Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

And welcome, NSA!  Here’s the decanter.  There are walnuts on the table and the Stilton is over on the sideboard.

And now, a little Sunday random….

♦   Friday saw the annual student talent show at St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method.  Among the offerings was an a capella rendition of the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Do You Believe In Magic?” by the youngest gel and three of her friends.  They hit the notes somewhat in the manner of regimental volley fire – by saturation rayther than precision accuracy, but they were clearly enjoying themselves.  The final act of the afternoon featured a kid cutting dance steps to “Dynamite”.  (For those of you who don’t know it, this is a standard techno dance tune featuring lots of thump-thumpa and synthesizers.  It’s pretty awful, but at least it’s not rap, which I can’t stick at any price.)  About half way through, most of the rest of the elementary kids suddenly rushed the stage and joined in.  The spontaneity was quite pleasing.

♦   Did I mention before how amazingly fast this school year seems to have blown by?  I think I did.  So far as I’m able to keep track, we’ve got about a week and a half left until all three gels are over and done.   They all keep expressing wonder that I don’t get a summah vacation.  I’ve not made up my mind whether this is naiveté or just a little parental needling.

♦    Ol’ Robbo’s beloved Nationals continue to hover around the .500 mark, and it’s not a pleasant thing.  One could blame this on a number of key injuries we’re currently suffering, but I begin to suspect that it has a deeper root in all the pre-season hype.  I’ve never been comfortable with what the Baseball Gods must think of the whole “Natitude” campaign and I begin to think they’re now showing their displeasure.  For whatever reason, the team has definitely taken on the feel – as I saw somebody put it the other day – of “Flatitude”.

Oh, well.  GO, NATS!!

♦     Thanks to Friday’s tropical storm, when ol’ Robbo emerged from the talent show mentioned above he discovered several inches of water sitting in the well of the ol’ Wrangler.  Even with the back off, I can usually avoid this even during heavy rain by remembering to park facing into the wind, by “heaving to” as sailors would say.  Forgot this time.  Idjit.  Now the carpeting is going to smell moldy again until it’s been thoroughly aired out.

♦    I read Roger Kimball’s The Fortunes of Permanence: Culture and Anarchy In An Age of Amnesia yesterday.  The overall theme is right up ol’ Robbo’s alley:  a defense of traditional Western culchah in the face of the effort of utopian progressivists to wipe it all out in order to start afresh molding the Brave New World.   Kimball illustrates some of the permanent values by devoting chapters to various authors – Chesterton, Hayek, Kipling and Muggeridge, for example.  One of teh chapters considers John Buchan (author of The Thirty-Nine Steps and other spy thrillers), whom I have never read although I’ve always heard good things about him.  This is the second time in the past two weeks that Buchan’s name has turned up on Robbo’s radar.  I like to take these things as signs.  So I think it’s time to take a trip over to the devil’s website and sample him.

♦    Speaking of the devil’s website, I was over there this week purchasing a new biography of Grant recommended by the Mothe when, much to my horror, I discovered that I had inadvertently grabbed the kindle version.   It felt like turning over a rock and discovering a tarantula.   I’m glad, at least, that I was able to get a refund once I discovered my mistake.

♦     Well, I suppose I had better be about it.  Off to Mass and then an afternoon getting ready for the builders  (who start tearing down the mawster bawth and the deck tomorrow morning) and then cooking din-dins for my in-laws who are stopping over on their way back north for the summah.  Never a dull moment round here.

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