A few days back I had occasion to visit New York on work bid'nez. I double up with some visitin' time: thanks Coveting, Unwellness, Listo, Youthlarge, Apes, and Kaci!
My pod
Why I was there- the location of a work function that seemed part 'Land of the Lost', part 'Wall Street', part 'Night at the Roxbury'.
Work....
A peregrine falcon (a touch of home) on the New York skyline.
Casa da Apes y Kaci. I want a ship at the end of my street.
Proof I was in Brooklyn being a tourist.
And why not?
The view from Youthlarge and Listo's apartment. Someone buy it from them: they need a second bedroom more than a skyline.
Happy parents (although you can see he has a cold, poor dear)...
Actually, its not that planned out- I was farting about with possible new templates and accidentally wound up with this. I rather like the fresh feel, but I am concerned that my inadvertent update buggered up my links. So if you'd be a dear and make sure your link lists and works, I'd me most grateful.
Love to all WW
PS: I used to be quite good at technology, but a couple of things in recent weeks are making me reassess my skill levels...
PPS: Can anyone help me find where that Amazon bar code is and how I can take it off the site? Sigh.
Hooray for Apes and Clocks! They brought the Brooklyn to the 04841 and were perfect ambassadors for the empire state. In return, we brought out the big guns:
How about that for a finale? A Sea Princess, a Sea Princess's deputy, Blackbeard, King Neptune, and the Weaselette? The Dalai Lama should be so honored.
When my friend Listmaker began his recent campaign to raise awareness about the inanity of the American radio interviewer Terry Gross I have to admit I was resistant to joining his charge. Ms. Gross may not always ask the most probing of questions on her show Fresh Air she does have good guests and her conversations with mendacious conservative blowhard Bill O'Reilly and mediocre bassist Gene Simmons are classics of the art.
Last night however Ms. Goss uttered a statement about her guest Rhett Miller (from the Old 97s) that brought me over to Listmaker's dark side. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you what might be Terry Gross's most idiotic comment to date. I wish I could find it verbatim, but this is as close as I can remember it:
We'll talk more with Rhett Miller about his serious- but thank god unsuccessful- suicide attempt...
I'm glad she pointed out that he was unsuccessful, otherwise she would have blown my mind, conducting a probing interview via a ouija board.
Bill Norris, the man who put the sex in Tex Mex, is a Yankees fan. I am a Red Sox fan. For a couple of years now, we have been operating under the following rules throughout the baseball season whenever the Sox and Yankees meet:
"So, I propose some sort of bet, to be played out here and in his own pages. Not anything of monetary consequence, as I am poor and he's soon to be betrothed, but rather something visual, to be blogged, a picture perhaps, of Wisdom sporting an "I Heart Jeter" shirt should the Yankees win the series and something equally mortifying to me in these pages should the unthinkable happen and the Red Sox win.
Then, as the season progresses, we can continue this, in the spirit of good natured ribbing and mutual mortification.
I'm willing to take suggestions on the terms, keeping in mind that the embarrassing gesture need be: a) cheap, b) easily blogged and c) funny."
This Friday the 2007 World Series champion Boston Red Sox meet the team that couldn't beat Cleveland for the first time this season. Its a three game series and by Sunday night either Bill or myself will have egg on our faces.
I already have a forfeit on hand (thanks to BioChris's eagle eyes) but both Bill and I feel the challenge needs a shake up. So we are soliciting suitable punishments from you all. If you follow the "betting" tag you'll see what we have done in the past. Be creative and keep it legal in Texas.
For the past two years it has been my distinct honour to offer up a humble selections of goodies that might appeal to readers in search of gift ideas for their loved ones. This year let us brook no exception, and plunge (collectively weeping) into:
Wisdom Weasel's Holiday Gift Guide, 2007. Yeah, He hath spoken typed
I did make that bit above blink but it was really annoying. Lets get to the gifts!
If you have to tolerate a numismatist in your life why not annoy the hell out of them with fake coins? Specifically, fake state quarters. My personal pick is Texas:
Although New York flipping everyone off is pretty good too.
For those of you resigned to eating fish on Friday and taking contraceptive advice from an elderly German who believes wankentuggen to be a mortal sin, why not wow the ladies with the whiff of Pope? Not Alexander Pope, but rather Pope Pius IX's cologne. You'll need the Swiss Guards to beat back the horde of mitre-hungry women.
Too phallocentric? Well, here's one for the ladies. Celebrate the fact that your leg hair is so long it's growing out on your moustache and a hairy mole just by your left ear with a Velvet Vulva purse. Not only does the bag have the power to render you unable to spell the word "magical", it also will separate the true new men from the boys at the local whole food co-op. If said fellow can look at your purse without blushing or grimacing he is truly worthy to worship at your musk temple. Buy yourself one today for winter solstice, because chances are if you are considering this purse your significant other is either made of plastic or is an utter wuss.
Now if that was all too much for the hairy knuckled bloke types out there, rinse your memory clean with these: Shower Breasts: no better way to show you are single (and to stay that way).
Everyone has a drunk who is near death in their family. Instead of all those tiresome interventions and drying out clinics, why not bow to the inevitable and buy the old sot one of these:
Chances are you'll get it back in the will, given that old drunks are pretty sentimental, so think of it less as a gift and more as a deferred investment.
Love installation art? Love music? Hate Italians? Get one of these.
If you happen to be a Scottish born leader of a G-8 nation eager to win back the respect of your electorate while putting clear blue water between yourself and your predecessor, why not invest in a poisoned chalice? Give Basra back to the sectarianly divided Iraqis. You'll get less of these:
But those poor sods in Southern Iraq will get more of these:
But they are used to it, eh? And now that Belfast has gone quiet, we Brits need somewhere for urban warfare training. I mean, without a divided and violent city to wade into occasionally, how are we going to trumpet our peacekeeping expertise?
OK, finally (thank god, eh?): for the person who has everything, facial lunch meat!
I am now deep into the second season of a Boston Red Sox versus New York Yankees mutual humiliation bet with the lovely Bill Norris. William is a displaced Yankees fan; I support the Sox (I am therefore support hose, if you prefer). Whenever one team inflicts a series defeat on the other, a horrible fate awaits the supporter of the losing side.
A couple of weeks ago the Yankees beat the Red Sox, and so I was challenged by Bill to:
"Choose one of the vocal numbers from No, No Nanette....and record an a capella version of the song, with the mp3 file to be posted your blog forthwith.....For those of you who don't know, baseball lore holds that Babe Ruth's move from Boston to New York was partly a result of then Boston owner Harry Frazee's desire to finance the original production of the musical."
Whatever. Fine. With help from technical wizard Canada Dry Mike and the contents of his well-stocked bier keller I was able to sing my heart out while terrifying his pets (thanks Mike: I know you are clutch if I ever need humiliating: John, I could not have stood to have this on video...):
As I type, game three of the last regular season Sox/Yanks meeting is about to begin in Boston (so apologies for any typos, I'm flying through this in order to get downstairs to settle in with a dark and stormy and the flicker). The series is balanced at one a piece- fingers crossed!
I keep meaning to write something about the awesome horror that is NESN's "Sox Appeal" Fenway Park dating show before it is put out of its misery, but everytime I start my hands begin to tremble uncontrollably. Therefore I will content myself by refering all and sundry to three newish-to-me blogs I rather enjoy:
Knut Albert's Beer Blog The adventures of a Norwegian beer fanatic who writes about the suds with such glee it makes me want to trundle to the nearest pub and slump in an easy chair with brew in hand. Maniac Muser and retired spousal unit: pick your poison next time you are up...
Growning Up In Maine Ed moved away, but he's still a Mainer in his soul and has the childhood spruce-inflicted bruises to prove it.
From Here to Paternity Scout's chum Hazel's dad: a much more eloquent take on Rock-around-the-clock-land based fatherhood than I have so far been able to muster.
"The United Countries of Baseball" from Strange Maps
I've long had a thing for maps. Relatives can attest to my sitting on the floor reading atlases, or whiling away long car trips with the road map on my lap oblivious to the view outside. I reacted with great pleasure therefore when I stumbled across Strange Maps.
I have no idea who is behind this garden of cartographic delights. I'm just glad they are taking the time to post.
My dear friend Mondale and his family (pictured above) are departing the United States for a new life in the wilds of eastern England tomorrow. It will be a harrowing, arduous 7 hour flight (with movie and meals) followed by a bit of a drive at the other end, but the price of a life of freedom, smaller houses, and access to Subbuteo is worth every metaphorical penny.
The life of a reimmigrant to the UK is hard- one runs the risk of being labelled an asylum seeker, of being firebombed from one's home, and of being hopelessly behind in the plot of Eastenders- but I know Mondale et al will thrive. As the man himself says,
"Tomorrow we fly to England. Forever."
I expect to see them back on vacation, July 2008, forever being a relative term.
Incredible. After a start to the baseball season that looked like I'd be having to dig deep to find all the various humiliations I was to inflict on friend Bill as part of our ongoing Red Sox/Yankees battle, the Bronx bastards turned around and pulled out series victory number two on the year. Therefore:
"I owe Weasel some retribution because, in an unlikely turn of events, the Yankees took two of three from the Sox in Fenway last week. Seeing as Scout is only recently arrived on the scene (and had the good sense to be born during a Sox/Yankees series), and I’m sure Weasel and family are quite busy with the adjustment, my terms will be simple: Weasel, please change your profile picture to a shot of young Scout sporting the “Yankees Suck” gear I sent your way for a couple of weeks."
Fine. In fact most kind of Bill, and very restrained on his part, I have to say.
She is a scrawny midget the onsie is a little large on her, but you'll appreciate the general effect:
It had to happen. Despite the fantastic performance of the Red Sox versus the Yankees so far this season, the day would come when they would drop a series against New York. Regular visitors to this blog may recall that I have an ongoing bet with Bill Norris that results in the infliction of humiliation on the loser of each round. And now Bill has set my punishment:
"Well, seeing as the Yankees really suck this season, my heart hasn't been in collecting on my bet with Weasel. But, as it is unlikely that I shall triumph again this year, I have finally decided on my terms. There is a semi-regular feature on Weasel's blog wherein he does the following:
'About a year ago I embarked on a project to write short posts about my ten favorite paintings over a 12 month period.'
So, Mr. Weasel, please go here and select any three of the prints on offer and subject them to fawning art criticism as if they are amongst those dozen pieces you call favorites."
OK:
Yankee Stadium, 2003 World Series
Right from the start, this image captivates with its wordless depiction of hubris and seemingly unstoppable evil. Of course, the observer already knows the result: that good triumphed and the improbable Florida Marlins beat the Yankees 4-2 that year. But that does not detract from the overall air of totalitarian menace so deftly captured by the photographer. Like Reifenstahl's Triumph of the Will, the very architecture of the place sets the tone for the undeniable totalitarian air and the swastika-like Yankees logo on the field and the Wehrmacht breast pocket eagle on the big screen suggest jackboots repeatedly stomping on the face of the weak, sporting, or disabled. This is an empire, and it is evil. Simply bone chilling, but with a nice flag to offset the horror.
Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio
Ah, the Splendid Splinter and Joltin' Joe- like Williams himself, a moment frozen in time. Proof that among the players at least, the rivalry used to be much more good natured. Or did it? For the subtext of this photo becomes apparent after a few hours of close study. Look at their hands; like A Rod, it appears that DiMaggio is trying to surreptitiously injure a Red Sox player in order to gain the most minute of advantages. Perhaps it is in retaliation for Williams having asked how Joe enjoyed spending his service days in California, Hawaii, and Atlantic City while Williams trained pilots in the Second World War then flew 38 combat missions in Korea, winning the Air Medal. A true study in layers.
Lou Gehrig
Given the era in which Gehrig played, this is a one-in-a-million shot. Bear in mind that during his playing career the polio ravaging President Franklin Roosevelt's body was kept secret from the American public, his wheelchair and sticks being kept out of public view and camera viewfinders by common consent. Yet here is Gehrig, ravaged by his eponymous disease, laboring towards the plate to face the first pitch. Look how the photographer candidly catches the sheer effort of baseball's original iron man, his sheer intestinal fortitude and refusual to give up investing every involuntarily shaky step. Indeed, this is a most inspiring image- one for the ages.
Last year I noticed that Kevin Youkilis of the Boston Red Sox resembled Popeye when at bat. Youk grew a beard in the off-season, and as a consequence he now resembles Bluto:
The big hearted, givin'-it-his-all Kevin Youkilis
Popeye's nemesis, Bluto
If next year Youk shows up with his hair in a bun, knobby knees, and signs of dramatic weight loss I think that will indicate that he plans on hitting for the Popeye cycle.
In other baseball news, the Sox dropped the last series to the Yankees. I now await my forfeit from Bill Norris with more trepidation than the prospect of those poo-filled nappies/daipers that wait me in my immediate future.
On a happier note however, I am very impressed with some of the search terms that have been leading people to this blog. I am humbled to think that I might be among the premier web destinations for updates for people who "hate swedes", who are interested in "three legged frog(s)", who have canine issues along the lines of "my dog ruined my carpet", or who want to know who holds the "world record for longest projectile vomit". Keep looking, seekers!
Its time once again for a quick wrap up of all the fun things happening in our little corner of the web, chums:
*Cuzzen Jim (my actual real-life, proper cousin) writes to say that:
"I'm on a mission. The lads in my pub quiz team have got me obsessed with this the last week. There really is no higher purpose than seeking to convert the entire OED into limerick form...."
It is a mighty task, but Cuzzen Jim is not alone. And if you want to partake in translating the Oxford English Dictionary into limericks, the info is there at the link.
*Public Radio International's "The World" ran a great story on Tuesday about remarkably successful Soviet efforts to map Britain in 1/250,000 scale so that the Ivan tank drivers would know where to go in the event they invaded. The interview is archived here. I wonder if Karl Marx's tomb in Highbury cemetery is marked, with cyrillic warnings to drive the T-72 around, not over, it?
*Dave over at Backword reports on the conservative version of Wikipedia, designed to combat "anti-christian and anti-American" biases in the orginal collective encyclopedia here. Dave quotes part of the entry on quantum mechanics:
"Quantum mechanics forms the basis for all computers and electronic devices today. Unfortunately, the idea of non-determinstic physics runs contrary to the Biblical worldview of an omnipotent diety. Thus, quantum mechanics remains a flawed, ultimately incorrect theory."
I'm frantically trying to get ready for Country Mouse and my trip to Blighty for the hols and yet seemingly everywhere I turn I get bombarded with more work and self-inflicted side projects. Oh wah, what a bummer: to be considered competent enough that people ask you to do things- get over your whiny self, Weasel.
Anyway, the point is that with all that has been going on I have been remiss in my duties as a host and haven't been sharing some of the interesting things going on in the land o' links. So please accept this as my reparation:
The learned Rikki, Esq has a comprehensive and readable look at the US Supreme Court's consideration of global warming over at Arguably So;
Listmaker's Baseball Diaries are cranking back to life, with his usual retrospective of a season's worth of dollar beers, access to organ lofts, cheap restaurants serving American fare two exits past the ballpark, and some occasional baseball;
Margaret Evans Porter has suddenly found herself elected to the NH State House (on the side of the good guys) and yet is still finding some time to enjoy the approach of New England winter;
Flying Rodent continues to frighten small children and old ladies;
J. Edward Keyes' photo-romance recaps of Gilmore Girls means I never have to waste time watching the show;
Whereas, I have been very busy working on an economic development project for school and; Whereas, I have to get up early and drive north for a seminar on substance abuse prevention tomorrow that will take all day, and; Whereas, I have to do more reading on the economic development thingie tomorrow night rather than idly blog, Let it be known that I shall partake of another meme, this time vouchsafed to me by Mac over at Stones in the Field, to whit:
5 Little-known Facts About Yourself
5) Many people, when they first meet me, think I am from Nebraska because I "don't look British".
4) I have absolute contempt for the telephone.
3) I am 28 years older than my twin sisters.
2) I have trouble with the order of the alphabet because I changed schools, going from "N" at one to "T" at the other. I still to this day have to recite the whole thing in my head when alphabetising.
1) I have always wanted my own chimpanzee but due to pesky ethics have dogs instead.
My usual tagging thing applies; lift it by all means but I won't force it on anyone.
I'm not a huge fan of memes but every now and then I get tagged for an interesting one. This time the Caledonian human ashtray and walking Tenants Super research laboratory Flying Rodent has passed along the poser, "What ten things would you never do?"
10. I will never say never again.
It worked for Sean Connery, didn't it? He made millions from that.
9. I will never wear tie dye.
Why would I want to drape myself in a pattern that looks like egg salad in various stages of putification? Before I get clobbered around the ear, that's not to say it doesn't look good on a woman (i.e. Country Mouse's one tie-dyed t-shirt) but there is something about male physiology that doesn't mix with hippie weeds.
8. I will never watch anything with Tom Cruise in it I haven't already paid for.
The idea of putting a portion of my earnings into his pockets makes me want to jump up and down on furniture. I had to qualify this one however so that I can still say "We were...inverted" in time with the DVD of Top Gun.
7. I will never fully understand calculus.
And I will be the poorer for it, both intellectually and financially. Damn you, computer programmers, I will never join your ranks.
6. I will never lose my taste for a good cup of tea.
A foul cup of tea, although invariably never offered by one's host, is another matter.
5. I will never eat the head of a turbot.
That's the only piece of useful advice I ever gleaned from the British TV show Minder.
4. I will never join the Elks Club.
If someone tapped me up to join the Masons I'd be in like a shot- all that nefarious skullduggery, secretive networking, and good works for charadee: I'd be mad not to. The Elks though: I see no primary social benefit to belonging to a group of people too fat for the local bowling league.
3. I will never dye my hair.
I've always wanted Elvis-black hair but having to dye my eyebrows and wear mascara to cover up my lashes would be too much maintenance.
2. I will never rule out the possibility of men carrying children to term in a bio-engineered "momb".
Someone somewhere is working on it, you know it.
1. I will never be able to grow a sustainable moustache.
After a weekend in Bar Harbor hearing from all and sundry how they thought the earthquake (below) was a) someone backing a car into their building; b) their furnace back-firing after the summer layoff; or c) the washing machine in spin cycle, I opened my email inbox to see the following message from Bill Norris:
And it is done.
As part of our ongoing Yankees/Red Sox bet, Bill transformed himself from pinstriper to royal rooter with the help of some temporary tattoos and some artful photography from Olga. The full series can be found here, but for now here is my current favorite:
I am glad Bill was able to ease the pain of having to bear the mark of the beast by spinning a fine narrative to accompany the pictures. After reading his words, let nobody doubt his empathy for the transformative power of suffering. Perhaps after this he is a little closer to understanding that sport, like life, is not about how many championship rings you buy but about how you play the game.
The realization dawns on Weasel that the Sox beat the Yankees last weekend
Regular Weaselettes out there will be aware that I have been enduring a season-long bet with Bill Norris of Notes From A Former New Yorker on the results of the meetings of baseball's Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees. Last weekend while I was out and about undergoing a twisted pennance of Bill's devising following a Red Sox loss the word came through the WEEI Red Sox Radio Network that Boston had triumphed over the Yankees.
Revenge would be mine.
Of course, after being forced to parade around Red Sox nation while wearing a pink Yankees hat I knew I had to come up with something good to inflict on Bill. Country Mouse and I have been throwing suggestions around all week, resulting in this shortlist:
1) Write a 250 word essay on why David Ortiz should be the MVP over Derek Jeter.
2) Pose for photographs in front of his undergraduate class at big orange acting as if he is teaching them about the quality of the prose in Jim Gerard's Yankees Suck! (which would be mailed down to Texas presently. It's a good read).
3) Arange to be hit in the face by a custard pie featuring a picture of Trot Nixon picked out in frosting.
4) Become a franchisee in my new business that I'm hoping David Ortiz will agree to endorse: "Big Papi Schmears Bagel Shops", to be situated in women's clinics and OBGYN departments.
However, as tasty as these ideas are, I was hit with greater inspiration on Wednesday night and for a small amount of folding green I sent off for the very special props I would need to seek satisfaction. The props arrived today.
So Bill, there is no better way to acknowledge that one has lost a bet than by adorning one's body with emblems of the enemy and parading in public. As an honest Red Sox fan I could be trusted to don the pink hat even without Bill's direct supervision and fulfill my sentence. While I am sure Bill is a paragon of moral probity he is a Yankees fan and therefore not be trusted not to seek a loophole. Therefore, I'm not sending clothing but temporary tattoos. There are enough in a package to cover both arms to the point where Bill will resemble a riveter on the Big Dig.
I expect photos of you as a fully-inked construction worker from Providence or Saugus, Mr. Norris. A pillow up your shirt to simulate the accompanying beer gut is optional.
Why I was there- the location of a work function that seemed part 'Land of the Lost', part 'Wall Street', part 'Night at the Roxbury'.
Work....
A peregrine falcon (a touch of home) on the New York skyline.
Casa da Apes y Kaci. I want a ship at the end of my street.
Proof I was in Brooklyn being a tourist.
And why not?
The view from Youthlarge and Listo's apartment. Someone buy it from them: they need a second bedroom more than a skyline.
Happy parents (although you can see he has a cold, poor dear)...
.. and awesome infants! Hi Sam and Otis.
