Behold My Allusions, Ye Literate, And Dispair

Tucked into a story entitled Bill Gates says he will never downsize from his mega-mansion with 24 bathrooms — despite being a single empty-nester, we get this declaration:

Xanadu 2.0 — which he named as an ode to the 1941 film “Citizen Kane” — is the epitome of billionaire luxury, featuring six kitchens, 24 bathrooms, an indoor trampoline room, a private library and a swimming pool equipped with an underwater music system.

An ode, gentle reader. An ode. Xanadu is from Citizen Kane. Ye gods.

I’ve done an Internet search to see if Gates himself called it Xanadu 2.0 or if others did, but it’s unclear. Maybe it’s deep in the book The Road Ahead which I have not read, I don’t think, and I don’t think I have a copy of in the Nogglestead library which is odd. It was like Wayne characterized Frampton Comes Alive–it was so ubiquitous in the 1990s and in used book stores and sales for a decade thereafter that it seemed like everyone had a copy that they did not read.

I found one active link that to a story that says the house was called Xanadu in a subheadline (which seems to be the source of the assertion in the Wikipedia entry on Gates’s house. I guess nobody thought of calling it La Cuesta Encantada 2.0. But that would have required not only reading more than a Wikipedia entry but also maybe knowing what Citizen Kane was about. So cinematic history or history of the profession of journalism. Either would have worked.

I’m just here to slag on journalists, whom I suspect do not read almost 100 books, including classics, every year. Because they’re busy tracking down stories by reading the Internet instead.

Oh, and if you’re looking for my comment on Gates owning a very large house (well, several) with no intention of downsizing: So what? I don’t think I would, either, especially since it has a sweet library.

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Two Words: Diverging Diamond

Family survives wrong-way crash on James River Freeway:

A series of wrong-way crashes on the James River Freeway this month, including one that sent a mother and her two children spinning across the highway, raises concerns about driver safety.

Weird how all these crashes are occurring in the area where they’ve added a bunch of diverging diamond interchanges and where they’ve been tampering with traffic patterns for years and not on the parts of US 60 with lights or more traditional on ramps and off ramps.

Probably will be a couple of years (or decades) before Experts and Professionals make a connection. Until then, I guess it’s up to us conspiracy theorists.

Oh, I know: Many of these drivers are intoxicated, and maybe some of them are not from around here, you know. But I would expect that an impaired driver might have a better chance of navigating a regular interchange than something with a lot of atypical loops and whorls.

The exciting new designs, each one different!, might look good in the sketchbooks, artists’ depictions, and the awards ceremonies and magazines, but they’re a lot less fun when you’re trying to drive them at night or in the rain even when unimpaired.

UPDATE: Props to Facebook who is on it in providing me with related content after I posted this morning:

Full disclosure: I have been a skeptic of this particular traffic pattern for a long time (I posted about them and roundabouts in a post in 2011 responding to Steven Den Beste, pbuh). And this is before I almost got creamed at a one such interchange in Joplin where I was driving the family to an athletic event some, jeez Louise, five or six years ago now. No doubt I would have been coming down the ramp to Range Line Road after having driven directly into the sunset and small city traffic. I didn’t realize the underpass was a double diamond–most of our interchanges in Springfield at the time went over the highway (although we have a couple under the highway now), so I yielded and as nothing was coming from my left, I made my right. Ha, ha! Joke was on me! The lanes immediately to the left were the southbound traffic which would have not been coming my way–southbound traffic was stopped at the light to my right across the lanes because the northbound traffic had a green light–and it was coming at 40 miles an hour on the lanes across the roadway, obscured by the pillars and jersey barriers in the middle of the road. I would say I got tootled at, but that’s not the sound of a 40 mile an hour vehicle surprised you would be so impudent as to pull out before it.

I did not get creamed, but I am very sympathetic to drivers who don’t recognize the interchange type and do something foolish. Even impaired ones.

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A Quiz

In the overnight open thread at Ace of Spades HQ last night, TRex posted this quiz:

How many have my children heard me use? Probably 30 or 32:

  • Shucks
  • Rats
  • Gosh
  • Sheesh
  • Flippin
  • Ticked
  • Heck
  • Jeepers
  • Snot
  • Wing nut
  • Criminey
  • Cripes
  • Crepes
  • Good grief
  • Cotton pickin
  • Malarky
  • What the hey
  • Dagnabbit
  • Confound it
  • Great googly moogly
  • Great Caesar’s ghost
  • Geez Louise
  • Judas Priest
  • Kiss my grits
  • Heavens to Betsy
  • What the devil
  • Jumpin’ Jehosophat
  • Gee wilikers
  • Horse hockey
  • For Heaven’s sake
  • For Pete’s sake
  • For cryin’ out loud

“Great Caesar’s ghost!” because I watched the old Superman television show back in the day.
“Geez Louise” because I’m from Wisconsin, and it sounds better in the original.
And I used “Dagnabit” so much that my youngest son used it all the time when he was five or six years old.

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Overselling It

Chocolate recall upgraded to highest risk level: Consumption ‘could cause death’

Oh, noes! Poisonous chocolate beans? How could this happen?

Federal officials have upgraded a chocolate recall to the highest risk level over fears consuming the product could “cause serious adverse health consequences or death.”

Three products from Cal Yee Farm – Dark Chocolate Almonds, Dark Chocolate Apricots and Dark Chocolate Walnuts – have been given a Class 1 classification for containing undeclared milk, according to the FDA.

In other words, take them back if you have a milk allergy.

They are not likely to catch fire in your esophagus or anything.

UPDATE: Sarah Hoyt posted about this at Instapundit this morning, but I’d scheduled this post yesterday afternoon, so I didn’t forget a hat tip. Our snark is pretty similar, though.

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Tales of the Cups

Lileks today talks about his coffee cup of the week and asks his commentors:

My favorite coffee cups have a meaning that might seem odd to someone else; my least-used has the most emotional connection; my most frequently used means nothing at all.

So share your mug stories! Worst, best, faves, etc.

C’mon, man. This is a blog. I’ve gone on about my coffee cup accumulation multiple times:

Out of My Cups (2012), wherein I talk about maybe divesting a couple of the plastic travel mugs I owned (spoiler alert: I got rid of two of the four).

I Am The Coffee Party I Was Waiting For about how many coffee cups I had back then and why I should not get rid of them (spoiler alert: I did not).

A couple of notes since the writing of the last:

  • Every year, I do the library’s Winter Reading Challenge which results in a mug; I’m about halfway through this year’s (as a reminder, although the rules say you only have to read 5 books from the 15 categories, I try to get all 15 before turning the form in). I have quite a collection of mugs from years past:

    I actually use some of them for tea, miso soup, or anything I brew downstairs, so they see some use.
     

  • In 2013, the boys would have been seven and five. I mentioned that I might get rid of some Monopoly themed cups, but I did not. And soon thereafter, my youngest, who had been exposed to the game, was delighted when he discovered them. They became his favorite cups for apple cider and hot chocolate (briefly).
     
  • I’ve only gotten a couple of additional cups since then: A cup for winning a trivia night in 2014, the plain white coffee house-like cup I got for the photo on the cover of Coffee House Memories, and a couple of additional cups that were part of the gift sets, including a camoflauge cup that my brother gave me for Christmas the year before last, come to mind.

However, the number of cups that I use has dropped.

I’ve gotten back into the habit of drinking coffee from the same cup for days on end (which was basically how I did it when I worked outside the home, using the same giant Marquette University plastic mug day after day with but a rinsing in between). Since I’ve been underemployed for a couple of months and cut the K-Cups from daily expenditures when the company I worked for no longer covered them, I have been using the drip maker upstairs and have left the cup up there, generally full, as well. So I don’t finish the last cup I pour on any given day–I start the next day by slamming that (followed by any cold coffee left in the pot). So it’s rare that the cup on the counter is empty to put into the dishwasher. I tend to use a faded Washington Times mug I got when I subscribed twenty years ago or a similar large mug whose source I have forgotten. So I use those two cups and one or two of the Library Winter Reading Challenge mugs for most of my coffee/hot brew needs.

Still, I cannot really cull them because they’re personal relics.

One thing I really do want to cull, though, is the insulated tumblers. We have received a bunch as swag or for various charitable contributions, but since I work from home, I don’t need something like it for a commute (and I use a plastic insulated Green Bay Packers cup I got from my brother some years back to take coffee on the long ride home for those long trips where I want to start out with coffee). They replaced the plastic water bottle swag we got previously for chartiable contributions and in 5K gift bags, and they occupy basically the same cabinet space. But we hardly ever use them. A couple of plastic bottles fit into bicycle water holders, but that’s about it.

Ah, well, we do have the space for them, so I don’t have to make a decision now.

UPDATE: As I was writing this post, it made me want coffee. As I headed upstairs, I told my beautiful wife about the post, and she mentioned she has another insulated metal tumbler in her office that she just received. So maybe we don’t have that much room after all.

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Movie Report: Cry Macho (2021)

Book coverI picked this DVD up last year in 2023, and it has sitten upon my game storage cabinet along with many other unwatched videos gathered over recent years until a week ago Saturday, when I felt I needed a break from the longer and, honestly, less compelling books I’m reading for the 2025 Winter Reading Challenge. So I picked this one without giving it too much thought (too much thought in selecting a movie to watch often leads me to selecting nothing, so I have to be careful to pick quickly sometimes).

The film is set in 1979–the book upon which it was based came out in the middle 1970s and has been optioned for a film pretty much since then. Eastwood plays a broken down rodeo rider fired from training horses but who is asked by the ranch owner–whom Eastwood owes for taking care of him when he (Eastwood) hit bottom after his wife and child died in an automobile accident–to go to Mexico to retrieve his son from his Mexican mother. Which is what Eastwood does, finding the mother is a party girl trollop in a large house (probably a kept woman of some sort by probably a gangster, as she has a couple of heavies at her disposal) who tries to bed him but doesn’t know where her son is since he’s running on the streets. Eastwood finds him at a cockfight and discovers that he has been on the streets since he was mistreated and otherwise abused at home. The boy runs off after Eastwood tells him his mission, and the mother shags Eastwood off (not that way–in the gets rid of him way). But the boy has stowed away in the backseat of Eastwood’s vehicle with his rooster (named Macho, although it’s not clear when he cries). And we have a bit of a road trip movie as they travel to the border pursued by the mother’s heavies and sometimes police. They end up breaking down in a village where Eastwood becomes kind of the local veterinarian and he kind of falls for a widowed cafe owner who is raising her grandchildren. Eastwood discovers that the ranch owner’s real motivation is not to raise his son but rather to use the son as leverage over some property owned in the woman’s name.

But, thematically, it’s not too far off Gran Torino, which I just watched four years ago. An older Man (capital M) takes on a youngster (of a different nationality/ethnicity) and tries to show him how to be a Man.

So since I’m getting older myself, I appreciated the theme a bit more than maybe I would have, erm, a couple years ago. But Eastwood, as he has aged, has shifted his themes accordingly which is probably why he has remained relevant when other filmmakers and actors have not.

The film does have one quirk of note: The Mexican characters speak Spanish to one another, and it’s only sometimes subtitled. Which I found odd. Y porque no puedo oir la lengua muy bien, no comprendo mucho del español.

Also, the film featured Fernanda Urrejola as the boy’s mother and Natalia Traven as the cafe owner, and I suppose that the film’s relative disappointment at the box office is the only thing that kept this from becoming an Internet Versus debate.

Continue reading “Movie Report: Cry Macho (2021)”

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Double Envy

Cedar Sanderson has a new home library that not only can hold all of her books with room to expand but also that she acquired bookshelves for the project that might have been Larry McMurtry’s (from one of his book stores).

As you might remember, gentle reader, I killed McMurtry by reading one of his books (so many people of note seem to die when I write about them on this blog).

Also, note that the number of bookshelves Ms. Sanderson acquired would not be enough to house the overstuffed library at Nogglestead.

Thank you, that is all.

(Her library looks nice anyway.)

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Define “Hotspot”

Ernie Biggs Dueling Piano Bar closing in downtown Springfield

A downtown Springfield hotspot is closing.

In a Facebook post, the owners of Ernie Biggs Dueling Piano Bar announced that this would be its final weekend. They blamed financial challenges for the decision to shut down.

Downtown Springfield has seen another wave of closures recently for evening entertainment. Not sure if it’s really due to crime, homelessness (some overlap), or the challenging economy. Heaven knows I’ve only been downtown at night a couple of times over the last couple of years. Well, I’ve been to the local business co-working space for development meetings, but not for dinner and certainly not for drinks.

But “hotspots” don’t tend to close for financial reasons.

Full disclosure: We actually went to Ernie Biggs for drinks on our anniversary twelve years ago. So maybe I’m the problem by not supporting the downtown nightlife.

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Brian J. Keeps The Traditions Alive

I went to bed last night in the 8 o’clock hour and was up before 2am. As I wandered around Nogglestead awake, I thought I would maybe get back to bed about 4am and get a couple more hours of sleep. As I drew a glass of water from the kitchen sink, I thought that in the olden days, people would get up in the middle of the night for a while before going back to bed.

This very morning, Neo posted a video about the Medieval Two Sleeps:

But, Brian J., did you read any portion of the long books you have selected for the 2025 Winter Reading Challenge? Oh, but no. Mostly I sat in the darkness and worried. Because I did not want to spoil my night vision for when I did want to sneak back to bed.

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Shocking News from the World of Science

Jesus’ real name wasn’t Jesus, scientists claim — here’s why

Scientists have discovered:

  • Jesus did not speak English.
  • Jesus was not born in the Anglosphere at all.
  • Jesus was born a long time ago.
  • Different languages have different words…. and sounds!
  • History was a long time ago. Like before Trump was president the first time.

The scientists in question are not actually scientists at all.

None of the information in the article is actually news to practicing Christians who attend a church and understand how the Bible came about.

But it’s news to a journalist, and perhaps is proof that Christianity IS BUILT ON LIES!!!!!!

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Brian J.’s Recycler Tour, Hair Metal Edition

From this day in 2012:

Brian J. Noggle thinks he can find the hidden meaning in the hourly scrambled patterns of Europe-Bon Jovi-Motley Crue-Poison on the Sonic Tap Hair Guitar Channel. He thinks the Gen X Illuminati use it to communicate amongst themselves.

Wait a minute: Nelson’s “(I Can’t Live Without Your) Love and Affection” means they’re changing cypher keys.

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Another Notto Winner

Woman thought phone call was a scam before she inherited stranger’s £400,000 estate:

A woman who was told she was set to inherit a distant relative’s estate at first thought she was being sucked into a scam.

Lorraine Gesell, a 60-year-old living in Canada, received a call to say that her mother’s English cousin had died and that she was a beneficiary. In September 2021, Raymond Barry died alone aged 85 with no next of kin. However he left behind a sizeable estate worth more than £400,000. With no will either, there was no one set to inherit it.

I’ve heard this story before.

Big plans?

Lorraine hopes to go on a holiday with the money, but says she will probably spend it on home improvements instead.

Probably for the best, as:

In total, Finders International found 47 beneficiaries across New Zealand, Canada, Australia and throughout the UK – each taking a share of the estate.

Quick Internet math indicates that the at current exchange rates, that’s about $487,400. Heirs will give 30% to the heir hunter, and the recovered estate would pay for all legal bills, and each share would cap out at about $7,000 dollars. Hopefully not life-changing money, but helpful.

Ah, but what of your long-lost cousin’s case, Brian J.? I did not sign on, but fourteen different people apparently responded to the heir hunter. It’s in the window of six months for debtors to come forward with two or three months to go.

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Book Report: The Old Dog Barks Backwards by Ogden Nash (1972)

Book coverAh, gentle reader. As the 2025 Winter Reading Challenge has a category simply labeled “Funny” and as I laid my hands upon this volume of Ogden Nash poetry which I bought in 2021, I thought it would do. After all, I have found Nash amusing over the years. As I recount in my last book report on a Nash collection (I’m a Stranger Here Myself in 2019), I read a bunch of Ogden Nash poetry 15 years ago when I would sit and read the poems aloud to my toddlers as they played with blocks or whatever, trying to foster a love of reading, poetry, and/or silliness in them which lasted right up until they got smart phones.

At any rate, this is collection came out after Nash’s death, and it’s a bit…. Well, not jarring, but many of his best-known works came out in the period between the 1930s and early 1960s, so they always seemed to talk about a different time, a bit anachronistic and dealing with the pre-, during, and immediately post-World War II northeast. I mean, they weren’t Clarence Day, but they were closer to that era than to today.

Meanwhile, this book tackles and makes light of late 1960s America. The world of Dirty Harry, the Vietnam War, and whatnot. So it bridges a divide of sorts between a world my grandparents would have known and the world into which I was born. Odd.

Although I have to say that I probably draw more on Ogden Nash when I coin a word in one of my poems rather than drawing on some classic poet of antiquity.

So, “funny”? Well, it amused in spots as Nash does, but that’s about the best I can hope for out of a book.

So worth a read if you’re a Nash fan and maybe a good place to start if you’re not as you might find the topics a little less anachronistic if you’re of a certain age (that is, the age of someone who reads books instead of watching whatever short attention span app will arise on smart phones in the coming days).

Oh, and I do want to kvetch a little bit that I got this book in paperback (unlike the other volumes of Nash I own), and its spine cracked and the binding started giving way even though the book is but fifty-some years old. So maybe I will have to look for it in hardback somewhere as I might be becoming a Nash collector. Which is cheaper than collecting the car (so far).

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Book Report: A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles (2016)

Book coverThe 2025 Winter Reading Challenge has a category “Recommended to You,” which is a bit of a problematic category for me as I don’t have a wide circle of friends, most of the people I know don’t read books, and even people I know do read books, they tend to be of a different variety than I read. For example, my mother-in-law reads a lot of contemporary, modern, and a little messagish literary fiction, and my beautiful wife reads practical for her professional aspiration books like books on sales, technologies, and self-affirmatory books the types of which I buy from time to time but don’t tend to read (which leads to some hijinks at Nogglestead–a couple years back, she gave me a book about networking called Dig Your Well Before You’re Thirsty, which I said I’d heard of–which I had, as she picked a book from my to-read shelves to give to me as a gag, and no one told me till later). So when Jack Baruth mentioned this book on his Substack, I ordered a copy. I also ordered a copy for my mother-in-law for her birthday as buying a copy for her and for me is a fig leaf for when I want to buy a book which she might also find interesting–I say I’m buying it so we can both read it. To my knowledge, this is the first of such books that I’ve actually read–and she has been a little more dilligent about it than I.

At any rate, this book starts not long after the Soviet revolution in Russia. A gentleman, Count Alexander Rostov, is found to be a problem to the Soviets. However, as he purportedly wrote a pro-revolutionary poem some years before, instead of execution, he is given a modified Minus Six punishment–Minus Six being internal banishment in the USSR where the banishee could not live in the six largest cities and had to eke out an existence somewhere else. Count Rostov, instead, is confined to a grand hotel in Moscow which he cannot leave under the punishment of death. And he’s no longer allowed to stay in the elaborate suite he’d occupied–he’s banished to a small room upstairs.

The book starts pretty linearly with the banishment and the immediate aftermath, but soon starts skipping to incidents and plotlines spanning decades. The Count befriends the young daughter of a party official staying at the hotel, but she grows and becomes a young party participant herself. Eventually, she leaves but returns with a daughter that she wants the Count to watch for a couple of weeks which turns into years so that the Count calls the girl his daughter.

Through the decades, the Count learns to change with the times a bit and to handle the changes in life as he ages and as the Soviet Union and the Party evolves around him (I admit having some preparation for some of it having read some Dostoyevksy and Tolstoi and watching The Death of Stalin last year). There are subplots and threads running through it, including the Count’s relationship with an aging movie actress; a Party-favored fellow rising in the hotel management; and so on, but some of them feel as though they would be resolved or would change in the gaps in the narrative, but here they are, five years later, not much changed.

The writing is a bit florid and sensous in spots, especially when talking about food, and when you get down to it, characters aside from the Count are a bit cipherish, but it’s not a bad read. At 462 pages, it has proven to be the longest of the books I’ve read for the Winter Reading Challenge thus far, but it was a pretty quick read and fairly easy to break away from to fit in another bit of a shorter book during the reading thereof.

Definite life lessons to be learned from it: Changing/adapting with the times so that you’re not merely buffeted by them is the biggest one and to make the most of your surroundings even when they’re limited. Something I surely need to learn over and over again.

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What I Said, But More Thoughtfully and Less Me-Me-Me

The Librarian of Celaeno writes at Substack Collateral and the Remembrance of Death:

Directed by Mann and released in 2004, Collateral was one of a number of neo-noir films set in Los Angeles since the early 1990s, the first of which was The Two Jakes (1990) the sequel to 1974’s Chinatown. Neo-noir as a genre refers to films featuring themes of paranoia, alienation, vice, loneliness, and moral ambiguity, wherein the protagonists often have to make difficult ethical choices with no clear right path forward in a corrupt or indifferent world. It’s never nihilistic as such; morality does exist in the neo-noir universe, but good characters are often forced into situations where they have to do something ostensibly bad to prevent some greater evil. They generally also feature raw and realistic violence and incorporate unconventional camerawork to emphasize the fraying of mental and moral stability.

As always, his work is worth reading.

I watched Collateral last year, and the only intelligent thing I said about it was:

At any rate, the plot: Foxx plays a cab driver who picks up a blond Cruise at a courthouse after dropping off a prosecutor planning for a big case. Cruise has a couple of stops to have people sign papers for a real estate deal, so he engages the cab driver to drive him to all the stops. But, at the first stop, a body flies out the window and lands on the cab, and Max (the cab driver) learns Vincent (Cruise) is an assassin on a mission to… well, it develops, take out witnesses and the prosecutor in a case targeting one of his clients, or related organized crime figures.

Along the way, Max and Vincent develop a bit of a rapport. Vincent shakes Max out of a bit of a habitual, rote existence dreaming of better things (owning a limo company) and gets him to man up and demonstrate some confidence–one scene has Max going into a nightclub, pretending to be Vincent. But, in the end, the rapport is false, and Max has to protect his mother (whom he visited in the hospital with Vincent) and the pretty prosecutor who rode in Vincent’s cab earlier.

So the film has some depth in exploring the relationship between the men and how it evolves, mostly in Max drawing strength and confidence from the psychopath’s influence and ultimate his testing.

Which I suppose is okay as this is a blog and not a la-de-dah Substack.

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Book Report: The Maine Lobster Book by Mike Brown (1986)

Book coverAs with Karate-dō: My Way of Life:

When I started reading this book, it felt familiar: A book by a man who was the son of a noble family on Okinawa who became a teacher and then brought karate to Japan proper. I thought Oh, crap, I just read this!

Actually, I kid; I “just read” Linda Greenlaw’s The Lobster Chronicles in 2009. The books both cover lobster fishing in Maine, but this book is more straightforward documentation where the Greenlaw book was a personal narrative/memoir of the same thing.

At any rate, it, too, like most of the books I’ve read for the 2025 Winter Reading Challenge, is fairly short, clocking in at 98 pages. It’s condensed from a larger book, The Great Lobster Chase: The Real Story of Maine Lobsters and the Men Who Catch Them. Apparently, the longer book had a lot more discussion about policy, regulation, and legislation which were trimmed for this shorter book which focuses on the lobster, the fishermen, the equipment, the relationship, and the communities in which the fishermen live. The chapters are limned with a bit of humor, a wry but respectful tone that illustrates and informs and makes one greatful to be ashore and indoors when it’s cold outside.

Again, like so many of the books I’ve read for the Winter Reading Challenge and so many of the books in the stacks, it comes from the latter part of the 20th century and not the 21st. But I suppose the sheer proportion of books that have been published come from before now, so I guess that doesn’t make me too much of a fuddy duddy.

So a pleasant, short read to fill the Food category of the book. Is that a stretch? I went looking for a book that I bought some years back, the Dummies Guide to … something food related because I bought it for another food category on another Winter Reading Challenge. And I couldn’t find it. I also couldn’t find anything about peanuts (from a trip to the George Washington Carver historical site some years back), berries or preserving food, or anything like that. A couple general gardening books, but that felt like a stretch. Probably no more than a book about professional hunters/gatherers, but still. And if you ask me in the next couple of days how a lobster trap works, I might be able to answer it. But hurry–I would have expect that Greenlaw covered it, too, but I didn’t really retain it and probably will not again since it’s not a daily practical consideration.

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Brian J.: Worse Than Wolf Blitzer

The headline: CNN host Wolf Blitzer roasted for NFL TV setup after fans spot ‘veteran’ detail.

What, was something plugged in incorrectly? A slice of cheese on the uncooked meat, metaphorically speaking? Nah: Twitter just is dumb kids:

While Blitzer has been waiting a long time to witness his Bills lift the Lombardi Trophy, it appears it’s been even longer since he bought a new television.

According to his own photo, the reporter owns a very old school home entertainment setup, featuring a plasma screen television, DVD, VHS and CD players, and at least four difference remotes.

Social media users were quick to roast Blitzer for his ‘veteran’ setup as many urged him to upgrade his setup to more modern standards.

‘Love the two VCR’s. Can rewind one while watching another. Veteran move,’ one fan posted on X, formerly known as Twitter.

‘Bro is stuck in the 80’s with his furniture and TV. I thought @CNN paid better. Viewership must be way down,’ another added.

‘Like most grandparents, 20 year old tv with 20 year old peripherals,’ a third said, suggesting Blitzer wouldn’t be the sole member of his generation with a similar setup.

Yeah, dumb kids. Thanks to the news media for reporting the tweets of the uninformed, who will watch, briefly, the latest streaming pap or approved wokelderized versions of classics. Who own nothing and pretend to like it on the Internet.

Nogglestead’s peripherals are older than that. Even the television, big screen projection model that it is, is coming up on 20 years old. And I have almost fifty-year-old gaming systems hooked up.

I would pretend to get worked up about Twitter kidz (who might be 40 years old these days), but I cannot even pretend anymore. It’s all so tiresome.

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