Most Days I Can't Stand Him, Some Days I Adore Him -- And There's The Hitch

Christopher Hitchens is dying.  He's recently been diagnosed with esophageal cancer...and I'm pissed off about it.  I'm pretty sure he is too. 

If you've never heard of the author/polemicist/modern-day-gadfly, you've undoubtedly saved yourself a tremendous amount of ire and frustration.  On the other hand, you've also missed out on some of the most discerning and insightful social commentary of our time...whether you're inclined to agree with him or not. 

Hitchens has been a regular contributor to publications such as Vanity Fair, The Atlantic, Slate, and The Nation, in addition to being a best selling author of titles that include, god (lower case "g" intentional) Is Not Great, his anti-theist war cry, The Missionary Position, an unabashed attempt to defrock the legacy of Mother Teresa, and his most recent, Hitch-22, an autobiography in which he delves into the obligatory  homo-erotic-English-boarding-school dalliances and daddy-was-an-emotionally-distant-boozer cliches.

So what's the fascination with a guy that some people would write off as a divisive, arrogant blow-hard in love with the sound of his own voice?  Why the genuine melancholy over someone who is at once charming, condescending, snide, and aloof?  He's brilliant.  I'll miss him because he's brilliant.  I save the word brilliant for a select few that roam about on this intimate little planet of ours, but I'm not reluctant to bestow the usage on Hitchens, if for no other reason than the man has literally read every book known to man.  Twice.  And has retained so much information he's able to effortlessly recite everything from ancient Hindu Sanskrit passages to the Oslo Accords as if they were nursery rhymes.

Most of the time after reading one of his essays on the poison that is religion or hearing him go on (yet again) about the unconscionable sins of Bill Clinton, I want to punch him squarely in his smug, puffy face...but that's the point, isn't it?  And trust me...he's in on the joke.  Hitchens is that guy.  The man who divides a room.  The gent who draws a line in the sand with the plastic sword from his martini.  The one who angers you in such a visceral fashion that he forces you to rethink your current position and form an even stronger argument for why you believe it...if you still do by the time he's finished with you.

Not that he doesn't have some chinks in the armor.  I've found (especially regarding "god Is Not Great", a subject I happen to have a certain amount of expertise in) that chunks of his research are sloppy and unsupported by the majority of biblical scholars.  Basically, Hitchens' grand scheme is to have you become so irate and vexed over a sweeping blanket generalization, that you completely forgo any rational defense of his observations in favor of piss and vinegar.  Or to enthrall the already swooning sycophant beyond the point of messianic delirium and thereby closer to the center of Hitchens' sardonic web.

But there's something to be said about a man who is unapologetic about his convictions and yet, considerate and insightful enough to continually question those convictions and yes, even change them.  Hitchens is a man truly adhered to the theory of evolution, most certainly when it applies to intellect and reason.  I love that about him.  I love the way his mind works.  I love the way he's demanded that my mind work.  And the intellectual community will be far too quiet without him barreling about.  Get healthy, Hitch.  There are too many fine cigars left untouched for you to check out just yet.

Why Can't I Own A Canadian?

A friend of mine passed this along to me recently.  Yet another funny and poignant look at the hypocrisy and confusion of fundamentalists.  Honestly, there's so much material to work with, it's like shooting fish in a barrel.

In her radio show, Dr Laura Schlesinger said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus
18:22, and cannot be condoned under any circumstance.

The following response is an open letter to Dr. Laura, written by a US man,
and posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I
have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that
knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend
the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that
Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination ... End of
debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other
elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and
female, provided they are from neighboring nations. A friend of mine
claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you
clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in
Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair
price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her
period of Menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how
do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a
pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors.
They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus
35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated
to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an
abomination, Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than
homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there
'degrees' of abomination?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I
have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading
glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room
here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair
around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev.
19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes
me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two
different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments
made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also
tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go
to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them?
Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family
affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy
considerable expertise in such matters, so I'm confident you can help.
Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.


Your adoring fan.

James M. Kauffman, Ed.D. Professor Emeritus,
Dept. Of Curriculum, Instruction, and Special Education
University of Virginia

PS (It would be a damn shame if we couldn't own a Canadian)

Krizmanicdarko~

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tags/krizmanicdarko/

I love this guy's work.  Know nothing about him other than what's in the portraits.

Let me know what you think.

Three Days of the Condor

Just to drive the point home, here's a great scene from what I consider an amazingly astute film -- Sydney Pollack's "Three Days Of The Condor."  Just replace the image of Cliff Robertson with Tony Hayward.  I find the words eerily prophetic.

It Ain't All Tony's Fault~

Annnnd...just a brief commentary before I dash off to the grocery.

Please believe me when I say I am the most anti-green person you will ever meet.  I'm sooo the opposite of green, I'm like....deep, dried, ox blood red.  I would own 3 Hummers if I could afford them, one in each of my favorite colors.

I really don't buy it.  This B.S. about saving the planet is just another clever marketing scheme from all corners of the industrialized world.  If it looks like greed, and sound bites like greed, and texts like greed...it's probably an enterprising capitalist.

Now, before we replay the famous "Frankenstein" scene where all you tree huggers (and I say that with the utmost love & affection) come thundering after me complete with torches and blood hounds, just hear me out.

We cannot destroy this planet.  As much as our over inflated, gas guzzlin', pelt killin' egos would like to convince us otherwise -- it simply isn't possible.  Oh, let me be clear -- we can kill off our own species and every other life form that inhabits this little patch of universe with us...that's a certainty given our love of and fascination with split atoms.  But I promise you -- we could nuke this very nurturing, benevolent planet of ours repeatedly for millennia...and eventually...she'd recover and be good as new. 

Having said that, I completely understand why everyone is so quick to jump on the bandwagon to hang all the execs at BP in light of the recent oil spill debacle.  And how throngs of people would love to see Mr. Hayward tarred (literally) and feathered (possibly), with his head on a pike (I'm betting a resounding, "YES!").

Was BP negligent?  Absolutely.  Did they know about the faulty equipment for months before the crisis occurred?  All evidence seems to indicate as much.  Should they be held accountable?  Without question.  And is Tony Hayward one of the most insensitive, undiplomatic, polarizing individuals on the globe?  Obviously.

But, we are all culpable.  The minute we sold our convenience desiring souls to the habit inducing petrol Gods...we all became BP.  And every other oil conglomerate became our extended family.  Anyone who uses a laptop (me at this very moment), or drives any form of automobile, or mounts a rubber tire onto their mountain bike, or covers a baby's cute little tush with a diaper (organic or disposable)  is a close relative of BP.  Until we take a hard, serious look at what we're willing to change and sacrifice, and until we're ready to genuinely seek out alternative forms of energy...Tony is and remains our brother.

Mushrooms are such fun guys~

Okay, okay...I'm back (finally!) with the directions on how to finish those lovely little rounds of fungi.  Let's recap (ha! Get it?  'Cause mushrooms lids are also called "caps?"  Sadly yes, -- this really is the way my mind works) what we have so far:

Mama Lynn's Spinach Stuffed Mushrooms

40 oz package fresh Button Cap Mushrooms (the large blue container)
1 stick or 1/4 lb lightly salted butter
1 small Sweet Vidala onion or other sweet variety
3 cloves fresh garlic
1/3 lb Jimmy Dean Hot Italian Sausage
1 sleeve Ritz crackers
1/4 cup Parmesan Cheese
1 Tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 Stouffer's Spinach Souffle (in the frozen section at the grocery store with the Lean Cuisines and other diet meals)
pepper
paprika
dash of Tabasco

The very first thing you want to do is preheat your oven to 400 degrees.

The next first thing you want to do is take those luscious bulbs of heaven and clean them, then snap out the stems and set the stems aside in a bowl...you're gonna need them shortly.  After you've gotten your mushrooms all clean and free from cow dung, place them in a 18 x 13 standard jelly roll pan.  This next step is soooooo much easier if you have a food processor.  If not, you can still get the job done, just give yourself a smidge more prep time.  You'll now wanna take the stems and toss them in the processor or mince them by hand, peel your onion and cut it into quarters, then toss it into the Cuisinart (or again, mince by hand), and peel those perfect cloves of garlic, and toss into the mix (or mince by hand, yet again).  Pulse all these guys together for about a minute until it looks pretty much like liquid mush (or little bitty snips if you're Cuisinart deprived).  Now, take a standard saute pan and melt the butter in the pan on medium heat...when it starts to sizzle, toss in the mushy stuff.  You want to cook the mixture and basically reduce as much of the liquid from it as possible, being careful not to burn it or it'll turn bitter due to the garlic -- it should be a beautiful amber color.  When you get that hue, place this mixture into a large mixing bowl.  Now, take that same saute pan and brown the sausage (about 8 minutes) in it.  Attempt to separate the sausage into an even, granular texture as much as possible.  Once it's cooked, let it drain on a paper towels and if you've got the "Big Cuis" you can toss the cooked sausage in there for a few pulses just to get the texture really even -- if not, you're certainly welcome to mince it by hand.  Now place your sausage into the mixing bowl with the mushroom goop.  Next, you'll want to place the Ritz crackers, the Parmesan, and all the dry spices into the Cuisinart (or a large plastic baggy and heavy rolling pin) and pulse or crush until you have a bread crumb looking substance.  Add this group of buddies to the mixture in the large bowl.  You can dump in the Worcestershire and the Tabasco at this point, too.  Now, here comes the most complicated portion of the recipe:  cooking the frozen souffle.  The key is to cook the souffle to the right texture.  And here's the biggest hint -- it's not suppose to look ANYTHING like it does on the box.  What we're going for is something between a watery mess and a firm souffle.  First, you'll want to take the souffle out of the box and remove the thin plastic film that covers it.  Now, leave the souffle in the black plastic container that's been its home for the past few months and place it on a microwavable plate.  Next, put the plate in the microwave and zap it for about 3 -5 minutes depending on the setting of your microwave.  Take it out and with a regular ol' fork, sort of toss and mix it around in the black container.  At this stage it should be partially cooked, a little watery, and possibly still kinda frozen -- this is a good thing -- exactly you want you want!  Now, place it back in the micro and hit it for another 3 - 5 minutes.  At this point, it should be firming up nicely.  Now it's perfect.  Throw it into the bowl with the rest of the gang.  (If it's still too runny, cook it for 2 minutes at a time, stirring with your fork in between zaps until it firms up.)  Incorporate the entire mixture until it resembles an even...well... uhm...brownish, greenie, mossy color.  I promise, it'll taste a million times better than it looks.  Now, take a small spoon and fill those mushroom caps as much or as little as you wanna, placing them back in the jelly roll pan when they're stuffed.  Pop those little suckers in the oven for about 15-20 minutes to heat them thoroughly and cook the mushrooms.  They should be nice slightly browned and nice and steamy.  At this point, you can top them with shredded cheddar cheese, a tad more Parmesan, or if you really wanna go to town (my personal favorite) velvety Hollandaise decadence.  It's ridiculous how fabulous this combination is.  Seriously.  For real.  That's it!  Now sit back and revel in how fabulous they are.  Oh, but one word of caution -- let the 'shrooms cool off a bit before you bite into one or you'll blister and peel the skin off the roof of your mouth and ruin the whole sublime experience.  Enjoy!

Gurus and Mushrooms~

When this whole self indulgent, rather presumptuous notion of becoming a "blogger" (Lord, how I hate that word!) first drifted through my cluttered and unorganized closet of thoughts, I never really considered that my little, irreverent blurbs would be anything more than mindless entertainment. In all honesty, the initial inception was for pretty selfish motives -- to get me into the habit of writing...every single day.  And if you know anything about writing?  Well, I think my mentor, screenwriting legend, William Goldman says it best -- "The easiest thing to do on Earth is not write."

But the other night, after a rather exhausting few hours of meditation (side note here: any of you who might assume that the path to Hindu enlightenment is all "Oms and Mangos" have obviously never tried to maintain singular focus on God while nosey children are inquiring as to why you're on the front lawn in your pajamas in the middle of the night, chanting, brushing away the exceedingly vocally affectionate cat who has decided to join you, all the while trying to block out the aura splitting shrill of the neighbors car alarm. There's a reason why ashrams are at the top of deserted mountain peaks in India.  And why Gurus are single...and childless. That's why they look so blissful all the time. Makes sense now, doesn't it?) it became rather obvious -- "Hey, maybe you could actually do something with this little project."

So then I decided this blog should have a "purpose."  I got a little more amped and thought, "A mission statement could be useful!"  Then I got really excited and blurted out "A PHILOSOPHY!!! That's what this site needs!!!!"  Don't worry...at that point I realised it was all ego talking and reigned myself back in.  You can thank me later.

Anyway, my point is (and again, I apologize for my undisciplined rambling) I finally came up with something that sounded a lot less indulgent and self-aggrandizing...a hope. And it's just a simple hope at that: I hope that after you've come in, looked around, poked your head in the fridge, after we've had a chance to chat -- you leave this site feeling better about yourself, the world, and your place in it. That's all...nothing too complicated.

Now, having said all this, anyone who knows me understands that almost nothing makes me feel as good as feeding the people I love...or don't even know, for that matter. (You have my Gram Mae Azevedo to thank for this -- her generous and inventive cooking spirit was passed along through those resilient and stubborn Portuguese genes of hers.) In this vein, I'd like to share my most requested recipe with my friends. This little appetizer came about in my 11th grade Foreign Foods cooking class at Tahoe-Truckee High School. When I set out on my own a few years later, I tweaked it a little, adding some bits and bobs I thought it lacked and the final result has become:

Mama Lynn's Spinach Stuffed Mushrooms

40 oz package fresh Button Cap Mushrooms (the large blue container)
1 stick or 1/4 lb lightly salted butter
1 small Sweet Vidala onion or other sweet variety
3 cloves fresh garlic
1/3 lb Jimmy Dean Hot Italian Sausage
1 sleeve Ritz crackers
1/4 cup Parmesan Cheese
1 Tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 Stouffer's Spinach Souffle (in the frozen section at the grocery store with the Lean Cuisines and other diet meals)
pepper
paprika
dash of Tabasco

Annnnd now I have to run off to work, so I'll post the cooking directions tomorrow...or possibly this evening. Look at it this way, now you'll have time to go to the store and get all the ingredients!!!! :)

Oh Anderson! My Anderson!

Well...nothing like starting up your blog (again!!!) and letting it sit for a month.  Empty.  With no pearls of wisdom.  Or smatterings of humor. 

Truth be told (and I'm all about bearing my soul here, Mr. Cornbluth) things have been a little chaotic and rocky at the Wilhite Ranch, of late.  This is all of my own doing, of course.  If I could just learn to get out of my own way and stop trying to micromanage every aspect of my life, I'm quite certain all of the desired elements would fall into place.  It's as if I can literally see God rolling His eyes and saying, "Y'know, when you're ready to let me do MY job...unsupervised, I'll be right here for you.  In the meantime, have fun treading water...knock yourself out, kid."  So...I'm concentrating on centering myself and working in conjunction with my Creator instead of scurrying behind Him and rearranging the furniture, so to speak.

Anyway...I digress.  I do that a lot...the sad lament of an undisciplined, scattered mind.  (I'm working on that, too.)  But, in response to my original post, I had a few comments from my lovely followers and one in particular from my Irish Lass Kathy, inquiring about how it feels to be letting my oldest daughter set off into the world on her own, as an "adult."  And I loved this question...."cough, ahem, cough."  Nothing like diving head first into all my anxiety, Kath.

I kid, of course.  And it's an important topic to ponder given that Number One Daughter -- Michelle Anderson Wilhite (or the Big Diamond, as we like to call her) is indeed functioning primarily as an autonomous young woman these days (and for many more to come, I pray) whom we only occasionally see in passing as she frolics and breezes through our lives, coming home from work, poking her head in the fridge for a nanosecond (only to wrinkle her nose at the given prospects), and fluttering out the door again to any number of social callings.

Kathy asked me what my biggest fears are about letting my first born loose into the world  and I have to admit, I can sincerely say...I don't have many.  What I mean by that is that Chas and I have done our work with her...the real work...the hard, repetitive, mind numbing, beat-your-head-against-a-wall-because-the-child-would-argue-with-a-paint chip, kinda work.  The granite (sometimes overbearingly maternal) Portuguese foundation has been set;  she knows she's loved, whatever choices she makes, she understands she can always find sanctuary in my arms, she's confident that her Dad and I will do our best to guide her back towards the right path should she occasionally lose her way. 

So, do I worry?  Certainly.  I worry that someone whose upbringing has not been as nurturing and stable as Anderson's will bring harm to her, I worry that she'll over extend herself when it comes to money, I worry that she'll trust her heart to the wrong person.  But  all these are elements of her life that are beyond my control...and anyone elses really.  Again, I look to my very benevolent, loving God to watch over her and protect her, because let's face it -- she belonged to Him eons before she ever belonged to me and I know for certain that He has even more invested in her than I do...hard as that may be for me to wrap my limited mortal consciousness around.

What I hope for my oldest child is that she learns from my limitations and regrets...not that I have many...regrets anyway.  I hope that she will travel endlessly and see the world with radiant, curious, optimistic, cautiously critical eyes.  I hope that she'll find a career that utilizes her inherent talents of language, spontaneity, and a dangerously sharp wit.  I hope that she continues to educate herself by forever falling under the spell of a musty, old, used bookstore tucked away in the corner alley of a market place in Mumbai, or La Paz, or Kefalonia. 

Most of all I hope that (every now and then) she finds her way home, rushes through the door, pokes her head in the fridge (wrinkles her nose at the prospects), sits down at the table, uncorks a bottle of Italian wine from her latest adventure, pours two glasses...and shares her stories (with her beaming Mom) of how amazing her life is.  Of all of them...this is my greatest hope.

The World According To Lynn -- Part II

Add equal parts Lucy Ricardo, Linda Richman, and Roger Ebert and you might get something like this:

I'm Lynn.  And this is my Blog (a word I destest by the way, but we'll touch on that later).  I'm a middle aged wife/mother/writer who (for better or worse - I'll let you decide) has an opinion on EVERYTHING, from existential philosophy to pop culture to haute cuisine.  Got a topic?  Bring it on.  I'm always up for a challenging and robust debate.  Think Christopher Hitchens minus the snooty accent and greasy hair.

Stick around.  We'll be right back.