Mark Twain, 30 de noviembre 1835 – 21 de abril 1910
imagen tomada de The Catalyst

Humorista, escritor y crítico mordaz.
Y además, ¡un genio! por amar a los gatos.

¡ Es viernes !

The miracle in question was only performed to hasten the operation, under circumstances of present necessity, which required it. -Ben Franklin

Finished that belated, beloved, beleaguering NaNoWriMo contest at 50,267 words. What can I say: thanks to the divine. Amen to my mom and dad. Blessings to the organisers. Yiiipppeeehs and Yaya-cries to the other writers and GoGoGoGo to those who’re still slaving away at it! Exclamation mark time! Now I need to shake it all off and wipe my boots clean. A winner all the same.

Actually, I can’t believe I am writing again already! Worse: I am already thinking about the next novel! It happened in the car as I was listening to the intoxicating Jim Norton reading Ulysses…and I have plans for video and podcasts – on the last day, I even managed to record a novel excerpt as a podcast – you know how much I like La Voce. Divas. Verdi. La Callas. Aww.

What it meant: I am now estranged from Ms Flawnt. Fortunate for me, she is the forgiving type (though she doesn’t know it – that’s even better). Our daughter has begun to call me ‘mummy’ because, evidently, she has suppressed all memory that she has a father (that used to be me before nano). I haven’t been around much in SecondLife®…the chat’s too good there, too many distractions, and, as Mark Twain says, only swiftness in banging the keys counts. Hence, not much remains of this writer’s virtuality…one of the many things to be picked up again in December, and also, there is Black Friday to consider (less of a tragic, torturous event on the Old Continent, but still, who are we without regular, life-affirming, mind-numbing consumption).

Banging builds muscle, but...

‘Banging’ was my original title for this piece, but it’s perhaps not as relevant as its current title, ‘manifesting’. In previous reviews of my path through NaNoWriMo jungle, machete in hand, rubber boots on my feet, a turban slung around my head (aching from plot twisters), I have discussed gathering yer wits, digesting yer innards, listening to yerself…in the last week, I found that the hour of manifestion had come: I see manifestation as the ability to make something happen by drawing on all your resources, not just that clever little brain of ours, caffeine and nicotine drenched as it is in my case.

...only manifestation can make miracles happen.

On that last day, I needed a small miracle to finish: word count was good, but my characters were fighting with each other for my attention, besides my original heroine, another one, her opposite in every way, had appeared and captured the heart of my main character (MC), and even the MC’s lofty priority position was threatened by a character, who, in the course of several chapters, had shown staying power and an uncanny ability to hold the story together by its very presence. Even the location was in serious jeopardy: I had started in London, but about half way through the novel, my main cast relocated to a castle in the Scottish Highlands – should I lure them away from there for the grand finish (which I always imagined in a trendy city venue, or trust them? To put it shortly: I did not count on miracles though I felt I needed one. I was planning a major military operation dominated by me as field marshal, and I envisioned myself on a hill, leaning on a cannon, mumbling phyrrically: „Another victory like this and we’re done for.”

OK. Lemme put all this behind me. Rumour has it, that I’m being missed under Milk Wood, which is where I live. It’s time to return for timeless chat, banter and a small, measured amount of words every day, but not 1,667 (the required daily amount for NaNoWriMo). I have vowed to put the manuscript in a drawer for at least one month while I rebuild relationships with Ms Flawnt and with Little Miss Flawnt. I am daunted by the task of editing the beast. If you do, too, write to me and we shall whine side by side.

Virtually yours,
Flawnt Alchemi

Along with Halloween, Thanksgiving is one of those events in the US that people elsewhere seem to know very little about, except from what we see on the TV and in the papers.

Currently celebrated on the fourth Thursday in November, Thanksgiving has been an annual tradition in the United States since 1863, but did not become a federal holiday until 1941.

Modern Thanksgiving tradition traces its origins to a 1621 celebration at the Plymouth Plantation. The Pilgrims were unable to cultivate their usual crops and were saved from almost certain starvation by Squanto, a Patuxet Native American who resided with the Wampanoag tribe. He taught them how to catch eel and grow corn and served as an interpreter for them (Squanto had learned English while enslaved in Europe and during travels in England). After their first successful harvest, the Plymouth settlers held a feast to celebrate the event and to give thanks to God for helping them survive the brutal winter. At the time, this was not regarded as a Thanksgiving observance; harvest festivals existed in English and Wampanoag tradition alike. This “First Thanksgiving” lasted three days, providing enough food for 53 pilgrims and 90 Indians. The feast consisted of fowl, venison, fish, lobster, clams, berries, fruit, pumpkin, and squash. However, the traditional Thanksgiving menu often features turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie.

You can read more about the different traditions here.

To end with, two different views of Thanksgiving, firstly, from Mark Twain:

Thanksgiving Day, a function which originated in New England two or three centuries ago when those people recognized that they really had something to be thankful for — annually, not oftener — if they had succeeded in exterminating their neighbors, the Indians, during the previous twelve months instead of getting exterminated by their neighbors, the Indians. Thanksgiving Day became a habit, for the reason that in the course of time, as the years drifted on, it was perceived that the exterminating had ceased to be mutual and was all on the white man’s side, consequently on the Lord’s side; hence it was proper to thank the Lord for it and extend the usual annual compliments.

and a more modern cultural observation from The Governator himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger:

I love Thanksgiving turkey… it’s the only time in Los Angeles that you see natural breasts.

Have fun!

———————–

Strange Random Language Fact:

In Vulcan, Alberta, Canada, the tourist welcome sign is written in both English and Klingon (alien language from “Star Trek”).

“Dadme un punto de apoyo”, dijo Arquímedes, “y moveré el mundo”. El no tuvo temor en decirlo porque sabia que nunca le darían el punto de apoyo. Pero, supongamos que hubiese movido el mundo, que habría sucedido? ¿Que beneficio se hubiera recibido? Con seguridad que ese trabajito no habría pagado dividendos, ni siquiera los gastos, y entonces ¿para que hablar de eso? De acuerdo con lo que dicen los astrónomos, la tierra ya se mueve lo suficiente rápido, y si hay algunos insatisfechos, que empujen ellos, yo por mi parte no ayudo.

Jamás he podido saber por que tuvieron por un genio a Arquímedes: nunca he oído que fue capaz de inventar una pila o algo que valiese la pena. En cuanto al último contrato que hizo, que fracaso! Se comprometió a proteger a Siracusa de los romanos y ensayo todas las trampas habidas y por haber, pero los romanos entraron a la ciudad y cuando la lucha se hizo cuerpo a cuerpo un soldadito acabo con sus pretensiones.

Evidentemente lo creían mas de lo que en realidad era. Tenia la costumbre de hablar mucho acerca de sus tornillos y palancas pero sus conocimientos de mecánica eran muy limitados. Yo nunca me he creído un genio y sin embargo conozco una fuerza mas poderosa que la que se pudiera imaginar ese hablador de Siracusa. Es la fuerza del control de la tierra: es un tornillo y palanca en una sola pieza. Le extrae hasta el último centavo del bolsillo a un hombre y dobla todo lo que existe sobre la tierra a voluntad.

Dadme la tierra como propiedad privada, y moveré el mundo? No señor, haré mucho más que eso. Esclavizare a todos los hombres y sería un idiota si los esclavizara como antes y tuviera que estar curándoles las heridas, cuidando de ellos todo el tiempo y dándoles látigo para hacerlos trabajar. Bajo mi sistema los tontos esos se la pasarán creyendo que son libres, los haría trabajar más que nunca y sin tener yo la mas mínima responsabilidad. Ellos cultivarían la tierra, extraerían metales preciosos de sus entrañas, construirían ferrocarriles y líneas telefónicas, sus barcos navegarían los océanos, trabajarían, inventarían cosas, sus depósitos se llenarían de mercancías, sus mercados abundarían en todo y lo bueno de esto sería que todo ello me pertenecería!

Mire usted como serian las cosas: si yo fuera el dueño de la tierra, tendrían que pagarme renta, pues no seria razonable que esperaran la utilización del mundo sin pagar. Yo no soy un hombre sin corazón, y para fijar la renta lo dejaría en manos de ellos mismos. Podría ser más justo?

Pensemos en una extensión de tierra, digamos una granja o un solar central o cualquier otro. Si hubiera un solo interesado no me daría mucho por ella, pero habiendo varios, competirían unos con otros y yo aceptaría la mejor oferta. ¿Qué hay de malo en ello? Con el aumento de población, con el desarrollo del comercio y la industria, con el avance en las artes y en las ciencias, se aumentaría el valor de la tierra como todos ustedes saben, y la competencia elevaría la renta tanto que en la mayoría de los casos se llevaría casi todas las ganancias de quienes la ocupasen.

En estas condiciones algunos de los más desafortunados comenzarían a pedir prestado y a otros se les metería en la cabeza que tal vez con un poco más de capital podrían aumentar sus negocios y hacerlos mas productivos. Aquí aparecería yo en ayuda del necesitado: como soy un benefactor de la raza humana, tendría que ayudarles. Con mis entradas podría prestarles hasta donde les alcanzase el respaldo, no creo que esperasen mas de mi, y en cuanto al interés, sería igualmente generoso.

La rata de interés la fijarían ellos mismos de igual manera que fijaron La renta. Así los tendría bajo mi control y si se atrasasen en los pagos vendería sus prendas! Podrían quejarse, pero negocio es negocio! Han debido trabajar mas intensamente y ahorrar un poco más! Cualquier cosa que pasase el problema seria de ellos, no mío.

Como disfrutaría yo de la vida! Rentas e intereses, limitados solo por la capacidad de pago de los clientes!

Las rentas subirían y subirían, y ellos continuarían empeñándose e hipotecando sus cosas, y uno a uno caerían en bancarrota. Que espectáculo! Así, con la sola palanca del control de la tierra, no sólo la tierra sino todo en ella me pertenecería. Yo sería el amo de todos y el resto de la humanidad esclavos complacientes.

No seria necesario decirlo, pero de acuerdo con mi posición no estaría bien el que yo me asociase con gente común. Sé que no es muy diplomático decirlo pero a mi no me gusta trabajar y no me aguanto el olor de los que trabajan. Por encima de los pacientes trabajadores establecería un círculo de aduladores míos: los escogería yo mismo y los llenaría de medallas y títulos para calmar su vanidad; para ellos seria un honor besar mi mano y rendirían tributo hasta a la silla en que me sentase: hombres valientes morirían por mi, sacerdotes rezarían por mi y me rodearía de encantos femeninos.

Para el manejo de la administración pública tendría un parlamento y para mantener la ley y el orden un ejército y una policía: Todos jurarían servirme fielmente. No les pagaría mayor cosa y su alto sentido del deber seria garantía de que cumplirían su contrato.

Fuera del círculo privilegiado de mi sociedad habría otros presionando por servirme, y por fuera de estos otros que tratarían de llegar a la posición de los que estarían en frente, sin que lo lograsen jamás, y así sucesivamente hasta llegar a los obreros que trabajarían todo el tiempo tratando de sobrevivir y rodeados por el infierno de la pobreza.

Este infierno de pobreza, esa oscuridad donde solo se oyen lamentos y sollozos y crujir de dientes, seria mas efectivo que el látigo, no les daría descanso durante el día, los perseguiría en sus sueños, les chuparía sin piedad la sangre de sus venas y los seguiría sin descanso hasta la muerte. En su juventud habría muchos que se llenarían de esperanzas, pero a medida que avanzasen en la vida encontrarían desilusión tras desilusión, y la esperanza se tornaría en desespero, la copa de felicidad prometida se volvería amarga, y el amor más sagrado se convertiría en flecha que envenenaría el corazón.

Que espectáculo más bello ambición al frente, necesidad y temor atrás. Y en la confusión, en la competencia, en el rencor entre los hombres yo no tomaría parte alguna. Todos mentirían y robarían, los patrones serian rudos, los sirvientes deshonestos, tendríamos huelgas y asaltos, venganzas familiares y carroñas sin fin, pero yo permanecería aparte. En la serena atmósfera de mi paraíso terrestre, estaría libre de todo mal. Comería las mejores viandas, bebería vinos escogidos, mis jardines serían magníficos. Saldría a pasear bajo la sombra de los árboles, y serían mis compañeros las flores, el trinar de los pájaros, el murmullo de las fuentes y el salpicar del agua; mi palacio tendría muros de alabastro y cúpula de cristal, nobiliario exquisito, tapetes y gobelinos de seda, pinturas y esculturas que fueran obras de arte, vasijas de oro y de plata, piedras preciosas brillarían por doquier, música angelical, perfume de rosas y una constelación de hembras que estimulasen y satisficiesen mis deseos. Así pasaría las horas felices de mi vida y el mundo respetaría mis virtudes, y se cantarían himnos de alabanza en mi nombre.

Arquímedes nunca soñó algo semejante. Sin embargo, con la tierra como apoyo y el control de la tierra como palanca, es posible. Y si alguien me dijese que algún día descubrirían el fraude y me castigarían junto con mis parásitos, les diría: “Nada de eso pasara, la gente es tan buena como el oro, soportarán todo como una roca, y si no me creen, miren lo que está pasando ahora”.

“Lies, damned lies, and statistics” is the persuasive power of numbers, particularly the use of statistics to bolster weak arguments, and the tendency of people to disparage statistics that do not support their positions.

The term is part of a phrase attributed to the 19th Century British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, among others, and later popularized in the United States by, among others, Mark Twain: “There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.” The phrase is not found in Disraeli’s works nor is it known within his lifetime and for years afterward. Many coiners have been proposed. The most plausible, on current evidence, is Charles Wentworth Dilke (1843-1911).

In the business of marketing, the first stage is to look for data that would be in alignment with the PURPOSE. It is not an effort at ascertain the “FACTS”, for the sake of  arriving at the “TRUTH”. The purpose colours one’s collection of data, interpretation and the formulation of the hypothesis and final presentation as the TRUTH. Many business consulting agencies have cropped up proffering advice to its clients, and such “Advice”  becomes the bedrock of the Company’s strategy. The latest assault carried out by Gillette in the marketing of its shaving products follows the above mentioned path. TIMES OF INDIA, dated 25/11/09 (Bangalore Edition) has front-paged the following news item.

A survey was carried out by AC Nielsen and Gillette Mach III and it was reported that Indian women in the metro cities like Mumbai, Ahmedabad, Delhi, Lucknow, Chennai, Bangalore, Kolkatta and Patna praised actors Shah Rukh Khan and Shahid Kapoor in clean shaved faced looks. Only 8 % of the women said that they loved Shah Rukh Khan’s unshaven look in “Chak De India.”

In the report, Patna has been included in the list of METRO CITIES of India. This is the first time that i am intimated that Patna has become a METROPOLITAN city!!! Besides this glaring non-factual assertion, the report generalizes the “PREFERENCE OF INDIAN WOMEN.”  If they had left out Madras, i’d have been happy. I know for a fact that Shah Rukh Khan is not a celebrity in Chennai as much as even the second grade Actors and Actresses of the Thamizh cinema,  leave alone the big names like Rajnikanth , Kamal Haasan, Surya, Dhanush, Simbu etc. In the list mentioned above except for Surya and Dhanush all the other  actors sport a moustache. To bring in Shah Rukh Khan into the assessment in Chennai is ill-fitting to the core.

WHAT WOMEN WANT, is a package deal. Women using their influence subsequent to the acquisition of a boy-friend/husband could always influence the man to doff or don a mooch. It is not that important, that the mooch is an integrally inalienable part of the chosen  man. It is AT WILL that it could be removed or sported.

I see this whole exercise by AC Nielsen and Gillette Mach III as nothing but CHERRY PICKING of the sampling lot by AC NIELSEN to support the business of its client Gillette! I reproduce herebelow the stated objectives of AC NIELSEN from its own company profile available in the internet:-

Our full range of modelling & analytical services integrate information from multiple sources and transform data into strategic insights and tactical recommendations. Data sources include detailed retail measurement information, consumer purchasing information, media measurement information, customised research and virtually any other source that can be quantified from a client’s own or other external sources.

These recommendations given to their clients get bandied about as TRUTHS, and even become the pillars of the arguments of some half-baked TRUTH SEEKERS.

The statistical data collected, collated, analyzed and disseminated as TRUTHS are nothing but the lowest  for of LIES, as DISRAELI had so rightly said more than a century back. Only a JEW could have said that. A Mark Twain could have popularized it, in the American tradition, but it is the JEW who himself is surrounded by the LIE MANUFACTURING Caiaphases who could have been this perceptive in distilling the essential TRUTH.

Let us look at the whole assertion logically. Would GILLETTE have gained if AC NIELSEN had come up with a report that bearded and moustached individuals fared better with the fair sex? I suppose not. Therefore buttress a pre-desired objective with half-baked REPORTS and use the money muscle to get them published in the Newspapers.

TRUE EDUCATION IS ALSO TO DISTINGUISH FACTS FROM DATA, AND SEE THE MIND OF THE HANDS THAT FEED THE CONSULTING AGENCIES!!

By Stephanie Young, Vice President BNI Success Connection

What are you passionate enough to fight for?  Do you have what it takes to stay the course?  My first inclination when asked to write this BlogSpot was to turn tail and run in the other direction.  Why, you ask? Here’s why, because I have never been asked to write a darn thing before and how could my director possibly know that I had it in me to do this? She does however, have an uncanny way or sense of seeing past the hard shell of insecurity to the soft, sweet, gooey center that represents triumph in the end.  Today, during our monthly leadership team meeting, our team was reflecting on the chapter’s current condition and how we might move into a new season of growth. Matter of fact, during our exchange, I threw out the old cliché coined by Mark Twain (which has become the title of this piece) “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog.” After hearing this, it prompted my director to ask me (yikes!) to write a blog around the saying.

This brings me back again to the question, “What are you passionate enough to fight for?” What the heck is so important in life that you will risk embarrassing yourself for, being transparent for, risking fear, shame, or humiliation for?

Depending on your sphere of influence or circle of friends, the prior comments may not even be an issue for you.  You may be so secure with yourself that you have no fear of rejection, have never felt fear or humiliation, but even for you; the question that still needs an answer is “What are you passionate enough to fight for?” Or better yet, stick your neck out for? Are you the tough big dog that’s all bark or are you the scruffy little fella who wants to take on the world!  I say, be the scruffy little fella.  While onlookers are saying “awwww, look at the scruffy little fella, how cute!” you’ve got your teeth in the big dog’s tushie and you’ve overtaken him (metaphorically speaking, of course).  Do you, big dog, have the tenacity of the little dog? Are you willing to give of your time, energy and resources to help other little dogs (and big dogs) move forward and become successful in their endeavors no matter what? There are some that will take up the little dog mantle. They will help them conquer their fear of speaking in front of others, they will become selfless, and they will want to share in the greater good. They will become “passionate” about helping others in any way they can. They will participate in activities without fear of looking silly.

What does all this have to do with BNI?
BNI is an organization for the person that’s willing to fight through the visibility stage, fight their way through the credibility stage, all while managing to learn about other members and their businesses. They bite off and give big referrals and expect nothing in return. They participate in chapter growth. They are ambitious, welcome challenges and offer solutions. In turn, they are victorious (and prosperous)!

Thea Westra (Forward Steps) says: “Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. When you are seeking to bring big plans to fruition, it is important with whom you regularly associate. Hang out with friends who are like-minded and who are also designing purpose-filled lives. Similarly, be that kind of a friend for your friends”. (Birds of a feather? … another topic for another time?)
So…How did I do?

Stephanie Young of Ecoquest International is a proud member of BNI Success Connection. She can be reached at 213 221-0811 pr via email at: singzhzprzs@live.com

“…this curious & pathetic fact of life: that when parents are old & their children grown up, the grown-up children are not the persons they formerly were; that their former selves have wandered away, never to return again, save in dream-glimpses of their young forms that tarry a moment & gladden the eye, then vanish & break the heart.”—-Mark Twain

As a grandparent, this quote has become more and more poignant as the years speed by.  I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to “relive” through my grandchildren’s lives those moments that perhaps I was too harried or ignorant to recognize and enjoy as a parent.  Parents are often caught up in the race to the next milestone:  that first step—check; those first words—check; the first day of pre-school—check.  We always have our eyes on the future and before we know it—it’s here.  But in the meantime, that child we were in such a hurry to move along to the next level is “gone”—only to be seen and remembered in photos, and nowadays, captured in videos.  It’s not the same. 

Sometimes I laugh as I find myself peering at my grown children and wondering “Who are you?” and “What have you done with the kid I used to know?”  Both of my children have turned out to be successful individuals in life and I’m extremely proud of them, but there is a sense of loss for the goofy kids I knew when they were little which overtakes me at times. 

This is where being a grandparent is a bittersweet experience.  From the vantage point of going through parenthood and emerging on the other side somewhat unscathed, I can appreciate what is and what isn’t important in raising kids.  Don’t sweat the small stuff, in other words. 

But I also acknowledge the fact that these happy times with them will vanish before too long.  Before much more time passes they will have friends of their own they would rather be with and other interests besides the ones that please them now.  Going to McDonald’s for dinner on Saturday nights with Memaw and Pappy will pale in comparison to going to the movies with friends.  That’s inevitable. 

So I try to enjoy every moment with them, even as I watch them grow taller and more mature as each day passes.  And I will be doubly blessed if, someday, I’m lucky enough to see their children, my great-grandchildren, and be able to sweetly recall their parents’ childhood selves, if only in dream-glimpses.

In an earlier post, I quoted from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to illustrate the meaning of “fantods.” In skimming through the book to find that quote, I was reminded so strongly how much joy Twain took in the sheer inventiveness of his language that I sat down to re-read the whole novel.

Near the end, those two unscrupulous crooks and hypocrites, the King and the Duke, pretend to be the long-lost brothers of a man who was recently deceased (or “diseased,” as Huck says) in the hopes of stealing the fortune he has left. To make their claims plausible, they present themselves to his family and friends ostentatiously weeping and grieving—“full of tears and flapdoodle,” as Twain says.

In our own time, we’ve been subjected by celebrities and politicians—from Jimmy Swaggart to Mark Sanford and Glenn Beck—to so many egregious public displays of “tears and flapdoodle” that I hope we can resuscitate this wonderful phrase and get it back into circulation. I’m sure we’ll have many more opportunities.

–Dennis

I traveled to Hartford, Connecticut, last week for a National Association for Interpretation conference. It was interesting.

Friday, though, Tiffany and I attended an off-site session at the Mark Twain House. That was simply one of the most impressive historic houses I’ve ever seen. Apparently, the old man sank all his money into having it buildt and decorated, and it really shows. Don’t worry, though–he made more money (and lost it again, and got it back again still).

Unfortunately, they didn’t allow photography inside the house. Harriet Beecher Stowe’s house across the lawn permitted photography, but having seen Twain’s stunning old haunt left Stowe’s residence decidedly lacking.

The Mark Twain House, as seen from Harriet Beecher Stowe's lawn.

Scranton, Pennsylvania, at the intersection of I-81 and I-84, was along the way, so we stopped. The people of Scranton couldn’t care less if you photograph them.

We stopped Sunday on the way back, to grab some lunch at the Glider Diner and take a look around. Back in 2001, a writer from the Washington Post declared that Scranton was “awful,” but I didn’t see why. The town definitely had some scruffy neighborhoods, but seeing as it’s a blue collar kinda place, who cares. I think the town is great, judging by what I saw. It reminds me of Charleston, actually, if a little bigger.

But yes, we took a short tour of Scranton landmarks a la The Office. So yes, we had to stop at the Mall at Steamtown and take a picture of this:

Luckily, the Mall at Steamtown was next to the Steamtown National Historic Site, and though we didn’t have time to go explore it (or the adjacent Electric City Trolley Museum), we did cross a walkway and look around an ancient, still active railroad yard. It was great.

We also stopped by Poor Richard’s Pub for a drink. Well, I had a drink. Tiffany was driving.

Idag är det en månad kvar till julafton. En månad! Det känns ju hur konstigt som helst, vart tog den här hösten vägen? Julen i år kommer bli en konstig högtid, utan pappa, utan oro och dåligt samvete. Men det är en tid då man ska umgås med familj och vänner, vilket jag absolut kommer få göra, och kanske till och med njuta lite av att det är jul?

Perrin längtar inte efter julen/vintern

Just nu slåss mina intressen lite mot varandra, mina intressen för vad jag vill göra that is. Det enda jag vet riktigt säkert är att jag väldigt gärna skulle vilja ha ett jobb så jag kunde få lite ordning på min ekonomi igen. Jag är bra på att hålla reda på pengarna, men det spelar ju ingen roll om det inte någonsin kommer in några… Och det börjar kännas nu. I och för sig verkar det finnas människor i min närhet som kan tänka sig att se till att jag överlever det i alla fall, men det är aldrig roligt att leva på andra. Jag tycker om att vara självständig och kunna ta hand om mig själv till viss del, även om jag just nu har fått upp ögonen lite för hur det skulle kunna vara att behöva ta lite mer hänsyn till någon annan. Det är definitivt något som jag skulle kunna vänja mig vid.

“Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today”
- Mark Twain

It is best to keep your mouth shut and be presumed ignorant than to open it and remove all doubt.

Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to.

“Be Yourself” is about the worst advice you can give to people.

I respect a man who knows how to spell a word more than one way.

In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French; I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their language.

I was gratified to be able to answer promptly, and I did. I said I didn’t know.

Jacobpedia had a lot of traffic over the weekend thanks to Dino Soldo linking to my post about him.  I may not care for his playing, but he appears to be an alright guy.  He must not take himself too seriously if he considers my post the “most entertaining review” of himself that he’s seen.  In some ways, it blows my mind that I wrote something about Soldo, and he found it in less than twelve hours.  This could never have happened fifteen years ago.  Here are some links while I contemplate the magic of the internet:

• Drag City has released a new recording of “Death to Everyone” by Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and the Picket Line.  It is from the sessions that will appear next month as Funtown Comedown, but it’s not going to be on the album.  Get it while it’s hot.
• Spanish newspaper The Leader reports that excavators have uncovered the first human remains at the site where Federico Garcia Lorca is believed to be buried.
• Last week, Keith Law revealed the Klaw 101, his list of his top 101 works of fiction.  Klaw makes his living writing about baseball for ESPN, but his book reviews on his personal blog are as good as just about anyone’s.
• One man’s forgotten Revolutionary War hero is another man’s early republic screw-up.  Arthur St. Clair would probably be better remembered if he had died in 1789 rather than in 1818.
• If Poisoned Pens is anywhere near as funny as the excerpts in Alexander Theroux’s review of it, it’s a must read.  One of the highlights is Mark Twain’s comment on Jane Austen: “Every time I read ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shin-bone.”  Let’s hope no one tries to pull that with Garcia Lorca’s bones.
• And, Bob Dylan’s new music video is more entertaining than anyone could have reasonably expected.

Oh, I know we live in a society where body image is paramount and you’re either thin or you’re irrelevant.  And yes, given that we are amongst the top ten fattest nations in the world, we should be weight conscious and not indulge in abnormal eating habits, but exercise regularly and all that. Certainly, we should sublimate our gashmius (physicality) to the higher functions of our being …

Yet, every once in a while – I propose – coddling the inner child is a laudable, valuable, action. Granted, nothing bests the sweet taam (taste) of Shabbos nor the sound of zmiros lifting you ever higher, but the occasional escape into corporeal weekday bliss, leaving the emotional and physical overload of life’s daily grind behind, is a good thing.

The hustle and harried hurry of our fast, frequently faceless, hi-tech daily drudgery makes it difficult to be in the moment of any one thing.  So, we often have to steal or create a moment for ourselves. One of my favorite ways to seize that special particle of time is by dining out in style. Dress up or down, whichever makes you feel better, and figure out the type of cuisine you’re in the mood for. Personally, I prefer an eatery that exudes calm and soft lighting; where chef and staff wait on you indulgently, presenting the finest service and cuisine they have to offer. Hopefully, you’re in the company of someone you really want to be with during this stolen moment.

If you can, leave the kids at home, shut the intruder cell phone, sit back, relax, breathe in, and give yourself over to the sensory delights to come. Start off with a good wine that has some personality, one that complements your disposition. Perhaps a deeply aromatic contemplative wine like one of the following:
Makhpelah Cabernet/Merlot 2002 from Israel, only a few hundred cases were produced! This wine combines spicy aromas with a touch of vanilla and smoky oak. The well-balanced palate is soft and rich with plum and dark cherry flavors highlighted by fine tannins. For that extra,extra, special occasion, it’s a bit pricey! For the more price conscious, but still very discriminate wine palate, I recommend any of these, Italy’s Borgo Reale – Primitivo di Manduria 2001; France’s Flegman – Merlot 2006, or a South African Rothberg Cellar – Shiraz 2008. Frankly, there are far too many superb kosher wines to fit every mood, every palate, every occasion. You can find the above and hundreds more, at Liquors Galore (1212 Avenue J; Brooklyn, NY 11230; Telephone: 718.333.4168).

Take in the calming scent of the wine’s perfume; delight in each sip, savoring the rich flavor, allowing your palate to pick up its complex symmetry. Let your body relax, as the liquid soporific hits your bloodstream.

For starters, I recommend choosing an appetizer or salad that you’ve never tried before like Orchideä’s Spring Fling Salad; perhaps something like T Fusion’s Pan Seared Sweetbreads or Solo’s Barbeque Short Rib Spring Roll. Discern the distinctive flavors within. Redefine your stomach’s state of satiety by trading quantity with quality and variety of taste. Allow the sensual mixing of fresh textures and subtle tones and spices on your tongue and taste buds. Observe the placement of food, the artistry and color and let it become a true binge of the senses.

For the main dish, if you’re watching those calories, pick a fish or chicken dish prepared in a way you’ve never tasted or wouldn’t make at home. when it comes to fish few can beat the imagination or IMITATE the meat-like look and taste at Plaza Dining (downstairs at Boro Park’s Plaza Hotel). If you’re a meat lover like I am, go for the steak if it’s really what you’ve got the yen for.

We particularly enjoyed Prime Grill’s Black Angus Steak, and the Delmonico Steak at Bistro Grill. Order a notch higher on the temperature time as fine restaurants tend to grill a bit on the rarer side. If you’re out with friends be a good sharer, and sample each other’s dishes. It can get ugly with the really delectable, so be prepared to fight them off with fork or skewer if they become voracious.

I’m usually too full by dessert time to get territorial.  Here a morsel of some heavenly delight is sufficient. Nothing alters vexation like a great dessert. We loved Les Marais‘ Crème Brûlée, Gusto Va Mare’s Double Truffle and u cafe’s Tricolor Cake.

Finally, if you’re still not convinced, contemplate this with your latte: “There are people who strictly deprive themselves of each and every eatable, drinkable, and smokable which has in any way acquired a shady reputation. They pay this price for health. And health is all they get for it. How strange it is. It is like paying out your whole fortune for a cow that has gone dry. – Mark Twain (1835 – 1910)“

So eat and enjoy!

SYR

Dal momento che il precedente post sembra essere piaciuto a diverse persone, volevo integrargli la poetica frase che Mark Twain ha usato per esprimersi sul perdono:

“Il perdono è la fragranza che la viola lascia sul tacco che l’ha schiacciata..”