Well. There I was, noodling around a few hours ago during a hydration break (it’s been in the mid-90s today, and I have three rather large trees to plant), looking for something to write about so I could sit inside, turn on the air conditioner for a bit, and allow the sweat to dry up. … Continue reading Mad, Bad, And Dangerous to Know: “Ghostly Galleons” and “Dark Red Love-Knots”
The costume of women should be suited to her wants and necessities. It should conduce at once to her health, comfort, and usefulness; and, while it should not fail also to conduce to her personal adornment, it should make that end of secondary importance. The author of these words was born Amelia Jenks, on May… Continue reading On Late Bloomers
Let's get this out of the way first: I like and respect Jordan Peterson. I have a fair number of friends who don't like him all that much, and a few friends who find him harsh, grating, offensive--even dangerous--and almost always in the wrong. But any man who argues for individual responsibility and that there's… Continue reading A Podcast Worth 62 Minutes of Your Time: Peter Robinson Chats with Jordan Peterson
Lord. I remember, as a child and adolescent, Cliff Richard being the quintessentially British pop star. Better (and bigger) than the Beatles. He never really made it in the States, where his closest brush with fame came in the mid-1970s with something called "Devil Woman." Not really one of my faves, as I wasn't sure… Continue reading Triangulations (Apologies to Sir Cliff Richard)
Well now Frankie and Johnny were sweethearts They were true as a blue blue sky--The Ballad of Frankie and Johnny, Sammy Cahn and Johnny Green Apparently, Amber Heard and Johnny Depp met during the filming of The Rum Diary, a movie based on the Hunter S. Thompson book of the same name. Depp was, it… Continue reading The Ballad of Amber and Johnny: Make it Stop. Please.
March is a problematic month for me, being one of those two or three in the year in which anniversaries and memories--those both deleriously joyous and desperately sad--seem to congregate and coalesce in an inescapable, and sometimes overwhelming, swarm. My granddaughter's birthday. Our dinner of grace and the death of Mr. Right's first wife. "Fifteen… Continue reading Just a Daughter’s Memories: Nigeria 1959
It works, doesn't it?
I don't know how many of you follow Bari Weiss, but I find her to be pretty insightful. She's an extraordinarily bright and accomplished woman with a fascinating and--as the children like to say--'impactful' life, who's best known today only for her most recent high-profile move in which she resigned from the New York Times… Continue reading A Meditation on Russian Birds Brides and the Men Who Love Want Them
More than five years ago (November 2016, just before the election), I wrote this post on Ricochet. I've not posted it here yet, but today I do. A headline in today's Telegraph: "A Shell Crushed the Family Next Door." Memories. For Ukraine. And the glory of the simple things. I spent several hours this… Continue reading The Simple Things
I learned that little Polish phrase from the late Mr. She, not very long after I met him, on a day when we were swapping stories about our eccentric and (in wholly different ways) exceptional families. It’s one of the few (SFW) bits of Polish I know, and I say it with great determination and… Continue reading Rosyjskie Diabły