I cogitated upon this video all day before finally deciding to post it. I'm hiding it behind the "more" tag because it's replete with highly offensive words. So much so that it's almost not offensive: nothing is said with anger, or malice; it's as if the man is one of those poor unfortunates who can't speak without using "um" or "like" every other word—only those aren't his filler words of choice.The reason I decided to bear with the profanity is that this comedy routine is perhaps the neatest expression I've yet seen of Purple Ketchup Syndrome. When Heinz came out with purple ketchup, I knew the mental disconnect between what we eat and where it comes from was complete.
(If you watch the video, do it here rather than clicking through to the YouTube site; the comments there are worse than the video.)
Here's a contrast for you.
Most folks know by now the story I wrote about in It's Not about Race, of the Harvard professor who got into an altercation with the Cambridge police while breaking into his own home, and ended up with an invitation first to a jail cell and second to the White House. But here's a more encouraging tale from NPR, about an encounter between the New Jersy police and someone who might have expected more recognition and respect than a university professor.Cops: You're Bob Dylan? Never Heard Of You
The link takes you to a transcription, but there you'll also have the opportunity to listen to the 2 1/2 minute show, which I recommend, if only for the way the journalist skillfully wove in bits of Bob Dylan's songs.
What chance this kindness and cooperation will get Dylan and the officers a beer at the White House?
Finally, in the end, the three of them all went back to Dylan's hotel where the staff IDed this man, who is arguably one of the most well-known songwriters of all time. The officers thanked Dylan for cooperating and later they said he seemed as kind as could be.
I made cheese today, my first effort since succumbing to the lure of Ricki Carroll and her New England Cheesemaking Supply Company. It was not, perhaps, an auspicious beginning, since the never-fail, easy-enough-for-a-seven-year-old mozzarella recipe...failed. Maybe I need a grandchild or two to help.
On the other hand, what I did manage to produce is a great, lower-fat substitute for cream cheese, and if I knew what it was I did wrong, I could replicate it. My biggest mistake was clearly to ignore Ricki's instructions to keep a cheese journal, logging everything from ingredients to procedures to the ambient temperature and humidity. Cheesemaking is an art, and at some point you're bound to create something you'd like to be able to make again; keeping a log doesn't guarantee that you'll be able to, but it greatly increases the odds.For now, I'l enjoy my "cream cheese," and try again with the mozzarella another day.
I don't expect most of my Loyal Readers to wade through the entirety of Paul Gottfried's Voices Against Progress: What I Learned from Genovese, Lasch, and Bradford at the Front Porch Republic, but I include the link for those of us who were students at the University of Rochester during those times. I find it fascinating to glimpse the political maneuverings that were going on over the heads of mere students. I knew neither Eugene Genovese nor Christopher Lasch; I stayed as much as possible in the science and engineering part of the school, and never set foot in that "hotbed of the New Left, the University of Rochester history department." But everyone had heard of Genovese, whom we usually referred to as Our Resident Commie, and his wife, Elizabeth Fox-Genovese, the Resident Feminist.Of even more interest is how the thoughts and ideals of these people changed over time. I don't regret having avoided the U of R history department in the 1970's, but find myself wishing I had known these folks as friends.
Color to use for background of images to appear transparent in a post: fdf2d2 = r/g/b 253/242/210
The future may belong to the Indians, or perhaps the Africans—or anyone who grows up in a multilingual environment. Adding to the evidence of the benefits to the brain of speaking multiple languages is the research of Lera Boroditsky at Stanford University. (Newsweek article by Sharon Begley.)
When the world's tallest vehicular bridge,* the Viaduc de Millau, opened,
German newspapers described how it "floated above the clouds" with "elegance and lightness" and "breathtaking" beauty. In France, papers praised the "immense" "concrete giant." Was it mere coincidence that the Germans saw beauty where the French saw heft and power?