A Small Complaint From Philo Kvetch

Posted on June 23, 2007 by Jim

Well, here it is… the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year… and I’m pissed!  School is barely out, the summer is just kicking off, the All Star game hasn’t even been played yet and the days are going to begin to shorten.  This stinks!

Perhaps you think I grouse and complain all the time… and I do admit that I let certain things get under my finger nails… like scrambled eggs of improper consistency, or the traffic light at the junction of Route 25 and Route 59… the person who timed that light should be drawn, quartered and roasted on a spit.

But on the whole, I’m an easy going fellow.

However, this pre-mature shortening of the day is a bit un-nerving.  You will be glad to hear that I have been working on a solution.

We already tinker with the nature of the day with Daylight Savings Time.  My idea is just to expand on this formula for “extending our daylight.”

Beginning tonight at midnight we will move our clocks ahead 1 minute.  And we will do this every night for the next 60 days.  1 minute ahead each night.  That way we will diminish the effect of the days being shortened… we will be able to enjoy our later sunsets, more time to cookout or grab an extra swim.

And then when we get to October and move our clocks back to Standard Time, we move our clocks back two hours!!  Two hours to party hardy… and to grab extra winks! Woo hoo!

I know what you’re thinking!  “I get up early in the morning… I like to drive to work and see the rising sun.”  So do I!  A beautiful sunrise is a re-birth.

We could instead move the clocks back 1 minute tonight… and for the next 60 days do the same thing… we can extend our earlier rising sun thru the summer.  And when it comes to October, and all the newspapers put those little graphics on page one with a clock as a reminder to move the clock back, we can say “fuck it!  I don’t have to do anything… let everyone else run around like a nudnik fretting about what to do with an hour!”  And when those talking dummies on the News Shows remind us to move the clocks back, we can say “HAH! I don’t have to pay attention to this crap” and we can turn off the TV and grab a beer.

You can see there are two choices to this shortening of the day dilemma.  We can opt for earlier mornings, or later afternoons… either is preferable to doing nothing.  This is a matter that should be left for each State to decide.  Each State can hold a referendum to decide whether to be a “Sunrise State” or a “Sunset State” and then it will be settled.

Then we’ll make one of those maps that colours the States red and blue the way we did when Bush beat Gore… and everyone will know which State observes Sunrise or Sunset,  See?  Easy.

Remember, it’s not just a matter of complaining.  We have to be responsible for coming up with solutions!

Now that we have that sticky little problem resolved, I can turn my attention to the next project… each State issuing its own currency.  I can see it now — Connecticut can have a $1 with Jim Calhoun on it… and instead of keying the value to gold or the strength of the economy, we can value it to UCONN victories in basketball… Kentucky could value their currency to Bourbon.  You get the idea.

Stay tuned.

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Mave Fabish Brings Down a Ridged Zelbax

Posted on June 11, 2007 by Jim

There wasn’t a cloud in the blue sky.  The type of blue that you see on a mid-winter’s morning; but seldom see early in the planting season.  The trees were in flower and the ground had a plush consistency.  It was a day when reading a book in the fresh sunlight would have been an ample reward for a week of tending the vines.

Or so one would think.

But it was hardly a day to be off hunting Zelbax… by yourself.  Which is exactly what Mave Fabish had been off doing.

Actually his full title is Maven Fabish… but to pretty much everyone he is called Mave Fabish, or sometimes “the Mave”.  He made full Maven several seasons back.  First he labored as an Assistant, then made Associate, and then he was finally awarded full Maven at Venderbee’s None-Mal of High Study.  Rare for a Maven to come from outside the Study of Vine and Agriculture.

But Mave Fabish stood alone in his pursuit of Antiquities and the manner in which people hunted for food, waged war or in general used weapons.  In the spring and summer seasons he would leave the supervision of his vineyards to the younger staff  in the Department of None-Mal and he would take himself off beyond Steep Rock to Far Steep Rock and Outpost Village… content to spend every waking moment alone, but occasionally with the help of others from the Department, digging, inspecting and uncovering artifacts from eras that existed before the Time of Troubles.

He would say that the Land of Far Steep Rock was sacred… that it held “within its heart every story that could ever be told.”

His field study was not without its dangers… and I am not talking about the weather, which is windy and cold in the spring and brutally hot in the summer. Nor do I refer to the “Wild Bands”… unlawful types from beyond Far Steep Rock, who make occasional raids on land and livestock and who have been known to kill a citizen or two.

No.  The danger came from a variety of carnivorous beasts that treated Far Steep Rock as their home range.  The most feared predator was the Ridged Zelbax.  The Zelbax traced its origins to the common domestic sheep; but it returned to a feral stage at some point before the Time of Troubles, and it retained the lush wool coat of its herbivore “cousin”; but developed oversized razor sharp canine teeth for ripping flesh and jaws strong enough to snap the thigh of an adult human.  The “ridged” referred to the high stance of its shoulders that supported powerful tendons allowing the Zelbax to reach high bursts of speed to bring down prey.  An adult male could measure six feet at the withers and reach a length of fifteen feet from nose to tail.

One summer season the Mave had uncovered fossil remains that he judged went back before the Time of Troubles of an intact Ridged Zelbax and a collection of human bones.  It was clear from the evidence that Zelbax preyed on nearby early human settlements.  And in this case, this Zelbax had taken down what looked like an entire family!

The Mave told me the day he unearthed those bones he promised himself that he was going to kill a Ridged Zelbax before he died… not for its wool, not for the food; but to avenge what this beast had done to that family.

For those of us who know Mave Fabish, the story I am about to relate is at odds with what we know about the man… his peaceful and studious nature.  A nature that is unchanged… whether he is whisking away dust from a fossil, or trimming his Hoolish vines, or relaxing over a cup of Wren Hoolish, or lecturing on the way the Ancient Germans skirted the Maginot Line and swept thru the Ardennes.  Study war?  Yes, most definitely.  But to kill something?  No, never.

But on the day of which I speak, his thoughts were on killing a Ridged Zelbax to settle a score for the fossil remains he discovered years before.

Fabish told me, “… it was time to settle accounts.”

He went well prepared for the adventure.

“Our ancestors would deploy a team of seven hunters.  Four were armed with a centine, a spear 100 inches in length.  They would stand shoulder to shoulder like a giant ‘fork’.  The other members of the hunting party would be responsible for driving the Zelbax into the deadly phalanx of spears.”

I asked the Mave, “did it work?”

“Sometimes the hunters won.  Sometimes the Zelbax won.”

“Well surely you went with more than a centine!”

He sipped some Hoolish.  Thought for a moment… “No.  Over the years Hector and I made some 50 centines!  Each honed to killing perfection.  I wanted to kill a Zelbax the old way… the way our ancestors did.”

“Who else formed your hunting party.”

“No.  Years ago I decide that it would be me.  Me alone.”

“Did you have a death wish?!”

No.  The Mave truly thought that he could do this with no assitance.  His plan was simply to drive the centines into the ground, clustered in the classic “attack four” presentation, spread the blood of a pouflon in the area as bait, then upon sighting a Zelbax to run scared and lure the wooly monster into any of a possible dozen “nested” traps.

“Great idea Fabish!  You must have been drunk to come up with that plan!”

“Yes.  I probably was.  I had barely positioned the first four centines when a damned Zelbax was in on me!  The only thing that stood between that mean son-of-a-bitch and me was a bottle of Hoolish and a sandwich!”

“He went for the sandwich?”

“I wish!  And he didn’t go for the Hoolish either!  He exposed his scary fangs, snarled once, then again… and without delay took a running leap directly into the centines!”

“Are you telling me… are you telling me that the Zelbax… the Zelbax committed suicide?!”

“Yes.”

I sipped my wine and thought about this for a few minutes content for the break in the narrative.  “Well… maybe the beast had a stressful childhood?”

Then the Mave looked this way and that.  Sure that no one was in ear shot, “Look Santie, don’t spill the beans.  I’ve been telling folks at None-Mal that I brought down a Zelbax by myself.  And… you know, some of the ladies are hugely impressed!”

I guess this squared with what we knew about Fabish… a good soul who studied diligently the implements and manner of bringing death to man and animal… yet who couldn’t kill a fly… even if he was starving.

I poured each of us some Hoolish, “Mave Fabish… your secret is safe with me.”

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Rachel’s Day

Posted on May 29, 2007 by Jim

Rachel announced that this was her favorite holiday!  It being so close to Memorial Day… I figured it was that holiday to which she referred…

But no, she had another day in mind.  “Come on”, she prodded me… “you know… that Jewish Holiday…”

Armed with that hint I was able to dredge up from memory the holiday of Shavuot (as a kid growing up it was called Shavuos… the variant spelling owing to the difference in Ashkenazic — Germany & Eastern Europe — pronounciation and the Sephardic — Spain, the Levant & now Israel itself).  Regardless of pronounciation and spelling… this Holiday is not “front page stuff”, like say Rosh Hashonah, Yom Kippur & Passover.  Dollars to donuts a sizeable majority of American Jews know little of nothing of this Holiday beyond it’s name.

You can mark Rachel’s Day on your calendar: May 24th… or more to the point: the Sixth Day of Sivan.  The day is calculated by measuring seven weeks from the second day of Passover… and the next day is Shavuot (the Feast of Weeks).  Passover marks the liberation of the Hebrew slaves from Pharoah’s yoke and Shavuot marks the Nation of Israel accepting the Torah and committing itself to serving God. 

You wonder about the intervening 49 days.  What was that about?  I figure they should have signed on right after crossing the Red Sea.  “Thank God we’re out of here!”  Something held them back… maybe they were concerned about getting stuck with a whole bunch of rules that made living difficult… things like no bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches… and you can’t turn on lights during the sabbath, and you have to memorize a bunch of stuff for your Bar Mitzvah, and the services are far too long… and then real technical things that scholars study, argue and debate about (for thousands of years, I might add) without resolution.  Yes, I can see that it would have given one pause for thought.

I think the instigator for the delay was Dathan, the Hebrew overseer for the Pharoah.  Portrayed by Edward G. Robinson in the film Ten Commandments, he was my favorite character… a poor weasel of a man who would sell his soul for a talent of gold: “I am here, girl, because I would put no fear in a desert god and his mud-pit prophet. I am here because I bowed lower than my brothers before the Egyptians. Now the Egyptians bow low before me. Joshua wanted you. Baka wanted you. But you belong to me, a gift from Rameses.”

Dathan, even if he was ficticious, could stir things up… I can see it… “Do you really want to give up lobster??  Do you really want to fast on Yom Kippur?”  Yes… I think it would take me 49 days to think about it.  Maybe we should have thought about it a little longer… like maybe 4000 years, or at least until Sandy Koufax could have pitched in the World Series.  Well… what’s done is done, and we have Shavuot every 6th of Sivan. 

I don’t ever recall “celebrating” Shavuot when I was growing up… I think it was mentioned once or twice in Sunday School.  The other Jewish Holdiays are more understandable to me.  Feast of Weeks?  “Feast”?  Well… we commemorate the day with an all-night Torah study session.  In Synagogue we read the Book of Ruth.  We eat dairy foods (a good blintz every now and then is a good thing).  We decorate homes and synagogues with greenery.  I don’t know if all this constitutes a “Feast”.  Personally… the “all-night Torah sudy session” would be a deal killer for me.  I didn’t even do that for Erik Hansen’s 20th Century European History Final at Union. 

I can live with blintzes. 

Still, it’s mighty impressive that our Miss Rachel has adoped this day as the highlight of the year.  Impressive, in part, because Rachel was raised as a Catholic.  But it gets a little complicated here… Rachel’s Dad is Jewish… Rachel’s Mom is Catholic.  So I am told… when Rachel was 5 a plate of Manicotti and a plate of Gefilte Fish were put before her and she was asked to choose.  I can understand her choice. 

Yet… here it was… the 6th of Sivan… and she felt the primordal tug.  A tug that goes back 4000 years when Dathan asked, “Do you really want to give up cheeseburgers?”

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The Menace, Part 2

Posted on May 22, 2007 by Jim

The border between the United States and Canada is commonly referred to as the world’s longest undefended border.  The border between the United states and Mexico is a third as long and is not only regularly patrolled; but there are plans afoot to build a fence to eliminate (maybe reduce is a better word) illegal immigration.

Some would consider the flood of illegal immigrants as a menace to our country… and a drain on our resources.  On this I would agree.  But rather than look south, I think we should turn 180 degrees and direct our attention to the north… to Canada.

Our concern should not be Mexican farmers who can add to the work force and contribute to our society, rather it should be to the most hideous of creatures: the Canada Goose.

You leave the border undefended and look what happens.  You get invaded by… well, by… things that treat every piece of land as their toilet.

There are those that think that Canada Geese are charming.  They look beautiful and stately.  They’re cooperative… look at whole bunch of them as they are working their way thru the lawn… eating to their heart’s content; but one goose remains on guard, head errect, surveying the scene… looking this way and that while his buddies dine… then after a brief time on “duty”, the sentinel dips his/her head to grab a meal and another raises its head to assume guard duty responsibility.  See what I mean? Co-operation.

Terrific.  Pretty birds.  But they crap everywhere.  Not just on our windshields like other birds.  No.  But where we walk.  On our beaches, on our golf courses… on our property!  And to make matters worse, their nicely formed turds are a shade of green that blend them to the shade of your grass… so that you may not realize on a beautiful summer’s day that you have just walked into the “outhouse” ‘til you feel the turd squishing up between your toes!

Or, you take a gander at your ball placement… a mere 20 feet from the pin on the 2nd  green; but nestled next to a nefarious deep olive green turd left by some Canada Goose who thought that the sand trap was its litter box.

Menace!  That’s what they are.  Subverting our way of life.

What to do?  Well, I think a good place to start is to follow the lead of the Greenwich Town Committee on Health, Beauty & the Environment. They have generated a series of creative responses to the Canadian Geese Menace.

The Hot Foot  Geese thrive in cool, damp environments.  Using an underground wire grid installed by the “Geese Be-Gone Co.” that converts your lawn into a “hot plate” when a surge of heat is transmitted with a flick of a switch raising the ground tempeture to an uncomfortable 185 degrees within 45 seconds… Also good for keeping pesky teenagers off your land.

Shame, Shame, Shame From the Disney Technologies a lifesized animotronic of a grandmother, hair pulled back into a tight bun,  in a rocking chair with a Sharps Buffalo rifle across her lap and repeats in a craggy voice, “You should be ashamed of yourself!!” “Now gawan git!” “I ain’t kidding! Take that bathroom behavior elsewhere before I put a bullet up your fanny!”  There is also a grandfather version, unshaven with a jug of moonshine on his lap and a Portuguese Water Spaniel wagging its tail at his feet, “By God if you take a shit within hunnert yard of me I’ll chase you down and crush your head with this here jug!”  During winter months you can bring grandfather or grandmother in the home, add them to your dinning room.  Great for keeping order during dinner.

Take a Hint From Martha Stewart Enterprises a five eighths scale of a Christmas Celebration table.  Includes a table for twelve, twelve chairs, complete setting for table service and matching stemware impecably set on fine Irish linen.  Platters of side dishes, vegetables, potatoes, Parker House rolls, condiments and an larger empty platter at the head of the table with a card in plain sight: “This could be for you!”  Place this highly detailed mock up on your lawn with the accompanying decorated Christmas Tree, and no goose would dare set foot on your lawn!

Concern for God’s Creatures A program for diapering geese has been used for years in Carmel, CA.  Mothers of the Earth has developed a lightweight absorbant diaper that fits comfortably on most geese.  Sturdy, yet light enough so that wearing the diaper will not hinder flight (unless the bird is suffering from diarhea), Meg Tobachnik has been using them for near a decade.  She reports, “they train quite well.  In the morning after their swim in the pond they walk up to my porch… I slip them on, and they are off an scampering about in no time.  When they’re done eating I wait for an hour, and they go an change them.  And then I change them again just before the sun goes down.”

Bonjour! The Beaupre Language Institute specializes in French and near-French… “good enough to fool your friends and neighbors.”  The idea is to speak enough French to trick the Canadian Geese into thinking that they are still in Canada and have to travel further to the South.

Yes!  I think we are equipped to handle the menace!

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