Best Lists

I know, because I know, that you've been waiting all year for this:

Best films seen in 2015 (I watch most films on Sky television, so some are from past years):

Nebraska

The Great Gatsby (Luhrman version)

Gumshoe

La Notte

Tracks

The End of the Tour

Amy

Inside Llewyn Davis

Whiplash

The Railway Man

I Origins

The Normal Heart

The Imitation Game

Her

Best TV: (besides last year's list continued)

Les Revenants (French)

Fortitude (British-Norwegian)

Backstrom

The Honourable Woman

The Fall

Borgen (Danish)

The Killing (Danish)

Olive Kitteridge

Mozart in the Jungle

The Brink

Bron / Broen (Swedish/Danish original of The Bridge)

Deutschland 83

[For your information: I am not admitting and will not admit to having watched and enjoyed the first two seasons of Z Nation.]

Best 2015 books: (excepting research)

Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg

Genesis: A Living Conversation, Bill Moyers

The Haiku Handbook: How to Write, Share, and Teach Haiku, William J. Higginson with Penny Harter

Moloch: or This Gentile World, Henry Miller

A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller

A Man Without a Country, Kurt Vonnegut

Haiku: Poetry Ancient & Modern, ed. Jackie Hardy

A Sense of Style, Steven Pinker

Anaïs Nin: A Woman Speaks

Henry Miller on Writing

The Air-conditioned Nightmare, Henry Miller

The Illuminated Rumi, Coleman Barks and Michael Green

Highway 17, Richard Beal

Locked Rooms, Laurie R. King

The Big Red Book, Rumi, trans. Coleman Barks

Dreaming Spies, Laurie R. King

Anaïs: The Erotic Life of Anaïs Nin, Noël Riley Fitch

Wild: Lost and Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, Cheryl Strayed

Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace

Mutt and Jeff’s Greatest Hits, by Mutt and Jeff

Happy Trials, Martin

Mutt:  Let me tell you a story, my friend.

Jeff:  I'd rather you didn't.

Mutt:  There was a new driver for the bus on Sesame Street. His first day on the job, he awoke bright and early, went to the garage, got the bus, and set off on his route. At the first stop there was a chubby little girl waiting for the bus. She climbed the step and got on, and said, "Hi. My name is Patty."

The driver replied, "Hi, Patty. Please take a seat."

At the second stop there was a second little girl, even chubbier than the first. She got on and said,

"Good morning! My name's Patty."

The driver answered, "Good morning. Please sit down."

At the third stop there was a little boy waiting. He was dressed in a white shirt and tie, and a suit with a vest, and he had a calculator holster on his belt. He said, "Hi. My name is Ross, and I'm special!"

The driver wasn't impressed, but he managed a smile and said, "Please sit down, Ross."

The fourth stop rewarded the driver with a grubby little boy with dirty jeans and torn sneakers. He got on the bus and said, "My name is Lester Cheese."

The driver replied, "Please take a seat, Lester."

Well, he's driving along and he looks in his rear-view mirror and sees that Lester Cheese has taken off his sneakers and is scratching at his foot. The driver pulls the bus over to the side of the rode, stops it, and says, "I can't take this any longer! I've got two obese Patties, special Ross, Lester Cheese picking bunions on a Sesame Street bus!

Jeff:  This is worse than waterboarding.

Mutt:  I got another one.

Jeff:  No, no, a thousand times NO!

Mutt:  Okay, here goes: There was a Russian man named Rudolph, a high ranking member of the KGB. One evening Rudolph and his wife, Helga, were walking along, and it begins to snow. "My, my, look at the lovely snow," said Helga.

"No, that is not snow, that is rain!" replied Rudolph.

"No, no, no, this is snow," she said.

"Look, there is a palace guard, we will ask him."

Rudolph went to the palace guard and said "Is it raining or snowing?" The guard was no dummy, so he said "What do you think it is doing, Rudolph?"

Rudolph replied, "raining." And the guard said "Yes comrade, I was going to say raining, also!" So Rudolph and Helga went walking off. The guard could just barely hear the KGB official say:

"Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear."

Jeff:  Oh mercy. They're getting badder.

Mutt:  Just one more.

Jeff:  I'm leaving.

Mutt:  During the invasion of Sicily in World War II, General George ("Blood 'n' Guts") Patton was preparing to take the city of Palermo. He checked with his meteorologists and learned the day he had chosen would be incredibly rainy. So he issued an order to place copies of the New York "Times" immediately beneath the tailgates of the transports carrying his troops. In this way the men could keep their feet dry.

His staff was mystified. Why the "Times"? Why not the New York "Daily News"? Patton was adamant; and one did not argue with the General. As five tons of old copies of the "Times" were being loaded, the General issued one of his greatest quotes to the assembled war correspondents:

"These are the Times that dry men's soles." 

Jeff:  I am going to kill myself.

Mutt:  Oh yeah, how?

Jeff:  With a poison pun.

Mutt:  Okay. See you tomorrow.

Jeff:  Yeah, see you.

Feed Thy Soul

When of thy earthly goods
Thou art bereft
And in thy hand
Two coins are left
Buy bread
And with the dole
Buy hyacinths
To feed thy soul.

Muslihuddin Sadi
13th Century Persian Poet
(slightly paraphrased)


My mother gave me this poem on my 16th birthday, along with a hyacinth bulb, a note of instructions on how to care for it, a pot with soil, and a change in house rules allowing me complete freedom of movement (just bring the car home by 7 am) and a raise in allowance on the condition that I buy all my own clothes. I was a grown-up. I could take poetry. Best gift of my life. I still grow hyacinths. Guess why.

Happy trials, Martin

20 Days and Counting

We've been without running water here in Messina for twenty days. The aqueduct (a big tube) broke and well, tough shit. You'd think they could fix it, but they say it's on a slope that's sliding downhill so it'll take months. You'd think they could find a temporary solution, a bypass or something, but they're finding that near impossible as well. It keeps breaking. You'd think they would work round the clock, but they keep losing days of work because they can't get the bureaucrat's permission or whatever. You'd think the leaders would rise to the occasion, but they're passing the buck and running for cover. The news is unreliable. One thing we know: the faucets are dry.

Imagine it if you can. No flushing, no showers, no drinking, no cooking, no dish-washing, no clothes-washing, no water for bars and restaurants to cook with, no water in schools and public buildings for the toilets, imagine the sick and elderly, the large families, the stink, the filth, the risk of epidemic. All the plastic bottles of bought water, will they be recycled? All the 10 and 20 liter jugs, bought for anywhere from 3 euros to 18 each, will they ever be used again? Of course they will. The system is broken, a bandaid won't fix it. This happens almost every year, just not for so long.

Actually, we've had a tiny bit of water in our building because an Army water truck filled our tank a couple times. We also bought a lot of water (ya think someone's making big bucks on our suffering?), and we've learned some things in these weeks.

It is possible to shower and shampoo from a 1.5 liter bottle.
Washing dishes by hand in the sink takes several liters but can be done.
The washing machine, however, doesn't work without water.
When you wash your hands from a bottle, one hand soaps the other pours, rinse, repeat.
Tempers flare in times of crisis. Duh.
All the managers and politicians involved should just quit regardless of demonstrable culpability. We are sick of you.
That huge chunk of the world that never has running water and us are closer now. Not feeling it, but feeling it.

Sicilians are very good at some things, though I can't think of what they are right now, but maintenance and fixing what's broken is not one of them. They say it'll be at least another week, perhaps longer. We say, let's hope we have running water for Christmas.

Happy trials, Martin


Mutt:  I got some really funny ones today.
Jeff:  I doubt it.
Mutt:  I'll prove it. A bee farm was started by a man who wanted to keep buzzy.
Jeff:  That's not funny.
Mutt:  A Redneck farmer first used a duck as an alarm clock – it woke him up at the quack of dawn.

Jeff:  That's not funny.
Mutt:  A Filipino man was hired by the circus as a contortionist – he was the first Manila folder.

Jeff:  Ditto.

Mutt:  A slab of stone was discovered with a multiplication problem carved on it – it was the first concrete example.

Jeff:  Ditto.

Mutt:  A special pail was invented for electric milking machines because one good urn deserves an udder.

Jeff:  Ok, I got one. A woman invented a glass diaphragm because she wanted a womb with a view.

Mutt:  An artist invented the traverse rod because he wanted to draw drapes.

Jeff:  Huh? At the first Arabian Embassy ball, everyone danced sheik-to-sheik.

Mutt:  Huh? At the first convention of mathematicians, everyone sat around multiplication tables.

Jeff:  At the first flea circus, a dog came by and stole the show.

Mutt:  At the first Kentucky Derby, the announcer told everyone that “Poison Ivy” was scratched.

Jeff:  A&W opened the first drive-in restaurant for people who wanted to curb their appetites.

Mutt:  Those weren't so bad.

Jeff:  Yes they were.

Mutt:  Messina with water.

Jeff:  Now that's a joke.

Annual Quiz Award Ceremony, and the winner is ...

The Infamous P.K.s

They called us simply, "The Worst." The worst behaved, the worst attitude, the most rebellious kids who would never conform, "The Worst." See Alice Cooper. Ministers sons are sons of guns.

Of course, some are little obedient angels who know how to shake hands with adults after church, who act like they own the place, who at an early age could take over for Dad (or Mom). Junior faith healers and Bible salespersons who could get those dollars out of parishioners' pockets with an innocent smile.

Then we all had to grow up our own imperfect ways, some remained sincerely religious, even became preachers (Martin Luther King, Jr.), some took other roads. Beyond the stereotypes and insults. But it was a weight growing up, a bad reputation, not making adolescence any easier.

"Hi, wanna go out?"

"Ew, you're a PK!"

or "Hell yeah, you're the bad-ass wild-child preacher's kid."

The song, "Son of a Preacher Man," popular when I was a teen, didn't help. Nor did the fact that preachers are often moved by their churches, so their kids lose all their friends at a moment's notice. Constantly starting over, like military brats.

Maybe the problem comes from seeing the religion show from behind the curtain (the hypocrisy, judgmentalism, parishioner meanness). The leader followed faithfully by the congregation can be all-too-human back at home. Or living in the so-called glass house, where whatever the children do can damage the parents good name.

Beneath the stereotypes of preacher’s kids as either goody two-shoes or devilish hellions lies a tense and sometimes taxing reality, the children of clergy say. Studies show that many PK’s, as the lingo goes, struggle with issues of identity, privacy and morality. There’s even a support group, Preacher’s Kids International, dedicated to the “celebration and recovery of those who grew up in the parsonage.” (Daniel Burke, Huffington Post)

In my list there are also Rabbis' children, you could add Imams' children, Hindu priests' children, etc. (Catholic priests' children?). And, as my brother pointed out, he and I and the other two boys are not listed but should be. And, as if to make a point, two of us four are still very religious.

Happy trials, Martin

Mutt:  Hiya, Buddy. Didya hear? My dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.

Jeff:  Let’s talk about rights and lefts. You’re right, so I left.

Mutt:  Oh yeah well, when William joined the army, he disliked the phrase ‘fire at will’.

Jeff:  This means war. The man who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

Mutt:  He drove his expensive car into a tree and found out how the Mercedes bends.

Jeff:  A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.

Mutt:  What do you call a marketplace that sells weird stuff? A bizarre bazaar!

Jeff:  Being struck by lightning is a really shocking experience!

Mutt:  The Hungary Wales Seattled down and Finnished their lunch, Hamburg-ers with Chiles.

Jeff:  My oh my. A bicycle cannot stand on its own because it is two-tired.

Mutt:  “What’s purple and 5000 miles long?” “Ooh! I know! The Grape Wall of China!”

Jeff:  How do celebrities stay cool? They have many fans!

Mutt:  The reason he didn’t become a juggler was… he hadn’t got the balls to do it!

Jeff:  Do you know what the Kung Fu Panda said?

Mutt:  The who? The what?

Jeff:  “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.”
Mutt:  For the love of Mike!