I’m Kind of Wondering…

…if it’s about time to have Son&Heir certified as a complete loony. He just came into the room grinning, bearing his most recent purchases: a pound bag of habanero powder and a full KILO bagful of Bhut Jolokia (“ghost pepper”) powder.

Sometimes I wonder about him…

*heh*

I’ll say this for him. He seems to have a stainless steel stomach. But the trip down there…

Sunday Morning Service

Enjoying two blessings this Sunday A.M. One is a “junk save” from Lovely Daughter and Her Undaunted Husband’s garage. I’d seen a 5+1 speaker set sitting around in various stages of storage for the past couple of years (began working on the house a little more than 2 years ago; just lil fiddly things left). Asked him when they were going to hook it up and was told it was supposed to have been given to a thrift shop some time ago & did I want it? Well, yeh. Came with a 5-DVD/CD player/AM-FM tuner/HTC box. No remote, so most functions unavailable, but who really cares?

So, listening to

It’s the most unusually good “Christmas” album I have, a present from my Wonder Woman a couple of Christmases back. When I started this post, was listening to The Wexford Carol: Yo-Yo Ma (cello), Allison Kraus (vocal), Natalie MacMaster (fiddle), Cristina Pato (bagpipes!), Shane Shanahan (percussion).

At several places on the CD, different variations on one of the best tunes ever (EVER) written, Dona Nobis Pacem, are featured.

Joyous stuff, indeed. πŸ™‚

Oh, “Listening to Xmas music?!?” Yeh. What’s it to you?

πŸ˜‰

(And, as I said, it IS an unusual Xmas album. Some songs one might not normally associate with Xmas, but I see the connections.)

“Downtown’s On Fire, Man!”

A little blast from the past via memory of George Carlin’s “Al Sleet, the hippy-dippy weatherman”…

105Β° F in Third World County Central’s environs, complete with “Have to wear SCUBA gear when going outside or drown” humidity.

Nice day to stay inside. Did a lil bit of handyman work for Lovely Daughter and her Undaunted Husband (she’s a sometimes daunting person *heh*). Wish I could have done more, but they’ll survive. πŸ™‚

Relaxing, enjoying planning some lil handyman tasks here at home as well. Planning ’em, cos I’m not doing anything BUT relaxing tonight, and planning those tasks (and getting tools and materials lined out) is relaxing. OK, and typing in this low-density post. πŸ˜‰

Burying Their Wounded

Michael Flynn has quoted, and commented on, some interesting information about Thomas Disch,

“…part of the reason he quit writing science fiction was that, to deepen it into real art, ‘I would have to be like … Gene Wolfe and return to the Catholicism that I barely got away from when I was young–and I can’t do that, of course.’–Thomas M. Disch, 1940-2008, Joseph Bottum on Thomas M. Disch

In addition to Flynn’s comments on why he thinks Disch might (repeat: might) have felt a return to Catholicism would be necessary in order to deepen his fiction into art, Flynn also offers this speculation,

“As for the second, he may have thought that people suffering from illnesses are not welcome in a hospital.”

I can actually understand that sort of thought process in a person who’s left a church for whatever reason. Many congregations are closer to the Pharisees of Jesus’ day and are more likely to bury those they view as sinners under a heap of condemnation or smarmy false “pity” than welcome them into–or back into–the fold. In such congregations, it seems that The Nazarene’s parables of The Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin and The Loving Father (known to those who misplace the emphasis as The Prodigal Son) have been excised from their scriptures, or at least from their hearts.

I can understand if Disch thought going back to Catholicism might entail dealing with such a “welcome”. He might well have been correct. IF this were any part of the mental process that prevented him from returning to the religious roots of his youth. Big “if” as we have no way of asking him, of course.

Still, I have known enough church-going Pharisees to make Flynn’s speculation plausible. “Hospitals” that bury the wounded instead of helping them are really just slaughter houses.

Cheap Date

Just imagine – the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol rings a doorbell. Ding-a-ling. Someone opens the door and sees: roses, balloons, champagne, smiling faces, a video camera, and a huge Big Check that says they’ve won $5,000 A Week for Life!

*heart attack* *drops dead*

Cheap date*.


*analysis by my Wonder Woman. πŸ˜‰

Happy Birthday Anniversary, America!

In honor of those patriots who founded the nation, here’s Isaac Asimov speaking from the grave in praise of The Star Spangled Banner (stolen from Jerry Pournelle’s 2010 4th of July post… which he quoted from elsewhere):

Our National Anthem.

Four Stanzas

By Isaac Asimov

Introductory Note. Unless you’re already well acquainted with our “national anthem,” this interesting piece by the late Isaac Asimov will be an eye-opener. It was for me. It’s especially appropriate at a time when there is much talk of tossing out this difficult-to-sing and difficult-to-comprehend old song in favor of something that better suits Ray Charles’ voice. You’ll understand the song much better after you read Mr. Asimov’s explanation.–Hardly Waite, Gazette Senior Editor.

I have a weakness–I am crazy, absolutely nuts, about our national anthem.

The words are difficult and the tune is almost impossible, but frequently when I’m taking a shower I sing it with as much power and emotion as I can. It shakes me up every time.

I was once asked to speak at a luncheon. Taking my life in my hands, I announced I was going to sing our national anthem–all four stanzas.

This was greeted with loud groans. One man closed the door to the kitchen, where the noise of dishes and cutlery was loud and distracting. “Thanks, Herb,” I said.

“That’s all right,” he said. “It was at the request of the kitchen staff.”

I explained the background of the anthem and then sang all four stanzas.

Let me tell you, those people had never heard it before–or had never really listened. I got a standing ovation. But it was not me; it was the anthem.

More recently, while conducting a seminar, I told my students the story of the anthem and sang all four stanzas. Again there was a wild ovation and prolonged applause. And again, it was the anthem and not me.

So now let me tell you how it came to be written.

In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over freedom of the seas. We were in the right. For two years, we held off the British, even though we were still a rather weak country. Great Britain was in a life and death struggle with Napoleon. In fact, just as the United States declared war, Napoleon marched off to invade Russia. If he won, as everyone expected, he would control Europe, and Great Britain would be isolated. It was no time for her to be involved in an American war.

At first, our seamen proved better than the British. After we won a battle on Lake Erie in 1813, the American commander, Oliver Hazard Perry, sent the message “We have met the enemy and they are ours.” However, the weight of the British navy beat down our ships eventually. New England, hard-hit by a tightening blockade, threatened secession.

Meanwhile, Napoleon was beaten in Russia and in 1814 was forced to abdicate. Great Britain now turned its attention to the United States, launching a three-pronged attack. The northern prong was to come down Lake Champlain toward New York and seize parts of New England. The southern prong was to go up the Mississippi, take New Orleans and paralyze the west. The central prong was to head for the mid-Atlantic states and then attack Baltimore, the greatest port south of New York. If Baltimore was taken, the nation, which still hugged the Atlantic coast, could be split in two. The fate of the United States, then, rested to a large extent on the success or failure of the central prong.

The British reached the American coast, and on August 24, 1814, took Washington, D. C. Then they moved up the Chesapeake Bay toward Baltimore. On September 12, they arrived and found 1000 men in Fort McHenry, whose guns controlled the harbor. If the British wished to take Baltimore, they would have to take the fort.

On one of the British ships was an aged physician, William Beanes, who had been arrested in Maryland and brought along as a prisoner. Francis Scott Key, a lawyer and friend of the physician, had come to the ship to negotiate his release. The British captain was willing, but the two Americans would have to wait. It was now the night of September 13, and the bombardment of Fort McHenry was about to start.

As twilight deepened, Key and Beanes saw the American flag flying over Fort McHenry. Through the night, they heard bombs bursting and saw the red glare of rockets. They knew the fort was resisting and the American flag was still flying. But toward morning the bombardment ceased, and a dread silence fell. Either Fort McHenry had surrendered and the British flag flew above it, or the bombardment had failed and the American flag still flew.

As dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, Key and Beanes stared out at the fort, trying to see which flag flew over it. He and the physician must have asked each other over and over, “Can you see the flag?”

After it was all finished, Key wrote a four stanza poem telling the events of the night. Called “The Defence of Fort M’Henry,” it was published in newspapers and swept the nation. Someone noted that the words fit an old English tune called “To Anacreon in Heaven” –a difficult melody with an uncomfortably large vocal range. For obvious reasons, Key’s work became known as “The Star Spangled Banner,” and in 1931 Congress declared it the official anthem of the United States.

Now that you know the story, here are the words. Presumably, the old doctor is speaking. This is what he asks Key

Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof thro’ the night that our flag was still there.

Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

“Ramparts,” in case you don’t know, are the protective walls or other elevations that surround a fort. The first stanza asks a question. The second gives an answer

On the shore, dimly seen thro’ the mist of the deep,

Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep.

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,

In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream

‘Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

“The towering steep” is again, the ramparts. The bombardment has failed, and the British can do nothing more but sail away, their mission a failure.

In the third stanza, I feel Key allows himself to gloat over the American triumph. In the aftermath of the bombardment, Key probably was in no mood to act otherwise.

During World War II, when the British were our staunchest allies, this third stanza was not sung. However, I know it, so here it is

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore

That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion

A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footstep’s pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The fourth stanza, a pious hope for the future, should be sung more slowly than the other three and with even deeper feeling.

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war’s desolation,

Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the Heav’n – rescued land

Praise the Pow’r that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto–“In God is our trust.”

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes. Listen to it, the next time you have a chance, with new ears.

And don’t let them ever take it away.

–Isaac Asimov, March 1991

First verse only here:

Beats the pants (and socks and altogether) off any “pop star” rendition. Ever. If you find the Star-Spangled Banner to be too hard to sing, practice. Sing ALL the verses, and think about it.

This version touts having “All Verses” though it leaves out both the second (response to first) verse and the “spit in the Brits’ eyes” verse *heh* and offers only the first and last verses.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAYPN-1Yjt0

Petty Irritant #2,473

Here’s a howto on using cardboard to help in hammering a nail “safely”. It’s specifically designed for lazy dumbasses who want to “build something” without bothering to acquire the skills to do so. Gaining skills in using tools takes effort and time, things many folks in our instant gratification society just can’t bring themselves to spend.

Medium Hotitudinousness Almost, Sorta Recipe

I really, really like chiles rellenos, but I don’t much like making them, what with the pre-roasting and peeling of the peppers, the batter and frying and all that. What I really like is the roasted peppers with cheese part. So,

  • Poblano peppers, slit and sorta, mostly de-seeded. (I like the seeds, but poblanos are just barely “hot” enough to do without them, and I save ’em to plant. :-))
  • Fill ’em with shredded cheese. I like a monterey jack and cheddar mix.
  • Bake on a greased pan in a 350Β°F oven for about 30 minutes.

That’s it. I don’t find the skins to be an issue for me, and I don’t really miss the batter at all.

One can (and many do) use green anaheim peppers, but I find then to be a bit too mild for my taste.

These can be a part of a Mex-Tex meal or, as I have been eating them, the main dish with little else. Yum stuff.