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Tuckahoe Joe’s Blog of the Week: “The Dangerously Truthful Diary of a Sicilian Housewife,” (https://siciliangodmother.com/2013/02/12/sicilian-women-are-scrubbers/)

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While doing some research on things Sicilian, I came across the blog, “The Dangerously Truthful Diary of a Sicilian Housewife,” (https://siciliangodmother.com/2013/02/12/sicilian-women-are-scrubbers/) It contains some amusing stories about the life of a foreigner (in this case a British woman married to a Sicilian man) in Sicily, especially regarding her relationship with her Mother-in-law whom she refers to as “The Godmother.”
One day, The Godmother came round to my house when I had just swept and mopped all the floors. She was wearing her black skirt and black blouse, which is what Sicilian housewives put on when they really mean business. She gave me a pitying, or perhaps critical, look and said,
“Oh, you poor thing! You must be so worn out with all this unpacking and organizing that you haven’t had time to clean the floor.”
“Erm, yes,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” she said, her nose already in the cleaning products cupboard she had given me as a housewarming present. “I’ll take care of it.”
She extracted a thing which looked like a broom with no bristles and then wrapped it in a cloth which she dipped in something that smelled pungent enough to make my nose run and proceeded to rub it all over the floor with so much verve I thought she might actually erode the glaze off the tiles. “That’s just given it a quick removal of the main dirt,” she said, as she got on her knees and proceeded to pull the plinth away from the fitted cupboards under and around the kitchen sink.
She put the steel strips on the balcony and then proceeded to remove the entire underside of the island unit as well. Not satisfied with this, she then prised all the knobs off the hob, did something that looked downright painful to remove the oven door and then turned the extractor fan over the cooker into no less than eighteen separate, yet almost identical-looking, pieces of plastic grille.
Whilst I was profoundly shocked to see her calmly pull my kitchen to pieces, I was also flabbergasted that she was actually able to. For my whole life, up to that point, I had believed you needed men with exposed bum cleavages to do that type of thing.
While I was still searching for appropriate words, she filled the sink with several potent products, which foamed and gave off a greenish hallucinogenic vapour, and put all the small components of my ex-kitchen in it. While I sat down to regain some breath, she filled a bucket with whatever the Mafia use to dissolve dead bodies away to nothing except a few gold fillings, and started rubbing it into the pieces of stainless steel plinth she had yanked off the cupboards. I had chosen a matt finish but she kept working away at each piece of metal until she had made it look like a mirror.

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Tuckahoe Joe’s Blog of the Week: http://www.bradford-delong.com/2018/03/the-future-of-work.html#more

 

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An outline of what appears to be a course or conference on the future of work conducted by Brad DeLong. It begins with:

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And ends far less positive. Among the predictions was one in which we would all tend little garden plots for food and entertainment while the great AI and his minions handle everything else that needs to be handled. Another view was that we will stop reproducing until there will be so few of us we will no longer be in the way or pose a threat to annihilate ourselves — sort of like curios in a museum.

 

Slapstick Fascism

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Our country today suffers from a type of slapstick Fascism.— Something that could have been dreamed up by Charlie Chaplin or Mel Brooks if it were not so tragic and dangerous. We might even be entertained. After all, we are watching in the media a ditzy egocentric idiot and his grasping family sell off the bits and pieces of the worlds greatest empire for pennies on the dollar to the highest bidders. If it were set to music as it may ultimately be someday if there is a someday, I expect it will be called something like “Trump the Musical.” One scene could be the Great Clown’s minions tearing off pieces of his palace and selling them to screaming billionaires including those on stage left overdressed in be-medalled military uniforms except for one standing stark naked in the center who after singing, “I’m so Pretty” dances a duet with the Great Obese Clown (GOC) himself. After which the GOC turns to the audience sings “I am the greatest person who ever lived, Trust me.” And at the end of the play, when all that is left of his palace is rubble, he sings the dirge “Look at my works ye mighty and despair.”

Why should we not sing and dance along with the GOC, after all, selling of a country by a crazed clown is funny, is it not? Well, how about this for starters:

A foreign government directly attacking and subverting a democratic nation’s electoral system is as much an act of war as sending soldiers across its borders or terrorists to disrupt its economy. If its military budget cannot stop this then what is its purpose? Why does a nation spend billions and billions on military hardware that is never used and almost nothing on protecting itself from a foreign government attacking and subverting its electoral process?

In a democracy, its electoral process is owned by the citizens of that country and any foreign country that attacks that process attacks all its citizens.

Tuckahoe Joe’s Blog of the Week: The Passionate Olive. http://thepassionateolive.com/about/

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This is a blog about Olive Oil. Everything you would want to know and some things you would not think you would ever want to know. For example:

There’s something so thrilling about the Olympics that it’s hard not to be a huge fan. I’ve attended several Olympics in LA, Barcelona, and London. While extensive media coverage dominates the airwaves,  I don’t recall any of the reporters mentioning the importance of olive oil to the Olympics and the athletes. Olive oil and the Olympics is a fascinating story with a deep history dating back to the beginning of the first games in Greece. In fact, the Olympic flame is still ignited using a mirror and olive oil.

Quick olive oil facts of the early Olympic games:

Athletes competed naked.

Wrestlers used olive oil on their skin to reduce their opponent’s grip.

Runners were often massaged with olive oil before their race in the belief that the wisdom, power and strength of the Goddess Athena would be bestowed upon them.

While women could not participate nor attend, it was the duty of the priestesses to light the oil lamps in the temple of Zeus with olive oil.

Victorious athletes were crowned with wreaths of olive branches, and were given an amphorae filled with the finest precious and expensive olive oil

While athletes today strive for a gold medal, early Olympians competed for victory and “liquid gold
http://thepassionateolive.com/olive-oil-and-the-olympics/

 

Tuckahoe Joe’s Blog of the Week: THE “LET’S BE AGNOSTIC ABOUT RACE SCIENCE” CLOWNS ARE IN MY TWITTER TIMELINE AGAIN…

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This was snagged from Brad Delong’s blog:

http://www.bradford-delong.com/2018/03/the-lets-be-agnostic-about-race-science-clowns-are-in-my-twitter-timeline-again.html

The debate in the comments is worth the read.

“THE “LET’S BE AGNOSTIC ABOUT RACE SCIENCE” CLOWNS ARE IN MY TWITTER TIMELINE AGAIN…
Clowns (ICP)’

“Over on Twitter: 1500 GENERATIONS SINCE RADIATION FROM THE HORN OF AFRICA is not very many, n’est-ce pas? A genetic difference that gives you a—huge—extra 0.1% chance of surviving to reproduce will take a gene’s frequency from 1% to 5% of the population in that time.”

“Melanin and vitamin D, lactose tolerance and herding, sickle cell and malaria—all things with an order-of-magnitude bigger than 0.1% differential? Certainly yes. Other things like “general intelligence”? Almost certainly no. I don’t see how you can do the math and still claim otherwise.”

“And so I don’t see how those who claim otherwise—or even claim “agnosticism” about whether it is likely that there are “important” differences between “races”—have done the arithmetic.”

“Can’t do the arithmetic?”

“Haven’t done the arithmetic?”

“Reject the arithmetic because they want to justify some form of racial privilege?”

“I don’t really care.”

“As @ezraklein just wrote: “[such] race science… is not ‘forbidden knowledge’… [but rather] America’s most ancient justification for bigotry and racial inequality…” As Charles Manski wrote back in 2011: “Decompos[ing] cross-sectional variation in observed outcomes into unobservable genetic and environmental components”, no. “Measur[ing] specific genes and us[ing] them as observed covariates when predicting outcomes”, quite possibly.”

 

Races do not exist but racism does.

Tuckahoe Joe’s Blog of the Week:

SLJ

I found this in https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/pulp-fiction. Enjoy…

“Ezekiel 25:17. “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.” I been sayin’ that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin’ made me think twice. Now I’m thinkin’: it could mean you’re the evil man. And I’m the righteous man. And Mr. .45 here, he’s the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you’re the righteous man and I’m the shepherd and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. I’d like that. But that shit ain’t the truth. The truth is you’re the weak. And I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.

he became the shepherd instead of the vengeance.

Jules Winnfield- Samuel L. Jackson”

― Quentin Tarantino, Pulp Fiction: A Quentin Tarantino Screenplay.
(JP — Imagine, Jackson had to memorize the entire passage and recite it while acting the part. I always found memorization to be the most difficult aspect of acting. Often, I would resort to making words up whenever I forgot them during a performance. It would drive the director crazy when I would make up whole lines of Shakespearian verse. The audience, however, never caught on.)

 

Tuckahoe Joe’s Blog of the Week: VIKINGS AND ZOMBIES AND MAGICIANS AND DINOSAURS, OH MY!

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The inimitable and irrepressible economist Brad DeLong in his often serious blog about things of interest to economists and others with long serious faces reviews a novel, a fantasy no less about:

VIKINGS AND ZOMBIES AND MAGICIANS AND DINOSAURS, OH MY!

http://www.bradford-delong.com/2018/03/vikings-and-zombies-and-magicians-and-dinosaurs-oh-my.html

“Graydon Saunders has “committed book” again. The Human Dress is now almost live at Google Play Books. If this is the kind of thing you like, you will like this thing—I like it very, very much. Vikings and zombies and magicians and dinosaurs and much much much more.”

“It is not a book to skim: I am sure that I missed great and important things about the antagonists and their motivation and purposes. And I am also not sure whether the name of the ship really is “With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility” or not; or whether the principal heroine named “Red Harvester” is a Dashiell Hammett reference or not. And I still have many unanswered questions about just what happened…”

“I certainly did not expect so many important characters to be eaten by dinosaurs, or for the eating to have such consequences. Nor have a looked up what the runic inscription on the cover page means—although I suspect that there is a message there. Nor was I expecting the principal hero to say “ and you so neat with your food” at that time and in that place.”

 

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