Better Be Good To Me

How about that human genome, eh? What a t'riffic little jobby that bad boy is, explaining everything from hammer toes to serial killer tendencies, plus the really important stuff like male pattern baldness.

My genetic predisposition is like a bad Vuitton knock-off - somewhere in the past lies a quality original. Unfortunately, for successive generations the leather provenance has been on a downward slide, and the stitching...well, let's just say you wouldn't fool anyone at your local pub.

But there is hope. The flip side of the genetic blackjack game is the environmental input we all receive. I like to think of this as the role model side of life, because that's how junior learns how to behave. Parents form the front line, with (in my day, anyway) television as a backstop. You'd be surprised at the extent of Gilligan's Island's influence in my own life. (I'm Team Mary Ann BTW. Ginger was way too high maintenance. Who takes ball gowns to a tropical island?)

If I had to plant a flag in this argument, I'd say that environment - the influence of role models - is more important than genetics. Young'uns start learning and mimicking right from day one. Seems to me that there's almost zero inherited ability in the higher social skills area; finding a decent mate, for instance. Discerning what kind of behaviour divides the good people from the bad, for another, is all observed knowledge.

I'm pretty sure this is why we all have to learn the mating lessons from scratch every time. Our biology is amazing, but not coded for understanding the difference between a Coach bag and a grocery bag.




Bottoms Up, Quality Mavens.

Friday Fluffer - Sporting Douchebags.

Integrity is considered an old-fashioned word in today's "progressive" culture. Finding the easy way out, lying, taking the money, choosing personal satisfaction over doing the right thing; these are the pathways to a thoroughly modern style of unapologetic fame-fueled douchebaggery.

There are plenty of bloodless narcissistic zombie heroes to go around. Today's is Lance Armstrong. No-one gives a shit about him, but I think of his children, and all the children who look up to all the celebrity zeroes who take what they can. The example set by famous people, in the way they treat their children, wives and husbands, affects us all, because famous people are the culture. Armstrong made you and me part of something smaller. What I cannot understand is how he can look into his kids' eyes. Does he not see a monster reflected?

And so we return to the pile of putrid dog vomit that is the Tiger Woods tale. The Mail Online has this story, claiming that Tiger and his ex-wife Elin are on the verge of reconciliation. She'll have him back in exchange for a $350 million no-cheating clause.

Yeah. There you go. The bedrock of any good home for a young family is created from a cash-backed good-behaviour bond. Not, say, from refraining from boffing any groupie who wandered along, instead spending the time in his hotel suite writing stories for his children, or otherwise doing something worthwhile. No, because now he's different, and has the collateral to prove it.



Bottoms Up, Culture Warriors.

Dames I Adore - Kate Gosselin

Kate's uterus is, I am reliably informed, now in the Uterus Hall of Fame. We men are intellectually aware of how one woman can have a litter of kids...and yet she remains the material of significantly awful nightmares. I have this vision of a never-ending expulsion of babies from between her legs.

However: Childbirth is but a tiny fraction of womanly skills, so let's not dwell. Even if I occasionally wake to the vision of Kate's vagina issuing new-borns like a barn-cat, that will not prevent me from seeing her for the woman she is and not a life-support system for that over-stretched cervix. Begone, obsession!

Kate is unfortunately defined by all the stuff we see surrounding her. Her ex-husband, for one, shouldn't be held against her. Neither should the decision to adopt a television network as her ninth child. And neither should the three plastic surgeons, the six agents, the fifteen hair stylists nor the fashion consultant on retainer influence us in our opinion.

Kate's a regular suburban girl who got lucky with fertility drugs. It's the same story the world over, as Angelina Jolie will tell you. Err, actually, that's not true, because Angelina's a nutburger and adopted....how many of those kids?

Anyway, Kate's attraction to me is all about her accessibility. She's the girl-next-door with whom we played pong-knuckle in tenth grade; she's got that sturdy fetlock look that regular guys recognize as valuable when pushing the mower; and darling Kate loves her false titties as much as any frottage aficionado.

Kate might be a bossy ball-buster, but there's so much more to adore. If you're reading this Kate, how about a make-out session and a little game of stink finger? You know you want it.



Bottoms Up, Octomoms!



Kate at her best from England's second-best newspaper [link]

Concubine

The word might not have been courtesan after all. Is is possible I was looking for 'concubine'?

Nope, I read the all-knowing Wiki (pedia) only to discover that concubines are like wives, only poorer. [link] Interesting that concubines are actually held in very high esteem, on the same social and religious level with wives. Wives, you see, had dowries whereas concubines did not. So marriage (at least in its Biblical iteration) was not about love, but something else.

This is interesting too:

Since it was regarded as the highest blessing to have many children, while the greatest curse was childlessness, legitimate wives often gave their maids to their husbands to atone, at least in part, for their own barrenness... The children of the concubine had equal rights with those of the legitimate wife...

Barrenness. Now there's a word we don't use much any more.

The painting above is called "Interior Scene with Sultan and Concubine" by an American named Thomas Buchanan Read. [link] How in the heck did a guy from Chester County, Pennsylvania end up painting such a piece? [link] And why does it move me so?

Mysteries.

The Jersey Shore: Mandolettes and Mandelbrot

Like many people, we're taking an end of summer trip. This time of year makes us appreciate those things that fill us with joy. Spending time with friends and family, having leisurely meals, taking long walks on the beach, and, special to this summer, watching the Olympics and following the political campaigns.

More than usual, the fall will bring big changes to our household because our son, Michael, is preparing to leave for his freshman year at college. So it was important to find time to take a trip to New Jersey to visit with Michelle's parents.

With few exceptions, Michelle's extended family has stayed on the East Coast. A few years ago they had a family reunion at a nearby resort and 75 aunts, uncles, and cousins came for the weekend. Sunday at Helen and Warren's means brunch for 20, setting up a table in the living room, bringing out the folding chairs, and sharing platters of bagels, lox, coffee cake, cold cuts, cheese, egg salad, tuna salad, fresh fruit, and lots of Helen's special iced coffee.

This trip Helen and Warren taught Michael how to play bridge because bridge is one of the intramural activities at UC Davis and Michelle's parents are bridge mavens. We ate lobsters, a rare treat, because StopRite, the local mega-supermarket had them on sale for $5.99/pound. And Helen made us mandolettes and mandelbrot from a family recipe.

During the year we're the happy recipients of Helen's cookies, but this time we enjoyed being in the kitchen while she made them for us. Luckily there were enough left over so we could take some with us, although not many survived the plane trip home. They are so delicious.

Mandolettes

Yield: about 2 dozen
Time: 30 minutes

Ingredients:

2 eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup flour
Grated rind of 1/2 lemon
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cup chopped dried apricots or dates
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup chocolate chips

Method:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease and lightly flour a cookie sheet. Mix the eggs and sugar with an electric mixer until thick. Using a spoon mix in the flour, lemon rind, and cinnamon, then add in the dried fruit, nuts, and chocolate chips. Mix well.

Put the batter on the cookie sheet, making 2 strips 2" wide.

Bake 16-18 minutes or until lightly browned. Slice into 1/2" cookies while still warm. Transfer to a rack and let cool. Store the cookies in an air-tight container and refrigerate. They can be frozen.

Mandelbrot

Yield: about 2 dozen
Time: 30 minutes

Ingredients:

3 eggs
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup canola oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 pound walnuts (roughly chopped)
3 cups flour

Method:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Beat together the eggs, sugar, oil, salt, and vanilla until the mixture is smooth and custard colored. Add the baking powder and flour and mix well, then fold in the chopped walnuts. Form the dough into three logs about 2" wide and a foot long. Place them on an ungreased cookie sheet.

Bake 18-20 minutes or until lightly browned. While still warm, slice into 1/2" wide cookies. Place the individual cookies back on the cookie sheet and return to the oven for another 5 minutes and brown on both sides. Remove and let cool on a wire rack.

Keep the mandelbrot in an air-tight container. They can be frozen.