In the previous post I quoted Treppenwitz regarding the meme with which I recently tried to infect him ("tagged", in blog parlance).
I also "tagged" four other individuals.
Habib ben-Achim Marwan (http://clochardtimes.blogspot.com/).
Knitter of Shiny Things (http://stillinthewoods.blogspot.com/).
Spiros (no blog as yet).
Steg (http://boroparkpyro.blogspot.com/).
So far, of course, none of them have OBEYED THE MEME!
A shandah, or something.
It is the height of summer. What was I thinking?!?!
Habib ben-Achim Marwan is probably savagely flirting with bikini-clad blondes on the Costa Del Sol for the next two months, Knitter of Shiny Things is enjoying a summer break or digging up old things somewhere, Spiros is getting set to sell books of magic to the underage, and Steg is off for the summer and deep in the depression of the nine days.
These four individuals have a lot in common, though, and you may well wonder what that is. Habib ben-Achim Marwan's blog is in riotous obscenity-laced Flemish, Knitter of Shiny Things tells you what you need to know about mikvaos, Spiros reads and cooks, and Steg has a rich life.
I see certain key characterisitics which they all share (and which they do not share with Treppenwitz), but I would challenge my readers to recognize what these are.
[I should also mention that whenever I read the comments under articles in the Algemeen Dagblad on the internet I am reminded why I am glad that I no longer live in the Netherlands, and why I should have left earlier. But when I read Habib ben-Achim Marwan's blog, I realize that I really should go back more often. If he ever starts writing about Belgian food he'll really drive me crazy.]
I invite guesses about the similarities between these bloggers from my readers.
-------------------------------------
ADDENDUM: I just noticed that Knitter of Shiny things has indeed blogged the meme. See here: http://stillinthewoods.blogspot.com/2007/07/meme-from-back-of-hill.html
Hints: Height fluctuates. At least six or eight knitting needles.
She does not tag, however.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
INFECTEDWITZ
One of the people I tried to infect with the meme I got from Tzipporah was Treppenwitz.
It did not take. He is immune.
[For explanation of the meme: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/07/eight-treasures-rice-pudding.html
For Tzippy's variant of the meme: http://midianitemanna.blogspot.com/2007/07/8-things-about-tzippy.html
For RWC's version: http://rabbiwithoutacause.blogspot.com/2007/07/eight-things-about-rwac.html
For a modern orthodox teenage misadventure: http://howtomeasuretheyears.blogspot.com/2007/06/tagged.html]
Trepp said (and I quote):
"OK, for the record, I hate memes. They make me feel obligated to do something that I'm likely to do voluntarily anyway. And the sense of obligation kills the drive. If you want to see 8 things about me, go to my archives and dig up my birthday lists. Every year I share a number of things about myself that roughly correspond to the number of trips I've taken around the sun. And that number is far greater than 8. I'm flattered to have been tagged, but must politely decline."
Well, that's pretty much par for the course. It doesn't look like any of the other infectees bit either.
So, just for the heck of it, I'll do Treppenwitz's list for him.
By listing some of his past posts which you should really read.
[Errrm, actually, this is complete laziness on my part. I didn't bother writing a post of my own today, and I got to reread someone else's stuff. But please, feel free to think of it as me doing his homework for him because he's too lazy to do it himself. Or something. Reinterpret and read between the lines, frevvins sake.]
ACHT TRAPPEN LIJST
[That's Dutch for 'acht treppen leist']
Priceless
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/10/priceless.html
Quote: "But I'm not between two and four... I'm six!" [Aval ani lo bein shtayim l'arbah... ani ben sheysh!"]
Small acts of kindness
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/10/sometimes_i_lov.html
"... 30 - 45 minutes before they officially close, the owner goes around to each cash register and locks the drawers... and then goes home. The cashiers have instructions to tell anyone coming after the drawers are locked that they have no way to accept money ... "
Verbal shortcuts and random telepathy
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/10/verbal_shortcut.html
" ... and you end up with a bumper crop of words in Hebrew that sound like gibberish to anyone ... "
Caffeinated Kids
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/12/caffeinated_kid.html
"... what people report after drinking a cup of coffee; alertness, better ability to focus... even enhanced ability to reason and make mental connections."
Quote of the day
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/01/quote_of_the_da.html
"... if we've learned nothing else from recent history it is that the leaders of the various Palestinian militias will eventually figure out that the only way for a faction to reassert its supremacy is to demonstrate its superior ability to bloody Israel's nose."
France Capitulates!
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/france_capitula.html
"... apparently it's never too soon for the Parisian government to start waving the white flag on their own - or anyone else's - behalf."
The smallest coldest room in the place
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/the_smallest_co.html
"... share your own experiences or theories concerning Israeli public bathrooms."
Boys with Boobs
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/boys_with_boobs.html
"That stampede-like sound you hear is millions of um, athletic women running to the store ..."
Color me confused (and frustrated)
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/color_me_confus.html
"... tell me there will come a point when I will stop inadvertently touching my ... "
Lastly, just in case you forgot, the best conversation between author and readers ever.
Warning: T.M.I.
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/05/warning_tmi.html
"... now that I'm lying here next to my desk in the fetal position ..."
Well. That ought to keep you busy.
If you have any personal favourites, let me know.
It did not take. He is immune.
[For explanation of the meme: http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2007/07/eight-treasures-rice-pudding.html
For Tzippy's variant of the meme: http://midianitemanna.blogspot.com/2007/07/8-things-about-tzippy.html
For RWC's version: http://rabbiwithoutacause.blogspot.com/2007/07/eight-things-about-rwac.html
For a modern orthodox teenage misadventure: http://howtomeasuretheyears.blogspot.com/2007/06/tagged.html]
Trepp said (and I quote):
"OK, for the record, I hate memes. They make me feel obligated to do something that I'm likely to do voluntarily anyway. And the sense of obligation kills the drive. If you want to see 8 things about me, go to my archives and dig up my birthday lists. Every year I share a number of things about myself that roughly correspond to the number of trips I've taken around the sun. And that number is far greater than 8. I'm flattered to have been tagged, but must politely decline."
Well, that's pretty much par for the course. It doesn't look like any of the other infectees bit either.
So, just for the heck of it, I'll do Treppenwitz's list for him.
By listing some of his past posts which you should really read.
[Errrm, actually, this is complete laziness on my part. I didn't bother writing a post of my own today, and I got to reread someone else's stuff. But please, feel free to think of it as me doing his homework for him because he's too lazy to do it himself. Or something. Reinterpret and read between the lines, frevvins sake.]
ACHT TRAPPEN LIJST
[That's Dutch for 'acht treppen leist']
Priceless
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/10/priceless.html
Quote: "But I'm not between two and four... I'm six!" [Aval ani lo bein shtayim l'arbah... ani ben sheysh!"]
Small acts of kindness
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/10/sometimes_i_lov.html
"... 30 - 45 minutes before they officially close, the owner goes around to each cash register and locks the drawers... and then goes home. The cashiers have instructions to tell anyone coming after the drawers are locked that they have no way to accept money ... "
Verbal shortcuts and random telepathy
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/10/verbal_shortcut.html
" ... and you end up with a bumper crop of words in Hebrew that sound like gibberish to anyone ... "
Caffeinated Kids
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2006/12/caffeinated_kid.html
"... what people report after drinking a cup of coffee; alertness, better ability to focus... even enhanced ability to reason and make mental connections."
Quote of the day
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/01/quote_of_the_da.html
"... if we've learned nothing else from recent history it is that the leaders of the various Palestinian militias will eventually figure out that the only way for a faction to reassert its supremacy is to demonstrate its superior ability to bloody Israel's nose."
France Capitulates!
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/france_capitula.html
"... apparently it's never too soon for the Parisian government to start waving the white flag on their own - or anyone else's - behalf."
The smallest coldest room in the place
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/the_smallest_co.html
"... share your own experiences or theories concerning Israeli public bathrooms."
Boys with Boobs
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/boys_with_boobs.html
"That stampede-like sound you hear is millions of um, athletic women running to the store ..."
Color me confused (and frustrated)
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/02/color_me_confus.html
"... tell me there will come a point when I will stop inadvertently touching my ... "
Lastly, just in case you forgot, the best conversation between author and readers ever.
Warning: T.M.I.
http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/2007/05/warning_tmi.html
"... now that I'm lying here next to my desk in the fetal position ..."
Well. That ought to keep you busy.
If you have any personal favourites, let me know.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
FRIGHTENINGLY INTELLIGENT FUTURE PIPE-SMOKER
One of the people in our little Bay Area cell of the Vast Zionist Conspiracy co-hosts a blog.
It is an interesting blog. See here: http://seriesofjews.blogspot.com/
It will become more interesting with use.
Both cohosts are in their teens. Both cohosts are intelligent. One of the cohosts will probably end up smoking a pipe. What's not to like?
The pipe-smoking may even start sometime this summer, once I hook his dad up with some of GLPease's Westminster mixture and Kensington mixture. And once it is certain that there are working briars in the house.
No, I am NOT corrupting a young person!
I have plausible deniability. Once the tobacco has been introduced into the household it ain't my business what happens next.
.
.
.
I started smoking a pipe when I was fourteen. I always parked my bicycle in front of the tobacconists whenever I went to Priem's bookstore (which was several times a week). For nearly two months that summer I saw a pipe in the window display that I liked. So I finally bought it. That was the first time I had ever been at a tobacconists.
About a month later I finally bought some tobacco. Several weeks after that the cat discovered my pipes and tobacco underneath a cabinet in the downstairs living room, and the jig was up.
That evening, I got a very stern lecture from my mother about THE ! EVILS ! OF ! SMOKING !
Tobacco kills. Emphysema. Lung cancer. Mouth kankers. Throat disease. Asthma. Indigestion. Moral turpitude. Lack of sex-appeal. Stunted growth. Decay, depravity, decadence. Fie fie fie!
She smoked three cigarettes during the harangue.
Once she had finished, she turned me over to my dad for another lecture.
He told me sternly to 'utterly avoid sauced tobaccos, because a good product does not need a candy stench to be enjoyable. Cheap perfumed tobaccos do not taste good, and smell like a Turkish cat house'.
Having said what he felt was important, he returned to his book.
I've been smoking good tobacco ever since.
I admire the breadth of his experience.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
It is an interesting blog. See here: http://seriesofjews.blogspot.com/
It will become more interesting with use.
Both cohosts are in their teens. Both cohosts are intelligent. One of the cohosts will probably end up smoking a pipe. What's not to like?
The pipe-smoking may even start sometime this summer, once I hook his dad up with some of GLPease's Westminster mixture and Kensington mixture. And once it is certain that there are working briars in the house.
No, I am NOT corrupting a young person!
I have plausible deniability. Once the tobacco has been introduced into the household it ain't my business what happens next.
.
.
.
I started smoking a pipe when I was fourteen. I always parked my bicycle in front of the tobacconists whenever I went to Priem's bookstore (which was several times a week). For nearly two months that summer I saw a pipe in the window display that I liked. So I finally bought it. That was the first time I had ever been at a tobacconists.
About a month later I finally bought some tobacco. Several weeks after that the cat discovered my pipes and tobacco underneath a cabinet in the downstairs living room, and the jig was up.
That evening, I got a very stern lecture from my mother about THE ! EVILS ! OF ! SMOKING !
Tobacco kills. Emphysema. Lung cancer. Mouth kankers. Throat disease. Asthma. Indigestion. Moral turpitude. Lack of sex-appeal. Stunted growth. Decay, depravity, decadence. Fie fie fie!
She smoked three cigarettes during the harangue.
Once she had finished, she turned me over to my dad for another lecture.
He told me sternly to 'utterly avoid sauced tobaccos, because a good product does not need a candy stench to be enjoyable. Cheap perfumed tobaccos do not taste good, and smell like a Turkish cat house'.
Having said what he felt was important, he returned to his book.
I've been smoking good tobacco ever since.
I admire the breadth of his experience.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, July 16, 2007
EIGHT TREASURES RICE PUDDING
Tzipporah (Midianite Manna: http://www.midianitemanna.blogspot.com/)
has tagged me to carry on a meme with the following rules:
Each player lists eight things (facts or habits) about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those things are listed. At the end of the post the player tags eight people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read the post and pass the meme and tag onward.
All righty then. Do I boast? Do I confess odd things? Do I ego-trip? Do I startle you? Do I bore with platitudinous detail?
[Do I mention that I am a horrible attention-whore? No, I guess I had better not.]
It's all about me, is it?
Eight things you do not need to know about me:
1. I like smells. I'll cross the street to get close to hot tar and durian. I inhale deeply in elevators. I love mildew. Rotten apples. Cheese. A woman's hair. Burning rubber. Ink. Cardamom. Freshly scrubbed stainless steel. Fish.
2. I learned Cantonese (粵語) from gangster movies made in Hong Kong (香港). You can imagine what that says about my vocabulary and accent. But I have quite decent handwriting, including chuan-shu (篆書) and running script (行書), so I'm not entirely a Tsim-tung (尖東) thug.
3. I own over one hundred and twenty briar pipes. Of which about half are of excellent quality, and the remainder are oddities, curiosities, and bang-arounders. This, by the way, is not unusual for pipe-smokers. What is slightly unusual is that I have nearly eight-hundred tins of pipe-tobacco stashed in my apartment - this should last me for the next decade and a half.
4. I enjoy my job.
5. I have no fetishes.
6. Coconut milk (santen), lemon grass (serai), chilies (tjabai), galangal (lengkuas), kemiri nuts and fish-paste are essential ingredients. So is cooking sherry. Kluwek are not, strictly speaking, essential, but it is very good to have some around for rawon.
7. Dutch is a remarkable language for poetry. Sonnets in Dutch can be terrific, heroic verse is divine. English, on the other hand, is good for doggerel - and there are some very fine doggerel meisters in English, make no mistake. But the English language has only a handful of actual poets, and sheer bucket-loads of nauseatingly bad verse. Sorry. It's the truth.
8. I have memorized much Chinese verse (律詩, 絕句).
Predictably, I like Li Po (李白), Tu Fu (杜甫), and Wang Wei (王維). Zhang Ji's famous poem 'night mooring at maple bridge' (楓橋夜泊) was the first Chinese poem I memorized: "Yue luo wu ti, shuang man tian; Jiang feng yu huo dui shou mien; Gu Su sheng wai, han shan shi; Yeh pun chong shen dao ke chuen" (the moon is low and a crow caws, frost fills the sky; river bank maples and fishermen's flares meet the tired eyes; Outside of SuZhou - from Cold Mountain Temple, The Midnight bell's chime - reaches the traveller's boat). During the T'ang Dynasty (唐朝) this poem rhymed, but the language has changed since then. Zhang Ji (張繼) wrote it on his way back home after failing the metropolitan examinations. He was despondent. Little is known about him otherwise. This poem is what everyone remembers, however, as it is included in the classic collection 'Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty (Tang Shi San Pai Shou: 唐詩三百首), which in the past many students committed to memory.
9. Astrology is bunkum.
Enough about me.
Let's talk about you.
I'm tagging these gentlepersons:
Habib ben-Achim Marwan (http://clochardtimes.blogspot.com/).
Knitter of Shiny Things (http://stillinthewoods.blogspot.com/).
Spiros (no blog, but add your eight to the comments).
Steg (http://boroparkpyro.blogspot.com/).
Treppenwitz (http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/).
Enough. Panch main parmesvar - God is with five.
By the way. You may have noticed that I do not adhere very well to rules. Please do not make any snide comments about that, or I will walk all over the grass, cross in the middle of the block, and smoke around children, cripples and the elderly. I mean it.
has tagged me to carry on a meme with the following rules:
Each player lists eight things (facts or habits) about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those things are listed. At the end of the post the player tags eight people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read the post and pass the meme and tag onward.
All righty then. Do I boast? Do I confess odd things? Do I ego-trip? Do I startle you? Do I bore with platitudinous detail?
[Do I mention that I am a horrible attention-whore? No, I guess I had better not.]
It's all about me, is it?
Eight things you do not need to know about me:
1. I like smells. I'll cross the street to get close to hot tar and durian. I inhale deeply in elevators. I love mildew. Rotten apples. Cheese. A woman's hair. Burning rubber. Ink. Cardamom. Freshly scrubbed stainless steel. Fish.
2. I learned Cantonese (粵語) from gangster movies made in Hong Kong (香港). You can imagine what that says about my vocabulary and accent. But I have quite decent handwriting, including chuan-shu (篆書) and running script (行書), so I'm not entirely a Tsim-tung (尖東) thug.
3. I own over one hundred and twenty briar pipes. Of which about half are of excellent quality, and the remainder are oddities, curiosities, and bang-arounders. This, by the way, is not unusual for pipe-smokers. What is slightly unusual is that I have nearly eight-hundred tins of pipe-tobacco stashed in my apartment - this should last me for the next decade and a half.
4. I enjoy my job.
5. I have no fetishes.
6. Coconut milk (santen), lemon grass (serai), chilies (tjabai), galangal (lengkuas), kemiri nuts and fish-paste are essential ingredients. So is cooking sherry. Kluwek are not, strictly speaking, essential, but it is very good to have some around for rawon.
7. Dutch is a remarkable language for poetry. Sonnets in Dutch can be terrific, heroic verse is divine. English, on the other hand, is good for doggerel - and there are some very fine doggerel meisters in English, make no mistake. But the English language has only a handful of actual poets, and sheer bucket-loads of nauseatingly bad verse. Sorry. It's the truth.
8. I have memorized much Chinese verse (律詩, 絕句).
Predictably, I like Li Po (李白), Tu Fu (杜甫), and Wang Wei (王維). Zhang Ji's famous poem 'night mooring at maple bridge' (楓橋夜泊) was the first Chinese poem I memorized: "Yue luo wu ti, shuang man tian; Jiang feng yu huo dui shou mien; Gu Su sheng wai, han shan shi; Yeh pun chong shen dao ke chuen" (the moon is low and a crow caws, frost fills the sky; river bank maples and fishermen's flares meet the tired eyes; Outside of SuZhou - from Cold Mountain Temple, The Midnight bell's chime - reaches the traveller's boat). During the T'ang Dynasty (唐朝) this poem rhymed, but the language has changed since then. Zhang Ji (張繼) wrote it on his way back home after failing the metropolitan examinations. He was despondent. Little is known about him otherwise. This poem is what everyone remembers, however, as it is included in the classic collection 'Three Hundred Poems of the T'ang Dynasty (Tang Shi San Pai Shou: 唐詩三百首), which in the past many students committed to memory.
9. Astrology is bunkum.
Enough about me.
Let's talk about you.
I'm tagging these gentlepersons:
Habib ben-Achim Marwan (http://clochardtimes.blogspot.com/).
Knitter of Shiny Things (http://stillinthewoods.blogspot.com/).
Spiros (no blog, but add your eight to the comments).
Steg (http://boroparkpyro.blogspot.com/).
Treppenwitz (http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz/).
Enough. Panch main parmesvar - God is with five.
By the way. You may have noticed that I do not adhere very well to rules. Please do not make any snide comments about that, or I will walk all over the grass, cross in the middle of the block, and smoke around children, cripples and the elderly. I mean it.
Friday, July 13, 2007
ATTORNEY AMNON DE HARTOG VERSUS MK RABBI YAAKOV "BEHAIMA" COHEN
Biggest spitfest on the blogs this past week: The discussion about Amnon De Hartog knocking Knesset-member Ya'akov Cohen to the floor.
What happened is this: in a 'debate' over funding for Hareidi schools which do not meet the standards for certain allocations, Attorney De Hartog, on behalf of the executive branch of the Israeli government, informed Ya'akov Cohen of the United Torah Judaism (UTJ) party that approval would not be granted. Mr. Cohen got angry and said some things. Whereupon Attorney Amnon De Hartog said he would slap Cohen. Cohen responded "I'm waiting". And De Hartog did not let him wait anymore.
Two things especially should be noted:
1. It is Attorney De Hartog's job to ensure that every organization receiving funds actually qualifies. In that task he has blocked funding across the board, to organizations running the gamut from horrifyingly secular to sickeningly religious. The record shows that he has been honest and thorough.
2. The UTJ and Shas have both put pressure on Amnon De Hartog to break the law and pass funding for schools and programs which do not qualify. Because he failed to do so, certain elements in the Hareidi block have mounted a vicious campaign of harassment and character-assassination against him, going so far as to slander him in print and turn members of his own synagogue against him. This has been going on for years.
Now, what was it that Member of Knesses Rabbi Ya'akov Cohen said to De Hartog that elicited that slap?
"You are worse than the Germans. The Germans killed the body, you are killing the soul."
In effect, Mr. Cohen told De Hartog that he was worse than the very same Nazis who slaughtered over twenty of De Hartog's close relatives in the Netherlands during the holocaust - and it should be remembered that over eighty percent of Dutch Jewry were killed during the war.
Cohen. Said. That. He. Was. Worse. Than. Those. Who. Had. Murdered. De Hartog's. Family. And. Community.
Either Cohen is a remarkably ignorant piece of work with blinkers to boot, or he just has a low opinion of Dutch Jews in general.
Or, as De Hartog called him, Cohen is indeed a behaima.
HERE ARE LINKS TO THE DISCUSSIONS ON DOVBEAR'S BLOG:
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/about-slap.html
In which Dov postulates that the Cohen fellow may have needed slapping.
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/more-on-slap.html
In which Dov provides a link to another excellent blog.
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/slap-historical-perspective.html
Slapping in American politics.
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/ed-and-his-gruesome-glibness.html
Dov takes issue with Ed defending Cohen and attacking De Hartog.
AND AM K'SHE OREF (BARAK) HAS THESE POSTS:
http://amksheoref.blogspot.com/2007/07/mi-samcha-lish-who-made-you-lord-not.html
In which, in his third point, he mentions the Behaima-slapping episode.
http://amksheoref.blogspot.com/2007/07/de-hartog-slap-saga-continues.html
Mention of Dovbear's blog.
http://amksheoref.blogspot.com/2007/07/after-heat-of-moment.html
Which provides a more balanced perspective than many of us have been capable of to date.
HERE'S DOVBEAR CONTRASTING IDEAL VERSUS REAL:
".......
What I REALLY think should have happened...
Dehartug: Um, bro, listen: You're schools aren't meeting the legal criteria, so according to the law I can't let you have the cash.
MK Cohen: Oh, I quite understand. And what you're saying is true. Our schools do fall short of the legal criteria, but I assure you that we still provide excellent educations.
Dehartug: Good sir, I don't doubt your assertion, but the law is the law.
MK Cohen: I quite agree. Well thank you for your time. Good day, sir.
WHAT HAPPENED INSTEAD
Dehartug: Um, bro, listen: You're schools aren't meeting the legal criteria, so according to the law I can't let you have the cash.
MK COHEN: YOU GERMAN NAZI BASTARD (paraphrased)
......."
Capping it all off, here's what Member of Knesset Avraham Ravitz said afterwards:
"Hartog attempted to expel the Haredim from Israeli society as if we were Darfur refugees, to keep us from receiving the bare minimum. The slap demonstrates the hate he has accumulated, merely because we tell him to his face what we think about his tricky tactics --- The master doesn't like it when the Jewboy tells him to his face what he thinks about him."
It should be noted that this is a frumm Jew speaking of another frumm Jew. Speaking in fact, of a frumm Jew who is a Hesder Yeshiva graduate and a religious Zionist.
There are several things one could say about people like Avraham Ravitz, Ya'akov Cohen, and their ilk in UTJ. Rather than going into detail, I wish to merely state that they should learn what the following terms mean: Ahavas Yisroel; Derech Eretz; Lashon Hara, Rechilus, Motzi Shem Ra'a, Ona'as Dvorim, Nibul Peh.....
Final note: De Hartog apologized publicly and completely for the slap. As of this writing, all Mr. Cohen has done is kvetch. He has not apologized for his odious statement at all.
What happened is this: in a 'debate' over funding for Hareidi schools which do not meet the standards for certain allocations, Attorney De Hartog, on behalf of the executive branch of the Israeli government, informed Ya'akov Cohen of the United Torah Judaism (UTJ) party that approval would not be granted. Mr. Cohen got angry and said some things. Whereupon Attorney Amnon De Hartog said he would slap Cohen. Cohen responded "I'm waiting". And De Hartog did not let him wait anymore.
Two things especially should be noted:
1. It is Attorney De Hartog's job to ensure that every organization receiving funds actually qualifies. In that task he has blocked funding across the board, to organizations running the gamut from horrifyingly secular to sickeningly religious. The record shows that he has been honest and thorough.
2. The UTJ and Shas have both put pressure on Amnon De Hartog to break the law and pass funding for schools and programs which do not qualify. Because he failed to do so, certain elements in the Hareidi block have mounted a vicious campaign of harassment and character-assassination against him, going so far as to slander him in print and turn members of his own synagogue against him. This has been going on for years.
Now, what was it that Member of Knesses Rabbi Ya'akov Cohen said to De Hartog that elicited that slap?
"You are worse than the Germans. The Germans killed the body, you are killing the soul."
In effect, Mr. Cohen told De Hartog that he was worse than the very same Nazis who slaughtered over twenty of De Hartog's close relatives in the Netherlands during the holocaust - and it should be remembered that over eighty percent of Dutch Jewry were killed during the war.
Cohen. Said. That. He. Was. Worse. Than. Those. Who. Had. Murdered. De Hartog's. Family. And. Community.
Either Cohen is a remarkably ignorant piece of work with blinkers to boot, or he just has a low opinion of Dutch Jews in general.
Or, as De Hartog called him, Cohen is indeed a behaima.
HERE ARE LINKS TO THE DISCUSSIONS ON DOVBEAR'S BLOG:
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/about-slap.html
In which Dov postulates that the Cohen fellow may have needed slapping.
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/more-on-slap.html
In which Dov provides a link to another excellent blog.
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/slap-historical-perspective.html
Slapping in American politics.
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/ed-and-his-gruesome-glibness.html
Dov takes issue with Ed defending Cohen and attacking De Hartog.
AND AM K'SHE OREF (BARAK) HAS THESE POSTS:
http://amksheoref.blogspot.com/2007/07/mi-samcha-lish-who-made-you-lord-not.html
In which, in his third point, he mentions the Behaima-slapping episode.
http://amksheoref.blogspot.com/2007/07/de-hartog-slap-saga-continues.html
Mention of Dovbear's blog.
http://amksheoref.blogspot.com/2007/07/after-heat-of-moment.html
Which provides a more balanced perspective than many of us have been capable of to date.
HERE'S DOVBEAR CONTRASTING IDEAL VERSUS REAL:
".......
What I REALLY think should have happened...
Dehartug: Um, bro, listen: You're schools aren't meeting the legal criteria, so according to the law I can't let you have the cash.
MK Cohen: Oh, I quite understand. And what you're saying is true. Our schools do fall short of the legal criteria, but I assure you that we still provide excellent educations.
Dehartug: Good sir, I don't doubt your assertion, but the law is the law.
MK Cohen: I quite agree. Well thank you for your time. Good day, sir.
WHAT HAPPENED INSTEAD
Dehartug: Um, bro, listen: You're schools aren't meeting the legal criteria, so according to the law I can't let you have the cash.
MK COHEN: YOU GERMAN NAZI BASTARD (paraphrased)
......."
Capping it all off, here's what Member of Knesset Avraham Ravitz said afterwards:
"Hartog attempted to expel the Haredim from Israeli society as if we were Darfur refugees, to keep us from receiving the bare minimum. The slap demonstrates the hate he has accumulated, merely because we tell him to his face what we think about his tricky tactics --- The master doesn't like it when the Jewboy tells him to his face what he thinks about him."
It should be noted that this is a frumm Jew speaking of another frumm Jew. Speaking in fact, of a frumm Jew who is a Hesder Yeshiva graduate and a religious Zionist.
There are several things one could say about people like Avraham Ravitz, Ya'akov Cohen, and their ilk in UTJ. Rather than going into detail, I wish to merely state that they should learn what the following terms mean: Ahavas Yisroel; Derech Eretz; Lashon Hara, Rechilus, Motzi Shem Ra'a, Ona'as Dvorim, Nibul Peh.....
Final note: De Hartog apologized publicly and completely for the slap. As of this writing, all Mr. Cohen has done is kvetch. He has not apologized for his odious statement at all.
TSHUVA IS REQUIRED
Barak, gasping, wrote:
A gadol admit he made a mistake?! Wow! That Arctic breeze you just felt was from Hell. It froze over.Wonder if he'll apologize to Rabbi Slifkin for making Rabbi Slifkin's life a living hell for the past few years as publicly as he denounced Rabbi Slifkin and put him in Cherem...
Good heavens no. Instead, it will be precisely like the explanation for some parts of the Quran (a minor heathen religious tract, for those who do not know) flatly contradicting other parts.
Let's see:
1. This sura is from the Medina period, that sura is from the Mecca period; of course they say different things.
2. You are mistaken - the relevant details and circumstances are different.
3. That is explained using an alternative interpretation of an obscure term which you could not possibly understand.
4. Only applies to unbelievers, so why are you asking?
5. Kafir! Rafidi!
A gadol is by definition infallible. Ergo you must be mistaken. If you read the relevant material again with sincerity you will grasp this. Either that or you are incapable of understanding. Tshuva is required.
A gadol admit he made a mistake?! Wow! That Arctic breeze you just felt was from Hell. It froze over.Wonder if he'll apologize to Rabbi Slifkin for making Rabbi Slifkin's life a living hell for the past few years as publicly as he denounced Rabbi Slifkin and put him in Cherem...
Good heavens no. Instead, it will be precisely like the explanation for some parts of the Quran (a minor heathen religious tract, for those who do not know) flatly contradicting other parts.
Let's see:
1. This sura is from the Medina period, that sura is from the Mecca period; of course they say different things.
2. You are mistaken - the relevant details and circumstances are different.
3. That is explained using an alternative interpretation of an obscure term which you could not possibly understand.
4. Only applies to unbelievers, so why are you asking?
5. Kafir! Rafidi!
A gadol is by definition infallible. Ergo you must be mistaken. If you read the relevant material again with sincerity you will grasp this. Either that or you are incapable of understanding. Tshuva is required.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
FLAKE
While reading up on Peterson's Irish Flake, I found the following statement:
"Have yourself a nice meal, pour a slug of whiskey or strong black coffee, put something by John Ford on the box, grab your vorpal sword, and enjoy being a man.
Or, you know, a tough woman."
Source: Seamus on Tobacco Reviews dot com.
In his mind this relates to a blend of air-cured, flue-cured, and dark-fired, which has been pressed, stoved, and sliced thin - a strong tobacco.
For me, however, it both evokes a wonderful world of myriad (two) possibilities, as well as the individual I mentioned in the previous post, which you will find upon scrolling down.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
"Have yourself a nice meal, pour a slug of whiskey or strong black coffee, put something by John Ford on the box, grab your vorpal sword, and enjoy being a man.
Or, you know, a tough woman."
Source: Seamus on Tobacco Reviews dot com.
In his mind this relates to a blend of air-cured, flue-cured, and dark-fired, which has been pressed, stoved, and sliced thin - a strong tobacco.
For me, however, it both evokes a wonderful world of myriad (two) possibilities, as well as the individual I mentioned in the previous post, which you will find upon scrolling down.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
SCALLOP SHELL BIKINI
I have just had the distinctly disturbing experience of seeing the Head of International Sales wearing a scallop-shell bikini.
It is seared upon my eyes, yea even upon the backs of my eyes.
I hope that I do not wake up screaming in the night.
No matter how slender and trim the man, there are some garments that should not be worn by grey-haired boys in an office environment.
It is seared upon my eyes, yea even upon the backs of my eyes.
I hope that I do not wake up screaming in the night.
No matter how slender and trim the man, there are some garments that should not be worn by grey-haired boys in an office environment.
LAL MASJID
The Pakistani army yesterday overwhelmed the Islamic fanatics who had holed up in Islamabad's Red Mosque.
In doing so, they inadvertently whacked Abdul Rashid Ghazi, whom they had wished to capture alive.
Per the Pakistani government, some fifty whackjobs snuffed it alongside mr. Ghazi.
But according to a source within Inter Services Intelligence (ISI) who spoke to the Spanish news bureau (EFE) on condition that he not be named, the number of dead whackjobs is probably in the hundreds - over 286 Islamic whackjob cadavers had been recovered as of this writing. The source, who probably represents the whackjob faction in ISI, further said that the government intended to hide the scale of the bloodbath by burying the corpses of the deceased whackjobs in dead of night.
Given that the whackjobs holed up in the Red Mosque and the Madrassa compound represented the most repulsive type of Pakistani religious nut, and given their connections with AlQaeda (who have already gibbered about vengeance), with extremists in Waziristan, with terrorists fighting the Indian army in Kashmir, with Uzbeki gangsters on the run in Pakistan, and with the murderers of Daniel Pearl, what the Pakistani army really should do is burn the bodies of these whackjobs in public and cover the charred remains with a concrete slab, then bulldoze the mosque itself and turn it into a parking-lot for a Kentucky Fried Creature franchise.
Well, whatever. It is advisable that they now seize Abdul Rashid Ghazi's kinfolk in Rajanpur and most male members of the Mazari tribe - those who supported the insanity and nurtured it have done their nation a horrible disservice and it is fitting that they be questioned. Which is perfectly in keeping with local traditions in that part of the world besides. In Pakistan, a man's clan and tribe function as both his support-group and his enablers - if he snuffs it, no matter how justifiable his whacking, his clan and his tribe will seek vengeance. Depravity, treason, and psychosis are of no consequence in such matters, and certainly not foreign to Pakistani society in any case. Allowing these people to remain free will be a costly error. When you kill a spider, clear away the cobweb.
His brother, Maulana Abdul Aziz, must also be held responsible. He, you will recall, is the man who fled the Mosque wearing women's clothes. As Khatib of the mosque he set the tone and riled up the passions.
It is a dreary constant in the Islamic world that impressionable members of kawm and umma tend towards hysteria and mob behaviour every Friday after prayers. The sermons of fanatic khutaba are primarily responsible for this. Such preachers are usually staggeringly ignorant of everything except the most hateful parts of Quran and Sharia, these being the only works of fiction that they read.
-----------------------------------------
Oh by the way, I am VERY tolerant of Muslims, why, even some of my best friends are Muslims. You might not have gotten that from the text above, so I feel I have to say it. Indeedy yes, I do love Muslims; they are FINE people, and SO friendly.
In fact, dare I say it, Pakistanis are the most perfect flower of Islamic civilization and culture, in whose reflected glory all other Muslims bask, and whose sterling example they follow. And having both Pakistanis AND Muslims, the world is doubly blessed.
PS. I also very much like the French and the English.
In doing so, they inadvertently whacked Abdul Rashid Ghazi, whom they had wished to capture alive.
Per the Pakistani government, some fifty whackjobs snuffed it alongside mr. Ghazi.
But according to a source within Inter Services Intelligence (ISI) who spoke to the Spanish news bureau (EFE) on condition that he not be named, the number of dead whackjobs is probably in the hundreds - over 286 Islamic whackjob cadavers had been recovered as of this writing. The source, who probably represents the whackjob faction in ISI, further said that the government intended to hide the scale of the bloodbath by burying the corpses of the deceased whackjobs in dead of night.
Given that the whackjobs holed up in the Red Mosque and the Madrassa compound represented the most repulsive type of Pakistani religious nut, and given their connections with AlQaeda (who have already gibbered about vengeance), with extremists in Waziristan, with terrorists fighting the Indian army in Kashmir, with Uzbeki gangsters on the run in Pakistan, and with the murderers of Daniel Pearl, what the Pakistani army really should do is burn the bodies of these whackjobs in public and cover the charred remains with a concrete slab, then bulldoze the mosque itself and turn it into a parking-lot for a Kentucky Fried Creature franchise.
Well, whatever. It is advisable that they now seize Abdul Rashid Ghazi's kinfolk in Rajanpur and most male members of the Mazari tribe - those who supported the insanity and nurtured it have done their nation a horrible disservice and it is fitting that they be questioned. Which is perfectly in keeping with local traditions in that part of the world besides. In Pakistan, a man's clan and tribe function as both his support-group and his enablers - if he snuffs it, no matter how justifiable his whacking, his clan and his tribe will seek vengeance. Depravity, treason, and psychosis are of no consequence in such matters, and certainly not foreign to Pakistani society in any case. Allowing these people to remain free will be a costly error. When you kill a spider, clear away the cobweb.
His brother, Maulana Abdul Aziz, must also be held responsible. He, you will recall, is the man who fled the Mosque wearing women's clothes. As Khatib of the mosque he set the tone and riled up the passions.
It is a dreary constant in the Islamic world that impressionable members of kawm and umma tend towards hysteria and mob behaviour every Friday after prayers. The sermons of fanatic khutaba are primarily responsible for this. Such preachers are usually staggeringly ignorant of everything except the most hateful parts of Quran and Sharia, these being the only works of fiction that they read.
-----------------------------------------
Oh by the way, I am VERY tolerant of Muslims, why, even some of my best friends are Muslims. You might not have gotten that from the text above, so I feel I have to say it. Indeedy yes, I do love Muslims; they are FINE people, and SO friendly.
In fact, dare I say it, Pakistanis are the most perfect flower of Islamic civilization and culture, in whose reflected glory all other Muslims bask, and whose sterling example they follow. And having both Pakistanis AND Muslims, the world is doubly blessed.
PS. I also very much like the French and the English.
SLAP THAT BEHAIMA!
Attorney Amnon De Hartog of the Israeli Attorney General's office smacked MK (member of knesset) Yaakov Cohen (United Torah Judaism) in the face Tuesday morning.
And now Hareidim are in an uproar.
The incident, which resulted from bad blood between the Hareidim and the attorney over his repeated refusals of funding for certain Hareidi educational programs, reached a boiling point when De Hartog called Yaakov Cohen an animal. Cohen then took it over the top by saying: "You're worse than the Germans; they wanted to destroy the body, while you want to destroy our soul."
De Hartog, who lost over twenty members of his family in Holland during the war, then warned Cohen that he would hit him. Cohen dared him to do just that. So De Hartog knocked him to the floor.
De Hartog is religious-Zionist, Cohen is Hareidi-religious.
I am neither, so I should not have a bird in this cock-fight.
But obviously I do. I am vested emotionally in the justice and tzadkus on the side of attorney De Hartog and find mr. Cohen's comment to have been beyond the pale, reprehensible, and loathsome. A disgusting comment, for which that grauber cossack should be censured and excoriated.
I feel that De Hartog should've trapped that boerekinkel firmly in the kloten. But in lieu thereof, I'll settle for administering another frosk in ponim.
Other than that, carry on boys. Debate is good.
---------------
In other news, a Hareidi man who requested that several young Arab men on a bus in Jerusalem cease harassing Jewish girls also traveling on the bus was beaten up.
It's fairly clear who the civilized side in this incident is, isn't it? I mean, can there be any doubt? And it isn't as if this is an isolated occurrence, or out of character. Nor is it arguable that such behaviour represents years and years of frustration over injustice (even though I know that some people will claim exactly that). Harassing girls is just not cricket. Those shgatzim need to be worked over with a rubber hose and sent back weeping to their mommies.
And now Hareidim are in an uproar.
The incident, which resulted from bad blood between the Hareidim and the attorney over his repeated refusals of funding for certain Hareidi educational programs, reached a boiling point when De Hartog called Yaakov Cohen an animal. Cohen then took it over the top by saying: "You're worse than the Germans; they wanted to destroy the body, while you want to destroy our soul."
De Hartog, who lost over twenty members of his family in Holland during the war, then warned Cohen that he would hit him. Cohen dared him to do just that. So De Hartog knocked him to the floor.
De Hartog is religious-Zionist, Cohen is Hareidi-religious.
I am neither, so I should not have a bird in this cock-fight.
But obviously I do. I am vested emotionally in the justice and tzadkus on the side of attorney De Hartog and find mr. Cohen's comment to have been beyond the pale, reprehensible, and loathsome. A disgusting comment, for which that grauber cossack should be censured and excoriated.
I feel that De Hartog should've trapped that boerekinkel firmly in the kloten. But in lieu thereof, I'll settle for administering another frosk in ponim.
Other than that, carry on boys. Debate is good.
---------------
In other news, a Hareidi man who requested that several young Arab men on a bus in Jerusalem cease harassing Jewish girls also traveling on the bus was beaten up.
It's fairly clear who the civilized side in this incident is, isn't it? I mean, can there be any doubt? And it isn't as if this is an isolated occurrence, or out of character. Nor is it arguable that such behaviour represents years and years of frustration over injustice (even though I know that some people will claim exactly that). Harassing girls is just not cricket. Those shgatzim need to be worked over with a rubber hose and sent back weeping to their mommies.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
THE SMELL OF JOCK
It isn’t what you think, you pervert!
Let me begin by first pointing you to the comments underneath a post on Dovbear’s blog (see here: http://www.haloscan.com/comments/dovbear/3363981839643963800/), and then pointing you towards a lovely photo on e-kvetcher's blog (see here: http://search-for-emes.blogspot.com/2007/07/if-youre-planning-to-run-with-bulls.html).
Now breathe deeply. What do you smell?
------------------------
All of the above serves as preamble - this post is actually about tobacco.
I have a tin of Rattray's Jocks Mixture on my desk. I am airing it out - I had forgotten that I had added some extra moisture to it a while back, and the tobacco has since then turned a tarry speckled brown-black and smells marvelously figgy. I keep reaching over and sticking my nose into the tin - it's like smelling a spice-cake cooling on the rack. Perhaps after drizzling some whiskey down the center. Autumnal and toasty-rich. Pomegranatish.
Like an old-fashioned drogistery with a row of odd herbals. Like a countryside bar-billard in late autumn. Like a grossier's warehouse with crates of tea and boxes of spice.
I am sheerly intoxicated by the aroma.
Jocks Mixture used to be a blend of Latakia and Black Cavendish, full-bodied and spicy, with a wine-like fermented tang. Zesty.
In the day when the mixtures were still made in Charles Rattray's shop in Perth (at 15B High Street), the blends were truly magnificent. Then in the mid-eighties the blending was farmed out to the Danes, who made a complete pigs breakfast of it, followed by the Germans, who are actually fairly decent. Unfortunately by the time the Germans got a hold of the blends, it had become almost impossible to purchase varietal Turkish tobacco, and Syrian Latakia was nearly unavailable (and most blenders had substituted Cyprian Latakia).
So it has not been the same for years.
The Germans do make a good product. But there is something distinctly missing.....
The smell of Jock.
Mmmmmmmmm.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Let me begin by first pointing you to the comments underneath a post on Dovbear’s blog (see here: http://www.haloscan.com/comments/dovbear/3363981839643963800/), and then pointing you towards a lovely photo on e-kvetcher's blog (see here: http://search-for-emes.blogspot.com/2007/07/if-youre-planning-to-run-with-bulls.html).
Now breathe deeply. What do you smell?
------------------------
All of the above serves as preamble - this post is actually about tobacco.
I have a tin of Rattray's Jocks Mixture on my desk. I am airing it out - I had forgotten that I had added some extra moisture to it a while back, and the tobacco has since then turned a tarry speckled brown-black and smells marvelously figgy. I keep reaching over and sticking my nose into the tin - it's like smelling a spice-cake cooling on the rack. Perhaps after drizzling some whiskey down the center. Autumnal and toasty-rich. Pomegranatish.
Like an old-fashioned drogistery with a row of odd herbals. Like a countryside bar-billard in late autumn. Like a grossier's warehouse with crates of tea and boxes of spice.
I am sheerly intoxicated by the aroma.
Jocks Mixture used to be a blend of Latakia and Black Cavendish, full-bodied and spicy, with a wine-like fermented tang. Zesty.
In the day when the mixtures were still made in Charles Rattray's shop in Perth (at 15B High Street), the blends were truly magnificent. Then in the mid-eighties the blending was farmed out to the Danes, who made a complete pigs breakfast of it, followed by the Germans, who are actually fairly decent. Unfortunately by the time the Germans got a hold of the blends, it had become almost impossible to purchase varietal Turkish tobacco, and Syrian Latakia was nearly unavailable (and most blenders had substituted Cyprian Latakia).
So it has not been the same for years.
The Germans do make a good product. But there is something distinctly missing.....
The smell of Jock.
Mmmmmmmmm.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, July 09, 2007
THE CONTRA-ARBUSTIAN CREED
A new religion has been born. Like all religions it has revealed truths, and much is taken on faith. The principles and fundamental beliefs, when questioned, are fiercely defended, and skeptics are vilified and excoriated. Denying the fundaments of this new creed announces that one is a heretic and must be cast-out.
The primary credum absurdum is that Bush is an evil genius who controls everything, and that consequently it is a moral imperative to hate Bush.
Once you believe this, miracles are possible. In fact, once you believe this, a belief in the supernatural is obligatory. Illogic is logic.
Such as the mishegos that Bush ordered the 9/11 attack for a variety of reasons and with an array of interested parties benefiting.
Huge segments of the European public have converted to this religion, and even though most Western European democracies are avowedly secularist, people will relinquish healthy skepticism and rational debate in favour of asserting variations on the primary credum absurdum. All intelligent discussion ceases while statements that defy logic, boggle the mind, and epitomize conspiracy paranoia are gravely accorded validity.
Hatred of Bush means that such accusations reaffirm cherished beliefs, and provide comfort and a sense of superiority. People who believe such things feel that they have a measure of control over the facts, and a superior understanding of life.
France is particularly fertile ground for such nonsense.
A book that claimed that no airliner hit the US Pentagon in the September 11 attacks topped the French bestseller list in 2002. It was subsequently translated into several languages. But it was just one post-9/11 French obscenity. There were others.
More recently, when asked if Bush was behind the 9/11 attacks, the French minister of housing (Christine Boutin) had this to say: "Je pense que c'est possible. Je le pense d'autant plus que je sais que les sites qui parlent de ce problème sont des sites qui ont les plus gros taux de visites. ( - ) Et donc je me dis, moi qui suis très sensibilisée au problème des nouvelles techniques de l'information et de la communication, que cette expression de la masse et du peuple ne peut pas être sans aucune vérité. Donc je ne te dis pas que j'adhère à cette posture, mais disons que je m'interroge quand même un petit peu sur cette question" ('I think that it is possible. I think so especially when I know that the (web) sites that speak of this issue are the sites that have the greatest numbers of visits. ( - ) And so, I tell myself, I who am extremely sensitive to the hazards of new techniques of information and communication, that this point of view of the masses may not be entirely wrong. I'm not saying that I adhere to this position, but let us say, im kol zeh, that I have questions regarding this issue').
Bear in mind that she is not asserting outright that Bush did it. She is stating that it is a distinct possibility, and basing that on the fact that millions of people believe that it is possible and probable......
Millions of people were also convinced that Stalin and Mao were great men who advanced the cause of humanity, and millions positively knew that the Japanese emperor was a god. Millions of people once believed the world to be flat, and millions believe the moon landings were filmed on a Hollywood soundstage.
Millions of believers do not make a falsehood a fact.
Even if they are absolutely upstanding conspiracy-theorists.
Because she is a government minister, her absurd statement, in truncated form, is being used to "prove" that Bush done it - surely an article of faith believed by so prominent a person cannot be wrong.
[Especially as she is not American.]
Irrational Bush-hatred has become a religion.
Who says Europe has given up on faith?
The primary credum absurdum is that Bush is an evil genius who controls everything, and that consequently it is a moral imperative to hate Bush.
Once you believe this, miracles are possible. In fact, once you believe this, a belief in the supernatural is obligatory. Illogic is logic.
Such as the mishegos that Bush ordered the 9/11 attack for a variety of reasons and with an array of interested parties benefiting.
Huge segments of the European public have converted to this religion, and even though most Western European democracies are avowedly secularist, people will relinquish healthy skepticism and rational debate in favour of asserting variations on the primary credum absurdum. All intelligent discussion ceases while statements that defy logic, boggle the mind, and epitomize conspiracy paranoia are gravely accorded validity.
Hatred of Bush means that such accusations reaffirm cherished beliefs, and provide comfort and a sense of superiority. People who believe such things feel that they have a measure of control over the facts, and a superior understanding of life.
France is particularly fertile ground for such nonsense.
A book that claimed that no airliner hit the US Pentagon in the September 11 attacks topped the French bestseller list in 2002. It was subsequently translated into several languages. But it was just one post-9/11 French obscenity. There were others.
More recently, when asked if Bush was behind the 9/11 attacks, the French minister of housing (Christine Boutin) had this to say: "Je pense que c'est possible. Je le pense d'autant plus que je sais que les sites qui parlent de ce problème sont des sites qui ont les plus gros taux de visites. ( - ) Et donc je me dis, moi qui suis très sensibilisée au problème des nouvelles techniques de l'information et de la communication, que cette expression de la masse et du peuple ne peut pas être sans aucune vérité. Donc je ne te dis pas que j'adhère à cette posture, mais disons que je m'interroge quand même un petit peu sur cette question" ('I think that it is possible. I think so especially when I know that the (web) sites that speak of this issue are the sites that have the greatest numbers of visits. ( - ) And so, I tell myself, I who am extremely sensitive to the hazards of new techniques of information and communication, that this point of view of the masses may not be entirely wrong. I'm not saying that I adhere to this position, but let us say, im kol zeh, that I have questions regarding this issue').
Bear in mind that she is not asserting outright that Bush did it. She is stating that it is a distinct possibility, and basing that on the fact that millions of people believe that it is possible and probable......
Millions of people were also convinced that Stalin and Mao were great men who advanced the cause of humanity, and millions positively knew that the Japanese emperor was a god. Millions of people once believed the world to be flat, and millions believe the moon landings were filmed on a Hollywood soundstage.
Millions of believers do not make a falsehood a fact.
Even if they are absolutely upstanding conspiracy-theorists.
Because she is a government minister, her absurd statement, in truncated form, is being used to "prove" that Bush done it - surely an article of faith believed by so prominent a person cannot be wrong.
[Especially as she is not American.]
Irrational Bush-hatred has become a religion.
Who says Europe has given up on faith?
Friday, July 06, 2007
PERHAPS I'VE HAD TOO MUCH COFFEE
Earlier today I lef this comment underneath a posting on a friend's blog:
Turkey Pastrami? Turkey Bacon?
Errk. That's like those weird white-folks tofu compounds. Enough to frighten one away from strange foreign foods entirely.
Extract from a fictional travel book: "The old Jewish quarter in Shinkenfressersburg on the river Knor was named 'Vegetariengasse', after it's main thoroughfare, where the oldest shul, Knesses Ha Tsimchonim, was located. After the rise of chassidus, dissidents in the community built 'Kehal Tivonos', which by the turn of the century ceased to exist due to chronic hunger, and, it is said, a complete lack of oneg shabbes."
The river Knor, as you probably remember, is a branch of the Maggi, which flows into Lake Hotchpots (Hoczpocz Foldvar) just south of Aggida.
---------------------------------------
If this travel book were to really exist, it would probably need to be illustrated by Eduard Blutig or E. G. Deadworry. And published by Black Doll Press (a division of Elephant House) in Yarmouth Port, Massachusetts.
Turkey Pastrami? Turkey Bacon?
Errk. That's like those weird white-folks tofu compounds. Enough to frighten one away from strange foreign foods entirely.
Extract from a fictional travel book: "The old Jewish quarter in Shinkenfressersburg on the river Knor was named 'Vegetariengasse', after it's main thoroughfare, where the oldest shul, Knesses Ha Tsimchonim, was located. After the rise of chassidus, dissidents in the community built 'Kehal Tivonos', which by the turn of the century ceased to exist due to chronic hunger, and, it is said, a complete lack of oneg shabbes."
The river Knor, as you probably remember, is a branch of the Maggi, which flows into Lake Hotchpots (Hoczpocz Foldvar) just south of Aggida.
---------------------------------------
If this travel book were to really exist, it would probably need to be illustrated by Eduard Blutig or E. G. Deadworry. And published by Black Doll Press (a division of Elephant House) in Yarmouth Port, Massachusetts.
PURSUANT CHOLENT
Dovbear posted about a cholent controversy (http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/cholent-controversy.html), which may have already lead to a conversion by the time you read this.
It turns out that someone's distaste for cholent suggested to some of the finest lomdishe minds that the afflicted person might not be, al pi halacha, Jewish.
Needless to say this excited the intellects of Dovbear's readers no end. As of this writing there were two hundred and thirty four comments. Names were being called, verbal fists were flying, and the Mishne Berurah was being cited with reckless abondon.
Again, two hundred and thirty four comments. About cholent. How keenly the kehal looks forward to the Sabbath.
"What", I hear you asking from your seat in the last pew, "is cholent?"
It is oneg.
Per Rabbi Schmeckelstein, part-time correspondent for The Knish, it is also something.
See here: http://www.theknish.com/article18.2.shtm
His description does not entirely clarify, however.
CHOLENT
Genug tshernt for sechs mentshen, oych acht mit a helzel oder voss lechem.
Three quarters of a cup white beans (navy).
Three quarters of a cup red beans (kidney).
Half a cup pearl barley.
One and half pounds brisket or beef shortribs, attacked with a cleaver.
One and a half pounds potatoes, cut into large chunks.
One large onion, or two small - large chunks.
One large tomato, or two small, chopped.
Three to five cloves garlic, chopped.
One and a half TBS paprika.
Two or three bayleaves.
Salt, pepper, sugar, splash of sherry, jigger of Louisiana hotsauce.
Pinches ground cumin, turmeric, and dry ginger.
Olive oil.
Vinegar, to dash if wished.
Six hardboiled eggs, rolled to crack the shells.
[Bonenkruid (Satureiea Hortensis, or Summer Savoury), if you have it in your larder, is an excellent addition - a sprig or goodly pinch added to the pot of beans has a salutary effect. Please note that cumin, turmeric, and ginger aren't normative either. And really, more garlic is also fine.]
Soak beans overnight. Cast out the soaking water, and remove any grit or stones. Place in a large enamel castrol, with enough water to cover by an inch. Heat up the oil in a skillet, gild the onion and garlic, remove to the bean pot. Set the skillet aside for use in another hour or so for the meat. Bring the beans and onion to a boil, turn low, simmer for about three hours.
Salt and pepper the meat, and sprinkle just a pinch of sugar over, to facilitate browning. Put the meat in the skillet, brown a bit, stir in paprika and seethe with sherry before it burns, then transfer this also into the bean pot and scrape in the pan-crunchies after the beans have already simmered for about three hours. Add the pearl barley and everything else, burying the eggs and potatoes in the beans along with a helzele if you wish. Add a dash of vinegar also, and simmer on a backburner for an hour longer. Judge the liquid level and adjust (probably not necessary), then lid the pot and place it on the blech till Saturday afternoon, when you will serve it.
Have some bread on the side - good for mopping the plate. Place the bottle of Louisiana hotsauce in the middle for everyone to help themselves.
You will probably want to have some beano beforehand, and take two ping wei pien tablets afterwards for your stomach's sake. Tshernt is heavy stuff. But, as on shabbes you have an extra (degree of) soul, according to Resh Lakish (the neshomo yeteiro, Beitza 16a), you need extra oneg. Oneg is tshernt.
---------------------------
Note I: Helzel is what you do with a chicken neck. Think of it as a boudin or boiled savoury pudding. Having removed the skin of the chicken's neck by pulling it off like a sock, you rinse it and stuff it with matze meal, spices (paprika, pepper, salt), smous, and some chopped aromatics (onion, carrots, celery). But mostly matze meal and smous (English: shmaltz). Then you carefully tie it at both ends and lay it in the cholent to cook along. But you could also use all the ingredients to make a cholent kugel instead. Which is kind of an odd idea, but what have you.
Note II: The total amount of beans is one and a half cups before soaking. Kidney and navy are standard, but you could also substitute kik-erten (chickpeas) or another kind of gas-fruit for some of the reds and whites. The cooking will be long enough that the flavours will meld, and you want a pleasing appearance. Do not use Lima beans, as they are an abomination.
Note III: Placing the crackled hard-boiled eggs in the pot will give you beid hameen (hwevos haminados) of a sort. Most delicious.
If you're having lechem with your cholent as I suggested, you must say motzi (boruch atta Adonoi Eloheinu, melech ho olom, hamotzi lechem min ho'oretz).
Read all about motzi (http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/artscroll.html) beforehand.
If you're having this during the week, it can be served with white rice. In which case a bottle of Parbo or Red Stripe ("hooray, beer!") would not be amiss.
It turns out that someone's distaste for cholent suggested to some of the finest lomdishe minds that the afflicted person might not be, al pi halacha, Jewish.
Needless to say this excited the intellects of Dovbear's readers no end. As of this writing there were two hundred and thirty four comments. Names were being called, verbal fists were flying, and the Mishne Berurah was being cited with reckless abondon.
Again, two hundred and thirty four comments. About cholent. How keenly the kehal looks forward to the Sabbath.
"What", I hear you asking from your seat in the last pew, "is cholent?"
It is oneg.
Per Rabbi Schmeckelstein, part-time correspondent for The Knish, it is also something.
See here: http://www.theknish.com/article18.2.shtm
His description does not entirely clarify, however.
CHOLENT
Genug tshernt for sechs mentshen, oych acht mit a helzel oder voss lechem.
Three quarters of a cup white beans (navy).
Three quarters of a cup red beans (kidney).
Half a cup pearl barley.
One and half pounds brisket or beef shortribs, attacked with a cleaver.
One and a half pounds potatoes, cut into large chunks.
One large onion, or two small - large chunks.
One large tomato, or two small, chopped.
Three to five cloves garlic, chopped.
One and a half TBS paprika.
Two or three bayleaves.
Salt, pepper, sugar, splash of sherry, jigger of Louisiana hotsauce.
Pinches ground cumin, turmeric, and dry ginger.
Olive oil.
Vinegar, to dash if wished.
Six hardboiled eggs, rolled to crack the shells.
[Bonenkruid (Satureiea Hortensis, or Summer Savoury), if you have it in your larder, is an excellent addition - a sprig or goodly pinch added to the pot of beans has a salutary effect. Please note that cumin, turmeric, and ginger aren't normative either. And really, more garlic is also fine.]
Soak beans overnight. Cast out the soaking water, and remove any grit or stones. Place in a large enamel castrol, with enough water to cover by an inch. Heat up the oil in a skillet, gild the onion and garlic, remove to the bean pot. Set the skillet aside for use in another hour or so for the meat. Bring the beans and onion to a boil, turn low, simmer for about three hours.
Salt and pepper the meat, and sprinkle just a pinch of sugar over, to facilitate browning. Put the meat in the skillet, brown a bit, stir in paprika and seethe with sherry before it burns, then transfer this also into the bean pot and scrape in the pan-crunchies after the beans have already simmered for about three hours. Add the pearl barley and everything else, burying the eggs and potatoes in the beans along with a helzele if you wish. Add a dash of vinegar also, and simmer on a backburner for an hour longer. Judge the liquid level and adjust (probably not necessary), then lid the pot and place it on the blech till Saturday afternoon, when you will serve it.
Have some bread on the side - good for mopping the plate. Place the bottle of Louisiana hotsauce in the middle for everyone to help themselves.
You will probably want to have some beano beforehand, and take two ping wei pien tablets afterwards for your stomach's sake. Tshernt is heavy stuff. But, as on shabbes you have an extra (degree of) soul, according to Resh Lakish (the neshomo yeteiro, Beitza 16a), you need extra oneg. Oneg is tshernt.
---------------------------
Note I: Helzel is what you do with a chicken neck. Think of it as a boudin or boiled savoury pudding. Having removed the skin of the chicken's neck by pulling it off like a sock, you rinse it and stuff it with matze meal, spices (paprika, pepper, salt), smous, and some chopped aromatics (onion, carrots, celery). But mostly matze meal and smous (English: shmaltz). Then you carefully tie it at both ends and lay it in the cholent to cook along. But you could also use all the ingredients to make a cholent kugel instead. Which is kind of an odd idea, but what have you.
Note II: The total amount of beans is one and a half cups before soaking. Kidney and navy are standard, but you could also substitute kik-erten (chickpeas) or another kind of gas-fruit for some of the reds and whites. The cooking will be long enough that the flavours will meld, and you want a pleasing appearance. Do not use Lima beans, as they are an abomination.
Note III: Placing the crackled hard-boiled eggs in the pot will give you beid hameen (hwevos haminados) of a sort. Most delicious.
If you're having lechem with your cholent as I suggested, you must say motzi (boruch atta Adonoi Eloheinu, melech ho olom, hamotzi lechem min ho'oretz).
Read all about motzi (http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2007/07/artscroll.html) beforehand.
If you're having this during the week, it can be served with white rice. In which case a bottle of Parbo or Red Stripe ("hooray, beer!") would not be amiss.
CHAMELEONYMOUS
Chaim G. wrote:
DovBear is not anonymous. He is pseudonymous.
And I, changing my pseudonymous handles with great alacrity and rapidity, am Chameleonymous
Chaim G.
AKA
The Bray of Fundie
Knuckle-Dragging Barbarian
A Monsey Chusid
Beauty is false & comeliness vain
the Charedi Exorcist
Chaim G. the Haloscan Klutz
Godwin's Law Task Force
JewishAlarmist
Mrs. Willy Lohman
neither G-d nor a Lady
Preference by Loreal
Ruth-the Queen Mother
The original ignoramus Chaim G.
There is a wit at work in this. I like it. Stay tuned for further nomens.
DovBear is not anonymous. He is pseudonymous.
And I, changing my pseudonymous handles with great alacrity and rapidity, am Chameleonymous
Chaim G.
AKA
The Bray of Fundie
Knuckle-Dragging Barbarian
A Monsey Chusid
Beauty is false & comeliness vain
the Charedi Exorcist
Chaim G. the Haloscan Klutz
Godwin's Law Task Force
JewishAlarmist
Mrs. Willy Lohman
neither G-d nor a Lady
Preference by Loreal
Ruth-the Queen Mother
The original ignoramus Chaim G.
There is a wit at work in this. I like it. Stay tuned for further nomens.
ANI MAAMIN: E-KVETCHER
E-kvetcher (http://search-for-emes.blogspot.com/) seems possessed of a strange despondence.
He posted this on his blog:
Ani maamin b'amuna sheleimah b'vias ha Mashiach, v'af al pi sheyismameha, im kol zeh achake lo b'chol yom sheyavo
[I believe with complete belief in the coming of the Messiah, and though he may delay, with all this, every day I will wait for him to arrive.]
It is of course a standard rephrasing of one of the principles of faith expounded by the Rambam in the twelfth century. In modern times it recalls what was sung on the way to the gas.
I do not know what is going through his head. He himself says that he cannot well express it. And I do not know what to say. Perhaps you should visit him.
He posted this on his blog:
Ani maamin b'amuna sheleimah b'vias ha Mashiach, v'af al pi sheyismameha, im kol zeh achake lo b'chol yom sheyavo
[I believe with complete belief in the coming of the Messiah, and though he may delay, with all this, every day I will wait for him to arrive.]
It is of course a standard rephrasing of one of the principles of faith expounded by the Rambam in the twelfth century. In modern times it recalls what was sung on the way to the gas.
I do not know what is going through his head. He himself says that he cannot well express it. And I do not know what to say. Perhaps you should visit him.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
I'M A VERITABLE TZADDIK OF GREEN!
It is the height of summer in the Bay Area. You wouldn't know it from the weather in the city, but across the bay, down the peninsula, and even up in Marin they're burning up energy like nobody's business. So we all have to suffer. Even in San Francisco. Where it is twenty degrees cooler, and the fog blows in every afternoon.
I've worn my overcoat every day this year.
Comes now an e-mail from building management:
Hello,
Curtailment will be required this Thursday, July 5 from 2 pm to 7 pm, based
on the Cal I.S.O. load forecast expected to be over 45,000 megawatts. Please try to contribute by conserving energy in your suite.
--- --- ---
Subsequent thereto, from our office manager:
Here are some good ideas for the company to follow on this Thursday and onward....
1. Turn off all lighting not necessary for safety or productivity or where windows provide sufficient light (conference rooms, bathrooms, kitchen, your office....etc..)
2. Turn off office equipment, computers, printers, monitors, and other electrical equipment that does not require your productivity. (Turn off every night as well.)
3. Keep windows closed while HVAC system is running.
4. Turn off desk lamps, floor heaters and fans when you are away from your desk.
5. Take the elevator in groups of five employees or more.
--- --- ---
My own immediate e-mail contribution:
Looking for four other smokers with whom to co-ordinate elevator schedule.
Please advise.
--- --- ---
And that got me thinking......
The most efficient use of the elevator is when the "ambient" energy (meaning gravity) lessens the energy required to operate the machine.
Ergo, I urge all employees to only take the elevator down. Just think of how much energy you'll save by reducing your elevator use by half!
Then the coffee kicked in.....
And I thought about the huge amounts of oxygen created by fields of growing plants. Plants such as tobacco, for instance - a crop which utilizes vast acreages all over the world. Each smoker's beneficial impact on the planet is probably at least double that of a non-smoker, and each new smoker is directly responsible for an exponential increase in the amount of oxygen. Just think of how much oxygen you'll create by taking up smoking!
Having smoked since I was fourteen, you can imagine how freaking virtuous I'm feeling right now.
I'm a veritable tzaddik of green, oh yes.
I think I'll have another smoke now.
As is my saintly wont.
I've worn my overcoat every day this year.
Comes now an e-mail from building management:
Hello,
Curtailment will be required this Thursday, July 5 from 2 pm to 7 pm, based
on the Cal I.S.O. load forecast expected to be over 45,000 megawatts. Please try to contribute by conserving energy in your suite.
--- --- ---
Subsequent thereto, from our office manager:
Here are some good ideas for the company to follow on this Thursday and onward....
1. Turn off all lighting not necessary for safety or productivity or where windows provide sufficient light (conference rooms, bathrooms, kitchen, your office....etc..)
2. Turn off office equipment, computers, printers, monitors, and other electrical equipment that does not require your productivity. (Turn off every night as well.)
3. Keep windows closed while HVAC system is running.
4. Turn off desk lamps, floor heaters and fans when you are away from your desk.
5. Take the elevator in groups of five employees or more.
--- --- ---
My own immediate e-mail contribution:
Looking for four other smokers with whom to co-ordinate elevator schedule.
Please advise.
--- --- ---
And that got me thinking......
The most efficient use of the elevator is when the "ambient" energy (meaning gravity) lessens the energy required to operate the machine.
Ergo, I urge all employees to only take the elevator down. Just think of how much energy you'll save by reducing your elevator use by half!
Then the coffee kicked in.....
And I thought about the huge amounts of oxygen created by fields of growing plants. Plants such as tobacco, for instance - a crop which utilizes vast acreages all over the world. Each smoker's beneficial impact on the planet is probably at least double that of a non-smoker, and each new smoker is directly responsible for an exponential increase in the amount of oxygen. Just think of how much oxygen you'll create by taking up smoking!
Having smoked since I was fourteen, you can imagine how freaking virtuous I'm feeling right now.
I'm a veritable tzaddik of green, oh yes.
I think I'll have another smoke now.
As is my saintly wont.
Monday, July 02, 2007
ONCE MORE, WITH FRAGRANCE
Mood-memories are brought back by smells.
Sometimes a whisp will bring back a long-buried remembrance of times-past with startling clarity. For pipe-smokers this is especially true.
Samuel Gawith's 1792 flake, with it's old-fashioned aromatic component (tonquin oil) revives the memory of a marble hotel lobby somewhere in Switzerland (1970 or 1971). The light slanted in from the windows, but did not reach the chairs and round tables along the opposite side. It is the smell of someone else's pipe - I did not smoke yet then.
This memory is cross-associated with Vladimir Nabokov's book 'King, Queen, Knave'.
Erinmore Flake (a fruity reek of pineapple?) smells of spring days in Valkenswaard, 1975. A park with many trees near the Kleine Ven, and an irregular field with very green green grass and wet wet leaves.
It is a potent and delightfull memory - such a pity that the product itself is virtually unsmokable (I have never finished an entire tin). You can probably figure out why JP Dunleavy's 'The Onion Eaters' in its turn reminds me of that sweetness.
Troost Slices (malty, boozy, caramel) recalls the visit by a dusty old classmate of my parents, and the warm autumn afternoon that we went to Westerhoven for Trappist Beer. The leaves were thick on the village square, the sun shone, and dancing motes irridesced in gaps where brightness fell. I countered the fog of his tobacco with Balkan Sobranie (a product whose flavours were achieved honestly - soft Virginia, resinous Yenidje, and tarry Latakia).
But it is only the fragrance of Troost that works - actually smoking it merely reminds me of a spartan and temporary school-building along the Eindhovensche Canal, and cups of perfectly horrid hot coffee.
[Definitely a winter memory. Why else would I have drunk that slop?]
Sail, Amphora, and several other tobaccos sadly remind me of little more than dreary local grocery stores in Holland, and ferocious tongue-bite; times of mediocrity. These are tastes and smells that do not light up the mind. It boggles me that people still smoke these products.
Degustibus est disputandem.
On the other hand, Theodorus Niemeyer produced some tinned heather-honey blend that, though I would not smoke it again, I would dearly like to open up once more. Sunlight, dust-motes, warmth. The clean-smell of the hallway tiles after a good scrubbing. Morning on the market-square. And the coolness in the courtyard behind the building, still in shade. 1973. Rereading some of Kipling, much of Simenon, and both Ada and Lolita by Nabokov refresh this memory-echo, as do also the nictitating grasses in 'Speak, Memory'.
[But the latter half of Ada, with its depressive decadence, will additionally bring thoughts of Scandinavian flakes. Which in turn leads to much nineteen-fifties science-fiction, and the Larousse Gastronomique.]
Segueing, I now mention a tobacco which I tried recently:
Cornell & Diehl's 'Opening Night'.
Described on the tin as "A delicious blend of the finest Red and Bright Virginias pressed to perfection and sliced into flakes".
A simple enough product, but I've enjoyed it all weekend. There's something about the fragrance that reminds me of my father, when I was two years old, and we still lived in Southern California. He still smelled like that briefly after we had moved to the Netherlands (1962), but that lovely whiff then recurred more and more rarely - the last time I nosed it was in Naarden, in 1964.
Memory association also brings up tea and cinnamon toast, and how a living room in Bussum looked, as well as traces of the texture of certain wooden surfaces, a decorated porcelain plate (I cannot remember the pattern), and the feel of warm butter on my fingers. I think that also may have been when I first noticed a silk lamp-shade glow between orange and saffron or canary yellow - a very intense and laden colour.
[I also associate it marginally with marmalade; perhaps the buttery toast I just mentioned is free-associating, but the porcelain plate suggests otherwise. ]
Further: Drafting triangles on my father's desk, either an engineer's scale or an architect's scale (they still made them out of boxwood in those days), and a proportional divider. Smells of erasers, pencils, ink. In Southern Califonia, and in the Netherlands - I remember, because of the light.
Tonight I will smoke some more of it.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sometimes a whisp will bring back a long-buried remembrance of times-past with startling clarity. For pipe-smokers this is especially true.
Samuel Gawith's 1792 flake, with it's old-fashioned aromatic component (tonquin oil) revives the memory of a marble hotel lobby somewhere in Switzerland (1970 or 1971). The light slanted in from the windows, but did not reach the chairs and round tables along the opposite side. It is the smell of someone else's pipe - I did not smoke yet then.
This memory is cross-associated with Vladimir Nabokov's book 'King, Queen, Knave'.
Erinmore Flake (a fruity reek of pineapple?) smells of spring days in Valkenswaard, 1975. A park with many trees near the Kleine Ven, and an irregular field with very green green grass and wet wet leaves.
It is a potent and delightfull memory - such a pity that the product itself is virtually unsmokable (I have never finished an entire tin). You can probably figure out why JP Dunleavy's 'The Onion Eaters' in its turn reminds me of that sweetness.
Troost Slices (malty, boozy, caramel) recalls the visit by a dusty old classmate of my parents, and the warm autumn afternoon that we went to Westerhoven for Trappist Beer. The leaves were thick on the village square, the sun shone, and dancing motes irridesced in gaps where brightness fell. I countered the fog of his tobacco with Balkan Sobranie (a product whose flavours were achieved honestly - soft Virginia, resinous Yenidje, and tarry Latakia).
But it is only the fragrance of Troost that works - actually smoking it merely reminds me of a spartan and temporary school-building along the Eindhovensche Canal, and cups of perfectly horrid hot coffee.
[Definitely a winter memory. Why else would I have drunk that slop?]
Sail, Amphora, and several other tobaccos sadly remind me of little more than dreary local grocery stores in Holland, and ferocious tongue-bite; times of mediocrity. These are tastes and smells that do not light up the mind. It boggles me that people still smoke these products.
Degustibus est disputandem.
On the other hand, Theodorus Niemeyer produced some tinned heather-honey blend that, though I would not smoke it again, I would dearly like to open up once more. Sunlight, dust-motes, warmth. The clean-smell of the hallway tiles after a good scrubbing. Morning on the market-square. And the coolness in the courtyard behind the building, still in shade. 1973. Rereading some of Kipling, much of Simenon, and both Ada and Lolita by Nabokov refresh this memory-echo, as do also the nictitating grasses in 'Speak, Memory'.
[But the latter half of Ada, with its depressive decadence, will additionally bring thoughts of Scandinavian flakes. Which in turn leads to much nineteen-fifties science-fiction, and the Larousse Gastronomique.]
Segueing, I now mention a tobacco which I tried recently:
Cornell & Diehl's 'Opening Night'.
Described on the tin as "A delicious blend of the finest Red and Bright Virginias pressed to perfection and sliced into flakes".
A simple enough product, but I've enjoyed it all weekend. There's something about the fragrance that reminds me of my father, when I was two years old, and we still lived in Southern California. He still smelled like that briefly after we had moved to the Netherlands (1962), but that lovely whiff then recurred more and more rarely - the last time I nosed it was in Naarden, in 1964.
Memory association also brings up tea and cinnamon toast, and how a living room in Bussum looked, as well as traces of the texture of certain wooden surfaces, a decorated porcelain plate (I cannot remember the pattern), and the feel of warm butter on my fingers. I think that also may have been when I first noticed a silk lamp-shade glow between orange and saffron or canary yellow - a very intense and laden colour.
[I also associate it marginally with marmalade; perhaps the buttery toast I just mentioned is free-associating, but the porcelain plate suggests otherwise. ]
Further: Drafting triangles on my father's desk, either an engineer's scale or an architect's scale (they still made them out of boxwood in those days), and a proportional divider. Smells of erasers, pencils, ink. In Southern Califonia, and in the Netherlands - I remember, because of the light.
Tonight I will smoke some more of it.
TOBACCO INDEX
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
GRITS AND TOFU
Like most Americans, I have a list of people who should be peacefully retired from public service and thereafter kept away from their desks,...
