Hummers for Jesus!

We have some neighbors who are lovely people, but they have absolutely no taste. None at all. They have "remodeled" their once-fabulous little ranch in a most horrific way, and have a million tacky cars (there's is a multi-generational household, I believe) but they have outdone themselves this time.

This morning, when I left for work there was a HUMMER parked in front of the house. Not only a Hummer, but a hummer with a "GOT JESUS?" sticker on it.

Whether one believes in Jesus or not, one has to admit that he doesn't seem like the type of person who would drive a Hummer. Saint Paul, yes. Joseph Smith, definitely. But not Jesus. Or Buddah for that matter. They just didn't need them.

But these people, lovely though they may be - and again, they really are a good family - belongs to the sect of "Muscle Christianity". They go to one of those big churches where they have stage lighting where the plaster angels should be, and a bad rock band where the altar should be, and not a statue or stained glass window in sight. Their services seem to consist of loud corny music that they respond to by holding their arms in the air, swaying with their eyes closed, and occassionaly bursting into tears. It's like a Journey concert without the drugs or the lighters.

To each his own of course, but I really wish they hadn't bought that Hummer. And if they had to have a Hummer, I wish it didn't have a "Got Jesus?" sticker on it. Not only is it wildly innappropriate and inordinately tacky, it's very bad grammar.

The worst $00 bucks I ever spent.

As part of my annual physical, my doctor recommended that I get a "dermatological screening", so I trundled myself off to the Seattle Polyclinic and did just that.

The screening itself was pretty non-eventful. No problems, yadda, yadda, yadda. But I had this wart on my thumb.

(before anyone starts going anywhere dirty, this is nothing venerial. I've had warts like that ever since I was a kid. You wouldn't believe how things like that gross people out though. It's just a wart.)

Anyway, I mentioned this to the doctor, and he said "we can take care of that", and got the sprayer thingy that did his thing. Took maybe two minutes.

So imagine my suprise when I got a bill for $100 from Polyclinic for "pre-cancerous legion removal" , and looked down at my thumb and noticed that the "pre-cancerous legion" (that really does sound better than "wart", doesn' it?) was still there.

So I called my insurance company, and they told me that I shouldn't pay it, and that this was part of the "provider write-off". I called the Polyclinic, and was told that I did indeed owe the money and that I needed a copy of the "explanation of benefits" (it came a few days later. It was just as exciting as what you would expect something called an "explanation of benefits" to be). I then sent an email to Polyclinic asking if I could at least get another zapping of the wart because it hadn't actually been "removed" as per their billing, and got this in reply:

Dear Mr. Langdon,

Thank you for your email. Patient privacy laws don’t allow me to go into detail in email about the treatment you received (so you can send me your phone number if you’d rather talk in detail in person). The simplest answer to your question is that the situation you described is what commonly happens in a dermatological treatment and it is not uncommon for more than one procedure to be necessary. The bill you received is for the procedure performed (vs. purchasing an outcome with as many treatments as necessary to obtain the outcome).

I hope this answers your question. Please feel free to send me your phone number if you’d prefer to talk in person.

Now, it would seem to me that since the procedure is labled a "removal of a pre-cancerous lesion", yet the "pre-cancerous lesion" isn't removed, the procedure isn't done. What do you think?

I'll probably go ahead and pay this damn thing, because I don't want my credit messed with, but it just goes to show you how stupid our health care system is. Hillary Clinton was onto something when she proposed nationalized healthcare.

Tee-Hee.....

You KNOW I couldn't pass up pointing out that Rush Limbaugh got busted for having "someone else's" Viagra on him when he returned to the US from the Dominican Republic.

Interesting place, the Dominican Republic. One of the worst, most notorious places for sexual trafficing in the world. Really offers nothing else in the way of tourism. Funny that a fine, upstanding person like Limbaugh would be there, don't you think?

Also, Rush is not currently married (but he has been, four times) so he wouldn't have any need for Viagra. Sex is, after all, only appropriate between a husband and wife, and only then for purposes of procreation. That's the Christian viewpoint, and Rush is a Christian. One of our leading proponents of traditional American values.

I'm sure this can all be explained away easily.... Absolutely positive.....

Impending Travel Alert

Mother Vel-DuRay and I are planning a madcap weekend get-a-way to Portland and points south in July. Think round pink suitcases, and matching Mother/daughter outfits (Mother suffers under the delusion that people think we're sisters, even though she's CONSIDERABLY older than I am, and looks it) We'll be taking the train, of course, and staying at a rather exclusive downtown location.

There's several places I never fail to stop at: The Space Room Lounge for instance. And all of the funky junky shops on the way there, along Hawthorne Boulvevard. Meir & Frank, even though it has now been absorbed into the Macy's chain, is also fun. (Their downtown store is being revamped, and God only knows how that will turn out, but we hope springs eternal.) Lastly, the Benson Hotel is always nice (such a cute bartender!) even though I haven't really trusted them since they replaced their Trader Vic's with a (gulp) el Gaucho.

But what other things? Are there other places for two ladies of A Certain Age to have a stately adventure? We know all about Stark Street, of course, so don't bother with that. And we really aren't the museum or Garden type, so that's out. And we don't like to walk long distances (our feet hurt) and we won't have a car, so don't bother with things not on a bus route. And don't bother telling us about Powell's - we're not illiterates, you know. We just need something new to do.

So?

Happy Monday!

What a weekend! To those of you who didn't know, it was Gay Pride Weekend here in Seattle!!! That meant lots of festivities, bare skin, bad wigs, and alchohol consumption.

Truth be told, I missed most of the festivities, and I sort of regret that now. This year was a first, in that the parade was held downtown, and the Colonel reports that it was a huge success. He also attended the Saturday Night march that went down Broadway and ended up at Volunteer Park, where he say Sylvia O Stayformore's Gentleman Friend on a Scooter, looking fabulous as all get-out.

I did venture out with Mother Vel-DuRay for some stately cocktails at The Old Home Place, and it was quite the party. Mother knows such interesting people, and they all hang out in bars, so naturally they were all there. There were some spilled beers and such mishaps, but everyone had a lovely time regardless, and everyone got some much-needed sun.

As many of you know it's been very warm here, which makes one do unusual things, and I am no exception. The heat drove me to redo the rain lamp, and create a tribute to one of my favorite cartoon mascotts, Reddy Kilowatt. Some people think I have too much time on my hands, but I argue it's just poor time management. Anyway, what do you think?

Happy Monday!

What a weekend! To those of you who didn't know, it was Gay Pride Weekend here in Seattle!!! That meant lots of festivities, bare skin, bad wigs, and alchohol consumption.

Truth be told, I missed most of the festivities, and I sort of regret that now. This year was a first, in that the parade was held downtown, and the Colonel reports that it was a huge success. He also attended the Saturday Night march that went down Broadway and ended up at Volunteer Park, where he say Sylvia O Stayformore's Gentleman Friend on a Scooter, looking fabulous as all get-out.

I did venture out with Mother Vel-DuRay for some stately cocktails at The Old Home Place, and it was quite the party. Mother knows such interesting people, and they all hang out in bars, so naturally they were all there. There were some spilled beers and such mishaps, but everyone had a lovely time regardless, and everyone got some much-needed sun.

As many of you know it's been very warm here, which makes one do unusual things, and I am no exception. The heat drove me to redo the rain lamp, and create a tribute to one of my favorite cartoon mascotts, Reddy Kilowatt. Some people think I have too much time on my hands, but I argue it's just poor time management. Anyway, what do you think?

Trying to focus....

Ugh. The things I do for you people....

Yesterday, after a hectic day at Today's World, a day fraught with the usual drama and glamour of fashion! fashion! fashion! I electroluxed down to the Sea-Tac Marriott to participate in a music focus group.

Imagine this: an ugly hotel ballroom full of middle-aged people, and myself (having reached "a certain age", but CERTAINLY not MIDDLE) listening to snippets of 631 - yes, 631! - songs, and rating them on the following scale:

Never heard it
like it lots
like it some
neutral
tired
never liked

Why do I do it? Certainly not for the sixty dollars. I do it for you. I do it so that there can be a little bit of input from people of taste and breeding. I did this to protect you from the likes of Phil Collins, Brian (or is it Bryan?) Adams, Journey, and Kansas - all of which received a firm NEVER LIKED from me.

(If I continue to do this, it is my hope to erradicate both "Freebird" and "Dust in the Wind" from the public airwaves in our lifetime.)

I have to say - what with the military raising the maximum age for recruits to 42 now, things must be going badly with the war: None of the people in attendance looked like they'd be able to do much of anything in the way of defense. The average poundage was impressive, and the labored breathing was all too obvious, as we struggled over our little fill-in-the-dots-with-a-number-two-pencil forms.

And radio people wonder why no one listens to radio..... If all of the programming decisions are being made by aging, slack-jawed yokels at tacky airport hotels, I don't have much hope for the technology.

But enough: Today is Today's World's Annual Company Picnic! We'll be assembling at one of our more deluxe waterfront parks to "Mosh" and "Gab". I supplying a trio of cold salads. They're bound to be impressed.

Ettique for Emergencies.

The first half of today's workday was spent in a meeting to discuss procedures in the event of any emergencies at Today's World Plaza. I am nominally, but not at all theoretically, the Floor Warden. That means that whenever the fire alarm goes off, I don the most unflattering orange vest, and have carte blanche to boss people around. Of course, should the unspeakable ever happen, I would probably be found cowering in the ladie's room, but one never knows. Crisis brings out different things in different people.

Then it was off to Costco where, for some reason I acquired a 48 pack carton of Ramen. Costco does that to people.

Rainier. The Only Beer We Drink Around Here.

As part of the on-going Rumpus Room Rehabilitation, I have been trying to find a fun OLDER Rainier sign. Somthing that spins or gurgles or flashes or something (well, probably not flashes) so of course I went to eBay, and found this lovely little gem:



But it went for $200, for Christ's sake. That would buy an awful lot of Rainier, so I just couldn't justify it.

(Rainier, by the way, is a remarkably bland beer. Designer Beer Glamour Pusses would rather drink dog urine, but I think it's fine, as long as it's cold. It gets the job done, and that's what's important to me. Besides, I like beer I can see through)

I don't understand why a beer that is so widely panned has memorabilia that is so sought after. It's not like they aren't making Rainier anymore.

So anyway, the search continues. The new bar will not be complete until there is a big gaudy Rainier sign somewhere in its envrions.

What can we do with this?????

This is our remarkably ugly yard. Whatever shall we do with it?

OMG!!!OMG!!!OMG!!!OMG!!!!

First that Folger's Commercial and how this. Have I died and gone to some sort of weird heaven?




YES! YES! It's an updated version of the classic Hoover "Constellation" - the little round vaccuum that floats on a cloud of air!!! The new version, while sans the happy colors of its predecessor, has a power nozzle (i.e. the little brush that spins) AND a HEPA filter, AND a more powerful motor that makes it glide even easier - or so I'm told.

I have two constellations - one orange, one turquoise - that I keep around for the fun of it, but a new Vacuum for the house use just might be in order. They're only avaiable through Best Buy right now, but the price is pretty nice: $188.

Feeling giddy.... must lie down for a bit......

Note to Self: No Ayn Randians before Morning Coffee!!!

When I am late for work (Which, I assure you, hardly ever happens - Today's World is my life) I catch the first few minutes of the Thom Hartman show. Thom is a great guy, and very very smart, but he always starts his show with some conservative weirdo. I guess the idea is to expose us to how the other half "thinks"

This morning they had some guy from the Ayn Rand Institute (No. I won't link to them. They're crazy). I've gone on before about Ayn Rand and how dubious I feel her philosophy is (not to mention how boring "Atlas Shrugged" was. Although "The Fountainhead" wasn't a bad romance novel if you just skip forward to the next chapter anytime Howard Roark starts droning on about something) but this guy really took the cake.

You have no doubt heard of the issue of "net neutrality". If you haven't, you should, because it's important, and will effect even danlangdon.com and The Good Taste Chronicles. Basically, the telephone companies are trying to squeeze even more money out of the internet. It's a drag, and they should be ashamed of themselves. It will also adversely effect freedom of speech on the net. You should be against it.

Anyway, this doofus from the Ayn Rand Institute (note: still not linking) kept going on about how the poor companies are suffering because they can't charge for this service, blah, blah, blah... Basically, he was saying, "Please, Please, Please Corporations! Pee on me!!! Please Pee on me!!!" (editorial note: This is not meant to offend any members of the "watersports community" - although one does wonder what they are thinking - but rather to graphically demonstrate how willing members of this philosophical movement are to let corporations, well, pee on them)

This is the Stockholm syndrome without having to go through all the trouble of taking hostages. Proves yet again how simple-minded the Randians (or whatever the hell they call themselves) are.

Anyway. That's it. I'm in a mood today because I have a bunch of scratches on my arms. (We were clearing brush yesterday. Unlike the President, who just likes to talk about clearing bruch, we actually did it) I need to be treated with therapeutic courtesy.

the CALIFORNIA cook book!

I usually buy old cook books because of the campy value - the recipes can be kind of scary. But not "The California Cook Book"

"The California Cook Book" was, ironically enough, written by an Iowan (Genevieve Callahan). But, like me, she moved to the west after college and stayed there - only she did it in 1920 or so. Her recipes are high-quality, well-written, and reflect the sensibilites of a person of taste and breeding (like most ex-Iowans are).

Why am I gushing about Genevieve on a Friday night, when normal people are out drinking cocktails and having affairs? There is a neighborhood potluck tomorrow night, and I was frantic - FRANTIC, I tell you - to come up with a good, cheap, easy recipe to counteract the cheap Betty Crocker cake I am bringing as a backup. So I turned to one of my old reliables from Mrs. Callahan - Minced Clam and Eggplant Casserole

I know - that sounds gross. But it's really, really good. Even members of Beacon Hill's Architectural Community - who don't really like anything - think this is good.

Mrs. Callahan herself seems almost embarrassed in the introduction:

"there are some who think they don't like eggplant, others who think they don't like clams - but whatever they think I find that they like this combination," says the Hollywood radio home economist who gave me this recipe.

Let's face it: I'm the type of person who would eat ANYTHING that was suggested by someone who called themself a "Hollywood radio home economist", but that's just me.

Anyway, here's the recipe...

1 Large or 2 Small Eggplants
1 small onion, minced
3 Tablespoons Margarine or Butter
2 7 oz cans minced clams
2 cups bread crumbs
salt and pepper

Wash and dice unpeeled eggplant, cover with boiling salted water and boil 10 minutes, then drain. Fry minced onion in butter until soft. Drain clams, saving liquid, mix cooked onion with clams.

Now, in a greased casserole, put a thin layer of crumbs, then a layer of eggplant, then one of clams and onion, seasoning each layer lightly with salt and pepper.

Repeat, finishing with a layer of crumbs. Over all pour the clam liquid. Dot top with a little more butter or margarine, and bake in a moderate oven (350 degrees) about 45 minutes, serves 6.

~~~
So try it sometime. And let me know what you think. In the meantime, I've got to frost this stupid cake.

Oh My God!!!! Drop Everything

Thanks to The Stranger Slog for this absolutely fucking amazing commerical. It's like a cool version of the below-mentioned "Up With People!", but on acid.

I'm going right out and buying some Folgers.

Down with "Up With People!"

I actually have this album, and I play it every once in a while just to remind me of how bad it is.

You know, you really can judge a record my its cover when the cover shows clean-cut men with guitars and endorsements by John Wayne, Pat Boone and Walt Disney. When you consider that it was sponsored by a razor company (Shick) you wonder why a person of taste would even give it a second glance.

I blame it on remants of programming from Abraham Lincoln High School in Council Bluffs Iowa.

Abraham Lincoln (or "AL", as the natives call it - pronounced Aye-El) was, in my day at least, the "nice" high school, meaning that it had mostly a college-prep curriculum. (Strictly state college, mind you. None of those haigh-falutin' coastal colleges for their student; Learn 'em just enough to get into Ames was the teaching philosophy. If you were artsy, you could go to Iowa City)

Anyway, we were kind of not very good at anything, and our sports teams SUCKED. The only thing we were sort of/kind of good at was music. We had an OK band, and an extensive choral music program (headed up by a manic masochist who would have been a natural as a megachurch minister if there had been megachurches at that time) The centerpiece of the choral music program, and hence the school, was the New Design Swing Choir. It actually won awards! Awards in Northwest Missouri, but awards none the less. We were starving for attention.

I was a peripheral member of the New Design. Not quite a New Design Groupie, but certainly less than a star. The less said about that, the better.

But if you were a true New Designer, the next step, the acheivement of your lifetime, would be to become a member of "Up With People!". Several of the alum had been members, so it gave us something to look forward to, a course in life that was different than the average alum experience (unwise first marriage immediately after graduation, military service, multiple divorces, all capped off by middle-aged alcoholism and senior dementia).

The school, wanting what was best for us in a sort of lassez-faire kind of way, nutured this dream by booking "Up With People!" at the school. Frequently. Everytime they came through town, we had a damn "Up With People!" matiness. Oh well, it was better than sitting through Geometry. That was one thing the faculty and the students saw eye-to-eye on.

I was never ambitious enough to think I could actually BE in "Up With People!", and by senior year, I was starting to realize that perhaps Council Bluffs and I were headed for a amiable separation anyway, but I went along to get along. I feigned the enthusiasm. I acted like the concerts were the greatest things EVER (although I usually snuck out and got stoned in the back of somebody's van. That always made the finale - which I never missed - much more exciting.) and I wished fervent "good lucks" to my friends who went for the auditon. (Although it should be said that, like being a member of The New Design, a lot of the determination of whether you got in was how much money you had for pert color-coordinated outfits. I don't think talent was really that important.)

You pretty much know the rest of the story. I got out of CB, and shook off my New Design tendencies. I haven't worn a three-piece polyester suit with colorful hand-made shirt in 23 years. But every great once-in-a-while, usually only after a few scotches, That Old Feeling kicks in, and I find myself warming up the old Motorola for a listen to the "Up With People!" (and people wonder why I don't drink hard liquor)

Then I throw up and pass out, and that feeling goes away. It always does.

Southcenter Break!

I don't know if I posted this one before. If I did, it was a long time ago, and you could use a refresher.

This is Southcenter, which is located - appropriately enough - south of Seattle. It is still very much in existence and a truly horrible place to visit. But it looks like it had a certain suburban charm back when this photo was taken.

(btw, whatever would posess one to send a postcard of a mall?)

Here's what the text on the back says:

Southcenter Shopping Center, the northwest's largest air-conditioned shopping city, features a terrazzo surface and lush tropical planters in the 40 foot wide mall walkway between the 110 stores. One of the highlights of the center is the speciallly designed movile chandelier which hangs above the main intersection. Many of the stores take advantage of the completely heated and air-conditioned interior by having wide open entrances with no standard doorways. Southcenter is one of the few shopping centers to have four major department stores; the BON MARCHE, FREDERICK AND NELSON, J.C. PENNY, AND NORDSTROM-BEST. Southcenter is 8 minutes south of Seattle at Tukwilla and the junction of Interstates 5 & 405.



Without further adeiu, Here is that famous Mobile Chandelier. I have no idea if it is still there (I doubt it) and I'm not going to go there to check.

It's a Small World After All....

UPDATE: I rode up on the elevator this morning with a Russian in a Denim Leisure Suit!!!!

Office buildings are their own little universe, and the building that Today's World Magazine is in (I call it One Today's World Plaza, because the real name is boring) is no exception.

I worked in this building once before, in another decade, when half of it was the headquarters of a major hotel chain. Although the hotel company is long gone, many of the people I saw before remain, and many of them are quite pequliar. Since it would be vulgar in the extreme on my part to take pictures, you'll just have to take my word for it.

A common theme seems to be fashion - or lack thereof. Many people who work here seem to be frozen in time as to what is stylish, and that seems to have some connection to how long they've worked here. Who knows - maybe I am falling into the same trap? But since I am timeless in my sense of elan, I doubt it.

Some of the more interesting people include:

* A very, very, very old man and his equally elderly secretary. Nobody really knows what they do, but they come in everyday, and they do get mail.

* A Russian lady who has a circa 1971 Mary Tyler Moore hairdo (only with a MUCH higher hairline) that seems to be permanently encased in some sort of plastic sealent. It never moves.

* A middle-aged refugee from the hippy era who has big mutton chops and wears numerous necklaces. He also has a fondness for those late 70's thermal vests.

* A guy who looks JUST LIKE the father on "The Patty Duke Show"

* A Toss-Her-Head-And-Try-To-Be-Young Danish lady who wears long swirly skirts and has a Dorothy Hamill haircut.

Yes, it is indeed a Small World here at "Today's World" Magazine.....

Oh. My. God. Can you spell FUN?

It's only $50/hour!!! (not including the costumes or happy people, or folksy background)

btw, you can find this on Craigslist.

Our Long National Embarassment Continues....

Daily Kos has the scoop on the latest misunderestimatonary eventothing

And now, a thrilling journey back to the Living Room...

Penny Lisa and The Hughes Living Room

Now THIS is how a Soap Opera should be! Lisa is actually still on this show (although she's mostly a kind matron nowadays) and even Nancy shows up from time to time, although she's REALLY old now. Chris is long dead, and Penny went traipsing off to Europe in 1966 or so and has never been spoken of again.

A sign of things to come?

Maybe. Or maybe not. One never knows what the future has in store.......

The Lord Speaketh

Dear Readers, you know that in addition to assissting you in all matters of taste and breeding, I am also concerned about the well-being of your eternal soul.

That is why I bring you the occassional religious teaching. Like this Extreme Bible Story website.

I take it as a good sign that the Bible Story website has not been updated since 2004. Obviously the LORD was pleased with this work, and chose to bring the publisher home to Jesus.

Anyway, enjoy the story of Elijah. There's nothing quite like nourishment for the soul...

A tip of the hat to Jesus General for bringing us this gem.

Lovely, Lazy Saturdays

While I of course adore the Colonel, and am really awfully fond of The Greek, I really like my Saturdays when they are both elsewhere. I suppose it's part of my descent into mental illness that I really like being alone on a regular basis.

The Colonel works every Saturday, and the Greek works Saturdays when she's away on the rails. This was one of those Saturdays, and this is what I did:

1.) Slept late (The Professor and I went to an absolute CRUSH in honor of the Chandelierier's birthday, and I had quite a lot to drinky-poo)

2.) Fixed the Sputnik Fixture (as part of the Rumpus Room Project)

3.) Fixed and hung the Storz Beer sign.

4.) Cleaned the brick on the basement fireplace.

5.) Hung new curtains in the kitchen.

6.) Wrapped barkcloth around the valance on the remarkably bland vertical blinds in the living room.

7.) Drank gallons of coffee.

8.) Bought a glue gun.

9.) Talked to no one but the dogs.

All of this while blasting the radio loud, and watching a Discovery Channel thing about the Panama Canal.

When the Colonel came home he was duly impressed before going to take a nap (the Colonel starts work at some insane hour, and quite sensibly naps before confronting the evening) All in all, it was a rawther fabulous day.

A blow against the cause of Forced Abortion

Editorial Note: This isn't Furnishings and China, but it's important and interesting (and it's very much about Fashion!). Please read on....

You may have missed this in the drama and glamour of that Alza who-sis guy that got killed in Iraq yesterday (6/8), but the guy who caused many of the problems back home, Tom DeLay, left Congress yesterday, due to his continuing legal problems. With him goes the advocacy for the folks who own the sweatshops on the Marianas Islands.

The Marianas Islands are an American protectorate, which means (among other things) that clothing made there can bear the "Made in the USA" label. To the manufactuers, it's the best of both worlds: old-fashioned sweatshops that makes stuff cheap, and the ability to pass off their stuff as "homemade", while charging premium prices.

Sweatshops are bad enough, but when you throw sex slavery and forced abortions into the mix, it gets downright nasty - and, unfortunately, that's what's happening here. Young girls are being lured to this "Island paradise" with the promise of good paying jobs. What they get when they arrive are a sweatshop job and prostitution on the side. (The Marianas is quite a destination for rich businessmen, like Neal Bush, who like the hookers). If these women get pregnant, by way of prostitution or not, they are forced to have an abortion. I am resolutely pro-choice, but that means PRO-CHOICE: Have the kid or don't have the kid. That's not what's happening here.

For years, the Democrats (whom everyone keeps accusing of being both just like the Republicans AND without a plan) have been trying to introduce legislation that would assure that the workers in these places would be subject to American labor laws which would mean decent working conditions, decent wages and - suprise, suprise - no forced abortions. But every year, Tom DeLay - who makes a big deal out of his supposed Christian faith and "pro-life" creds - killed this legislation. He felt that this situation was just dandy, and said to a meeting of the aforementioned businessmen "You are a shining light for what is happening to the Republican Party, and you represent everything that is good about what we are trying to do in America and leading the world in the free-market system"

Today, with the departure of Delay, house representatives George Miller (D-CA), Hilda Solis (D-CA), and John Spratt (D-SC) are introducing "The United States-Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas Human Dignity Act" which is designed to correct these horrible injustices.

Once again, the Democrats are proving themselves to be the REAL party of people who are pro-life.

Color-riffic!

Ed note: Please don't think I'm just here posting random schit on Today's World's dime. I've had a bunch of draft entries that I hadn't stuck out there, what with all the trouble with blogger. So Enjoy!

I'm so excited! The Colonel and I finally decided on the colors for the Hall, Kitchen, Living Room and Bathroom! This process, which was only slightly more complicated than the negotiations leading to the Kyoto accord, and twice as contentious, left everyone feeling a bit drained. But now that they decisions have been made, we look forward to a brighter tomorrow.

The vast majority of the painting will be done by the colonel, as I am far too clumsy to be trusted with those sorts of things, and the colonel is way too anal-rentive to allow anyone else to paint anyway.

The plan calls for a nice, neutral very, very light gray for the hallways. A sort of greenish-blue for the Kitchen. A charming light orange for the living room, and a dainty pink for the powder room.

With the Greek being gone for more or less the next month, we are hoping to start the work soon. Once that's done, a summer party might be in order. But that will require another round of negotiations (social events make the Colonel tense and nervous) so don't wait around for our invitation.

In the meantime, let's paint!

...in which I try my hand at Architectural Criticism

Back in the 50's and 60's, before religion started to get just TOO weird, the mainstream religions had a flirtation with modern architecture.

While some of these churches failed miserably in their execution (there is a Presbyterian church in SW Seattle that literally looks like a barn) others were classics. In Downtown Seattle, we have the ultra-mod Plymouth Congregational Church.



But, in terms of pure, unadulterated, post-war glam, very few things can match Christ The King Catholic Church in Omaha, Nebraska.



Christ the King (let's just call it CtK - which looks sort of like the Calvin Klein logo) is a rich parish in a rich neighborhood. The main structure was built in the late 50's and is just too cool, and represents a time of liberalism in the church that is unfortunately gone (Don't worry, I'm not going to get into theology, but I do want to give it some context, architecturally speaking).

The most wild aspect of this church are the stained glass windows.



The building's roof doesn't rest on the exterior walls (rather, it's supported by internal columns, sort of like a bunch of umbrells - or so the CtK website says) The windows run the entire perimeter of the building and are a great example of 1950's abstact art. The whole effect is sort of like the old TWA terminal at JFK, except the whole thing is awash in color, it's not as curvy, and you probably never saw a bunch of miniskirted stewardesses walking around in it.

Here's a picture with those columns...




All in all, it's a marked departure from the previous Catholic architecture which, while showy in it's own way, was a bit more gloomy and middle-agey. We only went to CtK a few times, for wedding, funerals and such, but to a budding MCM fan, it was always a treat, and much more interesting than regular church.

This, as I noted, was a short-lived trend in Catholic architecture. After Vatcian II, which was the big liberal thing in the 60's, church architecture got really cheesy, with lots of red brick and narrow windows and white walls. No pizazz whatsoever.

Anyway, whatever your feelings about churches in general, or Catholicism in general, I hope you enjoyed these pics of CtK.

KIXI, how could you?

One of Seattle's best kept secrets is Seattle's KIXI radio station. (880 on your AM dial!) It's a nice mix of 40's-70's music with quirkly local announcers.

Or, at least it was.

They still have the music, but now it's a creepy service called "Music of your life" the comes out of LA or someplace. Gone are the strange locals (some of whom sounded like that might have been a bit tipsy). They were all let go in a typical radio station "Bloodbath" and replaced with this new thing.

At first I hated it, and I'm still not in love with it. But they do play a bigger variety of music, and they don't seem to repeat themselves so much. But still, it's always sad to see a local institution replaced by a franchise service.

And now for a pallette cleanser....

It's too pretty a day here in Seattle to waste our time on runts like Coulter, so let's talk about coffee.

When I was a kid, they tore down my elementary school and sent us to a school on the west end of town, which is where the industrial stuff is located. Depending on the direction of the wind, we either got an overwhelming smell of "Beefland" (which sounds like a happy place for cows, but wasn't) or the Butternut Coffee factory (which wasn't a very happy place for coffee beans, but it smelled a LOT better)

Back in those days, I was not into coffee at all. It was something that my parents drank (and drank and drank and drank) in restaurants after everyone was done eating, and it seemed like the ultimate in boring adult behavior. But I always like the smell of coffee beans. And sorghum, but that's another matter entirely.

Anyway, as I was in line this moring to get my daily ration of the stuff that makes working at Today's World bearable, I got a strong whiff of some freshly roasted coffee beans and was immediately taken back to those mornings at James B. Rue Elementary School and those non-Beefland mornings.

That's all. I just wanted to say that and get everyon's mind off that dreadful woman.

There's a word for women like Ann Coulter

But it's not used in polite society, outside of a kennel. (Yes, I stole that from "The Women". If you haven't seen it, you should)

Actually, there's an even more appropriate word, and it rhymes with Runt.

See what she said now. It sounds like someone's got a case of widow envy.

But that means someone would have to marry her first. I'm sure if they did, they'd welcome death. Imagine servicing THAT on a regular basis.

The First Choice of People Who Like a Second Glass of Beer

When I was just a tasteful tyke, my parents would lavishly entertain: The Catholic Family Association, Pottowattamie County Democrats, The Jesuit Lawyer's Party, the list goes on and on.

All of these social occassions meant plenty of Ruffles with Onion Dip, Rumaki, Lazy Susans loaded with veggies and California Dip, Cheese Trays, and tidbit plates loaded down with Russel Stover's candy, for those with a sweet tooth.

But most of all, these events meant beer: Lots and lots of Beer. And in Council Bluffs - if one were strictly liberal and up-to-date - that meant Storz.

I grew up around Storz Beer. The brewery was over in North Omaha (which, being the black neighborhood, was always an exotic destination for a oh-so-very-white-child like me.) It had two fabulous tasting rooms: The Trophy Room and the Frontier Room. The Storz family lived in a fabulous turn-of-the-century mansion not far from Mutual of Omaha. It's still there, but there are no Storz left. They are all in the family crypt at Forest Lawn now.

My mom and aunts had all of the Storz cookbooks, my dad and uncles had Storz Coolers, and every bar you went into (Iowa is not as stuffy about kids seeing the inside of bars as Washington state is. ) had a fabulous Storz sign. They bubbled and gurgled and blinked and spun. They were by far the best beer signs in your average bar.

Storz is, like most things I write about, long gone, but the memorabilia lives on. And rightfully so: Like Union Pacific's Passenger advertising back in the day, the remaining Storz stuff (usually found on eBay) shows a level of sophistication that one just doesn't expect from Omaha anymore. Actully, we didn't expect it then, either. I think they must have had people in Chicago do their advertising for them.

And, if for some reason you are into game (as in hunting.) you will not find a better cookbook than any of the Storz cookbooks. The Storz family loved their game, and had a huge ranch in Western Nebraska for hunting. Remarkably, no Vice-President's ever shot anyone there, but the Storz were Democrats.

Anyway, over the past week or so, while the Colonel was off working on the train (he's back in the office now) I found me some fun little Storz stuff that I am planning on incorporating into the Rumpus Room, which is currently undergoing a redecoration. (pictures coming soon)

In the meantime, enjoy this fun little Storz Beer sign, which will soon grace the new bar.

I just got a call from the NRA!

(editorial note: I haven't forgotten about you, darlings. Blogger, the people who enable "The Good Taste Chronicles" has been having some problems, and I haven't been able to post. But here I am)

So I was just sitting here, and the phone rang.

Me: Hello?

Voice: Is this Dan Langdon?

Me: Yes.

Voice: I'm calling from the NRA, and I wanted to thank your for your support in the past. Let me ask you a question: What would you do if the UN came into your home and took your guns.

Me: Well, that's a pretty improbable, reactionary question. Since I don't have any guns, I think they'd be disappointed. I think you have the wrong Dan Langdon. I've never supported you, and I can't imagine I ever would.

Voice: Sorry to take your time.

Me: Not at all, not at all.

So how do you think the NRA got MY name? That would be like the ACLU calling Ann Coulter (who is still an evil bitch, btw)