Throwing Smoke

Pitching statistics, for a change.  Because now they'd take Warren Spahn out after seven innings, and he'd've just gotten warmed up.

Also, my team's elimination ("magic") number is below 20 and just above 10.  This does not bode well.

This just in:  Limited instant replay in baseball!  Camel in the tent!  Ai-eeeeeee!

Back! Back, I say!

It's--it's politics! It's coming in through the windows! It's coming up through the floor! NOOO-O-O-O-OOOOOOO!!!!

88 Years Ago Today

The 19th Amendment (to the U.S. Constitution) was proclaimed (it had been ratified on the 18th).  

Attaining suffrage was a long and difficult fight, and afterward apparently everyone wanted to relax (well, no, because there were also a host of social changes in the immediate post-war period that would have distracted saints, plus race riots, fads, the baseball scandal, and movies; the other feminist goals got lost in the noise.  But the "everyone just wanted to relax" theme comes across in most of the histories of the times), so the first wave of women's liberation kind of crashed to shore, spent.

So there were flappers mit da short skirts und da battub gin und da ziggurats und da bopped hair!  Which were a small percentage of women, but created the image of the decade such that one cannot see anyone else.  The power of the stereotype.

So fewer and fewer people can remember the time before.  Few people now alive remember the struggle.  

There are still feminist/womanist battles to be fought.  Fight them.

An Observation

The more "Freedom" becomes an advertising slogan, the less of it we have.

The Clock Ticks

Avedon Carol is on fire.

Read this or make another tinfoil hat.

"Money" quote:

A politics that pretends that racism and sexism are no longer pervasive and crippling is a lie. A politics that pretends that there was something unseemly about a large segment of a generation being outraged at persistent insults to the dignity and the flesh of real people both at home and abroad is soulless. A politics that insists on ignoring real sexism and racism while promoting both is not promising of hopeful change. Martin Luther King's impassioned words against not just racism but of war and poverty - and of how these are inextricably intertwined - are as relevant today as they were when he first spoke them. 

ETA a week later: Added emphasis is mine.

Social Calendar

Everyone scheduled their parties for today.  

See you later...

Because Fafblog is Danger to Humorless

What's fired in the bone.  "...bunny shapes upon command," indeed.

You'd Do It for Randolph Scott

Well, maybe not.

But the Shirelles are playing in San Francisco, and (according to AP) Obama picked Biden for Vice, and "Come eat me!  I'm a delicious pizza!" is inspired.

Claire de lune

Joyeux anniversaire, M. Claude Debussy!  Je regrette que je n'ai pas un gâteau pour vous.

Confusin' the Blues

It is a known thing that when old blues performers get called onto a stage, the years just drop away (well, for sufficient values of "drop"--last week, Teddy Watson (?), who uses a cane, set it down partway into his second number and did a few hipgrinds and just generally belied his obvious years).

There'll be another concert today.  I may go watch.

ETA:  There's something about a man singing "Baby, please come on home" while wearing a red suit, red shoes, and white hat.  Blues music is in a curious state these days; the singers have been around for fifty or so years, but the sidemen (and sidewomen) are middle-aged or younger.  And the audiences are getting smaller, seems to me.  But the performance area in front of City Hall  works very well.  Go figure.

ELTA:  Man in red suit is NOT Teddy Watson.

I remember when Nicolas Cage was an actor.

French Lesson

Ce n'est pas une blog.

(I say it's "une" until I'm overruled.)

Gruesome Twosome

Paging Marlene Dietrich:  Your gorilla suit from Blonde Venus has been found.

Educators urge lower drinking age.  Because they finally figured out what everyone else knew in the mid-'80s:  Raising the drinking age nationwide to 21 was a Mistake.

Both articles via Google News.

Odd Thought

On my mind:  Stan Freberg's parodies of pop songs of the '50s.

The Factor of Repetition

To paraphrase the Flying Karamazov Brothers, there's more to marketing music than repetition, but not much.

I should explain.

The radio at home is tuned to a radio station whose tagline is "variety," but when I want to find it on the dial, I just listen for Eric Clapton.  (See also This Music.)

Last month I found the local all-jazz broadcasters.  I had that on for a week.  The term "jazz" covers a broad and deep spectrum of American popular music, and I can honestly say that I never heard the same piece twice.  I did hear a few artists more than once, but on different songs/compositions.

Traditionally, the way American popular music is sold to a music-loving public is that it gets repeat plays on the radio until sheer force of repetition convinces the audience to go buy that track, that single, that album; and as sales climb, the song is broadcast even more until at last it's Number One and everyone is sick of it.

Jazz radio doesn't do that.

Jazz radio is a kind of education project.  If  you listen long enough you get a bit from every jazz era, every style within that era, and sidebars on the musicians.

The downside is that you never hear anything twice.  You get no chance to familiarize yourself with the music.  And if you find you like something, you never hear it again.

There must be some middle ground between All Worn-out Familiar Tunes, All The Time and Sonic Chaos.

Procrastination

I have an essay bubbling up about why the ability to purchase clothes is important to one's self-esteem, but I also have a zine to finish.

So I'm going out.

Talking Baseball

Close game, only one run's worth difference.  No catastrophic pitcher failure (well, two solo homers, but that could have happened to anybody; even Pedro Martinez gets dinged).  Competent fielding, for once.

Thanks, KE.

Red Sauce

To begin:

7 or more cloves of garlic

1 softball-sized onion

chunk of ginger, pared

1 bell pepper, color immaterial

1 Portabella mushroom, size of dessert plate

1/2 - 3/4 pound, your choice of mushroom.  I like shiitakes, criminis, regular, trumpets, abalones, morels, and I have been known to use combinations thereof.

2 large cans whole peeled tomatoes

Basil

Bay leaf

Rosemary

Oregano

Salt & sugar to taste.  Not a lot.

Chop, slice, food-process or otherwise render-into-small-pieces-to-be-sautéed the onion, garlic, ginger (you might want to mince the ginger a bit.  I forgot), and bell pepper.  Rinse and slice the mushrooms.

Heat large stockpot or Dutch oven, using enough olive oil to coat the bottom (medium to almost low heat).  Sauté garlic, onions, ginger, bell pepper until limp.  Add mushrooms and keep stirring until everything's been introduced to the bottom of the pot.

Add the tomatoes.  Break up the tomatoes.  Bring to boil.  Realize you have forgotten the meat or tofu you intended to add to the sauce (if you did), shrug, sing the chorus of "Dead Man's Party," and add the herbs and seasonings.  Lower heat to simmer, cover and go wash dishes or something.

(Occasional stirring of contents is recommended.) 

It should simmer at least an hour; the longer it cooks, the better it tastes, short of scorching the solid ingredients.

Pointing at Something

This essay by La Chola puts forth that:

1. John Edwards cheated on his wife;
2. The "left" is tending to treat it as "Not Our Business--Private Matter;"
3. The roles of women in the US political system are limited;
4. The roles of women of color are even more limited;
5. The only people capable of changing the situation are on the "left," which see #2.

Food for thought.

Nothing Much

Well.  Another Monday, another reassessment.  The days are shortening perceptibly around the edges; the "magic number" of the local baseball team has gone below 30; the Democratic convention, the school year, and Rosh Hashana fast approach.

Also, there's red sauce to make.

I thank God for this day.

Note to Myself

I'm coming at Asimov's Robot series from the wrong end, aren't I?

Polityx

Somewhere I still have a "Support Nixon--He Kept Us Out of Northern Ireland" button.

So…

A "tribute" band is a "cover" band covering one specific group (preferably with a sizable repertoire)?  Because the Barenaked Ladies tribute band is going to be, um, interesting.

What You Were Spared

The informal, unresearched, top-of-the-brainpan history of vocal group harmony, a k a "doo-wop."  Go play "Take the 'A' Train."  It's all there.

Bach's Toccata & Fugue in D Minor.  In color.

In honor of Transfiguration.

(via Making Light Particles)

Dream New York and the Egg Cream

Article in New York Times about the histories of the egg cream.  

I haven't had one in years.  It was hard enough finding a decent bagel.  Bloody sweet rolls.

And I had another of those odd dreams in a New York City that doesn't exist in real space, with an old elevated sidewalk that connected the meatpacking district with the Brooklyn Bridge and peculiar buildings on the Hudson just north of the World Financial Center.  This is in the same universe as the Bronx of the mind.  Somehow I usually know where I am geographically in dreams, even though that specific dreamscape doesn't exist--the warehouses I sometimes see are New York, not Montréal, even though there are similar warehouses in Montréal.  

What my subconscious was trying to tell me by having me have a conversation with Mia Farrow outside a movie theatre is still a complete mystery.

Spiritual Milestone

No matter where I am spiritually, a homily/sermon/lecture will put me right to sleep.

Sorry.

Truism of the Day

Deeeeee-caf!  doesn't have quite the same resonance as Coooooooffffffffff-ee!

Nice day.  Why hang out here?

More Music, More Music, More Music...

Electric Flag.

Thanks, Avedon.