Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Oh, man, I knew this was going to come up...

Chet the E-Mail Boy was startled awake this morning when this message from reader Chef Tony von Krag came clattering through the keyset. Ostensibly, it was intended to be Tony's contribution to the Thursday Three, but given my recent mishap, he felt compelled to compound my misery thusly:

Sorry to hear about you cutting yourself. I guess that putting them frozen lil' pucks o' dough in the micro to thaw didn't come to the top o' the heap, brainwise?Humph! amateurs jess ruin it all the time... BTW, If you tried that fool stunt with knives I've sharped you might have lost your finger tip! (grin) Hope you get well and fully digited soon.

Good grief, you folks are COLD! Here I am, recreating the famous Saturday Night Live sketch of Dan Aykroyd as Julia Child cutting herself to ribbons, all for the sake of providing you with chuckles and grins, and you feel it necessary to chime in with these suggestions! Where were you when I needed you!?

Anyway, as I noted to Indigo last night way down in the comments section, that was one detail I managed to leave out of my story. In the time between breaking the head off the cheap potmetal Chinese meat tenderizer mallet and grabbing for the Old Hickory, I did indeed think that maybe I could thaw them a bit and it would help. I popped them in the microwave for about 15 seconds on Full Nuke, which didn't thaw them apart, but only made the outer surface slightly slick. Which, as you know, is just EXACTLY what I needed at the moment.

AND AS FOR KNIFE SHARPENING, that is one thing I do take great pride in, because I have long known that if you're really stupid and prone to cutlery self-mutilation, it's better that the blade be sharp--it makes a cleaner cut, and one that is more likely to heal without scarring. I decided to change the dressing on it last night, and am pleased to report that it didn't look near as bad as I figured it would, and there is only slight discoloration and no swelling to speak of. And the kids thought it looked REALLY cool. It's bandaged back up today, so I am still moving about the keyboard with diminished alacrity, so I'm still not back to blogging--except for special instances like posting Tony's taunting of me.

After that intro, Tony got to the meat of his letter, in which he gives us his choices to the AoWTT-Vol.II:

1) What three LIVING people from the South would you invite to your meal?

Man o man, what a tough question. I think I'd go with Ms. Rice, also (I'd love to see Ms Rice and Ms Clinton in a run for president in '08... my money would be on Ms Rice.), along with Ms Dolly Parton or Reba McEntire if Ms Parton was on tour. To finish off this trio I'd love to have Mr "Humpy" Wheeler in attendance.

2) In recognition of Faulkner's aphorism about the past not being dead and, in fact, not even being past, what three DEAD people from the South (aside from Faulkner) would you invite to your meal? (Assuming, of course, that they would not show up like extras from Dawn of the Dead , but rather would show up in the form they held before leaving their corporeal habitation and advancing to their ultimate reward.)

For this group I'd start off with Mr George Washington Carver, anybody so smart as to find that many uses for a peanut is worth more than one meal with. I have had two among many southern writers influence me greatly, Mr M Twain and Mr R A Heinlein. I guess I have to go with my first love in the world of books (SF) and pick RAH. Last but not least John Moses Browning--all the southern men who are alive today because of him makes him a "By God Southerner" in my book.

3) After the warm conviviality of your feast (A gumbo to start then my roast duck and finish off with a bourbon pecan tart ala' mode) has been deeply shared by all, what sort of postprandial parlor games would you employ to entertain your guests?

I think a small concert by the Dixie Dregs and 'Fess Longhair would round out the night well.

Good choices all. I think I like Dolly Parton better than Reba McEntire, although not just for the two obvious reasons. She had a tough upbringing similar to my folks', and manages to talk about it without a trace of bitterness or self-pity. Mr. Carver, too, is a good one--MaltaGirl had said she would invite an unspecified scientist or inventor, and I suggested him. Hard to get much better.

Before he signed off, Tony had another tip for me:

PS: Sheets of wax paper between frozen items does work, ya know.(mash, grind, rub, force, smutch, daub, batter fry and serve piping hot--I wouldn't want you to miss a synonym or two due to my failing.) Gator tears o' sympathy, also. I am a kind Chef, after all.

THIS IS KINDNESS!? (Man alive, I'd hate to see antipathy.)

No matter, though. Things are going to get better--I am in the process of bringing a multi-billion dollar class action lawsuit against the knife industry for marketing inherently dangerous products. And it's not about me, you know--it's for The ChildrenTM, so you know it's worthwhile and meaningful and earnest and sincere. These irresponsible merchants of death sell their wares with not so much as a knife lock to keep them from being used accidentally, and their products are sold with only ONE purpose in mind--TO CUT!! The beasts.

Although my share (which will only amount to a couple of hundred million dollars), won't erase my emotional and physical agony, it will be a way to show these vicious people the error of their ways. And maybe I can finally get that Sting Ray I've always wanted. And TiVo! And a new house!

Well, back to work for now.

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