Green Eggs and Ham

I'm starting to think that tenacious rascal, "Sam, I am" might bear some responsibility for the tremendous drug problems of the last two generations. "Sam, I am" is, for small children, the proto-pusher. You think I'm taking it to far? Maybe, but even the guy who created Barbie conceded some responsibility for the proliferation of anorexic and bulimic girls - he gives his royalties to their rehabilitation.

But how do I connect "Sam, I am" to drugs, you ask? Let's face it, those eggs are green. Or maybe it's more a question of "the chicken or the green egg."

By the way, my childhood library was full of Dr. Seuss, and I escaped addiction. But there is that wocket in my pocket.

Reductio ad absurdum

A liberal war on Christmas? Not even going to get into how I feel about that idea, but click on the title for Salon's take on it.

In any case, I can't recommend this cultural history enough. I'm gearing up for a re-read.
Might give some people some persepective on the entire season. I think it could be a fine holiday, really I do.

Funny Things Said on a Date

She: You have a very strong back.
He: It's just tension.

She: My old roommate works on a commercial fishing boat with her father and brother. It's incredibly difficult work.
He: Yeah, it's hard; you're surrounded by a lot of death.

She: What are you doing on Christmas Eve?
He: Me and Billy and Chris are going to Jumbo's Clown Room (side note: Courtney Love was a dancer there).
She: Talk about cynical.

Crying Over (Spilled) Chocolate Milk

This is something straight out of a Harmony Korine film. It's worth suffering through the entire 3:29 minutes. Completely surreal. Click on the title.

Aggression breeds agression breeds...

I feel sorry for my future children, they will be utterly deprived of television, video games, and maybe even sugar. That's right, I'll be THAT kind of parent. They can beat each other with sticks for all I care, as long as they are OUTSIDE and creating their OWN games. Jesus Pete.

Why I Love My Neighborhood

Tonight there was a rather large neighborhood holiday party, peopled mostly by aging hippies, and other liberal species. The entertainment opened with an extremely lithe hulahoop dancer, who performed to some kind of Persian-ish music. It was very impressive and quite sensuous, oddly enough. The main event was, for the third year in a row, a group of 23 trombone players tooting Christmas Carols. The arrangements were quite complex, and the music was really beautiful. They played outside again, and walking home I could still hear them echoing down the canyon.

My little neighborhood, strange and lovely.

Sunday Dinner

For dinner tonight we had -

fruit and cheese
sweet pea soup with beet sour cream, garnished with radish and chive
seven grain molasses bread
beet mint salad
carrot salad with almonds, raisins, and yogurt dressing
green salad with ruby red grapefruit, avocado, and cilantro-lime-cumin dressing
mac and cheese
fig, shallot, mushroom, fig, ricotta and chevre tart
whiskey and challah bread pudding
apple and cranberry fruit tart

It's tough building a menu for vegetarians, but I love to cook.

Funniest moments - Julie talking about the "vagina chakra" (which didn't impress the yoga teachers one whit. Rima said, "Oh, you mean the Mooladhara? C'mon that's so last year), and "anal bleaching." Apparently even assholes have to have beauty standards.

-Ms. RPP ranting under the influence of Medical Herojuana that she was "good with the FBI," but at the "same time, they were looking into" her. No amount of questions could clarify this matter, which was entirely foreign to us. Finally Billy looks at me and says, "She's gone Kurt Vonnegut on us." Oh, the paranoid disposition.

-RPP gets another mention for drunken-stonedly marching out of her bedroom after Billy had sweetly "tucked her in," and proclaiming irascibly that, "It would have been better if you (Billy), had brought me some WATER!." At the time, she was clad in a shortish black T, panties, and a pink bandana. Billy looked at John and me and said, in that deliciously wry way of his, "She's getting ready to rob a stagecoach."

Biggest party no-no: Boys should not off-handedly talk long and loudly about how they can't really understand the monogamy thing ("I mean, one person for a lifetime?"), in front of girls they've only been dating for a month and a half. Especially when no one's been bucking for a promotion (read: commitment). It's just poor policy.

Dawn of the Dead

There IS a fine line between stupid and clever, but this is just plain great
Click on the title, above, or go to: http://electricbiscuitonline.blogspot.com/2005/10/dawn-of-knitted-dead.html

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver