Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Well, Robbo’s beloved Nats have called a temporary halt to their battle against the Dodgers of Los Angelese this evening due to rain.  Port Swiller Manor is located some miles to the north-northwest of Nats Park and teh rain is moving south-southeast.  If what’s happening here at the moment is any indication, this delay is going to last well beyond Robbo’s work night bed-a-bye time, so I’ve pretty much written off getting to enjoy any of the game.  Instead, I’ll put on some Johann Georg Neruda trio sonatas, top off the ol’ glass, and give you some random.

♦  CD Observation I:  I am pretty sure the middle gel filches some of my classickal musick collection from time to time, as several favorite disks have gone missing and I can’t imagine anyone else in the household (including the cats) having any use for them.  (I know for a fact that she has appropriated and, in one way or another, destroyed most of my Mozart opera DVD’s.)  On the one hand, I object because of the nuisance when I wish to listen to them.  On the other, well, how can I….

♦   CD Observation II:  This afternoon on FB, I mentioned that I thought Monty Python’s record version of their “Piranha Brothers” sketch was superior to the one they did for teevee.  (This I attribute to the high quality of their voice-acting and the lack of distraction from a studio audience.)  On further reflection, I think this is true of a number of their sketches – the “Cheese Shop” and the whole “Spanish Inquisition” sequence come to mind, but the standard is far from universal.  Some of their material works best on stage, some on film, some on record.  I still haven’t pinned down the exact formula to explain this.

♦  On the literary front, I’ve been trying for some days to write a review of Msgr. Robert Hugh Benson’s Lord of the World, a piece of Catholic dystopic sci-fy set in the 21st Century that tells of the appearance in a Humanist-Marxist Brave New World of the anti-Christ and the build up to Armageddon.  Words fail me.  Suffice to say that this is about the most terrifying book I’ve read in a very, very long time, as much because of its plausibility and prescience (it was published in 1907) as anything else.

♦  Also on the literary front, as I seem to do just after every Easter, I’ve started in on the novels of Evelyn Waugh again.  So far I’ve polished off Decline and Fall and Vile Bodies.  The latter is perhaps my least favorite of Mr. Woo’s output because of its sledge-hammer brand of satire, but I must admit that I enjoyed it more this time around than ever before.

♦  I mention below that Mrs. R and teh gels were out this weekend giving a lick o’ paint to the back yard fence.  Meanwhile, Ol’ Robbo was busy with early season mowing and trimming.   One side of the back fence at Port Swiller Manor is occupied by a hedge of wisteria.  As I worked around it, I couldn’t help noticing yet again how deliberately said wisteria seems to reach out and make a grab for one’s power tools.  Indeed, they seem to have  a singular genius for getting tangled up in the throttle control and causing the machine to start screaming.  Clever, that.  I don’t know what the neighbors made, had they witnessed it, of the scene in which Robbo pulled violently away from the hedge, yanking on his mower and yelling, “Gerrouto’it! Let go! Let GO, you bastard!”

♦  Speaking of such things, I can’t help noticing that after our long, cold and late winter, many of teh plants in ol’ Robbo’s garden seem….confused.  They’re  all beginning to come up and leaf out, but way late and seemingly in a very hesitant manner, as if they’re not sure exactly what’s going on and would, if sufficiently spooked, go right back to dormancy.   I blame Algore for this.

♦  This past Friday, after complications too tedious to recount, ol’ Robbo finally got the emissions test done on La Wrangler and submitted her re-reregistration bumf online.  Although I printed out a temporary registration certificate, her plates still carry April ’14 tags which are, of course, now past due.  I am hoping that a cop pulls me over just so I can whip out my proof of re-registration and, Jerry Seinfeld-like, say, “Ooooh, I don’t think so!”

♦  Ol’ Robbo voted (absentee) in some sort of local community center board election the other day for the father of one of the youngest gel’s best friends.  I was perfectly happy to help the fellah out, but as I filled out the ballot, I couldn’t help thinking how repugnant the idea of running for any kind of office, however small,  is to me.  On my FB profile, where it asks my political affiliation, I quote the condensed version of William Tecumseh Sherman’s famous sentiment:  “If nominated, I will not run.  If elected, I will not serve.”  To me, Peej O’Rourke nicely sums up all politicks in his formula, “Politics is the business of getting power and privilege without possessing merit. A politician is anyone who asks individuals to surrender part of their liberty— their power and privilege— to State, Masses, Mankind, Planet Earth, or whatever. This state, those masses, that mankind, and the planet will then be run by … politicians.”

No, thankee.  I’ve my next life to consider.

Well, enough for one evening, I think.

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