I was having lunch when the first Thatcher joke hit my Twitter account and I thought I might do an obit detailing some weird Thatcher-related, fetishistic fantasy from my youth but I just couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for it (at least not the kind of enthusiasm the Brits, pro and con, seem capable of in their widely varied tributes). I already did Betty this honour, anyway.
After all, I lived through Reagan and have listened for years to nonsense about him ending the Cold War, making America great again, saving capitalism, etc, etc. Yet even though I have less direct experience than the locals do, my feelings for the Blue Lady are similarly visceral to those I have for Ronnie. Lord Byron, felt much the same about Castlereagh…so, I might do no better than to paraphrase the one’s tribute to the other, here:
‘The end result we finally see
Of Mammon over me and you.
Here sits the urn of Mrs. T:
Squat, brothers, and poo.’
……………………..
Okay, for you Philistines out there who keep asking…Byron penned this out of his great respect for the late Castlereagh and all he did for the Irish:
‘Posterity will ne’er survey,
A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveller, and piss.’ — Lord Byron
There was little exercise and fuck-all going out for anything aside from bare necessities this week as fever, aches, and blinding congestive pressure took hold. To have something new for the blog this week, I did what I always do when ill…I scanned the news. Here are some highlights from the week.
The Crufts Dog Show started this week and will continue for much of the next 8 months. I used to think that the BBC should dedicate a channel exclusively to darts, snooker, and Crufts but a friend pointed out that they already have one called BBC 2. It is interesting to see the odd breeds that have developed over the years, though.
Rest in peace, brother Chavez.
Once, me and Hugo were out drinking and, boy, could he put it away! I overdid it and puked all over myself, covering my shirt in filth. ”What am I going to tell Jackie? She hates when I embarrass myself in front of heads-of-state.”
Thinking quickly, Hugo stuffed a 20 peso note in my shirt pocket: “tell her a guy at the bar did this and gave you the note to pay for the cleaning.”
I got back to the hacienda and she hit the roof and I told her Hugo’s story at which point she calmed right down–Hugo was a genius of crisis control.
Then, Jackie said, “hey, Bun…why are there TWO twenties in your shirt?”
“Oh, that other one is from the guy that shit in my pants.”
North Korea severed musical relations with Seoul during the week. Here we see evidence of Pyongyang’s development of prohibited Boy Band Technology. Worrying though this may be, few experts believe that this is Da Bomb.
“Why is there so much wine left at the end of my money?” – Milan Maximovich, RIP
It was a nice run, this past 6 month tour of mostly cheap wines. As the last post of its type, I put links to the previous wine posts at the bottom of the page along with the list of wines on each of those posts. This was always in the plans, but especially helps fill out this post, shorter otherwise than the others.
Home after a hard day of failure and dismay, I didn’t feel like cooking with any imagination. We had a bottle of Shiraz Rosé and I paired it up with crap we had lying around: bell peppers which I stuffed with, essentially, meat loaves of beef, rice, cheddar, garlic, and green onions, then stewed in tomatoes and some rich beef broth.
Later in the week, things improved and we had some chicken breasts on salads with a very tarry Retsina. I usually don’t go for the pine resin wines unless I’m cooking something gamey and Greek and this was really an unfair pairing but the vinaigrette levelled the playing field a little.
Several days of wines I know we’ve shared with you passed then we were dry and I picked up a couple of nice ribeyes at Brian’s and a superb Côtes du Rhône at the market. This one had a bit more character and mineral tones than most of the CdR’s we have been experimenting with (approaching a mid-range Chateauneuf du Pape in depth and linger). I’ll get a case of this, soon.
The pizza dough I made for an early dinner leaked some of the topping juices and the stone slab I put in the oven for a baking surface cracked in half. I think I need to go to a cemetery monument place and just get a polished slab of marble to replace it, but it will take some research…this one was supposed to be much more robust. Speaking of robust, this is actually a pretty good box wine especially with spicy fare:
I returned from my work trip to Bremen (where I mostly had good wines quite cheaply in the carafe, reviewed as much as they might be, in one of the Bremen posts) to find no wine in the house so Saturday I replenished the stocks with 6 new bottles. We also are losing our butcher for 4 weeks as he and his wife are off for a cruise in the Med; we stocked up on yummy morsels and I had a wee cooking fest using some of the overly salted bacon (cured there) as pancetta to flavour (along with garlic) some wilted spinach and watercress:
The main attraction, though, was the standing rib roast; this was seared for twenty minutes at 225 deg C then cooked to an internal ‘rare’ temperature in an oven reduced to 150 C. Left to rest for the 25 minutes the potatoes (coated with goose fat) needed to roast to perfection, everything was lovely entirely as it was BEFORE we corked the bottle of grenache/syrah/carignan with the heavy blackberry flavours. The beef cut with the dull side of a fork, the potatoes were fluffy inside but crusty without, and the greens were bitter, salty, and ever-so-slightly metallic (like they should be). The wine stood its ground, too: heavy in the mouth, complimentary to the still bleeding beef, and complementary to the mild spices in the veg while as complex in the fore- as the after-taste.
Like most of the wines (with rare exceptions) this one was inexpensive-to-cheap but turned out to be a successful choice for the simple meals I prepare around the house. A very nice way to end this series of posts!
June wines in this posting were:
Ryan Shiraz Rose
Kourtaki Retsina of Attica
Perrin Nature Cotes du Rhone
Fab Cab Cabernet-Shiraz
Languedoc Grenache Syrah Carignan
Heidsieck Monopole
Marselan
Cellier des Princes Cotes du Rhone Villages
Hardy’s Shiraz
Barbera d’Asti
Piccini Montepulciano d’Abruzzo
Montoya Brut Cava
Gran Conti
Berberana Rioja
Barefoot Sauvignon Blanc
Piccini Memoro
Calloway Crossing Cabernet/Shiraz
Marques de Carano
Promenade Cotes du Rhone
Tesco Simply Chianti
………………………………………………… “Or, any other reason why”: Wine February 2012:
Tesco Simply Shiraz (box)
Chateau La Rose Videau 2006
Camplazens Marselan
Jacktone Ranch Cabernet Sauvignon
Long Country Merlot
Marques de Amba
Faustino Rivero
Le Preare Valpolicella
Torretta di Mondelli Pinot Grigio
La Casita Shiraz
Colpasso Nero d’Avola
Lagunilla Rioja
Chateau Poujeaux Moulis en Medoc (1999)
Gran Artizan Syrah
Wines from France Cab Sav
Stork’s Landing Pinot Noir Shiraz
Wines from France Chard
Mondelli Chianti
Graham Beck Railroad Red
Stowell’s Shiraz Mataro
………………………………………………… “I cook with wine…” Wine March 2012 A:
First Cape Cabernet Sauvignon
Mondelli Montepulciano d’Abruzzo
Le Parimoine Côtes du Rhône Villages
Sainsbury’s Côtes du Rhône
Blossom Hill Shiraz Grenache
………………………………………………… Two dramatic features: Wine March 2012 B :
Linoti Pinot Grigio
Famiglia Terraccio Chianti
Monte Nobile Squinzano Riserva
McGuigan Grenache Shiraz Mourvedere
Unico Brindisi Riserva
………………………………………………… Living partners: Wine March 2012 part D:
Chateau de l’Estang Cotes de Castillon
Villa Taurini Barbero
Famiglia Terraccio Chianti Riserva
Blaxland Shiraz
Zalze Shiraz Mouvedre Viognier
………………………………………………… Wise guy, eh?: Wine, April Part A:
Namaqua Shiraz
Leopard’s Leap CabSav-Merlot
Hardy’s Cab Sav
Ancora Sangiovese at Fratellos
McWilliam’s Markview Shiraz
Bergerac CabSav-Merlot
Ocean’s Edge Pinot Noir
La Métropole Red
Vinedos Barrihuelo Rioja
Les Epillets Macon Rouge
La Châsse Chardonnay
………………………………………………… Days of laughter and running: Wine April Part B:
Roc de Lussac Saint Emilion with seared steaks
WfF Cotes du Rhone with curry-esque spag-bol
Tierra Antica Cabernet Sauvignon at the Dragon Castle, London
Rosso Sanleo at La Dolce Vita, London
Vini d’Autore Montepulciano d’Abruzzo at Bizarro Italian, London
Piccini Chianti Riserva
Pone Veneto and Shyraz (cooking only…foul)
Marques de Carano Gran Seleccion
La Chasse Cotes du Rhone.
………………………………………………… Ideas, things, and…Wine for May Part 1:
Rey de Copas La Mancha
Rio Vida Airen Sauvignon Blanc
Rib Shack Red
Battlefield Sauvignon Blanc
Battlefield Cab Sav
McGuigan Cab Sav
Milford Point Sauvignon Blanc
Moondarra Shiraz
Louis Jadot Beaujolais Villages
………………………………………………… Getting a taste for it — Wines for May Part 2:
Tesco Finest Chianti Riserva
Ravens Wood Zinfindel
Voor Paardeberg Roussanne
La Pradera Monastrell
Villa Cafaggio Chianti Classico
McWilliams Chardonnay
Mondelli Chianti
Inycon Grillo
Mundella Shiraz
Sainsbury’s Marzemino
Prestige de Calvet Bordeaux
………………………………………………… Improving with age: Wine May Part 3:
Sainsbury’s Cava
Marchais Merlot
Lindeman’s Cabernet
Antichi Borghi Chianti
Sierra Salinas
Rawnsley Chardonnay
And, a host of anonymous house wines, a liter at a time.
………………………………………………… Say, ‘yes,’ to: Wine June Part 1 :
Terres de Galets Cotes du Rhone
Tesco Ryan Shiraz Rose
Garland Crest Grenache Rose
Calloway Crossing Shiraz Rose
Isla Negra Cabernet Sauvignon Rose
Bodega Monte Real Malbec Shiraz
Reserve de Bonpas Cotes du Rhone
Blaxland Shiraz
Tesco Simply Rose
Wines from France Bordeaux Superieur
Edizione Sette Otto Nove Pinot Grigio
Sainsbury’s Montepulciano
I have been here to the Maybush three times and at each just missed the brief period it has been open for business on a regular basis. The word at the Black Horse and the Bell (earlier on this run) is that no one can make a go of it because of the flooding of the Thames but the Rose Revived across the was does just fine. There must be something more as both of these pubs have histories going back centuries. Fortunately, I brought a can of beverage along just in case and hope that the Maybush may revive soon, as well.
At the corner of Pavenhil and Dogridge I finally found the Royal George in the midst of my Sunday run but was really disappointed to find that the place appears to, once again, have gone out of business (like the woman at the Angel suggested on my Thanksgiving Day run last year). A pity.
I ran back into the village and bought a Carling to rack up another 100/100 tick and to properly salute this old Lazurus, hoping it will, once more, return to us.
When I packed for the run I loaded my flask with bourbon in the event that one of the pubs on my loop were, sadly, shuttered. This didn’t happen, happily, but upon leaving the third one of the day I was incapable of reading my map and missed a cross-road that would have foreshortened the journey. Instead, I veered off to Liddington before turning back downhill toward the Great Western Hospital. On my left through the mist the Sun appeared…the Sun Inn, that is.
I don’t think it has been closed long, but it has become decrepit in that period. There are nice views out the back, where I huddled with my flask for the obligatory salute. You look out toward the hills to the south and completely miss the motorway down in the hole, although you can hear it. Too far from a junction, this country inn probably just didn’t get enough traffic to survive. RIP.
Americans, like myself, spent much of the past week playing a macabre version of Six Degrees of Separation…I was loading luggage for a trip to Scotland when the first plane hit, but my closest real connection was my boss’s neighbour who lost his son, daughter-in-law and grandkids to the Pentagon flight. Very depressing.
{New photo added 13 November–Happy Remembrance Sunday from a US War Veteran!)
In the endless and inescapable coverage of the tenth anniversary of the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks this past week a couple of items are glaringly missing. The first is any mention (in the US coverage) of the many souls that took control of their destiny and jumped from the towers. Many. In Channel 4 documentary “The Fireman’s Tale,” we heard how they fell like rain exploding on impact with the ground, with a Volkswagen, or with the first fireman to die on the scene. The horror of the situation faced by these folks should be publicised especially the triumph of their will…these people faced certain death and chose their fate from limited possibilities.
The second odd thing missing in the analyses is any mention of Oklahoma City, similar or greater in scale to the September 11 attacks considering the victim-to-perpetrator ratio. It is probably inconvenient in these days when everyone who does the job they signed onto is considered a hero to remind us that Timothy McVeigh was a decorated Gulf War veteran…hero, indeed. Addendum after many comments: There is nothing especially heroic in professionalism; you train for the job and are expected to perform when called upon and in exchange for this responsibility you can expect reasonable compensation and some protection for your next of kin should anything go dreadfully and unpredictably awry. Professionalism is usually admirable but it is not heroism, not selfless in a pure and uncalculating way even if it is performed instinctually and without any thought to the benefits (however meager) that shall be reaped. [An aside to any terrorists taking solace in this interpretation: heavenly rewards are still payment for services rendered.]
Back to the normal drunken/running/tourism ramblings shortly. At least I waited until the presentation of the catastrophe’s mythology was finished, though.
No one talks about 4-20 anymore (except pot heads)
The kids got married, Americans were quite embarrassing on tele, and Prince Phillip stayed alert (my bet failed) and as far as we know he didn’t hit on any of the bridesmaids. We went to the Glue Pot for a celebratory drink and found that the topic was off limits…fair enough, we are all sick to death of it [and as of this writing that is still the best aspect of Bin Laden's assassination: it knocked wedding post-mortems off the news]:
We didn’t get out in time to go to a street party, which is fine. We also missed Rock against the Royals at the Victoria, also just fine.
Owsley died in a car wreck near his home in Australia a few days ago. A fan of his work since my first chip of Dead family acid in the early 80′s made the pages and pages of blotter I had swallowed up to that point irrelevant, I mourn his loss as should all of you. If we had 500 mg of this stuff in the freezer today, Jackie and I would be set for the next 20 years (that’s 1000 Saturdays X 2 people X 250 μg/person) . Any offers?
Addendum: From Foo’s email to the jHavelina listserv…”BusJobs service will be held on Monday Nov. 15, 2010 at the OLD Ft.Huachuca cemetary on post at 1000.” I know it will be a suitably large turnout.
Bus Job (left) and Papa Don't Peek at Meet Rack, 30 Pack Marathon, 2008
Police are still investigating the suspicious circumstances, but most of us that knew him believe that this is merely a case of HRI (hashing related injuries). If it is–and I hope that is how it turns out because as annoying as he could be, Bus Job was also one of the gentlest souls and warmest hearted friends you could ask for–it is probably how he would have hoped to go, dead on trail.
Tucson and Sierra Vista are harsh places and I don’t expect visit them anytime in the near future, but do hope to go for a visit at some point. Bussy’s absence will make any visit all the more bleak.
Here is a snippet of video from the first 30 Pack Marathon, where you can have a peak at Bus Job at his finest (first bit, before the stills of Bearded and Bavarian):
Somewhere in my attic, and I’ll scan it when I find it after the move, I have a Cristmas card scrawled in this pathetic bastard’s crippled scrawl that he sent from Murfreesboro Tennessee in 1984 or 1985, with the above inscription in crayon:
As he said to me a few days after a mutual friend blew his head all over a bedroom wall in Griffin Georgia, “I guess he just couldn’t cut it.”
Vic Chesnutt–whose only talent appeared to be milking his paralysis for a rudimentary amount of fame (most famous quote I can remember, “you can’t do this to me…I’m a cripple,” led me to believe that the first phrase we should learn in a foreign language is “you can’t do this to me I’m an American”).
Like his most recent, and final, adventure he attained the endowed Pity Fuck Chair in the Department of Athens Musicology, Flagpole College, 40 Watt University, by a failed suicide attempt at the end of a night of drinking especially heavily two nights before I left for the Army in 1983 (by driving his car into a ditch and not the apparent target, a manufactured home just inside Hwy 19/41 on his way “home”).
Not very talented, and spouting juvenile lyrics built around a likewise manufactured mystique as thin and transparent as a colostomy bag, he finally has completed the act. That so many talented musicians flocked to play on the stage with him still baffles, and you could often get them to play up to their potential (leaving their little Ironsides in the performance dust) by heckling Vic. Like now.
RIP, or whatever, go fuck yourself. Here are some more, early obituaries.
I was having lunch when the first Thatcher joke hit my Twitter account and I thought I might do an obit detailing some weird Thatcher-related, fetishistic fantasy from my youth but I just couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for it (at least not the kind of enthusiasm the Brits, pro and con, seem capable of in their widely varied tributes). I already did Betty this honour, anyway.
After all, I lived through Reagan and have listened for years to nonsense about him ending the Cold War, making America great again, saving capitalism, etc, etc. Yet even though I have less direct experience than the locals do, my feelings for the Blue Lady are similarly visceral to those I have for Ronnie. Lord Byron, felt much the same about Castlereagh…so, I might do no better than to paraphrase the one’s tribute to the other, here:
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