Monday, December 31, 2007
The End Of The Line
This is the Traveling Wilburys, that old band featuring George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty and Bob Dylan. I remember their video being on MTV when I was in high school. I also remember thinking, "What a bunch of relics! Who's gonna listen to that crap?! And WHY is Tom Petty hanging out with them? Career suicide, dude! Career suicide!"
Thanks to her Gram and Pop, Bambina is completely obsessed with The Wilburys. She loves playing guitar, so the fact that there are FIVE guitars in this group just completely blows her little mind, like how do they harness all that guitar shredding power times five?!! Whoa! Because she sits and watches the DVD with said grandparents, she also knows about their recording sessions in what she calls "the Wilbury House." So now we have to play Wilbury House where she knocks on the door and asks George if he's looking for an extra guitarist "since Roy is dead." I haven't the heart to tell her that George is now deceased too. So off we go to The Wilbury House where she insists we record only Wilbury Twist because it has the word "underwear" in it, which to a 3 year old is comedy gold. We've had to change a few lyrics since those Wilburys are a bunch of delinquents (had I known this in '89 I might have been less dismissive) what with words like "ass" in songs as well. So now the lyric is "put your other foot up...fall on 'the grass,' get back up, put your teeth in a glass." Which is another notion she loves, that some older people have fake teeth that they take out and put in glasses. My Dad is smiling wherever he is because, after I explained the thing about fake teeth for people who grew up back in the day, she said, "Like Bumpa!" I laughed hysterically, like one of her primary memories of my father is that he took his teeth out at night. Somehow I think he'd find that as funny as I do.
In any case, enjoy the song. It's a fantastic theme for the end of an old year and the start of a new one.
Happy Hogmanay
And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast,
And been bow'd to the earth by its fury;
To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd
Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury -
Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime,
The regrets of remembrance to cozen,
And having obtained a New Trial of Time,
Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.
~Thomas Hood
It rolls around again, that most magical of Scottish celebrations: Hogmanay. Illustrated, usually, by wild parties, nonstop music, ubiquitous usquebach (whisky), and the best odds of the whole year that you will end up falling asleep on your lawn around 4am.
Here at Chez Haggis we will be doing nothing of the sort, of course. But somewhere deep in my head I'll be pretending I am. New Year's Eve is always bittersweet for me because it always makes me miss my Dad desperately, he of Annual Hogmanay Festivities fame. At the same time, it's also a wonderful opportunity to look back on The Year That Was and be thankful for its blessings, if not for its ass kickings.
This year, all of the great things for which I'm grateful fall under one big umbrella: I'm glad to be alive. Last new year's eve was miserable, scary and depressing. I spent it holed up in my house, wearing a mask, not able to see people. I'm so glad this year is diff... oh. Er. Well. Hmm. ;) Obviously the key difference is that last year I was holed up worried I was going to die. This year, I'm holed up looking forward to all the ways in which I'm going to really, really live in the latter half of 2008.
Some friends have said they are going to toast to my good health, and I've absolutely begged them not to. I still have a long way to go via immune standards, and there are still lots of things that can go wrong between now and then, so I'm not celebrating anything to do with good health yet. I'm simply celebrating life. It's an important distinction for me, because any celebration of "good health" is premature at best and (in my superstitious mind) a guaranteed way to encourage The Fates to f*ck me over. So if you like me at all, you will not utter "good health" in the same paragraph as my name this year. In return I will utter it three times for each of you. I will also pass on to you all the good wishes I have received via email from what appears to be hundreds of Haggis fans. Those dears have sent me wishes for a Larger Penis in 2008, Increased Libido in 2008, and Get It Hard/Keep It Hard "lotion" in 2008. They are all so kind that I don't have the heart to tell them that my penis is plenty large enough already...another thing I plan to toast at midnight. ;)
Truth be told, as ridiculous as it sounds, I'm really looking forward to 2008. 2006 and 2007, as wonderful as they were in terms of Bambina and family, just completely sucked wind from all other angles, and I'm hoping 2008 is my comeback. On a political note, I'm also hoping it's the year we elect the right person president. As we enter the final 384 days of George W. Bush's Reign of Repugnant Recalcitrance, only HL Mencken can summarize the past eight years: “Civilization, in fact, grows more and more maudlin and hysterical; especially under democracy it tends to degenerate into a mere combat of crazes; the whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by an endless series of hobgoblins, most of them imaginary.” In 2008, let us hope, pray and work to ensure that it doesn't describe our future.
As always, I'm going to end with the traditional Scottish blessing:
Lang may yer lum reek
Yer wally dreep
And the skin o' yer belly trip ye.*
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Long may your chimney smoke (ie, you have a warm home to live in), your penis work (ie, you have happy "relations"), and a belly so big it trips you (food and sustenance). It's a beautiful thought, of course made into a semi-dirty ode to sex and gluttony, as only my ancestors can do it.
And been bow'd to the earth by its fury;
To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd
Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury -
Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime,
The regrets of remembrance to cozen,
And having obtained a New Trial of Time,
Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen.
~Thomas Hood
It rolls around again, that most magical of Scottish celebrations: Hogmanay. Illustrated, usually, by wild parties, nonstop music, ubiquitous usquebach (whisky), and the best odds of the whole year that you will end up falling asleep on your lawn around 4am.
Here at Chez Haggis we will be doing nothing of the sort, of course. But somewhere deep in my head I'll be pretending I am. New Year's Eve is always bittersweet for me because it always makes me miss my Dad desperately, he of Annual Hogmanay Festivities fame. At the same time, it's also a wonderful opportunity to look back on The Year That Was and be thankful for its blessings, if not for its ass kickings.
This year, all of the great things for which I'm grateful fall under one big umbrella: I'm glad to be alive. Last new year's eve was miserable, scary and depressing. I spent it holed up in my house, wearing a mask, not able to see people. I'm so glad this year is diff... oh. Er. Well. Hmm. ;) Obviously the key difference is that last year I was holed up worried I was going to die. This year, I'm holed up looking forward to all the ways in which I'm going to really, really live in the latter half of 2008.
Some friends have said they are going to toast to my good health, and I've absolutely begged them not to. I still have a long way to go via immune standards, and there are still lots of things that can go wrong between now and then, so I'm not celebrating anything to do with good health yet. I'm simply celebrating life. It's an important distinction for me, because any celebration of "good health" is premature at best and (in my superstitious mind) a guaranteed way to encourage The Fates to f*ck me over. So if you like me at all, you will not utter "good health" in the same paragraph as my name this year. In return I will utter it three times for each of you. I will also pass on to you all the good wishes I have received via email from what appears to be hundreds of Haggis fans. Those dears have sent me wishes for a Larger Penis in 2008, Increased Libido in 2008, and Get It Hard/Keep It Hard "lotion" in 2008. They are all so kind that I don't have the heart to tell them that my penis is plenty large enough already...another thing I plan to toast at midnight. ;)
Truth be told, as ridiculous as it sounds, I'm really looking forward to 2008. 2006 and 2007, as wonderful as they were in terms of Bambina and family, just completely sucked wind from all other angles, and I'm hoping 2008 is my comeback. On a political note, I'm also hoping it's the year we elect the right person president. As we enter the final 384 days of George W. Bush's Reign of Repugnant Recalcitrance, only HL Mencken can summarize the past eight years: “Civilization, in fact, grows more and more maudlin and hysterical; especially under democracy it tends to degenerate into a mere combat of crazes; the whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by an endless series of hobgoblins, most of them imaginary.” In 2008, let us hope, pray and work to ensure that it doesn't describe our future.
As always, I'm going to end with the traditional Scottish blessing:
Lang may yer lum reek
Yer wally dreep
And the skin o' yer belly trip ye.*
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Long may your chimney smoke (ie, you have a warm home to live in), your penis work (ie, you have happy "relations"), and a belly so big it trips you (food and sustenance). It's a beautiful thought, of course made into a semi-dirty ode to sex and gluttony, as only my ancestors can do it.
It's the Story...of a Lovely Thespian
Hat tip to Popehat for this link to an old blog post regarding Robert Reed, he of Mr. Brady fame and Shakespearean acting background, writing one of many lengthy memos to the producer regarding the latest Brady Bunch script.
jonrowe.blogspot.com
I've gotta give the guy credit for making his case. Ironically, though, Mr. Brady arguing for better Brady Bunch scripts is precisely the "Batman In the MASH O.R." scenario he so deplores in the memo.
Aw, bless.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Non Appetit
Here's a link to Epicurious' Worst Food Trends of 2007. They are all right-on.
Not that I've been to an abundance of anywhere in 2007, but I will say from excessive viewing of Bravo, Food Network and National Geographic Channel that my votes go to Foam in food (it looks like that drool you have right before you vomit not to mention the yucky mouthfeel of eating shampoo) and Deconstructed Food (which may be a holdover from 2004 for all I know). All I know is that if I order a caesar salad, I don't want to have to cut my own lettuce, grate my own damn cheese and masticate chunks of anchovy in the dressing. I can make that kind of amateur crap at home! If I pay you for food, I kind of expect YOU to prepare it. Oh--and without foam.
epicurious.com
Macho Fast Food: There's no reason to consume an entire day's calories in one breakfast burrito from Hardee's.
Vanity Vodkas: The minute Donald Trump got his own vodka, the clear spirit had jumped the shark.
The Ubiquitous $40 Entree: Rising prices make great food inaccessible to the masses.
Hot Spots You Can't Find: Life is too short to dine at a "restaurant" where you have to go through an underground tunnel and then know the password, or, the owners refuse to reveal the eatery's address or phone number.
Truffles the Size of a Softball: These fancy tubers have their fans, but they're the Paris Hilton of ingredients--expensive, overexposed, and bring little to the mix.
Restaurants "In Preview:" They charge the same prices, but aren't accountable for the food because they're in "preview" mode. Restaurateurs need to own up to what they're putting out and the level of service.
Not that I've been to an abundance of anywhere in 2007, but I will say from excessive viewing of Bravo, Food Network and National Geographic Channel that my votes go to Foam in food (it looks like that drool you have right before you vomit not to mention the yucky mouthfeel of eating shampoo) and Deconstructed Food (which may be a holdover from 2004 for all I know). All I know is that if I order a caesar salad, I don't want to have to cut my own lettuce, grate my own damn cheese and masticate chunks of anchovy in the dressing. I can make that kind of amateur crap at home! If I pay you for food, I kind of expect YOU to prepare it. Oh--and without foam.
epicurious.com
Friday, December 28, 2007
Joe Biden Proven Right
Remember the debate back in October when Senator Biden was sounding the alarm about ignoring Pakistan in favor of Iraq and Iran? Here is a link to a speech he gave in early November on the same topic that rings true today in the aftermath of Benazir Bhutto's assassination. Say what you will about Joe Biden, he knows what he's talking about on foreign relations.
joebiden.com
joebiden.com
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Benazir Bhutto
carpetbaggerreport
That's the link to Carpetbagger's Thursday mini-report discussing the assassination of Benazir Bhutto and ongoing stats about the war in Iraq. All I'm saying is that if you are not deeply and substantively concerned with what is going on in Pakistan, you are not paying enough attention. This is a very, very bad situation. For all of us, regardless of nationality.
That's the link to Carpetbagger's Thursday mini-report discussing the assassination of Benazir Bhutto and ongoing stats about the war in Iraq. All I'm saying is that if you are not deeply and substantively concerned with what is going on in Pakistan, you are not paying enough attention. This is a very, very bad situation. For all of us, regardless of nationality.
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