Yes it is still going on...

I have paid $7.62 every month since August in exchange for ComEd's electricity. That is a "Customer Charge" of $7.58 and a "Franchise Cost" of .04 - and I have paid absolutely ZILCH for the actual electricity for the last 7 months.

Furthermore it has become obvious that ComEd doesn't even care if I only pay $7.62 a month for all the electricity I want. Allow a short explanation (and yes, for those of you who have been following this since the summer at the other venue, it is still going on)...

In June of 2005 I used almost 1000 kWh of electricity and paid dearly for it - I think like $100. That July I cut back and used only 750 kWh and paid around $60. Then, suddenly, my bar graph on my bill shows no activity, and I get a bill for $7.62. It came after a "power-outage rebate" and so - thinking we were just paying catch-up I wrote a check and went my merry way.

September was the same. According to the record I used no power. My bill? $7.62. And it happened again in October.

I called the electric company and said "I think your meter is broken."

"Oh thank you sir we'll get someone out there to fix it right away."

November came and went. The bill was $7.62, the record showed no electricity use. December the same.

I called again. "I think your meter is broken."

"We already know that sir. We have a report on it."

"Ok so, you already know."

"Yes we do. You don't have to keep calling."

"Well I was just..."

"We have a record of your report and we're handling the situation."

"But..."

"Is that all sir? We have other clients waiting with emergencies."

Sure. Yeah. Ok by me. I did my duty. January comes and goes. $7.62. Now the February bill comes in... $7.62.

What I don't want is to one day get a bill for $89,000 of back-owed utility fees. So this time I go online, set up an account, and report the meter is broken. The site takes me to a screen that says "A similar order exists at this premise. This order must be completed or voided before another can be issued."

Sure. Yeah. Ok by me. Fine. The second lady was a pure bitch and the website is terse and explains nothing.

I've tried to rectify the situation and three strikes - you're out.

Life's pretty good fer me!

I don't know where Body language: 4 signs to decode it was back when I needed it. But it sure would have made a difference in those old blue days of yore. I had been misreading or not reading all these visual clues my entire life. How I managed to survive on the battlefield of love I'll never know. I missed them all...

Signal 1: Lifted Shoulders
I spent about $12,000 in therapy just on the feeling of indifference I felt most people regarded me with. Low and behold I discover, all these years later, that all those shrugs in my direction didn't mean just... "So?" or the usual "What do you want me to do about it?" - But were instead an overt display that people wanted to have sex with me. Man.

Do you know how many times I could have had sex in my life if only I had known everyone shrugging their shoulders at me was hot for my bod?

I think this has to qualify as one of the biggest blunders of my life. I'm mortified.





Sign 2: Pigeon Toes
Go figure. When we were kids we used to laugh and tease and make fun of the girls who were pigeon-toed. We would mercilessly pour melted cafeteria pudding down their shirts at lunch and spit in their milk. Tie their sleeves together and hang them on a window latch so they'd kick and scream and... I mean... I felt really sorry for these people. Now I find out they all really loved me. Probably desperately. I feel awful.



Sign 3: The Palm Reveal
When talking about open palms the article says "The brain is programmed to perceive vulnerability and openness in this motion."

Yeah I missed this one altogether.





And the last item in the article talks about that lowered forehead thing where the eyes sort of peek out at you from under the eyebrows. Perfect at candle-lit dinners amidst sultry music. Sigh...

Well anyway... here's hoping you young people reading my blog won't make the same mistakes I did. Palms open. Pigeon toes. Scrunched shoulders. Forehead first like a head butt. These are all little things you could be looking for.

Use this information wisely. You have a lifetime of getting sex on the line here, if only you'll listen.

One or two of those signals should be enough to determine if somebody digs you. And, the way I figure it, if you get them all...





It's love!

I ask that because one other time I spoke about stocks and such on a blog the reaction was decidedly "Pleh...", but I can't imagine that folks wouldn't be interested in stocks and mutual funds. Maybe that's just me. It isn't a subject that puts me to sleep. But if it isn't on your list of sexy things, please forget everything from this paragraph down. Just skip down to the Caption-Making post below and allow me to talk to the one person still awake.

About three years ago I recommended 4 stocks to a general readership on a blog and suggested that people pick one of them if they wanted to make some money. I've been a private investor in my own behalf for twenty years and I'm fairly certain I was in on the first generation online brokerage accounts in the early 90s. At least that's what the brain cells I have left are telling me. Anyway here they are, complete with their late-winter 2003 prices:

AIRM $9.34
VPS $3.36
PWX $9.34
CTHR $5.16

I recommended people pick one and buy 100 shares. At these prices $934 plus whatever brokerage fees you had would have gotten you in on these. (For the record, I picked CTHR). These were picked solely on the basis of two things: 1. They had a unique product or service and 2. All their numbers said they were being run responsibly. There were no huge debts or any outstanding red flags in the news briefs.

Last Friday the values of these stocks sat at...

AIRM $24.00
VPS $1.78
PWX $16.48
CTHR $14.03

But I should tell you that late last year CTHR was near $30 when I sold half the shares I originally bought. So for an initial investment of $516 (plus fee) I made $1250 and still have another $700 uncashed. And I don't intend selling those until the stock pumps up again (they just posted record earnings. I'm patient).

As you can see the poor sap who bought VPS thinks I'm the scumbag from hell. Oh well. Can't be all things to all people, and the fact that I had a dog in there is only natural. Compared to the rest - HA! But you can see what I saw by taking a short trip to these companies' web sites. AIRM does "airborne healthcare" (check it out). VPS - not that anyone cares at this point is... well... water. PWX is a really cool little railroad. And CTHR (Charles & Colvard) makes jewelry, the original crystals of which are not from Earth. Bingo - that was my baby.

This is the long way around the barn of saying - only if you're interested - that I have another list of things for you to look at. The obligatory statement made in these cases is "past performance is no guarantee of future success." But I'm going to pick one of these myself after I do a little more digging. But they all look like performers for what they are.

These are mutual funds that manage property. Real estate. Income-producing rentals. Storage Units. That kind of thing. These are mutual funds for REITs (Real Estate Investment Trusts). This is where you should go if you would like to have income from rental property but can't afford the potential risk or basic cost of the second mortgage you would have to get to hold a property on your own (not to mention fixing overflowing toilets and evicting the non-paying trailer trash).

But the principle this time around is contrarian. Everywhere you look we are being told of a "housing bubble" and faltering mortgage rates about to lower the boom on the housing market.

I'm gaming that the scare is overblown. So I'm looking at three REIT Mutual Funds, and what's more these are not the over-capitalized giants that make me wonder what the heck is left to buy with their trillions. These are still relatively small Funds, and because of that they can still maneuver themselves with a bit more agility. No gorilla in the corner that knocks over the table every time it moves.

First is the Old Mutual Heitman REIT Fund. Symbol OBRTX - each share has a net asset value of $13.76. Then there is the Forward Uniplan Real Estate Investment Fund. Symbol FFREX - selling at a net asset value of $17.78. Finally there's the SSgA Tuckerman Active REIT Fund. Symbol SSREX - at $18.18.

Now the thing about Mutual Funds is you get in with a set amount. You don't have to buy exact shares, you start at a dollar amount. For accounts not in an IRA the three funds above require $2500, $2500, and $1000 to get in, respectively. But less to put them into an IRA. In fact you can get into the Tuckerman fund for as little as $250 if it is going in your IRA.

Okay so - pretty bland stuff, I know. Not going to win many bloggy awards, and the fact remains I'm still an untrained amateur in this field. I do need to say that I don't yet own or hold any of these Funds and I get no reimbursement for touting them. This is just a dull little kiss from me to you.

I've done this before. But I'm not sayin'... I'm just sayin...

"Attention all Probes. Return to the Mothership at once. Bring Pizza. Quick!"

Last night I had a flight in from Louisville after visiting customers in Kentucky for three days. Even though I wasn't scheduled for Midway my flight to O'Hare was delayed a bit - as were others - because of a threatening note found in a plane at Midway. I don't know if that was what caused it or if it were just a matter of chance, but the gentleman pictured to the left was also on the plane, seated across and back one. He was the very picture of the consummate gentleman and was as friendly, patient, and pleasant to anyone who spoke to him as can be expected from such a high-powered veteran of Public Relations as he is.

Why would anyone expect he couldn't practice what he preached?

People in Chicago probably recognize Steadman Graham quite easily (notably because of a particular friend of his). Folks outside Chicago may be a bit perplexed. Let's just say he knows some interesting people.

But once again I went into my own way of dealing with proximity to "celebrity." I watched the proceedings and basically left the man alone.

I mean, think about it. It is awfully nice to be recognized by strangers in that you at least know people are paying attention (The young black woman who was our flight attendant certainly recognized him and kept returning - and much to his credit he wanted to speak about her schooling and her plans for the future and other totally appropriate items for an older man to be speaking to a young woman about. Steadman is a very handsome fellow and carries himself like a man of refinement - who could blame her?). But don't you think a person would get tired of people walking up to you, pointing, smiling and saying "Ah-hah-Hah! Hah Hah! Uh-Huh Ah-ha-HAH! You're you, aren't you?" ?

I mean... come one. Relax!

So I go into the same mode I always go into when my travels have me crossing paths with the famous and near-famous: I leave them alone... for God's sake.

I may think Oprah's Book Club nominations are clues about books to STAY AWAY from, but there's no reason to be uncivilized.

Besides, he looked like he was a good guy. Outside of the articles he kept ripping out of the paper he was reading and stuffing away somewhere for future reference, he was totally unirritating.

That's more than I can say for a lot of people I meet in airports...

Put on your Bozo wigs and go give Trish a hard time about being a freckle-faced urchin in the days of her youth.

My apologies for coming into the meeting late. Bomb threats at Chicago Midway held up my flight and I am just now checking in.

Can I get a Shirley Temple?

Because we intend to take our search to Italy, I'm teaching myself Italian. Funny I should do that before teaching myself English but what the hell...

I am putting the CD in now...

Conversational Italian. So the guy runs through a list of names and the book says I'm supposed to listen for similarities in the names. Mikelley is Michele which is Michael. Hi I'm Roberto. But I notice differences too. Like Emanuel is spelled Emanuele and is pronounced just like that - ee-man-you-EL-lay. I think I am right in saying similar to Spanish is that it says like it looks except sometimes you can get a little devil-may-care with the last vowel. The last A in Isabella is barely there. And in Giuseppe the s sounds more like a Z. Then the book says "each vowel is pronounced clearly and crisply."

Well bull. Where did the A is Isabella go then??

I see I'm going to have to reign in my automatic schoolyard reactions to learning stuff. This is hard.

So then we get la citta with a little accent mark above the a in citta and it is pronounced lacheeTAH. The city is a cheetah. When it is just e Italian means and and when it is just an e with an accent mark it is said a millisecond shorter and means is. I have no idea where the "H" sound came after the "c" in citta.

So lacheeTAH e Napoli must mean "the city is Naples". And in Chicagoese it would be "Dat's Naples over by dere." Which means Naples is over there...

(In Chicago we're very curious about the well-being of your stomach. Restaurants, food, and your stomach are very important to us here. We even have a greeting when you walk into our house that you'll find no where else. When I shake your hand and say "Jeet" I am asking you "Did You Eat?" And if you didn't I will break out the chips and salsa and beer. But I digress...)

And Naples comes just in time because now we go right to cities. And I'm learning right off the bat; it isn't Gen-O-va, it is pronounced Gen-o-VA. We get that confused in English because we don't even call it Genova we call it Genoa. And we would look silly if we pronounced it Gen-o-AH.

And then come countries. This is all to get you used to how Italian sounds.

I can figure out Stati Uniti (that's us). But it took me a while to get Inghilterra and Egitto when the lady on the CD was saying it, but I worked it out... look... Ing-ill-terra. Ingill. Terra. Terra is Land. Ingill is Engel. Ingul. As in EEng. England! And Egitto came clear the more you say it. Eh-GEE-toe. If you try EE-gee-toe you're close, and Englishized Egitto gives you a clue. That's how we would do it. And we'd be close to how we say Egypt... Eh-GEE-toe, dummy. Land of the Fair-ohs.

So I figure if you skip a vowel now and then, shrug your shoulders and imagine you're Don Vito Corleone you're on your way.

Next lesson is Cognates. I'm pretty sure that was what they called the first Catholic Bible. I can hardly wait...

Never blog drunk. Secondary to that, never blog after being drunk. Case in point...

Fellow Roundtabler (or Roundtablee, that is she is a Roundtablette...) Sereena X (as in Malcolm) can often be found wrapped in wonderment - or rather rapt - at some of the searches that lead readers to her door, and even her blog.

And my daughter (blogly-speaking) Sadie, and her readers, have been known to take that phenomenon to another level altogether. As in, you are now at Level Altogether which is somewhere above the women's hosiery.

So I felt behooved, somewhat after I felt hung-over from last night's revelry (which is after I felt so young again), to see what was happening in that department in my store. And the first thing I noticed is the effect of the little flags you see up above every post which, when clicked, take you to a parallel universe. Go ahead, try it once.

I have a lot of European traffic because the translated pages are physically there though they aren't there really. At least I don't put them there. They're Googled. Forever.

And so though I get the usual...

Recipe for Chicken Vincenzo
Big Woman
Bistro
chianti's restaurant in beverly, ma
roundtable
sum of a man's life

...(Big woman??) from my calm and stately American readers, it's like Girls Gone Wild - or more accurately Guys Looking For Girls Gone Wild from my Europeans.

There is the serious search for

ligonberry (in French), which is understandable enough for a sometimes (or even ersatz) restaurant/wine/food blog.

And it is mildly amusing to see that someone in Madrid was looking for

askmen.com en espanol

But to see searches for

conseguir mujer
come soddisfare una donna

(which basically are quests for finding, and then satisfying a person of the female variation in Spanish and Italian, of all things) and have them both sent to the forever tongue-in-cheek rendition of How To Get A Woman, makes it no small wonder most of the rest of the world thinks Americans are a bit weird.

Here we have two very serious and forlorn gentlemen researching a matter of great import in their lives only to be led to an advice column that suggests they stop being so hung-up on appearances, but to go ahead and fart anyway, and take their girlfriends (if they ever find one) to a Three Stooges marathon.

Oh Great.

I've come to understand that this blog translation thing is a lot like quantum physics. You can't see the particle until you shine a light on the particle. Yet it is so small that to shine a light on it changes its natural behavior. So to see the particle you have to change the particle, and then you're not really viewing the particle anymore, but your effect on the particle. Sort of like if you don't like the way a certain cartoon characterizes you, the best way to counter it is to act like the cartoon characterizes you. Then, since two objects can't occupy the same space, it all just disappears.

And that's what I call Quantum Physics in Europe. But I'll be damned if I know why...

Girl: You know, sometimes I just feel like breaking down and crying.
Guy: Wanna get some pizza?
Girl: Seriously, life can be so hard sometimes, I really can't take it anymore.
Guy: Have you considered suicide?
Girl: Fuck you!
Guy: Well seriously, you need to stop complaining about life or just kill yourself and get it over with.
Girl: Fuck you. I'm getting off at the next stop and going back home.
Guy: Wanna get some pizza?

Overheard on the Q Train...

I finally took the plunge. I have no idea how it comes out in the end but having been in my share of potential internet dust-ups I'm ready for the worst.

I debated doing it for several years. You know... who actually cares? Probably no one. And wouldn't it be better if I cured cancer instead. And are you sure it's true? Or were you just so really stoned-out in the 70s that anything could have happened? I mean... come on!

Yeah I've run it through my head several times. I'm also aware it can be changed just as easily as I did it by anyone, and I could be opening myself up to a lot of crap.

But the fact of the matter is that, to my understanding and through my limited looking into the subject, what I have laid claim to at Wikipedia is true.

All I know is that, here in Chicago, I never heard the phrase "Hillside Strangler" used the way it is used here until I used it. I borrowed the term in the late 70s and early 80s from the infamous murder spree as a part of conversation with people to describe the commute I had to make to and from Columbia College years before.

I took the expression given to the murders and applied it in conversation to the stupid traffic pattern it now describes in Chicago totally out of my own head. My case is that it simply crept into usage from there. Plain and simple.

Catch phrases have to start somewhere. Somebody had to come up with a phrase before the rest of us can coin it. I have no way of proving it other than by all this kind of circumstantial evidence and it is always possible there was more than one origin, I suppose.

What I didn't do is attach my name to the credit for it. I couldn't say "RW so-and-so first used the term...". No. I originally did in the first draft, but there was just something too egoistic and silly about writing my name as if I were talking about somebody else. I just couldn't leave it up there. I tried. It looked stupid. So I'll let it go as it is. That's good enough. After all nothing should come from it, it is just a matter of subjective historical reality.

Even if - somewhere down the road - it is categorically proven to have come from another source (which is totally possible) I can at least say "I had that thought too!" And that'll be good enough.

Well... this has to qualify for one of the more lame blog posts of all time. But I just had to do it. Now I can go cure cancer...

In this week's edition of the Blogger's Roundtable innocent-enough Lauren Poulin asks the rhetorical question why is it more OK for girls to do girls than for guys to do guys? Or words to that effect.

I could probably find better words but I am trying to recover from the not-ready-for-your-screen-at-work pictures of Danni Minogue.

Um....

What was I saying?

It should be obvious by now I have absolutely no talent for photography. I've been feeling bad about what I've been putting you through. So to sort of make up for it here's a great photograph I found online a year or so ago... The picture was taken and republished here by permission of CJ "Trip" Newton,
who can take a decent photograph.

This has been one of my favorite shots of Chicago for a dozen reasons, not the least of which is the color. It's amazing. I've told Mr Newton he has a work of art here, but he seems not to feel the same way. If this was a print, I'd buy it.

Enjoy.

We've decided to chase him down into his cover. To run him to ground. And when we find him..... perhaps I'll have him teach me to do the digital camera / transfer online thing so that it looks halfway decent...

Poor dear reader, subjected once again to my stilted photographic styles. Sorry.

Anyway the plan is hereby hatched. Announced on Valentine's Day 2006 to the world (or at least the six people still reading) - in two years my wife and I will be celebrating our 30th Anniversary, and we've decided to go to Italy and track down this nefarious chef once and for all. To that end, and as you can see, I will now commence my lessons in Italian. Wish me luck?

For our 25th Anniversary we returned to a Club Med in Mexico we had years ago taken the kids to - but this time alone. Outside of the activities we also got to watch the Army enter Baghdad on the TV before turning in.

Once, we took the girls to Jamaica. Had a wonderful time. Did all you would expect and more - food was fantastic. That was 1991 and at night we got to watch Desert Storm!

So we're going to be preparing and planning for a trip to Italy and I am going to start studying Italian and... um....

uh oh...

It just isn't going to happen.

I'm suspicious of people and governments who have big plans to change the world. I wonder if maybe some folks should take care of their own business before they go off trying to solve the problems of the world. My God - I really worry about people like that. I'm also tired of people who know something isn't exactly the truth but pound at it anyway because they can make cheap points from it. People like that need help.

Most sane people in the world just want to get on with their lives. They want to provide for their kids and get along and get themselves in a good spot to live in. They're not interested in marching under the banners of religious pride or messing around with somebody else's country. They just want to get a job and have stuff to eat and once in a while have a little fun.

I think feeding neglected people is right. Helping battered women find shelter for themselves and their kids. Doing work the government can't or won't do - and we're probably better off if they stay out of anyhow. That's politics enough for me. And that's as far as I'm taking it.

Except to say...

You may have noticed this logo has crept into the sidebar. It and its link will take you to something called the CCLF. The CCLF is the Chicago Community Loan Fund.

This is a fund created by business people of conscience that in turn provides low-interest loans to people and organizations in challenged neighborhoods who wouldn't normally qualify for a loan from a downtown bank.

It isn't a hand-out, it's a loan. We expect to be paid back, responsibly, by people and organizations that borrow from the Fund. We make a nominal profit, and usually turn it back into the fund anyway.

If you are looking for an investment for part of your money that will have other kinds of gains besides mere APR's, follow the link in the sidebar and contact these people. Or if you're not from Chicago check for a Community Loan Fund in your city or area. I'm tired of talking politics. And I'm tired of people who talk politics.

Put your money where your mouth is.

This is the last of a short-lived series. Now back to our usual fol-dee-rol...

Here's a neat little place my wife and I visited Saturday afternoon called VineTastings out in Roselle, IL.

Tucked amongst a line of new shops in a renovated part of town in that suburb this place is a wine lover's haven. And if the spirit moves you there are some gourmet and candy shops just a short walk down the strip from there.

Lynne and I each took a flight (she chose the whites, I did the reds) and we sat down in the window trying to do our best imitation of our logo at the top of the sidebar. Of course I had my usual Zinfandel in the bunch but I also had the chance to re-try a wine I was sure was poorly served at an even poorer restaurant. There had been enough there to make me wonder about it (I was certain the glass I was given came from a bottle that had been opened far too long to be serviceable) and I thought if I ever had the chance to try it again I'd give it one more go.

I saw it on the list at VineTastings and added it to fulfill my notion. It turned out it fulfilled something better. Seemed right - they take care over their wines here. And my tasting-glass of Santa Ema Reserve Merlot (2003) was the first to empty.

I'm going to give this wine from a wonderful Chilean vineyard its own spot in a future post because I want to talk a bit about VineTastings in this one.

This is a California-style wine bar plunked (happily) in the middle of Midwest suburbia. They offer the usual club services (yes, we joined); the tasting rituals found in any other wine bar from Long Island to Santa Rosa, the ability to act as a consultant for your menus and all. But I found an interesting little list of other things they can do for you above and beyond what you'd normally expect in this part of the country. On top of the expected, VineTastings will do everything from being available to sign for wine you are having shipped to you from elsewhere when you are not home to storing your wine for you in a 100 year-old cellar.

What a great idea!

VineTastings is located at

123 East Main Street in Roselle, IL.
Phone 630-529-1825.
They are closed Monday and Tuesday. Open Wednesday and Thursday from 3 to 9. 1 to 10 on Friday and Saturday. And Sunday from 1 to 7.

P.S. - I walked out of there with 3 bottles of the Santa Ema Reserve Merlot. See? My instincts are still good - all I needed was somebody who cared about it as much as I did. These folks do.

Labels: drinking, restaurant reviews

One of the more gratifying things that I've found since re-entering the world of the foodie is that the same old universal lessons I'd learned about wine pairings still hold true, but a new willingness to experiment and break some rules has the old wine snobs on the run.

The over-analytical and desperately esoteric art of getting a definition on a thousand different flavors in the one/tenth of an ounce you just spat out is finally being seen for what it is; fun when done in the right frame of mind, but pure foppery in the hands of pinch-nosed purists.

And while wine can still inspire the taste and the nose the fact of the case is that wine is meant to go with food and outside of some user-friendly guidelines that are only meant to help you along - the idea that you should drink what you like is (finally) gaining on the rest of the world.

In the realm of pairing wine with food, the best rule I ever heard actually ends up being practically all you really ever need to make an intelligent choice when you're out to dinner for that special occasion or have the wine-with-dinner habit at home...

Use a wine that comes from the same region as the food.

You can make that as complicated as you want, or simplify to the point of saying "Italian with Pasta-Marinara, French with sauce-oriented French cuisine, American Zinfandel with American beef, or even stretch the imagination and get a good Aussie with your lamb.

Some use the origin of the recipe to determine their choice of wine. If the plate's components are American grown and raised but the idea for it came from Germany, choice made! And so on.

The books I've put at the top of this article will give you a good grounding. Hugh Johnson (pictured here) is probably the quintessential "explainer" of wine in accessible language meant to include the newcomer rather than impress him or her right out of the room. There has probably never been a better ambassador for wine to the non-wine drinking world.

The book posted in the middle - Brian St. Pierre's "The Perfect Match" is one I've just finished. It is an elegant but light tour of the world's wine regions that talks about how the wines of certain countries are used with the local food and what that could mean for guiding your choices. Some have said it may be a touch advanced but, really, I honestly don't think so. Once you get the line of thought its a natural.

Besides, if you start out with "Wine For Dummies" (which is where I began) you'll already know most of what you need before you have the other two experts round out your education.

In posts to come I'll make some pairings lists and guides, and I'm sure at some point I'll ruffle the feathers of a red/white purist. But hopefully it is something you can use... or argue with.

Thing 4 - Class and Grace

This is admittedly a difficult subject for people under 30, I believe, because it will ask them (or, more accurately require them) to exhibit certain traits that are not always viewed with honor or worthiness in the age of the in-your-face / let-no-insult-pass-unchallenged paradigm of the early 21st century...

In fact I think exhibiting what was once known as "class" and "grace" are now so far reduced that they may even be actually considered weaknesses. You are supposed to wiggle your ass and dangle your tongue at your nearest opponent. It is now expected that every knife sent your way deserves a gun in return.

Perspective and consideration be damned.

And the usual argument goes something like "why should I have consideration for him? He doesn't have any for me!"

The answer to that, of course, was changed at about the same time morality became relative (the consequences of which mean that there was nothing really wrong with Josef Stalin or Pol Pot - at least from their perspective). The "logic" that viewed someone behaving badly towards us and said "if they can behave poorly to me I can behave poorly toward them" may ignore the fact that the same behavior doesn't become OK just because we're doing it, but it sure felt good to do the eye-for-an-eye thing and - in these times - is considered a required "face-saving".

In another age being seen to be goaded into poor behavior by someone else who was behaving poorly was viewed as weakness. Today the weakness would be to not respond in kind, to not defend yourself, or to not match the ugliness with some of your own. And, because of this new modality, the first victims to fall by the wayside were "class" and "grace."

"Class" is defined as something being the best of its kind, giving an almost tactile display of elegance, or having a "refined grace or dignified propriety marked by lucidity, wit, and elegance" Source.

"Grace" - used as an mate in this case - is "the quality or state of being considerate or thoughtful", a way of going that displays a "sense of propriety".

In short, the best traits of human nature outside of charity and the reverse of "snobbery" in that for all the stated charm and "elegance" it is qualified by the dual concepts of being considerate and thoughtful.

So when the waitress brings out a drink the hostess has already delivered and stands flustered, rather than commenting about the disorganized service you recognize two people are trying to serve you to your enjoyment and are gratefully amused. When someone behind the counter is obviously new you don't run them around demanding they respond to the snap of your finger, but instead stand willing to be patient enough for them to learn something about their duties.

And when someone obviously in their cups belches a taunting insult your way loud enough for all to hear you maintain your wizened smile, recognize they are out of control, and give them a non-aggressive "thank you old boy" and go your merry way.

The conflict between the way the 21st century works and the higher ideals of "class" and "grace" is defined by how people would react even to the idea behind this article. If the demonstrated examples of "how to react" given above are seen as unworkable or illogical or even cowardly - you can rest assured you haven't a clue what class or grace really are.

At our table, we stay amused at the heat generated by the terminally insecure.

I know who I am, and I'm not really defined by how poor someone else is behaving. And I would rather think that when that "someone" is more at their best, the uncomfortable tone in their manner isn't visible. I'm prepared to wait for the better side of their nature to arrive.

Because - after all - if it went beyond churlish words, I'd simply have to kill them.

For the first three parts of the series, check out our Table of Contents

Labels: 27 Things

Don has given us a challenge and it has done the impossible - it has shut. me. up...

Kind of not fair - I didn't expect to have to think during these Roundtable sessions but... oh ok.

Let me work on it. In the meantime - what would you say, and to whom, given Don's conditions?

Life is full of surprises. A person can be going along quite nicely and all of a sudden everything comes to a screeching halt. What worked in last year's news won't fly in the modern world. Can't please everyone, I suppose.

One of my greatest shortcomings entails activities right here. No matter what I do - somebody is going to be offended by something. I suppose I could chalk it up to the Law of Unintended Consequences. But even if I do, a gentleman must always take the heat graciously...

And so as the rule is stated:

"The Law of Unintended Consequences holds that almost all human actions have at least one unintended consequence. In other words, each cause has more than one effect including unforeseen effects. The idea dates to the Scottish Enlightenment, which influenced people such as Thomas Jefferson. In the twentieth century, sociologist Robert K. Merton once again popularized it, sometimes referred to as the Law of Unforeseen Consequences."

It also has reasons for why it occurs.

1. Ignorance (It is impossible to anticipate everything.)
2. Error (Incomplete analysis of the problem, or following habits that worked in the past but may not apply to the current situation.)
3. Immediate interest may override long-term interests.
4. Basic values may require or prohibit certain actions, even if the long-term result might be unfavorable. (These long-term consequences may eventually cause changes in those same basic values.)
5. Self-defeating prophesy (Fear of some consequence drives people to find solutions before the problem occurs, thus the non-occurrence of the problem is unanticipated.)

And in my case, as usual, I can plead the 1st - ignorance on my part.

But also the 2nd - as I must be aware of the changing paradigms. My ignorance and my errors will probably offend a lot of people in times to come.

Let me apologize ahead of time to anyone about to be cranked at any future date?

I thank you.

RW is in Florida until tomorrow, but he wanted to assure the readers that he hasn't fallen off the face of the Earth. In fact he's in Florida on business - just to show you what a trooper he is. In order to keep the pings going he left instructions to reprint an article he originally wrote for the Mothership blog that spawned Agent Bedhead when he was one of the subs for the illustrious Sadie during her honeymoon.

When I passed the age of 50 I felt I had finally reached that part of my life where, comfortable in my own skin and with nothing left to prove, I no longer had to flail around in some competitive stupor as if I were young and full of beans again. I could watch the younger bucks prance about the field and smash their silly heads together over the scent of young buckettes in heat and sip a good red Zin on a sunny day as I watched the games.

I came to believe that the fact that I was seeing the sexual virtues of women nearer my own age as perfectly desirable was a sign that I had obtained a level of sane maturity and, rather than becoming the kind of silly old man who leers at young women and ends up looking so much the fool for it, I had hit my stride as nature intended and all was right with the world. I could enjoy the languid forays with women who needed no more exploration but were already perfectly mapped. I was not interested in girls, I proudly intoned, I was interested in women...

A cynic could say that this was just a useful rationalization I had constructed for myself. They could say that - by convincing myself of this toffee-nosed self image - I was merely saving myself from ever getting into the frightening position of having to come face to face with the raw defeat I would surely be dealt if forced to confront the crude wiles and unrefined lusts of a younger woman. They could say that I held the view of my rarefied eldership as a wall of protection around all the recently accumulated inadequacies a few extra inches of paunch and a slower metabolism brought on.

If I am to be completely honest I have to admit that the critique of that cynic isn't really all that far from the truth. If I were to consider the culture shock of having the imaginary *date* with someone half my age I would get a little nervous.

Fantasy begins... First of all even though I have been married for 27 years there is an implicit permission to do this. So there I am in the eye of the camera - with the edges fogged up so we know it isn't really happening - and the sweet, tight young thing beside me at the bar pulls me out onto the floor and into the dancing throng. She grinds her hips into me. Circling me. Then, turning around, she pushes her ass up against me and starts pumping. That's when I realize there's lots of couples doing this. A few of the other couples aren't just pretending. Some of the couples are guys... Of course I snap out of this quickly because - we all know - this doesn't ever really happen anywhere.

And the fact of the matter is that at that point I would probably be manifesting my generational confusion by thinking "this is the kind of stuff you pay someone to do to you, ain't it???"

So I back off the reverie. Ho ho what a lark. Too ridiculous - and besides, there's nothing worse than a stupid old dried up lecherous mope trying to muscle into a scene he has no business in in the first place.

Enough absurd fantasy.

Content with my lot I go off to get my little blue MINI washed and waxed, tell my broker on my cell phone to send me the research on that company in New York that is building a network by buying up smaller communications companies, pick up my black three piece suit from the dry cleaner, and stop for a cup of coffee at the bookstore to look over brochures and plan my trip to the British Virgin Islands.

And as I glance over to the next table I catch a sweet, tight young thing half my age who has been following me since the carwash furtively smiling at me and not looking away when I lock onto her gaze.

And there you are.

Now... is this some gold-digging coquette or did I forget to shave one side of my face? Do I have it as in yo lo tengo senorita or is it just a piece of broccoli stuck in my teeth? Is something still there or is she just a vacuous grinning buffoon?

I don't know man. You think you finally get yourself to a place where the pressure is off and you can embrace the slowness... and then this.

Women are jerks.

And so it begins.

I mean... and so the ending begins. Why have I done this to you? A never-ending progression of Yogi and Scripps and women doing French generals who can't hold him, hold him... Why?

Because Sadie and the now defunct Brian taunted me. That's why.

Because by now we've been through things. I had a feeling. So did you. So did Yogi...

The Torrents of Spring finish a mere 17 pages after our last stop and in that time Scripps drops the older waitress and fawns over the younger one who knows literature. But the bigger story is that after years of sexual impotence a naked Indian woman walks into the beanery and Yogi Johnson (who suddenly becomes the main character of the story) is renewed.

She's a special Indian woman, his two Indian friends tell him (unashamed to call themselves "Indians" - can you tell this book was written three years after the picture of EH above when he was not old and gray and about to blow his brains out?) that she has refused to wear clothes forever and goes around like this no matter what. Religiously.

And when Yogi sees this he can't keep his pants on. And there you go, happily ever after into the winter woods or at least somewhere near Petosky - The End. Except somebody got the bird. It was a divorce settlement. Perhaps. It is vague.

In fact the whole thing is vague. What the hell was Ernie thinking? The dust jacket which doubles as the outside of the paperback copy (you can't fool this book, its been through things) calls it "a hilarious parody of the Chicago School of Literature." In short, Hemingway - probably drunk - makes minced meat out of them. Why is this important? It isn't. Who says it has to be? Up yours.

This is nothing like To Have And Have Not which floats in and out of viewpoint and ends in the aftermath of a violent boat ride (Yes, that's right Sadie and Brian, I read that too now - thanks to your taunting) seen through the filter of abuse and infidelity and making ends meet in pre-Castro Cuba. In that the characters are real and living and in Torrents the play against presumption on the part of the pompous is devastating. And hilarious.

The only other time I remember laughing out loud at another book was while reading Joyce Cary's The Horse's Mouth (for different reasons and more of which at a later time, thank you). But Torrents had me in stitches from time to time.

I almost wish EH wouldn't have gone all serious on us as time went on. I liked him when he was a clown. There were those feelings again...

Our first furtive attempt at food porn. Somebody walked in on me in the middle of taking the picture and said "My God... it's only salad." But then they tasted it... Heh heh.

By the nature of the ingredients this particular salad is bitter, and you can moderate it with fruit slices or more of the dressing than the ratio calls for. For myself, as I am prone to lean toward strong flavors, the ratio in this recipe is perfect for me, and any moderation comes up with the bread and the wine.

Here's the recipe for this waker-upper...


Walnut Escarole
For Four

-The Dressing-
2 Tablespoons Chicken Broth
3 Tablespoons White Wine Vinegar w/ Tarragon Sprig
3 Teaspoons Walnut Oil
1 1/2 Teaspoons Grey Poupon

-The Salad-
3 Teaspoons Shallots (preferred) or Red Onions.
2 Tablespoons chopped Walnuts
2 Cups of Radicchio
6 Cups of Escarole

(Bright Idea Modification: Add drained mandarin orange slices)

1. Mix dressing ingredients in a bowl. Whip until mustard is liquid.
2. Toss onions, radicchio and escarole.
3. Chop walnuts and dry in toaster oven (a few minutes at 350) - don't burn!
4. Combine and mix dressing and fixings.
5. Plate out, shake over with chopped walnuts.

Add Ground Black Pepper as needed and serve.

We used a nice Cabernet-Shiraz blend and some fresh bread.

Okay so a young person turned me onto this stuff and, as usual, the major services like Google and Yahoo are so damned generic you really can't get the right thing down but this is as close as I can get...

My hair parts on my left (your right), the suit would be pin-stiped but three-piece is my norm, but the tie would be gold or red, and ditch the sideburns. I have a taper cut in the back and this face needs a bit more wear and use than this cartoon.

Outside of that it'll do. I think I just need a real picture so I can frighten the children.

Working on it. But what would you expect from Yahoo? Freakin' Klimt??

Stephen V. Funk tries to hold back as much as he can on his true feelings about Mozart, who he blames for all the ills in the world and backs it up with the pertinent ravings of the like-minded in today's Roundtable...

...a place where no one is safe or untouchable. And, actually, its kind of fun to kick and beat and smash a guy who has been dead for more than 200 years.

Mozart was a jerk.