Final Jeopardy: The Last Joke (for the weak!)

The parish priest stops Brian on the street and asks how he managed to get so drunk the night before.

“Well, Father,” says Brian. “I won a bottle of whiskey in a raffle, and then I fell in with some bad company.”

“Bad company? Weren’t you with Jim Murphy, Aedan Clark, and Sean Joyce?”

“Yes, father. Bad company.”

“Brian, not one of those men drinks.”

“Yes, father. That’s what I mean. Bad company.”

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Portraits by Harry Confusio

Wikipedia tells us:

The Croton Aqueduct or Old Croton Aqueduct was a large and complex water distribution system constructed for New York City between 1837 and 1842. It brought water by the force of gravity along 41 miles (66 km) from the Croton River in Westchester County into reservoirs in Manhattan, where local water resources had become polluted and inadequate for the growing population of the city. Although the aqueduct was supplemented and largely superseded by the New Croton Aqueduct, which was built in 1890, the Old Croton Aqueduct remained in service until 1955.

The man who designed and built the Croton Aqueduct was John B. Jervis (1795-1885), who is the subject of Harry Confusio’s portrait. HC told me, via email, that he just admires persons who work themselves up from laborers to leading engineers. Jervis was such a man. Whilst working as an axeman on the Erie Canal, Jervis studied on his own the principles of engineering. He later designed bridges and railroads and the steam engines that ran on the railroad.

HC says, in another email, that Jervis was the epitome of the great tradition of American exceptionalism–HC’s idea here is that Jervis never expiated upon exceptionalism:; he merely exemplified it.  Jervis’s last words before he expired were “Water is life.”

Here is HC’s portrait of John B. Jervis:

jervis2

 

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Tuesdays are for Soup

Today’s soup was made with a feeling of informed spontaneity, by which I mean that I made today’s soup without setting out to follow a recipe.

Usually I have a soup in mind, and I shop to gather all the right ingredients. Today, however, I decided to use merely what was available in the house.

Now, last night, my wife made her wonderful meatloaf, which always provides two leftovers: meatloaf and fatty liquid that baking the meat provides. That liquid set in a jar overnight in the fridge separates to a savoury jelly below and a layer of hardened fat above. Well, I removed the fat and used the aspic and some of the meatloaf. I added the various broths from the fridge and some vegetables to hand. I created a meatloaf soup.

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Meatloaf Soup

Ingredients

1 yellow onion, large and minced

2 tbsp olive oil

1 cup meatloaf savory jelly

2 cups beef broth

2 cups chicken broth

2 tbsp bacon fat

4-6 oz  leftover meatloaf (or any left over meat)

1 can red beans (or any other you have around the house)

1 can green beans

1 can diced tomatoes

5 medium potatoes, julienned

2 tbsps minced garlic

1 tsp ground rosemary

Directions

Sauté onion in olive oil (about ten minutes).

Add the broths, bring to boil. Lower to simmer.

Add bacon fat and meatloaf (broken into various sizes).

Add green beans, tomatoes, and potatoes. Bring to boil, then lower to simmer.

Add garlic and rosemary.

Simmer for several hrs.

 

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A Picture I Like

m4s0n501

Seven Men in Dragon Mountain

Qi Baishi, the Chinese artist who painted Seven Men in Dragon Mountain, was born in 1864 and died in 1957.  His reputation acknowledges  a commitment painting so focused that he was unencumbered by the momentous political affairs during the time he lived–such as the fall of the Qing Dynasty, the creation of the Republic of China, and Two World Wars.

The seven men of the title are said to be the seven poets who were part of the poetry group established by Wang Zhong Yan, who was a poet and a friend of Qi Baishi.

The painter expressed his central aesthetic idea in the following words:

The excellence of a painting lies in its being alike, yet unlike. Too much likeness flatters the vulgar taste; too much unlikeness deceives the world.

And one can see in the painting the likenesses of fir trees and the strangeness of the mountains, which retreat like growing  gray clouds of potatoes or like steel coils unraveling as they stand further away.

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Caviar to the general

Elinor Wylie

No one knows who said of Elinor Wylie that  “She was famous during her life almost as much for her ethereal beauty and personality as for her melodious, sensuous poetry.”

The picture above certainly bears testimony to her unusual beauty. As for her personality, she was a life-long lover of Percy Bysshe Shelley. Here’s a little tidbit I snipped from The Oxford Book of American Literary Anecdotes:

Wylie

Pretty Words

Poets make pets of pretty, docile words:
I love smooth words, like gold-enamelled fish
Which circle slowly with a silken swish,
And tender ones, like downy-feathered birds:
Words shy and dappled, deep-eyed deer in herds,
Come to my hand, and playful if I wish,
Or purring softly at a silver dish,
Blue Persian kittens fed on cream and curds.

I love bright words, words up and singing early;
Words that are luminous in the dark, and sing;
Warm lazy words, white cattle under trees;
I love words opalescent, cool, and pearly,
Like midsummer moths, and honied words like bees,
Gilded and sticky, with a little sting.

by Elinor Wylie

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Something Fine

corinthian

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