Lots of good things come in three: Musketeers; Stooges; ‘s Company. And while I’ve never pretended to be a camp, 1970s homosexual in order to maintain a living situation (it just comes naturally), and I think that candy bar dollars spent on feather-light nougat are better spent on peanut-studded logs of caramel, I do have a soft spot in my heart (and at the crown of my skull) for slapstick. Continue reading
There is a statue in Harvard Yard, ostensibly of John Harvard, that is sometimes called, by tour guides and other scoundrels looking to make a quick buck, the Statue of Three Lies. The lies are thus:
- First, John Harvard was not the founder of Harvard College (that was Chris Harvard).
- Second, the College was founded not in 1638, but in 1636.
- And, finally, although the sculptor, perhaps bowing to the fashion of the age, depicted Harvard’s johnson otherwise, he was, in fact, circumcised (I may be thinking of Michelangelo’s David, here). Continue reading
Babies, as I understand it, are free to drink vast oceans of beer, so long as it’s weak, second-runnings beer. This is what I’ve been told by Byron, our tour guide at Red Hook and, even though it would probably be generous to describe his advice on child-rearing as “suspect,” or even “outright harmful,” I’m inclined to agree with him on this point.
At the very least, most children are like drunk little adults anyhow: fascinated by things that glitter (strippers) or spin (also strippers) or make unpleasant noises (strippers, or maybe karaoke singers), Continue reading
Consider the oyster, or the erster, if you will. A bivalve mollusc reminiscent of nothing more than an ancient, gnarled stone, a better fit on the otter’s belly than on your dinner table. And yet we eat him in vast quantities, slurped with Tabasco (better: Cholula) or cocktail sauce, or with mounds of horseradish piled on top. Continue reading
They say that nature makes wine, but only man can make beer. Now, I’m a big fan of beer, but not such a fan of man, and I’d like to say that I’m a fan of nature, but let’s be honest, sometimes nature does perplexing things, like leaving great piles of rocks where there ought to be a perfectly pleasant place to take a walk and, for example, have a beer or three. Continue reading
The Summer road trip is an American tradition: load the car with a case of jerky, six pairs of socks, and however many loved ones you still have room for, and hit the road (along with a hundred thousand other meat-addled iron-jockeys). As we discovered today, though, the secret to a high-speed, low-odor road trip is threefold:
- Swap the jerky for dried pineapple;
- Also bring six pairs of underpants;
- Leave at 7:30 on Sunday morning. Continue reading