Monday, 11 August 2008
We lost a good one
I have just learned of the passing of Bernie Mac. What a shock. The man was only 50 years old--younger than I, when he succumbed to pneumonia in hospital this past Saturday. Many people are funny, as Bernie most definitely was, but Bernie was a genuinely nice guy, born into poverty in Chicago, did well for himself, chose not to go to Hollywood and was married for 30 years. RIP, Bernie
Here's to my sweet Satan
When I was growing up listening to hard rock, I never paid much attention to rumours of Satanic messages contained in such songs when played backwards. For one thing, my record player (and my 8-track) didn't play backwards. Anyway, in my meanderings this evening, I came across one such story. Wikipedia was good enough to contain a sound clip for me to judge for myself. I found it fascinating that so many consecutive words sound very much like actual words. Listen for yourself:
Click Here
Click Here
Sunday, 10 August 2008
Mackerel! Fresh Mackerel!
One recent Friday, I was remarking to a friend that I was rushing off to buy some fresh fish at my favourite supermarket before it was picked over. Upon quick reflection, I caught myself and corrected it to "fresher" fish.
My arrival proved my point as I surveyed tag after tag indicating "Previously Frozen". We race to the supermarket in order to have the pick of "fresher" fish--previously frozen fish that isn't quite as gnarly as other fish that isn't fresh, either. It's a reflection of the times we live in, is it not? If you're over 40, you probably remember the ma and pa fish store that your mom would visit and get really fresh fish--only fresh fish. It was very recently that you could at least get fresh fish on Thursdays, the typical delivery day ahead of the traditional Friday Fresh Fish Fest. No longer.
"Fresh fish" reminds me of the birth (pun intended) of the term "safe sex" and the soon thereafter coining of "safer sex" as it became evident that we could no longer get "fresh" sex, either...especially if one were gay. Not that I am. And not that there's anything wrong with that.
Speaking of fruits...have you ever noticed that much of the fruit you buy today from peaches to melons are hard as rocks? In the never-ending quest for bigger and bigger profits, corporations, which now own just about the entire food retail market, are having produce picked before it is ripe so that wastage through spoilage is reduced. It seems we can't get much "fresh" fruit anymore, either.
On the bright side, we can now get fresh news thanks to the internet. However, since half a billion people are blogging their own brand of news, it tends to be watered down, these days, like drinks in many bars, these days...and like sports with the ever-increasing number of franchises, these days...and...
My arrival proved my point as I surveyed tag after tag indicating "Previously Frozen". We race to the supermarket in order to have the pick of "fresher" fish--previously frozen fish that isn't quite as gnarly as other fish that isn't fresh, either. It's a reflection of the times we live in, is it not? If you're over 40, you probably remember the ma and pa fish store that your mom would visit and get really fresh fish--only fresh fish. It was very recently that you could at least get fresh fish on Thursdays, the typical delivery day ahead of the traditional Friday Fresh Fish Fest. No longer.
"Fresh fish" reminds me of the birth (pun intended) of the term "safe sex" and the soon thereafter coining of "safer sex" as it became evident that we could no longer get "fresh" sex, either...especially if one were gay. Not that I am. And not that there's anything wrong with that.
Speaking of fruits...have you ever noticed that much of the fruit you buy today from peaches to melons are hard as rocks? In the never-ending quest for bigger and bigger profits, corporations, which now own just about the entire food retail market, are having produce picked before it is ripe so that wastage through spoilage is reduced. It seems we can't get much "fresh" fruit anymore, either.
On the bright side, we can now get fresh news thanks to the internet. However, since half a billion people are blogging their own brand of news, it tends to be watered down, these days, like drinks in many bars, these days...and like sports with the ever-increasing number of franchises, these days...and...
Friday, 8 August 2008
Thursday, 7 August 2008
I made a tomato
Tonight, I enjoyed my first apartment-grown tomato. I hadn't grown anything since losing my home (and garden) to the ravages of divorce and other factors. Back when I was an avid gardener, I used to grow as many as 30 or more different vegetables--yes, my garden was huge. Anyway, I used to say it then and I was just reminded of it--home grown tomatoes are almost like a different vegetable when compared to store-bought. The colour, texture and flavour is incomparable, mine possessing a deeper, richer, red colour, meatier texture and like I alluded, a taste that absolutely excites the taste buds.
I wouldn't necessarily recommend growing tomatoes indoors, though. This was my first try at doing so and it was rife with obstacles and the yield will be extremely scanty. It never occurred to me that I need to manually pollinate the plant (nature never figured that one day mammals would attempt to garden indoors, I guess) until most of the blooms had sprouted and faded. I had to move the plant several times a day in order to expose it to sufficient sunlight and nature also didn't help out in the watering department, forcing me to keep a watchful eye and act accordingly.
Still, the act of slowly and lovingly nurturing something and watching it flourish into a beautiful thing was very rewarding. Eating the son-of-a-bitch was even more rewarding. It's pretty much the same with rearing children--except without the rewarding part.
Stay tuned for my recipe for "tomato and cucumber salad".
I wouldn't necessarily recommend growing tomatoes indoors, though. This was my first try at doing so and it was rife with obstacles and the yield will be extremely scanty. It never occurred to me that I need to manually pollinate the plant (nature never figured that one day mammals would attempt to garden indoors, I guess) until most of the blooms had sprouted and faded. I had to move the plant several times a day in order to expose it to sufficient sunlight and nature also didn't help out in the watering department, forcing me to keep a watchful eye and act accordingly.
Still, the act of slowly and lovingly nurturing something and watching it flourish into a beautiful thing was very rewarding. Eating the son-of-a-bitch was even more rewarding. It's pretty much the same with rearing children--except without the rewarding part.
Stay tuned for my recipe for "tomato and cucumber salad".
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