Your Money or Your Life, Mr. Lime

One of my all time favorite movies is The Third Man, directed by Carol Reed. When Graham Greene adapted his novella into a screenplay, perhaps the world was a more understandable place. The post World War II period never seemed simple to me. Somehow I doubt life was any less complicated back then, but that’s nostalgia for you.

Poor Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) arrives in multi-occupied Vienna after being offered work by his friend, Harry Lime (Orson Welles). Martins soon discovers that Lime has been run over by the proverbial bus (lorry) and will not soon be delivering on any promised employment.

Moving right along, Martins discovers that Harry Lime was a black marketeer of the most nefarious type. Lime stole a shipment of penicillin and, after watering it down, sold it back to the medical community. Unfortunately the diluted penicillin is possibly worse than worthless and numerous children have allegedly either died or been crippled by Lime’s product.

Harry Lime is portrayed as the most despicable of human beings. A cretinous bug. But this was all back in the 1950s when things were simpler. Back then a scumbag was a scumbag, even if you couldn’t use the word scumbag in polite society.

Harry Lime, the lowest of the low, profiteer and thief.

But let’s hold on a second. That was how hateful Harry was perceived sixty years ago. Let’s have another look at Harry from today’s enlightened corporate perspective.

Was Harry ever convicted of a crime? Absolutely not. Allegations he had stolen penicillin were never proven. Innocent until proven guilty.

Did Harry Lime steal the drugs he was accused of reselling? Again, how Harry came into possession of his product has never been adjudicated.

What was Harry Lime's crime? Multiple jurisdictions, no conviction.

What crime? Harry Lime simply maximized profit with the product he had at hand.

Penicillin was a desirable commodity at that time in Vienna. Lime was in possession of a source for the drug and doctors and hospitals were willing to purchase this commodity at venues considered illegal. Certainly the medical community didn’t have to make these questionable purchases. These medical professionals chose to buy black market drugs. How could they imagine these illegal drugs would be of the same quality and potency as those obtained through legitimate channels? These medicines should have been tested for quality before they were used on unsuspecting children. Obviously, the medical profession was negligent.

So there you have it. Harry Lime wasn’t guilty of anything. All he did was profit on the ill health of those who could afford to pay for his watered down pharmaceuticals.

Today Harry Lime, profiteer and murderer, could easily become an executive for any of numerous American health care providers or drug companies. The Third Man certainly knew how to turn the ill health of innocents into a commodity. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Harry Lime, corporate medicine at its finest!
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Moveon, there's nothing happening here, just Moveon

Today I found in my overflowing inbox another email from Moveon.org. I guess I've been on their mailing list for a long time now.

Moveon began with simple goals. Stop talking about your neighbor's sex life. Stop the war in Iraq, get Bush out of office, etc. In general it's a fine organization meant to appeal to the best in us. Stop unnecessary killing and all torture. Things like that.

Moveon helped organize tens of thousands, at least, of young people to get the Democrats in control of the government.

But today's missive was something else again.

Today I was informed that Moveon was now involved with regulating Wall Street. Perhaps they have been doing this for some time. Maybe I previously had just failed to notice. Today I was told that I should send money to Moveon so they could deal with all the criminals involved in the AIG shell game.

Wow! Somebody has discovered there are a bunch of thieves involved in the financial markets!

Now I certainly applaud anyone who has figured out how to deal with the infinite machinations included within our present financial system. And after I introduce you to them, I have a small bridge I can sell to you in Breukelyn. Moveon has just joined the most disreputable of all social beings, the economic pundits. To say this is a comedown is putting it mildly.

Listen! All of you liberal rabble rousers out there, stick with what you know. I seriously do not want Amnesty International telling me how to clean up the environment. I don’t want Greenpeace asking me for money to campaign for more libraries. Stick with what you are Moveon.org. Do not pretend to be the financial police. And most certainly don’t ask me for money to do something you really shouldn’t be doing. Isn’t that what got AIG into trouble in the first place?
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Why the health insurance companies love Obama

Let’s face it, Obama’s heart was never with health care reform. He has invested approximately zero of his political capital in creating a new health care insurance system. Zero. Nada. Zilch. For the past year, platitudes have been the only words to escape his lips while he vocally supports not a single specific program.

Democratic Presidents, ex-officio leaders of the Democratic Party, are meant to push specific programs. When Obama was first elected he had tremendous political capital and grassroots support. Over the last year he has frittered away all that momentum. Who can get behind the health care bill of President Platitude? There is no bill. Over the past week Obama has mentioned his health care program on numerous occasions. But there is no such program. He stands for nothing. Obama can speak endlessly about generalities. Perhaps he missed his calling. Perhaps he should be penning greeting cards. “Hope!”

Now who benefits from all this? Obama’s opponent in the Democratic primary was Hillary Clinton. If anyone scared the health insurance industry more than Senator Clinton, please let me know. What the health insurance industry needed was a Democratic candidate who could mouth all the right platitudes but who had no particular desire to upset the health insurance industry as it exists today.

All I know is, that after a year, President Platitude has accomplished nothing as far as reforming the health insurance industry is concerned. The insurance companies couldn’t have asked for anything more.
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From the Circus History Message Board

CIRCUS RIDER

a novel history of the first American circus

and a great American portrait

now available in the United States

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(for Breschard/Ricketts Gilbert Stuart posts, click the "Gilbert Stuart's Circus Rider" link on the upper right hand corner of this page)

27 Jan 2010 - Among the earliest of photographic portraits of circus people are several images of animal presenter Jacob Driesbach. A long-time collector that owned one of them saw fit to bestow an identification of Isaac A. Van Amburgh upon it, having no knowledge of the actual sitter other than his general notoriety. There is no evidence at hand to confirm that Van Amburgh ever sat for a photographer.

The late Stuart Thayer had descriptions of both Driesbach and Van Amburgh. He even found a newspaper reference for the session when and where Driesbach was photographed. Thayer advanced a strong case for his Driesbach identification. Despite overwhelming evidence, others interested in photographic materials refused to accept his findings for fear of alienating the collector.

Thus, the earliest prominent portrait of an American circus owner, as well as some of the earliest photographic portraits of a circus performer are both challenged in their identification. Even with a sound argument at hand, it is often impossible to alter an entrenched mentality until a generational change takes place. Truth falls victim to allegiance, for a variety of reasons, especially in the public eye. Good luck with your establishment of the Breschard identity for the Gilbert Stuart portrait. Fred Dahlinger 

http://www.circushistory.org/Query.htm#3227

Fred Dahlinger is an extremely well respected circus historian.

Generational change does not necessarily need move at a glacial pace.

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Obama Resigns

AP 01-21-10 10:35 PM

In a fit of rampant bi-partisanship, Barack Obama announced today that, "I intend to become the first President (not about to be impeached), the first Black President, the first Hawaiian President, of these United States, to resign from office."

Realizing, at long last, that after one year in the White House his only remaining supporters were paid employees of the war/medical/pharmaceutical/insurance/money laundering machines, today President Obama finally made a proposal upon which both sides of the aisle could agree.

"I mean, seriously folks, why on earth did you ever expect someone with as little experience with the top levels of government to be anything other than a poster boy for military industrial complex? They’ve been at this for a long, long time. I was in the Senate for what, a couple of weekends? Truly, I am sorry. The accommodations were wonderful and Michelle and the girls had a great time, but we are so out of here. To tell the truth, I’d rather be on the beaches of the great state of Hawaii."

News of Obama’s resignation was greeted with relief. "Joe Biden’s no great shakes but at least he isn’t going to listen to anything the Republicans have to say." said a senior Senator. This seemed to be the general consensus of most Democrats on hearing the news.

From the other side of the aisle, former Presidential candidate John McCain wished his one time opponent well and "Thank God Barack is doing this. He scared the hell out of us. I mean, was he sleepwalking or what?"

Reached for comment the President presumptive, Vice-President Joe Biden, mentioned something about trains not being available for the additional commute.
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Inscriptions on Breschard, the Circus Rider, not by Gilbert Stuart

There  appears to be a good deal of confusion about the two inscriptions at the bottom corners of this painting. As has been shown by the National Gallery of Art, these two inscriptions were placed on the canvas years after the work was completed. The guesses as to what the names may be are both many and confusing. They were not added by Gilbert Stuart but by someone unknown which is what is meant by "later hand". The names are neither Ricketts nor Breschard. Not even the NGA uses these signatures to indicate who the actual sitter is.

http://www.nga.gov/fcgi-bin/tinfo_f?object=3160&detail=ins

from the NGA

Inscription

in a later hand, lower left: Portrait of / Mr Rickarts / Horse Equestraine [sic] / Friend of the artist / Gilbert Stuart; in a later hand, lower right: Portrait of Rickarts / Horse Equestrian / An Intimate Friend of / Gilbert Stuarts

These indecipherable inscriptions, added long after the painting was completed by someone other than Gilbert Stuart, are useless in deciding who was the sitter for this portrait.
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Non-Comic Strips, Almond Division

Many things in life are like lifting a heavy weight. This recipe is one of them. There are two truisms that come to mind whenever I know I’m about to strain every muscle in my body and possibly sustain minor to more than minor injury. Three things actually. One: Avoid injury. Two: lift with your legs. (If you learn anything from all of this, lift with your legs is as good a lesson as any.) But this recipe has nothing to do with these first two thoughts. Mostly. Number three is what concerns us here. Number three, as we all should have learned a long time ago, reads: Before you lift something heavy, know where you’re going to put it after you have it in hand. You really don’t want to be walking around going, “Where shall I place this awfully heavy object which is causing me such pain as I walk around with it in my hands looking for a place to unload the damn thing other than from where I just picked it up? Ouch.”

We are here to avoid that pain. Know what you are going to do with these almondy wonders before you launch into this recipe. Know that you are going to send a dozen to the neighbors. Know that your nieces and nephews will enjoy them without end. Know that your overweight rival in the office will gobble them down and thus be one step closer to taking six months of medical leave due to the triple bypass. Know that the two women sharing the apartment down the hall are going to be just as pleased as punch.

Do not leave these around your own premises. You may keep a half dozen for yourself and a friend. If you do not disperse these immediately you will end up looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy, a sad cross between an adorable adult infant and the guy from the old neighborhood who still lives in his grandparents’ basement, is at least 200 pounds overweight and gives off vibes similar to a bad slasher movie.

You have been warned.

½ cup unsalted butter (one stick)
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1 egg
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon almond extract
a wee bit of milk
½ cup sliced almonds, roughly chopped
Powdered Yet Drippy Sugar Icing

Take the butter and egg out of the refrigerator an hour before you want to make these. You have to get the ingredients in the mood. Warm them up a bit. Ease into it. None of that, “Honey, I’m home, let’s do it” shit. Room temperature ingredients. This is the French way.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Beat the crap out of the butter with an electric mixer for about thirty seconds at medium speed. If you don’t have an electric mixer, you probably already have massive forearms so I’m not going to help you out.

Toss in 1 cup of flour, all the sugar, your warmed, desirable egg, baking powder, as well as the almond extract. Hit it again with the mixer until completely integrated then toss in the rest of the flour and beat it. Really beat it.

Take this dough and toss it onto a marginally floured cutting board. Chop the dough into four equal parts. Take each one of these and roll it into a twelve inch long roll. You will feel like an idiot but just do it. Take out an ungreased cookie sheet and place the rolls on it about five inches apart. Using the karate chop edge of your hand, flatten the rolls until they’re about three inches wide.

Take out your pastry brush (I know, I know), and lightly paint the now flattened rolls with a wee bit of the milky.

Shove that cookie sheet into that 325 oven and let ‘er rip for 13 minutes, give or take sixty seconds. When you eyeball these toasted tubes, the edges should be slightly brown, like really over whitened coffee. Take them out of the oven then diagonally slice the suckers into 1 (one) inch(“) strips. Cool these babies down on a wire rack (I said, I already know). Drip the disgusting looking icing (recipe follows) all over these puppies. And then get them out of your house.

(Powdered Yet Drippy Sugar Icing - cup powdered sugar, 1/4 teaspoon vanilla, a little milk. Mix sugar, vanilla, and a tablespoon milk together. Add milk a teaspoon at a time until it looks drippingly, disgustingly perfect for slobbering over your almond non-comic strips.)

Then get them out of your house, Doughboy.
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Breschard or Ricketts? One reason why this matters

One of the most important functions of any government is the education of children. A  major part of the National Gallery of Art's brief is to aid in the development of America's next generation of citizens. When the government starts disseminating incorrect information to children, and this error is discovered, immediate action should be taken.

Now one might think that Stuart's portrait of a Circus Rider is a small thing. One painting out of hundreds of Stuarts out there. What's the big deal?

follow this link: National Gallery of Art - Gilbert Stuart for Kids

This is the NGA own childrens' guide to Gilbert Stuart. The first painting selected is obvious, The Skater. But the second? Even before the portrait of George Washington! Before the founder of this country! Before Adams, Jefferson, Madison and Monroe! Why it's Breschard, the Circus Rider. Amazing. Before George Washington is Jean Baptiste Breschard, the Circus Rider, Circus Owner, Theatrical Impresario, and a major donor to the first public school in New York City. And, look, there's the story of how Jefferson and Lafayette attended the opening of the Walnut Street Theatre with Breschard. Read it yourself. It's right there in the guide for children.

But wait. That's not the story that's there. And the NGA says that the portrait is of somebody named Ricketts, not Breschard. Instead they tell a story of John Bill Ricketts and George Washington. Probably a true story but it has nothing to do with this painting. It's simply a convenient story which the NGA thinks is as good as any to tell children. The facts of the story may be true, but the reason for it being told isn't factual.

It's not right for the National Gallery of art to spread misinformation to children. Or is it?
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Another Gilbert Stuart Lost Painting

In my most recent book, CIRCUS RIDER; a novel history of the first American circus, the identity of the sitter for a Gilbert Stuart portrait is an object of debate. The two contenders for who’s who in this piece of early American art history are John Bill Ricketts, an Englishman who brought the first circus to the United States in the 1790s; and Jean Baptiste Breschard, who with his partner, Victor Pépin, captivated the newly liberated colonists with their performances from 1807 until 1815. Traveling a seasonal circuit including New York, Philadelphia, Richmond, Boston and Charleston; Breschard, a Frenchman, and Pépin, a native New Yorker, entertained Americans at their permanent circus theatres with years of sold-out performances including equestrian shows, circus acts, classical drama, melodramas, comic plays, hippodrama and lots, lots, more!

In 1970 the National Gallery of Art renamed this portrait “John Bill Ricketts,” disregarding the definitive 1879 identification of the sitter as Jean B. Breschard by George C. Mason (author of The Life and Works of Gilbert Stuart), George Washington Riggs (known as “The President’s Banker” and a founder of the Corcoran Museum of Art) and the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Mason’s book and the Boston Museum’s exhibition weren’t sufficient evidence for the NGA. Living witnesses to Breschard’s performances weren’t enough. Instead they turned to a small note by T. Allston Brown, a gentleman with a reputation for inaccuracy, and changed the name of Stuart’s painting from "Breschard, the Circus Rider" to "John Bill Ricketts."

The entire NGA identification rests upon unsupported statements by T. Allston Brown as to who owned the portrait previous to George Washington Riggs. According to Brown the last owner before Mr. Riggs was a certain Peter Grain, a Frenchman and artist. This is the NGA provenance and primary reason for changing the identification. http://www.nga.gov/fcgi-bin/tinfo_f?object=3160&detail=prov

Oddly enough Peter Grain’s son, Peter Grain, Junior, spent most of his professional career working as a scenic director at the Walnut Street Theatre in Philadelphia which was built by Pépin and Breschard. If someone could show that Peter Grain, the elder, was a member of the Circus of Pépin and Breschard, it certainly would go a long way to discrediting the NGA provenance based on the words of T. Allston Brown (This was a man who could publish six factual mistakes within a single paragraph. See my January 8, 2010 blog post. ).

By request of Beth Ahrens-Kley who publishes a Gilbert Stuart blog and is currently researching this particular debate, what follows is fairly definitive proof that Peter Grain was a member of the Circus of Pépin and Breschard. Peter Grain would certainly be capable of identifying his old boss, Jean Baptiste Breschard and passing this information along to George Washington Riggs. This should put an end to any justification for the current NGA stand that the portrait is of Ricketts. Any reasonable institution should once again identify the portrait as Breschard, the Circus Rider.

An 1809 advertisement for the Circus of Pépin and Breschard in New York

 

“This Evening, Aug. 2, 1809, Messrs. Pepin, & Breschard, will have the honor to give a brilliant representation of Horsemanship, Vaulting and Dancing.

To which will be added for the first time the New Pantomime of BILLY, or the Reward of a Good Action, performed with combats, &c. by Mr. P. Grain”

and now from the Walnut Street Theatre

 follow this link: Stuart portrait identified as Breschard

This is  only the beginning. It's time to bring back this forgotten piece of history.

CIRCUS RIDER

a novel history of the first American circus

and a great Gilbert Stuart American portrait

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Bad history

Just for fun I decided to revisit the work of T. Allston Brown, who the National Gallery of Art depends upon greatly for their provenance.

from T. Allston Brown's History of the American Stage, 1870 (nine years after the citation used by the NGA)

Peppin and Burschard. - Peppin and Burschard, with a French Circus, landed in Boston in 1806, from Spain. They performed in conjunction with West, at Philadelphia. Peppin built the Walnut Street Theatre. Peppin had a thorough military education. He was an officer in the cavalry of France. He was born in Albany. His parents were French. They left Albany for Paris when Peppin was two years of age.

http://www.circushistory.org/History/Brown.htm#P

Aside from not knowing how to spell Pépin or Breschard, getting the year they arrived in the USA wrong, 1807 not 1806, Pépin and Breschard together not ever working with West, both Pépin and Breschard building the Walnut Street Theatre in Philadelphia, not Pépin alone, and Mrs. Pépin having never gone to France, I guess the rest of his piece is correct.

For someone who is relied upon as a source for the Smithsonian, getting six facts wrong out of a possible ten is a poor, poor performance.

This is the author the NGA uses to negate Mason, Riggs, and the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

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More governmental errors

(The following is  in reply to an inquiry.)

As has been mentioned, Peter Grain worked in the Circus of Pépin and Breschard. At the moment I’m looking at an image of an 1809 newspaper notice. P. Grain’s drama “Billy” is advertised by Pépin and Breschard and Grain has the leading role. Grain was a member of the company for at least a year. Having worked with Jean Breschard, I feel comfortable in assuming Grain would be capable of recognizing a portrait of his former boss.

You should look into exactly who George Washing Riggs was. Among other things he was probably the richest man in the United States during his time, an advisor to Presidents, and one of the founders of the most prestigious Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. It was he who identified the sitter to Mason. In my files is a copy of a handwritten note from Riggs to Mason identifying the portrait as being that of Breschard.

Pépin and Breschard were the premiere performers in the U.S. from 1808 until 1815. (Very few people in this country can name the most popular performers of any decade during the 19th century.) Calling either of them a minor circus equestrian shows poor scholarship on someone’s part. Some research into historical newspapers will prove an education on this point. The NGA has been professionally negligent about this.

Ricketts’s brother being the first owner of this particular painting is a misreading of an extremely dubious source. This attribution is at best a rumor and at worst, well, never mind. This is by far the weakest part of the NGA provenance and does not rise to meet any academic standard.

When someone is in the entertainment business, there are numerous reasons why one would wish their portrait painted.

M indicates that Ricketts left for the West Indies before the painting was finished. This is without any factual basis. A Mr. C at the NGA had serious doubts about the Ricketts ID in the late 60s (I’d have to look at my notes for a more precise date), his research into the identification was a bit shallow since, I believe, the NGA is basically more interested in the portrait being by Stuart than in exactly who the sitter is.

Breschard, the Circus Rider by Gilbert Stuart

In 2004, thanks to the wonders of Google, a portrait of Jean Baptiste Breschard by Gilbert Stuart became known to me. Having only discovered the existence of this historical Breschard a few years previous, I was intrigued. Unfortunately, the name of this particular painting was no longer “Breschard, the Circus Rider,” the sitter was now designated as “John Bill Ricketts,” the portrait's identification being changed by the National Gallery of Art sometime in the 1970s.

After having completed a great deal of research and having read pertinent parts of the NGA archive, I became convinced by the existing evidence that in all probability the portrait by Gilbert Stuart was indeed that of Jean Baptiste Casmiere Breschard.

So I wrote a book about the man, the circus, the artist, the painting, the NGA, etc.. I’m presently in the process of having it published.

The main reason I’m writing this is due to the fact that another student of Stuart has come across the controversy and is using some of the entries I’ve helped edit in Wikipedia as sources for posts to her blog. All I can say is that like all encyclopedias, Wikipedia doesn’t contain all the facts, and if I can be of any help, let me know.

Partial list of Democratic Party failures in past year

-Failure to prosecute those United States officials who authorized the torture of prisoners and those US agents and mercenaries who actually performed those criminal acts. This failure to  prosecute may itself be a criminal act.
-More than doubling the amount of troops and mercenaries in Afghanistan.
-To this day, a failure to reduce the number of troops in Iraq.
-Failure to close Guantanamo.
-Failure to bring single payer healthcare up for debate in Congress and Obama’s failure to campaign for a public option or similar method of health care insurance.
-Endorsing a mandatory purchase of private insurance by US citizens. This is probably unconstitutional.
-Continuation of a "never ending" war policy.

For myself, the Green  Party has now become the only organized political party worth backing.

Voted most popular

Now that Obama’s poll numbers are in the pits, how long will it be before some new major military action suddenly pops up? Will it simply be a variation on the ongoing misadventure in Afghanistan or will the head of the Democratic Party want a war all his own? I sincerely hope I’m wrong on this one. Wouldn’t it be nice if the “Larynx from the Loop” didn't disappoint for a change. His list of failures is getting to be a bit too long. Let’s all hope more people aren’t killed for the political expediency of another party.

Amateurs

Over the past few months I’ve had the occasion to witness more than two local area amateur art presentations. At times I have been amused, awed, confused, disappointed, annoyed, and many of the other states in which one finds oneself when presented with performances not advertised as being anyway professional.

Overall they were certainly worth every penny I paid and for the most part were an enjoyable way to spend an evening, sometimes needing to leave the performance itself aside, and concentrate on the social aspects which accompany these mostly under rehearsed presentations.

Which leads to the subjects of criticism, satire, racism, elitism, and free-fire zones.

Let’s start with the definition of a free-fire zone since it is the simplest to explain and where the greatest consensus should be discovered. My standard for a FFZ is simple and elegant. If a performer takes cash money from the public, they may be fired upon at will. As with most things, exceptions abound. Nominal sums collected for charities of one type or another, along with obviously non-professional performers are given a pass. But even if the toll at the door is minimal, if the company makes any claims to being professionals, they may be shot on sight if the infraction demands such punishment.

In short, take my money, expect my wrath if you step onto the stage under prepared.

But we are discussing amateurs. Lovers of the arts. Is it elitism not to criticize their performances? Not at all. If fact it is a far, far better thing to ignore an amateur performance than to employ either a condescending or uncritical eye to such shows.

Racism. Not exactly but try this for a moment. How should sportswriters sum up the Special Olympics? Should they compare the competitors to actual Olympians? Of course not. Should they ink yard by yard coverage of each thrilling race? Maybe if there is a thrill here or there but that’s probably not the best way to go. Or should they simply gloss over the whole event and eventually proclaim that a good time was had by all and everyone enjoyed a day out in the sunshine and fresh air. You can probably guess where I side on this one.

Which leads to another annoyance. There has been a trend of late by professional entertainers to satirize amateur performers and under talented professionals. This is the equivalent of grammar school punks mocking a schoolmate’s lisp. It’s right up there with Special Olympic’s jokes. Where is the art in creating mediocre art in order to mock untalented performers? What pride can be taken in attempting to capture the essence of a failed performance? It’s a race to the bottom.

What these professional entertainers are achieving is the distancing of their audience from the object of their ridicule. In order to be entertained by such rubbish, you have to view these objects as not being like yourself. As being the other. As in “even though I’m a thirteen year-old idiot, at least I’m better than anyone who lisps.” It’s dehumanizing another human being. It’s the old minstrel show. It’s the same technique as racism.

Satire should only be used on objects in need of attack. If you think your amateur theatrical group is in need of attack, you need serious help.

Public criticism should be reserved for those who seek assessment on a professional level. Amateurs perform for the love of the work. Those who mock amateurs are in it, at best, only for the money.

Peanut Butter Moosey Cookies

Moosewood Peanut Butter Cookies


1 cup peanut butter
1 cup butter, at room temperature
2 cups packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder


preheat oven to 350 degrees


Cream the peanut butter, butter, and brown sugar until light and well blended. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Stir in the vanilla. Sift together the flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder. Gently fold the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. Roll ½ tablespoons full of dough between your palms to form 1-inch balls and place them 2 inches apart on the baking sheets. Bake for 10 minutes. Transfer the cookies to a rack to cool.

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Breakfast Services at Barb's Diner

"Hey, these numbers can't be right." Phil steps up to the counter as he inspects the stats one more time. "No way, not for a kid his age."

"Some kids got it. Some don't. He's got it. He's got a lot of it." George rearranges scrambled eggs on his plate. "They'll gobble him up in no time flat. Probably be playing the Bigs before he's eighteen."

Phil waves down the woman working behind the counter then parks his butt on a stool next to his partner. She moves into position, and braces both men. "Barb, hey, how's 'bout some of your excellent waffles this fine morning?" Nodding, she scribbles notes in her pad. "Coffee, one of these bad boys," he points out a particular cruller beneath a plastic dome perched on the Formica counter, "and let's have some cranberry juice this morning. Hey, just for the hell of it. I'm feeling 'venturous today."

"Sure, hon." Barb rips a sheet from her pad and then impales it on the kitchen/counter passthrough spike. She slaps the bell, awakening Bernie, "The Chef". She pours Phil his java then shouts over her shoulder to the kitchen "Rise and shine, sweety pie, you can sleep when you're dead."

Bernie is moving and cooking before he's aware he's awake. He always answers the call. He tosses frozen waffles into the toaster, then sits himself down for another catnap. Dreams of southern climes and playing ball with his buddies flood Bernie's mind. He needs the rest. This isn't his only job.

"Take a kid like this guy we're talking about," George borrows Phil's newspaper. As he sips his brew, George marks notes around the article, "twenty years ago, he would've been doing what? Running cross-country?"

"Yeah, maybe baseball." Phil's half-eaten cruller rests in one hand while he brushes crumbs from the front of his zip-up jacket with the other. "Forget football, not enough meat on his bones. Forget basketball, too short. Hockey? Hey, get real. That leaves track and baseball. Yeah, cross-country or shortstop. Looks the type to me."

"And they play the damn game just about all year round. Who would have thought?"

"Here you go, hon." Barb parks a waffled filled plate and set-ups on Phil's place mat, "Anything else?"

"Hey, did I already drink my cranberry juice?"

"Sorry, Phil. You know how I get." Turning her back to the partners, Barb pours cranberry juice as she takes an order over her shoulder from a customer who's just come in and taken a seat.

"How ya doin' this mornin', hon?"

Barb delivers the order. "Happy now, Phil?"

"Couldn't be more delighted." He sips his juice. "Hey, how's your boy these days? Staying out of trouble?"

Barb's tired face lightens a bit. "Thanks for askin', hon. Who knows with kids his age? I haven't caught him at it again and the cops haven't either. So knock wood."

George motions for more coffee. "He should play sports. Keep him away from bad elements." Both George and Phil laugh. "Seriously, what's he now, thirteen, fourteen?"

"Thirteen."

"That's plenty young. Get him out of the apartment. Away from those damn computer games. Or worse. Get him out running around playing in fresh air. Supervised." George polishes off his eggs. "He like any particular sport?"

"Nothing I know anything about."

"What you mean, Barb?" Now it's Phil's turn for more coffee. "It's Spring. I know a couple of teams he might be able to play on. Hey, didn't he play Little League a couple of seasons?"

Barb rests her elbows on the counter and her head in her hands. "Forget it. He never liked baseball. The way he played, I can't blame him. He kills time watching soccer now and then. That's about as active as he gets."

Both Phil and George groan at the mention of soccer.

"Hey, Georgie, got somethin' for me?" Walking into Barb's small diner, Charlie C is all smiles.

George matches him, grin for grin. "Of course, Charlie, had yourself a good night last night. Didn't you." George looks to Phil who slides an envelope to his partner. "Who you like today?"

"Not today, Georgie. Sorry. Today I've got to cash out and run. Kids I coach need some new uniforms."

The light bulb inside the lamp Phil maintains in the recesses of his mind for illuminating brilliant ideas switches on. "Hey, still coachin' middle school, Charlie boy?"

"Yeah, Phil, ten to fourteen. I actually do some real good work with kids that age. Any older and their life's already pretty much set in stone." George hands Charlie C bills from the envelope. "Thanks, Georgie. I like workin' with kids. Keeps them from sitting in front of stupid electronic screens all day, playing video games instead of actually living."

"Not soccer is it?" Phil hopes against hope.

Charlie C cracks another grin. "Sure is, Phil, soccer. Soccer, football, whatever you want to call it." Charlie C calls out to the cook in the back. "Right, Bernardo? Football, Bernie, football. Gooooooooooal!"

From his station behind the diner's wall Bernardo chimes the call bell three times and shouts out enthusiastically, "Football!"

"Football, soccer, I don't care." Phil signals Barb, who by now has drifted off to tend other customers, to come back. "Hey, Charlie, you know Barb's kid, right?"

"Can't say I've seen him in a couple of years."

Barb joins the conversation. "Mornin', Charlie C, get ya somethin'?"

"No thanks, hon. I've got to get my rear in gear. Just now Phil mentioned your boy. Haven't seen him for a while. How's he been doin'?"

"Thanks for askin', hon. He's doin' O.K., I guess. Usual kids' stuff."

Phil catches Charlie C's eye, urging him on.

"Listen, Barb, I'm coachin' a soccer team for the parish and I need some more players. How old's the boy?"

"Thirteen."

"Perfect. How's about I give him a call later tonight and see if he wants to play on my team?"

For the first time all morning, someone smiles a smile of actual joy. "Charlie, that would be great. Let me write down the number for ya." Taking the pencil from behind her ear, Barb again scribbles in her pad. Handing the note to Charlie C, for a moment, a simple moment, their eyes meet.

Neither George nor Phil miss seeing that.

"Good man, Charlie C." George toasts him with his coffee cup. "We'll be seeing you later in the week then?"

"Sure." As Charlie C starts to leave, he looks toward Barb again and stops. "What the hell, Georgie, I'm feeling lucky this morning. Put me down for half a hundred on the Tigers."

George nods, Phil gives a quick wave, Barb's smile gets even wider, and Charlie C hits the street.

"Refills, boys? On the house." George and Phil both tap their coffee cups for more. Barb tops them off and moves on to other customers.

"Soccer. I'll never get it." George bemoans the changing times.

"So it's not our sport, George, no big deal. Adapt and move on. Hey, that's what I always say. That's my motto."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll tell you one thing and it ain't two, Phil."

"What's that, George?"

"The public is never going to get the kind of service we deliver from those damn internet bookmakers. No way, no how. I'll tell you that. They can't deliver our kind of service."

"You're damn straight, George. Hey, they can't beat the personal touch."

With that, the two bookies finish their coffees. They've more work to do and other stops to make.

As the partners leave the diner, Bernie the cook awakens from another catnap dream of green fields and soccer balls. "Gooooooooooal!!!!!"

END
 
from IN THE WIND

A Fine Belgian Ale Recipe

1 pound 40 Lovibond caramel malt

8.25 pounds pale liquid malt extract

2 ounces Cascade hop pellets, boil 1 hour

2 ounces Cascade hop pellets

4.2 ounces orange peel

3 chamomile teabags

Wyeast 1214 Belgian Ale or White Labs WLP530 Abbey Ale

If you don't know what to do with these, let me know.

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A Letter to the Editor

Dear Editor,
I find it deeply offensive that Creationism is not being taught in our schools. Of course the Creationism of which I speak is not the Christian Creationism, it is the Zachooly Creationism passed down to all Zachoolyists in the sacred scrolls of our religion. As is taught in our most enlightened faith, the earth was created by the wise Mistress Zachooly on the third evening of the second day of her journey through the magic forest of Zaab. All of this is well documented in the holy writings. Christian Creationism and the Creationist truths of all religions should be offered in our public schools, along with the true Creation teachings of the Mistress God Zachooly and her group of elfin warriors. Science, on the other hand, may well be an entirely different kettle of fish. Enjoy the upcoming lengthening of the day.
PJB