delicions are the molecules responsible for making food tasty.

another from the poll! -- i love to prepare anything i've harvested or wildcrafted. i'm probably proudest of my pasta with sulfur shelf and a poached duck egg :)

in other news, bless yagagriswold for making me think about going to a salon to take care of my hair, which has been neglected while my arms have been bad. i just feel SO MUCH BETTER now!

http://www.snopes.com/luck/wills/fourhour.asp

A wealthy woman left her entire estate to a man she had met only once.

I could've just as easily titled this entry "9½" if Fellini had found that extra digit- because yesterday ended two straight days that lasted that many hours for me, driveway to driveway.  Each began with a 9:30 court appearance in Rochester, was followed by multiple and backed-up client appointments, and ended with long walks to out-of-the-way parking spots and rolling in our door just in time to eat, watch a film (this one two nights ago, Skyfall last night), and fall down go boom.

Both days, with the foot still hurting pretty badly. By late last night, I'd eroded enough of the object so it was more Just There than Really Owie- and I made it through over an hour of cardio today with no ill effect from it, so I think this, too, shall pass.

That was my only venture from the grounds all day- well, gym after church, office, bank and return of Redbox. I cranked out a butt-ton of paperwork throughout the morning and almost wiped out the cash-stash in the postage meter by the time I finished posting it all.

Long weekend awaits. More at-home stuffs in the morning, a hopefully quick court gig here in the afternoon, and then three days off.  The third will be a travel day, as long as the downstate weather holds up- a group of Met bloggers got tickets to the Monday night Subway Series game at Citi Field, and Matt Harvey is due to pitch- he's plainly the best player (and possibly the only hope) on this team, and it will be a great chance to see him When He Was New.

----

One chance we won't be getting much more will be to see movies at the only still-surviving active movie house from Buffalo's historic past:



Originally known as Shea's North Park, after the legendary local chain of movie palaces (its flagship is still open, but acts as a Broadway musical bus-and-truck venue with occasional concerts), it has been a North Buffalo fixture since my law school days. When Rear Window and a handful of other "lost Hitchcocks" were finally re-released in the early 1980s, the North Park got the screenings, and I saw all five of the there. For years, it's been run by a small regional chain, but it never acquired the art-house cachet that the Little did in Rochester; they split their indy films to a downtown multiplex, a just-over-the-city-border 50s venue, and even a dull ex-General Cinema three-screener in a local mall.  The chain is simply ending their lease, and the building's owner, a so-far-not-commenting local lawyer, might do the right thing and retain its Hertel Heritage.

Or it could be knocked down for a Rite Aid. Because, you know, you can never have enough of those around here.

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I was listening to this song (OK, it must be pretty old hat for most of you,but I was listening to it for the first time:



so I decided to look up the

MANTIS SHRIMP

and wow, it's a fearsome creature...and all the factoids mentioned in the song are mentioned in the Wiki, too!



I just want to know HOW it was determined that cavitation bubbles can contain temperatures up to a 1000 deg Kelvin...who does that kind of research, and what implements are used to do it? Anyone who has any clue...let me know...

It was the Museum of Bad Art's idea to have bits of its collection at the Wildlife Center, if you're wondering. I know I was.




A mix of awesome, misguided, and terrifying.

Annie's Downstairs Secret: Impressed by how well they worked on her pets' and her own teeth, Annie used Crest Whitestrips to brighten her toenails.
One of us thought this was something. And by one of us, I mean I don't remember if Devin, Jessica, or the lady who designs clothes and has a pet guinea pig had that thought, nor do I remember what they thought she looked like.



Drilling For Eggs: Green alligator flames dominate the foreground and a bright pink sky provides the backdrop for this disquieting depiction of a color-altered future in which eggs, a renewable resource, have replaced traditional hydrocarbon fuels. The artist is saying, in no uncertain terms, that unless we learn to conserve our priceless resources, the yolk will be on us.







Ferret in a Brothel: The anonymous painter of this work has inexplicably chosen to depict a ferret as a "lady of the evening" in a Victorian room featuring flowered wallpaper and luxurious velvet curtains. She wears only a long pearl necklace and gazes provocatively at the viewer as she dances unashamedly to the music playing on a vintage Victrola record player. The reversed eigth notes may hint at a secret meaning in the music being played backwards, e.g., "Paul is dead", or, more likely, a reflection of the artist's unfamiliarity with proper musical notation.


Chicken in the Kitchen: Returning home from a hard day at work, Super-Chicken finds dinner on the table. He is not amused.


Bruno: It is interesting to ponder the fate of the owner of the rucksack next to a Bengal tiger standing in shallow water. Had the noble beast eaten an average size man or woman, his belly would probably hang into, or at least skim, the puddle. It is probably safe to conclude that either the owner was a small child, or has abandoned the pack and is the object of Bruno's hungry, vaguely man-faced gaze.


Shot down!… Yeti Persists: Sublimating his rage after being spurned by a Russian woman, the artist represented himself as the legendary abominable snowman in a fearsome posed. Upon completing the self-portrait, he took it to an open field and shot it with a shotgun. The text translated from Russian reads, "You and me… and coffee?" This painting is an acknowledgement of the potentially painful consequence of rejection and shows the artist's resolve to continue reaching out to others. In his discussion of the piece, he alludes to "the frustration of being misunderstood, the questioning of identity, and the desperate need to be loved that could drive a yeti out of the woods and into cozy cafés."

Note, the photograph came out terrible. To sate you, here is a picture of Nina Eating Chips

Prosthetic Claw: Inspired by the film Jurassic Park, many have speculated about the possibility of using traces of fossilized dinosaur DNA to produce a living Tyrannosaurus rex. Advances in cell-engineering techniques have led others to speculate about the possibility of using stem cells to grow human tissue. One scientist, Dr. Jose Cibelli, went so far as to secretly clone his own DNA inside a cow egg.

Prosthetic Claw portrays the unexpected results in this ethical boundary-stretching field of interspecies cloning. The central figure's immaculate white shoe contrasts with the grotesquely poor grooming of the hand, which is depicted in a universally understood gesture. The artist seems to be saying that these experiments will result in a giant "goose egg". The heavy-handed image is marred by a clumsily executed background of straight-from-the-tube oil paint colors that have become all too familiar to the MOBA curatorial staff.


Birdbrain: Unlike the sacrificial canaries in a coal mine, the seagulls in this metaphorical painting are free to leave when they sense conditions are deteriorating.


Woman Riding Crustacean: Possibly inspired by Debra Winger riding a mechanical bull in Urban Cowboy (1980), this image of what appears to be a blow-up doll mounted atop a giant lobster looks unfinished. It may be a study for a larger, hopefully more erotically realized, work.


My Darling's Chestnut Mare: This is an astonishing depiction of a Snow White look-alike with truly tiny hands, feeding cherries to a most cheerful and somewhat diminutive nag. This piece was framed as you now see it by the artist, and hung for more than twenty years in the home: a testament to the adhesive quality of scotch tape.


Safe at Home: The old-town team runner successfully avoids the catcher's tag at the plate, only to be swallowed by a mysterious fan. The viewer is left to wonder why the Red Sox player decided to return home from first base.

Burning Question: Who the fuck thought bacon cookies were a good idea?

http://page2rss.com/af8685f2732a2e9fb1d4c5e85f6d2348/6520567_6522271/does-marijuana-cause-the-munchies-by-affecting-blood-sugar-levels

http://page2rss.com/p/af8685f2732a2e9fb1d4c5e85f6d2348_6520567_6522271

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"The problem", said my friend, "is that you didn't know Real religion."  The capital letter was there in her voice.  

She may have been right. What is "Real" religion, anyway? How can anything focused upon invisible beings, inaudible voices, immaterial spirits ever be prepended by the word "Real"?

For me, "real" religion was always quiet, orderly, Apollonian.  It was girded about by liturgy: the Daily Office (or just Morning and Evening Prayer) and the Eucharist.  If it had a sound, it was plainsong and Anglican chant and good old hymns sung in four part harmony to the accompaniment of a pipe organ. If it had a color, it was the ruby and violet of stained glass and the grey of stone.  If it had a smell it was dust and old frankincense. If it had a taste it was a crumb of wheaten loaf and a drop of sour wine. Its words were those of Elizabethan England, lovely old archaic phrases like "For he hath holpen his servant" and "But thou, O Lord, have mercy on us, miserable offenders.  Spare thou them which confess their fault…"  It was found in places like the monastery chapel to which I fled when I felt lost and confused, the prie-dieu before the oversized crucifix, the rood cross formed of the charred timbers of the previous church, lost to fire and resurrected. It was where I thought I could hear the still, small voice...

In other words, it was all remarkably like my own personal tastes and predilections. 

Created, as it were, in my own image and likeness. 

You can't get more Real than that.