Insights of Meditation; part a

It came to me in a flash of clarity.

Ever wonder where Trump and his son, the wannabe mini-me-Trump, got that poker face thing they do on the apprentice, and what makes them think it is cool?

The Donald picked it up from the old Alfred Hitchcock series. Al would parade into view wearing that expressionless expression, then begin his droll narrative. No matter what he said, it seemed highly intelligent and beyond reproach due to his delivery and that emotionless countenance, which still managed to convey an air of superiority.

It is clear that the Trumps have studied this and practiced imitating Mr. Hitchcock's manner, incorporating it into their management style. I suspect that they watch old Hitchcock intros then run to the mirror to see how close they can come to duplicating the look.

Now Trump's secret is out. I can't believe I am the first to realize the influence behind the man and the show. Just goes to show the power of meditation, daydream, and living half in one dimension and half in another.

Movie Review: Midnight in Paris

Say what you will about Woody Allen, he can write a script and make a movie. Fortunately, I am not overly familiar with his affairs. From what I understand he kept it in the family, so there you have at least some version of family values. I prefer that to elites visiting Castro and Chavez then coming back praising them as geniuses and great men while wearing a Che T shirt. For all I know Woody did that when I wasn't looking.

That aside, I liked this flick, partly because I am an Owen Wilson fan and identified with his character in this movie. No good outward reason to do so, I just did. That happens sometimes.

The concept is great and they carry it off in a way that is never boring. It is one of those movies that you hope won't end. The humor is good, and it is a good escape. A clever film, I'd say.

So, if you are thinking to yourself, "Should I rent one of the Jackass movies or Midnight in Paris", I heartily recommend the latter, unless you are a fan of Jackass movies, in which case I suggest you get yourself a six shooter, load every other chamber, and in the privacy of your own home, with no children present, play Russian roulette with your pals prior to watching whatever movie you rent. You'll probably be tempted to film yourselves in hopes of one day marketing your own jackass movie. I torn between encouraging that or not.

Taming The Spice

First, I have decided I am a good catch because I cook the best two or three things, sandwich, omelet, Mexican extravaganza of anyone on the planet, as far as I know. I admit that the spices friends have encouraged me to test have made all the difference.

Really. You don't need a big spice rack. All you need is pepper, the good salt, Howling Wolf, Richard's Delicious Seasoning, and Pimenton de la Vera. Deciding which of the last 3 items to use depends upon mood at the time as much as what is being cooked.

Once again, I ate no breakfast, and not much lunch, so it seemed a perfect time for a breakfast extravaganza for supper. A 10 pm delight. This was a perfect chance to test the La Chinata Pimenton de la Vera. Need I say every time that the accent is over the O? Thought not.

Having been around the block a time or two, I knew not to gob this stuff on top of things. I put a wee mite and a half into the omelet mix--extra large eggs, finely chopped spinach, a dab of sour cream, and a trickle and three quarters of half and half.

Hash browns on the side with a vegetarian's version of bacon. I like those pictures of bacon that Morningstar farms sells. Sue me, give me lectures about why not just kill a pig? I don't care.

So La Chinata smoked, smoking hot paprika was cooked in, and I used it sparingly. Worked as if I knew what I was doing. I dare you to make me a better omelet. Oh it had plenty of extra sharp cheddar as well. The one you make me can have feta cheese and such. Spend a fortune if you have it.

Next I will test it on some sort of bean bonanza Mexican edible pinata---it's the n with the tilde not the other one---surprise.

What people do, other than become grossly obese, if they have more spices, I do not know. You'd want to eat way more than is recommended by federal and state agencies, and their wives. The grocery bill for buying stuff to cook with the seasonings would be enough to keep you in recapped tires for a year.

What I don't get is why so many eateries out there have no clue when it comes to preparing good food. Maybe they get carried away with variety. People do that. They eat slugs, squid and things that only the sophisticated and ambitiously elite would bother ingesting. But it is still a badge of class to do so. They eat worms off of fine china, therefore they are way the hell ahead of me.

I think the weird things eaten around the world is probably a secret contributor to war and religious fanaticism. Not that I care, or would care if the worm chefs would also fix something I find edible without having it all mixed up with worm bits because they arrogantly refuse to clean the cooking surface. Easy to see why I avoid places many people love. It is just not fun. And to think, I helped catch the fish the gang down in Florida ate one night for supper. See? It isn't that I would not help others get what they want. But turnabout in the marketplace does not work in my favor.

That could be because many vegetarians who adopted the habit for reasons that don't fit me tend to try to make everyone do what they do, and even claim to be helping save the planet, whatever that is supposed to mean. I am not of that group. As a matter of fact, I think they are part of the planet's problem, like all people who go around trying to force others to change when it is not their business.

In Praise of Sour Cream

Let's say you discover a package in your PO box and when you open it you discover it is something called pimenton de la vera--accent mark on the O. You are quite happy you waited until you returned home to explore further.

Oh, a new seasoning, you think to yourself. You also think, I hope people don't imagine that they have to send me something just because I sent some of Richard's their way. Even so, it is a thrill to get packages in the mail.

On this outing I actually had two packages. One, which is unrelated to sour cream, was a gigantic candy cane from a factory in Scribblerville New England. It is remarkably artful and I've even seen pictures there on Scribbler's blog showing it being made. This is going to last me a little while. Well, maybe not too long.

Mmm mmm, the people at Tucks Candies, famous since 1929 -and rightly so, know how to make a candy cane like none I've ever seen or tasted. You think you will bust teeth to look at it, but just a gentle bite and you have a delightful mix of flavors like no candy cane ever. It is crunchy but not a jaw breaker. It has a little mint and maybe a little licorice, not sure, but it is great.

Here is the chief elf making my candy cane. I stole the pic from Scribbler who was conducting industrial espionage at the candy factory for the Grinch, I think. Or possibly for some secret TSA mission.

Excuse me while I take another nibble.

OK, so I get home and decide to check out the little tin my food (and other things) snob friend picked up in Spain. I mean "snob" in the most complimentary sense of the word. The woman is a friggin genius so she has reason, sometimes, for this eccentricity.

La Chinata is the brand, I think. My spanish works in Mexico, but not so much in Espana. (little thing over the n). I don't need to look up what Pimenton (accent over the O) de la Vera means. It means you've just been french kissed by El Diablo while he was in a very hot rage. I did not know this before I explored this spice.
So, once I got the tin opened--I like things in tins with the circle shaped cap--I thought I'd just dip my finger in and sample a pinch. Mostly it did not stick to my finger so I unsanitarily touched my finger to my tongue then poked it in the container. Then I licked my finger.

Holy smoke! I only ingested a bare few thousandths of half a gram, I swear. I mean like the equivalent of about four grains of the good salt. Instantly my sinuses cleared, my brain unfogged and steam gently exited through my ears and eyes. If you have family members who have trouble waking up when you need to get them going, just dab a miniscule bit of this Devil's kiss on your finger and stick it in their snoozy little mouths. Then run.

Fortunately I have some sour cream on hand. It is a great soother when dealing with hot peppers and such. I dug my finger in that and stuck a nice dollop on my tongue. No time for fancy spoons and formalities. The cool thing is I could feel the flavor and heat even after that, but it wasn't hot in the way that burns your tongue, even though it was as potent as could be, and the effect that lasted was quite pleasant.

I will experiment with this in my ever evolving quest for non carnivore hermit dishes of incredible tastiness and artful display. I may even share such delights with wild-women, should they happen by, when the mood strikes. Or not.

I would say that one could use this french kiss of the devil regularly and not go through this 70 grams in five years. Maybe even ten. It does not appear to take much.

Another interesting thing is that it tends to do something to the palate that clarifies and enhances the flavor of a candy cane made by Tuck's. You eat the candy a few minutes later, although mixing the two at one go could be an interesting event. And Tuck's candy canes go well with popcorn made as it is best done--on the stove top.

I fear, if not for the sour cream, my tender senses may have run amok. As it was, the whole experience was enjoyable and leaves me eager to create some sort of Mexican tortilla extravaganza or another remarkable breakfast creation which you just can't get these days.

It certainly was nice of these crazy people to send such delights. I've never had the likes of either item. Quite dissimilar except that both fall in the food category, and both are extraordinarily high quality items. So, if you are in a quandary about what to get a non carnivore in the way of edible things, Tuck's candy and cattleprod-in-a-can from Spain.

This thing is going quicker than I had planned. I have to save some to go with espresso in the morning.

+++++Wait a minute!!! I investigated and it says this spice is smoked paprika!! Well my taste was kind of hottt, and now I'm confused. So, assuming it is all the fault of me being an ignorant non-carnivore, and maybe it is smoky and not hot, I just had to repeat the taste test. IT IS HOT! But I do now taste the smoky part and it is amazing. Thank God for sour cream, again.

Open Mic in Santee

Normally I'd be on the other side because I like to be able to see the guitar player's chord hand, but in these things you just kind of end up where you end up and don't waste time worrying with it.

Open mic at the coffee house/deli is not like open jams of the good old days. Mostly it is a little gathering of old codgers who socialize and like to play. They get up on stage, play and sing old folk songs, mostly, and then the next one gets up to do it.
There was a group consisting of three very dissimilar people who had something special.

The oldest guy, maybe 60ish played a big drum--one of those African things I think, kind of a tall drum. --, another guy, maybe 40ish, played a bass acoustic guitar, and the third guy, a Mexican looking guy about 25 played electric through a tiny VOX amp.
They were great, with an unusual sense of dynamics, how to make less be more. Total class, and great vocals.

Enough about them. Cliff, the other guitar player up on the hill--the one who has been around this area forever, and is quite the p[layer songwriter, and I played a few tunes.

The troube with open mic like this is that they can only let people play 15 minutes or they can't give everyone a shot. By the time we quit, I felt like I was yet to settle in. We only did three tunes--maybe 10 minutes. Since neither of us could see the time, Cliff figured don't risk being rude. Half the place knows him and wouldn't mind but it is good to be considerate.
However, it is like a tease situation. Kiss but don't touch.

Even so, it was worth doing. It gets a little notice and notoriety.

Tavernier Sort Of

I did not bring much in the way of photo recording devices so these few pics snatched from borrowed phone of intelligence will have to do.
One includes front of my car as proof that I was there. It is as much to affirm to myself that I didn't just imagine it as it is for any other purpose. I often wonder if I am in the real world or living in fantasy while actually languishing somewhere in a coma, or comma for that matter.

Ballistic Auto Tech Guide; part 1112012-the turn signal

Anyone who has bought a car, new or used, in the last fifty years probably has a vehicle which includes the turn signal option. They are standard on most street ready vehicles, or the original owner opted in on the popular turn signal and window option. The manufacturer generally ties in the option of having windows and windshield with directional signals.

If you are unsure, take a look behind the steering wheel to see if there are one or more sticks protruding from the steering column. I'm assuming here that the vehicle has a steering wheel of some kind.

Go ahead and start the car. Then move the lever up or down and see if a little indicator light blinks there by the speedometer. If this motion makes windshield wipers move, then look for another stick and try it. If you are still in doubt, move the stick to the up or down position, then step outside the vehicle and examine the front and back region where the lights reside to see if any of them are pulsing on and off. If so, then your car does indeed have this option. You may have to fool around with the stalks sticking out from the steering column until by trial and error you figure out what's what. Of course, I am guessing your vehicle came with lights in the front and rear.

Assuming it does, then it is wise to familiarize yourself with their use. Once you get it down, you will feel smug knowing that you are way ahead of 35% of the drivers in many parts of the country in this bit of automobile knowledge.

The use of the pulsing light--be sure to make the ones on the left pulse if you are changing course to the left, and the ones on the right when moving to the right--is most effective if you initiate such action prior to actually turning or changing lanes. It doesn't do that much good if you wait until you are turning or in the middle of the lane change to use the indicators. By that time people already know where you are going and can't do anything about it.

This item is also appropriately used if you are exiting a parking lot onto a thoroughfare. That way someone a hundred feet over entering the thoroughfare from the opposite side knows if you are likely to turn into him should the two of you choose to turn in a direction which puts you heading toward one another.

There are more situations than one might think in which the prudent use of the turn signal, in advance of changing course, can enable others to more safely navigate and plan for the future in such a manner that no one collides.

I realize this may sound like overkill to many drivers across the country, particularly among the sporty wannabe and gansta crowd, but studies will show that it is not. Actually a small period observing traffic should be enough to convince even the dimmest of wits.

Surprisingly, the habitual use of this undersung, underused piece of optional equipment is equally advisable for those driving colossal SUVs and pick up trucks of any size. I know, if you have a pick up that stands ten feet above the road, you think, why bother. But, again, careful study and analysis clearly points to the value of that extra effort to move the little lever in the proper direction, in advance of your change of direction.

I've spent many hours pondering why this silly automotive device is useful, and finally I came up with the answer. The reason one should operate the turn signal device whenever anyone else is around is because at least 85% of the population is unable to read minds, hence they are unlikely to pick up on your plans for the near future. The other 15% are generally busy reading the minds of others, so they, too, are unaware of what you are thinking at a given moment.

We'll cover lights another time, but for now, if it is dark, foggy or raining, turn them completely on. Not halfway because it is only half dark or a little rainy. Full on, or full off when the sled is moving. And, surprisingly, you can and should use turn signals as described, even if your lights are on. Incredible as that may sound.

I hope this public service bulletin proves helpful.

The Eye Nazi

There have been a few peculiarities in my ocular world for a couple of weeks or more. I was pretty sure it was not serious, but it seemed wise to consult professionals rather than guess, considering they had done some internal welding with lasers.

As it turns out, nothing is amiss, and some of the occurrences are normal or caused by external factors of unknown type and character.

Obtaining audience with such a professional was a peculiar journey. First I call and describe, to the best of my ability, what I am experiencing. Like the honey badger, the phone lady don't care. She'll have a tech call me back.

An hour or so later, a tech calls back; the eye nazi from a bad Chinese restaurant.

"You have flashing lights? YES OR NO!?" "So, it just bubble in eye!".

No, not a bubble, like suds look but two dimensional in peripheral vision, sometimes, etc.

"You have bubble? YES OR NO!? "
"What about light flash? YES!? NO?!"

Uh, well, I, uh.... The eye nazi has me on the ropes. I forgot what my problem was. She's getting pissed now and asking questions faster and louder.

I start just telling her what she wants to hear.

Yes. Lights flashing sometimes, and a big bubble come over eye.

"OK, we call Dr asdfkhasdfakh, you doctor out sick."

Maybe I should wait for my doctor.

HE SICK. DON'T KNOW WHEN HE COME BACK. WE CALL DR KJHLGHLHLKJ, AND IF HE WANT YOU IN TODAY CAN YOU GO DOWNTOWN NOW?! YES?! NO!?

OK.

A few hours later the other guy's office calls up. I was expecting some sort of punishment but they tricked me by being nice and seemed to know what I was saying--whatever that was.

As it turned out, the tech I knew and liked had been promoted to lead tech and as such was transfered to the downtown facility, and he's the one I drew by stroke of fate. His first day on new job, and I was his first patient. Definitely an A team sort of guy. That was reassuring, and all went well after that. Dr kshdfgkjhsd turned out to be rather sharp and probably did not get his degree by cheating.

If I go back to the other office in the future and draw the eye nazi, I fear she may poke my eye out if I don't say the right thing.

The sick part is, I started imagining what her love life must be like. "YOU DONE OR WHAT? YES OR NO!!," and many variations on that theme. Now that I think of it, the juxtaposition of this thought with "poke your eye out" kind of takes it to another dimension entirely.

OK. I quit while I can. It's been a swell visit, now I get out.

Questions I ask Myself; part 192012

Having skipped breakfast, I opted to have breakfast for dinner. After a couple of bites into the meal, I humbly asked myself, "What is your secret? I've never had better omelets and such anywhere else on earth, you, sir are a genius!"

"Aw shucks", myself replied, "I guess I'll tell you the secret; Richard's Delicious seasoning, and clever use of sour cream in the omelet goo, as well as spinach."

"Where can I get this Richard's Delicious seasoning?"

Myself, refused to say more than that you can get it in North Carolina, and that a full blooded Carnivore* is the one who introduced him to this unique mix.

This past Christmas I passed out a few bottles of the substance to carnivores around the country. It is hard to be taken seriously in such culinary circles when you are a vegetarian, yet you tell them to cook it into meat, fish and fowl. They are sure I have no hope of enriching their cuisine.

Fortunately a few people tried it more than once with favorable results. Down in the Florida keys my sister in law was feeding several people. OK. My brother helped some. One night they grilled roast beast burgers of some kind out on the gas grill. They tried the seasoning on that. It must have been good because I found out that she used Richard's Delicious seasoning in the cooking of the Christmas turkey which was heartily devoured by all save for myself.

Food things can often be like women's clothing---you can make some choices, if you buy clothes to give women, that in no way work out for the recipient. Seasoning is much cheaper and easier to hide so it doesn't really put people so much on the spot. Like if someone dropped off a lovely squid dinner, I'd immediately regift it or go driving down the hill and throw it off the side of the road somewhere. Fortunately no one would expect me to wear it.

I guess I doled out the Richard's because no one would expect it of me, and because I like it. They should all be on notice that if they don't care for it, I will gladly take the unused portion off their hands with no hard feelings.

It doesn't hurt my bias that I spoke to the people who make this stuff and I like them and the way they do business. I may become a traveling seasoning salesman selling Richard's delicious products. I'd only have to sell thousands and thousands of units to make it pay for the travel.

I should ask myself if this is a viable plan. Anyone who can create such an incredible breakfast for dinner would probably know.


* If I don't give Joel credit by name, he's liable to sue or put out a hit on me, so here it is.

Sometimes

..I love all of humanity, and that includes huwomanity. (for those in public school and the universal noun and pronoun challenged)
Sometimes, I hate them all. I know I really don't hate them all, but it is easier than assessing my many failures in life and my interactions with others allegedly of my species. I'd blame them for the wringer my heart has gone through for decades, but I guess it is m own doing. I'd much rather blame and hate. That is so much easier than looking at the truth.

What can you do? In spite of never being "home"--not sure when or where ever felt solidly like home--some people seem to appreciate what little I offer, while respecting my autonomy, boundaries, etc. Boundaries, autonomy, where one's rights end and begin are all totally foreign concepts to some people. I do not think such people are capable of understanding or embracing that sort of respect. Being an optimist, I place that group in the minority of Americans. Otherwise the whole country would be far more tilted toward unsavory pathologies than it is. Not a pretty thought.

It comes down to the simple truth that you cannot blame others for your choices.