Agreed: Republicans don’t have their “A” team in the field this election cycle.
But you go to the primaries with the field you have, and then you go to the election with the candidate you have. Paul Ryan, Allan West, Marco Rubio, Sarah Palin, Chris Christie—or whomever it is that you think might be able to wipe the floor with Obama—just isn’t running, and the convention is unlikely to be brokered and a draft just won’t be happening unless that’s the case.
So, are you reconciled to a Romney candidacy? Or is it “anyone-but-Romney” for you?
I think you know where I stand: I will hold my nose and vote for Romney, if he’s the nominee. He’s competent and conservative enough for me, especially compared to Obama.
A [mother] climbed onto the roof of her burning house and tried to smash the windows of her daughters’ bedrooms in a bid to save them from the flames ravaging her home.
Madonna Badger, 47, and friend Michael Borcina survived the horrific Christmas day fire at her Stamford, Connecticut home that claimed the lives of her three daughters and their grandparents.
Lily, 10, and seven-year-old twins Sarah and Grace perished in the 5 a.m. fire with Mrs Badger’s parents, Lomer and Pauline Johnson, who were to celebrate their 49th wedding anniversary today.
Ms. Badger is a wealthy executive, as many articles are eager to point out, and the house was a huge and expensive waterfront Victorian she’d bought a year ago for almost two million dollars. Her father had just finished a stint as department store Santa at Saks; he really looked the part (go to the article to see the photos), natural white beard and all.
There are strange anomalies about the situation, which have caused a lot of gossipy speculation in comments sections of newspaper reports on the fire. For example, Borcina was the contractor in charge of renovating the home, and was overnight staying there (I’m not going to get into these aspects of the tragedy, but I note them).
To me the most important question involves the fire itself. By all reports, it swept through the mansion incredibly quickly. In this day and age of smoke detectors, we like to think that horrific events like this can be avoided through technology. What went wrong here? Were there no smoke detectors in a house of the magnitude? Were they disabled because of the ongoing renovations? Or were they overwhelmed by the ferocity of a Christmas tree fire?
Home fires that start with Christmas trees tend to be more deadly than typical home fires. A recent study by the National Fire Prevention Association found that one in 18 home Christmas tree fires from 2005 to 2009 resulted in a death, compared with one in every 141 home fires.
“A Christmas tree fire is a fairly uncommon occurrence, but when it does occur, it can be particularly serious and more deadly than another type of house fire,” spokesperson Lorraine Carli says.
Trees provide an unusually large amount of fuel, and the fire can spread through a room in seconds, leaving little time to get out of the house, says Tom Olshanski of the U.S. Fire Administration. That’s especially true if the fires happen when people are sleeping, he says.
The key to prevention is to water the tree well and to turn off the lights when you go to sleep.
Whatever the cause of the fire, I cannot imagine that Ms. Badger will ever recover, except physically. Nor will her estranged husband. Even the firefighters seem to have been traumatized. The deepest desire is to go in and save the victims. And yet the knowledge that, if you do, you not only stand a good chance of not surviving, but you will not survive and your life will be forfeited in vain, is enough to stop virtually anyone. But the guilt can be tremendous, as well as the grief.
If you’re the praying type, please say a few prayers for this family.
I haven’t paid a whole lot of attention to this story because frankly, I’ve never thought Ron Paul had a chance of winning the nomination to begin with. And the newsletter story certainly won’t be enhancing those chances.
But I will say that it appears that on this matter Paul is either (a) negligent, or (b) lying. Perhaps even both.
But in Ron Paul’s case, we’re to believe that ghostwriters and collaborators just go off on their own personal bugaboos, pursuing their own hateful agendas, before singing your name at the bottom of an article.
And then they keep doing it, and doing it, and doing it some more; and then they do it some more; and some more, and more. And you never notice, because you don’t even bother to read the headlines of your own first-person magazine.
Maybe Paul should give a speech about racism, the way Obama did after the Reverend Wright revelations. Of course, there are big differences between Obama’s situation then and Paul’s now. One is that the press was in Obama’s corner, and eager to let him off the hook. Another is that Reverend Wright’s racist speeches were against white people rather than black—the former is the semi-acceptable racism in PC-land, the latter not.
But more importantly, Obama was at worst a mere spectator and disciple of Wright’s, not the originator of the remarks. They were preached from the pulpit and also published under Wright’s name in the bulletins of the church in which Obama was a long-term member. Obama’s denial of any knowledge of them seemed (and still seems) highly umplausible; but still, it is considerably more credible than Paul’s disclaimers of work published under his own name.
For those of you who thought this post from yesterday too long to wade through, I thought I’d just put up a portion of the last video in that post here so you can enjoy it for Christmas. It’s a scene from the old Met production of the Humperdinck opera “Hansel and Gretel,” where the children have gotten lost and fallen asleep in the dark and scary forest after saying their prayers with childlike trust. Angels come to guard them in the night (and please watch it in full screen mode to get the impact of the special effects; they can be very difficult to see when the picture is small, and they take a little while to get going):
[NOTE: This little poetic effort of mine has become somewhat of a holiday tradition here. So here (with a few words changed for the sake of meter) it comes again—just like the holiday itself. Merry Christmas Eve!]
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ”˜sphere
Bloggers were glad to see Christmas draw near.
Their laptops were turned off and all put away
The bloggers were swearing to take off the day.
Their children were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of extra time danced in their heads
With a father or mom not distracted by writing
No posts to compose, and no links to be citing.
But we all know that vows were just meant to be broken
And the vows of a blogger are sometimes a token.
There’s always a chance that some sort of temptation
Will rise up to make them of fleeting duration.
For instance, there might be found, under the tree
A sleek Mac; well, what better sight could there be?
And who could neglect it and wait the whole day?
It has to be tried out, one just can’t delay.
Or maybe somewhere there’s a fast-breaking story
Important, and complex, and covered with glory.
It can’t be ignored, there’s really no choice,
So add to the din every blogger’s small voice.
And then there are some who may just like to rhyme
(I’m one who at times must confess to this crime),
And it’s been quite a while since Clement Clarke Moore
Wrote his opus (though authorship’s been claimed by Gore)””
So it seems about time it be newly updated
And here’s my attempt””aren’t you glad you all waited?
Forgive if it sounds a bit awkward to read.
Writing, I set a new record for speed.
I had to get under the wire and compose it
Before Christmas Day. Now it’s time that I close it.
But let me exclaim (or, rather, I’ll write)
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!
I love the opera “Hansel and Gretel,” by Engelbert Humperdinck (no, not that Humperdinck or this one; this one). His name may be a yuk, but the music he composed is among the masterpieces of opera, soaring and sonorous, tuneful and moving, and altogether delightful.
“Hansel and Gretel” is often performed at Christmastime, being suitable for children. The original German is rarely used in this country, and there are various well-known and well-loved English translations. When I read that the Metropolitan Opera of NY was doing the work this December and January, I thought of going down to see it, because it’s such a favorite of mine even though I haven’t yet got a grandkid to take in tow.
And then I checked out the Met’s website, and watched a video there of the current production. My ears were not offended; the voices, as expected, are great. But I could hardly believe my eyes.
First, in order for you to understand why, let me set the scene, directly following the famous Prayer Song which occurs after the children have discovered themselves lost in the dark and dangerous forest and the Sandman has come to help them sleep by placing sand in their eyes. The German libretto has Gretel then singing that it’s time to say their evening prayers, and the words of the prayer song that follows are very specific in describing a religious image of comfort and protection: fourteen angels will surround the children to guard them from harm while they sleep.
Most stagings—in fact, all stagings I had ever seen until now—follow what are really very clear instructions in the libretto when they set up the scene that directly follows, in which the music of the Prayer Song is expanded, rising and swelling as the children fall asleep with visions of these angels (or perhaps actual angels) guarding them. It’s an exceptionally beautiful and inspirational image.
Well, here we have the Met’s new, improved version (for those unfamiliar with the opera, don’t be surprised at the fact that Hansel is always sung by a woman in drag):
The original setting has turned into a Sendak-esque, vaguely threatening scene in which the fourteen angels have become chefs In the Night Kitchen. I believe it’s no accident that the unabashedly religious aspect of the opera has been turned into secular emptiness (although perhaps “emptiness” is not the best word, since this is about food). And this staging is not just wrong (and offensive) because it represents a change from the traditional, or because it’s not religious; it’s wrong because it goes against the fact that the music itself expresses holiness and serenity. One might even say that it’s celestial. So the concept behind the staging goes against the music as well.
In case you want an antidote, here’s the old Met production, before angels feared to tread there. I have kept the Prayer Song because it’s so beautiful, too; it constitutes the first two minutes, and is sung here in an English translation that is inferior to the one I know best, which explicitly describes the fourteen angels and their relative positioning in the tableau, and is also a better rendition of the original German:
Merry Christmas!
[ADDENDUM: For those of you who didn’t follow the link above to “the one I know best,” here it is:
When at night I go to sleep,
Fourteen angels watch do keep.
Two my head are guarding:
Two my feet are guiding:
Two are on my right hand;
Two are on my left hand;
Two who warmly cover;
Two who o’er me hover;
Two to whom ’tis given
To guide my steps to Heaven. ]
[NOTE: Those of you who’ve read this blog for a long time are probably familiar with the following old family recipe, which I’ve posted here before. But here it is again for anyone who may have missed it.]
This recipe was brought over from Germany with my ancestors sometime in the mid-1800s, and when I was growing up it was my favorite of all the wonderful treats cooked by my great-aunt Flora, a baker of rare gifts. She and my great-uncle were not only exceptionally wonderful people, but to my childish and wondering eyes they looked very very much like Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus.
The name of the treat is lebkuchen, but it’s quite a different one from the traditional recipe, which I don’t much care for. This is sweet and dense, can be made ahead, and keeps very well when stored in tins.
Flora’s Lebkuchen:
(preheat the oven to 375 degrees)
1 pound dark brown sugar
4 eggs
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
4 oz. chopped dates
1 cup raisins
1 tsp. orange juice
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. almond extract
1 tsp. lemon juice
Sift the dry ingredients together (flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon).
Beat the eggs and brown sugar together with a rotary beater till the mixture forms the ribbon. Add the orange juice, lemon juice, and extracts to it.
Add the dry mixture to it, a little at a time, stirring.
Add the raisins, dates, and walnuts.
Grease and flour two 9X9 cake pans. Put batter in pans and bake for about 25 minutes (or a little less; test the cake with a cake tester to see if it’s done). You don’t want it to get too dark and dry on the edges, but the middle can’t still be wet when tested.
Meanwhile, make the frosting.
Melt about 6 Tbs. of unsalted butter and add 2 Tbs. hot milk, and 1 Tbs. almond extract. Add enough confectioner’s sugar to make a frosting of spreading consistency (the recipe says “2 cups,” but I’ve always noticed that’s not usually correct). You can make even more frosting if you like a lot of frosting.
Let cake cool to at least lukewarm, and spread generously with the frosting. Then cut into small pieces and store (or eat!).
I have no powers of resistance for this particular treat.
Hinderaker writes that the story of the post-revolution mistreatment of Christians in Egypt has been “mysteriously underreported.” I’m not sure what’s so mysterious about it: most of the MSM has a very short attention span, and they are also very strongly invested in their previous story of how wonderful the Egyptian rebels are and what a great society they will create. The persecution of Christians that’s been unleashed contaminates the narrative. What’s more, many of the mainstream Christian churches in this country and Western Europe have become strongly liberal or even far left, and criticizing the behavior of people in third world countries would be a violation of some of the PC Commandments.
The number of voters who identify as independents rather than members of any political party has been growing.
Is it any wonder? The behavior of each party as a whole, and the disarray and/or corruption and/or stupidity and/or shortsightedness of so many of its elected representatives, falls far short of what we’d like to see in what used to be called our public servants.
However, I’ve got another theory about the growth of the block of independent voters (in whose ranks, by the way, I number myself). I think few of them are really true independents, the sort of people who just might vote Republican one election cycle and Democrat the next. I bet a sizable number almost never cross party lines, except perhaps in some local elections, but are pretty much wedded to one party or other in their actual voting behavior. The word “independent” is just for show in those cases.
If I’m correct (and I have no statistics to back it up), then why would this be? Some of it is the aforementioned dissatisfaction with the parties and politics as a whole; you can be angry at a certain party and not want to give it the satisfaction of joining, but still ally yourself very very reliably with its policies and its candidates.
In addition, there are the state primaries. Some of them require party affiliation in order to vote (closed), but a growing number are now open to all and this favors an increase in the number of people who call themselves independents because they are no longer shut out of the process.
And then there is the considerable attraction of the very word “independent.” Don’t we all like to think of ourselves as unowned by anyone, thinking independently and creatively and flexibly? The label “independent” instantly conveys that impression, whether or not the person adopting it actually exhibits those traits, or is instead the sort who doesn’t follow what’s going on except in a very surface way, ignoring the candidates and the issues until the last minute and then making a decision based on random superficial characteristics.
