Nice Mullet?

Dear Bloggers and Blogettes

I hope these Thanksgiving musings find you stuffed and coming out of your tryptophan comas.  It leaves my hands doing well on the couch watching the Cowboys beat the dolphins. (no tuna was harmed in the making of this football game.)

I usually like to take holidays off from blog writing but I saw something in the news yesterday that I felt should not pass without comment. 

I found this headline. "FBI Arrest Sam Mullett, 6 Others in Amish Haircutting Hate Crime." really Mr. or Ms editor? You're handed an opportunity like that, and you decide to add clarity with the hating haircutter's first name?

"FBI Arrest Mullett, 6 Others in Amish Haircutting Hate Crime.". Who were the other six? Paul Pixie?  Charlie Crew? Wendell Wedge? Billy Bob, Bernie Beehive? Stevie Shag?

I will leave accessing the facts to you. The following is a link to one of the many web articles on the subject.

http://www.newser.com/story/133973/fbi-arrests-sam-mullet-6-others-in-amish-haircutting-hate-crimes.html  If you don't like this one, surf around there are hundreds more. Sam, as they say, is a media sensation.

I will focus on wild speculation and groundless postulation.

What would possess Mr. Mullett to sponsor these heinous hate crimes? What caused him to lead the impressionable in his midst into an Amish cult, and turn them into hate filled beard cutters? Was he always a megalomaniac, or was there a defining moment that scared him and set him on his path to evil and mayhem?

I'll bet he came back from Rumspringa in the mid-70s. He decided to come back into the fold.  His hair was growing back after a bad haircut during his months of sowing his wild oats and salacious disco dancing. He gets back to the community and goes over to visit Sara Yoder. In Sam's absence, Sara is being courted by Jeremiah Yoder (no relation). It is a tense and awkward situation.

Sara, having a repressed fondness for bad hair cuts, notices Sam's mullet and says nice mullet Sam. But Sam's jealousy gets in the way and colors his perceptions. He hears niiiiice Mullet. He misperceives scorn and derision from his beloved Sara and goes storming out of the house, nursing his wounded pride, jumping in to his buggy and heading down the road to perdition, guided by his own misunderstanding.

Or. . . . What if this is all a huge practical joke played upon the international news media?

 It has long been common knowledge that the Amish don't recognize Thanksgiving. First off, Thanksgiving came about a century after the roaring 1690s; the timeframe that the Amish cling to.  They have no context for Thanksgiving, the holiday. Plus, what do they have to be thankful for? All of their apple products come from a tree. Cider, sauce, butter, crisp, fritters are all good, but can leave a sour taste in your mouth when compared to the iPod, iPad, iPhone, Mac, iMac, . . . . The lack of electricity, phones, running water, all sorely test the thankful spirit.  Couple winter trips during the night to the outhouse with a middle aged prostrate, you can see why a group of people may not be thankful in late November, and choose not to participate in this English party.

I know what you're saying. Sure Roger, you make a compelling argument for nonparticipating, but how do you get to a huge practical joke. Stick with me, you have to work at wild speculation. It isn't always obvious. That's why they call it wild.

The Amish, while living like its 1699, have always been rascals at heart. Through the years, their patience was sorely tried by the ignorance of well meaning English media who would ask for Thanksgiving human interest interviews. They patiently explained that while they both wore hats and black clothing, the pilgrims were Puritans, and they, the Amish were not. Besides, the Amish hats aren't adorned with buckles.

Finally after years of media bias and badgering, the bishops and the elders got together and decreed that as of 1999 the Amish would celebrate "Thanksgiving". However, rather than be co-opted by the English, Amish "Thanksgiving" would be a day of practical jokes and hilarity.

Eleven years later, enter Sam Yoder (no relation) and his band of half a dozen merry men. They were sitting around at the shucking bee drinking cider that may have gone a little south in early November. As consummate multitaskers, they were using the time to brainstorm ideas for this year’s "Thanksgiving" joke.

They were spitballing unspectacular ideas left and right when Wendell Yoder (no relation) suggested that they could open up a barber shop and give out free bad haircuts to their unsuspecting more serious neighbors. The hilarious part is that no one would know the cuts were bad because no one had mirrors. Then Billy Yoder (no relation) suggested that since they were bad haircuts, Sam could change his last name to Mullet. They would be the Mullet gang, and each of the Yoders (no relation) could change their names to alliterative bad hair cut names. A few hard ciders later, the complete plan had emerged.

While the execution may have been lacking, and a few of the more prudish members may have over reacted and called the FBI, things will get sorted out. Besides, somewhat ironically, they are international media superstars. In time, people's feelings will be soothed and by next November the Mullet gang will be sharing some cider trying to capture the magic of a really great “Thanksgiving” practical joke.

Niiiiiiiice Mullet.

Take care

Roger

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do you hear what I hear?

Dear Blog Reader;

I hope this blog finds you doing well. I am fine. In fact, I am grilling a 22 lbs turkey on a big green egg for my extended family. We don't get together often but when we do, we baste our arteries in comfort food. Yum.

If you are new to the blog and would like to read one of (in my opinion) my better blogs follow this link http://yousaidwhatroger.blogspot.com/2010/11/turkey-in-straw.html  to a blog that I wrote last November about a ritual that I still miss from our days on the farm.

An update from the assassin deer that have been stalking me: it appears to me that they have called on Mother Earth and joined forces. In looking at my riding journal today, I noticed that every day that I have ridden over the past two weeks, the wind has been blowing at over 20 miles an hour, and since I have lost some weight while riding my bike, I no longer have my big belly which I used to slice through the wind. On another wind related note, make sure you tie down your inflatable Christmas yard ornaments because if your reindeer on a Harley blows over into my yard, I'm keeping it. I'm just saying finders keepers; losers weepers.

Last week, I left singing the praises of the little restaurant in Terre Haute. I wasn't done though. I just quit. I couldn't get my words around an idea that occurred while writing last week's blog.

I loved going to that restaurant and seeing the lost cause and I wanted you to love it too.

And I think that is the problem. I was talking with Grace about her Ghanaian experiences. She was relating that she is in a curious place in her life surrounded by curious people. Sure Ghana is strange; trotros, open sewers, little internet, cows in the bike lane and an infrastructure that just makes life hard, but that isn't what we were talking about. She is in a place where people on every side are trying to "save" her. Her world is filled with the churched that make American evangelicals look like Unitarians, and is living with feminists that make Gloria Steinem look like June Cleaver.  Grace says that both sides are trying to save her. In her experience, the definition of salvation is that she learns the secret handshake and becomes just like them. Anything less is anathema to either side.

It is true.  Few people are comfortable enough with their faith to stand resolutely alone in it.  In the absence of proof and things seen, we substitute the number of lemmings that can be assembled and shuffled along to our leaping point as proof for our beliefs. If not readily converted, the unenlightened are kicked to the curb and expected to keep silent so as not to offend or provide counterpoint to the comfort that sheer numbers of like minded people provide.  

Currently, the cliff that the lemmings appear to be marching towards most resolutely is the us versus the 1%. It is a great strategy. This stance allows us the convictions of 99% of our like minded friends. The 1% can only be brought low by such numbers. How much of this 99% - 1% argument is frustration feeling that the system is out to get the 99% and how much is just plain old envy of those smart enough to be rewarded by producing the things important to the 99%?

I loved growing organic produce. I was good at it. In all honesty though, society will reward the CEO of Sara Lee for producing ready made pumpkin pie and factory farm grown and processed turkeys at a very low price. As a result, Marcel Smits earned $5.9 million last year; me not as much. I love watching football. I am very good at it. In all honesty though, society will reward Peyton Manning $26.4 million for only watching football for 12 months; me not as much.

C.S. Lewis wrote of this in an essay called Screwtape Proposes a Toast. See link:  http://screwtapeblogs.wordpress.com/2009/06/30/screwtape-proposes-a-toast/  He is so much smarter and coherent than I am. In it, he argues that our faith is so dependent on being "like folks" that we tear down those who shine in a way that tyrants once did in a way to insure the supremacy of their reign.

Solutions? None really. I think that I will just sit here quietly with my questions.

Take care.

Roger

good food and lost causes?

Dear Blog Reader;

I hope this blog finds you doing well. I hope that you have found the appropriate way to eat your Halloween candy. Whether you plan to spread out the bounty of your haul and eat one piece a day for the next 3 months or if you plan to eat it in one giant orgy of exploding sugar and caffeine, I hope that you enjoyed or will enjoy it. For goodness sake, turn off the dentist warning loop dissuade you from the enjoyment that only 500 bite sized snickers bars can bring.

For those of you blogosphere denizens blessed with children, I hope that you took the opportunity to teach your children about taxes. When my kids were small, I instituted a candy tax on their Halloween haul. As a firm believer in the flat tax, I instituted a 25% levy. As the taxing authority, I was able to choose which 25% was turned over to me. No Smarties for me. I was the government. In Snickers and Reeses, we trust. What did the kids think? They hated it; exactly as it should be.

I had a unique opportunity two weeks ago. Grace has a college friend from Terre Haute. She knows of a restaurant that is staffed by the owner, head chef, and chief dish washer and they just happen to all be the same person. He has no coke or Pepsi products, no liquor license, and no credit card machine. If those aren't enough handicaps for a restaurant business model, he also has no menu, or published prices. You simple go in and let him know what you don't want and he will go back to the kitchen and make you something.

I was intrigued with the concept. It has hopeless cause written all over it. Bev and I had a day off in common a couple of weeks ago. We woke up and decided to go. I made a promise to myself that I would say yes to everything he suggested. It was wonderful. The black bean soup was the best that I have ever had. It was spicy and had a shredded beef in it. I also had this stuff that I am too much of a philistine to know its name, but it was served on a bed of spinach which was very good.

He went on to make four different entrees. They were all great. It was undoubtedly, some of the best food that I have ever had in a restaurant. I loved it all except for the sushi. Again, the inner-philistine broke out screaming cook the damned fish.

The afternoon was completed by a wonderful 45 minute conversation about kids, college, organic farming and being empty nesters with our host.

One of the really cool things is that he gave Bev a cookbook that she had looked at on his reading table. It had a recipe to make homemade Oreos. Who knew? I thought that they were made with magic. How could mere mortals make an Oreo in their humble kitchen? You can though and they are very good. Close your eyes and imagine a roll of butter (lots of it) and powdered sugar (lots more of it) waiting for you to cut it to double stuffed thickness. You can cut it and pop it into your mouth when the cook isn't looking. Oh the humanity, the goodness, the not having to mess with those dry, grainy, thin chocolate cookies.

Bev liked it. The food is good, but is unsure if it was worth the drive to Terre Haute. I on the other hand was able to enjoy good food and witness a lost cause. I loved it and couldn't wait to share it with you because I am sure that you will love it too.

Will you like it? Who knows? I just put it out there as a possibility.

http://harryandbuds.com/

Take care, and could you pass the salt? Ummmm.

Roger

I'm offended?

I hope this blog finds you doing well. I must say that I am a bit befuddled.

I was on the way to work this morning and I heard a newscast explaining how Kim Kardashian's mom, Kris Jenner, has gotten herself crossways of Native American groups because of some insensitive remarks.

It appears that Kris hopes that Kim's ex,what's his name, (why do you read a blog by someone so lame he can't come up the name of Kim Kardashian's ex) doesn't ask for  the $2,000,000 engagement ring back. She hoped that he wasn't an "Indian Giver".

Who can blame them?

They have every right to be upset. Those are offensive remarks.

But why isn't the media concerned about offending 49'er dog owners?  How will they feel when Kim is described as a gold digging bitch?

Just sayin

Take care

Roger