Archive for the ‘Events and occasions’ Category

Send in the rabbits

September 1, 2026

(bodily unpleasantness, much of it in street language, so likely to be offensive to many readers)

šŸ…Ā šŸ…Ā šŸ… tiger tiger tiger for terminal August; send in the rabbits of September, and we can marvel (with Stephen Sondheim)Ā Isn’t it rich? / Isn’t it queer? — that we should come to this time of the yearĀ 

Yes, this is getting out a day late, but I have an excuse. It’s both painful to hear about — involving 12 hours of excruciating pain for me — Ā and deeply revolting — well, literally shitty — Ā so I’m having trouble framing the story for you. Then, as a kind of ghastly sideshow, various pieces of essential software (Facebook is mostly to blame) simply stopped working as they should, making it impossible for me to make my blog postings available through FB. All together, giving the Lost Blogging Day of 8/31.

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Low spark

September 1, 2026

šŸ‡ šŸ‡ šŸ‡ rabbit rabbit rabbit for September, in the middle of another run of AZ-connected birthdays (not of famous people, however admirable; but of (still living) people who are important to me): 8/27 Ken Rudolph of soc.motss (85); 8/30 Ellen Sulkis James, a long-ago companion of mine on the staff of the Reading (PA) Eagle (86); 8/31 Benita Bendon Campbell, dear friend since Princeton in the 1960s and my connection to the late Ann Daingerfield (Zwicky) (90); 9/2 Mike Jankulak of soc.motss (57); and 9/6, yes, me (86)

9/1 came to me with a morning name:Ā The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys — from what experiential or mental source I know not. But with a shiver of delight.

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A gross hybrid

August 20, 2026

The Wayno / Piraro Bizarro of today (8/20), depicting a preposterous cartoon event:


It’s a Renaissance Faire and a Ren & Stimpy Show animated cartoon (if you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Wayno says there are 3 in this strip — see this Page)

A crossing of the decorously ornamental and the enthusiastically down-and-dirty.

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The birthday of doom

August 13, 2026

Coming up in about three weeks, my birthday of doom:

2026 – 1940 = 86. A bad omen. As in NOAD:

verb eighty-six (alsoĀ 86):Ā [with object]Ā North American English informal 1 eject or bar (someone) from a restaurant, bar, etc.: they were accused of cheating, and eighty-sixed from their favorite casino.Ā 2Ā reject, discard, or cancel:Ā the passwords will be 86ed by next October.Ā ORIGINĀ 1930sĀ (as a noun, used in restaurants and bars to indicate that a menu item is unavailable or that a customer is notĀ to beĀ served): perhaps rhyming slang forĀ nix ‘nothing’.

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77

August 3, 2026

Very briefly noted:

double lucky: Eleanor Severin Houck, the youngest of the 12 grandchildren of Melchior Arnold and Bertha Waelti Zwicky (hence the youngest of my cousin cohort), is 77 tomorrow

Eleanor’s older siblings, Wilma and Ted, served as stand-in older siblings for me when I was a child. In particular, despite the fact that Ted and I had almost no interests in common, he was a good man and a thoughtful and supportive brother-equivalent. Then, eventually, Eleanor came along, and we became adult friends; for years now, still back in the Pennsylvania Dutch farm country, she has borne the burden of being related to someone as outlandish as I am, with grace, good will, concern, and a healthy sense of humor. She also, significantly, keeps track of the family news.

I am pleased to be related to her, though still surprised at 77. On the other hand, the 9-year difference in our ages that was so enormous when we were kids is just a wrinkle now.

 

Aaron Broadwell, the sequel

August 1, 2026

šŸ‡šŸ‡šŸ‡ rabbit rabbit rabbit to inaugurate August, with a leporine shout-out to remember 1291, the traditional date of the formation of the Swiss federation: Hail, Helvetia!

Now to dive into today’s topic in medias res, with this 7/30 Facebook greeting from Pietro Giovanni to Aaron Broadwell on the occasion of AB’s 64th birthday, somewhere around that time:

Many returns of the day to my favorite linguist

AB is George Aaron Broadwell (known as Aaron Broadwell), Elling Eide Professor of Anthropology at the Univ. of Florida (Gainesville). PG is AB’s husband Peter Marino under the pseudonym Pietro Giovanni. For further complexity, since there are a regrettably large number of men named Peter Marino, some of them famous in their fields, Peter Marino uses the nickname Piet as his professional name; Piet Marino is the author of young adult novels (Dough Boy and Magic and Misery):


(#1) The Piet Marino logo

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Tigers, rabbits, National Day

July 31, 2026

šŸ…šŸ…šŸ… tiger tiger tiger taking out July; the rabbits of August will soon leap in, bringing us Swiss National Day

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Mononga Hela!

July 1, 2026

šŸ‡ šŸ‡ šŸ‡ rabbit rabbit rabbit, the sultry bunnies of July! But they are no match for Mononga Hela, the monstrous snake that swallows fat Carnegie melons, prodigious feral boars, and of course entire railway trains whole — the fearsome creature that in popular lore is said to have consumed all of western Pennsylvania in a fit of pique. Mononga Monga Ooga Gila Hellmouth!

But first, the Zippy strip from 6/27:


Beyond spelling: Zippy appreciates the power of the name Monongahela; and of courseĀ potrzebie, but the word for the day is Monongahela

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We believe

June 30, 2026

šŸ… šŸ… šŸ… tiger tiger tiger to bring June to a close, anticipating the hot summer rabbits of July

In the days of the Arnold and Isaac Seminars on Belief that have animated my Ramona St. condo in recent months — Isaac’s a deeply pious fundamentalist Fijian Christian and I’m an amiable non-believer, with an excellent early life in mainstream, socially progressive American Lutheran and Episcopal churches — every so often we hit a note that resonates deeply for both of us. In my 6/24 posting “Jesus pyjamas, and a sweatshirt”, we discovered that we both found the parable of the lost sheep (told in the gospels of both Matthew and Luke) particularly moving.

A bit before this, I astounded Isaac by being able to (still) reel off great chunks of the Nicene Creed from memory, but broke up at one point in an excess of emotion over two words. And discovered that Isaac thought those two words were in fact the point of the creed, a distillation of transcendent faith in unseen marvels. Underlined in the extract below (there are variations in the text, so this might not be exactly as you remember it; and remember that this is a translation into English):

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Fathers Day, the survey

June 21, 2026

(about the holiday, and masculinity, and enough man-on-man sex to make this posting out of bounds for kids and the sexually modest)

First take: the long pan. From my 6/16/19 postingĀ ā€œOn this day in 2019ā€:

(US) Fathers Day. For some of us, this is a day to remember our fathers with affection. I’m one of the lucky ones; I’ve written about mine several times, most extensively inĀ myĀ 1/30/11 postingĀ ā€œIt Gets Better / Wonderful dadā€.

It’s also an American commercial holiday that might better be labeled Masculinity Day, aimed at selling things stereotypically associated with high masculinity in either the upper middle class or the working class; elaboration on this point inĀ myĀ 6/10/18 Ā posting ā€œGearing up for Fathers Dayā€. [AZ: I am largely alienated from American normative masculinity, have been as long as I can remember, so have gone my own way, on a path of homomasculinity, where both my sociocultural affiliations and my sexual desires take me off the broad highway and into the steamy jungle underbrush]

And then through its role as Masculinity Day and through complex associations involving gay men and fathers, Fathers Day is also a high holiday for gay porn, with at least three different themes: sex between father and son; Daddy-Boy relationships; and sex involving older men — calledĀ daddies — especially, very muscular ones. [AZ: of the three themes, only Daddy / Boy works for me, and that’s a recent discovery: in this world of sexual fantasy, despite my advanced age, I turn out to be, as we say there, a very good Boy; there is, apparently, always space for pleasant surprises]

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