Scanning obscure bulletin board property-for-sale classifieds takes you to interesting places.
"2 br 1 bath home ... new furnace and added insulation ... very cute with some updates ... perfect for a starter home or small family ... in Ringsted IA. Desperate need to sell ... $19,500 and offering $3500 cash back after closing. Willing to accept other offers. "
My inner Donald Trump says you could walk into this home with $10,000 and wave good-bye to the previous owners in about ten seconds flat.Then you'd live with a bunch of Ringsted Danes. They founded the place in the 19th Century, and Wiki reports:
The St. Ansgar Danish Lutheran Church was organized by the city's original founders in 1882. In 1894, due to a theological debate about the word of God and activities such as dancing, the Danish Lutheran community was divided into two groups nicknamed "Happy Danes" and "Sad Danes" ... "Happy Danes" did not believe dancing was sinful.
This dreadful theological schism persisted for a century and a quarter, but if I know my Lutherans the jihad was effectuated mostly by refusing to shake hands except at weddings, funerals, threshing bees, and other solemn occasions. In any case, ecumenical harmony was restored four years ago when the warring dancers and long-faces officially reunited.
I haven't discovered if the union sanctions dancing, but if it does you might want to check out the house. A guy could do worse than spend his days living cheaply and prancing the Dansk polka with happy Danes.
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 15, 2011
Sortie!
An old man I admire must attend to some business in the Mysterious East, namely near the valley of the Ohio River. So he's mounted the camper on the pickup and is tidying his affairs to permit a little roady across four states -- more if the gypsy urge remains strong and the house sitter is available for an extra few days.
He would anticipate pure delight, motoring along blue highways awash in fall color except for one thing. To get where he's going means traversing enemy territory, Illinois.
Meaning that on the free side of the Mississippi River he'll need to pull over, unload his side arms (one business, the others recreational), lock them in something and stash the locked boxes in the locked camper. While he's back there he'll also case the Mossy turkey gun and carefully separate it from the 00 buck. Next comes prayer that he'll have no contact with armed loyalist forces and that, if he is, the polizei will be familiar with national innocent-passage laws.
He has one other Illinois-crossing regimen. On the free side he fills the tank, lays in a supply of junk food and a thermos of coffee. And he pees. The objective of course is to make the treacherous crossing without spending a single cent, or even stopping. To be seen loitering afoot in that people's republic is to open one's self to suspicion of collaboration with Rahm toadies.
(Five years of having an office at 188 West Randolph Street will do that to a guy.)
Fortunately, Illinois is skinny, and the likely route re-encounters the the protection of the American Constitution after just 200 miles. If the damned place was any wider he'd forget the whole thing and go back to Montana instead.
He would anticipate pure delight, motoring along blue highways awash in fall color except for one thing. To get where he's going means traversing enemy territory, Illinois.
Meaning that on the free side of the Mississippi River he'll need to pull over, unload his side arms (one business, the others recreational), lock them in something and stash the locked boxes in the locked camper. While he's back there he'll also case the Mossy turkey gun and carefully separate it from the 00 buck. Next comes prayer that he'll have no contact with armed loyalist forces and that, if he is, the polizei will be familiar with national innocent-passage laws.
He has one other Illinois-crossing regimen. On the free side he fills the tank, lays in a supply of junk food and a thermos of coffee. And he pees. The objective of course is to make the treacherous crossing without spending a single cent, or even stopping. To be seen loitering afoot in that people's republic is to open one's self to suspicion of collaboration with Rahm toadies.
(Five years of having an office at 188 West Randolph Street will do that to a guy.)
Fortunately, Illinois is skinny, and the likely route re-encounters the the protection of the American Constitution after just 200 miles. If the damned place was any wider he'd forget the whole thing and go back to Montana instead.
Sep 14, 2011
Why We're Broke: The Prick Factor
Next time you write a check to your government, rest assured part of it will support pricks. You knew that of course, but confirmation is always nice.
The University of Iowa gouges Iowans mostly, but , like the others, it wins its share of federal pork, and the art department is spending to display daintily decorated casts of John Holmes pork.
Standard disclaimer: I don't think artists, however untalanted or merely twee, should be censored. I just object to being ordered to support them.
The display is titled The John Holmes Prick Parade, and, to be fair, a university flack says they put up a sign at the door warning that you might want to think twice before taking the kiddies in.
U of I spokesman Tom Moore said ... the university has guidelines about what is deemed tasteful and appropriate for its art students to produce, and this project falls within those guidelines. “There is no attempt to censor an artist as long as they meet those guidelines,” he said.
May life spare me the experience of having to view -- much less pay for -- art which fails the University of Iowa's high standards of taste.
The lady who who created this tasteful exhibition said she saw an original casting of the Holmes Memorial and got to thinking about how a body parts come to commodities. Apparently she hasn't taken biology yet or she would have understood that the life sciences confirmed ages ago that, yep, male members are ubiquitous enough to be to be called commodities; they come one to a customer and, if demographers are to be believed, are rather widely shared with The Others.
---
I know.This is low-hanging fruit and I should be ashamed of myself.
The University of Iowa gouges Iowans mostly, but , like the others, it wins its share of federal pork, and the art department is spending to display daintily decorated casts of John Holmes pork.
Standard disclaimer: I don't think artists, however untalanted or merely twee, should be censored. I just object to being ordered to support them.
The display is titled The John Holmes Prick Parade, and, to be fair, a university flack says they put up a sign at the door warning that you might want to think twice before taking the kiddies in.
U of I spokesman Tom Moore said ... the university has guidelines about what is deemed tasteful and appropriate for its art students to produce, and this project falls within those guidelines. “There is no attempt to censor an artist as long as they meet those guidelines,” he said.
May life spare me the experience of having to view -- much less pay for -- art which fails the University of Iowa's high standards of taste.
The lady who who created this tasteful exhibition said she saw an original casting of the Holmes Memorial and got to thinking about how a body parts come to commodities. Apparently she hasn't taken biology yet or she would have understood that the life sciences confirmed ages ago that, yep, male members are ubiquitous enough to be to be called commodities; they come one to a customer and, if demographers are to be believed, are rather widely shared with The Others.
---
I know.This is low-hanging fruit and I should be ashamed of myself.
Sep 13, 2011
World Premier! "The Virgin Whine."
Of course it is the whine which is chaste, not your author who is marking the approaching autumnal equinox with a domestic report, his first weather pee'n'moaner of the season.
The woodburner was getting ugly, loaded with paper and plastic trash, waiting for a morning just like this. I lit it off and it blazed nicely for about 15 minutes. The bitch is this: It felt way too good.
The woodburner was getting ugly, loaded with paper and plastic trash, waiting for a morning just like this. I lit it off and it blazed nicely for about 15 minutes. The bitch is this: It felt way too good.
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