Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader wishes you all a safe and happy Halloween. It looks like Villainette #1 will be a witch, Villainette #2 will be a pirate and the Wee Villain will be Spiderman for Trick-or-Treating tonight.
Your Maximum Leader will accompany, of course.
He will be dressed like a serial killer…
Because they look like anyone…
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader does this because all the other cool kids are doing it.
And one with less color:
Carry on.
My apologies to the Maximum Leader for my paucity of perspicacious posts in recent months.
I’ve got victory disease.
No, it’s not that I’ve conquered the Pacific and overrun my initial Greater East Asian objectives and acquired an arrogance that will only be cured by atomic fire.
I teach AP US History. I’m pretty good at it.
Teaching AP is a chore; most teachers are too sane to volunteer for duty. When I started teaching here in Harrisonburg I had 22 kids. Four years later, I have 45.
When I started teaching AP, I had an extra planning period for grading and preparation. Since there are now two AP classes (45 kids won’t fit into my room and I wouldn’t want them to), they had to take the plannine period away. So I have twice the essays to grade and half the time.
Not that I’m complaining, mind you: it is the reality of the job. Well, perhaps I’m complaining a bit.
The numbers have jumped because I am drawing in the science and math and arts kids who heard that the class is fun and that they are likely to do very well on the high stakes exam.
Many of these new kids do not take AP European in their sophomore year. So I have to cover more material to get them up to speed. But how can I complain when I arrange to have extra class sessions after school and 75% of the class voluntarily shows up for another hour and a half of history?
So my level of energy is shot - I haven’t had much left to wander over and be a good little minion of the Maximum Leader.
Otherwise, life is sweet. Emilie just turned five and is starting to read. Jack is now three, and the wee Ben is nine months.
I have a great wife who is giving my kids a fun childhood and even takes care of the farm animals when I am late at school for an AP activity. It would be nice to have some more couple time, but we’ve made choices (kids, jobs, and the farm) that make that hard. In a few years when the kids are more independent we’ll have regular date nights. In the meantime, we can still have rousing intellectual rows over politics (I’ve got a doozy to report).
As an added bonus, my wife, like Ben Franklin’s wife, doesn’t mind that I’ve fathered a child with another woman.
Oops. Did I say that out loud?
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has a bad case of the sniffles. He supposes the fall alergy season is upon him and he needs to get back on his allergy medication and some decongestants. For a condition that is reasonably harmless (watery eyes, stuffy sinues, runny nose), it can really make you feel like crap. And when you feel like crap, you probably shouldn’t blog.
(Excursus: Your Maximum Leader thought that perhaps the good Smallholder would post some more yesterday… But apparently he blew is proverbial wad the day before with his amusement concerning William Henry Seward. By the way… Care to see the Smallholder in front of William Henry Seward’s House? Clicky here for the image. Three posts in one day… Should we expect a three month wait now before another post?)
Now some of you might be wondering about the title of this post… Iglooit. Well, your Maximum Leader has learned that iglooit is the plural of igloo. You know iglooit. The snow/ice block shelters built by the Inuit. Villainette #1 had a school project that required her to learn all about iglooit. She also had to build one. Mrs Villain suggested using sugar cubes to build an igloo. This seemed like a sensible idea. The sugar cubes would approximate the texture and color of snow. It seemed to make sense. And your Maximum Leader assumed that (the elementary school teacher) Mrs Villain had done some sort of project like this in the past. Well… He assumed incorrectly. She’d never done anything like this before.
Well… Allow your Maximum Leader to tell you something. Building an igloo out of sugar cubes is a royal pain in your arse. It might have been a little easier if we had used a fast drying glue. But we had a large supply of Elmer’s white glue, and that was the binding medium of choice. Eventually, your Maximum Leader had to shore up the interior with wads of (removable) paper towels to keep the structure from collapsing while drying. Mrs Villain decided to use some leftover vanilla cake icing as a mortar on the exterior of the structure (sort of like the Inuit using loose snow to fill in any gaps or cracks between blocks).
Now your Maximum Leader has described his role and Mrs Villain’s role in building this quasi-confectionary igloo. Allow him to assure you that the majority of the work was in fact done by Villainette #1. While the total effect is not Hollywood-special-effects-model quality; it is perfectly fine for a 5th grade project for a 10 year old. The igloo is a little lopsided, but the effect is right.
Oh yes… Your Maximum Leader forgot to mention the role of Villainette #2 and the Wee Villain in all this construction. Villainette #2 felt her role was that of building inspector. Her comments were “it’s leaning over too much here” and “you shouldn’t leave so much space over here” and “I don’t think that looks like a dome.” Villainette #2 was eventually banished from the construction site. The Wee Villain felt his role was to check the quality of the building materials. So he would come and sneak up and steal sugar cubes from the box and then run away and eat them. The would also dip his fingers into the cake icing and then lick them clean.
Your Maximum Leader imagines that he’ll be finding partially eaten sugar cubes and globs of icing all over the house for the next week…
Carry on.
Steve-O the Llama Butcher just made me guffaw:
“What would William Seward do?”
Of course, I always call him William Henry Seward. In fact, the eldest male wee Smallholder is named Jack William Henry Smallholder.
Besides wanting to paint the map British American Red from Cairo Hudson Bay to Capetown Tierra Del Fuego, he was an abolitionist who was considered too radical to get the 1860 nomination. He became one of America’s greatest Secretaries of State and played a key role in putting down the secessionist slavocracy sedition.
Steve-O linked to a Christian Science Monitor article describing a nascent independence movement in Greenland. I was particularly amused by one of the local idiots opposed to independence:
“Aqqaluk Lynge, head of the Inuit Circumpolar Council’s Greenland chapter, agrees. “We are afraid that the United States will take over Greenland if the Danes get out,” he says. “If Americans can take Iraq, then why not Greenland?”
Indeed, sources say that even if Greenland becomes independent – an event supporters see as at least a decade away – it will keep very close ties to Denmark, in large part out of fears of US hegemony. “
Meanwhile, in the secret underground lair, Darth Cheney’s mad Machiavellian machinations continue:
“Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Greenland will be hours. We will feast on the entrails of the Inuit!”
“But sir,” stammers the stunted minion, “Greenland is constitutionally linked to Denmark! An attach on Greenland will trigger a Danish counterattack!”
“Bah! Foiled again!” Wailed the Vice President/Prince of Darkness, “If it weren’t for the invincible Danish army, we would rule the world. But we’d best bide our time for now. Eventually, those omnipotent Danes will make a mistake. Bwa-ha-ha-ha!”
I’m sorry for the dearth of posting.
I’ve been busy.
So busy, in fact, that I have totally not been paying attention to entertainment news. For instance, I have no idea who won the Emmy for best supporting actress in a comedy.
I guess I can safely assume it was not “she of the enormous forehead,” or the Maximum Leader would have let us know.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader would really like to just sit around and do nothing today. Not like he did much over the weekend. Let us ennumerate those things he did, shall we?
Friday night - played host to a Villainschloss full of 10 year olds for a sleepover in honor of Villainette #1’s recent birthday. As part of playing host he cooked up about 10 pounds of pork roast using sea-salt, a little coconut, and some liquid smoke. Then he served this bounty with a pineapple/mango salsa. The kids (and the few moms who hung out with us) loved it. Your Maximum Leader also drank rum drinks out of a large tiki mug. Did your Maximum Leader mention that Villainette #1’s party had a “Hawaiian” theme?
Saturday - woke up before the crack of dawn, drove 40 miles to get the tire of the Villainmobile changed. Left the tire place, took wrong turn while listening to The Economist podcast, traveled about 20 miles in wrong direction before coming too and realizing mistake. Then drove hour home. Then cooked breakfast (eggs - fried and scrambled, grits - with and without cheese, sausage - spicy and mild, toast, and fruit salad) for children. Sent visiting children on their way. Went grocery shopping. Read half of a Flashman novel. Tidied up in the back yard. Watched some college football. Played Medieval Total War II - as the Russians (enjoyed killing Turks and Poles - Hungarians are next). Drank some bourbon out of a regular glass. Stayed up late watching TV - including the mediocre “13th Warrior” (your Maximum Leader wishes they would make more Viking movies…).
Sunday - woke up late. Read Luke 7:36-50 with children. Explained parable to Villainettes - to little success. Played a little Medieval Total War II - continued game as the Russians (enjoyed killing Poles and rebels - Turks agreed to alliance for giving up Crimea. Hungarians avoided war by surrendering a province). Then watched football.
Your Maximum Leader watched he beloved Packers pay a wide-open game against the Chargers. He was pleased with the victory, but disappointed that the Pack have no running game to speak of. This was painfully evident when the Pack had a First and Goal on the 1.5 yard line and threw four consecutive (failed) passes to try and score. They turned over the ball on downs. It was sad. Your Maximum Leader is starting to wonder if the Packers might actually be one of the best teams in the NFC this year. That doesn’t mean too much as the AFC is still pretty much loaded and will likely beat up on the NFC in the Super Bowl.
Your Maximum Leader then watched the Redskins lose to the NY Giants. What the hell happened in that game. Your Maximum Leader thought that the throwback uniforms were embued with powerful ju-ju - but only half a game worth of ju-ju apparently. At the half your Maximum Leader was willing to lay money down that the Skins would whollop the Giants. But it was not to be. The Giants came back and spanked the Skins. Very sad.
Speaking of throwbacks… Your Maximum Leader doesn’t like any Philadelphia sports team. He especially dislikes the Flyer and the Eagles. But there was something delightfully tacky about the Eagles throwback uniforms. He hopes that the Eagles wear them the rest of the season.
Your Maximum Leader (during the Skins game) grilled a delightful flank steak, made garlic bread, steamed some squash from the garden, and cooked up some rice. Devoured all of this while watching game. (Also ate some kimchee he got at Giant with the rice. He’s been eating lots of kimchee recently. While a lot to him is probably not a lot to a Korean, he does enjoy a some with dinner. He’s eaten a 16oz jar in one week.)
Then your Maximum Leader watched the first three quarters of the Bears/Cowboys contest. He was pulling (as much as he could) for the Cowboys - because it would help the Packers. But it didn’t feel right doing so.
Then your Maximum Leader headed off the sleepytime. He doesn’t know why he should feel so tired today, but he does.
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader, as you may know, is the father of three. The youngest of his brood is 3 years old. Last night he was given cause to wonder, now he will give you cause to wonder…
When a little kid in on the receiving end of a minor injury (real or imagined) often the application of a small band-aid somewhere on their body is enough to take care of the injury and the resulting fuss about the injury.
Before there were band-aids what did people use?
Did they keep around an old gauzy shirt and just tear off a piece and wrap it around the affected area a la a John Wayne western? Did moms daub the injury with a damp towel and speak in a soft, soothing voice? Did a kid’s friends just rub some dirt on the injury and say “Okay, you’re fine now.”?
Your Maximum Leader doesn’t remember soliciting band-aids when he was younger (although it is possible that he did). But your Maximum Leader sure knows that his children just love the band-aids.
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader rarely blogs about his family, in a direct sort of way at least. But today, his lovely eldest daughter is 10 years old today. He knows she will not see this, but he wishes her a happy birthday. He’ll be grilling steaks for her tonight, at her request.
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader will point out to you a few items he has mentally filed under the heading “cosmic injustice.”
Sir Paul McCartney… Ringo Starr.
Sir Mick Jagger… Keith Richards.
And he is not Sir David Bowie…
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader’s best buddy just turned 38 today.
Happy Birthday Kevin. Many happy returns…
May your appetizers be prompt and your turds be not claw hammer shaped. At least for one more year.
God bless you my brother. I miss having you around.
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has a problem. It is a problem of association. This is not to say that he has a problem with his associates. He doesn’t. He has a problem with mental associations.
Perhaps some background is in order…
As readers know, your Maximum Leader is the father of three wonderful kids. He is a pretty good father, as best he can tell. And it seems like his kids are turning out okay.
The eldest of his three children, Villainette #1, is an avid reader. You can give her a stack of books and a quiet place and she will just read and read. It is good to see. (She will, alas, also spend hours and hours in front of the TV if given the opportunity. Which she is not given often…) Recently she’s been moving up to young adult novels recommended (eg: vetted) by her mother, a teacher.
She recently finished a book about a young girl who moves into the “wild west” with her family in the 1880s. Your Maximum Leader does not know the details of the plot of this book, or even its title. But he now knows something that was said in the book. It seems as though one of the boys in this story is something of a cowboy. When this boy does something exciting or daring he was prone to yell out “Yippie ki yay!” Well… Villainette #1 thought this phrase was pretty cool. So she’s been repeating it.
Last weekend, before heading off to the beach, the whole family went to a pool party. Villainette #1 would run and jump into the pool yelling out “Yippie ki yay!” Now… Your Maximum Leader, like so many others his age, ran out in the summer of 1988 and saw Die Hard when it came out in the theatres. Do you see where this is going? Every time his lovely 10 years old Villainette ran and jumped into the pool yelling “Yippie ki yay” your Maximum Leader expected the next word out of her sweet little mouth to be “motherfucker.”
Your Maximum Leader hates to admit it; but frankly in his mind there is a permanent association between the words “yippie ki yay” and “motherfucker.” Depending on his mood he hears this phrase spoken by both Bruce Willis and Alan Rickman. When your Maximum Leader is feeling particularly evil it is the Alan Rickman delivery. Now, unfortunately, when he hears his beautiful and intelligent daughter yelling out the first part of the phrase he now imagines her yelling out the second part as well. It is quite distressing.
He’s tried to get the sound of his mind. He’s tried thinking of Tom Mix, Roy Rogers, the Lone Ranger, Marshall Matt Dillon, and Ben Cartwright. Any of those men would have said the first words, without the second. He tried singing “Coyotes” in his mind to put the offending word out of his mind. Alas… No good…
After the family returned from the pool party, and the kids had been put to bed; your Maximum Leader mentioned this problem to the lovely Mrs. Villain. She informed your Maximum Leader that he would just have to get over it and put it out of his mind. That was a movie, and this is his daughter… Well… Mrs. Villain called your Maximum Leader to fill him in on the plans for her (and the kids’) return. She also admitted that all week when Villainette #1 was jumping into the pool and crying out the words “Yippie ki yay” she heard the follow-on in her mind…
Lucky for both of us the summer is almost over and the opportunity for Villainette #1 to use the phrase appears to be gowing short.
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader can’t find the right words to summarize his thoughts on a piece he read on the new wires. He will let the article stand without comment.
Testicle surgery mystifies police.
ST. PAUL, Minn. - When conventional medical professionals refused to remove a 62-year-old local man’s testicles, police said he turned to mysterious “professionals” to relieve what he called chronic pain.Now police want to find the fly-by-night surgeons.
“I have never in my life seen anything quite like that,” said St. Paul police spokesman Tom Walsh.
According to a search warrant affidavit filed Monday, the man complained of chronic pain and turned to conventional medical personnel to remove his testicles.
When they refused, the 62-year-old man said he hired other “professionals” to do the surgery. He would not tell officers who they were, saying he didn’t want to get them into trouble.
Police said a couple of weeks ago, two or three people operated on the man in his home. He was unconscious. When he woke up, his testicles were gone. So were his “professionals.”
His groin area was bleeding heavily, so he called his daughter. She called for help.
Police found an improvised operating room in the man’s house, with bright lights, an apparent operating table, a camera and various medical supplies and equipment. There was also blood in several rooms of the house.
Oy!
The only thing your Maximum Leader can think to say is that if he had chronic pain in the groin, the LAST option he would consider would be surgical removal of his testes. Indeed, he would contemplate a horrid death first.
Carry on.
Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was looking over the new wires when he saw this piece about Oscar the death predicting cat.
According to the piece:
Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours. His accuracy, observed in 25 cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live.
[…]
The 2-year-old feline was adopted as a kitten and grew up in a third-floor dementia unit at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. The facility treats people with Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s disease and other illnesses.After about six months, the staff noticed Oscar would make his own rounds, just like the doctors and nurses. He’d sniff and observe patients, then sit beside people who would wind up dying in a few hours.
Dosa said Oscar seems to take his work seriously and is generally aloof. “This is not a cat that’s friendly to people,” he said.
Humm… An aloof and serious cat who only takes an interest in you when you are hours from death… Sounds like a real winner pet to your Maximum Leader!
Your Maximum Leader will, he is sure, stick to dogs.
Carry on.
