Probably like many of you, as I watch the paroxysm of manufactured “rage” throughout urban America I am almost continually running an OODA Loop especially when I leave Shangri-la and go out into the larger world. (OODA is the military acronym for Observe, Orient, Decide, and Act, a decision-making model for use in uncertain situations.) In the environment that is the USA 2026, OODA is in my mental background like a virus scan. Since many/most/all(?) of the “spontaneous” riots are conducted by trained out-of-state professionals provided by entities like Crowds on Demand, Inc. (a real LA-based rent-a-mob temp agency!), the need for OODA is an imperative. I for one am curious about the money trail for the rent-a-mobs.
But ruminations on OODA are just the gateway for this post. Almost all of us of a certain age have had our awareness formed, at least in part, by two classic dystopian novels we read in high school — 1984 (1949, George Orwell) and Brave New World (1932, Aldous Huxley). However, my favorite novel of this (or any other) genre and roughly contemporary to them, and one that I am unreservedly recommending to you, is the far less known 1945 C.S. Lewis That Hideous Strength. When reading THS I find many of the parallels to 2026 to be inescapable. It is almost a fictional recitation of the seduction Hannah Arendt described as “the banality of evil” but set in the campus and village of a small British university. It brings to mind the old quip, “The smaller the boat the meaner the rats.”
The understanding from this trilogy of dystopian fiction is IMHO foundational to being a modern grown-up. Not the full foundation, but still foundational. Read or reread them for a refresher course in the human condition and of the evil that men can do. And if you are unfamiliar with That Hideous Strength, pick it up and be edified. Every time I reread it I find myself saying, “Holy cow, that’s just like now!” Yes, it is a semi-fantasy, but the parallels are too powerful to ignore. It is not a fast read, not because it is turgid or difficult, but because you might just find yourself pausing by necessity to consider the implications of the tale for our modern, debauched world.
For extra credit when exploring the dysfunctional human condition take a stroll through The Minor Prophets of The Old Testament, Hosea through Malachi. Since the books do indeed chronicle accurately the nature of the human condition, like me you are likely to pause and reflect that the truths therein are as current as tomorrow’s headlines.
I’m never sure how yootoob executes searches, as I frequently have something pop into my Recommendations that I had unsuccessfully searched for many moons ago. Much to my delight this is one such example that showed up last week.
As I have already indicated I could listen to Delphine Galou sing the phone book. I am no fan of operatic music but somehow this oratorio by Vivaldi is captivating. I am such a fan of hers that were she to tour the US I would make every effort to attend a concert. Even if it meant going to NYC, especially if Congress manages to pass CCW reciprocity.
Mrs. Galou is firmly ensconced in my current pantheon of female vocalists along with Jennifer Warnes and Eva Cassidy, with Alison Krauss, Gloria Lynne and Deborah Holland in the bullpen. Full confession — I just don’t get Billie Holliday.
Against the glory of Mrs. Galou’s singing is the ridiculous visual of the chamber music ensemble wearing face diapers in keeping with the edicts of the Fauci Flu fraud purveyors and their gullible myrmidons. Was the Fauci Flu a real thing? Of course, I spent nearly two weeks in the hospital with it. I know folks two degrees of separation who died from it, usually in forced isolation as they died. Was Fauci Flu something “special” epidemiologically? Other than its sponsorship and source, not particularly. Periodic lethal respiratory flus sweep the nation with only slightly less mortality.
I have a good friend who was a BCN specialist in the military. That’s Biological, Chemical, and Nuclear weapons. His expertise indicates that the only protection against viruses the size of Fauci Flu would require a full, sealed hazmat suit with independent air source. Face diapers are futile, as the unfolding medical literature is confirming. (Mrs. Barn is a trained scientist and reads the stuff)
Thus, the sight of this instrumental ensemble performatively wearing completely ineffective “protection” is more sanctimonious virtue signaling than anything else. I wonder when or if we will look back at such posturing with the ridicule it demands, or if any of the perpetrators will ever receive justice..
Ironically, one of the guys who got this exactly correct, and was systematically silenced and defamed by the “smart people,” will soon become the most powerful person in the US medical establishment. Karma, baby. Karma.
If my comments about the Fauci Flu disturb you, I will give your concerns all the gracious consideration is appropriate.
Okay, I’m done with those considerations.
And if you are not enamored with the voice of Delphine Galou? You just might be a barbarian.
My recent post about apple butter making was an account of a “public” event at our friends Pat and Valerie’s place a month ago. A couple weeks ago we learned that there was going to be a second episode of apple butter making, this time pretty much restricted to a close circle of friends. We are, fortunately, part of that circle.
The appointed day for the apple butter rendering was a brutal cold, raw, windy and rainy day. In response Pat and Valerie set up the cauldron inside their boiling hearth, normally holding the sugar water boiling pan for making maple syrup. Being a creative guy, Pat removed the pan and rigged up his cauldron with a propane burner to cook the apple chips. Or maybe it was Valerie’s idea, I don’t rightly remember.
This made the entire event even more charming and cozy.
So there we were in this homey setting, stirring and adding apple chips to the bubbling cauldron until after several hours it was time to add the spices. Normally sugar would also be added but this batch of apples was so sweet naturally none was needed.
The spices were stirred in for another half hour.
At the proper time the canning began with a well-honed assembly line. Once again my task was to take away the full cases loaded with the still-hot apple butter.
Out came the fresh biscuits, made with loving excellence by Pat’s sister. The scrumptious biscuits were used to clean out the cauldron. Yummmmm.
Three Saturday’s ago I went to our friends Pat and Valerie for their annual apple butter day. It’s a local tradition that we have gladly glommed on to.
Great fun and fellowship abounded.
At the start, apple chips are just dumped into the copper cauldron and stirred with a canoe paddle.
There is a lot of standing around while we watch the person with the paddle. This is where the tall tales and gripes about taxes emerge.
As it cooks down more apple chips are added and the stirring switches to a custom designed stirring paddle.
Hours later it is all cooked down and ready for adding the spices and sugar. Occasionally they make a batch of sugar free apple butter, that is the stuff we like. But this was a sugared batch.
Once that is all cooked and stirred some more, Pat conducts an “all finished” viscosity test by depositing a dollop on the underside of a sauce pan. Too runny? Cook some more. When it is ready it gets canned in jars.
At this point my job was to carry the cases of still-hot jars into the sugar house for later labeling and, eventually, selling.
The big highlight is that after all the work is done, Pat’s sister breaks out the bin of fresh, still-warm biscuits we use to scrape the residue out the cauldron. The moaning of delight commenced.
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