December 09, 2004

Holiday Cards: A trip down memory lane

I just returned from mailing off our holiday cards, all 93 of them. It took us a long two nights to write messages to everyone, stuff, seal, and stamp. It was a companionable time, though, and I kind of enjoyed just sitting at the kitchen table with my wife and listening to her gentle (sometimes, not so gentle) profanity as she tore an envelope here or put the wrong card in the wrong envelope there.

Otherwise, I was a bit alone with my thoughts as we scribbled away. It was fun to realize that on these sheets of labels, I had a sort of chronological roadmap to my life.

The oldest friend rang in at 35 years, which is a long time but especially when you consider we are each only 37. That is a friendship I take great pleasure in.

After that, people sort of popped up onto the list from the Summer I spent in China, some 20 years ago, and friends I made in France, some almost 15 years ago, and friends I made in England, over 10 years ago when I lived and worked there.

Business acquaintances made it on the list, but only because I liked them, not because I needed to send them a card. In other words, they became friends through business but are not on the list because I do business with them.

Friends from University and from Law School are there. Friends from New Orleans are there. Former neighbors from our old co-op in the City are on the list. I used to be the Vice President of that Board and still have lots of friends there.

Family, all over the world, are on the list, for sure. My wife got to write any of the Norwegian cards herself.

Friends I've made through volunteer work and through various other outside activities made their way onto the list.

All in all, a most satisfactory tour of my past and my present.

Until we consider the deletions. Judaism teaches that the sweet is always mixed with the sour. I suppose that makes sense, there is very little joy that is unalloyed in the world and you might not even be able to fully appreciate the nuances of the happiness without a sprinkling of the sad.

Some were deleted from our list because cards don't get sent to the deceased. They don't have a mantle for them anymore, anyway. The old in our family are dying and the new generation is beginning to fill in for them as the generational odometer ticks over.

Some fell off the list because of desuetude. The friendships withered as people lost the habit of staying in touch. Actually, one card went to just such a person in the hope that it might rekindle the friendship. If not, oh, well, we have enough friends who we don't get to see as it is.

It was a good trip, this little trip of ours down memory lane. The only real snag was running out of cards!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:54 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 520 words, total size 3 kb.

December 06, 2004

All is Silent from Miami

Since I involved you all in my job interview, I thought I'd let you know the news. There is no news. Well, besides Generalissimo Francisco Franco still being dead (the early SNLs were really the best, weren't they?). I have heard nothing from Miami. My wife thinks I should give them a ring to see what's going on. My view is more of a having heard nothing, I assume I did not get the job, view. Why bother confirming past that? I think I will just let it lie, for now.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:04 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
Post contains 101 words, total size 1 kb.

Improbable Name of the Day

I was reading the obituaries in the Daily Telegraph this morning, specifically the obituary of HRH Prince Bernhard of the Netherlands (who, by the way, led a fascinating life), consort to Queen Juliana, when I came upon the name of the young woman with whom it was alleged he may have been unfaithful at some point. The obituary describes it much more discreetly as a "close friendship".

In any event, his close friend was "a young Frenchwoman, the improbably named Poussy Grinda".

I'm really not mature enough to take this seriously. Besides, don't you all hear the James Bond movie theme song now?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:37 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 113 words, total size 1 kb.

Ribbons, ribbons, everywhere

I was doing a bit of driving this weekend and I noticed, on the car in front of me, a yellow magnetic ribbon and a pink magnetic ribbon. The yellow ribbon was clearly in support of our troops. The pink ribbon, identical in appearance to the yellow ribbon, made me think that the driver of the car also wanted to make clear his or her support for our troops serving in the "don't ask, don't tell" program.

Later, of course, I realized it was a breast cancer ribbon. But it took awhile!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:16 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 98 words, total size 1 kb.

What do you say?

What do you say to a woman whose husband just died? I pondered that question as I drove about 100 miles on Sunday morning to attend the memorial service for my cousin's husband. I love my cousin, I never much liked her husband but I assume that was really my fault and not his. So I knew that I was going for her and not for him. What do you say? I never really know. Everything seems so inadequate. I settled, finally, on, "I'm sorry". That was all. Just that I was sorry. What else is there to say, really?

The service was interesting. It was conducted by a Minister from a hospice organization that helped him die at home. She was very nice but she said that she did not really know how to conduct the service since Sam told her that she could not mention God at all. She said that this was a first for her. But she spoke movingly of Sam and how she got to know him as he died. That sort of freaked me out, just a little, that Sam was discussing his own death and the memorial service he wanted, that he was, how do I put it, . . . He was more or less alone with the absolute realization that he was planning a party he would not be attending, that whatever else happened, he was alone, all alone at the end. This must come to us all, of course, in one way or another. But I was really struck by the manner in which he died, that he had time to contemplate as something other than a philosophical concept, his own demise. In any event, Sam's brother in law got up at the end and read from the Psalms ("The Lord is my Shepard, etc.) and recited the Mourner's Kaddish. The Minister closed the service by saying, "I was surprised to hear that Sam requested that. So, he tricked me. Good for him! I'm glad".

His last little joke. I'm glad, too.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:13 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 350 words, total size 2 kb.

A Numbers Game

This weekend, the sitemeter odometer ticked over to the 10,000 mark. That's ten thousand visitors since I moved here from blogspot. Is this a world beater number? Nope. But it still seems highly significant to me. When I started this blog, I did so because I just felt like I had some things to say and I wanted a forum in which to do it. And now just over 10,000 people have stopped by to read. In the process, I have made some new friends and been included in a community of pretty wonderful bloggers. In fact, if you are not aware of Mu.Nu., graciously hosted by Pixy, go click on the sidebar labeled "Munuvians" to browse through the list of the denizens of MuNu.

I'm still not really sure what my blog is, though. I don't think it fits neatly into a simple category but that's not a bad thing. Feel free to chime in if you have mentally slotted my blog into a category. I'd be very curious to hear where you've put it since I have no idea myself.

Anyway, thanks for coming and reading. For those of you who have left comments (I heart comments), thanks doubly!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:43 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 207 words, total size 1 kb.

December 03, 2004

British Education Marches Proudly into the Past

What other title could you put on a post highlighting the fact that one University in Britain has axed the physics department and another the chemistry department? Watch, as the Brits march proudly into the past since they will not be equiping their students to march into the future.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:38 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 63 words, total size 1 kb.

December 02, 2004

Silly link of the day

Without further explanation, I give you the Farting Nun Organ.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:32 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 20 words, total size 1 kb.

The End of Corporate Democracy?

Corporate democracy is an interesting concept. Briefly, it means that if you own an interest, a share, of a corporation, you are entitled to vote on matters which are required to be put for a vote before the shareholders. What matters? Well, elections of directors, corporate and shareholder resolutions, mergers and acquisitions, and certain kinds of asset sales. This right to vote is a fundamental aspect of corporate and share ownership. It may not apply to all classes of stock, of course.

The system is premised on the following concept: those with an economic interest should be permitted a voice in proportion to that economic interest. One share, one vote, in other words. This system has worked pretty well up to now and courts take very seriously issues of shareholder disenfranchisement, freeze out, and other maneuvers by which shareholders are pushed out of their rights to vote.

The system, however, has just been totally gamed. It may not be a bad thing, but it is certainly very interesting.

The NY Times reported this morning on a technique used by the "owner" of 10% of a corporation's outstanding and issued shares in regard to a merger vote. Why is owner in quotes? Simple. The owner of the shares simultaneously bought them while another party, a counterparty (I think), sold the shares short. Result? He owns the shares with absolutely no economic interest or risk. In other words, he has the voting rights but no exposure to the fluctuation of the share price in the market place. Shareholder rights activists are up in arms over this. I, too, was initially quite disturbed by it. But the article, at the absolute very end, quotes a law professor who points out that shareholders in a large public company have no fiduciary duty to each other. I forgot that as I got caught up in the drama of the article. This is important. Shareholders voting on a merger are under no compulsion to vote anything other than what is in their best interests, not the best interests of their fellow shareholders. To require otherwise would be unwieldy at best and at worst would require a level of care in a relationship of co-shareholders that is absolutely unwarranted.

This is an interesting issue, I think. Gaming the corporate democracy system by holding voting shares with no economic exposure. It raises the question of why you would want to do it at all if you don't stand to gain by any price movement in the shares you "own". The article in the Times did not address this question. But suppose the "owner" really did own shares in the other company in the merger. . . Maybe that's where the play is. Very clever, if so.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:58 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 468 words, total size 3 kb.

December 01, 2004

Future of Welsh Hip-hop

Go check out GLC (goldie lookin chain) to catch their new single, Your Mother's got a Penis, and ponder, if you dare, the future of Welch Hip-hop.

Come on, you know you want to.

UPDATE:

If you are visiting, I have another post on Welsh Hip Hop here. Also, congratulations (link to my small tribute post) to the nation of Wales on the outstanding Six Nations Rugby Grand Slam!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:53 PM | Comments (162) | Add Comment
Post contains 77 words, total size 1 kb.

November 29, 2004

Splain me the Eco-System, will ya?

How does the Eco-System work? Anybody know? My eco-system ranking bounces all over the place. It reached the dizzying heights the other day of 106 links only to drop, for no apparent reason, to 60 links, in one swell foop. How does it work? How does it calculate links and so on?

I'm tempted to pull it off my blog entirely.

Any thoughts?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:51 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 75 words, total size 1 kb.

November 27, 2004

Songs of Yore, when sex only cost $50

Riding in the car tonight, listening to some lame radio station do a less lame holiday weekend music countdown of the top 100 or maybe even 500 best dance songs, when I was confronted by the music of Tone Loc. Remember him? Who can forget the immortal words of Funky, Cold Medina? I mean, besides me. They played Wild Thing. I quote the relevant bits:

Doin' a little show at the local discotheque

This fine youg chick was on my jack so I say what the heck

She want to come on stage and do her little dance

So I said chill for now but maybe later you'll get your chance

So when the show was finished I took her around the way

And what do you know she was good to go without a word to say

We was all alone and she said "Tone let me tell you one thing
I need $50 to make you holler I get paid to do the wild thing"

Say what
Yo love you must be kidding
You're walkin' babe
Just break out of here
Hasta la vista baby

I'm glad Tone took the higher moral road here. Besides, who knows what you could catch from some skanky ho charging $50 to do the wild thing.

I wonder, idly, what ever happened to Tone? Or Young MC, for that matter, who collaborated with Tone. Young MC, you may recall, had the Econ degree from USC and gave us Bust a Move. I loved that one. Or, Off to the Principal's Office I go. I can quote that one from memory ("a nurses late pass like a gun on my hip. . ."). This was before rap got kind of ugly and there was no place left anymore for Young or Tone.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:01 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 315 words, total size 2 kb.

November 26, 2004

Just lost a huge post -- click here for replacement post

I just lost a huge post that took me over 45 minutes to write. I am way too frustrated to recommence.

So, something different.

The Bronx Zoo was great fun. It was seriously empty. We were among the only ones in the parking lot when we arrived. We saw the bird house, the monkey house, the Congo exhibit, Tiger Mountain (damn, that was exceptionally cool), and the sea lions. The Boy Child had, I think, a very good time. Although he kept trying to ditch his mittens when he thought I wasn't looking. And he needed them, since it did not get above 44 degrees in the sun while we were there. The tigers were really the coolest. We were able to get right up to the glass in the stroller and this 8 foot tiger, he was enormous, came right up to the glass to examine my son. They just stared at each other for awhile until the tiger decided, I guess, that he would not be able to eat the boy. The boy seemed to be rendered speechless by this enormous tiger head a scant couple of inches away from his own. I don't blame him. I was a bit speechless myself.

Coming back from the zoo, we stopped off in Scarsdale to visit Zachy's, a well known wine store in the region. With the wife away, I decided to treat myself to a bottle of 18 year old Scotch whisky on the grounds that either I will get the job in Miami and will want to celebrate or I won't and I deserve some consolation. Poor reasoning, really, but what the hell. I am almost out and that is not acceptable. We do not live in Scarsdale and I'm glad. Why? How often do you see an Aston Martin parked outside the supermarket? Not very, I bet. Scarsdale sees them all the time. I turned from examining that to see the Mercedes G55, you know, the really ugly super expensive truck. It was being driven, and I use that word loosely, by a woman who held a cell phone to her ear with one hand (illegal in NY, by the way) and a half eaten apple in the other hand. I thought, wow, it is true. The rich really are different. They can drive with no hands.

May I speak about the boy child for a moment? Oh. My. God. What a beautiful little creature he is. He is like pure sunshine. Nary a cry or a whine the whole day. Laughter more often than any other noise. He pulls my head to his chest to cuddle me and makes these happy little cooing sounds. I can't wait for him to get up from his nap to go play, again. We are going out to dinner tonight with my parents and I am a little sorry it won't be just the two of us, but how can I keep such joy to myself? He needs to be shared a little bit, I think.

After he goes to bed tonight, it will be more Whisky (one glass) and a Bruce Lee film I have not seen in many years.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, I think we are going to head off to NY City and go visit the Museum of Natural History. I think he'll like the train in. There is a live butterfly exhibit and I hope he will find that compelling. If not, the City is a big place and we will find plenty to do, I bet.

Maybe, tomorrow morning, before he wakes, I will try to recreate my post on Pensions, Demographics and Immigration. A serious topic and I am plenty steamed that it just went POOF.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:29 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 644 words, total size 3 kb.

Thanksgiving: Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

Everybody was kung-fu fighting

Those cats were fast as lightning

In fact it was a little bit frightning

But they fought with expert timing

Ok, that was afterwards. After we had a very nice visit with my parents, and ate a bit too much, and watched the kids run around, and had pleasant conversation, and bid goodbye to the wife and Girl Child as they left to go to Norway. Then the Boy Child, two semi-eligible bachelors if there ever were any, came home for a little dinner for him, a bath, and then he was asleep before I was down the stairs. No nap for him, you see. In fact, as I was holding him to give him a good night kiss (one kiss was happily accepted), he then tried to throw himself from my arms into his crib. For 21 months, that is tired.

Then came the kung fu fighting! It was a totally selfish way to spend an evening. Pretty much perfect. I lit a fire and turned off the lights in the living room. I poured a glass of MacCallan 12 year old Scotch Whisky with a little bit of water and settled in to watch Crouching Tiger / Hidden Dragon which I had never seen before.

First, a question: why is bad to drink alone, again? I know that I must have known the reason for this at some point, but I can't seem to recall. I don't think I've ever gotten drunk alone. But a drink by myself? Wonderful and self indulgent and probably no worse than having a soda. No, a good glass of Whisky takes a rather long time to drink (at least, it takes me a long time) and is a nice experience on a number of levels. I like the idea of it, first of all. There is just something intangible about the idea of having a Whisky -- some combination of romantic notions I can't possibly distill here. I like the taste. I like the physical warming as it slides down. And having one by my lonesome is second best (sometimes better) than having one with a friend over an interesting conversation. No, I think that there should be more drinking alone, not less!

Anyway, the film was not quite as great as I had hoped it would be. I have a weakness for the Kung Fu classics. I used to go down to Chinatown to the all-day kung fu movie theater and spend an afternoon watching them. I don't know if that theater is still there, but it was a fun way to kill an afternoon. I think my favorite actor right now is Jet Li. I love his movies and his martial arts are first rate. My favorite was Fists of Legend. It has the best fight scenes I've ever seen and great production values. Tiger / Dragon was no Fists of Legend. It had some decent fight scenes but seemed to think that dramatic cut aways and lots of flying around was a good substitute for a well crafted fight. It ain't.

Anyway, must dash as the Boy Child is stirring after his short 12.5 hours of sleep and I have diapers to change, breakfast to fix, and a trip to the Bronx Zoo to plan.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:09 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 562 words, total size 3 kb.

November 24, 2004

Service Providers and Flash

Simon had an amusing post today about a visit to a pet behaviourist who recommended drugging dogs. Simon laughed alone in the room. I'd have joined him in laughing. But that's not why I reference his post. No, it was the description of the vet that got to me. Simon describes him as "an Armani-suited, Cartier-glasses, Rolex watch wearing man".

That description got me to thinking about service providers. Broadly, people you pay to preform services as opposed to providing you with goods. By way of example, I mean lawyers, doctors, plumbers, dentists, and accountants. Vets, too, I suppose. I am a service provider as a lawyer. As a service provider, the last thing I want to do is to dress as if my client is paying me too much. This would make any client suspicious about the fees. Why is this guy so flashy with my money? That is not to say that you should not dress successfully, because you should. If you look like a loser, you will also turn clients off. No, the watchword here is: Discrete.

Be discrete in your appearance if you are a service provider. I am a timepiece slut. I love watches and I like to dress well. I do not wear Armani, however, or any other brand that is going to be instantly recognizable. I do not own a Rolex nor a Cartier. Nor would I wear a watch that would be instantly known to my client. In fact, I wear an IWC. Bet you haven't heard of them, have you? IWC is a very fine Swiss watch maker and this watch is a thing of beauty. But a client isn't going to look at it and say, that's where my fees are going? Nope. I think it is not a good business decision to force a client to think like that.

In fact, I'll give you an example. Shortly after we moved into our new house, my wife arranged for someone to come by with cases of fabric to give us an estimate on drapes/curtains. For some reason, these things cost more than their equivalent weight in diamonds. After the affable Rolex-wearing salesman made his pitch, he told us, in an effort to pressure us to commit, that he was so busy that he had to buy that Cadillac parked outside our house because he was spending so much time in the car and what did we think of that. I looked at the car and his watch and said, "I think it tells me that you are charging me too much for these curtains". And that was that.

Finally, I would consider it poor judgment to hire someone who thought it showed good judgment to overpay for a Rolex. If it were a Patek, on the other hand. . .

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:01 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 478 words, total size 3 kb.

November 23, 2004

Thanksgiving Day Travel Advice

I watched, on my trip back from Ft. Lauderdale last night, Best of Show. There was advice given in that film which ought to apply to anyone driving for Thanksgiving and I reproduce it for you all here:

If you get tired, pull over.

If you get hungry, eat something.

I loved that. Just try to remember that, y'all, as you are driving to Mom's for Thanksgiving.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 12:32 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 75 words, total size 1 kb.

Back from the Interview

Before you ask, I have no idea how it went. I was asked, at the conclusion, how much time I'd need before I could start if they made me an offer. I read nothing into that anymore. I simply told them, in response, that I would be on the next plane down the day after it was professionally prudent for me to have wrapped up everything at my firm and not leave anyone hanging. I also told them I really wanted this job and if offered it would take it.

Thank you all very much for your comments wishing me luck. I really appreciated them all!

By the way, did I mention that the job would mean we'd have to move to Miami?

Let me share with you some random observations I made during the one day trip down and back:

*Church Signs on I-95

I saw an excellent church sign off of I-95. It read as follows:

churchsign2.jpg

Sign courtesy of Church Sign Generator, one of my favorite sites, by the way.

All that was missing from the sign was something like, "limited appearance only", or, "half price off for sinners special on Fridays ", or, "catch him next week at the Aventura Mall". In any event, I was tickled.

*Airport Check in:

I was asked by the very nice woman at Jet Blue, to check and see if I was carrying any of the items on her list in my briefcase. I read it carefully and confirmed that I was not carrying in my briefcase, inter alia, any guns, ammunition, 4 lbs of dry ice, or an electric wheel chair and I requested clarification as to what a "wet cell" battery was. She didn't know either but she giggled, which was sweet. I am kind of a flirt, I have to admit.

*Jet Blue directv thing is cool.

VH1Classics allowed me to reacquaint myself with such talented bands as Animotion and Berlin ("The Metro", great 80's pop angst with heavy keyboard use). The music of my youth is now on VH1Classics. Classics. Sheesh. No further comment. Although, here are the lyrics to "The Metro":

I'm alone
sitting with my empty glass
my four walls
follow me through my past
I was on a Paris train
I emerged in London rain
and you were waiting there
swimming through apologies

I remember searching for the perfect words
I was hoping you might change your mind
I remember a soldier sleeping next to me
riding on the Metro

You wore white
smiling as you took my hand
so removed
we spoke of wintertime in France
minutes passed with shallow words
years have passed and still the hurt
I can see you now
smiling as I pulled away

I remember the letter wrinkled in my hand
"I'll love you always" filled my eyes
I remember a night we walked along the Seine
riding on the Metro

I remember a feeling coming over me
the soldier turned, then looked away
I remember hating you for loving me
riding on the Metro

I'm alone
sitting with my BROKEN glass
my four walls
follow me through my past
I was on a Paris train
I emerged in London rain
and you were waiting there
swimming through apologies(sorry)

I remember searching for the perfect words
I was hoping you might change your mind
I remember a soldier sleeping next to me
riding on the Metro

*Taxi to/from Miami from Ft. Lauderdale airport cost $150 dollars.
Cost of JetBlue ticket back to NY: $148.

How is this possible, that it costs more to fly down the Eastern Seaboard than it does to take a taxi to/from some 30 miles each way? How can JetBlue stay in business? Or is it that the taxis are charging too much?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 12:17 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 637 words, total size 4 kb.

November 21, 2004

Expect a quiet Monday here

I will be out of the office tomorrow with no access to computers and no chance to blog (I expect). While I'm gone, I recommend browsing through my set of links under "Daily (practically) Reads". There are some first rate writers represented there.

Psst, don't tell anyone, but I am off for a job interview. Keep your fingers crossed and wish me whatever you are inclined to wish me. I am, truth be told, a bit nervous. Perhaps not nervous, just scared about being disappointed if I don't get the offer. That may be it, really. Of course, I am also apprehensive about the consequences of getting an offer, but that's another story. The only way I know how to deal with that kind of nervousness is through preparation. I think I am prepared. I have probably spent over 15 hours preparing for it. I have reviewed my resume, the summary I have made of every interesting case I have ever worked on, re-read my writing samples, re-read the published opinions judges have rendered in cases in which I am counsel of record, read everything I could find on the internet about the organization and the person I will be meeting with, and am close to ready. I have my best suit back from the cleaners and my shoes are shined. Now, just fingers crossed, deep breath, and into the breach.

See you all on Tuesday.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:19 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 246 words, total size 1 kb.

Ode to the Greasy Spoon

I love greasy spoons, road side restaurants, barbeque shacks, cafes, diners, and all manner of holes in the wall. My wife parts company with me on this but, as in so many things, is still willing to indulge me from time to time. She's nice like that.

I like being able to see my breakfast being cooked before me, the bottomless cup of coffee, the home made (sometimes) pies, the french fries with gravy, and the milk shakes often made with great care, or at least, carefully enough that no cigarette ash falls in. Good enough for me, certainly. I like that you can get breakfast anytime you want and that you can almost always find meatloaf and lumpy mashed potatoes. I like the way these places smell, generally but not always. I like that they are usually owner operated and often with more than a little pride. I do not, however, feel the need to go out and start one of my own, though.

However, were I rich, I mean filthy hedge fund rich, I would go here and buy one to have moved to my country property (I don't have one of those either, of course, but that is a mere detail in this little fantasy) to join the other buildings (there will be other buildings, certainly). Then, like Marie Antoinette, I could play at having a diner. I think that would be great fun.

Or, if I were Google IPO rich, I could buy a totally new one for $150,000. Comes fully equiped. That could be nice.

I also like diner slang. Here, from the same place where you can go buy your very own diner, is a lexicon of diner slang so you can talk the talk. I extract some of my favorites:

whiskey down: Rye toast, the 'down' part probably comes from the action of pushing down the handle on the toaster

Shingle with a shimmy and a shake: Buttered toast with jam or jelly, hence the reference to 'shake'.

Wreck ‘em: Scrambled eggs

Fry two, let the sun shine: 2 fried eggs with unbroken yolks

Flop two: Two fried eggs over easy

Customer will take a chance: Hash

Sweep the kitchen or
Sweepings, or
Clean up the kitchen
: A plate of hash

Mystery in the alley: A side order of hash

Chewed with Fine Breath: Hamburger with onions

Two cows, make them cry: Two hamburgers with onions

Burn one; take it through the garden and pin a rose on it: Hamburger with lettuce, tomato and onion

When I strike it rich one day (don't hold your breath, ok?), you are all invited over to my little Trianon fake-diner for ice cream sodas and "GAC"s (grilled cheese sandwiches)!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:09 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 463 words, total size 3 kb.

Some Fascinating Passings: R.I.P.

As you may know, I make a point of reading the obituaries at the Telegraph on line. English obituary writing is superb. They are mini-biographies, generally written about people I've never heard of before. Oftentimes, you read about people who did terribly important things during WW II. That generation is passing, you know. Here are two people, in extended entry below, who I thought were fascinating.

Click below for more. more...

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:43 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 1901 words, total size 11 kb.

<< Page 17 of 22 >>
166kb generated in CPU 0.0894, elapsed 0.155 seconds.
75 queries taking 0.1243 seconds, 423 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.