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Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Good Talking To You. America Must Suffer!

At Unfogged, Alameida notes something that I’ve been meaning to do for a while now. In fact, Chainsaw Mick and I often close our conversations in the exact same way.

Now I can never become President. (This is the one thing standing in my way.)

Monday, February 27, 2006

“Shut the window, it stinks.”

When Margarete Barthel walked into the museum at the Ravensbruck concentration camp in 1999, she told the docent who she was. She was the first guard ever to admit to returning to the place as a visitor.

A Washington Post story about a German woman who was once a guard at Ravensbruck, the only concentration camp solely dedicated to the penning and slaughter of women, is full of jarring dissonances between beauty and horror, idyllic youth and authoritarian coercion. As with most such stories, the notion of free will is complicated by the workings of the system and the strong instinct of people for self-preservation. It is even more complicated in retrospect, as an old woman searches for an absolution she must surely know she does not deserve. Not a pleasant read, but a most fascinating one.

h/t Gary Farber.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Adult Activities Time

The entire contents of this post will appear below the break, because I am ashamed.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

My brain is mush

Not that this is a new thing, really.  But today, my brain is especially aimless and distractable mush.  There are too many thinks competing for lebensraum in my noggin; the result is confusion, befuddlement and anomie.  My mind feels like the mud over which a demolition derby has been run.  Once my brain was a stainless steel, jagged tooth bear trap quivering with barely restrained force; now it is a half century old rusty mouse trap with a broken spring.

Getting To Yes

From Slate:

No president since Warren Harding has finished with fewer than 21 vetoes. The last president with no vetoes was James Garfield, who was shot in his first year. In fact, three of the last four presidents who never vetoed a bill had a good excuse: Like Harding, they died in office: Garfield, Zachary Taylor, and William Henry Harrison. (The fourth was Taylor’s successor Millard Fillmore.)

Bush, of course, has yet to veto a single bill, a feat only achieved heretofore by dead men.

I guess in one sense, it makes one a practicing conservative if one does not ever act, but in another, more accurate sense, it makes one a sap.

Woman… Come Here And Carry Out Your Contractually Obligated Wifely Duties!!

Those of you who are married… what would happen to you if you came home from a long day in the word-mines, hung your nice grey fedora on the peg by the door and said, “Woman.... Fix me a plate!” And what would happen if, after an evening of Ed Sullivan and a desultory game of bridge with the neighbors, you said to your wife, “Woman, it is time to service me! You will get in the bedroom and strip, now!”

Would you even do that? Even in jest? And what would you expect to happen afterwards? In the experience of every married couple I am friends with, joking about this would be like juggling with live grenades, and saying something like this in seriousness would be… well… unhealthy.

Well, how about writing your authority to do so in your pre-nup? Meet Travis Frey, an Iowa man currently up on charges for kidnapping his own wife and for child pornography. The Smoking Gun has a copy of his insane pre-nup draft, unsigned, that his wife submitted as evidence of his crazy-man insanitude, after the break.

Excerpts after the cut:

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

What We Mean

This is good:

One of the most useful aspects of the cartoon controversy is the clarity it has given to liberal ideals. It’s become abundantly clear since the beginning of the month that separation of church and state, free expression, and making demands on the government are not disparate concepts randomly yoked together in the first amendment of the United States constitution. They are mutual dependent and essential rights.

Nor are these rights simply offshoots or happy byproducts of a functioning democracy. They are prior to a functioning democracy. That is a hard teaching, and as Secretary of State Rice demonstrated with her idiotic expression of surprise at the results of the recent Palestinian election, even many high-flying Americans don’t fully grasp it.

This from Tim Cavanaugh at Reason. Although the whole thing is a bit of a word salad, there is a lot of insight in there. 

Boy, do I hate it when people put up a post basically saying “me too!” Now I need to go kick my own ass.

Putting The “yank” Back In Yankee

Hank Williams III wants you to know he doesn’t give a damn what you think. It’s a sort of coping mechanism. When you are the country-singing grandson of the greatest country singer of all time, and the son of a man who himself has had dozens of top-ten country hits and remained until this year the face of NFL football, I imagine it’s important to stake out your own territory as a man.

Whatever you could say about children of famous people goes triple for Hank III, whose gaunt visage and nasal voice more than a little take after the founder of his noble line. It was his family who gave us hard living songs like “I’ll Never Get Out Of this World Alive” and “Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound,” not to mention two of the more memorable substance-abuse biographies in a country music history full of great contenders.

To try to live up to this would be a hard burden to carry for even the steadiest person, and Hank Williams III is definitely not steady. He didn’t even really want to do country music until child-support payments forced his hand. And ever since he made his first recordings - a disc of Natalie Cole-style “duets” with his father and grandfather that he quickly disavowed - he has been fighting with the past and dealing with the pressure others put on him, by jettisoning mannered country stylisms in favor of a juiced-up country/punk hybrid.

Hank Williams III’s live shows are reportedly something else; a night that starts with a set of hard-bitten country ballads gradually revs up to a thrashing punk finale. And while plenty of groups have tried to marry punk and country to varying degrees of success (see: Mojo Nixon; The Reverend Horton Heat; Social Distortion’s Mike Ness), Williams’ balls-out I’m-an-asshole nature takes him over the top and into brand-new territory.  His music sounds for the most part like it could have been recorded in 1963, but in its execution it is rougher and rowdier than country ever has been- if Johnny Cash’s Tennessee Three was a long sip of Jim Beam, Hank III is a slug of Rebel Yell straight from the bottle.

His new album, Straight To Hell, is the first I’ve ever heard that straddles the hallowed ground between Bill Monroe and Mötörhead, between “Blue Moon of Kentucky” and “Ace of Spades.”

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Actual Facts

There have been four partially successful attempts to relocate Yellowstone National Park.

One, two, three awards!  Ah ah ah!

Last night, at an undisclosed location… Wait, people knew about it.  Last night, at a disclosed location… Nevermind.  Last night, in the light of a full moon under an ancient and sacred oak, the members of the Washington Area Musicians Association made offering to their pagan gods to determine, in the entrails of their sacrifices, who would be named king…

Last night, at the State Theatre in scenic Falls Church, Virginia WAMA held its twentieth annual Wammie award dinner and show.  As attentive readers will be aware, my wife’s band was nominated for six awards.  It turns out, they won three.  And they were the good ones.

In the general awards category, Dead Men’s Hollow won the award for Best Debut Album.  (Scroll down a bit to get to it.)

In the Bluegrass Category, DMH won Best Bluegrass Duo or Group, and Best Recording.

You can tell that ever since they got together, its been all downhill.  Basement.  Bars.  Strathmore.  State Theatre.  TV.  Satellite Radio.  Armed Services Benefit.  Kennedy Center.  Music Awards.  Next step, world domination.  Wait, that’s the Ministry’s plan.  For DMH, world tours and grammy nominations by the end of the decade.  That’s my prediction.

Monday, February 20, 2006

I *Will* stick my finger down your throat…

...should you swallow anything evil, of course.

Hi.

I’ve been gone awhile, concentrating on working.  And earning.  You know, get the money, dolla dolla bill y’all.  I just haven’t been able to contribute anything here, mainly because of the job(s) schedule(s) but also because the precious few non-working moments were spent talking myself out of taking the ol’ .38 taste test.

But I have been watching.  And lurking.  Mostly watching though, with a little lurking.  Watching and/or lurking, light on the lurk. 

I figure it’s been about two months since I posted anything.  Much longer than that since I posted anything good.  I’ve had lyrics on my mind alot though, if you couldn’t tell, and here’s what I’ve come up with after 2 months of careful consideration:

Proposed lyrics for the A-Team theme:

Ahem.

“We’re the A-Team,

the A-Team,

We’re the A-Team,

the A-a-a-ay Team...”

I don’t have a second verse yet, but that’s where I’m at so far.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Homeslice

For the last two years or so, I have been carefully feeding and nurturing a collection of wild yeasts and bacteria that I call “Herman” and that other people can more comfortably call my sourdough starter. Kept in the refrigerator and taken out for occasional feedings, he’s strong, hard-working and makes delicious bread. And writing about Herman in this way suddenly makes me feel like a bit of a creep.

Anyway. Any manservantish strangeness aside, I have developed a recipe for whole-wheat sourdough that I’m very fond of, and that’s well suited for people who are new to working with sourdough cultures and the stickier doughs they create.

Johno’s Miche

This large loaf is deeply flavored and rich with sweet, grainy and sour notes, and keeps for about a week at room temperature. It is modeled on French country loaves of past centuries, which would of course have been made with a nearly whole-grain flour and natural leavening. If you have trouble wrangling a 4-lb loaf, you can divide into two or three smaller loaves (reducing the baking time accordingly).

The recipe is based loosely on the famous pain Poilane of Lionel Poilane as adapted by baker Peter Reinhardt.  Enjoy!!

Firm starter:

7 oz. well-fed and active barm (loose sourdough starter)
4.5 oz bread flour
4.5 oz whole-wheat flour OR 2.5 oz whole-wheat flour plus 2 oz medium rye flour
4 oz water, room temperature

Mix together and knead 2 to 3 minutes until all ingredients are well incorporated. Let rise about 4 hours at room temperature in bowl covered with plastic wrap and then put in refrigerator for up to 24 hours. This time in the fridge has two effects - to let enzymes in the flour go to work breaking out complex sugars from the starches, which gives immense depths of flavor, and to promote the growth of acetic-acid producing bacteria in the starter, which will tend to give a sharper sour flavor to the finished loaf. A full discussion of sourdough cultures and how to manipulate them will have to wait for another time - for now just do as I say and everything will be juuuuust fine.

Main dough:
16 oz bread flour
16 oz whole-wheat flour OR 12 oz whole-wheat flour and 4 oz medium rye flour
3 1/4 tsp (.8) oz salt
about 2 1/2 cups water (20-22 oz), lukewarm (about 90 degrees)

Cut the starter into about 10 chunks and let come to room temperature covered with oiled plastic wrap, about 1 hour. Combine flours and salt in a large bowl and combine thoroughly. Add starter chunks one by one and coat with the flour mix. Add 20 oz of water. Mix well in the bowl, then turn out onto a counter and knead for about 15 minutes until dough is tacky and supple and more or less passes the windowpane test*. This is not a sticky dough, but it at first should be decidedly clingy; adjust water and flour if necessary to achieve the desired texture. Your target dough temperature is 77-81 degrees.

If you have a large and powerful stand mixer at home, you can also use this to mix the dough. Begin with the paddle attachment, and switch to the dough hook just as all the ingredients come together roughly. I say again -a large and powerful stand mixer: one of six quart capacity and a big engine that won’t burn up under the strain. I have a KitchenAid Professional 600, and it’s up to the task though not without some thrilling engine noises.

Transfer dough to a lightly oiled large bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise 3-4 hours or until about 1.5 times its original size. Wild yeasts work much more slowly than commercial yeast, but the extra time results in much more flavor in the finished product.

When dough is fully risen, remove to a lightly floured counter, press down lightly on it with your flattened hands to de-gas it a bit, and shape it into a large boule (round loaf). This is a great time to work on your shaping skills, with a loaf that is large but forgiving.

Line a large mixing bowl with linen or flour-sack towel. Sprinkle liberally with flour. Place the boule in this bowl, bottom side up. Cover bowl with plastic wrap or another bowl and let rise for 2-3 hours or until nearly doubled.

Preheat oven to 475 degrees for at least 45 minutes. For a gas oven, put one rack in the lower half of the oven, and place a pizza stone on it. Remove the other rack; it’ll be in the way. For an electric oven, place the racks on the two lowest levels, placing the pizza stone on the upper rack. Heat an old cast iron skillet or cake pan you never plan to use again on the floor of the oven, or on the lowest rack if using an electric oven.

When dough is ready, turn out carefully onto a full sized half-sheet pan (measuring about 18x13 inches, not a little cookie sheet) lined with parchment paper or a silicone liner. Let stand 5 minutes as you heat 1 1/4 cups water on the stove. Slash the dough in any pattern you want; the traditional way is a box cut - four slashes in a square, almost at the edges of the loaf. (Use a sharp knife, and make confident cuts that go about 1/4 inch deep into the dough - no more.)

When the water is boiling, transfer to a pyrex or plastic measuring cup and don your oven mitt.

Place the sheet pan on the stone, and pour the boiling water into the waiting pan. Be careful! - steam burns are bad news. The steam this produces will keep the starches in the crust from gelatinizing (hardening) while the loaf rises in the intense heat of the oven. If you are afraid of pouring water into your oven, you can use a few ice cubes instead, placing them in the pan when the loaf goes in, though this does rob the oven of heat. You can also use a spray bottle to mist the dough with water prior to going in the oven, and then spray the oven walls quickly with water at two-minute intervals for the first eight minutes or so of baking. This method also leads to great heat loss, so tack a few more minutes of baking time on the end.

Close the oven door and immediately reduce heat to 450, unless using the spray-bottle technique, in which you turn the oven down immediately after the last spraying. Start a 25-minute timer when the bread goes in the oven.

After 25 minutes, rotate the loaf 180 degrees. Reduce heat to 425 and bake another 30-40 minutes. If the bottom is browning too much, put an upside-down sheet pan underneath. If the top is getting too brown, tent some aluminum foil over top.

Remove from oven and cool on a rack. Do not cut for three hours.

This bread is phenomenal. The crumb is a bit dense and chewy, and full of subtle flavors that change in the mouth and linger for a good half hour after eating. Better yet, the flavor changes day by day, so week-old miche, which will still be fresh if stored properly at room temperature (NEVER refrigerated), will taste discernibly different from its first-day counterpart.

* The windowpane test: with relatively clean hands, cut off a walnut-sized chunk of dough from the main mass, and form it into a disc with your fingers. Then, holding the edges of the disc, pull it apart so that the center becomes thinner and thinner as the surface area increases. If you can achieve an unbroken membrane that’s translucent all the way across, your dough passes the windowpane test, and for most recipes can be considered sufficiently kneaded. For this recipe, you’ll have trouble getting a perfect windowpane. This is because the bran in the whole wheat flour and the optional rye flour tends to cut the strands of gluten that hold the dough together, sabotaging your nice windowpane. Don’t worry about it - close to a windowpane is perfectly sufficient. This a rough, ugly country loaf, not a refined effete persnickety bourgeois baguette dough we’re making here!

Carnival of the Recipes #79

Welcome to the 79th edition of the Carnival of the Recipes, hosted by your friends and eventual overlords here at the Ministry of Minor Perfidy.

This Carnival is a bit of a departure for us. For more than thirty centuries, the Ministry has been the leading institution for Eschatology (end-times studies) worldwide. We have been monitoring man’s inhumanity to man and measuring the potential for pan-species disaster - especially the threats posed by zombie invasion and giant fighting space robots - since before Hammurabi was in short pants.  We spend our days in the John of Patmos Memorial Library and Gift Shop staring into the chthonian depths of human depravity, and our nights in the Carl Sagan Observatory scanning the heavens for the sinister telltale glint of diffuse starlight on titanium skin.

All this gloom and doom does tend to wear on the soul. It is easy to lose perspective. As they say, when one stares into the abyss, the abyss looks into you. This is actually literally true, by the way; when one is involved in tendentious cross-dimensional profit repatriation negotiations with elder powers, you don’t have much time for pizza and beer. When Dread Chthulu is your opponent’s lead counsel these things don’t seem to matter as much as girding your psyche against gibbering madness from beyond.

However, it is important to remind ourselves that to most people things like pizza, beer, and volleyball do matter. When the apocalypse comes and the select few among you who we allow to take shelter in our Catastratorium, the nerve center of our global operations, need to eat, it is crucial that we have more than protein pills and MREs for you.

To that end, I have been leading a task force dedicated to perfecting the art of eating well under duress. Ancient crafts like brewing, baking, cheesemaking and animal husbandry are being adapted for long-term viability in underground caverns. Our best gnostic chirurgeons have teamed with our most elite scientists to make stunning advances in vat-grown meat and high-yield hydroponic farming. I think you will be well impressed, those among you who survive, when you are sipping a fine Dortmunder-style lager as the atomic bombs pound the surface far above.

For this, you see, is my stock in trade. My compatriots are stockpiling arms and radiation medication as we speak. And though I certainly have made sure I know where my 12 gauge, .45 revolver, and Louisville Slugger are, I also feel it is crucial to remember the finer things that buff the rough edges off a painful existence. If we met on the Serengeti, I would be the man in the impeccable linen suit with a camp table and a shaker of ice-cold gin. If we met in deepest space, we would dine in fine casual luxury on pizza margherita preserved indefinitely in hard vacuum and baked in the intense heat of fusion engine exhaust. And when the zombies roam or the robots maraud at will, when humankind must stand side by side with our greatest allies, the dolphin and octopus, to fight a proxy war against the menace that threatens to end us all, you (some of you, at least) will take some solace in the small homely comforts we provide.

For to live on in the face of disaster is merely animal. To live well, with panache and élan in the face of the grimmest apocalypse, well, that is human!

So come! Cross the threshold of the great double doors of the Catastratorium!

Come! Don a grey guest tunic and take a seat at the polished obsidian slab in the main cavern!

Come! See what elite guests have gathered for stimulating conversation and nonpariel apres-doom cuisine!

Come! Admire the unique and curious artifacts we have collected over three millennia! But don’t touch that! It would be better if that statute of Yog-Soth-Oth didn’t instantly cast your mind into insanity , don’t you think?

Come! Taste what toothsome delights our kichen staff have concocted, marvel at the astonishing variety of potluck the guests have brought!

Come! Raise your glass and toast the indomitable spirit of humankind!

To the future!

Now… what have we to eat??

Friday, February 17, 2006

Perspective

From my Mom, another joke Dick joke:

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Actual Facts

Children are born with a keen talent for professional landscaping, but lose it within the first few hours. 

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