Rec Room Ruiminations

We have a rec room, the Colonel and I, and it is a very nice space: Knotty pine, tile floor, fireplace, view of the Cascades. Yet something about it just hasn't clicked. It's sort of dark, for one thing, and the lighting is sort of problematic as well.

But I totally rethunk it over the weekend, and I think it came out pretty well.

I started out by drawing together several problematic parts into one problematic corner (the corner where the foundation sagged in the 1965 earthquake. Everything kind of slants in that corner)

That's where I put the Silver King Milk Cooler, sitting on top of the Merry Mates Record Cabinet, the Cocktail Bar, with the Family Heirloom standing in as a back bar. Voila! A fabulous little cocktail corner. The beauty of it is that people won't notice the slope, or if they do, they'll blame it on their drinking!



I also coerced the professor into helping me move the Kimball Organ downstairs (there was too much junk in the Living Room) so now we have a true entertainment room. I serenaded the dogs last night with a selection of broadway tunes, and they just loved it!

OMG - Did I not tell you about the new stove?

Kids, it's been crazy around Chez Vel-DuRay, what with the new floor and painting and all that. So crazy that I forgot to tell you about the new FABULOUS 400 GAS RANGE!!!!



I know what you're thinking: That looks just like the
Frigidaire Flair, but there are OODLES of difference. For one thing, it's gas. For another thing, the oven doors swing OUT instead of up.

The oven is just a tad bit bigger, and it has a ROTISSERIE, which is perfect for your rottisable things. It also has a neat-o panel light, and a keen burner area light.

The burner configuration is unique they are all in a line, instead of the usual four burner configuration, and that gives you a dandy little cutting board surface in front of them, as you can kind of see in the fascinating picture of boiling water.



(That cutting board, by the way, was SO GROSS. The Colonel finallly resorted to sanding it to get the decades of grease off it. Just thought you'd like to know that.)

Anyway, for you Flair fans, fear not: The flair is still very much a part of our life. It lives in what is gradually becoming the basement kitchen.

So Bon Apetit, My dears. Life if just a little bit better when things are fabulous, don't you think?

Fresh as a flower - in just one hour! (almost)

There was a boy I knew (let's call him Brad) who used to talk about a seminal moment in his young life: The day he wandered into some flooring department of some department store (back when department stores had flooring departments - I never said he was still a boy) and they had a display for the revolutionary new concept of the "press-on" floor that featured a young homemaker, looking in dismay at her ugly old floor and wondering - just wondering, tip of thumb in mouth - if she could put in a whole new press-on floor before her husband bought home the boss and the new client for dinner.

As I recall - and this is second-hand, mind you, but I have no reason to doubt it - the young homemaker not only laid a whole new press-on floor but also served a fabulous newlywed dinner! (most likely a casserole. Brides are big on casseroles)

So, with that example in mind, the Colonel and I set out to refurbish the entry floor this evening. Armed with nothing but a heat gun and a scraper (to get the old press-on floor up) we hit it, and finished up in less than two hours! (we could have done it quicker, but neither of us are that young, and we're far from being brides.)

Here's the almost finished product (with a glimpse of the old floor so you can "Ooo" and "Ahhh" and think about what an improvement it is).

Thanks Brad!

(Please note: I'm sure that members of Beacon Hill's Architectural Community - and doubtless those in the greater Architectural Community - will sniff at a press-on floor. Particularly a press-on floor that tries to look like stone. But it's "Cheap and Cheerful", as we like to say around these parts, and there's something to be said for that in an area that is constantly trod upon by three humans, three neurotic little dogs, and a particulary surly and somewhat elderly cat)

Feeling Happy today? Special Spring in your Step?

Why, that's because it's Sylvia O Stayformore's Birthday! Happy Birthday, Girl!

Rediscovering Hopscotch

I've been trying to cut down on all the china that is floating around Chez Vel-DuRay (It really is insane that we have seven - SEVEN - separate sets of dinnerware, and I refuse to become the sort of "confirmed bachelor" that has a bunch of china doo-dads floating around the house!)

The trouble is that some of it is so cool.

We have the Colonel's mother's wedding china, which is very nice, in an elegant sort of way (white on white with a subdued texturizing and a silver rim). For obvious reasons, it's not going anywhere.

Then there's the Colonel's bachelor dinnerware, which is colorful, but nothing to write home about - it practically SCREAMS Fred Meyer. We are supposed to be shipping it off to the polish woman one of these days, but we haven't gotten around to it. But I'm thinking this weekend might be the time.

Then there's the Franciscan Starburst, which is sort of the epitome of 50's dinnerware, but that's what's wrong with it. When you see something show up in a Cherrio's commercial, you know it's probably jumped the shark, so that stuff is going over to eBay or cragislist or something like that.

Along the same lines are some miscellaneous pieces of Franciscan "Autumn" and those are on their way out also. Except for the platters. I love the nice big platters that came with those - and the nice big non-divided serving bowls.

But then there's California Contempora, which we use as "everyday", and is really quite a bit of fun. Definitely a keeper.

And the Melmac, which is cute and colorful, but most likely toxic and getting a bit boring. It will be farmed out as well.

Some time ago I made a committment to Navajo by Metlox, and I intend to stand by that commitment. It's an elegant, cool pattern, even if the Colonel doesn't like the coffee cups.

But that leaves us with the special pattern - the pattern I just can't bear to part with: "Hopscotch" by Salem



What I did not know, until I looked it up, was that "Hopscotch" was designed by one Viktor Schreckengost who did all sorts of interesting things, all while living in Cleveland, for goodness sake!

While the plates are fairly ho-hum (except for the groovy pattern) the serving pieces are wild - Old Victor really had a good eye for this sort of thing.

It's still readilly available on eBay, and still pretty affordable, so I've decided that, in exchange for jettisoning three sets of perfectly lovely dinnerware, I'm going to beef up the Hopscotch just a tad, so that there are enough place settings to serve eight (which is about all I'll ever hope to serve anyway - I'm not getting any younger after all.

So keep you hands off the Hopscotch, you eBay whores!

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane Song

Oh dear.... oh dear, dear, dear....

NPR Flashback.

When I was in college, I worked for a public radio station operated by the University of Iowa. It was an NPR affiliate, with call letters KRUI

I didn't work there very long, because it was so boring and stressful. As announcers, we had to speak in a boring, slow, hushed tone where we had to an-nun-ci-ate. There's nothing wrong with speaking clearly, of course, but this is how we spoke:

(Music ends)
(Pregnant pause)
"Sonata in B minor"
(Pregnant pause)
by Franz Liszt
(Pregnant pause)
Performed by the Minneapolis Symphony orchestra under the baton of conductor egghead longhair
(two pregnant pauses)
...and you're tuned to KUOW. Classical radio for Eastern Iowa. 94.9 on your FM dial. The time is 1:53pm.
(pregnant pause)
A look at the Weather: Expect high clouds and low precipitation for the duration of the day. Highs in the low to mid 50's, lows in the 30's.
(and so on....)

WSUI (the AM affiliate) was only a little bit better. We could speak more normally, but we had to give farm reports with prices for things like "Barrels and Gilts" and give traffic reports (not that there was much traffic). We didn't have to worry about traffic reports on KSUI, because hardly anybody listened to it, and the people who did probably didn't go anywhere.

BTW, the KSUI audience was entirely pretentious bitches. Mispronounce anything, and you were sure to get a condescending letter from Professor Passive-Aggressive who would take out their frustration and hatred of students by writing scathing and condescending letters.

Anyway, this all came flooding back to me because I read a webblog where people were bitching about how boring the Seattle NPR station, KUOW, is. I don't think KUOW is boring at all, indeed I find it very interesting. Certainly oodles better than KSUI or WSUI.

But just to make sure I hadn't made KSUI or WSUI more boring in my imagination, I surfed on over to take a listen. KSUI is still playing chirpy music, and WSUI is still going on about the price of barrels and gilts (I still don't know what that means) I even sat through one of the interminable symphony in e flat minors or whatever just to listen to the announcer - believe me, nothing has changed. This is one piece of nostalgia I take no comfort in.

Hard Hat Jesus and the Turban Guy

Yesterday, after watching President Fetal Alcohol Syndrom terrorize "snowflake babies" in his pitiful pandering to the Christian Freak Vote (at the expense of everyone who is NOT retarded.) I decided to go get some new shoes. I admit that I tend to take the genteel poverty look a bit too far at times, but even I realize that when you shoes are starting to split, it's time for new shoes.

So I headed off to Frederick & Nelson. Really, I don't know what's up with Frederick's these days: They were closed for what seems like FOREVER, and when they reopened, I can't find any of my favorite departments. That's a real shame, because I desparately need a new vacuum cleaner.

Anyway, I bought my shoes (from a very attractive young man. I will say that for Fredericks - the new crop of employees is much more attractive than old those old people they had before)

When I walked out the door onto Pine Street, there was a very unusual old man out in front. Even for the crowed that is usually in front of Frederick's, he was unusual. He was carrying a wooden cross, and had a hardhat on that said JESUS across the front. As might be expected of such a person, he was looking for an easy mark to harass, and there was the original mark, Yours Truly.

"DO YOU KNOW JESUS?" He screamed at me (Why do these people always have to scream? What is it about religious zealots that makes them hard of hearing?)

"No. I'm an atheist" I replied (Not strictly true, but that usually shuts them up, so I don't think Jesus - or whoever - would mind. Actually, my theology leans towards the idea that we are some sort of cosmic Sea Monkey colony that a omnipotent being forgot about.)

"YOU NEED TO KNOW JESUS. YOU NEED TO BE WASHED IN THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB!!!" he replied.

"Yuck. That's gross" I said, making my best "ewww" face. "I don't like lamb" (Another lie. I LOVE lamb, but that doesn't mean I'd wash myself in lamb blood)

That got him. He stared at me for a moment, and then turned to the next victim, who just happened to be a rather imposing guy with a turban. "DO YOU KNOW JESUS?" He screamed at him.

"No of course I don't know Jesus. Do I look like I know Jesus?" He said, pointing to his turban. "Go away, you ridiculous old man, and take your ridiculous cross with you"

The creepy old man took a good look at the turban guy, decided that he didn't want to become a martyr just yet, and beat a hasty retreat to whereever people like him go when they are not pestering people about Jesus.

All in all, it was a good day for the heathens. But it was a rather excellent day for headgear.

They Call it pollution, we call it life....

I call it incredibly ballsy bullshit. And no, this ad is not a parody.

Guess who I just saw at the Westin?

There I was, minding my own business, and who should I see but the legitimately elected Vice-President of the United States!!!! (John Edwards, that is - not that creppy corpse that was appointed by the Supreme Court the first time after stealing the election in Florida, and stole the election in Ohio the second time)

Not that I noticed, of course. I'm lousy at celeberity sighting. (I once rode on an elevator with Sylvester Stalone and didn't know it until he got off) But it's still neat to know I was near the real Vice-President.

A new lease on life

The Colonel and I (well, mostly the colonel) have been busy little painters the last few days, and one of the things we (well, he) have been busy with is our powder room.

It had a dreary little sink, and a blah little medicine cabinet, and like all of the rest of the house, it was painted rental white. But look at it now!!!



A trip to second use building materials and a coat of paint gave our dreary old powder room a new look, and I love it. The sink is fabulous (although we need to fix it's cold water spigot, which is kind of wimpy) and those shades on the medicine cabinet are not original, but the chandelierier is supposedly sourcing replacements for me (aren't you, chandelierier? hello?)

Then we (okay, He) moved onto the kitchen and look at this!





Yes, it's a colorful season here at the Good Taste Chronicles, but you ain't seen nothing yet. Next stop is the living room!!!

A Girdle?

I simply adore women. Really, I do. They're so sensible, and level-headed. They smell pretty. They have all kinds of knowledge about removing stubborn stains, and they are wonderful at giving advice about men. Yes, there's not much about women that I could ever find fault with.

Except their underwear.

And I'm not even finding fault with their underwear, I just don't know much about it. The lingerie department always makes me cringy - all those straps and lacy things and doo-dads and gew-gaws. Like Parcheesi, it's just not something I've ever been that interested in.

But even I know enough about "foundation garmets" to know that a sixteen pound girdle would have to be one honking large girdle. But yet that's what the reverend James Dobson waxes nostalgically about in his memoirs.

It really says a lot about why he is the way he is.

Dobson, for those of you who don't know, is the director of "Focus on the Family" - one of those horrible christian retardlian organizations. Reverend Dobson is known for many things, but I think this bit of advice that he gives to parents about how to avoid raising a gay son really sums it up nicely:

Meanwhile, the boy's father has to do his part. He needs to mirror and affirm his son's maleness. He can play rough-and-tumble games with his son, in ways that are decidedly different from the games he would play with a little girl. He can help his son learn to throw and catch a ball. He can teach him to pound a square wooden peg into a square hole in a pegboard. He can even take his son with him into the shower, where the boy cannot help but notice that Dad has a penis, just like his, only bigger.

Maybe I'd feel the same way if my mom had beat me with a girdle....

70s era PSA - VD is for Everybody

A timely message from us here at danlangdon.com and the Good Taste Chronicles.

Isn't it neat that his parents named him after a hotel?

Where the north tower of the Westin Hotel now soars 47 stories into the air, there once was a hotel called the Ben Franklin.



The hotel was not memorable, and I can't find much information about it. I know that the Doormen wore colonial outfits (to fit in with the name) and that it was grafted onto the much new Washington Plaza Hotel, which was built in 1969 on the site of the former Orpheum theatre, and was considered to be the lesser accomodations. When it was gone, it was gone, and nobody mourned it.

But it did have one cool thing: The outrigger.


The Outrigger was founded by the legendary Trader Vic - Vic Bergeron, who later had a whole chain of his "Trader Vic's" restaurants in many of the finest commercial hotels in the country. (They were everywhere: The Plaza in New York, The Palmer House in Chicago, the Benson in Portland, The Hilton in Detroit, The Beverly Hilton - I could go on and on.) The Outrigger closed in 1979 or thereabouts when the Ben Franklin was demolised to make way for the Westin, and a new Trader Vic's was opened on the motor level of the Washington Plaza (which is now the south tower of the Westin.)

I was never in the Outrigger. (I was MUCH too young! Literally a CHILD when it closed) but I was working at the Westin when Trader Vic's closed (to be replaced by a sushi bar which has since closed, leaving the spot empty) It was a legendary party, with many of us employees getting very drunk indeed.

There is a new Trader Vic's in Bellevue, and I really should go to visit it, but it looks like something someone would describe as "airy", and not at all like the dark, sinister and fun Trader Vic's of yesteryear.

So anyway, there's your lesson about the Ben Franklin. Astound your friends with this bit of knowledge.

UPDATE: Here's a picture of the entrance of the Outrigger from Fifth Avenue that I promised you. It was just down the street from the Town Center Motel.

Don't even try to tell me you don't wish you could have gone there.

Like a failed facelift.....

In my trolling about (on eBay, that is) sometimes you stumble upon something that you have to look at twice because it looks sort of familiar, and then you realize that it's the younger, more attractive version of what you are used to seeing.

Take the Seattle King's Inn.....



This motel has been on Fifth Avenue for a million years. I see it because it is next door to Top Pot, where we often have office meetings. It's one of those places that will undoubtedly disappear one of these days for some horrible new condo or apartment development.

But take a look at it in it's younger days as the "Town Center"



Now that's svelte. This picture is obviously pre-monorail, because if you stood where that photographer stood to take the picture, you'd undoubtedly see the tracks lurking over it. But beyond that, all the sexy minimalistic touches have now been painted over or covered with those stupid teal awnings.

I'm sure that the Town Center was just as unpleasent of a place as the King's Inn is: Those courtyard hotels are nothing but echo chambers, and those nice big picture windows allow little privacy and nothing in the way of views. But at least the Town Center tried for some cool.

Speaking of cool, I KNOW that many of the readers of the Good Taste Chronicles are familiar with the Ballard Denny's. I've always wondered what it's story was - it doesn't look like any other Denny's I've ever seen, but I always thought it had started out life as some sort of Asian experience, but take a look at this:



If "Manning's in Ballard Buffet and Cafeteria" isn't the Ballard Denny's, I'm Whistler's Mother. But I suppose I should leave it up to the bowlers among us....

btw, For the life of me, I can't figure out what the difference between a "buffet" and a "cafeteria" is (from a restaurant standpoint) and I'll bet you the Manning's didn't either. They probably just thought putting the word "buffet" in the name gave the place a certain tone.....

Back when Fashion was Fashion.....

Here's some photos I found of the John Bishop Doyle women's clothing store in the 1950's. I wish that some stores that shall remain nameless (their initials are Nordstrom) would have taken a lesson from their forebearers on what Glamour is. But then again, I don't really think people - except for a very few, rarified people, who don't live in Seattle, and certainly don't shop at Nordstrom - would know how to handle themselves in a place like this, since we've become so casual as a society (which is not necessarily a bad thing). The only places in town that come even remotely close are St. John and Jerri Rice.

John Doyle Bishop morphed into Ruth Hill, which is now on the arcade level of the Olympic Hotel. I used to handle their trunk shows back in the day, but it was nowhere near as glam as this. At the time these pictures were taken, I believe they were in the Fifth Avenue Theatre building.

Anyway, I think these pictures speak for themselves. If I had a store, it would look just like this, and have Sylvia O. Stayformore as the hostess.

A Night on the Town!

I've been ripping off more images of Seattle from eBay (although I really don't think it's "ripping off" per se, and here's why: The sellers of these postcards don't own the images either, and since just about everything I post is of stuff that doesn't exist anymore, it's not theft. And even if it does still exist, it's still not the eBay seller's photo to control - just the specific postcard. How's that for tortured logic?)

Anyway, it's a shmorgasboard of fine dining today. Let's start with something called the "New Grove Restaurant"



I have no idea where the "New Grove" (let alone the "Old Grove") was, but doesn't it look lovely? Isn't that tree theatrical? Judging by the kimonos, this must have been an "Oriental" restaurant. That probably meant plates of Chop Suey, strong cocktails and "supper dancing" (with music provided by someone playing the organ)

If you ask me, that old man in the bottom left hand corner is MUCH too old for that girl with the flower in her hair. And she looks like she knows it.

But let's go over to the Bush Garden, shall we?



OK, the Bush Garden still exists. They have a FABULOUS Kareoke night which consists entirely of Black ladies belting out R&B songs and Asian ladies who sing songs in some Asian language. (I was there on a guest visa.)

Judging from the sideburns and Marsha Brady hair, this picture was taken sometime in the 70's. That probably meant Egg Fu Yung and strong drinks, with disco dancing down the street at Shelly's Leg.

Want something a little classier bust still kind of Oriental? Let's head out Aurora to Canlis!



Canlis is still there, and just as glamorous as ever. Years and years and years ago, the Chandelierier took me there for my birthday, and it was Classy with a capitol C.

Back when this photo was taken (probably the early 1960's)it was a Canlis Salad, a big juicy steak, cheescake for dessert, and strong drinks. No dancing. An evening at Canlis is an evening on it's own.

Tired of the Oriental Influence? Fine. Let's go to the Norselander.



Seattle has a strong nordic influence, but it's dying off quickly. I don't think the cuisine had anything to do with that, however. (But I admit I can't get too excited about Nordic seafood dishes. I just can't get beyond the luketefisk) But at least you could take refuge in the Viking Room.

Well, we've had quite and evening, haven't we? But I'm not ready to go home just yet. Let's head back downtown for a nightcap at the Lanai Room at the Roosevelt Hotel.



These people seem have ordered the traditional "Surf & Turf" entree (Steak and Seafood). From the way the blonde is clutching what seems to be her cocktail or wine glass, I would say she's not having a particularly good time. But that might just be a water glass, or she could just be nervous, what with those fountains and everything. After all, she'd gotten her hair done just for that date, and the beauty parlor isn't cheap. She's hoping to get her set to last the week.

Anyway, we've had quite an evening out, haven't we? Time to get in the car, loosen the belt (or the girdle) and head home, preferably listening to a "beautiful music" station. God, I hope we've got some Alka-Seltzer at home....

Mental Rearranging

I have nothing against progress. Really, I don't. I don't, I don't, I don't. For instance, I like the Pacific Place Mall in downtown Seattle just fine, and sometimes it's a real struggle to get me out of the bar at the Hyatt. Yes, progress is A-OK in my book.

With that said, however, I do have a favorite mental past time, and that is rearranging buildings downtown.

Take the Seattle Westin. Adorable. Essential to the local tourism economy. Lovely big windows for the lovely big views. But if Seattle were my own personal building block city, I'd move that thing over a block - east or west, doesn't matter - so that we could still have the Orpheum Theatre and the Ben Franklin Hotel. These two fine, handsome structures were sacrificed for this buidling. The buildings on either side of the Westin, OTOH, are just nothing, and it would have been better to have gotten rid of those.

But the one place that just continues to irk me, mostly because if it could have held on just a few more years it would have been OK, is Westlake.

Westlake is the heart of the downtown retail district. It's a big open space with bland public art, a street running through it, and a horrible mall/office complex. It's just like something that Seattle would have come up with in the 80's, which - coincidentally enough - is when they did it.

Here's an uninspired photo of what it looks like today:



But HERE's what it looked like from the 60's until just about a year after I moved here.



This is, in my opinion, a much more interesting place. It had a gritty sort of feel, what with the monorail and all, that was kind of like Time Square in New York. (without the tranvestite prostitutes)

Let's take a closer look at that monorail plaza area, shall we?



The businesses were all those weird, independent, pre Cheescake Factory or TGIF's type places. Like the fabulous Ben Paris.....



Isn't that all fun and grown-up looking?

The city fathers, of course, couldn't have that sort of untidiness, and having the monorail not going into a food court was just killing them, so they tore all of that down, and put up that bland Westlake Park, and now it is basically just a place for the homeless to sit in and look slightly more attractive than they did when they used to sit under the old monorail station.

Ah, progres......

Pearl Bailey Break

Nothing like a little Pearl Bailey to brighten up your day.

Join me in Hong Kong?

Back when the editorial offices of Today's World were located in Pioneer Square, I would walk home through the International Distric (Seattle's PC name for Chinatown) My route took me past an abandoned restaurant named "Hong Kong" that always mystified me: The whole place reeked of that sort of 40's noir atmosphere, even though the decor - from what I could see of it - was pure 60's. One of the display windows had a champagne bottle in it, which tells me that the closing was rather abrupt.

Recently, some postcards for Hong Kong showed up on eBay, and I am posting them here. It gives you and idea of the pure glam that was Hong Kong, which was typical of Asian restaurants of that time.



While you can practically smell the MSG in the above pictures, you can also taste the Mai Tais and feel the chopsticks.

While some of today's Asian restaurants have fun decors, too many of them are sterile, flourescent lit storefronts that remind you of styrofoam and canned soda. The food is usually good, but it's nothing like Hong Kong.

Of course, Hong Kong might very well have been the Wild Ginger of it's day. I have no idea.

Anybody know anything about the life and death of Seattle's Hong Kong Restaurant?

All Aboard for Fabulousness!!!

We've been having some range issues at Chez Vel-DuRay, so last night The Colonel, The Greek and I went to dinner at one of my favorite places - Andy's Diner!

(I know what you're doing: You're rolling your eyes and thinking "Sheesh. Her and her trains" Well, stop it. Yes, Andy's diner is very railroad-centric, but it is also quite cool.)

For those of you who don't know it, Andy's has been on Fourth Avenue South (just down from the Elephant Car Wash) since 1949. It consists of several OLD (and I mean OLD) rail cars, set up for dining and drinking, as well as an old-fashioned lunch counter.

The food is not bad. Nothing to write home about, but not bad, and the prices aren't bad either. The fun, of course, is in the ambiance. The "Sidetrack Room" (the bar) is like many of the long-gone and much-missed bars of Seattle (the old Jewel's May, Kettel's, Doghouse, Cloud Room, Gold Coin): dumpy, frumpy and sparsely populated with people who look like they've been sitting there since 1973.

But that's just the trouble: The sparse population. Unless I'm missing something, Andy's doesn't get much business, and that is a shame. We all know what lack of business leads to, and we would hate to see that happen.

So, dear readers, I think we should have a Good Taste Chronicles "Meet 'n Greet" in the Sidetrack room, or maybe even a "dinner in the diner". Some Friday we can all gather in the Sidetrack Room, heft a few and head into one of the Dining Rooms for an evening of mediocre food. It would be just like Omaha in the 70's, when my parents and several other couples had a weekly "supper club"

What do you think?

..and they say Amtrak is a waste of money????

I know I promised you a piece on taste, but this one is just too funny. I'll try very hard from crossing over into the gross, but it will be difficult.

the folks over at www.waynemadsenreport.com have discovered that when the President went to Europe recently, he took a powder room with him. He used this powder room exclusively, and whatever he left behind there (if you catch my drift) was sent back to the United States for destruction.

One can only wonder why we are being so private about our presidential discards. While one part of me thinks that perhaps they are worried about someone finding evidence of drug or alcohol use, there is always the distinct possiblity that our leader could share the feelings that many toddlers have: that that their "accomplishment" is something that must be jealously guarded, and proudly displayed to selected adults. One can only imagine Laura, Condi and Dick being summoned to the special presidential porta-potty and.... well, let's not dwell on that, shall we?

If Jon Carlson hates it, it must be good....

(John Carlson, local conservative twit, trying to compensate for what is undoubtedly a subnormal penis)

UPDATE: I forgot to link to the story about the new facility.

Even here in liberal Seattle, we have the local conservatives. One of the most obnoxious is Jon Carlson - a blowhard's blowhard. He hosts a daily radio talk show (or so I'm told. I would never listen to something that vulgar)

Miss Carlson has got her hair-do in a muss (yes, that's such a gay thing to say, but people like Carlson deserve it) over the latest Seattle experiment: A home for chronic street drunks.

My interest in this as a potential retirement community aside, I think it's a great idea. It's a place for the old drunks that have tried rehab and failed. The men and women you see stumbling around asking for money, who live on the street and die on the street.

These people are people too, and putting them in a place where they have a roof over their head and some medical attention is much better - and much less expensive - than the old way of hauling them to the emergency room when they fall down or get rolled or collapse from the various ailments chronic drunks tend to collapse from. It's also the humane thing to do, but boneheads like Carlson don't know from humane. They're too busy being Christian.

Anyway, it's the sort of thing that makes one proud to be a Seattlite. I'll stop my liberal posturing now, and come back in a little bit with some sort of tirade on dust mops or something

Why I hate divided vegetable dishes

In the grand scheme of things - and actually, in the small scheme of things - this really doesn't matter, but that never stops us here at The Good Taste Chronicles. When we have something we want to talk about, we talk about it, by gum!

And this is today's topic: Why I hate divided vegetable dishes.

These were always part of vintage china sets. The are basically a perfectly good dish that is divided into two sections. Very inoffensive on the surface, but when you think about it, it means you have to cook TWO vegetables, and then you have to plate them up without any spillover.

I don't know about you, but when I entertain, things get kind of hectic, and the last thing I want to worry about is that second vegetable. But you can't just put out a vegetable dish with only one compartment full, and filling both of them with the same vegetable just looks slovenly, don't you think?

So anyway, that's one of life's little frustrations, and it seems we're stuck with it. So just double up on your canned vegetables, swallow hard, and put on your prettiest face when carrying this thing to the table.

Happpy Independence Day!

Dear Readers, I know that you are doubtless out doing things today. In my mind's eye, I see you all in natty little outfits, bearing lovely platters of devilled eggs to tree-shaded picnics, enjoying cold Rainier Beers while listening to cunny little transistor radios, and Oooing and Ahhing (in polite, well-modulated tones) to a civic fireworks display. One sponsored by perhaps the Elks, or even the Variety Club.

But the work never ends here at danlangdon.com. While we have a rather important social affair this evening, I did want to fire off some independence day greetings to you, and update you on the internet neutrality issue.

As usual, nothing has really happenned - except that a Senator from Alaska has given such a stirring, imaginitive description of the workings of the internet that I just had to share it with you.

Apparently, Senator Stevens (a Republican, as if you couldn't guess) likens the internet to a a series of tubes that send you delicious tidbits (like advertisements for Hand Cream and military recruitment information) and horrible, web-snarling oddities (like The Good Taste Chronicles or danlangdon.com .)

Apparently, the internet is one big electronic Pneumatic Tube System!

(This is a picture of our dear mother, Catalina Vel-DuRay at one of her earliest jobs, running the Pneumatic Tube System at the Grand Illusion Girdle Company in Toledo Ohio. As with all jobs Catalina has had, she left under a cloud of scandal after it was discovered that she was having an affair with the president of the company)

Pneumatic tube systems were quite in vogue back in the day. Department stores used them so that the salespeople wouldn't have to have cash registers: They'd write up a sales slip, and send the slip, along with the customer's money or "charge plate" to a central room where the sale would be recorded and change sent back. They were really quite fun, and we at danlangdon.com miss them dearly. That's why it was so refreshing to find out that the internet is really just a big, big version of that!

(That was heavy sarcasm, of course - the internet is nothing like a pneumatic tube system, but such people as Senator Stevens really do need to be treated with scorn.)

Anywhoozle, you Alaska readers really should send Senator Stevens (who is also the guy that had that bridge to nowhere built up in some hellhole, and had it called the "Ted Stevens Bridge" or something) an "internets" and let him know what you think.

But not until you've finished all of those Devilled Eggs!!!

A Timely Message

Bea and Rock weigh in on the Drug Wars.

Sprint dachshund commercial

How can you not like this?