future sex...
Ok, maybe what I'm trying to say is that the future has turned out to be a lot like sex, sometimes... the anticipation was far better than the fulfillment of same...
Remember those great old magazines of the fifties and sixties, that promised, one day, you'd be flitting about the skies in your own personal helicopter, or live in a self cleaning house complete with mechanical servants that would bring you dinner as you sat before a holographic fireplace, reading the evenings 3D newspaper, after sweating out a four hour work day? How about those gleaming automobiles, that looked like either Flash Gordon's Rocketship or a stainless steel Hudson Hornet (I'd settle for either one), that drove themselves to wherever you might command, while you caught a quick forty or chatted with your equally mobile family members via the transceiver implanted in your brain? How about all those cities encased in sky-high glass domes, with climate control, no crime and automated taxicabs? Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, fellow time travelers, but it ain't gonna happen. They lied. My personal helicopter turned out to be a Buick, that transceiver turned out to be a cheap ass cellphone that I wish was never invented and the only mechanical servant plodding the halls of Stately Sad Old Goth Manor® is yours truly.
The future never looked so bright... anyway, as Kid Various has been wont to say on occasion, "Where's my fucking robot"?!?
If you want to get even more depressed or just have a laugh at what was supposed to be, click the pic of the good old Popular Mechanics magazine to be swept away into the future that should have been...

Enjoy and try not to get too depressed, I mean, there's still hope, right?
later
what say you..?

grrrrrrr..!!!
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!
what say you..?

I saw, today, a sundog...
and just a few minutes ago, I saw a shooting star... Yes, yes, I know that the sundog was an optical effect caused by ice crystals suspended in the atmosphere, and I know that the shooting star was really a piece of space dust, probably no bigger than a grain of sand, burning up in the upper regions of that same atmosphere, but, maybe I don't want to know that. Maybe that's what's wrong with everyone these days; maybe we know too much. Perhaps we've been so long covered with the veil of knowing that we're afraid to peek out from behind it now and then, to take things as they are, without pondering the truth to some infinite degree. We've killed wonder, you know. Bloody well slaughtered it in the name of knowledge and fact and truth. We've driven ourselves crazy with the need to know what the reason is for everything around us, made it some sort of bizarre quest, like some crazed prospector chasing the legend of some long lost gem of unequaled quality and worth, and when it's been uncovered and brought to the light, half of it's value is gone, because the mystery of it has been cast aside for the reality of the prize. Such it is with most everything these days, at least in my view. I sit outside on such a rare night as this is, one where I can enjoy the stars of the winter sky without freezing and, while the beauty of it is not lost on me, it is diminished by my knowing that they're not just stars anymore, they're spinning balls of burning hydrogen and helium and oxygen and what ever else might be in their particular mix, consuming themselves as they travel ever outward from the center of the bold event that spawned them. I don't want to know that, not really. I just want to see them as stars. Twinkling, mysterious lights in the night sky, familiar in the patterns that can be traced to form the constellations, Aries the ram, the twins Gemini, Orion the mighty hunter, holding up the golden fleece in triumph of finding his prize... That is the prize I seek; But, as it is with all things, once you learn them, you just can't unlearn them. Like I've said before, you can't unread a book. Remember it or not, every word, every picture it painted in your mind, every emotion, has been cataloged away in your brain, to come out now and then when the mood strikes it, to remind you of itself; such it is with knowledge. Once you know something, you know it, whether you want to or not. It changes the very way you perceive things, it changes your very self. It doesn't ever go away and no matter how hard you try to not think about it, if you know something, well, you just know it.
Now, please don't get me wrong, there is nothing bad about knowledge, it's just that, in my own humble opinion, of course, that it might be better if it were metered out according to the path in life you might choose to tread. Most of us aren't given that choice. We have it hammered into our heads that we need to know everything we can possibly learn in order to succeed, to get that job that brings in the bucks to allow us to surround ourselves with things so you can, well, so you can enjoy life... And that very knowledge is what diminishes the wonder of the life we're supposed to enjoy... Sort of ironic, isn't it, in it's own sick little way.
But, then again, I suppose you couldn't decide if you really wanted to know something or not without learning it and then, well, it's too late. Quite the conundrum, isn't it?
Well, one thing I know is that I do have a tendency to ramble on about things when I'm under the influence of alcohol and pain killers, as I am right now. I'm not quite sure if any of this makes sense right now. Actually, I don't care, it's just gut spilling on a Saturday night, as I am wont to do at times.
Think about it though; I'm sure that there's things in your life that aren't quite as wonderful as they used to be, just because you know a little too much about them.
Perhaps I shall spend the rest of this night sitting in the candle lit manor and listening to some music. But not Mozart. As much as I love him, I've had my fill of him recently, this month being the 250th anniversary of his birth, the classical radio stations have been just awash with his works and, believe me, he was prolific... It's been nice to hear things that I haven't had the opportunity to hear before, but like it goes sometimes, too much of a good thing is always too much, no matter how good. Perhaps I shall dredge through the dreaded New Age section of the music library tonight, put on something nice and shallow and spacey and fade away into the dark along with the tapers in the candelabras in the parlor and dining hall, as they will, most certainly, do...
I bid thee fair eve, fellow wanderers. Fare thee well.
what say you..?

oh, fuck me...
the end of times is upon us...
click here...
I've got to stop surfing the internets®... damn you, AlGore..
what say you..?

see the Shroud of Hoboken...
and other wonderful things at The Museum of Depressionist Art...
what say you..?

sorry...
for the idle stretch. I haven't been feeling all that well lately and don't seem to be getting anywhere with my current choice of physician. I don't have a regular doctor, never did, I prefer to handle matters myself unless they seem outside the scope of my abilities. However, I've some lingering symptoms for many months that have suddenly intensified and are giving me some real grief. The learned medical types don't seem to realize that I'm pretty in tune with my body; I know what hurts, what feels odd, and the frequency of the symptoms and how they've intensified over recent time. It is my opinion that I have some sort of systemic infection, perhaps a recurrence of Lyme disease, which has bothered me in the past. I described the symptoms and their spread with great detail, only to be told it's probably something else, so I went off for x-rays, cat scans and blood work last weekend and was given a prescription for something that was supposed to help. It didn't. The pictures came back inconclusive and apparently either the hospital or the doctor lost the results of the blood work, so I'm back to square one. That being said, I think I will go directly to an infectious disease specialist and see where that goes. All I know is that I am not well. Not at all.
Anyway, I'll be back over the weekend sometime when I feel more like spouting the usual blather than complaining.
be well.

what say you..?

Emeril LaGothy..!
Yep, the recent cold weather has brought your favorite Goth Chef out of the coffin with another recipe from the depths of the scullery at Stately Sad Old Goth Manor! It's soup time! Here's one of my favorites, loaded with good stuff to ward off the cold without and within!
Chicken and Andouille Sausage Almost Gumbo Soup
* 5 tbs vegetable oil
* about a pound of Andouille Sausage, chopped into bite size pieces (1/2 inch or so)
* about a pound and a half of boneless chicken breast
* 1 1/2 quarts low fat chicken broth
* 1/3 cup all purpose flour
* one medium yellow onion, diced
* three stalks of celery, diced
* one medium green pepper, diced
* two carrots, thinly sliced into rounds
* three cloves of garlic, minced
* 1 tsp ground thyme
* 2 tsp Tabasco or your favorite hot sauce (according to taste)
* 1/4 tsp salt
* 1/8 tsp fresh ground black pepper
* three scallions, chopped
* 1/2 cup of chopped fresh parsley

---

Ok, this is going to take a while, so pour yourself a glass of wine and let's go:

Heat about 2 tbs of vegetable oil in a large, cast iron dutch oven over medium heat; add the sausage and cook until browned (about ten minutes, stir occasionally); when it's done, remove it with a slotted spoon and set it aside.
Add the chicken breasts to the hot oil and cook until it's well browned, turning occasionally. When it's browned all over, add the chicken broth, bring to a boil, cover and simmer until the chicken is tender, about twenty minutes. When it's done, remove the chicken and set it aside to cool off a bit, then, using a fork, shred it into bite size pieces. Hold it aside for now. Remove the dutch oven from the heat for now.
In a large sauce pan, combine 3 tsb of vegetable oil and the flour and cook it over medium heat, stirring constantly, until it is dark brown. This takes about twenty minutes or so. When it's ready, add the onions, celery, pepper, carrots and garlic and cook about ten minutes, or until the peppers are tender. (I added about a half cup water, as it was getting a bit thick to manage while it cooked, I probably added a bit too much flour; use your own judgment).
Add this mix to the chicken stock in the dutch oven, along with the thyme, hot sauce, salt and pepper; Bring it to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered for about 45 minutes, then add the sausage and chicken and simmer for another 15 minutes; add the parsley and scallions and remove it from the heat; let it sit about 15 minutes before serving.
I'm going to serve it by placing a mound of hot dirty rice in the center of a bowl, then ladle the soup around it, with some fresh cornbread muffins and lots of cold beer.
I call this almost gumbo, because there's no okra or file in the recipe, but the roux made with the flour and oil makes it just as thick as a traditional gumbo.
The whole thing takes about two and a half hours from start to finish, but it's worth the effort.
Enjoy!

what say you..?

an odd day...
t'was today. I spent most of it having my blood let and being blasted by x-rays (rayos-x, as it said on the Spanish sign in the x-ray room; sounds like a sixties band, doesn't it?). Anyway, I'm home now and relaxing by surfing the net, as usual, when I stumbled across the most amazing doll house I've ever scene. Actually, I take that back, it's not a doll house, it's a miniature house, one so astounding that, if I were to ever build a full sized Bag End for myself, I would refer to this as a working model. The craftsmanship is exquisite and the devotion to the craft necessary to do something like this is most commendable. Just click the picture to take a tour of the miniature Bag End...
I think the Mssr's Baggins would be most pleased...




what say you..?

there must be something...
in the air out there in Minnesota... oh, just click the picture, as, for once, I'm speechless...

what say you..?

Spiral Scouts...

At last, an alternative to the increasingly intolerant Boy Scouts / Girl Scouts of Amerika! Makes me wish I was a kid again. What a wonderful way to introduce young people to the joys of the natural world and respect for all ways of life and different beliefs. They seem like a very positive, well meaning organization and I'm going to support them by adding them to my sidebar. Check them out, let me know what you think.
what say you..?

for your pleasure...
I noticed that, when viewed on another computer today, my blog looked a little off. I checked the font database and a few of the fonts that I feature throughout were not loaded. They are Nosfer and the Nosferatu Suite, including italic. If you don't have them on your system, you can download them, and a lot of other great fonts here, for free!
I also added a direct e-mail link to the sidebar, just click on the crazy little flying bat...
Time for dinn-dinn... home-made ziti with meat sauce, fresh garlic loaf, killer salad and some Bolla Chianti! If I can move after that, I'll be back!
what say you..?

gee...
I wonder what channel was on..?
what say you..?

I hate this day...
I undid Christmas today. I took down the garlands, I took down the tree, I took the candles out of the windows; I put away all the Christmas candy dishes and the Christmas candle holders and the various odds and ends that deck the halls of Stately Sad Old Goth Manor and it makes me so very, very sad. Heathen that I am, there is something very grounding in all the shiny stuff that makes the Manor seem so much alive during the winter holiday season. Not to say that the Manor is any less alive during the rest of the year, but Christmas, especially this year, was so very, very wonderful.
You know, sometimes the Manor is not unlike the Addams Family house, it has it's dour moments, but for the most part, it is a place of wonder and love and good will. It evolves constantly. It's a beautiful place... It's just that more beautiful around Christmas. The Mrs. and I live here, always, but there are always daughters who come and go, friends who find solace here and the eternal cats...
I guess what I'm trying to say is that, in spite of my heathen ways, Christmas means so much to me; I can't explain why, other than it make me feel like a kid again, when Christmas was full of wonder...
So, anyway, I took down the tree today, to put up the empty corner of the living room, to celebrate the rest of the year.


what say you..?

A very merry...
Twelfthnight to one and all.
what say you..?

BAH..!
You know, in spite of what I look like and in spite of the blather I spew here once in a while, I'm basically a nice guy... I don't ask for much out of life and, to a fault, I've been told, I tend to put the needs and wants of others before mine... If anything, I probably am guilty of, when the occasion calls for such things, throwing some pretty extravagant parties; not necessarily big parties, but pretty elegant, as much as my humble means will allow. If you're my guest and you like a particular libation, I make sure there's plenty on hand; if there's a special food you always crave, I'll have it. When the halls of Stately Sad Old Goth Manor are filled with merry makers, I make sure they are merry, indeed. As for myself, there's a few things I really enjoy; a nice pint or two or ten of Guinness when we barbecue; a special bottle or two from the cellar to go with a special dinner; and, as you may have read here from time to time, on New Year's Eve, there's always caviar. Maybe not the top drawer stuff, but caviar, none the less. It's the one indulgence I afford myself, once a year... So, what do I read in the New York Times today? (yeah, I read the Times once in a while... like Confucius say, "to know your enemy, one must be as your enemy...")
There is a caviar BLOCKADE!!! Some nonsense about sturgeon being in short supply or something or other. Good jumping Jesus up a tree, how the hell has it come to this? Surely, at $9,000.00 + a pound for bloody fish eggs, they can't be in that much demand! And I know that no one is catching those damned things to have mounted to hang on the wall of their den, they look like freaking dinosaurs! It's got to be the damned Arabs! They're the only ones, besides the Long Island Democrats, who have enough money to eat the stuff out of existence! And I know it's not the Dems out in the Hamptons, because, believe me, caviar just does not go well with cheap white wine milked from cardboard boxes... take my word.
So, I guess I shall have to put my plans aside for convincing Mrs. SOG that the swimming pool just has to go and I'll have to open my own sturgeon farm, so I have a sturgeon or two to squeeze the eggs out of for next New Year's Eve! Either that or find a good bait shop somewhere... Just DAMN!!!
what say you..?

thank you...
Michelle, for your generous contribution to my further descent into ukulele madness..!
pearls before swine...

New Years Eve...
at Stately Sad Old Goth Manor was, once again, a very quiet and low key event. The house full of drunken revelers of years past has given way to an annual get together with our two best friends, sitting around the dining hall table, talking and picking on finger food and sipping martini's and Cosmopolitans and special gleanings from the wine cellar. At a few minutes before midnight, we popped a bottle of '96 Moet, watched the ball fall, toasted and kissed and returned to the table, to drink coffee and chat. Two more couples stopped by around one or so and we drank tea and coffee and a few more Cosmos. Everyone ushered out around three thirty and after cleaning up and doing the dishes, Mrs. SOG and I sat and watched "The Honeymooners" marathon until four thirty, and then we crashed out. I got up to watch the sunrise and went out for a paper, then spent the rest of the day watching football and nibbling on leftovers.
I watched the sun set, did some laundry and here I am.
Not an auspicious start to the new year, but a start none the less.

pearls before swine...