The LLama Butchers

July 18, 2008

Tempus Fugit

It seems like just yesterday that I was changing the eldest Llama-ette's diapers. And yet she just left a few minutes ago to start her first paying gig as a mother's helper for a family up the street from us.

I suppose it's going to be learner's permits, college applications and wedding plans before I know what's what.

Yikes.

Posted by: Robert at 09:01 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Summah-time And The Lunching Is Groovy

Yesterday I got the chance to meet Groovy Vic and her family as they visited Your Nation's Capital for the first (and, from what I understand from them, possibly the last time).

In accordance with Vic's son's consuming desire to see the dinosaurs, we agreed to meet outside the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History. As I predicted earlier in the week when commenting about the relatively pleasant weather we've been having, Heat Miser had thrown his machinery into high gear, producing a mind-numbing combination of heat n' humidity. I was quite concerned that the weather, coupled with the fact that the Natural History Museum is Touron Central, would bring out the worst of my misanthropic streak and cause me to make a rayther bad first impression. Thus, when I spoke to Vic to arrange our meet, I tried to assure her that although I would look like I was scowling, in fact I was just squinting because I'm near-sighted. I'm not sure that she believed me.

Because it was convenient, we grabbed a table at the museum's food court and had a nice chin-wag. As has been my almost uniform experience of other bloggers that I've met in real life, Vic is really no different in person than she is on the inter-tubes: a fiery but no-nonsense red-head. (Sooper-sekret note to ex-Swooner Dreamboat Ewan McGregor: Dude, you're out. And you're never getting back in. No, not even if you dress up as Col. Strong Vincent.) Vic's husband Dan is a nice guy who also has that air I've seen of other blogger's spouses of tolerantly smiling and shaking his head at this whole realm of imaginary friends we seem to inhabit. Boy Child and Girl Child were remarkably well behaved and polite, particularly given the circumstances. (When I asked Vic what her secret to success was, she said regular beatings and military discipline.) Indeed, I felt a bit bad because Girl Child in particular kept piping up to tell me about things. However, she was so soft-spoken and the room was so noisy that I couldn't understand about 85% of what she was saying, and found myself responding with nothing more than a nod and what I hope was an encouraging smile. Either she was gratified or else she came to the conclusion that I was a moron.

In short, however, I believe a good time was had by all.

Posted by: Robert at 08:47 AM | Comments (22) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

July 17, 2008

Let Them Eat Carbon Credits

Oooooh, I luv it when Limousine Liberals get hoist with their own petards:

Heh, indeed. Yips! to Dr. Rusty's Good Lieutenant.

Posted by: Robert at 10:26 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Sign Of The Times?

I don't known when or where this pic was snapped, but apparently the Surrender Now! crowd is in such dire straits these days that it's been forced to start selling vowels in order to keep going.

stoopidprotesters.jpg

Yips! to Mrs. P for tossing this one in the Tasty Bits (TM) Mail Sack.

Posted by: Robert at 04:11 PM | Comments (19) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

"The Father of English Hymnody"

Watts.jpg

Happy Birthday, Isaac Watts. Born this day in 1674, Watts wrote something in the neighborhood of 600 hymns, many of which are still in the book. From my personal experience, they are uniformly sublime.

Because my addled mind works the way it does, I can never hear or read Watts' name without thinking of an incident of the Battle of Springfield, NJ in 1780, tattooed on my brain in my yoot:

Give Em Watts.jpg

British and Hessian forces launched a two-pronged attack along Vauxhall Road and Galloping Hill Road. American forces were entrenched at the Rahway River crossings in anticipation of both the attacks and held their ground. Units of the attackers crossed the river elsewhere and attempted flanking maneuvers toward the town center of Springfield and the foot of the Short Hills. American forces in reserve repelled the attacks. American reserves held in hills ahead, and Knyphausen's forces retreated.

Fighting was short and fierce; at one time the British launched five attacks in the span of 40 minutes. When retreating, British forces set fire to the village, burning down all but four buildings, including the 1st Presbyterian Church of Springfield. American forces and militia continued to harass British forces during their retreat, possibly expediting the full withdrawal to Staten Island.

According to legend, Reverend James Caldwell [whose wife had been killed earlier during a British raid on what is now Union Township], chaplain of Jonathan Dayton's regiment, passed out pages from the Watts hymnal book to be used as wadding. The battle cry "Give 'em Watts, boys" was apparently coined from this incident.

The Church Militant, indeed.

Posted by: Robert at 09:30 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Gratuitous Llama Fan-Appreciation Shout-Out

I am hoping to meet Groovy Vic and her family for lunch today. (They are in Your Nation's Capital doing the touron thing this week.)

As we spoke this morning, Vic mentioned her friend the Ultimate Driving Machine, a regular Llama reader but, apparently, a lurker, who had very kind things to say about us.

Well, UDM, thankee kindly indeed! (But speak up!!!) And this one's for you:

Yip! Yip! Yip!

Posted by: Robert at 09:01 AM | Comments (22) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Gratuitous Llama Netflix Movie Review

BankJob.jpg

Last evening the Missus and I sat down to watch The Bank Job.

For those of you who don't know, the story - supposedly based on a real incident - is set in the early 70's. A black radical and drug-running London slum lord self-named Michael X (after Malcolm X, which puts me in mind of the recent story about the young lady who raised her hand in history class and innocently asked who Malcolm the Tenth was), manages to get an envelope full of extremely compromising photos of HRH the Dummy Princess Margaret,*** ah, frolicking in the Caribbean. HM Government are not amused, so MI-5 (or MI-6) arrange for a group of Timson-like minor villains *** to burgle the vault of the Lloyds branch where Michael has stashed his pics in a safe-deposit box. The trouble is that also kept in this vault (and also taken by the crew) are the records of a Dinsdale Piranha-like*** porn king, who specializes in paying off coppers to look the other way, plus a Madam whose clientele include a number of MP's and other Very Important Persons, many of whom seem to prefer their entertainment to be, em, creative. Suspense and mayhem ensue as our plucky thieves - who are just ordinary blokes - realize what they've stumbled into.

All clear?

Oh, there's also a weakish sub-plot about a lady MI-5 agent who gets herself into Michael X's posse, the better to try and spy on him from the inside. I think this was added simply because it was her murder at Michael's hands that eventually got him run up at the yardarm.

When I first saw the previews for this film, I said of Jason Statham, who plays Terry Leather - the main bank thief and hero of the film - "You know, that guy looks like Handsome Rob."

My friend dope-slapped me and replied, "Idiot, that is Handsome Rob."

I mention this because given that, I thought this film was going to have considerably more car chases and witty banter than it did. So much for preconceived notions: In fact, what action there is is extremely low-tech and fairly low-key. Also, the film is too dark and grubby for much joking. Instead, its strength lies in its suspense and in the rayther complicated way in which all the pieces of the puzzle, i.e., the various forces with an interest in the business, fall into place.

Actually, what I liked best about the film was the cast. Stratham's got a good look about him - sort of a younger, leaner, Cockney Bruce Willis. Meanwhile, Richard Lintern, a fellah I'd never heard of who plays the MI-5 (or possibly MI-6) agent running the job, looks surprisingly like Sean Connery in his yout, only more handsome. And imagine my surprise to see Peter Bowles, of all people, as the smarmy, sinister head of MI-5 (or possibly MI-6)! I haven't clapped eyes on him since his Rumpole/Irish RM/To The Manor Born days ( which I'm sure our younger readers won't remember) and still think of him as affable and vaguely incompetent. Nifty bit of casting against type here. Oh, and the Dinsdale Piranha fellah is played wonderfully by David Souchet - who I still think of as Poirot, but who I've seen play eeeevil before when he went up against Kurt Russell (and, of course, lost).

Then, of course, there is the very lovely and talented Saffron Burrows who plays Martine Love, the go-between, er, between MI-5 (or MI-6) and Terry:

saffron.png

Mmmmmmmm...........

Mom recently asked why we Llamas don't drool over some of the older actresses out there. (I believe she cited Julianne Moore as an example). Well, Saffron's not all that especially old (mid-30's), but she looks older than she is - and I mean that as a compliment. (I've noticed that as I get older myself, I am more attracted to the experienced and sophisticated instead of the fresh-faced and naive. In this, I'm reminded of that passage from The Pirates of Penzance:

Frederick: A lad of twenty-one usually looks for a wife of seventeen.

Ruth: A wife of seventeen? You will find me a wife of a thousand!

Frederick: No, but I shall find you a wife of forty-seven and that is quite enough.

But I digress.)

I had a vague idea I had seen Miss Burrows before, but it wasn't until this morning that I remembered the last time was when she and Samuel L. Jackson were battling sooper-intelligent sharks in a sunken sea-laboratory, which battle of course required that she strip down to her undies. So experienced? Yes. Sophisticated? Gawd!

Robbo's Recommendation: All in all, not bad, but I don't think I'd bother with it again. Say three Yips! out of five.

***Lots of quotes to spot.

Posted by: Robert at 07:51 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

It's Time, Indeed

Of course, this extremely excellent vid has been half-way across the galaxy and back already in the past 24 hours, but I post it here anyway a) because I'm sure Mom hasn't seen it yet and believe she would like it, and b) because the bit with teh Ahnold at the end makes me laugh more every time I see it.

Posted by: Robert at 07:32 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

July 16, 2008

Irrefutable Proof

That you can find ANYTHING on YouTube.

I watched this video maybe twice on MTV in the Eighties and it made such an indelible mental scar that I remembered it.

I searched it. And...yes...it came right up.

Posted by: Gary at 05:18 PM | Comments (25) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Happy Birthday, Sir Joshua Reynolds!***

One of Britain's greatest portrait painters, Reynolds was born this day in 1723.

I love Reynolds' portrature for two reasons. First, he is rightly recognized for his highly stylized treatments, bringing out the true character of the sitter, as it were. As this article from the UK Telegraph puts it,

[H]e pays his sitter the compliment of showing him as he really looked, and so makes the nobility of his demeanour all the more believable. Until Reynolds, portraiture had been a branch of painting taken for granted by English artists and patrons. It was his capacity to take portraiture seriously, to treat it as a genre worthy of a great artist, that broke this mould.

'Zactly so. However, I think I appreciate this even more because of the actual subjects he portrayed, the last quarter of the 18th Century in Britain being perhaps my very favorite time and place in history. Here are just a few samples:

First is Sir Joseph Banks, the great naturalist, traveller and patron of science:

Reynolds Banks.jpg

Here again is Samuel "Dictionary" Johnson, writer, linguist, arbiter, professional crank:

Reynolds Johnson.jpg

Among Reynolds' many, many portraits of fashionable ladies, we have Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire:

Reynolds Georgiana.jpg

Who was she, you ask? Well, she was a Hollywood superstar of her age, a political hostess and society queen. She was also a Spencer, the distant aunt of Princess Diana. And like Diana, she was mad as a coot, especially when it came to relationships with men.

Finally, for you military buffs, we have (then) Lt. Col. Banastre "Bloody" Tarleton, the scourge of the American Continental Army:

Reynolds Tarleton.jpg

Just from my thumbnail tag lines, I believe you can get a sense of the way Reynolds treated each of his subjects: scientist, critic, fashionable lady, dashing cavalryman, and yet each easily recognizable as specific individuals, not just types.

As to why I love late 18th Century Britain, well, that's perhaps an essay for when I'm feeling more rested and can give the question some deeper treatment. Suffice to say for the moment that this was one of those times and places in history in which the various social and economic forces came into an exquisite balance, the ancien regime still in place, but mellowed, modified and refreshed by a healthy injection of bourgeois energy and industry, producing between them a cultural sensibility that looked both forward and backward.

***Yes, this is the same post I did last year. But I happen to be quite pleased with it, so I see nothing wrong with using it again.

Posted by: Robert at 10:12 AM | Comments (17) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Venimus, Vidimus, Vi-Vooped-Ass

Michael Yon says the war in Iraq is effectively over. And guess what? WE WON:

The war continues to abate in Iraq. Violence is still present, but, of course, Iraq was a relatively violent place long before Coalition forces moved in. I would go so far as to say that barring any major and unexpected developments (like an Israeli air strike on Iran and the retaliations that would follow), a fair-minded person could say with reasonable certainty that the war has ended. A new and better nation is growing legs. What's left is messy politics that likely will be punctuated by low-level violence and the occasional spectacular attack. Yet, the will of the Iraqi people has changed, and the Iraqi military has dramatically improved, so those spectacular attacks are diminishing along with the regular violence. Now it's time to rebuild the country, and create a pluralistic, stable and peaceful Iraq. That will be long, hard work. But by my estimation, the Iraq War is over. We won. Which means the Iraqi people won.

I think that in celebration, at some point "Okinawa Jack" Murtha and the rest of the Copperhead-Fedayeen ought to be frog-marched down Main St. in Bagdad in order to receive "thanks" from the Iraqi people for all of their "support".

Yon is much gloomier about the current prospects in Afghanistan:

I wish I could say the same for Afghanistan. But that war we clearly are losing: I am preparing to go there and see the situation for myself. My friends and contacts who have a good understanding of Afghanistan are, to a man, pessimistic about the current situation. Interestingly, however, every one of them believes that Afghanistan can be turned into a success. They all say we need to change our approach, but in the long-term Afghanistan can stand on its own. The sources range from four-stars to civilians from the United States, Great Britain and other places. A couple years ago, some of these sources believed that defeat was imminent in Iraq. They were nearly right about Iraq, although some of them knew far less about Iraq than they do about Afghanistan. But it's clear that hard days are ahead in Afghanistan. We just lost nine of our soldiers in a single firefight, where the enemy entered a base and nearly overran it.

I believe that by "we need to change our approach", Yon's sources mean "we need to start crossing into Pakistan and beating the crap out of the bad guys there." And my impression, formed more by nooz-osmosis than anything else, is that we're getting ready to do just that little thing.

Yips! to Dr. Rusty and his Anteater.

BTW, I'd be very curious to read the LMC's take on all this, especially given that he's a real, live, professional soldier and I don't even play one on teevee.

Posted by: Robert at 09:17 AM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Well Done, Mr. President

Evidently Dubya read my post a few days back about Sen. Warner's proposal to reinstate the national 55 MPH speed limit in order to save fuel costs, because when offered a cup of guvmint-conservation-mandate kool-aid by an AP reporter yesterday, he threw it right back in the guy's face.

Yips! to Ace's Dave in Texas.

Posted by: Robert at 08:45 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Beating everyone else to it

let me be the first to observe here that today is Phoebe's day, so say "happy birthday" to her:

Flixster - Share Movies

Posted by: LMC at 05:57 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

July 15, 2008

Whoa. Good Blog.

I haven't the faintest idea what it means, and I haven't even been able to dial in properly, but Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is freakin' shiny.

Did I mention that Joss Wheden and I were classmates in college? Not that either one of us would have recognized the other had we tripped over each other....but there it is, nonetheless.

Original Yips! to Sleepy Beth, with an assist to Lintenfiniel Jen.

Posted by: Robert at 09:29 PM | Comments (19) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Gratuitous Musickal Observation

Right now the local classickal station is playing a recording of the Overture from Bach's Orchestral Suite No. 4 by a group called La Stravaganza under the direction of Andrew Manze. For some reason, they are performing sans trumpets or drum.

I suppose it can be done this way, but it sure sounds rayther odd.

UPDATE: Over at the devil's website, a reviewer remarks about this:

Manze has been active as a musicologist in examining the sources and has the fourth suite played here without trumpets and timpani, which, in his opinion, were only added later and could not have been part of the original K�then score [i.e., where the four orchestral suites were first published around 1720]. Of course one misses the ceremonial sound at first, but if one listens closely, one can come to the conclusion that Manze is right: the "antiphonal" effect of a "choir" of oboes opposite a "choir" of strings is not obscured by the trumpets, which by their very nature are not in a position to play much more than the tonic and the dominant chords.

Not being a musicologist myself, again I really don't know why trumpet and timpani could not have been part of the original score, nor who would have added them later. But IMHO, even though the trumpets are confined to a relatively simple notational value, they provide a kind of emphatic framework that nicely highlights and caps off various sections of the work.

UPDATE DEUX: The radio's moved on to one of teh umpteen zillion Fantasies on themes from Carmen, this one by Francois Borne. I'm ashamed to admit that I rayther enjoy Carmen and its progeny. It certainly ain't Mozart, but it is kinda fun.

UPDATE TROIS: Speaking of Carmen, show of hands for all of you who remember this classic Sesame Street bit:

Posted by: Robert at 03:17 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Eyup...Can't Get Theyah From Heyah.

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(Seen all over the intertubes and forwarded to us about every two weeks or so.)

Regular readers will recall that a few days back I blegged about cargo carriers that I might attach to the Llama-mobile for our trip up to Maine this year, the better to bring back booty. (Thankee again, btw, for your suggestions.)

Well, since then I've done a goodish bit of research on line into both cargo bags and boxes, as well as into trailers. And the truth of the matter is that by the time you get through not only buying the container, but also all the straps and equipment you need to lash it to the top or back of your car, it gets awfully, awfully expensive.

So it looks like we're going to Plan B: Pack light. Only bring back what will fit. Ship what can be shipped. Ignore the rest.

Posted by: Robert at 02:29 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Mass Appeal

This past Sunday I attended a High Mass in which, at least for the first time since I've been at my church, the Ordinary was sung not by the crackerjack choir to the strains of Palestrina or some other master of polyphony, but instead in plainsong by the congregation (albeit led by a handful of choir members).

I felt exactly like Lt. Frank Drebin trying to pass himself off as Enrico Pallazzo. This was especially embarrassing given the fact that the eldest Llama-ette insisted on tagging along and I had been lavishly praising the musick ahead of time.

I'm curious (and I ask here because I would feel too sheepish asking one of the priests in person) as to whether there is some particular liturgical reason for or implication in this switch, or whether it's more likely just a matter of parish mechanics (i.e., the choir gets a break).

SHAMEFACED MORON UPDATE: Of course, the more I think about it, the more idiotic my question seems. Heck, the choir at RFEC disappears on a regular basis during the summer months (during which anyone can show up on a given Sunday and cover for them), why the heck shouldn't it be the same at RRCC?

I suppose my rook status is still showing - I assume that there is Some Significance to every single permutation of the Mass and find it hard to grasp that choir members are people, too.

Posted by: Robert at 01:40 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

This Mom Needs A Parent-ectomy STAT!

Kid-sickness strikes camper parents:

CHICAGO, Illinois (AP) -- Eve Pidgeon watched the large group of kids, many of them laughing and chatting excitedly as they boarded a bus for summer sleepaway camp last summer.

"They just couldn't wait," says Pidgeon, whose 8-year-old daughter, Zoe, was among the young campers.

Then Pidgeon looked around and noticed something else: "There were no children crying -- just parents."

These days, camp leaders and family counselors say it's an increasingly common dynamic. It used to be the homesick kid begging to come home from camp. While that still happens, they've noticed that it's often parents who have more trouble letting go.

They call it "kid-sickness," a condition attributed in large part to today's more involved style of parenting. Observers also say it's only being exacerbated by our ability to be in constant contact by cell phone and computer, as well as many parents' perception that the world is a more dangerous place.

For leaders at many camps, it's meant that dealing with parents has become a huge part of their jobs.

"The time and energy camp directors put into preparing parents for camp is now equal to the time they prepare children for camp," says Peg Smith, head of the American Camp Association, which works with about 2,600 camps nationwide.

Refreshingly, the article seems to side with those who believe Mom & Dad ought just to unclench:

Bob Ditter, a therapist who works with children, adolescents and families in Boston, Massachusetts, has acted as a consultant to camps since the early 1980s and says he hears stories like those all the time.

He says there's something to be said for a parent who cares, but not to the point of becoming a "helicopter parent," a term used for parents who constantly hover over their children, stepping in to monitor their choices and solve their problems, even into adult life.

At Camp Arowhan in northern Ontario, Canada, they call it a "parent-ectomy." As is standard policy at many camps, director Joanne Kates doesn't allow her campers to phone, fax or e-mail their parents. They can, however, use a private service that contracts with the camp to exchange handwritten messages, which are scanned and sent throughout the week.

But she's clear with parents that they have to allow the camp staff to deal with most issues, including homesickness and conflicts between campers.

"Sending your child away to summer camp requires a terrifying leap of faith," says Kates, who estimates that she easily deals with "10 times" as many phone calls from worried and sometimes meddling parents as she did a decade ago. She saw a particular shift after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.

Child psychologist Dan Kindlon has noticed the heightened anxiety when touring the country to speak to parents. He says the large majority raise their hands when asked if they think the world is a more dangerous place than it was 20 years ago.

He questions whether that's really true, and wonders if we are unnecessarily creating a generation of overanxious children.

I tell you truly that with more and more articles like this coming along, I really have hopes that the pendulum is starting to swing back away from the helicopter-parent syndrome.

All I know from our first experience of sleepaway camp this year is a) the counselors were very firm about shooshing parents away as quickly as possible and b) both Llama-ettes are eager to return next summah.

As for the Missus and me, yes, it was a bit of a wrench to drop off the Llama-ettes and yes, we wrote them a fair number of letters - especially given as this was their first time - but I don't think either one of us went overboard fretting about them while they were away. And both the Llama-ettes said they were generally too busy to give much thought to missing us while they were there.

Posted by: Robert at 01:25 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Random Lunchtime Observation

Occasionally, I wander down to the nearest Cosi for lunch, there to get myself a salad so I can feel both healthy and ever-so-slightly smug.

My particular franchise is decorated with, among other things, several ginormous head-shot portraits of Jack Nicholson, done in bold lines and drab colours that, for whatever reason, somehow always put me in mind of Francisco Franco. One portrait is a side-profile, but the other is a full frontal, complete with detailed eyebrows, rumpled hair and a very large ceegar hanging out of Jack's clenched jaw.

Every time I go in, I ponder the possible reasons behind these paintings, but so far I am stumped. They certainly are not appetizing, in any event.

Posted by: Robert at 12:18 PM | Comments (17) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Because Every Day Should Be Diane Lane Day

Actually, since all those nice photo tributes to the Lovely One on my old site are now kaput...

casual.jpg

What better reason to reinvent the wheel?

Posted by: Gary at 10:37 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

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