Fluyten Lust-Hof by Jacob Van Eyck, everybody’s favorite 17th century blind Dutch composer. What’s actually pretty cool is that Der Fluyten Lust Hof means the Flute-Player’s Garden of Delights. Hey, click the “play sample" button on the website. I know you are dying to.
I will have to play this through a few dozen times to get everything consistently right. K likes this song, but I fear she may not like it so much by next week.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in my winds, the answer is blowing in my winds.
I picked up the clarinet from the music store yesterday, where it was staying for repairs. The entire overhaul was $50 (sweeeet!). They replaced a few pads under the keys so I won’t spray myself and others when I play C - sharps or use my trill keys. I can always play more in tune right after my once-every-5-years overhaul. For some reason, as things on the clarinet lose their alignment and fit less well, I creep sharp over time. I don’t know why.
While at the music store, I picked up a couple books of recorder music. I nabbed one small book of Bach Duets and an early music collection. The early collection has a complete solo score of one of my favorite piece, “Under the Linden Tree” (Onter der quack blah quack in Dutch) from Der Fluyten Lust-Hof by Jacob Van Eyck, everybody’s favorite 17th century blind Dutch composer. What’s actually pretty cool is that Der Fluyten Lust Hof means the Flute-Player’s Garden of Delights. Hey, click the “play sample" button on the website. I know you are dying to.
I will have to play this through a few dozen times to get everything consistently right. K likes this song, but I fear she may not like it so much by next week.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
About Me
- Steve
- I must enjoy shouting into a vacuum, but I think about getting my act together one of these days. My mom says I am very handsome and intelligent.
