Morning Italian jobs

May 20, 2025

(This will, somewhat surprisingly, eventually veer into men’s bodies and some man-on-man sex, recounted in street language, so it’s not for kids or the sexually modest; I’m sorry, but not even the best of Verdi opera and Italian tennis can quite counterbalance naked guys going at it with one another)

Today’s morning names were Rigoletto and Sinner, and for a change I knew exactly why they were in my head: Rigoletto is the name of an opera by Verdi (from which the magnificent quartet Bella figli dell’amore was playing on my music feed during my 2 am whizz break); and Sinner is the surname of someone who turns out to be an astoundingly famous Italian tennis player but was known to me only from a Sergio Scalise Facebook posting yesterday in which this Sinner was identified as a great champion who does commercials for De Cecco, Lavazza, and La Roche — I am, famously, deeply ignorant of sports; and also, despite Sergio’s occasional attempts at educating me, neglectfully ignorant of matters social, cultural, and political in today’s Italy (I’m not merely not au courant, but actually inert). This is Jannik Sinner; I had never laid eyes on him until this morning (I’ve been entertained by a recent Lavazza commercial, but it’s one for the American audience and doesn’t have Jannik Sinner in it). I go on at such length about JS because my readers from or connected to Italy will find it impossible to believe that I had no idea who Sinner — that athletic and cultural phenom — is.

Now, the coming program: about Rigoletto, briefly; about Jannik Sinner, at greater length, with a note about Lavazza coffee commercials; a side note about Google searches; and then a raunchy digression on the Italian jobs of the title.

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Ravel’s boletus

May 20, 2025

In my dream, the boletes begin, inconspicuously, at the north corner of my garden strip and then pop up more insistently, in larger stands, moving in time through the strip, until they explode in a spray of spores at the south end. Yes, it’s Ravel’s Bolero, done in fungi. (Here on YouTube, from the 2014 BBC Proms, the West–Eastern Divan Orchestra conducted by Daniel Barenboim performs the piece. Which I have enjoyed unashamedly since I was a kid, 75 years ago.)

There is a reality behind the dream; as I posted on Facebook yesterday (in an expanded text):

— It’s suddenly warm and humid, so boletes — boletus mushrooms — have sprung up all over my garden. Fungi on the march! (Previously, they’d been a September / October phenomenon, but May seems to work for them too.)

They did appear first at the northern end, right where I can see them from my worktable.

There are, presumably, spores everywhere, spores all over the place, held in a suspended state for years, just waiting for the right conditions to sprout into fruiting fungal bodies.

(No, they don’t actually explode, just shrivel up and release their spores as they disappear from view.)

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Standing Male Nude (Study of Tony Asserati)

May 19, 2025

(A significant work of art, but, yes, a (full frontal) male nude, so not to everyone’s taste.)

Encountered on Pinterest yesterday, a striking oil painting by Duncan Grant, from about 1935, of the model Tony Asserati, self-possessed and comfortable in his body (as Grant was in his). Painted by Grant in a time in the UK when homosexuality was a serious criminal offence, so sexual relations between men — of which Grant had an astounding number (he’s reported to have maintained that he would have relations with any man who would have him) — had to be scrupulously concealed. As Grant’s were, under the protective umbrella of the Bloomsbury Group.

To which I will now turn, before going on to Duncan Grant’s life and works (featuring the Asserati portrait).

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Four scored

May 18, 2025

Today’s Pearls Before Swine (by Stephan Pastis), with one of the cartoonist’s formula pun jokes (in a set-up / pay-off format):


(#1) The 5/18/25 strip “Four Scored”: Rat engages in a wandering conversation with his neighbor Nancy, then summarizes their talk for Pig, in a gigantic complex pun on the beginning of Abraham Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address”; in the last (meta) panel, Lincoln appears, to shame the cartoonist for his outrage

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J.R. Ross and his cowboy poetry

May 17, 2025

In memoriam John Robert Ross (May 7, 1938 to May 13, 2025). The news of Haj’s death came in my morning e-mail on Wednesday 5/14, right next to a Bizarro cartoon with a cowboy joke / restaurant joke, turning on an absurd pun on ranch dressing that Haj (who was a walking library of jokes) would have appreciated, and so with a synchronicity that Haj would have delighted in.

J.R. Ross was an outsized figure in linguistics, whose ideas (beginning with his 1967 MIT dissertation, Constraints on Variables in Syntax) altered the field. Haj Ross was a literally outsized person physically, a large, blocky man (he really did play football for Yale as an undergraduate) with a big presence. And Haj, no surname needed, had an outsized personality — endlessly imaginative, enormously funny, astonishingly empathetic and gentle, “big and sparkly” (me on Facebook), with “an amazing facility for the intricacies of English” (John Beavers on FB) and “an innocent sense of wonder about language, poetry, and the world” (Susan Fischer on FB). And resolutely counter-cultural (often barefooted, and rarely standing on ceremony), also attuned to all the Zen-inflected frequencies on your radio dial.

He was a good friend of mine, and an inspiration to me, from 1963 on. So this posting is hard to write. I will collect myself and pick out some facts, some assortment of outrageous anecdotes, a small selection of his poetry and artwork, and even (since, like Haj, I’m hopelessly a linguist) a note about a neglected feature of his work on syntax that I think is important in the intellectual history of the field. I will do all that in another posting, I hope tomorrow.

Today I’ll start the way Haj often started his public presentations. With a joke, that Bizarro cartoon (remember the cartoon?). From which a Google AI Overview search then led me, goofily, into a strange dusty canyon of verse, Jim Ross’s self-published Pull Up a Chair: Cowboy Poetry. Truly, Haj would have loved that.

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The week of fiery hot

May 16, 2025

My soups tend to go on and on, getting altered with each new day. Soup of the evening, endless soup.
— AMZ on 8/14/24, in “Los pozoles, como el sexo”

The week begins on Monday 5/12, with a delivery order of  magic chili prawns from the Amazing Wok on Laurel St., in San Carlos. That was Day 1:


mcp from the Amazing Wok menu: shrimp plus an assortment of incendiary peppers, bright red and dark red and deep green, in chunks, right at the top end of bearability; my lips burned just short of real pain, tears streamed from my eyes, it was wonderful

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Stay the course

May 15, 2025

Stay strong, and stay the course.

In today’s mail came my Stand Up and Stand Out t-shirt for racial justice. Deliberately designed (by me) with an understated message — Edmund Pettus Bridge — in serious muted colors and an elegant font, not in the neon colors and tough sans serif fonts of my in-your-face queer t-shirts (today’s is just a rainbow QUEER shirt, but yesterday’s was a neon pink BIG FAG, and an equally obtrusive FAGGOT is up for tomorrow):


The professor in his home lair, sun streaming in from the garden outside (photo by my caregiver J, who today had to endure my recollections of †Haj Ross from 1963 on and many more stories from my life, plus my impassioned summary of the history of American racial (in)justice from the Emancipation Proclamation through this week)

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Batman’s suicide bombers

May 14, 2025

The Batman from Batman Returns (1992), his suicide bombers — don’t feel bad if you don’t remember, the plot was extraordinarily busy (details below) — were penguins. Mind-controlled penguins.

And of course they inspired toys. That was over three decades ago, so the toys are now collectibles. Plastic surprises that the South Dakota Department of Propaganda satire/parody website (“Lies to Tell the Truth, Truth to Tell Lies”) has mocked, as Michael Palmer informed me this morning:


(#1) Batman Returns Penguin Commando action figures made by Kenner, marketed in 1991-92 (from the SDDP site)

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“a home run is a high fly that goes out of the park”

May 13, 2025

The first thing you need to know about this sentence from Baseball English —

a home run is a high fly that goes out of the park

is that I said it. If you know me at all well, you know that I am deeply, fabulously ignorant of sports — because I am deeply, fabulously uninterested in sports. And yet I uttered this Baseball English sentence, and I understood that it was, in fact, a pretty good definition of the technical term of baseball home run, and I was stunned. This stuff has seeped into my very being.

But why, you ask was I, of all people, defining home run. In fact, I was defining it for someone who turns out to be a genuine baseball fan, someone who knows tons of stuff about the game. But, alas, all in Baseball Spanish, which, despite the fact that the game is called beisbol (a transparent borrowing from English) in it, has an almost entirely home-made vocabulary, so that Baseball English might as well be Quechua or Mixtec.

Ok, you persist in asking, why was I trying to talk about baseball at all, never mind the English vs. Spanish thing.

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The last days of spring

May 13, 2025

Locally, the signs that spring is coming to an end here in Palo Alto CA accumulate around this time; I suggest that Fred Astaire’s (1899) birthday, on 5/10, would be an appropriate occasion for looking forward to the arrival of summer. The plants in my immediate environment have sent the signals:

— the magenta Pelargonium peltatum (“ivy-leaved geranium”) plants by the entrance to my condo are suddenly covered with blossoms

— the cat’s-claw creeper vine / cat’s claw trumpet vine, Dolichandra unguis-cati, on the arbor over the entryway went from a few bright yellow flowers to a solid bank of yellow overnight (which will drop to the ground in a few days, to be replaced, eventually, by long seedpods)

— the calla lilies on the street, a few doors north of me, have finished blooming and are now dying back, to go into dormancy until next spring

— on my patio, the last cymbidium orchids are still blooming, for maybe a few more weeks, when their blossoms, too, will drop off in the summer heat and the plants will go into dormancy

— and also out there in the container garden, the first big-leaved hydrangea (Hydrangea macrophylla) flower cluster is about to open into bright pink, in two or three days (that cluster, on a great big plant in a great big pot, now stands at my eye level)

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