Black Coffee in Bed

Some random musings on coffee...

Starbucks now has little booklets containing directions on how to order there. I am tragically not hip and therefore probably the last person to realize this. It does seem damn silly to me that ordering at Starbucks has to be done in some sort of arcane ritual that requires written directions to navigate. When I travel behind enemy lines (i.e. non-Dunkin Donuts occupied territory) I'm sometimes forced to buy Starbucks and I admit I've found that ritual bewildering. And pointless. All I want is freakin' coffee and instead I'm forced to dodge 'ventis', skip past 'doppios', hurtle a 'quad' or two and fend off a 'ristretto.' Parlez-vous Dunkies?

I suspect all this rigmarole stems from a) Starbucks' wish that people march in some sort of Orwellian lock-step while consuming their product (We must have ordnung) and b) people's wish to justify the outrageous sums they spend there by tarting up what is the end just plain fucking coffee and indulging in this snob appeal claptrap. Do you know the secret coffee handshake? Very well then my child, you may enter and order.

And, may I add, the word sassy should never ever ever be used in conjunction with coffee. Period, end of story. This is so obvious that further explanation should not be required. You may have your cup of joe black as night or sweet as sin or hot as hell, but you must never expect it to be sassy. Magazines for angst-ridden teen girls are 'sassy.' Coffee is not.

Nor should drinking your coffee involve the Gospels. Back in the days when I would occasionally find myself in Rhode Island, I came across Bess Eatons. The coffee is not bad, but I found their habit of putting passages from scripture on their cups a little disconcerting. I'll take mine light without hellfire please.

Lust To Love

I now officially want an Ipod.

I've been vaguely aware of them for some time, but paid them little attention. I figured since I don't even own or use a walkman-type-thingie, what use do I have for an Ipod.

Well, no practical use. But now I want one. Mainly because the MiketheCook - music junky extraordinaire - demonstrated to me the utility of this baby. The feature that sold me? Apparently you can play the damn thing in the car - or over any FM radio - without any cords or plugs or wires or the like. That is just too cool. As soon as I can justify the expense, I'm picking up one those badboys.

And speaking of too cool, go check out 5ives, Merlin's compendium of lists of 5. Very funny lists of 5. Such as...

Five terrible fake secrets about U.S. presidents

1. Jimmy Carter invented the "Pop 'n Lock" breakdancing move when he was in the navy.
2. Warren G. Harding once stabbed a hobo on a dare
3. Thomas Jefferson traded Dolly Madison three mules and a quill pen for an erotically charged lapdance
4.Calvin Coolidge never finished his dessert
5. James K. Polk liked it rough

Lyrical Gangster

Heard an old favorite - She Sells Sanctuary on the radio yesterday. And now I'm wondering: is Ian Astbury really singing "any my tax return, makes my back burn?"

Probably not. But I like to think so. Big ole rock star, worried about his tax return. Maybe he's concerned about filing on time while on the road. Or perhaps he's in arrears. And this doesn't give him a headache, or an ulcer; fuck no...it makes his back burn. That's some serious shit. Or maybe in the course of some rock n' roll debauchery someone lit his 40 form on fire, and the burning return alit on his back and burned him.

Yup. That's the kind of stupid thing I think about in my car.

Not Fade Away

Yesterday I mentioned some of my favorite openings to novels and short stories, and then asked what about endings? If you google 'first lines of novels' all sorts of things, from quizzes to quote collections, pop-up. Not much turns up for last lines though.

One last line - or rather last paragraph - did jump into my head:

"A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."

I'm not a great admirer of James Joyce; having read A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man and Dubliners I don't have any desire to read more Joyce. That being said, I think his short story The Dead*, which the above passage concludes, is brilliant. It's certainly makes my list of favorite short stories.**

*I also love the film version of The Dead; which I think was John Huston's last film.

**I am a compulsive list maker. An on-the-spot list of Dan's favorite short stories (in no particular order):

The Pugilist At Rest - Thom Jones
The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber - Ernest Hemingway
The Dead - James Joyce
The Big Knockover - Dashiell Hammett
But Loyal To His Own - David Drake

Beginnings and Endings

There are a number of sites primarily concerned with books and literary matters. Obviously, I've been reading the Bookslut for quite a while. I recently came across another one that I liked - Maud Newton. I particularly enjoyed two posts she made listing some of her favorite first lines from novels. Naturally, I thought of some of my own favorites in turn. (Or I coped her - whatever). Offhand I'd go with:

"He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad."
Scaramouche, Rafael Sabatini

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."
Neuromancer, William Gibson

"This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the Tailorbird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice, but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting."
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, Rudyard Kipling

"It was my devil's own temper that brought me to grief, my temper and a skill with weapons born of my father's teachings."
Sackett's Land, Louis L'Amour

"In the fall the war was always there, but we did not go to it any more."
In Another Country, Ernest Hemingway

"The candleflame and the image of the candleflame caught in the pierglass twisted and righted when he entered the hall and again when he shut the door. He took off his hat and came slowly forward."
All The Pretty Horses, Cormac McCarthy.

So, what are some of your favorite firsts?

Or better yet, what about last lines? I can't immediately recall any striking or memorable last lines from novels (or shorts), but that doesn't mean they're not out there.

Harmless

You're The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy!

by Douglas Adams

Considered by many to be one of the funniest people around, you are
quite an entertainer. You've also traveled to the far reaches of what you deem possible,
often confused and unsure of yourself. Life continues to jostle you around like a marble,
but it's shown you so much of the world that you don't care. Wacky adventures continue to
lie ahead. Your favorite number is 42.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Number 42. Jackie Robinson's number. Cool.

(link via Sheila Astray)

A Study In Contrasts

Happy: He takes Viagra in church.

Sad: Ah, la sweater model, elle est tres desolee!

(links via The Morning News)

It's Not Easy Being Cheesy

The latest round of questions from Cheddar X:

1. What was your last good deed for a stranger?
Holding the door open for an elderly lady with an armful of books at the library. It's the Boy Scout in me.

2. Describe the last relationship that ended badly or with regrets.
I don't think I'll go into specifics. It's one thing for me to lift the curtain of privacy and reveal a bit of myself; it's another thing for me to do it to someone else. I wouldn't want it to be done to me, so I won't do it to another.

In general though, I feel any endings are inherently 'bad.' Even if it's right and proper that they end, there's always (for me anyway) a sense of sorrow at losing someone I cared for deeply, and for the death of possibility. Concerning regrets...well I've said and done my share of idiotic things, hell probably more than my share. I regret all of them, particularly the ones that hurt someone else. I wish I was smarter than that.

3. Do you love or hate your job? Why?
I'll skip this one; another thing I won't blog about is work.

4. What was the strangest place you've lived?
In a fraternity house with no heat. Made for a long winter.

5. What blogs do you occasionally read just because you have no idea why anyone would have any interest in reading them?
I don't choose blogs to read based on what others think. I simply read the ones I enjoy. Some have a readership numbering well into the thousands and some are like mine.

6. Have you engaged in comment wars before? On your blog or on someone else's? What was the war about?
No. Frankly I find that sort of behavior lacking in courtesy.

I have, however, been tempted.

7. Do you ban IP's and commenters? Who and why?
I've never had to, mainly because I don't get all that many commenters. I wouldn't be inclined to do so however, at least not for having differing opinions. I won't tolerate rudeness or trolling though. I pay for this small space. I wouldn't suffer that sort of behavior in my home, so why would I suffer it here? Guests and opinions of all varieties are welcome, as long as courtesy is observed.

8. What is the first thing you notice about someone when you first meet them?
Whether or not they look me directly in the eyes.

9. Have you already made up your mind about the next Presidential Election?
No.

Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride.

The Red Sox open their season in April 4th on the road in Baltimore. With a little luck I'll be there, because as I noted last year, I can't help myself. Not only can I not help myself, I can barely contain myself. I'm practically pawing the ground at the thought of more voodoo shrines and impromptu baseball clinics.

I'm over my broken heart. I'm ready to be romanced again, to give in to hope. I'm ready for baseball to come back into my life.

The Irish Sports Page...

...more commonly known as the obituaries. Properly done, obituaries can be hugely entertaining, especially for those of us with a morbid turn of mind or a gallows sense of humor.

The Daily Telegraph's obituaries are excellent, to the point where 'best of collections' have been published, and rightly so. Folks from all walks of life appear in death in the Telegraph obits. You can read them online - you have to register for a password first, but I found the entertainment value made the registration worthwhile. Where else can you read about Harold von Braunhat, the inventor of Sea
Monkeys and find this little gem of dry understatement?

But Sea Monkeys were always less a toy than a test of childhood faith. The creatures may have lived dazzlingly heroic or romantic lives in the minds of their owners, but the physical evidence was always a bit disappointing. The biggest Artemia nyos ever grows is a tenth of an inch and the most interesting thing it does is follow a beam of light up and down its tank. Mostly it does nothing at all.

Or take the strange case of Lord Jenkins of Putney:

In 1945 he was sent to Burma to run the Forces Radio Service in Rangoon. There he identified himself so passionately with the Burmese people that he took to wearing native dress and calling himself Uyan Kin. This did not commend him to his superiors, and he was dispatched home.

You can learn about the behind-the-lines escapades of Sigmund Freud's grandson:

At the meeting the next day attended by all the local army and Nazi officials of the district, it was decided to escort Freud to Linz to see General Rendulic to confirm the takeover of the airport. The high point of the meeting for him was the fact that fully half the attendees asked for a private word in order to stress their personal love for Jews.

And if you think you've problems with love and romance, consider the very complicated relationships of one Jennifer Ross:

In 1942 Jennifer, already pregnant, married Robert Heber-Percy and entered a most unusual ménage. Heber-Percy had been living at Faringdon for a decade as the boyfriend of Lord Berners, the composer and eccentric known for his waspish sense of humour and his exotic way of life: guests were summoned to dinner by a music box in the hall; the doves that flew about were dyed many and various colours (inadvertently making them vulnerable to predators), and the whole set-up was gently parodied by Nancy Mitford, who drew on Lord Berners for the fictional Lord Merlin.

Heber-Percy himself was a wild figure, known as "the Mad Boy" in Berners's circle. He had done more than enough to earn the sobriquet; even if Berners's fondness for exaggeration is taken into account, there is substance in many of the stories. He once nearly killed a woman in Salzburg by throwing a tankard from a restaurant, attempted to commit suicide and had to be removed heavily tranquilised. When he arrived in Florence he was "carried into the hotel in a semi-conscious state still dressed in his Tyrolean costume and with his hair hanging all over his face". At Amalfi he hit Berners over the head with a button-hook when Berners, wary of being spotted at the table with a young man sporting a bright red shirt, refused to accompany him to breakfast on the terrace.

The Heber-Percy marriage took everyone by surprise, not least Lord Berners, who was not at all sure how to react.

Jesus that last sentence absolutely kills me.

Weekend Update

My weekend was, on the whole, quiet.

Except for the freakishly twitchy and weird girl down at the local Saturday night who tried to persuade my friend and I to go and freebase some cocaine with her. I especially enjoyed the oh-so-dramatic hand gestures she employed to concept of 'euphoria exploding in my brain.' I'm going to have improve my unapproachable demeanor if sideshow geeks like that are going to continue to parade into my watering hole.

On a more positive note, I walked away from our monthly Texas Hold 'Em game with $170 in my pocket.

So on the one hand, despite being single Valentine's Day did somehow manage to involve a mentally unstable woman.

On the other hand, I didn't have to pay for it.

Reviews in Brief

I tend to rent and watch movies in spurts. Every so often I'll pick three or four and greedily devour them. And then being sated, my DVD player will lie dormant until the urge hits again. Over the past week or so, I took in the following films:

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

An extraordinary waste of time. The graphic novel written by Alan Moore is a fun and clever homage to the heroes and villains of Victorian literature. The League consists of Minna Murray from Dracula, Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll, Captain Nemo of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and The Mysterious Island, H.G. Well's Invisible Man, and Allan Quartermain of King Solomon's Mines fame. Together, they match wits against such foes as Dr. Fu Manchu and Professor Moriarty. Anyone who's a fan of Victorian literature (of the type mentioned above) or history will enjoy the comic.

But sadly, not the movie which was dumbed down into a run-of-the-mill action flick, with most of the darkness of the book removed, along with the literary references. Skip the flick, get the graphic novel.

Wasabi

I like Jean Reno (The Professional, Ronin). I like gangster flicks. I like Hong Kong style action films. So naturally I enjoyed this Luc Besson outing. Reno is short-tempered two-fisted French cop who winds up protecting a long-lost daughter from the Yakuza. This is pure entertainment - no mental heavy-lifting here. Watch in it French with the subtitles.

Bravo Two Zero

Starring Sean Bean and based on the book by Any McNab, this BBC production relates the true story of an SAS team whose SCUD hunting mission goes horribly wrong during the first Gulf War. The tone of the film is very strait forward - almost like a documentary - from the workman like way the troopers prepare for their behind-the-lines-insertion, to the gritty details of small unit actions and escape and evasion techniques. This is not a 'rah rah' Sands o' Iwo Jima type war film. The accents take a little getting used to, but Bean - as usual - gives an excellent performance.

The Lion in Winter

Peter O'Toole and Kate Hepburn portray Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. They quarrel and scheme against one another - a lot. Nothing really happens in this film - the ending left me vaguely wondering what the point was - but the dialogue is wicked and it's a joy to watch O'Toole and Hepburn spar. Timothy Dalton and Anthony Hopkins made their feature film debuts in this picture, and I think Hepburn won an oscar for it.

Owner of a Randandom Heart

You didn't think I was going to mention Valentine's Day, did you? Well, because I do indeed have the love here's a token - a link, if you will - of my affection.

From NPR's Day to Day, a segment titled "Common Literary Elements of Silly Love Songs" in which pop songs are discussed as today's love poems. Shakespeare, meet Air Supply.

The reason you should listen? The achingly funny sound of Carl Cassel reciting Pat Benatar's Love is a Battlefield To listen, click on the link above and then select the third story from the bottom (the whole segment is only 4 or so minutes long).

(link via BoingBoing)

Top Ten Proposed President's Day Specials at the local

10. I Like Ike and Beer
9. Tippecanoe and Porkchops Too
8. Taft's All You Can Eat Buffet
7. Bull Moose Burger
6. General Grant's Rum Cake
5. Nattering Sishkabobs of Negativity
4. State of the Salmon Address
3. Soup du Fillmore
2. Hail to the Chicken
1. Pomp and Salad

Lies, Lies, Lies, yeah!

I think I like this guy:

I told a co-worker last night that my middle name was O'Malley, and that I was named after the cat Tom O'Malley in The Aristocats. Since it made such an impact on my parents. And I think she believed me.

I also told her that my life story was made into the movie Gremlins. I think (I hope) she was a little more dubious about that claim.

There are few things in life as delightful as persuading someone to believe an outlandish (yet harmless lie.) My greatest triumph in this realm was convincing a girlfriend that my then roommate had six toes on this left foot. But, I told her, you must never ask him about it or mention it, or even look it. He is very sensitive about this deformity.

Hilarity ensued over the next few weeks as I would catch her surreptitiously trying to observe and count his toes.

Unfortunately this sort of thing can backfire. After the toe scam was revealed to her, she became much more disinclined to believe me. When I told her that Cal Ripken's brother Billy used to play for the Orioles as well, she told me I was a liar and that she was going to fall for my nonsense again.

Oona Goota, Solo?

More Star Wars geekery for your reading pleasure: the McGill Department of Exopolitics findings on the Greedo assassination conspiracy.

(Link via our man in Charm City)

I Got A Bad Feeling About This

So, word on the street has it that original Star Wars trilogy is going to be released on September 21st. Unfortunately, these DVDs will not be the exact versions originally released in the movie theater; instead they will be 'Special Editions' only, incorporating the many 'improvements' George Lucas made to the originals in later years. This includes the infamous - nay treasonous - Greedo shoots first scene.

(A brief note to my baker's dozen of readers: if you didn't follow my reference to the Greedo shoots first scene, then feel free to skip the rest of this post, as your level of Star Wars geekery is so low that the following will bore you anyway.)

I think Lucas stopped understanding (if he ever did to begin with) that the original Han Solo-blasts-Greedo-out-of-his-chair-without warning version of the scene completely established the character of Han Solo as a shady guy. And he certainly doesn't understand that in 1977 thousands of boys wanted to be Han Solo because he was a dangerous badass with a fast car and a cool dog - I mean a fast ship and a wookie - to boot. Sure he turned out to have a soft spot, but he wasn't a whiny goody-two shoes like Luke. If there's anything a red-blooded boy hates (aside from a snitch), it's a goody two-shoes.

I hate the sanitized Care Bears version of Han Solo.

Book Ends

On this date in 1763 the Treaty of Paris was signed and the Seven Year's War was brought an to end. This conflict - better known to us as the French and Indian War - brought an end to France's overseas possessions in North America and sowed the seeds for the American Revolution a decade later. You can find an excellent account of the fighting in North America - often on New England's doorstep - in Francis Parkman's Montcalm and Wolfe. The somewhat archaic prose style can, however, make for some slow going. I started this book last fall and finished it up just a few weeks ago.

Also on this date in 1906 the HMS Dreadnought of the British Royal Navy was launched - a significant escalation in the naval arms race between the British Empire and the Second Reich. Robert K. Massie's Dreadnought is an excellent account, not only of the naval arms race, but of European diplomacy over the 40 years prior to the outbreak of the Great War, when the lamps went out over Europe. Massie's writing is anything but dull and will drag you in if you're of a historical bent - but at a 1000 plus pages Dreadnought certainly isn't a light read. I read this book many years ago and have returned to browse it'd pages on many occasions since then; the successor volume Castles of Steel is currently waiting my attention.

Train in Vain

Yesterday I surfed across this post, about one woman's Back-Up Plan. A Back-Up Plan, in case you're unfamiliar with the concept, is when a man and woman agree to marry if both are single when a certain age is reached. I'm sure the concept has been around for a while, but it certainly was popularized by the movie My Best Friend's Wedding.

I've been the recipient of one or two offers of this nature, but I still find the whole notion kind of unsettling. To me, it's simultaneously flattering ('Sure I'll marry you...') and insulting ('...if I think I can't do any better.') I think my personality makes me unsuitable for an arrangement of this sort. I'm entirely too stubborn to settle for marrying someone I didn't feel was 'the One' for me - stubborn enough to prefer to remain a bachelor. And I'm too competitive, in a stealthy sort of way, to ever want to be anybody's second choice.

However that's not to say that I don't have a Back-Up Plan of my own. It consists of arranging for (potential) lodging in spare rooms and on couches of various folks, in case I reach old age and find myself still single. This is not the horrible leech-like arrangement it sounds like; I feel I would add value to any household, particularly one with children. I could be Jolly Old Uncle Dan:

Mom: "If you kids finish your chores right away, Uncle Dan will take you out for ice cream."
Children: "Yay! Hooray for Uncle Dan!"

Or I can play the heavy, as Eccentric Old Uncle Dan:

Mom: If you children don't do those chores, I'm going to send Uncle Dan to pick you up from school tomorrow."
Children:" Oh No! Please don't Mom! Uncle Dan mumbles a lot, and his stories go on forever and he scares our friends when he does that blinking thing."

I'm currently taking reservations.

I'm Looking Through You

Man Says Wife Died In 9/11 Tragedy, But She Didn't

"Yes, my wife, Donna Lee Laskowski, died in the World Trade Center [on] September 11th," he said.

"See, what I have a hard time understanding is, I interviewed your wife last week," Thuman informed him.

"You did? Where?" asked Laskowski, Sr.

"You understand these papers that you filed with the government claim that she died in the towers. Your wife told me she never has been to New York, never been to the World Trade Center," Thuman said.

"You sure you're talking about the right Donna Lee Laskowski?" he asked.

"Yes," Thuman replied.

To which Laskowski, Sr. said, "Well that changes everything, doesn't it?"

I can understand the man's confusion. Really I can. It's easy to misplace things and think they're lost forever. Why, once I thought I lost my tuxedo. And since I was supposed to wear it that very same evening, I was rather upset. Lucky for me, my then-girlfriend pointed out that if the last time I saw my tux was when I lent to a friend, perhaps the friend still had the tuxedo.

"Well that changes everything, doesn't it?" I replied, and the evening was saved.

Idiot. I hope he gets lit on fire. Or does time. Or both.

(Link via Smoke on the Water)

Big Mouth Strikes Again

Among the many reasons baseball is my favorite sport is one of its unwritten rules: ‘ thou shalt not show up the opposition.’ Pause to admire your ball going over the fence, or take an excessively slow trot around the bases, and you just might wind up on your ass the next time you come to bat.

I can think of several good reasons for this rule. First, I’m of the old school that believes that showboating is simply low-rent, and idiotic too. Your skills should speak for themselves i.e. in case you’re confused your homerun is impressive – not your homerun trot. Second, baseball is an exacting game played over a long season., so don’t become too pleased with yourself. You may be the hero on a given day, but inevitably over the course of the season you will come and short and fail.

I like that kind of ethic. I think it’s a good way to approach life. You have a particular talent? Wonderful – exploit that talent to it’s fullest – but exhibit some class along with it. You want to tell me how great you are? Knock yourself out – we both know life is exacting, and has plenty of ways of humbling a person.

In case you haven’t gotten the point by now, I dislike show-boaters and big-mouths. If you have the talent to back up your mouth you’ll get my grudging recognition – along with my pity for your obvious weakness and insecurity. We both know you’re good – so what are you trying to compensate for by calling attention to it? And if you can’t back it up, well the, you get my contempt. It can be highly annoying dealing with these kinds of people. But it can also be very satisfying. A case in point is the gentleman I’ll simply refer to as Bigmouth.

Bigmouth plays poker with us. Bigmouth would like us to believe he is practically a pro himself, and tries to convince us of this by affecting various mannerisms probably learned from watching various real professionals playing Texas Hold ‘Em on ESPN. He enjoys talking smack, and showing up other plays when he has the winning hand. Bigmouth combines the above characteristics with a simple lack of manners – splashing the pot, betting out of turn and the like. He is not, to the say least, well liked.

Most importantly of all, Bigmouth is not as good a player as he believes himself to be. Of the three times I’ve sat across the table from him, I’ve knocked him out of the game twice. I can honestly say I didn’t go looking to do that – a poker game is ‘business not personal’ and I’ll take a friend out just as quickly as someone who irks me.

But I can also honestly say I enjoyed every single moment of it. Smack talk, meet full house.

In and Out of Links

From the Washington Post - The Truth About Massachusetts.

. I'm sorry, but people who think Massachusetts is a culturally or politically demented place have never been to Massachusetts.

Or at least never spent any length of time here. I know a lot of people with a lot of different political opinions and perspectives, but I don't know any Chomsky-type America haters. (The only exception is the resident Irish leftie down at the local who is prone to rants about the evil that is the United States. Oddly enough this hasn't prevented him from settling here and raising a family - but that's a rant for another time.

My blue-collar hometown of Fall River, Mass., was solidly Democratic, but as conservative in its values as you could imagine -- family, church, neighborhood, hard work and patriotism were the drill.

Mr. Dionne's observations about Fall River could be applied to most of this state. Except perhaps Cambridge. And I'm certainly excluding students, at least those that aren't natives.

Next up, some graffiti from an abandoned fortress in Verdun (as in Verdun, France, site of a major WWI battle):
Austin White ---- Chicago, Ill. ---- 1918
Austin White ---- Chicago, Ill. ---- 1945
This is the last time I want to write my name here.

I came across this tidbit posted on silflay Hraka today, a scant day or two after reading about it in Paul Fussell's Wartime: Understanding and Behavior in the Second World War. The quote stayed with me, probably because my maternal grandfather served in northwest Europe during WWII. I don't know if he left any graffiti there - he never spoke of it much. Except to teach me a rhyme about 'a place in France where the naked ladies dance.'

He was kind of a card like that.

Thought For the Day

It's funny because it's true.