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postgoodism that most people do not play online multiplayer shootemup games with a cat on one knee and a Rock Band microphone propped up on the other. I don't see why not. Besides, all I ever say is "Shit!"
dark_of_night and I finally tried the torta ahogada at Tortuga Bay, now that Jonathan Gold has given the sandwich his imprimatur. A pork sandwich drenched in extremely spicy sauce. A little difficult to eat with knife and fork - maybe next time just roll up the sleeves and get messy with it. Our choices for sauce were 'hot' and 'really hot'. We went with really hot, and if it had been a leeeetle hotter, it would've been too hot, even for us.
Along similar lines we made some pizza last week, and one of the toppings was a sliced habanero from the yard.
Murder Party was not only surprisingly good, it was a good film period.
Nearly finished Pynchon's Mason & Dixon. I'm confused. The overarching narrative is a history of the surveying exploits of the titular dudes, mostly as told by an unreliable narrator who confabulates from time to time. Though sometimes it's clearly Pynchon who's confabulating. I think we can blame Cryptonomicon and the Baroque Cycle on Mason & Dixon. Anyway, some interesting vignettes, interesting history, but ultimately not very satisfying.
One of the historical details that caught my eye was the Paxton Boys, "a vigilante group that murdered at least twenty Native Americans in events sometimes called the Conestoga Massacre ... Since the nearest belligerents were miles away, the Paxton Boys attacked the local Conestoga or Susquehannock people, who lived peacefully in nearby small enclaves in the midst of near white Pennsylvania settlements."
My paternal ancestors were living in Lancaster at the time.
I've SEEN the future. Do you know what it is? It's a 47-year-old virgin sitting around in his beige pajamas, drinking a banana-broccoli shake, singing "I'm an Oscar Meyer Wiener".
Let's add: with a sex robot. I know, I know, you've heard about it already.
postgoodism that most people do not play online multiplayer shootemup games with a cat on one knee and a Rock Band microphone propped up on the other. I don't see why not. Besides, all I ever say is "Shit!"dark_of_night and I finally tried the torta ahogada at Tortuga Bay, now that Jonathan Gold has given the sandwich his imprimatur. A pork sandwich drenched in extremely spicy sauce. A little difficult to eat with knife and fork - maybe next time just roll up the sleeves and get messy with it. Our choices for sauce were 'hot' and 'really hot'. We went with really hot, and if it had been a leeeetle hotter, it would've been too hot, even for us.Along similar lines we made some pizza last week, and one of the toppings was a sliced habanero from the yard.
Murder Party was not only surprisingly good, it was a good film period.
Nearly finished Pynchon's Mason & Dixon. I'm confused. The overarching narrative is a history of the surveying exploits of the titular dudes, mostly as told by an unreliable narrator who confabulates from time to time. Though sometimes it's clearly Pynchon who's confabulating. I think we can blame Cryptonomicon and the Baroque Cycle on Mason & Dixon. Anyway, some interesting vignettes, interesting history, but ultimately not very satisfying.
One of the historical details that caught my eye was the Paxton Boys, "a vigilante group that murdered at least twenty Native Americans in events sometimes called the Conestoga Massacre ... Since the nearest belligerents were miles away, the Paxton Boys attacked the local Conestoga or Susquehannock people, who lived peacefully in nearby small enclaves in the midst of near white Pennsylvania settlements."
On December 14, 1763, Governor John Penn placed the remaining fourteen Conestogas in protective custody in Lancaster, but the Paxton Boys broke in, killed, and mutilated all fourteen people on December 27, 1763. The result was that just two members of the Conestoga tribe survived. Governor Penn issued bounties for the arrest of the murderers, but no one came forward to identify them.
My paternal ancestors were living in Lancaster at the time.
I've SEEN the future. Do you know what it is? It's a 47-year-old virgin sitting around in his beige pajamas, drinking a banana-broccoli shake, singing "I'm an Oscar Meyer Wiener".
Let's add: with a sex robot. I know, I know, you've heard about it already.
