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Bawkward ran the physics until reeled the mind! I nod and say un hunh, but that's not comprehension you see dawning on my face.
Here's something counter-intuitive, despite the fact that cooking shows seem to be ubiquitous on the higher numbered channels, Americans' cooking skill have atrophied to the point that recipes now avoid once common terms like "dredge," "fold," and "cream." God forbid you should use my old fudge-making nemesis, "Cook until the soft-ball stage."
Q: Have I mentioned that I'm not too fond of the Ayre's appearance?
A: Why, yes, I have.
A: Why, yes, I have.
They are just so — so — plain. Gray like this New York City sky. They almost have no looks. If not for the silly Myrtle blocks, which prop them up, I probably wouldn't notice that they were even in the room. The amplifier, actually, looks a lot like a CD player. The CD player looks a lot like an amplifier. One time, I dumbly tried to stick a disc into the amp. I thought the damn thing was broken.
You know what, though? Last night, as I listened to Ella and Louis, I…
So I don't mind if you think I'm a hopeless dweeb for loving last night's West Wing. After all, when I asked my flight attendant for a special service on Saturday, I said, "you'll probably lose all respect for me . . . ."
She said, "I couldn't lose any respect for you, (pause) you already couldn't find your seat."
Baa dum dumb!
It wasn't that Democrat Matt Santos won, is was that West Wing made me weep like a baby and guffaw like a sailor.
Better than that, it made me proud to be an American, where disirregardless of political affiliation, the transfer of power is…
Yes! Find out that it's a lot harder than you think to make a vinyl record. Best part: Incorrectly centering the disc. (Most record presses do a pretty good job of this.)
Today's posts follow a common theme. First, we direct you to the Reith lectures on BBC4. And yes, dear readers (this means you, Clay White), this time you get transcripts as well as audio streaming and podcasts.
Next, we have this article, submitted by Jonathan Scull, which says the lectures rail against "passive noise pollution"—that Daniel Barenboim claims we are too frequently forced to hear music over which we have no control and, thus, we listen too infrequently to music we have actually chosen.
Over at The Times, Terence Kealey begs to differ, not just with Barenboim's (and Plato's) premise that music uses sound to educate the soul in virtue, but also that "making music and playing it in an orchestra is the best way to understand democracy."
Good point, Mr. Kealey. Now if he'd said playing in a jazz band, we might find his argument more, shall we say, reality based.
At The Telegraph, Gillian Reynolds isn't convinced Barenboim made either of those arguments at all.
"On that cold and gloomy Friday night I left the Cadogan Hall wondering several things: how long would the [radio program] producer have to wrestle with the material to make it into a programme; whether Barenboim had actually said anything new or remarkable; if the BBC realises how brilliantly Sue Lawley rescues sticky situations; why Radio 4 felt so confident of Barenboim's powers of argument that they let him deliver these lectures from notes, not a text."
As the plane approached the chaos of John F. Kennedy International Airport, I turned my head towards the small oval window to look out onto the bright City skyline.
None of these towers of steel and concrete and glass — their spires stabbing the night and bloodying the blackness with sickly fluorescent glow — could say a word about the magnificence of mountains. It was a struggle for power, as if the City was afraid of being overcome and had waged war with the sky. I felt no life, saw no beauty. In comparison to the miracle of green and perfect balance of Vermont's truth and quiet,…