Sentential Links #28

Hoo-ray! More sentential goodness. Bask in it, I tell you! BASK!

:: Niagara Falls’ casino was located in the old, leaky Convention Center. It’s the place to go to see septuagenarians smoke cigarettes in a public indoor setting. If you miss walking out of a place stinking like a carton of Lucky’s, this is your go-to place. If you can’t get enough of tan Buicks making right turns at 2 mph, get thyself to the Falls. (I’ve tried to hold my nose and accept the idea of casinos, but I just can’t do it. I hate the idea. Hate it. I hate the idea of seizing private property to turn it over to an Indian Nation to run it, forever taking it off the tax rolls. I hate the fact that not only does the state get a pittance from the casino profits, the average Indians themselves don’t much benefit. I hate the packaging of the casinos as a tourist attraction, when there’s gambling just about everywhere nowadays. I hate that the state is gung-ho about shit like this but doesn’t seem to notice that our state’s business climate is about as inviting as a speakeasy to which one doesn’t know the password. I hate this casino crap.)

:: We are eager to welcome such a musician and person to our faculty. (Snarfle!)

:: I think that if I had a time machine, I wouldn’t do anything as trivial as using it to take out Hitler before he caused all that trouble. I’d go all the way and pick up Abraham.

:: At the end of 1958, he’s still not drawn quite like the iconic Snoopy of today, but he’s getting closer. (I gotta read these!)

:: Tonight was one of the best nights out I have had in a long, long time. (Now I have two big-time U2 fans on my blogroll.)

:: There is a Buffalo story behind the “Biggest Rock Band In The World” and it was referenced a few times last night from the stage by Bono, the following is what I know: (Yeah, click to read the rest. It’s fascinating. Once again, the world owes Buffalo a debt of gratitude and doesn’t know it. Buffalo’s the Fox Mulder of cities, I swear….)

:: Over the past two days I made 6 batches of peanut brittle from five different recipes. (And she gives all five recipes, with results — one recipe resulted in some well-fed crows, and probably not in the way that George R.R. Martin had in mind. [Geek humor there.] Go look!)

:: One thing you have to give Chris Wallace. He is a supremely objective journalist who never lets any of his political views or ideological leanings be known. (I just found this blog last week, and I think it’s brilliant. I particularly recommend this post, as well as this one, for those who scoff at comparisons between Iraq and Vietnam. Maybe the answer to the question of why the MSM won’t report how wonderful things are over there is because, well, maybe they aren’t. Just a thought.)

:: I’ve heard a version of “Frosty the Snowman” that sounds as if it was recorded in the 1990s as a collaborative project between Portishead and Underworld, cold chilly techno complete with jaded female vocals. What did we do to deserve this? (OK, that’s the entire post. But it’s a good question: what did we do to deserve that?)

:: There are many classic authors that I am not yet a good enough reader to appreciate, but humility tells me that the flaw is in my understanding, not in the author’s work. Not that any author’s work achieves god-like perfection, but if millions have learned something from a given piece of literature and I receive nothing, perhaps I need to work a little harder. (I bookmarked this a while back and forgot about it. So here it is.)

:: This is what we adults do, isn’t it? Defer our dreams. Dismiss our dreams. Deny our dreams. Dash our dreams. (Not anymore, dammit. Let that be my son’s legacy.)

Enough for now. Enjoy.

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