FRIDAY RANDOM TEN

Time once again for Yet Another Random Selection o’ Goodies from the iPod d’Elisson. Let’s see what’s playing today, shall we?

1. The Lion Sleeps Tonight - They Might Be Giants
   
2. Alone Down There - Modest Mouse
   
3. Ragas in Minor Scale - Ravi Shankar and Philip Glass
   
4. Escape To India - Philip Glass
   
5. Women Like Nice Guys - Bobby Slayton
   
6. Brandenburg Concerto #2 in F - Trevor Pinnock and the English Concerto
   
7. Reelin’ In The Years - Steely Dan [ya gotta love a band that named themselves after a Famous Literary Dildo]
   
8. Tandem Jump - Jonathan Richman
   
9. High Hopes - Skanatra
   
10. La Noyée - Yann Tiersen
    

I love that Random Shuffle setting. It’s the Forrest Gump Candy Box approach to music: you never know what you’re gonna get.

It’s Friday. What are you listening to?

FRIDAY ARK #61

Modulate your way over to the Modulator, where Steve has posted this week’s edition of the Friday Ark.

Submissions to the Carnival of the Cockroaches have been light to nonexistent, so I’ll hold off on slapping it up until such time as there are more Worthy Roachy and/or Buggy Posts. Click the button on the sidebar if you want more information.

BEEF STEW WITH A DIFFERENCE

Tired of that boring old chili, Willie?

Lamb Vindaloo doesn’t do it for you?

How about a nice Indonesian-style beef curry, guaranteed to warm your innards on a cold November night? Yes, Esteemed Readers, it’s time for:

Beef Rendang

· 1 lb rump steak
· 2 onions
· 4 cloves garlic, peeled
· 3 fresh red chili peppers
· 1 one-inch chunk ginger root
· 1 tsp turmeric
· 1 tbsp paprika
· 1 stalk lemon grass, chopped
· 3 lime leaves
· 20 oz coconut milk
· 5 tbsp water

Put the onions, garlic, chili peppers, ginger, paprika, turmeric and water in a food processor fitted with the steel blade; process into a smooth paste, scraping the sides of the work bowl to make sure all ingredients are incorporated.

Dice the meat and mix with half the paste. Set aside.

Put the other half of the paste into a heavy saucepan and add the coconut milk, chopped lemon grass and lime leaves.

Simmer without the lid for about 30 minutes, until mixture is reduced by half. Add the meat mixture and return to a simmer. Reduce heat and simmer uncovered, stirring regularly, for one hour or until the meat is tender. Serve with boiled rice.

[Now, if you want some greens to go with your Beef Rendang, take some hearts of romaine, some croutons, anchovies, and Caesar dressing and fix yourself up a nice Caesar salad. Serve alongside the meat dish and Presto! “Rendang Unto Caesar.” Oy.]

BASKET CASE

Hakuna takes a nap in the Big Basket o’ Blankets...or is she hiding from the ever-present Matata?

THE CRAP WE PLAYED WITH

MetroDad was having a Nostalgia-Fest at his site, reminiscing about Random Shit he remembers from his Snot-Nose Days. Of course, his Snot-Nose Days are a lot more recent than mine...

Here’s his list:

• Shrinky Dinks
  
• 50 Facts about the 50 States
  
• “Brite Lites” [I think these were actually “Lite Brites”]
  
• Schoolhouse Rock
  
• Encyclopedia Brown, Boy Detective
  
• James & the Giant Peach
  
• Mad Libs
  
• Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing
  
• Play-Doh
  
• Pop Rocks, Fun Dip & Dots
  
• Stickball bats made out of broomsticks
  
• Mattel Football 2 LED game
  
• Pogo Sticks
  
• Home-made ice sticks made with orange juice
  
• Sea Monkeys
  
• Felt banners of my favorite sports teams
  
• Big Wheel & The Green Machine

And yet...I remember quite a few of the things on his list – if not from my childhood days, then from later. My kids’ childhood days, f’r instance.

But let’s look at that list, shall we?

Shrinky Dinks – These came along well after I was little, but the principle fascinated me. Draw on a piece of plastic, then heat it and watch it shrink to a fraction of its former size. Whoopee. But as a Grown-Up, I used to sell millions of pounds – nay, hundreds of millions of pounds – of plastic resin that was used to make shrinkable meat packaging. Shrinky Dink technology applied to Real Life.

Mad Libs – I think I first encountered these in fifth grade. Har dee har har.

Play-Doh – a classic, with which I became familiar very early in life. More about this later.

Stickball bats – I used to play stickball when we would visit my cousins in Brooklyn. There was a whole raft of Urban Games with which today’s kids are totally unfamiliar: stickball, stoop ball, box ball. The common feature of these games was that they were all played with a Spaldeen, a pink rubber ball (the name is a corruption of Spalding) that, as it happens, is the unfuzzed core of a tennis ball.

Pop Rocks, et al. – Pop Rocks came along after I was older, but Fun Dip was originally known as Lik-m-Aid. You’d consume it by licking your finger, dipping it in the little pouch of Candy Powder, and licking off the powder that would adhere to the fingertip. Got a lot of interesting looking fingertips with that stuff – it looked like Iraqi Election Day on the playground.

Pogo Sticks – have been around forever.

Sea Monkeys – Mainly of interest for the incredibly cheesy ads that appeared in every single comic book in the 1950’s and 1960’s – probably required by Federal law. Nobody in his right mind would actually buy these things, am I right?

But wait: there’s more. What about these?

Nik-L-Nips – You can get these today for $2, but back in the 1950’s, a package really cost 5¢. It consisted of five tiny wax bottles, each filled with a colorful sugary liquid. You’d bite the top off each bottle, suck the liquid out, and then chew the wax. Inane.

Fizzies – The bastard get of a Soft Drink and an Alka-Seltzer. You would drop a Fizzies tablet into a glass of cold water, wherein it would fizz (hence the name) and yield a glassful of mildly carbonated, alkali-flavored soda water. The fun was in watching it fizz – because even then, we knew that to actually drink that shit would give you Brain Cancer.

Mr. Potato-Head - Back in the day, all you got was a bunch of plastic and felt Body Parts attached to Pointy Toothpick-Like Spears. You provided the potato. Lots of great impalement possibilities.

Flavor-Straws – Drink your milk through a Flavor-Straw and you would have milk that tasted vaguely of chocolate, or strawberry, or, whatever. Good, but only if you were too fucking lazy to deal with opening a can of Hershey’s Syrup (Yeah, back then it came in cans.)

Great Garloo – This was a scary-looking totally lame-ass plastic robot, standing all of three feet high, controlled by a hand-held switch box. You could make Garloo bend at the waist, clasp his hands together, and roll forward and backward. I used to terrify my kid brother with Garloo, which automatically made it an Excellent Toy.


Great Garloo, nemesis of Eli’s Other Son.

The Gilbert Chemistry Set – I’m sure that nobody in their right mind would dare to buy one of these today. It had actual chemicals in it, some of them potentially nasty. The interest I later developed in chemistry and chemical engineering no doubt comes from the happy hours I spent mixing and burning all kinds of Toxic Shit at the kitchen table.

The Easy-Bake Oven – That one’s been around forever...but even it had predecessors. And therein lies a story.

When I was about three or four, my parents somehow got it into their heads that a Toy Stove would be a Good Thing to Give Little Elisson. And so they did. What the fuck were they thinking?

This was no Easy-Bake Oven. This was a real stove, with little working burners and (I suppose) a fully functional oven. It came with a full set of Tiny-Ass Metal Cookware.

Ah, but what to cook? It took me no time to find something. Play-Doh! I filled the various Pots ’n’ Pans with Play-Doh and set that crap a-cooking. You know what? You can boil Play-Doh if you get it hot enough. But your Mommy and Daddy will not like it if you do.

This is the same Mommy and Daddy that gave me, at the tender age of four, a stapler. For a Chanukah present, no less. And, some time shortly after that (but well before my fifth birthday), a pocketknife. I think they must have been trying to kill me.

Or maybe they were just oblivious. I mean, back in the ’50’s, boys (especially toddlers) were not generally encouraged to cook. Damn thing was probably on sale. Yet perhaps that Toy Stove was the distant source, the Ursprung, as it were, of my interest in Matters Culinary...

Do you have any memories of your own Random Childhood Crap? If so, howzabout sharing in the Comments?

CARNIVAL OF COMEDY #29

Fitch, the host at Radioactive Liberty, has posted this week’s Carnival of Comedy, the twenty-ninth installment in that series. It’s also Fitch’s 100th post - mazeltov, Fitch!

Go pay him a visit and get your daily ration of funny - even if my nasty little post didn’t make the 200 Megaton Blast category.

BLUE PLATE SPECIAL

It’s been a while since I’ve done any Wednesday Night Supperblogging, but today’s Evening Meal looked good enough to eat.



Here we have:

• Baked Atlantic Salmon with Potlatch Seasoning
  
• Roasted Cauliflower with Thyme, Garlic, and Fleur de Sel
  
• Baby Romaine Salad with Toasted Pine-Nuts, Sherry Vinegar and Walnut Oil Dressing

Not pictured: Whole-Wheat Rotini with Butter and Locatelli Romano.

Had the weather been warmer, I could have planked the fish and thrown it on the grill, but I opted for the Conventional Hot-Box instead.

I suppose we could have gone Whole-Hog and cracked open a nice Chardonnay, but screw it: I washed down the whole morass with a glass of iced tea, with a Coke Zero chaser. The Missus, for her part, stuck with the Coke Zero.

All of this, by the way, was thrown together in roughly 50 minutes. I arrived home, ingredients in hand, while She Who Must Be Obeyed was out at her Water Aerobics class; everything was (mostly) ready by the time she got home. The key, of course, is to use good ingredients and prepare them without undue complication.

And no, I don’t do windows.

STILL WITH THE DAMN HAT

The Mistress of Sarcasm asked me to post this old picture...45 pounds and 25 years ago.



Most likely, it’s so that she and Mickey can make fun of it. And now, you can too.

CHILDREN OF ABRAHAM

If you want to understand the differences and similarities between the three Great Abrahamic Religions, you have to understand where the borders lie on the Mental Map that defines them.

Here’s a Surveyor’s Report:

Judaism: The Rambam’s Thirteen Principles of Faith

1. I believe with perfect faith that G-d is the Creator and Ruler of all things. He alone has made, does make, and will make all things.
   
   
2. I believe with perfect faith that G-d is One. There is no unity that is in any way like His. He alone is our G-d. He was, He is, and He will be.
   
   
3. I believe with perfect faith that G-d does not have a body. Physical concepts do not apply to Him. There is nothing whatsoever that resembles Him at all.
   
   
4. I believe with perfect faith that G-d is first and last.
   
   
5. I believe with perfect faith that it is only proper to pray to G-d. One may not pray to anyone or anything else.
   
   
6. I believe with prefect faith that all the words of the prophets are true.
   
   
7. I believe with perfect faith that the prophecy of Moses is absolutely true. He was the chief of all prophets, both before and after Him.
   
   
8. I believe with perfect faith that the entire Torah that we now have is that which was given to Moses.
   
   
9. I believe with perfect faith that this Torah will not be changed, and that there will never be another given by G-d.
   
   
10. I believe with perfect faith that G-d knows all of man’s deeds and thoughts. It is thus written (Psalm 33:15), “He has molded every heart together, He understands what each one does.”
    
    
11. I believe with perfect faith that G-d rewards those who keep His commandments, and punishes those who transgress Him.
    
    
12. I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah. However long it takes, I will await His coming every day.
    
    
13. I believe with perfect faith that the dead will be brought back to life when G-d wills it to happen.

[Note: Rambam is the Hebrew acronym for Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, also known as Maimonides, a scholar of towering prominence in medieval intellectual and religious life, as well as a philosopher, scientist, and physician. He formulated the Thirteen Principles of Faith in his commentary on the Mishna, written in 1168 C.E.]

Christianity: The Nicene Creed

We believe in one God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father by whom all things were made; who for us men, and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary, and was made man, and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate. He suffered and was buried, and the third day he rose again according to the Scriptures, and ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of the Father. And he shall come again with glory to judge both the quick and the dead, whose kingdom shall have no end.

And we believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proceedeth from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified, who spoke by the prophets. And we believe one holy catholic and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins. And we look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.

[The profession of the Christian faith common to the Catholic Church, to all the Eastern Churches separated from Rome, and to most of the Protestant denominations, as formulated at the Council of Nicaea in the year 325 C.E.]

Islam: The Islamic Creed (Shahada)

There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is His prophet.

************

[Gotta hand it to them Muslims. They know how to keep it simple.]

Do the creedal statements above encapsulate all there is about each religion? Of course not. But these are the Core Principles of each belief system, from which all else proceeds: useful for understanding the boundaries of what you believe...and what you do not believe. Everything else is window dressing, explanation, and politics.

Three Major Religions with a single progenitor.

They can’t all be right...and that is where Faith comes in. The ability to trust, to believe, without a scintilla of Real Evidence. It’s what makes Religion different from Science: both pursuing elusive Truth, but each one using completely different tools in the course of the chase.

What do you believe? And what do you not believe?

CARNIVAL OF THE VANITIES #165

The latest Carnival of the Vanities is on line at The Examining Room of Dr. Charles.

After you visit The Examining Room of Dr. Charles, perhaps you’d like to spend some time in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. I hear it’s in the same medical office building.

FUN WITH GOOGLE

Denny was having fun with Google yesterday, so I decided to play, too.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any snappy catchphrases like “booger-eatin’ moh-rons” to direct people my way. Nevertheless, I gots me some stuff.

Every so often, I will write about Feces, and the Removal Thereof. And so, here’s what happens when I have Fun with Google:


[Click to embiggen.]

We’re Number One...in Number Two! Boo-yah!

MASS CONFUSION: A 100-WORD STORY

Father Dominic was beginning to come unglued.

The Offertory had gone just fine. Sanctus, likewise. Lord’s Prayer, no problem.

The Agnus Dei had never sounded sweeter.

It was after Communion that things began to get sketchy. Congregants started milling around aimlessly, bumping into each other in the pews, cracking ankles on the kneelers, eyes glazed. It took three hours to herd them all out the door after “Missa est.”

By now, Dominic felt pretty strange himself. Bizarre lights flashed; weird howls echoed. Was God speaking?

Later, he found out that an altar boy had spiked the Communion wine with LSD.

[Adapted from my comment at 100 Words or Les Nessman. The theme? “Mass Confusion,” of course.]

NEW BUTTONS

I’ve stuck a couple of new buttons on the sidebar - like I really needed more crap there.

There’s now a button that links to the submission instructions for Carnival of the Cockroaches, so you Buggy-Minded Individuals can send in your insectile posts. You are welcome - nay, encouraged! - to use the button on your own site, as long as you host it yourself (no hotlinks, please!) And of course, there’s a button for my Frappr! map.

If you have not yet stuck your own Personal Push-Pin in my Frappr! map, what the hell are you waiting for? The Moshiach? An engraved invitation? Jimmy Hoffa’s reappearance?

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING?

Every so often, it’s fun to look at the old Referrer Stats to see what sort of searches people are using to find Blog d’Elisson.

Here are the Top Twenty-Five search keywords, according to BlogPatrol:

1. hanger steak (Yahoo)
   
2. tornado dreams (Google)
   
3. enema blog (Google) - OK, so I wrote a story that featured an enema bag. Once.
   
4. turducken blog (Google)
   
5. blog d'elisson (Google)
   
6. cats (Google)
   
7. enema blog (Yahoo) - There you are again, you Upper Colonic Pervert, you.
   
8. bloods (Google)
   
9. zeeba neighba (Google) - Clearly a Stephan Pastis fan.
   
10. sherlock holmes brown study (Google)
    
11. di tri berrese (Yahoo) - A Faux Italiano fan.
    
12. curious george cake (Google) - Yes, I did write about a party for Curious George at the Boston Public Library. Cake was involved.
    
13. turducken houston (Google)
    
14. turducken (Google)
    
15. recipe for king ranch chicken (Yahoo)
    
16. BIRDHOUSE IN YOUR SOLE (Google) - It might help if you spelled “soul” correctly.
    
17. atlanta turducken (Google) - What the hell? Is this the New Food for 2005?
    
18. http://elisson1.blogspot.com (Google)
    
19. "zeeba neighba" (Google)
    
20. elisson (Google)
    
21. king ranch chicken (Yahoo)
    
22. king ranch chicken (Google)
    
23. "chocolate pie" recipe, Goode Company (Google) - For the record, I think Goode Company has excellent barbecue. Their chocolate pie, alas, sucks.
    
24. "rectum, damn near killed" (Google)
    
25. how can you grow back tron betta fins (Google) - Unless these fish live in an old Disney movie, I think the word is “torn.”
    

BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES #124

Get out those marshmallows, kiddies - it’s time once again for this week’s Roundup of Blogshite, otherwise known as the Bonfire of the Vanities. This week’s Pile o’ Putrid, Purulent Posts is presided over by Demosthenes.

You may have been looking for an honest man, Bub, but what you found was a Huge Heap of Parrot-Droppings.

STORY TIME

There are some Children’s Stories that have a peculiar effect on me, that resonate far in the back of the brain. Even today, reading them gives me the strangest sensation of having dug deep, deep into my own Personal Memory.

It’s most likely a consequence of my learning to read at an early age. I began deciphering the English alphabet and reading at the age of three. I have very clear memories of the first books I read: one was a collection of Aesop’s fables, another was an illustrated edition of Carl Sandburg’s Rootabaga Stories.

One day, my parents arranged for a teacher to visit in order to see just what it was I was doing with these books. I still have vague memories of her visit, this woman who had to be, in my three-year-old eyes, the Oldest Living Human on the Planet. She listened to me read from my Aesop’s Fables book and apparently was convinced that I was not just reciting the words by rote. At one point – I cannot remember whether it was during this teacher’s visit or at some other time – my father gave me a paragraph to read from the New York Times, which I did, slowly and laboriously sounding out each unfamiliar word.

When the world of books is opened to such a young mind, the earliest impressions are buried in one’s most primitive memories, impressions that may be all but untraceable years later but which are still there.

I remember reading one story that was about a child who had to do without animal products – wool, meat, milk, eggs – and after a day or so, then had to do without vegetable-based products – cotton, etc. Was the privation the result of a wish gone awry? I cannot remember. I do know that the story ended with the world restored to its normal state, with the child enjoying a new-found appreciation for the everyday Manufactured Items surrounding him. What I don’t know is what book the story appeared in or who wrote it...questions that have nagged at me for years when I have nothing else to worry about. (Harh!)

And then there was the above-noted Carl Sandburg book, a collection of short stories for children that was originally published in 1922. Sandburg had written these stories with the intention of creating fairy tales that were uniquely American, with trains and skyscrapers in lieu of kings and wolves. One in particular made an impression on my Toddler Mind, the story of a family (the Huckabucks) who found a silver buckle inside a squash, an omen that their lives were about to change. I don’t know what it was about that story that attached itself to the back of my brain, but upon finding a recent edition of Rootabaga Stories and discovering therein the tale of the Huckabuck family, I had the most bizarre sensation. It was almost as though my mental clock had been turned back a full fifty years. As looked at the pages, the illustrations and words appeared hauntingly familiar. “I remember this!” I thought, holding the book in my hand. As much as the words themselves, I had a fleeting memory of it was like to see them for the first time, when every page turned was a new adventure at the beginning of childhood.

And in some ways, it still is.

CARNIVAL OF THE RECIPES #65

The latest Carnival of the Recipes is up at Myopic Zeal.

In a nod to Veterans Day as well as to Election Day, the theme of this Carnival was “Red, White, and Blue.” So, of course, leave it to Mr. Smart-Brains to send in a recipe for a soup that will be, at best, a shade of green. Foo.

MAKE LIKE A TREE

and show your True Colors.

I love this time of year.

CARNIVAL OF THE CATS #86

Carnival of the Cats, Installment Number 86, is up at Curiouser & Curiouser, where Michael has, appropriately enough, a masthead that features a Cheshire cat.

Is that where Cheshire cheese comes from? Cheshire cat milk? Eeewwww.

THE GAZE OF HAKUNA

Hakuna stares at me with her Baleful Radioactive Gaze.™



Naw, just kidding. She’s really a sweetie. A tad skittish, but sweet.

I like the way the balusters cast parallel shadows in this image.

HOT SOUP, COMIN’ THROUGH

Now that the weather in Georgia - our part of it, anyway - is showing signs of being more autumnal, it’s time to enjoy a nice hot bowl of soup.

This recipe, adapted from one that appeared in Saveur magazine a few years ago, is also a good one for springtime, when the first onions of the season start showing up in local markets. It is very different from most people’s usual idea of “onion soup” - and it is superb.

Soup of Many Onions

4 small red new potatoes, scrubbed and cut in quarters
6 cups chicken stock (use water if no stock on hand)
4 tbsp butter
2 medium yellow onions, peeled, sliced
1 bunch scallions, trimmed, sliced
3 small leeks, trimmed, sliced (be sure to wash thoroughly!)
4 spring onions, peeled, sliced
3 cloves garlic, peeled, sliced
2 cups half-and-half
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Chopped chives

Place potatoes and chicken stock in a large pot. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium and simmer until potatoes are tender, about 10 minutes.

While the potatoes are cooking, melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Throw in all the onions and the garlic and cook about 15 minutes, or until the onions are soft. Be sure to stir the onions frequently so that they cook evenly without burning.

Transfer the onions to the pot containing the potatoes and stock once the potatoes are tender. Simmer for 5-10 more minutes, then remove from heat.

Dump the contents of the pot in a blender (do it batchwise if your blender won't hold all of the mixture at once) and purée. Return the puréed soup to the pot and add the half-and-half. Season to taste with salt and pepper; serve it forth in bowls and garnish with the chopped chives.

[For a kosher version of this recipe, use kosher chicken broth, parve margarine in lieu of the butter, and nondairy half-and-half.]

SURPRISE

Various sources have reported that Pope Benedict XVI has “reaffirmed creation as the driving force of the universe, describing the natural world as an ‘intelligent project’ and rejecting scientific thought that regards the history of the universe as random and directionless.”

In unrelated news, the Sun rose in the East this morning.

ASKED AND ANSWERED, PART II

Further Random Dialogue:

SWMBO: Do these braces make my teeth look fat?

Elisson: (...)

ASKED AND ANSWERED

Random dialogue overheard at dinner this evening:

SWMBO: Do these shoes make my feet look fat?

Elisson: (...)

CARNIVAL OF THE COCKROACHES #4

Welcome to the fourth installment of Carnival of the Cockroaches!

Submissions have been a wee bit light, of late. If this trend continues, it may push this Carnival to a once-per-month publication frequency. Of course, if this trend continues, it’s a sure indication that my Esteemed Readers are normal human beings and not a bunch of Deranged Idiots.

Let’s get right to it:

Blueberry, who writes Texas Oasis, invites us to consider the Palmetto Bug in all of its loathsome glory, and ponders, as well, the use of cats as Deputy Exterminators. Roaches and cats! In one post! I am so there, dude!

Can roaches be a source of Edible Protein? Carnival stalwart GuyK of Charming, Just Charming looks at this happy possibility, but notes concerns about allergies. Bub, it ain’t allergies you gotta be worrying about - it’s projectile vomiting when people realize what those Popcorn Crisps are made of...

My friend Coochy Cootie tells me that it’s time to wrap things up at this short - but always tasteful - Carnival. Until next week...remember to turn on the light before you walk into the kitchen at night!

Linked to the TTLB Übercarnival.

[Coochy Cootie ©1970 by Robert Williams. Used without permission...but with extreme respect and admiration!]

Technorati tags: Carnival, Cockroaches

VETERAN’S DAY

To all those who have put yourselves in harm’s way to defend our country: I thank you.

To those who have suffered: May your pain be eased.

To those who have died: May you be bound up in the bond of Eternal Life.

FRIDAY RANDOM TEN

What? Friday already?

That means it’s time once again for Yet Another Random Selection o’ Goodies from the iPod d’Elisson. Let’s see what’s playing today, shall we?

1. Koko - Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Byrd
   
2. Fire and Heights - Matisyahu
   
3. Anima Mundi: Living Waters - Philip Glass
   
4. This Flight Tonight - Joni Mitchell
   
5. Montana (live) - Frank Zappa
   
6. Tank Graveyard - Paul Cantelon
   
7. The Cold Part - Modest Mouse
   
8. Run For Your Life - The Beatles
   
9. The AOL Song - Weird Al Yankovic
   
10. First There Is A Mountain - Donovan
    

I believe that assortment includes items from every decade from the 1950’s to the Oughty-Oughts - except maybe for the 1980’s.

It’s Friday. What are you listening to?

WHAT DOES YOUR DADDY DO?

In lieu of the usual Show-and-Tell, the third-grade teacher decided to ask the children to share a little Family Information. “What does your Daddy or Mommy do?” was the question of the day, and one by one, the children stood up and talked about the various Parental Occupations:

“My Mommy works in the library.”

“My Daddy is a fireman.”

“My Daddy is a lawyer.”

“My Daddy is a dentist. He fixes people’s teeth.”

After this had gone on for a while, the teacher noticed little Jimmy, who sat very quietly by himself in the back of the classroom, looking morose. She tried to draw him in to the class discussion. “Jimmy, can you tell us what your Daddy does?”

Jimmy stood up reluctantly. “My Daddy died last year.”

What could the teacher say?

“Oh, that’s a shame, Jimmy. Before he died, what did your Daddy do?”

.
.
.
.
.
.
.

“Oh, he turned blue and shit on the rug.”

FRIDAY ARK #60

Steve (the Modulator) has posted the latest Friday Ark. Like clockwork, that boy is.

I’ll be posting the Carnival of the Cockroaches later today. If you have a Buggy Post, send it in - late submissions are OK. It’s not as though I’m struggling to deal with a flood of entries, fer crying out loud. Details are available here.

THE YEAR OF LIVING PENETRATEDLY

This post has enormous TMI potential, but if people can blog about such horrors as blood squirting out of their asses, surely this is not so terrible.

In the span of less than a twelvemonth, all of my Major Orifices were penetrated. Medically, that is.

Roll back the clock. It was August 2002, and when I went under the knife to have my deviated nasal septum un-deviated, little did I realize that that surgery – my first ever – was to be the Opening Shot in a year-long Volley o’ Procedural Fun.

Strange as it seems, my biggest concern as I lay on the operating table was that I would become nauseated from the anesthetic. I had no intentions of spoiling what was then a 31-year No-Puke Streak. As it turned out, that was not a problem.

General anesthesia is strange. You lie on the table while the anesthesiologist injects a bolus of Powerful Soporific into your IV, and the next thing you know, you’re dressed and ready to be wheeled out the door. What the fuuuuuhhhhh… Weird.

Even stranger, as you begin to come out of the druggy haze, you can speak coherent sentences without having a shred of memory of them later. That is a little scary.

But I digress. Nasal septoplasty: Orifice Number One.

Five months later, I found myself once again on the receiving end of a Medical Penetration, this time to retrieve a recalcitrant Kidney-Stone. I was out of town when I discovered the problem (aaarrggghhh), and the hospital in Novi, Michigan that took care of me was kind enough to send me home with pain pills and a strainer. Thanks oh, so much. My urologist would have none of that: she (yes, she) decided to go right in and grab it.

Oy.

That was Orifice Number Two.

Having turned fifty the prior year, it was now time for That Procedure The Old Guys Get, in which a viewing device approximately the size of a firehose is delicately threaded up the old keister. The good news is, my gastroenterologist found no problems (kenahora). Bad news is, the preparation for the procedure is a mite…unpleasant. Ever hear that expression “It went through (whatever) like a dose of salts”? I’m here to tell you that a dose of salts will go right through you, indeed, and it will take everything with it. Meals I hadn’t seen in years. A DeSoto radiator – wait, that was a standing rib roast I ate in 1978.

Orifice Number Three.

The final Bodily Violation came in July 2003, when, after many years of foot-dragging, I finally had my wisdom teeth taken out. Being in no hurry to have any kind of possibly unpleasant Dental Work performed upon me, I was waiting for an intractable problem to show up that would force me to act. It came, finally, in the form of a hairline crack in one of the third molars. I had decided long ago that if I had to have one taken out, I’d have ’em all pulled out at once…and I did.

Thanks to liberal amounts of nitrous oxide and Versed, I had no idea what the process was like. They could’ve stood on my head to pull those damn things out; I would not have cared.

That was Orifice Number Four.

Four major orifices in the span of less than one year. Did they miss anything? Yes, if you count the ears…

GETTING SOME ACTION

There’s another one of those dopey Web-based quizzes going around, and for once, I couldn’t resist: Which Action Hero Would You Be?

The answer’s obvious:

You scored as James Bond, Agent 007. James Bond is MI6’s best agent, a suave, sophisticated super spy with charm, cunning, and a license to kill. He doesn’t care about rules or regulations: he is somewhat amoral. He does care about saving humanity, though, as well as the beautiful women who fill his world. Bond has expensive tastes, a wide knowledge of many subjects, and he’s usually armed with a clever gadget and an appropriate one-liner. James Bond, Agent 007 75% Indiana Jones 75% William Wallace 75% Lara Croft 71% Maximus 67% Batman, the Dark Knight 67% Captain Jack Sparrow 63% El Zorro 58% Neo, the "One" 58% The Terminator 54% The Amazing Spider-Man 50% Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com

Aw, I knew it all along.



[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Bane.]

AN ABCEDARIAN POEM

A is for Asshole, tucked deep in my pants.
B is for Bad; it’s the way that I dance.

C is for Cockroach, living under the sink.
D is for Dogshit: hoo, boy, does it stink!

E is for Eli, that Daddy of mine.
F is for FUBAR, like I am all the time.

G is for Gonif: that’s Yiddish for thief.
H is for Hanger, a fine cut of beef.

I is for Itch, relieved when I scratches.
J is for Junk-Mail, arriving in batches.

K is for Klepto (see “Gonif” above).
L is for Lust, but it’s also for Love.

M is for Monkey, our simian sibling.
N is for Numbnuts. To be one’s no good thing.

O is for Ordure, that’s shit in the street.
P is for Penis. To have one is neat.

Q is for Queef; it’s a rude sort of sound.
R is for Rectum; its outlet is round.

S is for Salt-Mine, the place where I work.
T is for Turd. In punchbowls it may lurk.

U is for Ugly. Michael Moore with pants off.
V is for Vicks. It’s f’cold and f’cough.

W is for Wax, which in Ears you may find.
X is for Xanax; it eases the mind.

Y is for Young, new-arrived on the Earth.
Z is for Zilch, which is what this shit’s worth.

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to the Goober Queen. I took her idea and crapped all over it.]

LOVE CRAFT

Little Cthulhu, little Cthulhu,
With shoggoths on your chin,
Always in and out of trouble,
But mostly always in.

Using Daddy’s necktie for the tail of your kite,
Using Mommy’s lipstick for the letters you write.

Oh, the clock says 7:30 -
It’s really after ten.
Looks like Cthulhu’s been repairing it again.

Though you’re wild as any Zulu
And you’re just as hard to tame,
Little Cthulhu, I love you-lu
Just the same, the same.
Little Cthulhu, I love you-lu
Just the same.

(Enough to cause H. P. Lovecraft to rotate in his grave, what?)

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to The J-Walk Blog for the image.]

DON’T FORGET...

...to get your submissions off to The Carnival of the Cockroaches. Even now, our Research Team is checking out your pantry, along with all that crap you have stored in the basement...

The Carnival of the Cockroaches is your chance to show off your Cockroach- or Other Insect-Related Posts. Stories, photos, whatever. RFOAC’s (Reasonable Facsimiles of a Cockroach) are fine, too.

Send in your submissions by e-mail at elisson1 (at) aol (dot) com (be sure to include “Carnival of the Cockroaches” in the subject line)...or leave a comment on this post with your permalink. Even better: use Ferdy’s handy Carnival Submission Form: simply fill in the blanks and hit the “Submit Your Post” button.

Posts received by 9:00 pm EST Thursday are assured of a spot in the Carnival. Yeah, I know. “Be still, my beating heart.”

STRANGE BLOGFELLOWS

I see that Laurence Simon has discovered The Religious Policeman.

I would love to arrange a dinner meeting between these guys.

Neocon Jew meets left-wing Saudi Arab. [I’m presuming that the Policeman is legit.] Same snarky sense of humor, and a shocking degree of alignment between their worldviews.

Gawd, there are some times I love Bloggy-World.

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Dave Boxenhorn of Rishon Rishon for the link that originally tipped me off to the Policeman’s existence.]

STRESS

Talk about “Performance Anxiety”...

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Zeldie for the pic.]

SHOCKING NEWS

It has been reported that the The Famously Constipated Dooce™ is no longer Famously Constipated, and in fact has been crapping and farting on a regular basis for the past several months.

In unrelated - but equally probable - news, the Earth fell off its fuckin’ axis earlier today.

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS IN MUSIC

On the way into The Great Corporate Salt Mine this morning, I was listening to my snazzy new iPod. The Red Box has one of those handy little sockets that allows me to plug the iPod directly into the car’s sound system so I can play it through the car’s speakers. Convenient.

With the iPod set on “shuffle” mode, you never know what will come up next. This is nice, because it’s hard to get bored with a completely random selection of music. Insane, maybe, but never bored.

When “Helen Butte,” an extended cut from On The Corner, Miles Davis’s 1972 electronic funk-fest, came on, it reminded me of a strange concert I had attended in November 1969 – 36 years ago this very month.

Strange, yes. For the concert was a Simon and Garfunkel concert at Madison Square Garden in New York City, and the opening act was Miles Davis, fresh off the creation of his legendary Bitches Brew album. You couldn’t ask for two acts that were more polar opposites.

Simon and Garfunkel were famous for hit songs like “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme,” “I Am A Rock,” and “The Sounds of Silence.” Their most recent album, Bookends, featured the hit song “Mrs. Robinson,” from the film The Graduate, as well as “America,” which would appear decades later in Almost Famous. S&G’s next release, Bridge Over Troubled Water, would take them into softer territory, with the title cut being a prime example. Immensely popular at the time, Simon and Garfunkel wrote literate songs that appealed to the Suburban White Young People Crowd...and made good use of Art Garfunkel’s ethereal voice.

Miles, on the other hand, was something else entirely. With Bitches Brew, Miles and his group rewrote the Rules of Engagement with respect to jazz-rock fusion, creating intricate, layered compositions that shifted and flowed. If you watch the 2004 Tom Cruise movie Collateral, you can get a taste of Bitches Brew: that song you hear in the jazz club is “Spanish Key.” Davis’s appearance as an opener for Simon and Garfunkel was clearly an attempt to see whether his new electrified jazz-rock amalgam would sell with the White Kid Crowd.

All I can tell you is, we listened to that strange music with our jaws hanging open, saliva pooling on the floor. It was as though we had been poleaxed. Nobody knew what to make of it. What the fuck is this? we thought.

Less than three years later, I saw Miles in a much more intimate venue – Alexander Hall at Princeton University. By then, he was deep into the bizarre electro-funk of On The Corner – and I loved it. My ability to appreciate and understand jazz had undergone a sea change in those few years, and it was then that I realized just what it was that we had been privileged to hear back in November of 1969.

Miles was the real star of that 1969 concert, only most of us didn’t know it at the time.

CARNIVAL OF THE VANITIES #164

This week’s installment of the Carnival of the Vanities is up at John Bambenek’s Part-Time Pundit. Be sure to check out the fine collection of posts that John has assembled.

SHOVE A PIN...

...in my Frappr! map.
Tell all the world: “I read El’s crap!”
Don’t matter if you comment or if you lurk,
Or whether you like me or think I’m a jerk.

[This post will remain at the top a while.
When my map looks right, it’ll go in the Shit-Pile.]

CALL ME IMELDA

If Matata were reincarnated as a Bifurcated God, I’m sure the Bifurcated God she’d want to be is Imelda Marcos.

It’s the shoes, you see.

Well, maybe not the shoes. The honkin’ big closet where they were kept. A closet big enough to hold 3000 pairs of shoes certainly has room for a Modestly Chubby Kitty, yes? And perhaps a nice piece of plastic to nestle upon?

A DARK SECRET

stands revealed.

Yes, Esteemed Readers, there is more to me than the sunny Happy-Face I put on during the day. There is much more...and some of it is Sinister and Perverse.

But my Dark Secrets must now face the white-hot light of day, thanks to Mr. Dax Montana.

Yeah, leave it to a guy who grows turgid at the sight of a lady with an eye-patch, who harbors dreams of Fleshly Congress with the empty orbit beneath...

Leave it to him to rat me out.

TURDUCKEN

Roxanne, she who writes at Rox Populi, got me thinking about turducken, that quintessentially Cajun poultry treat that consists of a chicken stuffed into a duck, in turn stuffed into a turkey. The birds are deboned (the turkey, partially so) and each is also packed with a different stuffing. The net effect is that of a huge, (mostly) boneless pile of meat and stuffing that can be carved into neat slices.

Rox made the statement that turducken was among the dishes that would never be served in her house. Well, I’m a Thanksgiving traditionalist, too, but I never say never, especially when it comes to food.

Well, head cheese. There’s that. If I had a culinary “No-Fly Zone,” head cheese would definitely be in it. Feh.

It’s been a few years, but She Who Must Be Obeyed and I had a turducken a few years ago. More than one, in fact. Some friends in Houston served one up at a Thanksgiving dinner, and it was a Real Experience, that rare combination of Perverse and Tasty.

We liked it so much, we decided to have one of our own at a New Year’s Eve party we were planning to host here in Atlanta. How to get a turducken, though – that was the tricky part.

Today, owing to its burgeoning popularity among lovers of Excessively Meaty Dishes, turducken is easy to score on the Internet, and it even shows up in local supermarkets here. But a few years ago, this was not the case. You had to be in Cajun Country – or in the greater Houston area, at least – to find it. And we just happened to be in Houston, visiting the Momma de SWMBO at the tail end of December. Bingo!

We found a suitable turducken at the local Randall’s, which we purchased – it was, I recall, about $60, a hefty sum for a holiday bird - and packed into an ice chest for the 15-hour drive home. Every so often, we would replenish the ice in the chest, ensuring that our costly, rare treat would still be edible once we got it home.

Our Cajun Culinary Chimera was a great success. Plenty of meaty, meaty goodness, enough to feed a small army. Easy to carve, too, without them pesky bones.

It’s not something I would eat every year, and the turducken certainly is no replacement for the traditional Thanksgiving gobbler. But it’s an offbeat, if somewhat pricey, treat, one that I would happily serve to Roxanne if only to show her that it’s not bad at all.

But wait: there’s more. In the spirit of Wretched Excess, we could extend the concept ad absurdum: How about a quail stuffed into a duck stuffed into a chicken stuffed into a turkey stuffed into an emu? Then you could take the whole mess and cram it into a Deboned Alligator. Now, that’s Cajun!

“Just because its name starts out with ‘turd’ doesn’t mean it’s not good to eat.” Thus sayeth Elisson.

HOUSE OF CARDS

Aaron, the resident genius at Aaron’s cc: (formerly Aaron’s Rantblog) is accepting nominations for bloggers to be included in A Blogger Deck of Cards. To be eligible, your site must have Large Mammal or higher status in the TTLB Ecosystem.

There are a few sites that I want to nominate.

First on the list is Laurence Simon of This Blog Is Full Of Crap. A self-confessed neocon, he is a stalwart supporter of Israel, a Cat Lover (ever hear of Carnival of the Cats?), and a tireless writer (fifty billion posts in two weeks!). Even more important, he has a sense of humor. I think he’s Face Card material, myself. Let’s put him with the Spades, because if you got Crap, you need a Shovel to pick it up with.

Second would be Velociworld, the fevered-brain creation of V-Man his ownself. Velociman is a storyteller whose Mad Skillz place him beyond envy...plus, he mixes a Mean Artillery Punch. Spades, again, ’cause the spade cometh in handy for Stirring the Punch.

Third is David Bogner of Treppenwitz. David writes with humor, heart, insight, and intelligence. His perspective on Mideast politics is rational, yet hopeful. Plus, he remembers Burma-Shave signs. He’s a Diamond, for sure.

Fourth is me. Why? Because I have a Big Fucking Ego™. And besides, as Hillel said, if I am not for myself, who will be for me? Suit preference? Diamonds...and yet, and yet...see below.

I’m sure I’ll think of some more...and if you’re hard up enough to need my Stamp of Approval, just drop me a comment and I’ll be happy to nominate you.

Which card do I want to be? Why, the Joker...of course. ’Cause most conventional decks don’t have an “Asshole of Diamonds.”

EXCEPTIONALLY LARGE POULTRY

Navigation in this modern day and age is not what it used to be, now that we have High-Tech Gizmos like GPS systems and web-based tools like MapQuest, Google Maps, Google Earth, et alia.

Where all this High-Tech Crap falls flat on its face, however, is that it does not use landmarks. Exit numbers, route numbers, yes: landmarks, no. And, especially for us guys, landmarks are important.

It has something to do with the way the Male Brain works. Probably hard-wired right in there, along with the Extreme Reluctance to Ask Directions. But there’s no question that for most males - and possibly for most females as well - directions that include landmarks are far easier to deal with.

Here in Marietta, Georgia (pronounced “May-Retta” by the locals), we have the Ultimate Landmark, serving as both an Obvious Spot on the Map and as a Monument to American Restaurant Kitsch. I speak, of course, of the Big Chicken.


The Big Chicken was originally the brainchild of Tubby Davis, who owned a greasy spoon called Johnny Reb’s back in the early 1960’s. Casting about for a way to give his place an eye-catching Distinctive Look, he arranged to have one Hubert Puckett design and build what Atlanta Citysearch called “the world’s first and only postmodern cubist steel chicken,” soaring fifty feet above the roofline of the restaurant below it.

Over time, Johnny Reb’s became a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet, and the Big Chicken remained. Over time, it fell into disrepair, and after a damaging storm in 1993, KFC was ready to pull the plug on The Great Cluckster. An outcry from the community resulted in the refurbishment of the Chicken, complete with fresh paint job, restored old-school Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pepsi-Cola logotypes, and revamped machinery that allowed the Big Bird to roll its eyes and open and close its beak.

But advertising and historical value aside, the real importance of the Big Chicken lies in its usefulness an a Directional Landmark, even today. A typical set of Navigational Instructions around here will include some reference to the Chicken:

“You wanna get to Harry’s? Just go up Cobb Parkway and hook a right at the Big Chicken - it’ll be on your right just past the freeway underpass.”

“We’re off of Roswell Road, about eight miles east of the Big Chicken.”

Und so weiter.

Hell, if they had torn the thing down in 1993, there would still be, a dozen years later, people wandering around North Georgia, unable to find their bearings and unwilling to ask.

Guys, of course.

MUSICAL INTERLUDE

(L-R) Ike Willis, Eric Svalgard, Denny Walley, André Cholmondeley.

Thursday night was Music Night. One of my favorite groups, Project/Object, was in town at the 5 Spot, a club in Little Five Points directly across the parking lot from Variety Playhouse.

I’ve mentioned Project/Object before. Their musical repertoire consists solely of the music of the late Frank Zappa. One could easily dismiss them as a mere cover band, except for two things: (1) their lineup always contains several alumni from Zappa’s various bands, and (2) their amazing technical proficiency, necessary if they are to do justice to their Source Material. Seeing P/O is more like seeing an honest-to-Gawd Zappa show, except for the fact that Eff Zee himself is not there.



The lineup Thursday included Glenn Leonard (drums), Dave Johnsen (bass), Eric Svalgard (keyboards and vocals), André Cholmondeley and Ike Willis (vocals and guitar), Napoleon Murphy Brock (vocals, sax and flute), with special guest (i.e., local Atlanta-area resident) Denny Walley (vocals and guitar). As is their custom in Atlanta, they played a set that ran close to five hours, with but a single break.

One nice thing about P/O - they play venues that are small enough so that you can get up close and personal. And the crowd has a broad age distribution - plenty of Old Farts like me, but lots of younguns in their early-to-mid 20’s who were not even gleams in their parents’ eyes when I caught my first live Zappa show back in 1973.

The evening’s Musical Selections included numerous favorites: “Titties and Beer,” “Idiot Bastard Son,” “San Ber’dino,” “Village of the Sun,” “Keep It Greasey,” “Easy Meat,” “Crew Slut,” “I’m the Slime,” “Advance Romance,” “Uncle Remus,” “Peaches en Regalia,” “Outside” - and many more. I was especially pleased to hear them play “Cheepnis,” the Zappa sendup of cheap 1950’s science-fiction movies that first appeared on the vintage-1974 Roxy & Elsewhere live album.

[Extra-Special Bonus Question: What 1990’s Saturday morning cartoon series made a subtle reference to “Cheepnis” in one of its episodes?]

For my money, the extended jam that started with “Uncle Meat” and segued into “Pound for a Brown” was the highlight of the show...unless you count seeing the ten-year-old kid that somehow showed up there at the club, wearing a “Titties and Beer” T-shirt.

Oh, and did I mention that a certain Occasionally Mulleted Individual was there with me?


Occasionally Mulleted Individual (L), Eric Svalgard (R).

CARNIVAL OF THE CATS #85

The Eighty-Fifth Edition of Carnival of the Cats is up at pages turned. SFP has broken the Carnival into three easy pieces - be sure to visit them all!

HAVEIL HAVALIM #43

Haveil Havalim, the weekly roundup of Jewish-themed posts, is up at Random Thoughts. Pay a visit; it wouldn’t hoit!

FRIDAY RANDOM TEN(ON SATURDAY THIS WEEK)

OK, OK - things were a little frantic yesterday, so I did not get a chance to post the Friday Random Ten. But today’s day-late, dollar-short selection from the iPod d’Elisson is equally random:

1. Shorty Falls In Love - Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks
   
2. E Luxo So - Stan Getz & Charlie Byrd
   
3. Brandenburg Concerto #6 in B Flat (Bach) - 1. Allegro - Trevor Pinnock
   
4. Boys - The Beatles
   
5. Tupelo Honey - Van Morrison
   
6. There Is Life Outside Your Apartment - Avenue Q, Original Broadway Cast
   
7. Potala - Philip Glass (from Kundun
   
8. Le Banquet - Yann Tiersen (from Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain)
   
9. Bublitchki - The Klezmer Conservatory Band
   
10. Hilted - Max Tundra
    

It’s Friday Saturday. What are you listening to?

SUNNY

Matata has found a new place to bask in the morning sun: the treads of the front stairs. Aaaahhhhhh.

SMART GUY

You can generate your own snazzy Einstein-at-the-blackboard pic here.

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Rocket Jones.]

FRIDAY ARK #59

Steve, the Modulator, has this week’s Friday Ark up and running.

Why? Because it’s Friday, dammit!

CARNIVAL OF THE COCKROACHES #3

Welcome to Carnival of the Cockroaches, Number Three!

They say that the third time’s the charm. How true, when you’re talking about these charming little beasties. Harh.

As I noted last week, in order to make things a little more interesting (and maybe get a few more submissions), we’re opening this Carnival up to the Whole Insect World. Cockroaches rule, but we will let their Buggy Brethren get a few words in edgewise.

This week, the beauteous Phylameana lila Désy of Spiral Visions writes about how ants are Model Overachievers. I wonder if they have little tiny books about the Seven Habits of Successful Formicidae. Oh, and clever post title, too (Ant Lessons / Art Lessons). Heh. Indeed.

Denise, who gives you a daily dose of herself in - you guessed it - Daily Dose of Denise, tells a story with a Roachy Punchline, one that actually involves lotsa little RFOAC’s. [That’s “Reasonable Facsimile Of A Cockroach,” in case you were wondering.]

The most charming GuyK (Charming, Just Charming) tries to figure out how to instigate a war between the Spiders and the Cockroaches. Not only does it save on insecticide, but it’s more entertaining...and may lead the way to new horizons in International Politics. If we could only figure out how to get the radical Islamists and the North Koreans to square off...

And, as if that were not enough, GuyK has another Buggy Post - this one on Persian Gulf kids huffing Squashed Ant Remnants. Just how fucking desperate must you be to try this? Inquiring minds want to know.

I can’t close this Carnival out without relating a little Buggy Tale of my own. About two years ago, She Who Must Be Obeyed was at a shopping area near the school where she works, and she saw a Remarkably Huge Beetle lying dead on the ground. So intrigued was she that she got a baggie and collected the damn thing.

When she showed it to me, I nearly had a fucking heart attack. The meaty little bastard was fully as large as my thumb (actually a bit larger in diameter) and had a nasty set of pincers. I identified it as a sort of North American rhinoceros beetle, and we kept it in its little baggie until we discovered, a week or two later, that there were things living inside that beetle’s corpse...little white squirmy things...

Well, once again, Cuco Eddie is telling me that it’s time to wrap up this edition of Carnival of the Cockroaches. Tell all your Bug-Loving Friends about us...and don’t forget our sister Carnival, the Circus of the Spineless, the October edition of which is up at Snail’s Tales.

Linked to the TTLB Übercarnival.

[Cuco Eddie ©2005 by Lalo Alcaraz. Used without permission...but with extreme respect and admiration!]

Technorati tags: Carnival, Cockroaches

HI, NEIGHBOR

After a weekend stay at the Veterinary Hospital, Neighbor, the Mistress’s kitty, is on the mend and is now back home.

Here, the Mistress and I give Neighbor a few skritches in the Examining Room. That’s “skritches,” not “stitches.”

CARNIVAL OF COMEDY #27

Taleena (now, there’s an exotic and beautiful name for ya), at Sun Comprehending Glass, hosts this week’s Carnival of Comedy - number 27, for those who keep track of such things.

Here’s a not-so-random quote:

“blog d’ellison [sic] has a profanity laced post on condom marketing.”

Hmm. Let’s take a closer look, shall we? Upon checking, the post in question contains only one example of profanity: a sad, lonely fuckbomb...admittedly, used as The Verb (“fuck our brains out”), not simply an expletive. None of the other of the “Big Seven” Serious Profanities* figure in the post.

Mature themes? Yes. The following expressions may be found:

• butt plugs
  
• Big Johnson
  
• salami
  
• Personal Meat
  
• dick

But what do you expect in a piece on Condom Marketing, anyway?

Profanity laced? Hardly. How about “Containing a nugget of chewy profanity and sprinkled with a delicate frosting of crude euphemisms. With schoolyard epithet!”

Now, that’s a downright tasty intro. Taleena - read and learn!

[*Note: Per George Carlin, the Seven Words You Can’t Say On TV are fuck, shit, piss, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits.]

COINAGE (A NERDIC RANT)

Every so often, I tend to hop up on my little soapbox and rant about how Butt-Ugly most of our nation’s circulating coinage is. [I do this at the risk of being labeled a Coin Nerd, but, well, there you are.] To wit:

The Lincoln cent. Nothing really wrong with it, per se, but they keep re-engraving Lincoln’s profile, adding more detail but flattening it out. The Lincoln Memorial reverse, which has been used since 1959, is much less appealing than the old Wheat Ears reverse it replaced. But to me, the main problem with the coin is that it has been around since 1909...almost 100 years! Perhaps they’ll retire the design in 2009...

The Jefferson nickel. Now that they’ve jazzed up this tired old coin by tinkering with the reverse (two new designs last year, two new designs this year) and the obverse (that dramatic new profile of Jefferson this year, plus a new one next year), I don’t have much to beef about. But that buffalo? Lame, lame. The one on the old Indian-head nickel was much better looking, in my not-so-fucking-humble opinion.

The Roosevelt dime. Not bad, but Gawdamighty, the damn thing has been around since 1946...almost 60 freakin’ years. Give it a rest, people.

The Washington quarter. Oh, I could go on and on. Putting aside the whole matter of the Statehood quarters, the familiar eagle-back design is a travesty of Mint Justice. It’s not horrible, mind you, until you compare it to what could have been:



Yes, this is the design that was rejected back in 1932. Why? Because the designer, Laura Fraser, was female - and the Director of the Mint was an asshole.

Now, as to the Statehood quarters, I’ll concede that they are a shot in the arm for the coin collecting hobby - and for the scam artists on the Home Stupid Shopping Network that offer the coins layered in 18k gold! or hand-colored! Some of the designs are quite pleasing - Connecticut, Oregon, North Carolina, West Virginia come to mind - yet most are pedestrian, boring, cluttered. And some, alas, are complete clusterfucks: Wisconsin (Cow head! Cheese!! Corn!!!), Kansas (could you have found an uglier buffalo image?), and pretty much any other one that features the outline of its state. Aside from the design flaws that result from being designed by committee, too much verbiage is crammed in, with the result that our quarters are the numismatic equivalent of Ten Pounds of Shit in a Five Pound Sack.

The Kennedy half. Beside the overengraving and flattening that afflict the Lincoln cent and the Washington quarters, there are no serious flaws with this coin...save for the fact that it does not circulate. Too bad. I remember when half dollars were a routine component of pocket change; I miss those days.

The Sacagawea “Golden Dollar.” Until they kill the dollar bill, this reasonably good-looking coin doesn’t stand a chance. [She Who Must Be Obeyed is always tickled when I rant on and on about this topic - until she realizes that excessive interest in coins (and stamps) is like the E-ticket to Nerd-O-Rama.]

I say, take Abe off the cent - he’s on the five-spot, fercryingoutloud - and slap someone else on there. Ben Franklin comes to mind. Yes, he’s on the C-note, but Poor Richard deserves to be honored with something more down-to-earth. Better yet, kill the one-cent coin off entirely, put Franklin on the dime...and use Laura Fraser’s classic design for the Washington quarter, as should have been done 73 years ago.

Who’s with me?

Oh, yeah...and this design for the Louisiana quarter? Just plain wrong. [Bwah hah hahhh...]

CARNIVAL OF SATIRE #7

Mark A. Rayner hosts the seventh Carnival of Satire at the skwib, with Yours Truly the lead-off batter.

Seven: the prototypical Lucky Number. Does this mean satirists will all be Getting Lucky today?

And, speaking of Carnivals, be sure to send in your submissions for Carnival of the Cockroaches. You can e-mail ’em to me at elisson1 (at) aol (dot) com, or just use Ferdy’s Carnival Submission Form. Any post having to do with roaches - or any other insects, for that matter - is most welcome. Feh.

HELP NAME V-MAN’S MONKEY

As is my custom, I am most helpful whan nobody has asked for, or desires, to be helped.

Nevertheless, Velocimonkeybait Velociman needs help. Afflicted with the happy company of Yet Another Simian Buddy, he is, and she’s a beauty:


[The V-Man attracts monkeys like rice do white; like a porch light do June bugs; like shit do flies. What is it about him?]

But she needs a name. Show your creativity in the comments!

Update: This Monkey Business is far worse than I thought.

A HALLOWE’EN POST...MORTEM

Monday night, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I were kept hopping by the 170 or so Trick-or-Treaters that roamed our neighborhood.

Plenty of cute little tykes, many of them so young as to be totally slack-jawed with wonder and cluelessness at the proceedings. I like it when the parents coach these little ones:

“What do you say?”

“Twickatweet...”

“Good!”

I especially like it when they remind the kids to say “thank you.” Conversely, I fucking hate it when kids who are Old Enough To Know Better mash the doorbell repeatedly, stand mutely at the door with sack outstretched, then waltz away without some basic Statement of Gratitude. And SWMBO? That kind of crap makes her blood boil...must be the teacher in her.

[SWMBO spends her whole day with middle-school kids, so Hallowe’en is her least-favorite holiday, what with having to deal with Yet More Kids all evening. As if that were not bad enough, she cannot eat any of the candy, thanks to her diabetes. Crap.]

We handed out Airheads. We had bought two honkin’ big sacks of Airhead miniatures at CostCo last month and proceeded to mislay them...fortunately (and yet, stupidly) we still had a couple of cartons of full-size Airheads left over from last year. Turns out we had just enough.

The beauty of Airheads is that the kids love ’em...and I hate ’em. Or at least, I’m not tempted to eat them, as I would be if we had them little Hershey Miniatures around. Fat-Ass in a Bag, they are.

To me, proper Hallowe’en observance requires that The Forms Be Obeyed. You must speak the Ritual Invocation: Trick or Treat. (Adding “Smell my feet, give me something good to eat” is lily-gilding.) And you must, upon receiving the Candiferous Swag, express appropriate gratitude: Thank You. And - this is important! - you must be Properly Costumed. If you are too fucking lazy to put on a costume, and especially if you are old enough to shave, you should be home watching porn and eating Chee-tos, not roaming the neighborhood clutching a pillowcase begging for Simple Carbohydrates.

Shaving cream applied to one’s posterior does not qualify as a proper costume.

Collecting for UNICEF? Get off my front steps and away from my house. [Fortunately, not a problem this year.]

Those who do not conduct themselves properly receive a flattened and scored Human Turd, cleverly wrapped to resemble a Hershey Bar.

CARNIVAL OF THE VANITIES #163

It’s as easy as 1-6-3 to check out the Best of the Bloggy-Sphere.

Just head over to freemoneyfinance, this week’s host of the 163rd Carnival of the Vanities.

Is there any significance to the number 163? Not much, except that NE 163rd Street in North Miami Beach was a main thoroughfare. It was on that street that I first learned the fine art of Ionizing the Atmosphere with Invective from my Grandma Ann; it was also on that street that my Uncle Phil had a hobby shop, a shop that was immortalized by Sabrina, the Teenage Witch.

Hmmm...maybe it’s a Significant Number after all!

STICK IT IN

A pin, I mean. In my oh-so-nifty Frappr! map. Stand up and be counted! Or, if you prefer, sit on your duff in front of your computer and be counted.

A WEEKEND IN SAVANNAH

We spent this past weekend in Savannah (“The Beautiful Lady with the Dirty Face”) visiting the Mistress of Sarcasm, accompanied by our friends Gary and JoAnn. The weather was dead solid perfect – cool, sunny, with low humidity – not all that common for Savannah, in our experience, but an extra treat.

Gary and JoAnn, owing to the passing of JoAnn’s mother, had missed the chance to visit Savannah during the Mistress’s graduation weekend back in May, so this was a chance to reacquaint them with the city: neither of them had spent any time there in the last 15 years or so.

When I was booking the hotel accommodations, I saw that most of our usual venues were unavailable. It turns out that Savannah was the focus of a “Perfect Storm” of events that packed the town with visitors:

• The Florida-Georgia game was being held just a couple of hours down the ’pike in Jacksonville, which meant that Savannah was a good stopping point for the hordes of people driving in from Atlanta.
  
  
• Savannah State University was having its Homecoming weekend, complete with parade on Broughton Street. It almost felt like the entire Homecoming celebration was centered at our hotel, given the packed conditions each morning at the “Scoop Your Own Cereal, Bake Your Own Honkin’ Big Waffle” breakfast buffet.
  
  
• And there was the Savannah Film Festival, a Big-Deal Event put on by SCAD, the Mistress’s alma mater.

This was my first chance to see the Mistress’s new digs. She Who Must Be Obeyed had helped her move in a couple of months ago, but this was the first opportunity I had to clap my own eyes on the place. Very nice. Hardwood floors throughout, nicely laid out, and decorated in minimalist fashion with excellent taste. Those years of Art School clearly did not go to waste.



Neighbor, the Mistress’s new Animal Companion, was unfortunately not at home. She had taken ill with some sort of Mysterious Kitty Affliction that necessitated a weekend stay at the local Animal Hospital. The good news was, she was well enough by Saturday morning to receive visitors, so we all had a chance to bond with this latest addition to Clan Elisson. Of course, she took a shine to me right away...


Elisson and Neighbor get acquainted.

Thanks in part to her new position as concierge at one of the tonier bed-and-breakfasts in town, the Mistress now knows where all the good restaurants are. We enjoyed Serious Dinners on both Friday and Saturday nights, the first at aVida Restaurant and Wine Bar on Broughton, the second just a few doors down from there at Gottlieb’s.


The Mistress’s workplace.

Both dinners were excellent, but the one at Gottlieb’s really stood out, with both food and service hitting a level we had not previously seen in Savannah. And, thanks to the Film Festival, there were some interesting personages dining scant feet away. The party of seventeen at the next table included Sidney Lumet (with credits that include Fail-Safe and Dog Day Afternoon, he had just come from the Festival where he received a Lifetime Achievement Award for directing); James Franco (late of the Spider-Man movies and a TV-movie portrayal of James Dean); and someone who looked suspiciously like Griffin Dunne (American Werewolf in London). The fellow running the show was legendary publicist Bobby Zarem, who had, earlier in the week, struck up a friendship with the Mistress’s boyfriend Mickey...and who, seeing Mickey with us, had come over to our table to be introduced to all of us. Zarem, who bears a vague resemblance to my Minyan Boyz buddy Irwin, was the (partial) inspiration for the character Al Pacino played in People I Know, and has played himself on a “Law and Order” episode (!)

Not every meal we had was a Fancy-Pants meal, of course. One of the nicest lunches we’ve enjoyed in a long time was at Back in the Day Bakery, a little place a couple of blocks from Chez Mistress that serves a killer chicken curry sandwich, hand-made marshmallows, and the densest, most evil chocolate brownie I have ever set teeth to. Oh, and did I mention Nanner Puddin’?

As if all this were not enough, there was a Jewish Food Festival on Sunday at Forsyth Park. One last chance to stuff our faces before heading home, it afforded an excellent opportunity to introduce some of the Mistress’s friends to the delights of blintzes, stuffed cabbage, and similar goodies.



It was tough to say goodbye to our little girl Sunday afternoon, but with Thanksgiving week rapidly approaching, we’ll be seeing her again soon (kenahora).

VIRTUAL OCCOQUAN

The latest edition of Virtual Occoquan is up and running. Visit and enjoy Mark Hoback’s carefully selected anthology of Fine Bloggy Writing.

BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES #122

The Smegmaster at smegmaster.com (sounds nasty if you parse it just so) hosts the 122nd Bonfire of the Vanities, complete with snazzy non-flaming Official-Looking Seal.

The Smegster and I share a common outlook in at least one respect: he subtitles his site “the apotheosis of time mismanagement,” while my Esteemed Readers know that Blog d’Elisson celebrates “self-aggrandizement and time-wastage.” Great minds...(you know the rest).