Okay. New Year's Resolutions. Let's Do This.

I reckon that tomorrow will be taken up with discussion of a) Diego Costa's choice of sleeve length and b) the College Football playoffs, so I think today is a good day to do New Year's Resolutions.

Get my Masters Degree done - I have been working on my MS in Naval Architecture for about 1000 years.  My thesis only remains.  It has to be done this year, because I don't know how much more I can stand, and I am not sure how much more the candy company is going to pay for my schooling.

Health!  Vegetables!  Exercise!  Sleep! Blah! - I have the seen the future in the aging workforce that surrounds me at the candy factory and it doesn't look good; though it isn't so much about looks as it is about feeling. Fused vertebrae, bad teeth, numb hands and shoulders, pinched nerves, bad knees, it all awaits.  I get the feeling that I might be able to stave all that off if I get more exercise and can remain reasonably limber.  Look out creepy yoga man who keeps trying to do a handstand on the villiage green - you will be alone no longer.

Seriously though, I feel like this year I have gone through life at about 70%.  It would be nice to feel a little better on most days.

Be More Professional at Work and in Life - Translation:  basically try to shave every couple of days, instead of every four days.

Write More, Shorter Posts - Pretty self explanatory.  I think I will be writing more posts but trying to keep them shorter, in general, though I still the reserve the right to go long.  There are some I know who like reading the blog but get turned off by the length.  I've heard your cries and I'll try to do a little better.  I don't think I can write everyday though -- at least not for the blog.  I think you can see that I am running pretty thin on things to talk about.

Happy New Years, everyone.

The American Revolution Reconsidered.

So I just finished reading With Zeal and Bayonets Only: The British Army in Campaign in North America, 1775 - 1783 by Matthew Spring.  I was desperately hoping it would debunk the myth that the rebels fought from behind rocks and trees, and the British fought rather like this (WARNING:  This clip is from "The Patriot", and because it is a Mel Gibson movie you know there will be blood, and maybe the odd decapitation...wait for it....wait for it....):

The clip is of "The Patriot's" rendition of the Battle of Camden.  It gets much wrong about the battle (surely it couldn't have all been over in two minutes!) but I think there is a general belief that if the movie is incorrect on the substance it at least gets the style right.  

Based on what I read in Spring's book, nothing could be further from the truth.  

First off, the regimentals.  The battle flags were mostly ceremonial and rarely deployed in battle.  It is possible they were there, but more likely than not they were stored with the rest of the baggage.

Then there is the speed of the advance.  Here in the movie the soldiers advance shoulder to shoulder, slowly, stoically, silently.  In reality, Spring believes the British adopted a more open order which was better suited to deploying units in the rugged North American terrain - there may been 1.5 to 2 feet between men. This was done in the French and Indian War as well.  

Because the British sought to end battles quickly to preserve the soldiery the British favored a bayonet charge over exchanges of musketry, and preferred to dislodge the enemy quickly on the battle field.  They would try to do this by out flanking the continentals and, if that could not be accomplished, assaulting positions with the bayonet.  The goal was avoid a firefight where superior numbers and decent American marksmanship often took heavy tolls. 

Spring says typically the British would have advanced quickly towards the enemy and break into a jog when they came into range of continental rifles and musketry (which had a longer range than the British).  They would halt quickly, fire a volley into the opposing ranks, and then charge with the bayonet at a run.  This is exactly what the British right wing did to Gate's militiamen at Camden, who fled in the face of the charge.  

The shock tactic worked well in the beginning of the war, but over time the Continentals became better soldiers and could stand up to a British bayonet charge.  This happened at Camden on the American right;  twice the British charged and were repulsed, and the British were in danger of faltering.  Cornwallis rode up to steady his men, and soldiers from the British right who had smashed through the American lines outflanked the continentals who were standing firm.  A firefight ensued with the remaining American forces (about 800 out of 2000 were left) and Cornwallis released the dragoons, which he had held in reserve, to complete the victory.  

The silence of the advance?  The seeming non-chalance of the British soldiery?  Humbug! Balderdash!  Fiddlesticks! Spring writes that the British probably would have been hulloing and huzzaying their way forward, trying both to keep their spirits up and to unnerve those of the Americans.  There would have been some hatred mixed with the fear in the eyes - the British soldiers held their adversaries in cold contempt, which occasionally manifested itself in giving no quarter to surrendering American troops.  

Why did they hate us so?  Because it turns out we did shoot from behind rocks and trees at every opportunity.  The militia, for their poor reliability in conventional fighting, were excellent when fighting the kind of guerrilla war that The Patriot depicts.  The Hessians weren't drunk before the battle of Trenton;  they were exhausted, their foraging parties engaged daily by militia, forcing them to be constantly at readiness and forage in force.  Their guard on that fateful Christmas Eve was down due to the poor weather, believing that no one would be stupid and desperate enough to cross the Delaware in such horrid conditions.  

George Washington was just that stupid and desperate.  Good thing too...if he had been unsuccessful in rallying his army with victories at Trenton and Princeton, it would have given the British their best chance to knock the wind out of the Rebellion.  Of this I am quite convinced.  It was the only time I think they really could have won the war.  Otherwise, they never had enough troops employed to effectively hold the entire country.

You'll have to forgive me.  It's late, and I am rambling.  I'll wrap it up by saying the British were probably better fighters in the woods then the movie gives them credit for (that scene where Mel Gibson and his poor little children take out a squad of British soldiers probably would have never happened...the ineptitude on display is unimaginable, even for British regulars), but not as good as the Americans, who were used to the woods and to shooting behind trees having done so their whole lives.  The British actually had to train their light infantry to fight behind trees, which is odd because it is so natural to any American boy or girl who has played with BB guns in the woods.

And the whole thing about American riflemen cutting down officers and the like?  Apparently this was a real problem, and one of the reasons the British were so keen to close the distance and dislodge the continentals on the tips of the bayonet.  It is telling that after the British experience in the American Revolution they reorganized their light infantry wings and set up a regiment of rifles, which fought across Spain with Wellington against the French with great effect.  

  

Good night everyone.  2 more posts to go.  

  

A Testimony of Doubt

The year is almost over, and I sit on the verge of yet another New Year it is only natural to take stock of where one is in life.  It' s usually a gloomy time, an airing of grievances against oneself for the roads not traveled (such as the one that leads to the gym) or other roads traveled far too much (the road that leads to the cupcakery).

Though I too am guilty of finding my feet wending their way to the cupcake place a little too often I actually find that I feel pretty good as the next year dawns.  A nagging depression that had been sitting on my shoulder and hitting me in the head with a cricket bat seems to have finally eased.

Ah yes, I've had my bouts with depression, two or three good solid throw downs perhaps with several minor scuffles here and there where we kick each other in the shins for a time.  Nothing special - run of the mill mild to moderate depression with a kicker of Seasonal Affective Disorder thrown in for good measure, maybe even a little dysthymia, plain old simply melancholy.  Why it comes I have no idea.  I have nothing really to be depressed about -- which of course makes me guilty that I am depressed which in turn makes me more depressed.  It's fun.  Makes for decent poetry if you don't lay it on too thick.

While I can't exactly pinpoint the cause I can note a couple things that have contributed to its ease.  One, honestly, is the fact that I have joined a poetry reading group.  It's not that I find poetry theraputic in anyway, but it has given me some hope that maybe, through connections and practice, I might find a way to write professionally in a year or two.  Probably only make enough money to buy a sandwich, but I'll tell you that will be one of the best tasting sandwiches I will ever eat, provided it doesn't come from Subway.  Anyway, that gives hope to the deeper yearnings of the soul which is important in stringing me along in a meaningful way.  I may tilting at windmill, but it yields purpose.

Two, work is good, but we are little hush hush about things at the Newport News Candy Factory.

Three:  My faith in God has reached it's low point.

That third one may surprise you.  It certainly has surprised me.  Racked by doubt for years, I have felt that only by having God sweep me off my feet to make me his buddy buddy friend can I truly kick my depression, and have lamented the fact that God through it all remains seemingly silent.  There are no whispers in the wind, there are no words in the clouds, there is no spirit through strangers, there are no hobos that you kind of want to punch in the face but then you don't and it's a good thing because it turns out that hobo is Jesus, and now he shall grant you three wishes.

No.  There has been none of that.  Only emptiness, only nothingness.

So for several years, going even back to when I was in college, my faith as I knew it to be, a faith in things unseen as recorded in the Holy Bible, has been slowly chipped and weathered away.  Bit by bit, day by day. Going to Church became a burden, the hymns become impossible to sing, the prayers are choked out by silence.

But then finally there comes a day where there is simply nothing left to chip away it, nothing more left to give away, and you ask yourself in dead seriousness what it is you truly believe; when I do this I find that something inside me will simply not let go of the idea and the feeling that there is a God, there is something beyond ourselves that we are all bound up in.

I can take that one step further and say that something important happened with Jesus of Nazareth, and I believe that in him we get a glimpse of what God is truly like (i.e. loving and merciful).  But that is as far as my creed goes.

What is so great about that?  My salvation, dear Christian Soldiers, is still in doubt.

Well, in a strange way, I have come to feel that to be in a state of doubt is like being in a state of grace.  It is only my belief in a God that is good and merciful that allows me to have the courage to doubt God's existence in the first place; to have the freedom to be receptive to new ways that the Spirit might move through the world; to boldy pray for salvation not in a distant heaven but rather in every moment of time passing; to have the latitude to be incredibly, stupidly wrong, as I surely am about a great many things.  

That, I think,  is something worth celebrating.

 



 

I have a tablet!!!

This is new ground indeed for the blog as I am writing this on a Fire Tablet that I got for Christmas.

It's really hard to write with my thumbs.  I don't think I will make a habit of this.  It's hard to believe that there are kids that can probably type faster with their thumbs.

The tablet could spell doom for the blog in other ways.  There is a dizzying world of media literally at my fingertips.  It would be so easy to just disappear into it.

Well, I think that is about all my thumbs can handle for now.  I think I may have fractured them....

Propaganda!

Hey, hey hey hey hey hey HEY!

Listen, listen....that thing were Frank Beamer is dancing in the locker room like a fool after Virginia Tech's win?  Yeah, I don't think it's true.  I think it is an attempt by a small band of Virginia Tech alumni who are seeing to oust Frank Beamer as the Virginia Tech head football coach and install his son Shane on the throne of the Hokie Nation.  This video is intended to discredit Frank and add credence to their cause.  

The British did the same thing to Hitler when Paris fell to the Germans.  Propaganda film showed him dancing a gig after the city fell, when in reality it was just film of Hitler saluting his generals repeated to make it look like he was dancing a jig.  Why you would need propaganda to try and convince people that Hitler was bad news I don't know, but the British are a thorough people, if nothing else.  

I just don't see how a 68 year old man who is still recovering from throat surgery to the extent that he can't even stand on the sidelines can throw down moves as sweet as those shown in the video.  It's not possible.  

Diego Costa and his Ever Changing Sleeves

Diego Costa cannot seem to get comfortable at Chelsea.

It's not that he can't score goals (he has 13 goals in 15 Premier League games), and it isn't that he has found it hard to adjust well to the intensity of the Premier League, as can be seen in the photograph below.

Diego Costa in action against Liverpool's Martin Skyrtel.  I think in a pick game of soccer Costa would be likely to kick someone in the balls for no reason  and enjoy it.  He just has that look about him. 

No no no, none of that.  He's been great on the field for Chelsea, and well worth the millions of pounds to bring him to Stamford Bridge.

But dear dear me he can't seem to figure out what to do with the length of his sleeves.

Today he did it again.  He started the Chelsea' match against West Ham United with long sleeves and blue gloves, perfectly fitting for a cold, rainy Boxing Day in London.

But then when he comes out for the second half, he's wearing a short sleeved shirt, leaving the gloves in tact.

I think having the players change shirts is fairly common during half time.  You'll see a player going into the tunnel with a muddied of bloodied jersey only to see him start the second half with a clean shirt fresh from the laundry.  But most players -- in fact almost all players -- seem to stick with the sleeve length they had at the first half.

Not Costa.  I swear I've seen him change sleeve length between halves in at least three games.

And it isn't simply the changing of sleeves.  Most players find a sleeve length they like and stick with it.  Some are forever in short sleeves like Chelsea's John Terry, Stoke's Charlie Adam, Man City's James Milner.  David Beckham rather famously wore long sleeves throughout much of his career, even when arriving at the warmer climes enjoyed by the LA Galaxy (he eventually did switch to short sleeves and it was actually news worthy at the time).

Other players make sensible decisions based on the weather.  Chelsea midfielder Oscar favors long sleeves for much of the English season, but will wear short sleeves if it's warm enough.  You know, like any normal, well adjusted human being would do.

Diego Costa?  Here we are not quite halfway through the season, and we've been treated to a dizzying array of sleeve and glove combinations.  Long sleeves, short sleeves, 3/4 length sleeves (really!), all with or without gloves.

I understand that all athletes are probably just a little OCD about certain things.  When I ran track and cross country in high school I took very special care to lace my shoes just so.  Basketball players have their routines for taking free throws.  Maybe Costa's brand of OCD has to do with the heat exchange rate coming off of his hands and arms.  Maybe it has to be juuuuuuuust so.

Or maybe he makes changes based on how he's playing.  In today's game he had a brilliant first half but failed to score a goal in his long sleeves and gloves.  He comes out with short sleeves and gloves for the second half and scores Chelsea's second goal of the match, putting the game on ice.  Maybe there is some superstition here, maybe he is trying to find the sleeve and glove combination that will further unlock his goal scoring potential.  Or maybe the correct sleeve and glove combo is necessary to maintain the delicate balance of moxie and iron that make up a goal scorer on form.  Perhaps the small changes to the sleeves and hands are like making adjustments to the trim of a ship of war as it's loads change over time, seeking the attitude that gains a perfect blend of speed and power even as the condition of the ship is changing.  That perfect trim is ever changing, ever malleable, ever adjustable, ever tweakable.

I think this may be a problem for Nate Silver to solve.  You'd have to wait till the season has played itself out to increase the sample size (hopefully Diego Costa has at least 13 more goals in him), but then maybe someone should do a statistical analysis to see which sleeve and glove combo yielded the most goals.

For my money, by the accursed eye test, I think he is at his best when he plays with gloves and short sleeves.
Hail to The Guv'nor!  Go Chelsea!        

Yeah, for some reason some Chelsea supporters are trying to call him "The Guv'nor".  No idea why.  I love Chelsea Football Club (I lobbied hard to name Elizabeth "Chelsea"...no dice) but this....this is stupid.  I hope it doesn't stick.

Tidewater Marickovich Christmas Traditions

Ever since Elizabeth has been old enough to do the whole Santa Claus thing we've stayed in town for Christmas.  Now that we've been at home for a few years the Tidewater Marickovich Christmas is starting to take shape.  Surely it will change eventually as the kids get older, but for now here are our best traditions, some of them still yet in their nascent form.

1.  Christmas Town

As the last ghoulish shrieks of Hall-O-Scream die away Busch Gardens starts to turn their theme park into a winter wonderland, stringing it with millions of lights and heading back into time to bring back authentic urchins from Victorian London.  We always go once and have a slow walk through the park, usually a few weeks before Christmas when it isn't too crowded yet.  It's nice.

Christmas Town Tree

2.  Church

Christmas Eve revolves around church.  The church holds three services on Christmas Eve, all of them rather different.  We take the kids to the 5:30 service which is geared towards kids with a sort of  a pageant.  It's a no-rehersal pageant, you just dress up as an angel or a shepherd and when we get to that part in the Gospel story you go up and join the tableu slowly taking form at the altar.  As easy and sweet as a no-bake jello pudding pie.

Once service is enough for me, but since I play bells I have to go to the 7:30 Lessons and Carols service, which is actually pretty nice.  Trish stays for the next service at 11:00 so she can sing with the choir, and I go home with the kids for:

3.  The Night Watch

The house is ready for Santa.  Reindeer food is spread out on the lawn, stocking are out, we've made santa a ham sandwich and left him a bottle of beer.  Elizabeth and Rosalyn pass out pretty quickly, as it's about 10:00 at this time, and it's my job to stay awake to watch them.

Why I don't just go to bed myself I don't know.  Maybe it has something to do with me wanting to emulate shepherds watching their flocks by night, or maybe it has something to do with the Serbs guarding the Badnjak on Christmas Eve, but I try to stay awake until Trish comes back from midnight mass, usually at about 1:00 AM.  Much like the Disciples in the garden of Getheseme, I find it very hard to do.  I think I have yet to actually make it.

4.  The Office Christmas Marathon

This was a new one this year.  I tried to watch every Christmas Episode of the The Office between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day - and there are a lot, as there are Christmas themed episodes in Seasons 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9.  I managed to do it this year and I really enjoyed it.  My favorite is the two part "Classy Christmas", where Holly Flax returns.

5.  Christmas Crackers

Another new one.  We bought a set of Christmas crackers from Costco this year.  I was honestly hoping for a much louder explosion when we pulled them apart (there is really only a loud snap), but then I guess that would make them too dangerous for household use.  We had fund with these, and I know I will endeavor to make them a part of our Christmas celebrations in the future.

6.  Presents!

How does one eat 4.6 pounds of shortbread?  One delicious cookie at a time.

Of course we do presents.  This year, among a few other things, my wife gave me a 4.6 pound tin of Walker's shortbread.  4.6 pounds!   So much for maintaining weight this holiday season!

Elizabeth got a ton of Frozen stuff.  If there is anything left on the planet that is Frozen themed that we do not own, I don't want to know what it is -- because then I would probably have to buy it.

The Ultimate Holiday Parlor Game: The Muppets Hunt for Red October

So it's 1870, you are in Victorian London, and you and your guests have just finished eating a heavy Christmas meal of goose, pastries, and a vat of wine.

What now?

There is no NBA and their annual spate of Christmas games.  There are no movie theaters to go to.  "The Christmas Story" hasn't even been written yet, much less filmed and shown for 24 hours straight on TBS.  You might go to a football match, but the game is still squarely a lower class past time and has not yet been made sexy and acceptable to the rich by the gloss of money and the power of Russian oil Moguls.  There is no Nintendo, no Playstation.

So what do you do?

You play parlor games!  Charades, Are you there Moriarity, Tiddlywinks, Biddlywinks, Squeek and Tickle, Tickle and Squeek, Bunky McBunkBunk, Let's Tell Stories about Famous Bridges, Confuse the Cat. Games that can be played indoors without equipment on foggy, dreary, soot filled English nights.

The English Gentry Spent Many Hours Simply Bored to Tears.

And among my favorite Parlor Games is one that my wife and came up with:  "Recast The Hunt for Red October with Muppets".

It's a simple game.  You just try to figure out which Muppet should take which role in the classic 1990 Family Christmas masterpiece "The Hunt for Red October".

The game always starts with the question "Which Muppet should play Ramius?", the renegade Soviet Submarine captain who intends to defect to the United States and hand over the new Typhoon Class submarine "Red October" with its silent caterpillar drive.  It's an important question, because it from here all the other dominoes fall into place.

Naturally, it seems that the most important role in the film should go to Kermit the Frog, and for many years that is how the game was played, just filling in the other roles with the other Muppets.  Sam the Eagle makes a good Real Admiral Painter (commander of USS Enterprise Battle Group), Swedish Chef is naturally KGB spy (who is also chef), Gonzo fills in for sonarman Jones with Rizzo the Rat as his trusty sidekick.  With Kermit out of the picture it is tough to figure out who Jack Ryan would be -- Fozzy Bear is a choice, as is Rolf the Dog.  Miss Piggy would work except that there are virtually no women in the film.  But if it is a Muppet movie, Miss Piggy must have a role....I would perhaps put Miss Piggy by Kermit's side as the XO of the Red October (the man who wanted to see Montana), but I don't think Miss Piggy would ever play a character who dies.

There is of course the Sesame Street variant, which allows characters from the street to be brought in too. All this really does is let you have Cookie Monster, the greatest Muppet ever created.  Where to put him is a great mystery, because .  I could see him as Jack Ryan (Son of Cookie!  Ramius trying to defect!), but I think his contemplative googily eyes make him a good choice for Ramius as well.  With Cookie Monster as Ramius that would allow Kermit to be Jack Ryan (which I think works) and....yes, Miss Piggy as Allen Greer, the CIA Deputy Director of Intelligence.  That's a nice large role for her, and I am sure that we could work in a musical number for her about....something.  Bacon?  Maybe.

Look, all I am saying is that with 26 cast members in the movie and at least that many Muppets to choose from, there must be thousands upon thousands of combinations, each one of with their own merits, all of which are ripe for discussion on an endless Victorian Christmas night.

It has to be, the ultimate parlor game.  My wife and I invented it, and it is my greatest pleasure to give it to you on this magical Christmas Eve day (which in our case down here on the Tidewater is actually foggy and rainy, warm and gross).

Merry Christmas!



      

Festivus Day Post!

And on the 23rd of December, on the Feast of Festivus, the Lord looked out upon the wasteland and saw the frippery and frappery of the world and he didst turn to his holy army and in a voice that didst render the heavens cried out

In the name of all that is Holy, Release the Curmudgeon!!

The Curmudgeon!  The old man shaking with saintly rage at all that is wrong with society whom, stinking with anger and maybe pea soup, has come up from the depths of hell (or maybe just the local deli) to point out all the shortcomings and disappointments of our times. 

So today, on this holy day of Festivus, I doth my Curmudgeonly cap, and air the following grievances:

Grievance the First:  The spate of Oscar worthy films coming out all at once in the holiday season.

Spring brings only crap, Summer brings the blockbusters which are filled with nothing but superheroes, robots, or violence, all rated PG-13 so they do not even have the consolation of casual nudity.  Fall brings only bad horror movies for Halloween.  All year I see the previews and adds for films and I'm just saying No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Now all of a sudden at Christmas time there at least three movies I'd like to see -- Unbroken, Big Eyes, and that movie about Alan Turning -- and one that I have to see because my daughter is making me, Into the Woods.  I don't have the time to see four movies over the holiday season in the theater.  Plus, it's hard to part with the $48 dollars it will take to put my yuletide butt in the seats, and that is a conservative estimate for tickets only.

Why they can't sprinkle these movies more throughout the year I don't know.  Maybe the Academy doesn't want the rabble of the common citizenry to cloud their decision making.

Grievance the Second:  We're about to go to war with North Korea over a Seth Rogan movie?  Really?

I am all for freedom of speech and such, but maybe this one time, this ONE TIME...the North Koreans are on to something.  I'm not a communist or anything, I just think that everyone gets one right, every now and again, and maybe they have a point.  I just wish they'd found a more healthy way to express their hatred for Mr. Rogan and his films.  Maybe just send a letter to the editor or something next time after having a nice cup of tea with which to calm down and collect ones thoughts.  No need for slaughter.

Grievance the Third:  We just won't let go of the flying car.

Every couple of weeks or so there is some story on CNN about how people are still working on flying cars, how they are finally just around the corner.  Well, Mr. Blitzer, if I had my druthers every nation in the world would sign a multi-lateral treaty stating that all work on flying cars shall cease and desist immediately.

Why do we need flying cars?  What good would do us?  You may say it will decrease gridlock if we were all just flying around in the sky, but that only really works if you are the only kid on your block to have one of these devil machines.  Can you imagine a world where everyone had a flying car?  Can you imagine trying to find a parking spot in three dimensions outside the local Walmart between Halloween and Christmas Eve?  It would be bloody bedlam!

And remember who we are, and just what you are asking us to.  It is an amazing thing that in our society we just let people, after rudimentary training, get behind the wheel and drive internal combustion engines around. That is a great amount of trust in other people's abilities, and I am not sure it is always earned.  I mean, sitting in a red light I can see people on the phone in their cars across as they drive by, barely paying attention to where they are going, all blabbering on and on.  Do you think that these are important conversations?  I guarantee you that 95% of them are not.  They are more likely about what they are going to have for dinner that night even though they are going to be home in five fucking minutes and can just as well figure it out then.

Or maybe they are talking about their day, and how awesome it was that they got two bags of chips for a dollar (what luck!), or how bad it was when you found out that the boss is cracking down on you tube time and blocking all cute cat videos to increase productivity (that sucks!).

Or maybe they are calling into the Nick Cattles Show on ESPN 94.1 just to tell Nick how they agree with him on everything he is saying. The Cowboys are pretty good this year.  I don't think the Chiefs will make the playoffs.  Maybe we do need an 8 team playoff.

You really want to make all these people pilots?  Do you want me to be a pilot?  After all you have seen on this blog?  Do you really entrust me to fly something?  Because if you mass produce the flying car, that is what you are doing.

Don't do it!  It's wasteful, it's stupid, it's unnecessary!  And I haven't even got to the whole argument that the massive amounts of energy required to keep a flying car in the air makes it environmentally bankrupt!

But I won't, because quite frankly it isn't very funny and I think I have about used up all my grievances.

And so, in the immortal words of Arthur Wordsmithington of Lyme, probably the world's worst poet:

As the Curmudgeon cracked open a Sprite,

The Feats of Strength having tested his Might,

He bade all around a Happy Festivus Day

Before slinking off to the Chinese Buffet.

Happy Birthday Beethoven!

Beethoven is one of my favorite composers.  I'm no expert on music or anything like that, but for my money the man wrote some of the greatest symphonies, concertos, and piano music ever written.

Did you know you share a birthday with German Football Mats Hummels?

Favorite Symphony?  The sixth, the pastoral.  You know, the one in Fantasia where the Pegasuses (Pegasi?) fly through all those pink fluffy clouds.  It is unique among Beethoven's work for reasons that I really can't put into words, though Wikipedia tells me that it is unusual because it is programmatic, depicting with each of the five movements the following plot:

1.  The composer arrives in the country

2.  There is a scene by a brook.  Of what Beethoven doesn't say....I like to think maybe this is where the composer, tired from his journey, sits down on a rock and eats a sandwich.

3. A gathering of country folk.  Thanks to Fantasia, I always imagine them making wine, or at least drinking it in rather large quantities.

4.  A storm!

5.  The storm is over.  A bunch of shepherds show up, and sing a song of thanks for being safe from the storm.

Fluff and bother.  I'm not really sure what I think of when I listen to the song...I think it actually tends to remind me of the rolling hills in the western part of Virginia, that I can never seem to stop yearning for deep down inside. Every now and again I think I see a hill here in the distance, only to find that is a pile of slag for some construction site for yet another Whole Foods in Hampton Roads.

But yes.  Beethoven. Filled with holy madness, with range Zeppelinesque, being able to turn from sturm and drang to unspeakable beauty in the blink of an eye, his music has enriched the lives of so many and I am glad for it.

Below is a link to one of my favorite performances of my favorite Piano Concerto, the fourth, with Helene Grimaud at the Proms in 2001.  Even if you don't have a lot of time, listen to the first few minutes.  It will brighten your day with the sort of existential melancholy that only Beethoven can manage to make sweet.

 

 
Note:  There is actually only one Whole Foods in Hampton Roads.  One opened up in Virginia Beach maybe a year ago and there is another one under construction on the corner of Jefferson and Oyster Point.  I find it ironic that they had to cut about 1/3 of the woods that was in that little corner of town to build it, given how much Whole Foods apparently values the environment.  I am sure they offset it by planting additional trees somewhere else (I at least hope they did).  Even so, all I know is it going to make traffic at the already very congested intersection worse, and that means it is going to be even harder to get to the Plaza Azteca on Jefferson Ave.  That isn't my favorite Plaza Azteca (I think the one in Hampton is better...followed by the one in Yorktown) but if you have errands to run near the mall, well, it's really the best choice.