Oddly, I feel as if I need a cigarette, and I don't even smoke

Stumbled over a great book on Barnes & Noble's remainder table the other day, Bizarre Books: A Compendium of Classic Oddities by Russell Ash and Brian Lake. If you're in need of a stocking stuffer for a book lover, see if you can find it. It's an illustrated list of odd books published over the years, and those with weird titles (Handbook for the Limbless) or strangely appropriate authors (Raymond W. Dull's Mathematics for Engineers).


I, for one, will be searching out Christie's Old Organ by Mrs. O.F. Walton (Religious Tract Society, 1882):

But when he had eaten his cake, and had taken some tea which he had warmed over again, old Treffy felt rather better, and he turned as usual to his old organ to cheer his fainting spirits. For old Treffy knew nothing of a better Comforter. ...

"Shall I take the organ out?"

Old Treffy did not answer; a great struggle was going on in his mind. Could he let any one but himself touch his dear old organ? It would be hard to see it go out, and have to stay behind--very hard indeed.

Whew!

Mushrooms: Not always magic

It's been ages since we've explored the recipe files of Jeanne Metzger Feinberg. Let's see what's for dinner.




Hmm. Is that a bowl of eyes? Because I'm pretty sure it's staring at me.

I also give you one illustration of the fact that mushrooms go with everything, just for the halibut.



I'm not a big fan of fish, but is halibut really supposed to be that color?

Concerned reader Grammarian points me toward this article on "the doyenne of food writers" Elizabeth David. Her comments are quite funny, but, seriously, if she thought Italian Salad is the "most revolting dish ever devised," I beg to differ, and offer as evidence bologna wedgies, supper sandwiches, and meatza. If you have a favorite revolting dish, do share.

UPDATE: Punkinsmom offers a Scandinavian treat.

UPDATE UPDATE: I see your ancestors' jellied fish in tomato juice and raise you my Scottish grandmother's potted head. Um, not actually her potted head. But, still. (For the record, she hated haggis and was otherwise a marvelous cook.)

So, how's that War on Christmas going?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

More uses of "Merry Christmas" than ever. Tiny uptick of "Happy Holidays," bringing it to 1950s levels. "Season's Greetings" is out of the running.

Note that the Ngram Viewer has its oddities--seems to make a difference whether you use capital letters or not. And "Season's Greetings," with apostrophe, wasn't coming up at all. Make of this what you will.

(Go to Friday's TVB entry for more on the Ngram Viewer, the fad that's sweeping the nation. I hope it gives the nation a thorough dusting, too.)

The Velvet Blog's influence on the national discourse, 1985-2008

Yes, it's the fad that's sweeping the globe: using Google's Ngram Viewer to chart the use of words or phrases over time. The New York Times story is here, and the tool itself is here.

I decided to track four stock TVB phrases--give me that banana, wacky high jinks ensue, garnish with fluffernutter, and barry manilow puts a sock in his pants--to see how they've made inroads into popular culture. Let's take a look:



Hmmm. Not so much, then.

Well, I take minor solace in noting that The Velvet Blog is the #1 Google hit for "wacky high jinks ensue," but it has dropped to #2 for "barry manilow puts a sock in his pants," (though the #1 hit is me complaining that I'm not the #1 hit on another site). You know, I should probably get some new hobbies.

Seriously? Seriously??? This is the argument???

The Marine Corps' top general suggested Tuesday that allowing gays to serve openly in the military could result in more casualties because their presence on the battlefield would pose "a distraction."

"When your life hangs on the line," said Gen. James F. Amos, the commandant of the Marine Corps, "you don't want anything distracting. . . . Mistakes and inattention or distractions cost Marines' lives." --Washington Post

I didn't realize Marines are such pussies.

Random 10

Nick Drake, "One of These Things First"
Mosquitos, "Domesticada"
XTC, "Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead"
Carole King, "(You Make Feel Like) A Natural Woman"
Chris Stamey, "Instant Karma"
Kirsty MacColl, "My Affair"
Broken Bells, "The High Road"
Joe Henry, "Trampoline"
Harry Nilsson, "1941"
The Raveonettes, "The Last Dance"

Satan ... Santa ... oh, whatever

Another repurposed post from last year. Woo-hoo!


This excerpt from a 1959 Mexican documentary reveals that Satan and his imps really know how to cut a rug:



It may be true, as the saying goes, that the devil has all the best tunes. Now we know that he's also a Bob Fosse wannabe. (Jazz hands!)

There's a Mystery Science Theater 3000 version -- part 1 is here -- but if you want to see all of the original, it's on TCM at 2:00 a.m. (That is, early Saturday morning.)

I predict these plucky kids will one day be bright and shining lights of the Republican party

Found this over at Regret the Error, which compiles news corrections:

Julie Bailey was featured in a Nov. 25 Crossroads story and photo about a T-shirt drive at Glasgow High School organized by her friend Ashley Green to support her. Contrary to the story, her parents, Kirk and Peggy Bailey, said their daughter does not have a brain tumor and has not been admitted to Alfred I. du Pont Hospital for Children during the past year.

Well, that's odd, I thought, so I tried to read the original story, only to find it had been deleted from its source, a site called Delaware Online. But I managed to find a cached version with a little inventive Googling.

(I'll pause now while you click the link above and read that bogus story in amazement. And, really, read the whole thing--there's a break in the middle, so scroll down.)

So many unanswered questions! Were the girls pranking the reporter, or did they scam the school? How did the reporter--oh, I don't know--decide not to interview Julie's parents?

I smell a TV movie.

And how has this not gone viral yet? This story seems to be an exclusive of The Velvet Blog, previously best known for posts about how Activia helps you poop.


UPDATE: My friend Denise points out the resemblance to the plot of Ferris Beuller's Day Off. So, just big John Hughes fans with a misguided tribute to the late director? If it turns out the girls also crashed the Von Steuben Day Parade and lip synced "Twist and Shout," that will settle the matter.

Note to self: Dolls must have heads and bodies

Kind of busy the next few weeks, so new posts will be minimal. Pardon me while I rerun a bunch of Christmas-themed posts from past years.

Time for a low-rent Christmas classic, "A Visit to Santa."

I think Santa's been nipping at the Wild Turkey. (Magic Helicopter? Please. No such thing.)

Weirdly, the narrator sounds like David Sedaris doing his excited elf voice in "Santaland Diaries" (albeit in a slightly lower key).





Oh my God ... I just had a Christmas flashback.

When I was four or five-ish, my parents brought me to the parking lot of Billy Blake's department store (a now-long-defunct '60s discount chain) for the arrival of Santa -- in his decidedly unmagic helicopter. He began climbing down the rope ladder when ... the pillow under his coat fell out.

Cries of bafflement were heard from the wilds of suburban Long Island to the North Pole. Mom, thinking quickly, explained that it was not actually Santa, but one of his many helpers.

Confused, I went on believing until the year* I noticed the remnants of a price tag on the box of a board game. Santa, if he existed -- I reasoned -- would have his elf indentured servants make toys. He would not buy retail.

*2005, give or take.


PARENTHETICAL ADDENDUM: I'm not kidding about the price tag on the board game -- that's really how I figured out I'd been the object of what amounts to a years-long practical joke (somewhat before 2005).

Flying reindeer? Fine! Fat man comes down the chimney? No problem!

Remnant of a price tag on supposedly elf-made game? Now hold on one darn minute there, mister!!

Quotations of the day

Nothing had been so hateful in the sight of these mobs as the man of learning, at first because they had served the princes, but then later because they refused to join in the bloodletting and tried to oppose the mobs, calling the crowds "bloodthirsty simpletons."

Joyfully the mobs accepted the name, took up the cry: Simpletons! Yes, yes! I'm a simpleton! Are you a simpleton? We'll build a town and we'll name it Simple Town, because by then all the smart bastards that caused all this, they'll be dead! Simpletons! Let's go! This ought to show 'em! Anybody here not a simpleton? Get the bastard, if there is! --Walter M. Miller, Jr., A Canticle for Leibowitz


I hope [the committees] will reconsider funding [of the Smithsonian Institution]. After all, why should the working class pay for the leisure, e.g., going to museums, of the upper class? We don't subsidize professional wrestling, yet the working class has to pay for the leisure of the rich. --William Donohue, Catholic League president

Donohue (no relation!) pushed the point further in an NPR interview that I'm trying to find a transcript of, in which he states baldly that only "elites" visit museums. "Regular" people simply prefer professional wrestling and shun museums. He himself never visits them, he says.

That may come as surprise to my father, who grew up on a farm, and my mother, who worked part-time in the local town hall and was otherwise a full-time mom. Neither attended college, though my mom went to secretarial school. (Does that make her an elite? I'm not sure where the lines are drawn these days.) They drove me down to Washington, D.C., and we saw the Capitol, the U.S. Mint, and, yes, the Smithsonian. I loved, loved, loved the Air and Space Museum, and that trip was one of the highlights of my youth. I remember it vividly, decades later.

Does Donohue even believe the crap he spouts? Does he really think schoolkids don't get inspired by seeing Betsy Ross' flag or the lunar module and would be better off seeing an exhibit of Randy Savage's singlets? I suspect it's just condescending bullshit to get donations from the rubes, but what do I know? (I do believe him, though, when he says he never visits museums.)

I despair. Truly.


UPDATE: Here is the quote from NPR:

"Why should the working class pay for the leisure of the elite when in fact one of the things the working class likes to do for leisure is to go to professional wrestling? And if I suggested we should have federal funds for professional wrestling to lower the cost of the ticket, people would think I'm insane. I don't go to museums any more than any Americans do," Donohue said. --NPR

Emphasis mine. (Way to recycle a quote, Bill.)

UPDATE UPDATE: Andrew Sullivan on the exhibit in question. He describes the item that offended Donohue toward the bottom.

Note to unemployed people who voted Republican last month

You get what you pay for.