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An odd meme-thing

I don’t remember where I got this one, because I wrote it and saved it a long time ago for future posting…and then forgot completely about it. The rule is simple: it’s twenty things you’d like to say to someone, but don’t because it would either be socially awkward, unwise, or just plain impossible. But you do this without naming names! Cool, huh?

So, here are things I’d like to say. To…someone.

1. With your pathological need for being right combined with your obsessive taste for arguing the smallest point in any discussion in order to salvage some ground on which to claim victory, it’s a wonder you’re not a lawyer.

2. Look, instead of cutting entire sections out of the piece because they’re hard, why don’t we roll up our sleeves and rehearse them so we can do them?!

3. You can show me all the pictures of your spouse and kids all you want, but I refuse to believe that you have ever released one ounce of your pent-up sexual energy.

4. Don’t you think that the fact that the house you were working on was torn down on order by the city after being condemned reflects poorly on your work as a contractor?

5. Yes, I realize that you have a photographic memory for where all conversations ended, but I don’t, so please stop trying to pick up on “where we left off” in discussing something six months ago without giving me any kind of context, OK?

6. That flower I gave you yesterday? I gave that to you because you’re ridiculously cute and I want to go out with you. Why didn’t I say that yesterday? Because I’m a moron.

7. I see. And just telling me that at the time would have been so much harder than all the angst since then, right?

8. Oh, you’re holding me accountable on the basis of ____. Well, that’s all very nice. And I’m sure you’ll be having similar conversations with everyone else here who does the exact same thing. Of course, if you do that, you won’t have anybody left to turn out the lights at the end of the day, so….

9. Hey genius: If you knew the movie was going to suck as much as you’re saying that you knew it was going to suck, then why the hell are you here at midnight seeing the damn thing? Who willingly stays up this late to have an experience they know is going to be unpleasant?

10. You’re really telling me that, for the purposes of pricing, your daughter is under the age of twelve. When she’s six foot two, is driving your car under your supervision, and is wearing a D-cup.

11. Hey, is there some particular reason that my asking you out basically turned me from a person you’d say “hello” to and chat with to a person you wouldn’t douse with a bucket of water if flames were rushing across my body? Because seriously, that’s some harsh etiquette, there.

12. I can’t imagine why she likes you. You’re short and stupid.

13. I can’t imagine why you like me. I talk too much and accomplish too little.

14. Oh, you’re a Republican. Well, this means that we can never have coffee together. Oh wait, it doesn’t mean that at all.

15. I’m not hitting on your girlfriend just by asking if I can refill her empty coffee cup, dumbass. I’m a manager here, and one of the things I do to interact with my customers is wander about offering people refills. So slapping your hand over her cup and giving me the skunk-eye just makes you look like a dick.

16. Welcome home, and I’m grateful for your service over there.

17. Hi, you called yesterday and left me a message about coming in for an interview. I’d love to! When’s a good time?

18. Oh my God, you’re actually serious. You’re making us watch a videotape of the junior high girls’ basketball team you coach, when the Steelers are on.

19. Were it not for the fact that you know who you know, you wouldn’t amount to anything at all in this company.

20. So what? Is there some minimum amount of time you can be gone before I’m allowed to wish you were here?

So…was I talking to you? (Almost certainly not, unless some people suddenly read this blog for the first time…and in some cases, travel through time to do so….)

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Now boarding Air Chan flight number 2010….

The Buffalo Bills have finally made their choice for their new head coach. After an exhaustive search that saw the Bills’ officials interview a staggering three candidates for the job, and reject an even larger number of others for reasons only known to Ralph Wilson, the nonagenarian owner of the franchise whose ability to hold a grudge is becoming sufficient to earn him an Honorary Status as an Irishman, the team has at long last settled on Chan Gailey.

Here’s Coach Gailey, on the Georgia Tech sideline:

And here’s another Chan. This is not the guy the Bills hired.

Well, this pic I found (here) doesn’t inspire confidence:

Although the linked article does opine that Gailey is more suited to the NFL than the college game. Interesting….

What do I think about Gailey? Well…it feels like a potentially interesting hire that is unfortunately overshadowed by the white-bread way the Bills went about conducting their job search, which deflates a lot of the potential interest in the guy. So it ends up feeling “Meh”. This is not an exciting hire. Maybe it’s a good one. We’ll see.

One common complaint I’ve heard is that Gailey has never had great success in his previous head coaching jobs, and that since he’s an offensive coach by trade, his hiring is basically the offensive version of Dick Jauron. I think that’s overstating things. Gailey may not have any championships to his name, and his head coaching resume in the NFL is very brief (two years with the Cowboys), but he’s certainly been generally more successful than Dick Jauron ever was. Gailey’s been recommended for jobs by Bill Cowher; Jerry Jones (of all people!) has expressed regret for firing him after just two years; stuff like that.

So ultimately, my reaction to the hiring of Chan Gailey is that it at least has potential to not be disastrous. The real indicator will be the quality of players the new coach and GM bring in next year. Although last year’s draft was generally good (Aaron Maybin notwithstanding, but even he might have benefited from a less-shitty coaching staff that might have thought to try him out at linebacker, given his undersized-for-a-DE status), the two people responsible for most of the personnel moves during the last decade of futility, Tom Modrak and John Guy, are still here. The people who drafted John McCargo and signed Bennie Anderson are still here. That, by far, gives me the most pause.

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Something for Thursday

Who doesn’t like a good rock ballad? People who are dumb, that’s who. But people who are smart and cool like a good rock ballad. That’s how it works.

Here’s ZZTop, with “Rough Boy”.

“Ain’t got no rap, ain’t got no line, but if you’ll give me just a minute I’ll be feelin’ fine….”

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A Perfect Storm of Stupid

It’s always weird when one comes into contact with the way a rabid right-winger views the world; they just don’t see things the way the rest of the world sees them. At all. It’s often breathtaking and creates cognitive dissonance as on the one hand, one tries to formulate arguments against their clearly ludicrous positions, but on the other, one realizes that none of it will work in the slightest.

Case in point: Ben Shapiro’s list of the ten most overrated directors in history. Ben Shapiro is one of those people who thinks that every single thing under the sun needs to be examined for its conservativeness (or lack thereof), often with laughable results. Like this article. Here are some of his more laughable assertions (and most of them are terribly laughable):

On Ridley Scott:

Ridley Scott has, for some odd reason, received accolades that far outpace his actual accomplishments. He’s made one entertaining film, Gladiator, and a host of second rate films masquerading as masterpieces. Blade Runner is a bizarre and massively overpraised mess. Thelma and Louise is liberal tripe, although it does provide the best imagistic summary of modern feminism: two irritating “independent” women driving themselves off a cliff…Then there’s Kingdom of Heaven, which is an homage to the “religion of peace” and a slap at Christianity through and through. Alien is slow. GI Jane is hysterically terrible. Plus, it’s got Orlando Bloom, who has about as much charisma and credibility as Al Gore.

Nice editing there; Orlando Bloom isn’t in GI Jane but Kingdom of Heaven, which Ben disses two films previously on grounds that make clear, if you’ve actually seen KoH, that the only way Ben would approve would be if it depicted Muslims as murderous without exception and Christians as holy without exception. And thank God we have the Al Gore reference! Hoo-boy!!

On Michael Mann:

All style, no substance.

That’s always a pretty useless complaint, but it certainly indicates something about Ben that he couldn’t find any substance in Heat.

On David Lean

Everything Lean made is too long by at least half an hour. I know it’s mortal sin to suggest that Laurence of Arabia, Dr. Zhivago, The Bridge on the River Kwai, and Ryan’s Daughter are anything less than masterpieces, but … they’re all less than masterpieces.

It’s not a mortal sin. It’s just stupid. Kind of like saying Hamlet is “less than a masterpiece”.

On Quentin Tarantino:

I recently watched Inglourious Basterds and marveled at Tarantino’s skill. But he is a gifted high school child given a camera for his birthday, and entranced with his knowledge of cinema. Which means, in simple terms, he doesn’t know how to tell a story.

Given Ben’s all-too-obvious inability to read or watch a story, it certainly seems odd that he would quibble with Tarantino’s ability to tell one. But Pulp Fiction is pure story, brilliantly told. Ben’s babblings about plot make clear what’s happened: he’s failed to understand the movies he’s watching.

On Martin Scorsese:

Goodfellas is similarly disgusting – you feel the need to take a shower after watching. Why anyone would want to spend several hours of his/her life with coke-snorting Ray Liotta and Co. is beyond me. The Last Temptation of Christ is baffling.

Umm…no, it’s really not baffling at all. Unless you’re stupid, that is. As for Ben’s take on Goodfellas, well, I suspect there aren’t enough trees in the world to yield sufficient paper to contain a list of items that make Ben want to take a shower afterwards.

But his Number One choice for Overrated Directors is an utter hoot:

On…

…wait for it…

…oh my…

ALFRED HITCHCOCK!!!

He never made a great film. He was the Stephen King of the silver screen: he made films with great premises, but he never knew where to go from there…North by Northwest relies on the tried-and-true random helpful coincidence to save our hero, time and again. It brings to mind one of Twain’s rules of writing, directed toward Fenimore Cooper: “the personages of a tale shall confine themselves to possibilities and let miracles alone; or, if they venture a miracle, the author must so plausibly set it forth as to make it look possible and reasonable.” Not so much for Hitchcock…Rear Window makes one reach for the fast-forward button.

So many assertions! Stephen King never knows where to go with his stories! North by Northwest relies too much on coincidence for an established fan of 24 like Ben Shapiro to follow! Rear Window taxes his ability to pay attention! Although, I suspect that last isn’t out of boredom; rather, I suspect that looking upon Grace Kelly gives Ben the urge to take one of those showers of his.

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On impolite thoughts and the posting thereof

Several readers have expressed dismay at the marked shift in tone that this post represents from the kind of thing I usually post here. I understand that concern, but in this case, I’d hope those offended would take into account the fact that it clearly takes a lot from the ilk of Mr. Limbaugh to get me to post something like this. Instead of “OMG, what an awful thing to say”, maybe the reaction should be, “OMG, what made him feel like saying that?”

Is this an apology? Well, no, not really. The complaint voiced in the several e-mails I received on this post was phrased almost identically in each case: “This isn’t what I come to Byzantium’s Shores for.” While I sympathize to a certain extent, it’s only to a certain extent, and I reserve the right, as always, to write this blog for reasons that may not match up at all times to the wishes of those who read it.

I write in this space to express thoughts that I feel like expressing. While I don’t express every thought in my head here, I can in no way guarantee that sometimes the thoughts I express here won’t be the uglier ones. If on very rare occasions I don’t live up to your expectations of me as a blogger, well, I think that’s more on you than it is on me. In the end, the only expectations that matter are that what I post here is a real and accurate depiction of something I think. If not, then the blog is a waste of everyone’s time — mine for writing it, and yours for reading it.

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Porky Goodness

I decided, kinda-sorta on a whim, to make some pulled pork the other day.

Now, in the past when I’ve had the taste for pulled pork, I’ve bought it already-made at The Store, either our own make of it or a brand like Lloyd’s, which comes in a tub and just needs to be heated up. But while I used to love Lloyd’s products, over time I’ve come to find them too saucy and too sweet, and I’ve further learned that pulled pork is basically a very cheap hunk of meat, cooked until it shreds, and then simmered a bit in sauce. More or less.

So I bought two items the other day. I bought a small roasting pan, with rack; this is to supplement our larger roasting pan, which is big enough to roast a nice-sized turkey, but is a bit cumbersome when one wants to roast a six-to-eight pound cut of meat or a chicken or a game hen or…you get the picture.

The other item I bought was, obviously, the meat. I bought an eight-pound shoulder butt pork roast, which I laid out on the rack of my new roasting pan and seasoned on both sides with a rub:

Pulled Pork - before baking

Then I covered the roast with foil and put it into the oven at 375 degrees, where it remained for the next four hours. It was about an hour into this process that I discovered a flaw in the Homemade Pulled Pork Plan: even though the cooking time is six hours, your home smells like wonderful pulled pork after just one. Talk about hunger being the best sauce, and smells stoking the hunger….

After four hours, I removed the foil and popped the roast right back into the oven, for another ninety minutes or so. At this point I was checking the roast’s temperature every twenty minutes or so, aiming for about 175 degrees; when I finally reached that point, I took the roast out of the oven and let it “rest” on top of the stove for ten or fifteen minutes. (Believe me, folks, allowing cooked meat to “rest” before doing anything else is so essential to good cooking that, well, it’s almost a deal-breaker; cutting meat just after removing from the heat will pretty much destroy any effect you have from your careful preparation. Trust me on this.)

Pulled Pork - resting

Then it was time to shred and simmer a bit in sauce. I grabbed a couple of forks and shredded away, dropping the hunks of meat into my trusty crockpot. This took a lot longer than I had originally thought it would; even as tender as the meat was after that long in the oven, it still takes a while to physically shred eight pounds of the stuff by hand. Once I had it all shredded (except for a couple of large hunks of fat, which I removed), I poured in most of a bottle of barbecue sauce (a “Kansas City” style recipe sauce, although not the stuff that my good friend Mark likes to recommend because he knows the people who make it, but next time, that’s what I’m using because trust me folks, it’s good sauce), and then ran the crockpot on high for about half an hour, just to bring everything to a nice piping-hot temperature.

The final result? Utter sandwich heaven:

Pulled Pork - the end product!

Of course, being that our household is just the three of us, this process yielded an enormous amount of pulled pork for us. We each ate two sandwiches that night; The Wife and The Daughter had some more for lunch the next day; I had it for lunch yesterday and will have more today; and yet, as of this writing, there is still a huge container of it in our fridge. So far we’ve got seven meals’ worth of meat out of that roast, and we’re not close to done yet. Total cost will be under a buck a meal for each serving we end up getting out of it. That rocks.

My process here wasn’t any kind of “official” method for making pulled pork, but I put it together from reading some recipes online and looking at the shredded pork recipe in Emeril Lagasse’s cookbook devoted to pot-luck dishes. It’s as easy a cooking process as I’ve encountered. If you’ve never made your own pulled pork, give it a shot. It’s easy!

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Sentential Links #194

Wow, we’re closing in on two hundred of these posts! Awesome!

(BTW, with comment moderation being the rule here now, I’m reopening comments on these posts, with certain rules that are known to the persons who have need to know them.)

:: That’s why Lott was offensive and Reid wasn’t: deeds, not words. Maybe one day the right will get that. But I’m not holding my breath, because really, all they’re interested in on this issue is juvenilia and playing gotcha, because that’s all they think it is. They don’t get it, and that’s just sad.

:: The most depressing thing is that if Fineman absolutely had to try to make some sort of convoluted connection between President Obama and President Bush, there was a natural analogy that sort of fit- the tsunami in 2004. (The “Katrina and the Haiti earthquake are the same thing” meme is pretty obnoxious, isn’t it?)

:: From the iconic opening riff of “Sweet Child o’ Mine” and the driving staccato rhythm of Led Zepplin’s “Immigrant Song,” to the weeping wail of Gary Moore’s “Still Got the Blues,” this behemoth is one of the most coveted instruments on the planet. If the Fender Stratocaster is the precision sniper rifle of the guitar world, then the Les Paul is a veritable Howitzer of sound. It’s meaty tone can go from raunchy clack to the smooth and buttery lament of angels with just the flick of a switch.

:: And I? Well, although I am a mother who has long maintained that we are letting them go from the moment they arrive in our lives, I have learned this week that this is far more easily said than lived. But I’m fine.

:: Only on page 17ish and already seeking out “an incomplete concordance to Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco.” (Ah, I read that book when I was in college. I loved it…but I’m pretty sure I actually understood less than half of it.)

:: Cats make excellent jurors. (Oh no they don’t! They’ll decide someone’s guilt based on whether the box is clean or the food dish is full. A cat would acquit Ted Bundy if he filled the dish and petted him or her.)

:: Let me return to the original question: Isn’t it sad to be unable eat or drink? Not as sad as you might imagine. I save an enormous amount of time. I have control of my weight. Everything agrees with me. And so on.

What I miss is the society.

:: No matter what I do, it seems like I always will wonder about the road not taken. (Lynda’s blogging is always best when she’s being all existential! But she’s working her way through what potentially could be, for her, a huge decision.)

More next week!

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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