So the weather was remotely decent, it was a Saturday, it wasn't on an official holiday...who can guess what we did today?

Yes, off to the zoo again. This time a few more animals were out and about. First, the lorikeets. Here's one whose feathers were a bit ruffled by the rather heavy wind we experienced today:



I'm not entirely certain if this is a llama or an alpaca. Regardless, he trotted up to us, as if happy to see us.

Debra wanted to make sure I got a good photo of his ears down:

The ducks had assumedly just been fed, resulting in a veritable orgy of domestic and foreign ducks congregating around the foodstuffs.

And the red panda was out, and in a climbing mood, rather than a pacing mood. He climbed up to the top of the branch shown below, looked at us wearily, and closed his eyes, ostensibly for his afternoon nap.

My mistake for not getting the orangutans last time...here's one in a brief closeup through a window. The light is very poor inside, but I managed to get a shot of his face through the glass.

Big surprise, Overrated Kitty is still in the log. Pissy as could be expected. Still wanting to eat me.

And hooray! The binturong was out today. A note of no small sadness last time (he was put away, assumedly due to the cold), Señor Binturong was doing what he does best, sleeping like a pro.

Of course, our presence was a serious inconvenience, coming in the midst of his siesta.

In the Aussie birds section, the swans were a bit cheery at the lack of snow.

The sea gull from the previous post was testy but on the whole somewhat more good natured now that the water had thawed.

And these birds? What can I say...still weird as ever.

Up on the wall, a parrot-like bird with gorgeous red plumage.

And in the heavyweight class, the birds enter the emu into the contest...not a bird with which I would wish to have a spirited disagreement in person.

Australian singing dogs were out...a sort of wild dog similar to dingoes, as I recall.

And the red kangaroos were out:

The joey is visible in this photograph:

The wallabies were out as well, although hiding in the corner of their pen.

The sheep pen was littered with, what would you expect, sheep droppings, but also as you can see there is a bit of a sheep traffic jam as the flock tries to evade us by going into their pen, but finds that the gate has been closed on them.

What's the holdup, I'm sure they are wondering. Smelly but amusing animals, nonetheless.

Not the most gorgeous of God's creations, but the camels round out the Australian exhibit.

And while we paused to get a quick pretzel, as usual the peacocks were strolling around the plaza. What is with peacocks? They aren't ever exhibited as a foreign animal or anything that draws attention to them, but you find them running around in zoos, and Disneyland. Is their natural habitat theme parks?

Not a great photo, but quite a big, impressive bird...an Andean condor. Sequestered in a spot not listed on the zoo map (given that it contains pheasants and several varieties of turkey, I assumed they would name it the "Poultry Section").

Here's something I could not quite capture on film very well. We heard this before we saw it...hundreds of geese in nested V formations descending on us as we exited the zoo. Practically a tidal wave of geese. I was concerned that I did not wear my hat but thankfully it did not prove necessary. This is one of those situations when the 20 round drum magazine for the Saiga 12-gauge would prove useful. The Canadians are coming!

And finally, before leaving the zoo I had smoked a beef brisket for several hours over apple wood...then it went into the oven, and tonight while watching "The Magnificent Seven" on PBS, I got to enjoy brisket with Gates BBQ sauce and a glass of cherry melomel (a kind of mead).

In my efforts to clog blogger.com's servers with the produce of my Christmas gift, I have another visual blog entry this week.

So, as I have said, or rather, sung (to the tune of Israel Houghton, if that really IS his name) before, I am a Friend of the Zoo. And in my effort to bilk the zoo (of which I am supposed to be a Friend) out of all its money, I visit the zoo, along with my very patient wife, almost weekly, weather permitting (and sometimes weather reluctant) (three...no, four...parentheticals in two sentences, this is going too far!). It is good exercise and I get to say "hola" to the binturong.

Last Saturday, I took the camera along, and will post some highlights.

First, the fallow deer. They were huddled together, assumedly to keep warm.


Across from the old Ape House is a waterfowl exhibit; I can't recall what sort of bird this is, but it is some sort of stork or crane, and we recognize this particular one because the top of his bill is unfortunately broken off. At least he's in captivity, and will likely survive despite this.


Along with the exotic ducks and other waterfowl in the aforementioned exhibit are a group of freeloading domestic ducks. They fly in and hang out with the foreigners (whose wings I assume are clipped), probably eat their food. Freaking welfare ducks! Although I rather like ducks...one of them let out a cackling quack-laugh that was so loud the stork/crane above almost fell forward into the pond, but he caught himself.


Over in the former "Great Cat Walk" area (now the designated Asia exhibit) we saw the Red Panda, who as usual was out pacing back and forth, looking a little pissy, probably wishing he was as big as a real bear and somewhat less cute, so he could inspire fear and awe. His legs always struck me as bear-like, kind of thick and dark. Looks like a bear chassis with a squirrel body on top.


And here was an exhibit that caused us to quicken our pace...the Sumatran tiger, hiding inside his hollow log.


Here he is wishing for a taste of freedom, like his cousin in San Francisco, so that he could eat me. No such luck, pal.


Here come the candidates for "Most Pitiable". The Australian bird exhibit contained a bunch of very, very cold birds. Here was a black swan, who let out the whiniest little honk noises you've ever heard.


This white swan had the right idea. Excellent camoflauge, anyway!


Here's a seagull doing a little "invetigation" (name that British comedy series). Yes, Mr. Gull, the waterfall is in fact frozen.


Here he is again, after realizing the above, letting fly with some very salty language about those softies that got the gig in the heated Discovery Barn.


Some rather weird looking ducks trotting about....


And the winner of "Most Pitiable" goes to this weird looking bird, that walked up to us, shivering.


Off to the Discovery Barn, and the meerkats are as always dutifully on watch.


Weird little rats, aren't they?


These macaws are about the noisiest animals in the zoo. I play electric guitar, I shoot off noisy firearms, but when these things get going in that enclosed space it is ear-splitting.


I forget what these things are called, but they are some kind of rodent. Kind of like a porked-up guinea pig.


Closeup of one...I think he is somewhat perturbed by the fact that he shares an exhibit with the macaws. Getting pooped on by loud, obnoxious parrots has to put a damper on your mood. These poor things must all be deaf by now.


Picture didn't come out great here, but this is one of those funky Asian squirrels. I've frequently conjectured that "Cho Cho Beef" on skewers is actually a filet of one of these guys.


The squirrel monkeys can't really be captured by still images, as they jump around like crazy and do the most comically impressive acrobatic stunts. Here is one taking a very brief break:


Break is done, now he's considering whether to push his fellow inmate off the branch.


No, these frogs are not made of porcelain. Well, at least I assume. I didn't actually touch them to find out.


This goat always amuses me. Stubby legs, stout body, big head. Kind of a caricature more than an animal. I communicated such observations to him, and he promptly told me to sod off and turned his back to me. I didn't know goats were so touchy.


Lastly, here is a sea lion digging the rays.


And when we got home, an animal of similar proportions. My cat, immensely annoyed by the presence of sunlight during the daytime, trying to block out the light:

I had initially intended to start this post out with another link to a YouTube video of Bootsy and the Rubber Band, live circa the late 70s, but after previewing several versions of the song I had intended to post, I cannot in good conscience do so. Absolutely funk-o-matic bass playing, mind you, but lyrics-wise it is almost comically obscene, so no dice.

Anyway, my parents were kind enough to give Debra and me a digital camera, which I spent yesterday experimenting with. Very cool. So I decided to document my activity last night, which was to smoke a slab of spare ribs. This was my second attempt at ribs and I hoped to improve on my first attempt. Anyway, here is the humble budget grill upon which I am going to attempt to do this:


As you can see, it's not exactly pretty, or fancy. It is still holding together, barely, after a season of very hard usage. The bottom is almost completely rusted out, but it still holds together.

Here you can see the platter of ribs prior to smoking:


Preparation was fairly basic; I removed the membrane on the back and dumped a healthy amount of Fiorella's Jack Stack general purpose meat rub onto it, and rubbed it in. It sat overnight in the fridge after the dry rub went on.

And of course, the ideal companions for an evening in the cold tending the grill/smoker:


That would be a Wodehouse book, and a glass of homebrewed Rye IPA, a hoppy and spicy ale that is very flavourful. It is more of a dark amber than a brown, as the picture seems to suggest. And I've already waxed on about my fondness for P.G. Wodehouse's writing, but I've since made it a completely non-optional ritual to sit reading one of these books while meat is wicking up the rather pleasing-to-the-nose air pollution caused by smoldering chunks of hickory.

And here we are getting started:


As you can see I had to lop a section off the end to get the bally thing to fit, but no matter, I placed it over the coals themselves and thus had a quicker-cooking mid-session snack. The slab was placed on the rear half of the grill, with a fire of natural lump charcoal in front, near the air vents. An aluminum drip pan full of water was placed underneath the ribs to keep the environment moist and to ensure that no stray coals made their way underneath the ribs. Final touch was several handfuls of soaked hickory chunks on top of the hot coals. These were a nice size, about 1" cubes, better than the really large chunks or the tiny chips that smoke only for a short period of time before burning out. You can see the smoke starting to go to town.

Here it is somewhere in the middle, after stoking the fires a bit for a heavier smoke. Puffing like a chimney...


And here they are after 3 hours:


Nowhere near actually done, but I know the limits of my "smoker". It can't hold a constant temperature for that long no matter how you twiddle the vents, and so I've resigned that for things that are cooked indirectly for a long period of time (turkey, ribs, my Famed Smoked Meatloaf) I will smoke them for as long as possible, then finish it up in the oven.

I used a variant of what is sometimes called the "Texas Crutch" method to steam and tenderize the meat for an hour, by placing the ribs in a glass casserole dish, pouring in a small layer of liquid, and then covering with foil and cooking at 250 degrees. I was going to use apple juice, but owing to a lack thereof, I used a spiced apple wine that I had made. Does the job, but certainly not necessary to use that, other liquids will work as well. Then, I removed the foil, continued cooking for half an hour to dry out the outer "bark" of the meat, and finally dosed on some barbecue sauce and gave it another 30 minutes in the oven. End result:


Honestly I would rate my attempt as better, but still, not quite there, not the "fall off the bone" goodness. The flavour is spot on, but the texture of the meat is lacking, a bit too stringy and tough compared to, say, a platter of Jack Stack's ribs.

So sometime next year, I'll be looking at an offset box smoker. Going to do it right!

All things considered, a rather enjoyable way to spend Christmas evening. Happy Boxing Day, all.

Bootzilla's Back!

The following was a bit of an archaeological find, something I downloaded back in the 90s, I think. It was a Quicktime movie split into 5 parts, but I finally found it stored away on my hard drive (from my old Win98 computer) and I used a Mac Mini to piece the 5 files into one and then upload it to YouTube. The site that previously hosted it is long gone, but now the Bootsy Collins cartoon can live again in all its funky, kitschy glory!

Pilot Episode of "The Name is Bootsy, Baby"

This definitely fits the category of So Awful It's Good.

You all have yo' selves a very funky Christmas.

Bonus Rant of the Day....

I just want to point out how poor Blogger's coding is. A post with zero comments is labeled "0 Comments". A post with three comments is naturally labeled "3 Comments". It would stand to reason that the geniuses of logical design at Blogger would be capable of putting a simple IF THEN ELSE statement in to ensure that a post with a single comment would be labeled "1 Comment", but no, a post with a solitary comment is nonsensically labeled "1 Comments".

Is it that hard?

// x = number of comments
if (x = 1)
cout << x << " Comment";
else
cout << x << " Comments";

Really basic stuff here. With as long as Blogger has been around it is baffling that such a piddly little design flaw has persevered.

OK, the Radiohead album is growing on me, like fungus on long-forgotten leftovers in the back of the fridge. I listened to it several times over the weekend, and it is one of the better albums I've heard recently from what I only know to call "modern rock".

"All I Need" is a good track, reminiscent of "Climbing Up The Walls" although slightly less creepy. I like the resounding piano bass that drives the track, slowly taking over from the synth bass about halfway through, right before the final crescendo, which builds off of discordant piano comping into rather a nice climax. I particularly like this YouTuber's take on the song, paired with some interesting close-in video of plants and insects and the like:

Radiohead - All I Need

This isn't necessarily a standout track, I just added it because of the neat editing of the YouTube video.

And on a more comic note, some months back I was exposed to some very, very strange music. The acquaintances that were telling me about this music were very serious about it, but I couldn't help finding it absurd to the point of hilarious. Yes, I am talking about Tanz-metal. Particularly Laibach and Rammstein. Watching some of their videos on YouTube, I am baffled by how they are taken as serious music. I'm not saying it's utter crap, I'm just saying that it is so spectacularly craptastic that it is brilliant in its crapliciousness. How can you take trashy Euro-electronica dance beats, combine them with deep, resounding spoken German that sounds like it is pulled from the audiobook version of Heinrich Himmler's autobiography. Throw in a video with uniformed band members strutting to the beat and the silliness is over the top. As mentioned, the silliness is sufficient to make it quite amusing in its own way, and I have to think that that was the original intention of the artists, but what I don't understand is the people that love the music in a very serious, unfunny way. Like Bootsy Collins, half the enjoyment is the silly over-the-top humour of it all.

Speaking of!

Bootsy Collins - Stretchin' Out

Long Live Bootzilla!

Debra and I just returned from a nice trip visiting her parents at their place in rural Morgan County, Missouri. Which of course means, the serenity of the idyllic snow-covered forest was somewhat put on hold as I took my new 10mm out for a range session.

Thoughts:

• The 10mm, despite its numerically impressive muzzle energy, wasn't as bad on the hand as I thought it might be. Recoil and muzzle flip were definitely there, but not unmanageable at all.
• The firearm shoots low...either the front sight needs to be filed, or the rear sight needs to be raised.
• The Tanfoglio Witness is a very ergonomic design, borrowed from the CZ-75. The grip and the overall feel is excellent.
• The recoil springs are underpowered, resulting in the occasional "clunk" as the slide bottoms out on the frame. This must be rectified, possibly with a recoil buffer or replacement springs.
• 10mm is expensive. I resisted the idea of a single-stage reloading press, but I may have to give the idea of reloading a second glance if I intend to shoot this with any frequency. The cheapest factory ammo is about 40 cents a round.

Well, work just got active again, so thus endeth blog post.

I finally got around to downloading Radiohead's new album, "In Rainbows". Radiohead made news with it more in its marketing than in its musical qualities; under a "pay what you want" structure to download, the vast majority opted to pay the princely sum of $0.00, as did I. They think they are smarter than capitalism; I'll grant, they might be richer than capitalism, so to speak, and have precious little need for actual profits from their latest release. A stunt like this only works when your band is filthy rich and can effortlessly restock its coffers by a quick tour at will.

I may try that next time I sell a car in the newspaper; using the Radiohead model, I will say, the car will be sold to the first person that offers me a price, from zero dollars on up.

Anyway, putting aside their infantile attempts to make political statements via really abysmal mathematics, the music is what I would call the best Radiohead since the 90s. Now, don't take that to mean more than it does. With Kid A, I was an enthusiastic fan and I tried to like it more than I probably did. With Amnesiac, I was a sympathetic listener, again trying to like it, but not trying so hard...it didn't meet me half way. With Hail to the Thief, which was painfully comic in its unironic, uninspired, and deadeningly flat title, I washed my hands of them...the band was descending into unmusical mediocrity.

This one seems to be significantly better...as if the band remembered it was a band and not a bunch of guys who stand around while Thom Yorke squeals out shallow poetry over his beatbox. One of the songs, forgive me I don't know which one, struck me as having a surprising amount of chordal complexity, with a wash of discordant piano layered over the main riff, very similar to a couple songs on Chris Squire's "Fish Out of Water". It still is much simpler than a true progressive rock sound, but there is more meat to dig into, as a musician, than the previously mentioned sparse moonscapes of third rate half-spoken, half-squealed verses about the Evil Don Rumsfeld or whatnot. I haven't really listened to the lyrics on this one, and honestly I don't really need to because there is actual MUSIC to pay attention to.

Anyway, I smoked a meatloaf (no, not the Meat Loaf, a meatloaf) on Monday night, as the freezing rain was coming down. I can't remember all the components, but it was basically a pound of beef and a pound of Italian sausage, with a good deal of seasonings and the usual components (eggs, breadcrumbs, salt and pepper). I smoked it for 2 1/2 hours, and then let it finish in the oven til well over the safe internal temperature. I've never been a big fan of meatloaf, but sandwiches made with this and a bit of BBQ sauce are very good. The hickory smoke adds quite a bit to it, I think.

Lastly, a hats-off, kudos, and all around standing ovation for Jeanne Assam. She was the church volunteer security worker in Colorado that stopped Matthew Murray from using more than a fraction of a percent of the ammunition he was hoping to expend killing innocents (he had a rifle, two handguns, and 1000 rds of ammunition). It is tragic that he was able to kill as many as he did, but with him walking into a church of 7000, she prevented the loss of many, many more lives. It was interesting that after he was shot six times by Assam, he chose to off himself. I suppose the humiliation of being thwarted (by a civilian woman, at that) was too much and he wanted to use what little control he had left to take his own life. Also interesting that in his writings he stated that Christians are responsible for most of the wrongs of the world. Sounds peculiarly similar to the position of half of my liberal arts professors at UMKC. Of course, that doesn't mean any further similarity, any more than Bin Laden's copious use of Democrat talking points during the 2004 election means that the Democrats are terrorists.

I'm getting off track; just wanted to send out a cheer for the sheepdog that protected the sheep from the wolves. Many times sheep can't see any difference between wolves and sheepdogs, as they both have sharp teeth, but times like this the difference is immensely clear. And thank God the sheepdog in this case was not muzzled, so to speak. And I seem to have fallen into a huge vat of unexplained metaphors; they are not my own, if you need clarification, read this excellent piece by Dave Grossman:

http://hobbes.ncsa.uiuc.edu/onsheepwolvesandsheepdogs.html

God gave us animals for eating. He gave us plants for burning underneath the animals we eat.

I find it interesting that it is only very recently, probably the last couple centuries or so, that we have had alternative cooking fuel sources such as electricity, charcoal, propane, and natural gas. Most of these (charcoal, a derivative of wood, to a lesser extent) impart a flavour-neutral heat to food. However, every time I cook over a wood fire, I don't know, but somehow the woodsmoke and meat combine to form something greater than the sum of the two parts. Centuries ago this is how most food was cooked in many cultures worldwide: roasted or grilled over wood fires. I'll admit, it is much, much too cold to be sitting outside tending a cooking fire these days, but I still find an excuse to cook outside once a week or so.

And as I've mentioned before, to please the hippies: wood is a renewable resource. Especially mesquite, which grows like a weed in Texas. Hickory I'm less certain about, but it is certainly easier to replenish than, say, natural gas.

Some might want to amend my definition of God's purpose for plants (combustion and smoke production below animal meat) by adding the smoking of certain plant leaves (no, not THAT plant leaf!), but I'd have to say, tobacco smoke, even tobacco from an excellent cigar, holds little appeal to me personally, based on my very minimal experimentation. I use the word "experimentation" and it probably brings to mind the idea of pre-teens huddling behind the shed and hacking their way through a stolen pack of auntie's Camels, but in actuality it was more like a confused adult sitting in his dining room, muttering curses and grievous pronouncements at an overly priced cigar that haughtily refused to stay lit.

No, as for me, the best smoke is the smoke of the classic American hardwoods. Oak, apple, cherry, mesquite, hickory, and pecan. I've used about half of these in my cooking, and those three (apple, mesquite, and hickory) all seem to impart a different flavour. Hickory was the most conventional, and some would say ideal for BBQ smoking. Mesquite has a sharper flavour and burns hot, great for searing steaks and general direct cooking (on Monday I cooked "lamburgers" over mesquite wood, which was very good). Apple wood was interesting; the smoke was thick and instead of the expected "fruity" smoke flavour I've read about it seemed to me to be slightly more "buttery" than the other woods.

You might ask what prompted this blog entry ("not get your eggs and b. this morning, eh, 'Feld?"), and while I did enjoy a rather fun grilling session last evening, the main catalyst was when I walked into work this morning, our corporate neighbors (some sort of manufacturing or machine shop) had as usual a plume of smoke rising from their chimney. Apparently they use lumber scraps such as old wooden pallets to fire their industrial oven. Even as low quality as that lumber may be, the smell was great. I wanted to hang a slab of spare ribs in their chimney and come back at lunch time.

And I'll leave you with this. Another comic song from the Jeeves and Wooster series, it is stuck in my head, and so now I'm attempting to stick it in yours. Avoid the comments section, unless you desire to be thoroughly nauseated by descriptions of Mr. Laurie as a "cutie" and other even more ghastly epithets:

Nagasaki, as performed by B.W.W.

I find myself in somewhat unusually buoyant spirits this frigid Monday morning. If nothing else, the fact that I've been walking down the halls doing the "stealth whistle" (a nigh inaudible whistling, under one's breath) to "47 Ginger Headed Sailors" ought to be an indication:

47 Ginger Headed Sailors

It's all the rage at the Drones at the moment.

After a brutal, disheartening failure to reproduce a true, slow smoked Kansas City BBQ slab of pork ribs last week, I've rallied the morale and am making plans to attack the challenge next year again, this time with a proper offset box smoker. There is only so much one can do with a small cheap charcoal grill designed for hot dogs and hamburgers. I'm sure the experts could have done better even with that, but hey, Rembrandt could have probably used a child's watercolor set to paint a masterpiece. My skill is not anywhere near that level, and I'll need to get the right tool for the job next year.

While I initially rooted a bit for Army given their underdog status on Saturday's game, I eventually returned to my senses, and realized that my heart was still in Annapolis, and so I cheered Navy on to win for the sixth straight time. That is my favourite football game of the year; each member of both teams is a scholar and an athlete, and the contest is unstained with the big business and professional overtones of college football in general. It is true that either team would probably get slaughtered by one of the big state college teams, but it is nice watching the Army Navy game because more than the other college football contests, this is truly just a game. It's not a job, it's not an internship, it isn't some sort of springboard into a pro career, and so there is a nice civility and sporting nature to it. These players will go on to be officers, engineers, pilots, astronauts, scientists, and government leaders. That in itself is quite impressive, and to these players (since in all likelihood they will never go "pro", having to serve 6 or so years in the service after graduation) the Army Navy game represents the climax of their years playing football, every bit as important to them as a Superbowl to a pro player. I'm not a football nut by any stretch, but I do like these games, they have a classic spirit to them, like some sort of older style of college sports, where it was more a game and less a business.

My lovely wife Debra was kind enough to pass on to me an interesting article she found:

Todd Friel on Hugging Jesus

Kind of one of those articles I don't want to resoundingly agree with publicly, because of the potential backlash of Jesus Boyfriends and Girlfriends out there that dig those kind of songs, but definitely worth a read. While I've been interminably frustrated with the über-lame "Jesus is my boyfriend" style of music, I'd never before considered that one of the reasons these songs are so lame is a fault of the English language. Because we have one predominant word for love, which in Greek and other languages can be translated in different ways, we end up lumping shallow, feel-good emotional love, romantic eros love, and agape charity-love all into one devil of a four letter word. It is an interesting point he makes.

It is a bit ironic when you consider what is viewed as the "secularization of Christian music". Commonly this refers to adopting the sounds, styles, instruments, and techniques of secular popular music, with guitars, electric instruments, drums, "avant garde" compositions and the like, but to me the far more relevant side is the secularization of lyrics. While still under the pretense of being "Christian", we've basically taken the lyrics of classic love songs and interspersed them with "Jesus" and "King" and wallah, Christian music.

"Wallah" is one of the better words in this world. I'm not sure if I found the correct source for its etymology, but here is a possibility:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/By_Allah

I was listening to Rubber Soul by the Fabbissimo Quattro today and I heard the following line delivered by Lennon on the song "The Word"..."now that I know what I feel must be right, I'm here to show everybody the Light!" All too often that is what we run into, in political ideology, religious discussions, debates on terminal ballistics of handgun ammunition (ha!), whatever. Somebody feels something they assume to be right, and then they have to take that Gospel to everyone else. If only we could depend a little less on feeling, and more on more substantive measures, perhaps our differences wouldn't be debated with such rancor. Sing it, John...

"It's SO fine, it's SUNshine, it's the WORD! LOVE!"

So I'm only a few pages into a new book on the Second Boer War, this one a contemporary (1902) account by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle entitled "The Great Boer War". It is a much more colourfully written book than the "The Boer War" by Thomas Pakenham, as could be expected when the author was known for inventing Sherlock Holmes among other things, but it is rumoured to be somewhat factually inaccurate in places. No matter...as I was saying, I'm only a few pages into it and I feel I've gotten my money's worth by this insightful passage:

An American would realise the point at issue if he could conceive that after the founding of the United States the Dutch inhabitants of the State of New York had trekked to the westward and established fresh communities under a new flag. Then, when the American population overtook these western States, they would be face to face with the problem which this country has had to solve. If they found these new States fiercely anti-American and extremely unprogressive, they would experience that aggravation of their difficulties with which our statesmen have had to deal.

This is admittedly obscure and uninteresting to the general reader (who rarely tends to share my strange fascination with 19th Century South African history), but for me it was an enormous revelation. I had somewhat bought into the forgone conclusion that the British Empire was purely interested in expanding its grip and spreading its empire across continents when it found itself at war with the Boers in 1899. I can't help this, I'm sure it has to do with the way we are educated today; it was a popular refrain to bash "imperialism" with the Brits as Exhibit A (until we overtake them!). But Conan Doyle's illustration above seemed to make the British motivation (other than Milner's personal ambitions) for war much clearer and more reasonable.

Another rather quotable bit is his eloquent praise for the hardy nobility of the Boer blood, with which he opens the first chapter:

Take a community of Dutchmen of the type of those who defended themselves for fifty years against all the power of Spain at a time when Spain was the greatest power in the world. Intermix with them a strain of those inflexible French Huguenots who gave up home and fortune and left their country for ever at the time of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. The product must obviously be one of the most rugged, virile, unconquerable races ever seen upon earth. Take this formidable people and train them for seven generations in constant warfare against savage men and ferocious beasts, in circumstances under which no weakling could survive, place them so that they acquire exceptional skill with weapons and in horsemanship, give them a country which is eminently suited to the tactics of the huntsman, the marksman, and the rider. Then, finally, put a finer temper upon their military qualities by a dour fatalistic Old Testament religion and an ardent and consuming patriotism. Combine all these qualities and all these impulses in one individual, and you have the modern Boer-the most formidable antagonist who ever crossed the path of Imperial Britain. Our military history has largely consisted in our conflicts with France, but Napoleon and all his veterans have never treated us so roughly as these hard-bitten farmers with their ancient theology and their inconveniently modern rifles.

"Inconveniently modern rifles" made me chuckle a bit...the British, who enjoyed the advantage of outclassing their rivals in firearms technology in most colonial wars of the era, found themselves outclassed by that immensely impressive design, the Mauser magazine rifle. The British by this time were using a relatively advanced bolt design in the Lee-Metford, but they were still using a blackpowder cartridge. From the numbers I've seen, the Mausers (using high-tech smokeless powder) had approximately 800 fps higher muzzle velocity than the Lee-Metfords, which gave them better range and accuracy, not to mention kept them hidden by obscuring the white puffs of smoke after firing from hidden positions. The British fielded some Lee-Enfields at that time, which used a new rifling and fired a smokeless cartridge, the venerable .303 British.

Although I will say I didn't realize that I did not have to pay for this book. I found out later it is public domain, and available all across the web. If you're interested, get started here:

The Great Boer War

Another book worthy of mention is "The Washing of the Spears" by Donald Morris. History of the Zulu kingdom from Shaka to Cetswayo (downfall under the latter). Very entertaining and enlightening.

Coffee Root Beer

Coffee root beer is a creation of my younger days, working long hours (or what seemed to me at the time to be long hours) at a barbeque restaurant as a dishwasher. Our benefits package included run of the soda fountain (barring unreasonable abuse). This is the time when black coffee, in copious quantity, became a staple beverage of mine, but I also concocted a somewhat unique beverage that was a little more thirst quenching than a slug of day-old cold coffee, but still with a bit of extra caffeine kick for those long evenings .

There is nothing complex to the making of coffee root beer; it is as simple as it sounds, with a variable ratio depending on taste. I like a ratio of three parts root beer, 1 part good black coffee. One is best off chilling the coffee before adding it to the root beer, and never (as I did) try to funnel hot coffee into a 2-liter almost full of root beer. This will release all the carbonation into foam, and generally make a mess.

The resulting coffee root beer has the bitterness and flavour of the coffee balanced by the nutty sweetness of the root beer. Coca-Cola's "Blak" product was an annoying preemption of my idea, marketed towards the energy drink crowd and ridiculously overpriced. But simple, humble coffee root beer is an excellent drink.

Time Now for the Snotty Art Film Hour's Foreign Cinema Roundtable Snootfest!

OK, I'm going to play the pretentious film critic here for a while, so bear with me. I've recently taken a liking to Japanese movies (at least, the ones I have seen, which are all Akira Kurosawa films) and I was a bit bored, so I thought I'd run through with some brief comments on each one. So crack out the nigori nihonshu, grill up some teriyaki and udon, and open your Netflix queue!

Stray Dog - 1949 - A very young Toshiro Mifune stars in this depiction of a rookie cop that loses his firearm to a pickpocket. For those that carry or own guns, this is a particularly relevant story because it details the horrifying emotions that sweep the main character as he realizes the evils that his gun has done in the hands of a criminal. The storyline seems pretty simple or dull (stolen gun, big deal) but it is surprising how much suspense Kurosawa packs into this. Takashi Shimura also stars as the wise mentor cop, in a very likable role.

Rashomon - 1950 - This is the one beloved of wine guzzling art-film lovers because of its alleged refutation of absolute truth. It tells the story of a crime out in the woods, the rape of a woman and murder of her husband. The story is told four times, first by the suspect, secondly by the woman, thirdly by the summoned spirit of the husband, and lastly by a woodcutter who was in the area and saw what went on. The differences in the stories they tell are supposed to make a brilliant point about how all truth is relative, but it seems to me that unlike the first three accounts, the fourth is essentially impartial and has no motive to tell anything but truth in the matter. The popular interpretation is that all four accounts are wrong and all four accounts are yet also right, but I take the traditional interpretation of the first three accounts were wrong and the last account was probably right. Call me a philistine if you must. But still, a good movie. Mifune is the wild-eyed suspect and Shimura is the woodcutter.

Seven Samurai - 1954 - The first Kurosawa film I saw, this is probably one of the best known. It tells the story of a group of samurai that band together to defend a village of destitute peasants from roving bandits. Shimura has the lead role in this one as the head of the samurai, and Mifune had a memorable role as the childish, immature, and overcompensating Kikuchiyo [sic?], who eventually proves his worth and earns a place with the others.

Throne of Blood - 1957 - This is a dark, dark film, but I like it. Mifune shifts dramatically here, into a brooding, older character beset by ambition, malice, and greed. It is an adaptation of Macbeth, and a very good one at that! The "Lady Macbeth" character is particularly loathsome in her needling words of manipulation to Mifune's Macbeth. Not a particularly happy film, but a good one!

Yojimbo - 1961 - One of my favorites, this establishes Toshiro Mifune as the Eastern Eastwood. Or rather, that's a bit backwards...Eastwood became the Western version of Mifune after this movie. It is a story of a wandering ronin samurai that enters a town split by two warring factions, and he ends up playing both against each other. Sergio Leone remade this movie with the young Clint Eastwood as "A Fistful of Dollars", a great film in its own right, but a near carbon copy of this film.

Sanjuro - 1962 - Sanjuro is a continuation of the Yojimbo character, and while it was a good movie, it didn't strike me as a particularly memorable one, in the company of these other movies. Mifune's character throws his lot in to help a group of generally witless and inexperienced samurai that are embroiled in a political fight involving their masters.

High and Low - 1963 - Another one of my favorites, this one ventures out of feudal Japan and into the contemporary. Mifune (again!) does really well in this one as an ambitious executive that is blackmailed by the kidnapping of his chauffeur's only son. I won't disclose any more of the plot, as this one is particularly suspenseful. It is surprising and frustrating to me, when I consider how great a movie like this is, and how relatively thrilling it can be made to be, without the almost requisite staples of modern crime drama (shocking violence and sex). The final scene is particularly effective (I did promise not to give away the plot details). All in all, a very recommendable movie!

With apologies to Israel Houghton:

I am a friend of the zoo!
I am a friend of the zoo!
I am a friend of the zoo!
They call me friend!

If you know that song, and I just got my edited version implanted into your brain (where it will repeatedly resound for the next 12-16 hours), I am sorry. If you don't know to which song I am referring, do yourself a favour, let it go, don't go looking it up.

But anyway, we are now friends of the zoo, which means we've spent the last two weekends at the Kansas City Zoo. It's our form of exercise; we get a lot of walking in, and now instead of it costing $20 a visit for both of us, it is $50 per year (actually the term is about a year and a half). It beats a health club subscription, in my opinion. Heck of a lot more entertaining. The animals seem more active in cooler weather; the African Wild Dogs were having a domestic squabble last week. They look kind of strange, and you'd think they'd almost make a good breed to own until they start fighting; they don't so much bark or howl, as scream. Although, that might make a great home watchdog. Instead of the all-too-familiar bark, intruders would be warned by a high pitch banshee screech, like the Devil himself coming for your soul. Woowee! Of course, as my wife duly pointed out, they would eat our cat. I suppose that is a deal breaker.

The meerkats are pathetic little beggars. I think someone has been feeding them.

All in all we've got a pretty decent zoo in Kansas City, and I find that I enjoy simple things, like a zoo, more than I might have several years earlier. Doesn't hurt that we get exercise in at the same time.

And lastly, received my Tanfoglio Witness 10mm Compact this weekend. Rather elegant lines reminiscent of the CZ-75 family, excellent craftsmanship, great fit and finish. And it fits the hand just right; 10mm may be heavy on the recoil but this feels like it has enough ergonomics to help you deal with it. Nice trigger, not too touchy or too heavy, balanced just right. I'm going to get some ammo straight away and get this thing out to the range.

Zwei dinge...

First, after noting a particular passage of Wodehouse this evening, while supervising the slow smoking of a beef brisket, I thought about the unique virtues of the "one" pronoun. One doesn't normally consider this pronoun with any special thought, but tonight I understood it a bit better. "One" is a pronoun of discretion. It can be used in the first person sense to impart an element of privacy: "one doesn't wish to complain, but the noise from downstairs is quite disturbing." It can also be used in second person to impart a sense of cordial distance in otherwise confrontational situations: "please refrain from using ethnic slurs, Mr. Connery; one should not use the term 'dego' on live television." Of course, it can also be used in third person, and in plural senses with equal utility.

Secondly, thanks to the "Instant Watch" feature of Netflix, I watched a comically dated film last night. I watched for the first time (and the last time, until last night) the film "So I Married an Axe Murderer" from 1993. I found the introduction to the film the most comical, in the way it focused on the then-hip coffeehouse, a scene which has gone drastically out of style since the mid 90s. I had forgotten how cool coffeehouses once were. And Mike Myers, while generally funny, seemed to be an amalgam of Austin Powers, Doctor Evil, and Fat Bastard. It is hard watching him prior to his prudent dissection of these different comic personalities.

And as an extra, I have a 10mm Witness on the way, after winning a gunbroker.com auction. Needless to say, I am excited.

EDIT:

We watched the final of Leone's "No Name" trilogy again last night, and I can't expunge Morricone's soundtrack from my head, try as I might with live tracks of the Who. So for your enjoyment, skip ahead to the climax and enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awskKWzjlhk

Oh. Right. We got home all right. Forgot that last bit of posting.