PROXIMITY AGGRADATION

 

Proximity Aggradation

It has not escaped me that my life mimics stratigraphy.  The Observation: The piles in my office are taller the closer they lie to my computer and where I sit.   This observation, I have termed proximity aggradation – it is defined as “a process, where by aggradation will be more intense  the closer a site is to the source material”, in this case me.

My office. Do not judge me.

Proximity and thickness of a pile are certainly not a measure of quality.  The material is not more valuable if it is more proximal.  To the contrary, I actually think that composite value of a pile grows as it moves further away from the source.  The material in the largest piles (ie., closest to your computer and you) is just more recent.  Often these thick aggradational piles are stratified oldest to youngest. At some point the thick, proximal pile will be “reworked”, “sorted” and “redistributed” in to piles further from the source, and at that point the more distal piles are actually possibly of better quality.

At some point, the distal piles will be examined for meaning and redistributed in to the trash if they are found useless.  Sometimes they are reworked and relocated more proximal. (second cycle!)  This continual movement of piles to more proximal locations might be a form of transgressive reworking but I am not ready to go there yet.

Mountain Pig out.

CORONA-CATION DAY…..hmm, 62 (Seriously): Uncle Irvin

My Uncle Irvin Balloun passed last week.  He was 85. Born June 29, 1934, he woulda been 86 his year, same age as my own Dad.  Uncle Irvin was a piece of work, a great piece of work who would drive out to the house and visit when Sue and I came to town. Stepping up to the door in his signature Overalls and Converse, the latter of which served as his one shout out to personal panache in his life, he would visit for an hour to catch up.  We would check in on his latest exploits, his “friends”, etc..

He was deeply engaged in important changes in lives around him.  Days of Our Lives was not to be missed.  A couple of weeks ago Irvin told his granddaughter Kayla, “Kayla, I know this virus is scary and bad, and I’m so sorry for what I’m about to say, but I really need the governor to stop interrupting Days of Our Lives.”  The thought that a pandemic would take precedent over friends that had been a part of your life since 1965, “…the lives, loves, triumphs and tragedies of the Horton, Brady, Kiriakis, Hernandez and DiMera families” must have seemed ridiculous.

I have NO idea how my Aunt Sharon and Irvin met.  I can remember my fascination with him.  His missing finger!  OMG!  He always had some story about how he lost his finger (bit off by a catfish, shot it off huntin’ rabbits).  In truth, I assume he lost it in a carpentry accident since he was an amazing carpenter, but the thought of losing a finger to a 9 year old was stunning!  

I can remember on Sunday afternoons, when we were all cleaning up the dishes from my Grandma Green’s Sunday dinner (that happened at noon), Irvin would pull up in this green, sparkle-paint dune buggy.  He was like that weird-haired guy on Speed Racer....but without the hair.  He would take everyone “down to the sand bars” on the Arkansas River and ride around.   He was a unique presence in our lives.  Irvin was a father to my cousin Robin, and the quality of person that she is today is a testament to her mom and dad, and her own hard, work, stubbornness and spouse’s support.  I know that Irvin was immensely proud of her and her accomplishments.

When I called my Dad on Thursday to tell him that Irvin had passed, he was surprised. “Well I thought Irvin was healthy!  He seemed healthy.”  If you think that teenagers think that they are invincible you should talk to some 80 year old country dudes.  They can’t figure why someone would die unless they had “the cancer” or a load of pulpwood fell on them.  My Dad conveyed a story to me that was interesting and I convey it here.

“See Irvin was in the same grade as me, except he was put back a year cause he couldn’t afford to go to school his senior year.” How’s that Dad? “Well, after World War II the schools didn’t have enough money so people had to pay tuition to go.  Irvin’s parents could only afford to send one of their kids so they sent Lillie Jo and Irvin stayed home.” This simple story is a testament to 1) how much people of Irvin’s generation worked to be successful and 2) how weak and whinny we have all become over the past 86 years.  If the US Government told people that they would have to pay a tuition for their kids to go to public school next year, they would have armed mutiny on their hands.  Oh yea, they already do.  No wonder Irvin was more interested in how Horton’s and Brady’s were fairing than the Trumps and Bidens.

"and so are the Days of Our Lives."

Mountain Pig…out.

CORONA-CATION DAY 41: And you thought he was just your 'run-of-the-mill' idiot

 CORONA-CATION DAY 41: And you thought he was just your “run of the mill” idiot.

I have tried desperately to stay away from politics in this blog, not just in this blog, but every day.  However, it has become so absurd that I just can’t help myself.  I will shout out here to a friend of Sue’s, Joel, who recognized Trump’s genius (I can no longer bear to call him The President) following his most recent Daily Press Fiasco (DPF, scientists love acronyms).  In the DPF he called for us to use UV light to kill the COVID virus, 

hoping not so secretly that Nancy Pelosi would be similarly affected by said UV, and he gave a little bonus by suggesting that we might take a page from the drug dealers handbook of torture and inject ourselves with cleaning solution to “cleanse our bodies” of said virus.  The later has religious overtones.   Joel recognized Trump’s genius immediately, noting that he is really pulling from the Star Trek Handbook on Infestation Control.

In the Star Trek original series episode Operation – Annihilate! The planet Denevan are under attack by a neural parasite which attaches itself to victims and causes them through intense pain to do their bidding.  Kinda like what must happen to a Trump Pandemic Task Force medical member to force them to stand, as a professional and witness the idiocy of “hey I’m just saying I got talent so I have these ideas….” every day. 

Short of it was that Spock (the Fauci of the Starship Enterprise) was infected and suffered immense pain, which he of course could control using his Vulcan mind.  They used UV light on Spock to drive the parasite from his body, but it blinded him (this eventually all got sorted out, the dangers of employing a cure without proper testing).

Fauci-Spock endures this type of pain every day, you can see it on his face.  Unlike Spock he does not have an inner eyelid to save him from being blinded if we were to use UV light to “kill the parasite”.  So the parasite just drones on and on, every day. Until, like on Denevan, the pain becomes too much and Fauci-Spock goes on Fox and Friends and does the parasite’s bidding.  Sad.

We could, as has been suggested by the parasite, inject cleaning solution in our veins to “cleanse us from this virus”.  Wow, let’s unpack that.  I actually searched this out because I thought “surely they have taken this out of context”. Nope, they did not.  He actually said this with a straight face.  My suggestion might be for Trump to make a show of faith and offer to be the first person to test this cure. Maybe he could try Kool-Aid.  It has been done before.

I don’t even know what to say about this, except that I do think Trump IS treating this like a reality TV show, and we are too stupid to just turn it off, preferring as so many people do to watch the absurdity and continue to allow him the ratings that he will use to drum up votes in November.   As for me, I am just going to not watch such a ridiculous farce.  Just turn it off. 

Mountain Pig….Out.

CORONA-CATION DAY 37: Corona-cookin'

CORNA-CATION DAY 37: Corona-cookin’

My Granny made awesome chicken and dumplins.  I got about 23 before I realized that,  if I was going to have my Granny’s cookin or anyone’s for that matter, all my life, then I had better get on tryin’ to figure out how they made important things like…well chicken and dumplins, squirrel gravy and biscuits, but also cinnamon rolls.  OMG!  My Granny made insane cinnamon rolls!  I know at least that they were yeast bread cinnamon rolls, huge – 3 or 4 inch diameter sugar-glazed, full of butter and cinnamon sugar.  Wow, well lucky for me I could get that recipe or I would be 400 pounds.  My Aunt Emmelene, my Granny’s daughter had no idea how she made them.  All she would tell me is “She probably had a recipe off a Martha White Self-Risin Flour bag.” My Aunt Helen and my mom were just as clueless as to how she cooked most of what she did. They had their own secrets, an unspoken pack to keep them close to the chest I think.  

I asked my Granny one time “Granny what is your recipe for chicken and dumplin’s?”.  I was armed and ready with paper and pad.  She was sitting by the fireplace in her rocker, and she leaned over and said, “Well you get an old hen,….”, at this point I was writing frantically, and I said “an old hen?  Does it have to be old or can it be young and how do you tell the difference?!?”, and she said “Well, I guess old hens have more fat so I reckon it does matter.”  This was my first realization that this old timey cookin’ was a science, born of generations of living on the land and living on what you grew on the land.  Recipes were passed down and if you wanted to do them right, you better pay attention to the details.  ‘Ok old fat hen, not young lean hen.’

My granny made squirrel gravy and cat head biscuits every weekend.  This was a backwood’s Arkansas delicacy that my wife, when she was still my southern California-born girlfriend, was leery of even considering, but when my sweet Granny put a plate in front of her, she could not imagine disappointing.  After some tentative tasting, Sue dug into that plate like it was the finest thing she could think about passing her morning lips.   I asked my Granny for the recipe and she said “You get a squirrel, usually it is a slow one.” And then she smiled as I wrote this down. “You skin it, clean it, split it in to quarters, and par boil it.  Then you roll it in some salt and pepper flour and fry it up.  Set it on a plate with a paper towel, then get some flour and you see you use the fry grease and scrapin’s to make a paste like.  Then you use the water u par boiled the squirrel in and make a gravy.”  I had a hand cramp. This was so simple and yet so elegant.  I made this dish for my students a couple of years ago.  One told me that the wing was his favorite part.  Another said she liked it because it was organic and sustainable.  Not your typical crowd-around-the-trough compliments but I took ‘em.

Today, during day 37 of Corna-cation,  I made Red Cabbage.  I had a recipe that I had draaaaawn out of Sue’s Aunt Millie, or Tante Moni, as she was known before she passed.  It was tough to get.  I had to wait until happy hour, when Tante had taken in just the right amount of Manhattens.  She actually wrote it in her own hand, well it WAS happy hour hand writing so it is a bit hard to read, but I feel lucky to have it.  The very first line says “Cabbage 1# or whatever…”?!?!?  I mean, what is that supposed to mean, or whatever?!  My mom was more specific with her recipes.  

She doesn’t just say “add oil” , she calls it out “Add Wesson Oil”.  She was doing recipe inheritance for dummies.

Whatever you cook tonight, make it like you mean it.

Mountain Pig…out.

CORONA-CATION Day 35: Whaaaat?!? Corona-refugia

I can't believe that I have been "sheltering in place" for 35 days.  I believe I will be a better person when I emerge, but that will not be soon.  Personal choice.

So there is a theory on the biodiversity of the Amazon called Refugia Hypothesis.  Put simply it says that the incredible biodiversity that we see today in the Amazon jungle is a product of millions of years of the Amazon basin transitioning back and forth between a large lake with various islands and a big river drainage.  See as the Andes popped up, they would periodically weigh down the western side of South America and tilt the continent to the west, causing all the drainage to cease and form a big interior lake called Lagos Amazonas.  All the critters would run to the islands, sort of like Carnival in the Caribbean and party their heart’s out, drinking, “engaging” and ….well, bio-diversifying like crazy.  

When erosion released the weigh on the western margin of South America, the continent would “rebound” or pop back up and the proto-Amazon River would drain the continent and Party Over! All the newly diverse populations of critters would disperse out into the larger forest, all hung over from their refugia experience.  Spring Break on a massive scale.

I predict similar refugia-driven diversification of culture when corona-cation is over.  

Here we set on our little island’s of culture, taking MASTER CLASSES, doing puzzles, reading absurd amounts, surfing the internet for obscure definitions and topics like “Amalfi Coast Italy”, just waiting for the proverbial “lake to drain” so that we can go across the street and tell our neighbors “Did you know that the Amalfi coast was controlled by the Principality of Salermo, until it was sacked by the Republic of Pisa in 1137?”. 

When we blow off back into the virus-reduced, curve-flattened world, what will we add to the diversity of the world? Maybe we have been honing our dog-walking skills (“if you hold the leash with your left hand, then you can raise the glass of wine without worrying if your dog will spill it”), or our reality TV knowledge (“it was clear that he was never going to choose her because she loved him too much”) or our ZOOM skills (“you can put up a cool picture of the beach so people will thing that you are zooming from – the – beach! Seriously!”). Still yet, maybe this experience as truly solidified our political leanings.  Better yet, maybe it is not what you bring to the jungle, but what you bring to the refugia within which you exist.  After all, there are some critters that chose to stay on the island, preferring it to the rest of the world.  As we become more and more saturated with TV, social networking and TED Talks, honestly, my refugia is looking better every day.

Mountain Pig …. Out.

CORONA-CATION DAY 22: Free stuff

While posting to the SAND twitter site on how great my two graduate students are who successfully defended their doctoral dissertation (Dr. Sebastian Cardona) and master thesis (Alden Griffin, MS), I came across this tweet. “In partnership with @UnitedWay we’re donating $1 milllion and 1 million rolls of #toiletpaper to help those who need it most.  And if you post how you are able to #ShareASquare, we’ll donate $1 through June 1 (up to $100,000) #Cottonelle.”  Wow.  I am not going to dis the effort here, but there is soooo much here that it deserves unpacking.

Number one, “…in partnership with United Way”.  Let’s start with the positive, so I am not sure who at Cottonelle decided that United Way was the perfect partner for this, but come to find out UW IS a good place to donate.  It spends ~94% of every dollar donated to services for the communities it serves so good on ya UW.  But maybe they could just dump it on the nursing homes.  There are ~ 15,600 nursing homes in the US.  That is 64 rolls of toilet paper for every nursing home in America.  Just one suggestion.

Number two, “…what the heck is Share a Square”!?!? Wow. What marketing ZOOM meeting generated that.  That just seems almost illegal in its connotations.  I mean, we are in the middle of a social distancing crackdown, and people are “sharing a square”?!  I am gonna let someone else tell me how that works.

And finally, number three, “…to help those who need it most.”  So what do you think might be the criteria by which they decide “…those who need it most”.  In an effort to make such choices fair and balanced (I can’t believe I said that) maybe they could use an excellent piece of research that was done by my doctoral student to assess submarine landslide “risk of failure” and assess TP gifts on the basis of potential to fail, because regarding the need for toilet paper, nobody wants to find themselves in a “failure” situation.   So let’s define the key variables that can help us risk “…those who need it most.”

I have come up with the following list and reasons why I have included it.  You can certainly modify at will, but someone had to start somewhere.

--AGE (Impacts the ability to shop early)
--PROXIMITY TO A WALMART
--INCOME (Ability to purchase TP on the blackmarket)
--CHILDREN  (Multiply need by about 37X for each child, or 57X for each child under 5 yrs of age - the snotty nose threshold, or for each male child over 13.  I'm just saying...).
--CATS (Will play with and destroy TP)
--TEEN AGE GIRLS (BRA STUFFING, still needed during social isolation due to quality of laptop cameras)
--HISTORY OF HOARDING (ALREADY HAVE 200 ROLLS IN THE GARAGE LOCK OFF. You know who you are!)
--MEXICAN OR INDIAN FOOD CONSUMPTION (I will just let that one lie there with no further explanation).
--VEGETARIANS (see item above).

So if we take all these and put them in a visual tool. (Forgive me Sebastian, but you did say this morning that you felt your major contribution was “…the methodology and the broad application thereof” J.)  See results below. 

I am prepared to provide this tool free of charge to Cottonelle because a gift like this should not be left to chance.

Mountain Pig…out.

CORONA-CATION DAY 21: Coronaccomplishments

The other morning, after firing up my laptop and staring at the same gray blob on my login page for a year, you know the one, 

I decided to put a “Sue and Les Selfie” in the little sign-on circle on my laptop instead of the upside down “U” with a “head”.   

This felt like an amazing accomplishment. It got me wondering during this forced “honey-do” time what other accomplishments I was failing to acknowledge.  So I decided I needed a list of them, so that when it came time for “Corono-cation Performance Evaluation (CPE)” I could properly revise my resume. In addition, as with all PEs I need to classify these by contribution levels ie., significant, moderate or minor.  So here we go:

• Realized that one did not need to take a bath once a day, but once a week was good (data on this one is still being collected and analyzed).  Yes I do consider that an accomplishment, it could change my life. Potentially, Significant.,

• Organized and cleaned out the area underneath the sinks and vanity (actually Sue was the lead on this but since we are a team, everyone knows that in 360 evaluations this counts). I now have shampoo and conditioner in single servings for about four weeks. Minor.

• Planted cucumbers, lettuce, peas (only things that will grow in the cold).  Potentially Significant. This is actually an upcoming accomplishment but everyone knows that when you revise your resume you list your “in review” accomplishments, planning to accomplish by the time CPE actually happens.

• Went through the “cookbook area” because it had become “an area” with bits of recipes and papers, etc. and cleaned it out (also a team accomplishment, but that led to other things – see below). Minor.

• Cooked a bunch of stuff that I had forgotten I had recipes to, like Soba Noodles with Chicken and Peanut Sauce.  Moderate.

• Took the Chiweenie for a walk – shocked the neighborhood (that was a twofer).  Significant for the Chiweenie.  Moderate for me. Minor for the neighborhood.

• Restarted my Blog. Significant for the entire world, obviously. 
• Had tenure approved (that felt like giving birth so I include it here). Significant.
• Set up account to start new stock investments, because stock are so low that you need a spatula to scrape them off the investment pavement (also a team success).  Potentially Significant. 

• Decided to call my Dad 2-3 times a week and to email him once a day. Significant.  I mean, what a poor child I have been.  Phone calls are free.  Emails are free.  Why would you not talk with the person who has enabled your entire life several times a week.? Call your parents. 

• Went through today and calculated the extent of our toilet paper holdings, and how long we can hold out with our current supply (Results will be conveyed on Monday). Significant.

I know that this list will grow.  I would already, under self evaluation, give myself a Top 10% for Corona-cation survival.  Hey! I hear you guys!  Haters gonna hate.  If you wanna run with the big dogs the you better pick up your Corona-cation game.  We got a long way to go here.

Mountain Pig...out.

CORONA-CATION DAY 19: Pandemic: The Game

Pandemic:  The Game

Have you noticed that nobody seems to care much about what the Kardashians are doing, or maybe I never cared and it just SEEMS like nobody cares that Kim and ….whatever other K daughter she is fighting with are going at it.  I mean that is some ridiculous stuff.  Watching the Kardashians is kinda like going to church.  When you are five or six, you go to church because your mom wants you to go to church and you don’t really know why you are going except you get free cookies and punch afterwards.  I always went to Vacation Bible School for the cookies, but I digress.  Your mom thinks if she can sit you in church for long enough then it will dawn on you that you really need to be there. I don’t go to church now.  Nobody goes to church at five or six because you are filled with the Holy Spirit.  You go for the cookies.  Similarly, you don’t watch the Kardashians when you are pre-teen because you “understand the nature of their relationship and can see it reflected in your own life!”  Nope, you watch it for the cookies.

What are people doing to pass their time if they are not watching the Kardashians?  Sue bought us this game. Pandemic.   It came via Amazon, I mean doesn’t everything?   I was skeptical, but it is an awesome game!  Let me tell you, you play one round of Pandemic and you will FULLY understand the situation we are in.  People in Florida want to go to church so Miami has an “outbreak”.  You quell Los Angeles into submission and those F---in’ people in Miami, ALLLL with a desire to get to heaven, spread the virus to Atlanta on a Church Revival and boom!  So it becomes quite apparent that everyone has to focus on eliminating the various contagions or we are all going to hell in a handbasket.

Me, being the Researcher, I was able to share information but I was not a Scientist.  The Scientist could cure a contagion with only four city cards instead of five (That bitch thinks she is such hot stuff!).  I really just wanted to work with the Quarantine Specialist because I thought she was hot. Sue, being a dispatcher was …well, doing her best but mostly telling people about stuff. But working together we did our best and eventually quelled the contagions.  Then we figured out that we missed a few infections and BOOM, game on!  It was pretty frustrating to see Delhi go down like that, but there were whole cities that we ignored to focus on Milan. Those Italians should appreciate us. I know, I sound like Donald J. Trump, only I am not running for re-election and using a pandemic to leverage votes. Except for that slimy difference, yep virtually similar.

I highly recommend this game, but you probably need more than one person to play it.  I am not encouraging socializing.  The rare few of you who can channel multiple personalities can play it … alone I guess. Or you can all download the Kim Kardashian video game and go that direction.

Mountain Pig…out.

CORONA-CATION DAY 18: Shopping in the Time of Pandemic

No it is not, Love in the Time of Cholera, but it is damn close.

Sue came back from a walk with our neighbors Tania and Dana yesterday and said “I am worried about Tania and Dana.  Neither of them have any toilet paper.”  This concerned me too, for the obvious reason of where this failure to provide for their own families could lead.  “I would give the some of our,” she said “but what if we need it!”  I told Sue that I had noticed several boxes of Kleenex in the grocery when I was there, and I should have snagged them some. Sue could not believe that I had passed up Kleenex boxes. I had to promise that I would never make such a mistake again. Truly Sue would give the toilet paper off her….roll to her friends if they needed it.

The next day, I saw Dana getting packages out of her car on my morning walk with Cali, and she excitedly told me that she had been to CostCo and found all that she needed.  She pronounced it “A good day!”

This foraging behavior is a fascination to me.  Things that we would not have given a passing glance to finding a month ago, now are praised upon our return from hunting like we have just snagged meat to feed the tribe for the entire winter.  I walked in from the grocery last Sunday, began unpacking and Sue said “Ohhh! You found egg noodles!” and I did a small dance around the kitchen island singing “Tuna – Noodle – Casserole – ugh! Tuna – Noodle – Casserole – ugh!” with a twist of the hip to accentuate my excitement. Life was good. I felt like Laura Ingalls Wilder, when Pa returned with wood for the fire so they could survive another winter in Plum Creek, Minnesota!  God. 

Sue had to run in to Home Depot (which is next to the WalMart in Evergreen).  I stayed in the car, apparently she has decided that I am the old and weak of the family and, like my Grandmother, I am encouraged now to “just stay in the car, I will run in”.  Anyway, I am sitting there and I see a woman come running down the paved embankment with a WalMart shopping cart full to the brim, including a large package of Kirkland, Big Roll, two-ply.

She was apparently afraid that someone would mug her for it, so she was movin’!  She crosses paths with another woman with a Home Depot cart going the opposite direction, who gasps and says, in my best English accent “Where on Earth did you find that toilet paper?!?!” To which the first woman, eyes the English Lady warily and says “It is on the shelf at the WalMart, but you better hurry.  There is very little left!!”  The English Lady then cranks her cart up in to fourth gear and runs up the paved embankment to try and score some Kirkland TP’.  Wow.  Has it really come to this degree of pitifulness?

 

We finished our walk yesterday and on the way up the hill, Cali chased a rabbit, which pretty much left her in the dust.  “Oh well, no dinner tonight”, I said and we walked dejectedly up to the house,…but there is always Tuna Noodle Casserole.

Mountain Pig....out. 

CORONA-CATION DAY 17: Amazon has us right where they want us, with our credit cards out.

Amazon has America by the balls, at least those of us that still have some. 

They are continuing to ship us anything we need while were are under house seclusion.  If they strike, we will give them anything they ask for to keep up the flow of puzzles, games, food, movies --- basically everything moving freely!!  When I walk down the road with my dog, there are Amazon boxes littering the roadsides beneath the mailboxes.  The US Postal Service, FedEx, UPS all deliver Amazon purchased good, because they are smart enough to know a juggernaut when they see one. We need Amazon, more than we ever have, and they know it.

When I was growing up in Dardanelle Arkansas, population 3, 261, Sonny Warren owned Warren’s Grocery, a hole in the wall grocery store in downtown Dardanelle.  I would walk down to the grocery with my Aunt Mary to get an assortment of stuff, including bologna.  I was often barefooted, stubbing toes along the way on sidewalks that had been down so long that they had been undergrow by roots, elevating them to toe-stubbing level. Warren’s grocery was like the Amazon of Dardanelle.  Mr. Warren and his “staff”of two would deliver to your front door if needed. He had about three rows of groceries and goods, but I most remember the meat counter.  Sonny had these HUGE cannons of bologna and he would slice off a piece “thickas yur thumb” and wrap it up in white butcher paper.   There were no plastic bags, and my Aunt Mary carried her groceries home in a cloth sack or a simple brown grocery bag (these were recycled by my Aunt Robbie as book bags J).  I guess my point is, if Mr. Warren were still alive and still serving up slices of bologna in this time of Pandemic, he would be delivering, and he would still have his doors open because people needed him. He had a sense of responsibility.  He put everyone’s purchases “On Account” which people settled up at the end of the month, or didn’t depending on your situation. 

Things are different now.  Amazon is not Sonny Warren.  They do not deliver out of “a sense of responsibility”.  They deliver because people will pay them, and they in turn will employ desperate people to package and deliver critical things….like puzzles, games, food and movies. I don’t think that this is wrong, just different.  Let’s hope that we never run out of money, and Amazon never runs out of desperate employees.

 Mountain Pig....out

CORONA-CATION DAY 16: "I just need these two chickens....."

I was walking with my wife yesterday day, because that is what we do now, and I said “chickens are probably THE most amazing animal in nature, maybe in line with the Sturgeon!” She bit.  “So they are pretty amazing,…”she said to humor me “…but sturgeons?”.  Me: “Right ? Chickens and Sturgeons literally gives birth to an edible product, every single day and nobody has to die for it! Right?!?!? " to which she said "You probably should also have a bottle of water.  Caviar is salty."

So like what other animals do that, produce ready made meals?

I mean there are lobsters and crabs, but who in their right mind would go for the lobster or crab EGGS ,when you can go all Flash Dance-Jennifer Beals and just eat the lobster straight up!

In the event of a Pandemic…., what am I saying, during THIS Pandemic (notice how I always capitalize Pandemic out of respect) you can literally survive with two chickens and a bottle of water. Now, if you had two chickens a bottle of water and a Sturgeon!  OMG, the party is on!  Scrambled eggs and caviar!  Dang!  Can you say Sustainable Easter Brunch, like every day!  AND the dystopian lemon tree!  Don’t get me started.

Remember that movie, The Jerk, with Steve Martin and the amazing Bernadette Peters ?   

Steve Martin’s character believes he was born a poor black child in Mississippi. He is distressed to find out that he is actually white, and in an effort to “find himself”, he heads north to St. Louis. Martin’s character (Navin) discovers his name printed in the new phone book.  Anyway remember the scene where he is leaving his wife and home and he starts picking key necessities up? "I don't need one other thing, not one - I need this. The paddle game, and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches, for sure. And this. And that's all I need."  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2X3vVMdh-s

 I know how he feels…. “I just need this chicken and this chicken and this bottle of water and this lemon tree….and this sturgeon…and this copy of Flash Dance“.

Go whip up some scrambled eggs and caviar, and sit down with a good stream of The Jerk, or Blazing Saddles….or Flash DanceJ.

 Mountain Pig out.

CORNA-CATION DAY 15: The Demise(?) of the Harlequin Romance.

“…And that's why birds do it, bees do it. Even educated fleas do it….” – sung by Cole Porter, 1928

I am a bit concerned about the demise of the Harlequin Romance.  Maybe that is exaggerated. Maybe it is fine and healthy, but HR really does play a pivotal role in child rearing. It is kind of the Playboy of the female puberty world, and I would hate to see what might happen if HR were no longer around.  My mom, rest her blessed soul, read HR when I was growing up.  She and my Aunt Robbie traded them like baseball cards.  “Have you read Passion in the Night?” “No, I’ll take that one and you can have On the Winds of Love.” I still remember my Aunt Robbie lying in her bed (she and my Uncle Fred shared two “June and Ward Cleaver-style” single beds in the front room of their home) beneath the window air conditioner blowing a summer gale, and the police scanner periodically calling out some police activity – whatever that might be in an Arkansas town of 3200 people.  She would hand over her most recently read HR to my mom, who was sitting on my Uncle Fred’s bed across from her.   There were literally paper grocery bags of used HRs in my Aunt Robbie’s closet.   No clue what she did with them.  There was a big HR black market in that town.  Every woman who went to bingo or got their hair done down at the beauty shop was a part of it. Think Steel Magnolias times 10!

 Every girl child grew up sneak-reading HR.  It was how they learned that some beefy, moneyed up guy was gonna come through town and have his car break down, stranding him in the local hotel, immediately across from the café where she was working, so that they would see each other several times a day until she offered to show him the “sights” while he was waiting on his car to be fixed and they would kiss on the lookout up on Mount Nebo, and she would marry him because he was so loved by everyone and he was super good to her parents…..and her cat.

Of course my scenario was a little different than that one, but we will save that for another time.

The entire black market HR gang also read these other romance novels.  They were like HR on steroids – thick, 7 x 10 paperbacks that should have been rated X, but instead were left lying around for anyone who was digging through her mom’s closet to find.   Unlike HR, which were just “PG”, there were lots of naked people in these XHR books.  Often the main guy was involved in some nefarious activity like Pirate Capitan or Highwayman that resulted in some woman being kidnapped, or the guy being shot and her caring for him, until she realized that he was just the unemployed guy that she had been looking for all her life. At some point this relationship would go from the woman being disgusted at the guy to the guy “taking her” in some bed of flowers or barn loft.  Which brings me to my point (I really do have one).  

The newer books certainly don't generate the nostalgia that the older ones do.  Some newer ones clearly are working with an "outsized" sense of importance, but let them have their day I guess ("I thought you said it was a TEXAS-sized secret??") 

If HR goes down, or, god forbid, we lose these X-HR novels, then how will girls learn about the birds and the bees (interesting phrase! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_birds_and_the_bees).  How will they plan for the future?  How will they recognize their moneyed up future husband when they see him at the Auto-Shop?  Maybe I am making a mountain out of a mole hill. There is still Game of Thrones, or better yet the Scottish Game of Thrones…Outlander.  

On Outlander, women from the future and present are ravaged both willingly and unwillingly a LOT.  They are clearly romancing with people who have not had a bath in several days, something that I have come to appreciate more and more. But the Outlander guy has a Scottish accent, which must make it ok.

Good luck with your own Corna-romance.

Mountain Pig out.