A Hoax of Amazing Audacity

Yesterday, the last survivor of the trenches of World War I passed away at the age of 111. The BBC has some of his recollections up here

"I had a brother who was a regular soldier. He was in Africa when the war broke out. He was a sergeant major in the Royal Engineers, who fought and was wounded at Mons. And they kept him in England after that, as an instructor. He never went back and he used to tell me what the trenches were like. I didn’t want to go. I knew what I was going to. A lot of people didn’t and when they got to France they had a rude awakening."

I'll be hunting down a copy of his book, The Last Fighting Tommy.

Rest in peace, Mr. Patch.

I have discovered that I have a tremendous fondness for the movie reviews of Roger Ebert.

I think it's the third one. Anyway.

Chicken Breasts on a George Foreman Grill

1) Purchase some chicken breasts.

2) Giggle the whole way home from the store.

3) Turn on the George Foreman grill. Leave kitchen.

4) Whenever you happen to remember, return to the kitchen. The Foreman will be hot by now.

5) Slap a chicken breast on the Foreman. Close the Foreman.

6) Wait a bit.

7) Open the Foreman. The chicken breast will be clearly undercooked because you are impatient. Close the Foreman.

8) Wait a bit, but more so this time.

9) Open the Foreman. This time the chicken breast will not be clearly undercooked. Use a fork and knife to hack open the middle and peer inside. Due to heat distortion, bubblin' juices, and the fact that you suddenly can remember neither what cooked nor uncooked chicken looks like, you will have no idea whether it is done or not. Close the Foreman.

10) Wait until the minutes digit on the oven clock changes, regardless of how long this takes.

11) Open the Foreman and slide your chicken breast onto the plate that's been catching the greases. You did put a plate in front of the Foreman, didn't you? If you didn't, wipe up the grease on the counter.

12) Raid the spice cabinet and put whatever catches your eye on the chicken breast.

13) Eat the chicken breast.

14) Look up the symtoms of salmonella on the internet, just in case.

Holy crap, you guys. We're having a blast down in D.C. Mom and I wandered around the Smithsonian while S was at work. There was an honest-to-God whaleboat with all the trimmings: harpoons, lances, oars, lines all coiled in their tubs, buckets, a notch in the bow seat where the harpooneer would brace his knee. There was even a copy of Moby Dick nearby, open to the chapter called "The Dart," in which Melville lovingly describes the harpooning of a whale. Everything was exactly as he described it. Absolutely fantastic.

The statue of Ulysses S. Grant in front of the capitol building is likewise fantastic. It really captures the essence of the man; rumpled, in an overcoat and slouch hat, slightly hunched on the back of his horse. We stumbled across a statue of James Garfield, too, which was a neat find. Basically Mom and I had a great time wandering around and looking at stuff. Then S got there and we continued having a great time wandering around and looking at stuff.

Good times. Good times with capitol cities.

I was thinking the other day about the fact that I graduated and how it compared to graduating from high school. I suspect that college graduation will be considerably more memorable than high school, even though high school arguably marked a considerably sharper turning point in my life.

Mom and Dad came up, of course, and I spent pretty much the entire weekend with them and Elise. Hit all the Marquette hot spots, went hiking along the Little Garlic river, that sort of thing. Dad and I actually took off on a little side excursion there, leaving the path to clamber and scramble along the banks on our way back to the car while Mom and Elise followed the trail back. It was funny to contrast how Dad and I moved through the terrain. I tend to try to keep my balance, stay upright the whole time, walk rather than crawl whenever possible, while Dad's method seemed to be more of a semi-controlled crash through all obstacles. Fun times, fun times.

The actual ceremony was better, too, if only because the speeches didn't seem to take as long and it was in the Dome.

Well, I just very nearly deleted the whole post, so before I do it again I'm gonna call it a day. Onward!

(Also I'm pretty sure my essay is too short)