Author: David

*”Cleanup in aisle two!”

As usual, Fred pulls no punches with Paris Burns

“What the French need to do, but won’t, is to send the army into the Islamic slums, round up the whole lot, and put them ashore on the beaches of North Africa with a box lunch and a coupon for three free Dunkin Donuts. It isn’t a pretty answer. It’s a lot prettier than what seems to be coming down the pike.”

BTW, a strangely relevant rabbit trail (cos Kit Jarrel—see below—used the term “Uffda” to refer to the French mess):

It was the summer of 1978 when I leaned the difference between “uffda” and “feeda” (sp?). In Albert Lea, MN to meet the family of my “then” lovely bride-to-be (bride, 27 years ago, this month :-), and we went to see a movie together one afternoon–she, her brothers and sister and I.

Walking out afterwards, I saw one of a coupla of guys ahead of us point out some gum on the pavement with a warning “Uffda!” to his friend. The other guy didn’t see it in time, so he stepped in it, lifted his foot and said, “Feeda!”

From that time forward, I’ve known the difference between these two barnyard-originated terms: it’s uffda if you see it, but it’s feeda if you step in it…

France has stepped in it. (And is now in “it” up to its neck, it appears… )

There’s plenty of “uffda” being spread by the MC/CD crowd here at home, though. I don’t want to wait until there’s nothing left but “feeda“ to have to clean it up, though.

(h.t. Euphoric Reality for reminding me to read Fred’s weekly 🙂

Oh, and I guess this is yet another partially Guard the Borders post…

Blogs already on board:

Euphoric Reality
A Lady’s Ruminations
TMH’s Bacon Bits**
Part-Time Pundit
The Right Track

Social Sense
Cao’s Blog
Ogre’s Politics and Views
In The Bullpen**
Ravings of a Mad Tech

America Is Not A Pinata!
NIF
Every Man
Kender’s Musings
Watchman’s Words

Third World County
Gribbit’s Word
NYgirl
Parrot Check
Right on Right

Team Swap**
Gina’s Rantings
The Blue State Conservatives
Mover Mike
DANEgerus

Publius Rendezvous
Our Way of Life
Freedom Folks
View From Tonka**
Left Brain Female in a Right Brain World

Something and Half of Something**
Curley’s Corner

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(More properly,  to head off attacks by berserker Nordskis—heh—a discussion of “uffda” and “feeda” from a more objective perspective:

“…uff Interjection: oo, oof, ugh; oh dear (often combined with da, ja, jo, nei); expresses unpleasant feelings, e.g., alarm, uneasiness, aversion, disgust; irritatation; regret…. A stronger interjection of ‘fy’ (ugh!, whew!(what a smell!);shame (reproach); ‘fy da’ for shame. …[U]ffda is not so much negative, as excessive. e.g. ‘Uffda, I ate too much!’ or ‘Uffda, look at that weird hairdo!’ Negative is conveyed by the word ‘Feeda’, as in ‘Feeda, someone threw up all over the sidewalk!'”

Linked at Committees of Correspondence

 

Wanna play the Open Trackbacks game with some interesting bloggers? Try this:

Yep Samantha Burns and a few others (for now) are forming the Open Trackback Alliance. The graphic above is linked to the FAQ. If you wanna play, CLICK and learn, eh?

🙂

Funny thing about animals… they know how to manage in their own territory and in others’ territory…

Well, at least those that’re not totally whacked out, like some pit bulls I’ve met whose owners should be shot. (Interesting thing that. I once heard an Oklahoma District Court judge reported to say–and I asked him about it one time and confirmed it–that he never knew a cow that deserved to be stolen, but he certainly knew some men who deserved to be shot. It was at sentencing for a cattle rustling case. Yep. About 1988.)

A Guard the Borders post I’ve deleted (cos it was execrably bad writing) and am reworking disparages the position taken by multiculturalists (and their often unwitting fellow travelers in overtly non-MC/CD* folk) that assimilation of immigrants is not only somehow immoral, it is impossible. *feh* Ask generations of American immigrants up until the MC/CD* crowd came to dominate the discussion of immigration.

But perhaps a better example can be taken from my own family’s dogs and cats.

The Boys (my son’s dogs) are outside dogs. The back yard is theirs. Heck, they think that whatever they can see from the back yard is their domain, under their protection. Pests that enter the back yard do so at their own peril (five dead raccoons and a couple of dead groundhogs this past summer can bear witness).

The cats are all inside cats. One (the old lady of the bunch) even has no front claws. They “rule” the entire house, excepting only our bedroom, my office and the garage. The three cats live in an easy/uneasy truce situation: neither of the girls likes the other cats. The poor (once, but no longer) boy likes both the girls, who both despise him. All three expect prompt service in petting, food, etc., from their humans.

The interesting interaction comes when I bring The Boys in to eat, as I do pretty often when it’s very hot, very cold or very wet–or just when I feel they need a little more attention.

The Boys, who are death, in a very literal sense, on animals who trespass on THEIR domain, know that in the house they are guests. Even clawless Grande Dame, who wants to sniff and play with them when they come near, doesn’t elicit the ferocious attacks I’ve seen them level against far larger, more dangerous animals. Instead, The Boys sniff back, allow her to bat at them, even play bite, etc.

And the other two cats? Ditto. Neither do they fear The Boys, because The Boys act with full knowledge that the house is not their place. The Boys amend their normally rambunctious and even violent behavior when they are in a foreign land as guests because they have learned that do act otherwise is to bring down the wrath of god (little “G” cos those of us acting in that role aren’t the real thing… except to The Boys).

We need a tad of that in our immigration policies if we are to avoid 10 or 20 years down the road having on our soil (more–think, Detroit, LA, etc., riots–of) what the French are experiencing today. “Sure, you can visit as guests. But as guests, you must live here by the rules of OUR society. If you want to live here long-term, or even become citizens, you MUST learn to speak OUR language, obey OUR laws, follow OUR customs. WE will decide what part of your culture and customs WE want to adopt, NOT YOU. Don’t like it? Leave.”

This has not quite been another Guard the Borders Blogburst post, but it’s been close…

GTB hits Euphoric Reality every Monday, and seeks to promote awareness about the illegal immigration epidemic that our country is facing and the urgent need to curb the problem before it’s too late. If you’d like to join the blogburst, send an email to kit.jarrell@gmail.com with your blog’s name and URL.

*MC/CD=”multi-cultural/cultural diversity”

Edited for typos, mainly to try out a new blog publishing interface. heh

I’m experiencing a small surge in readership (thanks all y’all who’re linking me, and those of y’all who are dropping by cos you’re searching for “Swedish pants” heh), so I figured this might be a time for the occasional restatement of this blog’s purpose and focus.

Let me dispense with the second part first: this blog HAS no focus. And that’s partly because of its purpose: to quell the mob of voices inside my head. heh

So, any reader to takes time to page on down this blog will find

• personal events in my life/family life
• political/social commentary
• humor (though not always funny humor)
• food blogging–recipes and experiments, links to, etc.
• music, arts—featured clips and views and commentary
• edublogging/ranting
• random crap

And just about anything else that occurs to me.

As far as the political/social commentary goes, I’m a classical liberal conservative. (Don’t try to label me with one of the current political labels, please. Not even with the Libertarian label: the Libertarian Party isn’t libertarian any more, either.) heh Since neither the Demoncraps nor the Republican’ts represent either Liberalism nor Conservatism any more, I’m disgusted with both parties. The Demoncraps are determined to drive the U.S. off a cliff at 90mph, and the Republican’t are all to glad to follow, albeit with just barely enough heel-dragging to win my vote when it comes to a choice between the two.

Education, popular culture, the “arts” and media? Too late for any of them to be “going to hell in a handbasket”—they’ve already arrived and are dishing it out daily.

But.

Despair is perhaps the most deadly of sins, so I rant, ridicule and argue.

Dylan Thomas was a fairly decent example (James Joyce is perhaps the best) of what was wrong with 20th Century “literature” but even a blind pig finds a few acorns:

It’s NOT “just like riding a bicycle”

Ya know, I tried riding a unicycle once, but I never could really get a handle on it.

I’ve been riffing off Christine‘s scones recipes (just go to Morning Coffe and Afternoon Tea  and enter a search for scones in her search box–she has several scones recipes) and have a variation on a simple scones recipe that was a big hit with my Wonder Woman.

So, here ’tis:

Ingredients

• 3C regular old white flour
• 4 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 cup margarine or butter (melted)
• 4Tbs sugar
• 2 eggs_milk to make one cup liquid
• Finely-grated zest of one lemon
• 1Tbs lemon juice
• 1Tbs (more or less to taste) poppy seeds

Procedure

Heat oven to 375F
Optional: also heat well-seasoned cast iron skillet to medium heat

• Mix dry ingredients
• Add melted butter and cut in well
• Mix wet ingredients (this includes the lemon zest), adding the lemon
• juice last
• Mix wet and dry
• Optional: Oil cast iron pan lightly; use metal forms (I use some ideally-sized cans that formerly held wasabi peas–both ends cut out) and add about 1/6 the batter to each form in the cast iron pan. When the bottom has “set” well, remove the forms and turn them to brown the other side. Then transfer the scones to a baking sheet in the oven. I was able to do three at a time this way, easily. The scones will slump a little but that’s OK.
• Make six scones up on a baking sheet (either as above or as with “drop” biscuits)

In about 10 minutes, they’re ready to pull from the oven, butter and disappear down appreciative gullets. The lemon zest isn’t overpowering, and the lemon juice souring the milk adds just a little lightness (acidic reaction with the baking powder) to the finished prooduct. The sugar assures that, eaten without jams or jellies, they’re a lightly sweet treat.

Of course, without the amendments (the lemon zest and poppy seeds—I’d still keep the lemon juice or use vinegar to sour the milk), these are just plain ole scones that can take any number of additions. My next experiment will likely be to out the butter/margarine for applesauce and add cinnamon, a pinch of freshly-ground nutmeg, a wee tad of (freshly-ground) cloves and some raisins. I’m betting that’ll be a hit, too.

Hegel was a jackass.

Consider: any time there is a conflict between Good and Evil and the two reach a “compromise” (a synthesis of the two), Evil wins.

In any argument, when one side is right, marshalls all its facts, makes a sound argument… and compromises with the side that is wrong, marshalls NO facts (unless lies count as facts) and makes spurious arguments grounded only in its own fantsies and feelings, and yet the side that’s right compromises for expediency’s sake (or just to back off and “make peace”) then wrong has won again.

So it is in public policy, in childrearing, in education—darned near every aspect of life: there are truths and lies, rights and wrongs, and when what is true and right compromises with what is lies, wrongs, then the liars win.

Even if it’s only a drop of feces in a glass of milk, the milk’s still unfit to drink.

Hegel was a jackass.

And those who surrender principles, who will feast with the Devil himself if he’d just be civil… become Republican’t Congresscritters. (Yeh, guess what population makes up the Demoncrappic Congresscritters. The inquiry is its own answer. *sigh*)

“American conservatism is merely the shadow that follows Radicalism as it moves forward to perdition. It remains behind it, but never retards it, and always advances near its leader. This pretended salt hath utterly lost its savor: wherewith shall it be salted? Its impotency is not hard to explain. It is worthless because it is the conservatism of expediency only, and not of sturdy principle. It tends to risk nothing serious for the sake of truth.”– R. L. Dabney

Carnival of the Recipes #64 is up over at Pajama Pundits, and it looks like soup recipes dominate this week.

Well, my new experimental soup/stew this week may make it into next week’s canival (I think maybe the parsnips are out), but you’ll find plenty to keep you warm as Fall hits in this week’s carnival. Meanwhile, I’m still tinkering with a chai latte drink. I’ve managed to down a gallon or so of experimental efforts this week, and pretty much liked them all.

By that, I mean, time for me to break something… Arrrgggghhhh!

Once again, something in Blogger is corrupting my posts. (It’s the devil, I just know it must be. heh) I’ve checked on three computers, each with three different browsers and it’s the same: suddenly, all my posts (except “Snarking… ” below) are all italicized.

I’ve checked the html on several of them, and it’s not i n the posts. I guess I need to check and see how badly corrupted my template is… hpefully just a coupla pieces of code… slog through the template ma while, yeh, that’s the ticket. Now, which part of my trifocals do I wanna try this time… squint and pray, squint and pray… and throw things, too, of course. *sigh*

Oh, great. Decided, “Well Blogger folks are biased toward Firefox for some unfathomable reason, so I’ll try checking stuff using it as my interface. Hmmm, while I’m here, let’s check out that “compose” tab. haven’t looked at that way of submitting posts in a coon’s age. What?!?!? The $%*&%#@ thing’s inoperable even using Firefox?!?!?”

Yeh. I know. Grow up and get a real set of blogging tools. Well, time’s come to beat Blogger into submission again…

Arrrgggghhhh! Just bear with me a while. Line by line through template and posts’ code to find the culprit. Go ahead and read some of the other posts below. Culture comments, “imported” snark, fun with telemarketers, politics and food–it’s all there, somewhere. Have fun. Heck, poke fun at my slow sifting through whatever problem it is that magically appeared bwtween one post and the next with the Blogger stuff. I can handle your snarky comments. 🙂

Yeh, yeh, and for those of y’all who’ve offered me accounts with “real” blogging software, just keep in mind: I love banging my head on a brick wall cos it feels soooo good when I stop.

OK, another hint: the italicizing is ONLY on my front page… When I open the posts individually, all is as it should be (apart from typos and the occasional obscurantist sentence structure and misspelled word :-). Strange, that.

Well, enough of that. Big day Saturday moving Lovely Daughter into her new digs, puttering around the house afterwards, hopefully getting those weekend posts I’ve been mulling over done, waiting for lightning to strike so I can have the arcane voodoo Blogger’s concealing from me revealed… etc.

Well-written snark is such a blessing…

I ran across the following (two statements separated by a couple of paragraphs and here conjoined) in an article by Douglas Wilson (who is even better, if that seems possible, at construction of great snark than Prince Lileks):

“…and postmodern hoohah, the last of which could be refuted by three toddlers with kazoos  …Leotard defined postmodernism as ‘incredulity toward all metanarratives.’ Of course, this is a metanarrative itself, smirking away as though we wouldn’t notice, and so all we need to do is summon the toddlers and their kazoos.”

As always, Credenda‘s just fulla the stuff.