Neil D on LJ

My New Year's Wish List

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 16:51:14 GMT

(with apologies to Augusten Burroughs)

My soul wants not tranquility and wisdom, but long, blond hair extensions that hang loosely down over my eyebrows and a ripped, liposuctioned stomach.

I want pec implants and a chemical peel.

I want Gucci loafers.

I want Rupert Everett to be in love with me, a Range Rover, and a new, small cell phone in my pocket.

I want facial plastic surgery to accentuate my dimples.

I want reservations. No, this is wrong. I want to be somebody who never needs reservations. I want my reservations to be unspoken, a given.

I want my nose to be the same shape, but smaller, more in proportion to my face. I want to be able to say, in that disinterested Valley way, Whatever.

If I can achieve all these things this year, next year I want to become a less vain and shallow person.

Wish me luck, and happy new year, everybody!

Farewell, Fruitcake Project

Wed, 30 Dec 2009 22:14:13 GMT

Well, The Fruitcake Project did not succeed in rescuing any unwanted fruitcakes this season. However, my friend Don (mister_don ) brought the season to a fitting conclusion by making a delicious steamed pudding that contained raisins, figs, nuts, and other fruits often found in fruitcake. It was, in essence, a fruitcake served warm with a dollop of hard sauce (basically butter and confectioner's sugar). And here is the result:



Don prepares to cut the steamed pudding	Don really knows how to serve!

Needless to say, the pudding was absolutely scrumptious and I can't thank Don enough for inviting me to share it. Don told me that he has many of his mother's heirloom recipes for steamed pudding, and he will share them with me. Thank you, Mister Don!

I was going to keep The Project running until Ephiphany (January 6), but, owing to an attack of hyperglycemia brought on by holiday excess, I am ending The Project until next Christmas season. Happy new year to all fruitcake lovers!

BGMC Holiday Concert

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 16:47:12 GMT

A blogger on Boston Theater Review gave our show a wonderful review. Everyone involved is extremely pleased the concerts were a big popular success. The show last Sunday afternoon was completely sold out, and the three other evening shows were 85 to 95 percent sold out. In fact, it was the best-selling show in BGMC history, so that's an achievement to be proud of.

During our warmup before the show last night, one of the hired musicians, a lady harpist of a certain age, shared a story with the group. Twenty-eight years ago when the BGMC was being formed, the director wanted to place an open call for auditions in the Boston Globe. This was long before the internets, and the Boston Globe was really the only place where you could list notices of upcoming concerts and auditions. But the paper would accept only listings that included a telephone number and a street address. This lady harpist was working at the Globe at the time and was in charge of compiling the list. The problem was that our organization was so new, the only phone number was the personal number of the director and the address was just a post office box. It's hard to believe now, but the climate of homophobia was so strong in 1981 that the chorus director was afraid to list his own telephone number, or even the address of the auditions, for fear of harassment or worse. But the lady harpist felt strongly that the listing should appear, so she talked to her editor and they finessed the newspaper's address policy so that "Boston" was sufficient.

And that was the beginning of the Boston Gay Men's Chorus, now 160 voices strong and firmly established in Boston's artistic and social scene. I simply can't say how proud I am to be part of this group. Every time I step on stage in my tux and hear the applause burst from the audience—and not just polite applause: hooting, hollering, screaming, cheering applause that makes the blood race and the adrenalin rush—I am totally thrilled.

But maybe the best thing is knowing that I am part of that sea change, even though I've been in the Chorus for only two years. I'm part of the change that I'm seeing in the world all around me, happening faster and faster. It's my part, like the bass part that I sing, so I need to learn it and do it well. Others are singing the same part, but it's my part nonetheless and it's important. Together we all sing better. And we're creating a more tolerant society through the power of music.

And here's a link to the Boston Theater Review if you want to read it:

http://www.bostontheatrereview.com/2009/12/our-home-for-the-holidays/

Thanks for listening!

Fruitcake Ridiculed!

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 22:27:18 GMT

Why does it always come down to THIS? Fruitcake ridiculed, a laughing stock, the butt of jokes.

Do YOU share these sentiments? Are YOU a fruitcake hater?

Please, I beg you, send your scorned fruitcakes to me:

The Fruitcake Project
11 Jay Street #2
Cambridge, MA 02139

Making the world safe for fruitcakes, one precious cake at a time

The First Fruitcake

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 16:49:00 GMT

Despite diligent research, the origin of the first fruitcake is impossible to trace. There are tantalizing hints of the existence of fruitcake in the ancient world in such diverse sources as the Egyptian Book of the Dead and the Babylonian Code of Hammurabi, but evidence of fruitcake as we know it today remains elusive.

Luckily, the origin of fruitcake in America has been fairly well documented. The first true fruitcake that we know of was baked by Myles Standish in 1621. Although we do not have the actual recipe, the cooking pot thought to have been owned by Myles Standish and presumably used to bake the First Fruitcake has been preserved and is on display at the Pilgrim Hall Museum in Plymouth, Massachusetts.


Captain Myles Standish,1584-1656 (courtesy of the Library of Congress)	Cooking pot owned by Myles Standish (courtesy Pilgrim Hall Museum)

We are unsure of the specific occasion for which the First Fruitcake was baked, but it is not unlikely that Captain Standish baked the confection as a reward to Squanto, a Patuxet Native American who resided with the Wampanoag tribe, who taught the Pilgrims how to catch eel and grow corn, and was present at the First Thanksgiving in 1621 (see photo below left).


Myles Standish and the Indians circa 1621	Image of the First Thanksgiving (with the First Fruitcake)

Unfortunately, the fruitcake did not appeal to Squanto, who refused to accept the gift, and it remained in the Standish family for some years to come. It probably made an appearance at the General Thanksgiving of 1623, where it temporarily graced the table of John and Priscilla Alden (see photo above right). The Aldens had no stomach for it either, and the fruitcake was returned to Captain Standish, soaked in rum from the West Indies for good measure.

Fleeting references to the First Fruitcake can be found in the annals of the Plymouth Bay Colony, but all that is known for certain is that, in his will dated October 3, 1652, Captain Standish bequeathed the Fruitcake “to his heirs in the male line, per stirpes, in perpetuity.” Thereafter, it was trotted out every Thanksgiving and passed around the Standish family table to be generally admired. As late as 1856, The Duxbury Gazetteer Intelligencer reported that Mr. Josiah Standish, a direct descendant of Captain Myles, was asked to sample the fruitcake, but refused “for the sake of generations yet unborn.”

The whereabouts of the First Fruitcake are currently unknown, whether it was in fact consumed during the Great Depression of the 1930s or simply subdivided so many times with each generation of Standishes that only a few crumbs remain. At one time there was a rumor that remnants of the First Fruitcake were hidden in a secret vault in the Town Hall of Duxbury, Massachusetts, where Captain Standish died in 1656, but this turned out to be a hoax.

This precious artefact of American gastronomic history may never be recovered. Nonetheless, the Fruitcake Project soldiers on. We will gladly accept all unwanted fruitcakes, of historical significance or otherwise, at:

The Fruitcake Project
11 Jay Street #2
Cambridge, MA 02139

Harry & David have fruitcake now!

Tue, 01 Dec 2009 22:57:55 GMT

Hey folks, remember Harry & David, those lovable guys who brought you the Fruit of the Month Club? With those delicious, sweet, succulent Royal Riviera® pears so big and juicy, you eat them with a spoon® (yes, even the tag line is a registered trademark)? [And if that isn't the most artificial-looking picture of pear juice (like, it looks like molded plastic or something?), I don't know what is!]

Well, guess what, those two fruity guys now have fruitcake! Yes!

The cake on the left is their Traditional Fruitcake, made with generous scoops of raisins, walnuts, cherries, and pineapple—delicately spiced with cloves, cinnamon, and a touch of ginger—then sweetened with a dollop of real molasses. [I get giddy when descriptions of food include the word "dollop"!] The one pound version is $19.95 (plus $4.95 shipping), and the two-pounder is $29.95 (plus $7.95 shipping). That's a lot of holiday cheer!

AND the mouthwatering creation on the right is called a Fruit Cake Confection, made from Harry's original 1947 recipe:¹ it's such a well-guarded secret, it's kept under lock and key! BUT Harry will divulge that the Fruit Cake Confection is LOADED with plenty of premium whole cherries, sweet golden pineapple, crisp English walnuts, and Southern pecans. The ingredients are so delicate, the batches so small, each confection is individually formed BY HAND! Then the fruit is gently folded with just enough light golden batter to hold it all together for easy slicing. OMG, I WANT THIS SO BAD!!!

The 2^3/4-pound Fruit Cake Confection will run you $34.95 (plus $8.95 shipping). The smaller, 1^1/2-pound version is only $24.95 (plus $6.95 shipping). But who would ever be happy with a SMALL one?

These cakes make wonderful gifts, especially for ME.

Fruitcake haters, if you receive any of these delicacies, I will happily accept your donations care of:

The Fruitcake Project
11 Jay Street #2
Cambridge, MA 02139

UPS ground shipping is fine!

¹ Note: If Harry was baking this fruitcake in 1947, he must be pretty old by now! But not as old as the Oldest Fruitcake in America, baked by Miles Standish in 1637, but that's a post for another day. Stay tuned!

Announcing: The Fruitcake Project

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 19:21:34 GMT

Dear Friends:

For many years I have suffered great distress at the thought of all the unwanted and orphaned fruitcakes in the world. In my opinion fruitcake is the most delicious confection ever created by man or womankind, the very acme of culinary art, and the cynosure of the dessert tray. And it grieves me to witness how they are demeaned, defamed, derided, degraded, deprecated, denigrated, disparaged, mocked, maligned, ridiculed, belittled, vilified, scorned, and openly scoffed at.

Every holiday season hundreds, thousands, and perhaps even millions of fruitcakes are thoughtlessly exchanged as unwanted gifts, only to languish in pantries, unwrapped and left to gather mold; or, even worse, trotted out and paraded as the butt of jokes, regifted to bosses or other enemies, set on fire, thrown through windows, used as doorstops, and abused in countless other ways.

So, to remedy this sad state of affairs, I am announcing today the creation of The Fruitcake Project. The Fruitcake Project is dedicated to rescuing all unwanted holiday fruitcakes throughout our Nation and the World. My appeal is to all fruitcake haters: If you receive unwanted fruitcakes as gifts, PLEASE do not abuse them. SEND THEM TO ME at this address:

Neil Dugas
11 Jay Street #2
Cambridge, MA 02139

I am making this personal appeal as a fruititarian gesture to rescue all orphaned and neglected fruitcakes. And, as proof of my total sincerity, I am making this pledge:

I PROMISE PERSONALLY TO EAT EVERY FRUITCAKE RECOVERED THROUGH THIS DONATION EFFORT.

For my friends in the British Isles, The Fruitcake Project embraces plum pudding, with or without Nesselrode sauce, and also the elusive figgy pudding. Any of these unwanted cakes and puddings are welcome to find safe haven under The Fruitcake Project umbrella.

The mission of The Fruitcake Project will extend through the holiday season to Epiphany 2010, after which a moratorium on fruitcake recovery efforts will be observed until the success of this initial season can be evaluated and medical attention received, if necessary.

Thank you so much for your participation in The Fruitcake Project.

Sincerely,
Neil Dugas, Founder and Director
The Fruitcake Project
Saving the world one fruitcake at a time

Ringraziamento

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 16:48:48 GMT

While I was on the treadmill at the gym this morning I was daydreaming about Thanksgivings past, and I remembered about five years ago I was playing the organ at a Congregational church somewhere in the Boston area, I honestly can't recall exactly where or when, but I'm sure it was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, so "thanksgiving" was the topic of the day.

In the Congregational churches, after the Time for Sharing Joys and Concerns, they often have a Children's Sermon (if there are enough children to warrant it), so this was the perfect opportunity to get the little boys and girls to say what they thought Thanksgiving was all about. The minister (a lady, as is more common than not nowadays, at least in these parts), quizzed the children about what they were thankful for.

"For food," one little girl immediately responded.

"We thank God for good food, that's right," Lady Minister said encouragingly.

"For my parents," said another little girl dutifully.

"We thank God for loving parents," Lady Minister echoed.

Then a little boy said, "I thank God" ... and he paused a moment ... "because I'm Italian!"

Shrieks of laughter erupted from the staid congregation. I couldn't see the little boy, so I couldn't tell if he was pleased with himself or embarrassed for having provoked such a dramatic response to his unselfconscious remark.

Anyway, it was a memorable moment. It was just so, so dimple-tweakingly cute in a way that only little boys can be.

Allora, felice ringraziamento a tutti!

-neil d.

Twilo Hunk Reveals Workout Secrets!

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 14:54:38 GMT

So I read a tabloid interview with Twilo star Kellan Lutz where he talked about going to the gym and stuff. The 24-year-old North Dakota native says that his trick to keeping focused is to make a game out of it. He brings a deck of cards with him to the gym, and on every card he writes a different exercise. Then he shuffles the deck and deals a hand, and whatever set of exercises comes up is his workout for the day. He finds that the capricious randomness of it makes it fun and keeps him motivated.

[He also talked about being on a film shoot in Africa and had no weights to work out with, so he used 200-pound rocks! How Alley Oop is that? The man is a paragon of bench pressing for a reason!]

I was SO FASCINATED by this revelation that I told my trainer about it, which prompted a whole discussion about what exercises I could write down on my set of cards. I am FASCINATED by this concept, FASCINATED I tell you!

And speaking of FASCINATION, did you all know that the origin of the word is the Latin fascina, which was a good luck charm that little Roman boys were given at birth. The charm was a little box which contained a replica of a penis. I guess the idea was to encourage the little boys to grow a nice big penis, much like putting decoy eggs in the roosts of a hen house encourages the hens to lay eggs. (My apologies to those who didn't grow up on a farm.)

I can't find any reference to prove this (and I am DETERMINED to find one), but I REMEMBER reading about it somewhere. I can't recall what happened to the little box, whether the boys discarded it when they reached puberty (and presumably didn't need a replica of a penis because they had a real, full-grown one), or whether it was baked in a pie and eaten, or what, BUT THIS IS A TRUE FACTOID FOR EVERYONE TO KNOW.

Those Romans, they really knew from fetishes.

Steamboat Willie

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 18:41:19 GMT

On November 18, 1928, Walt Disney's first sound-synchronized animated cartoon, Steamboat Willie, starring Mickey Mouse, premiered in New York. It lasted 7 minutes and 45 seconds.

Gee, Mickey, you don't look a day over 80!

Joplin and Company

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 19:18:41 GMT

On Saturday we celebrated my friend Paul's very happy 60^th unbirthday, which was a good opportunity to take more pictures of my little friend Joplin. Take a look!

The Great Pyramid of Hurteau: Paul (top), Neil (right), Joplin (left)


Paul shows off his ink.	Paul has about 20 tattoos!

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My little boy.	He's so cute!

Jon. Um.

Gym Fail and Flail

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 19:32:18 GMT

So today I had training with the ever-helpful and überzealous Ryan, and it was a fairly easy workout. I think he's afraid of hurting me. So after the kettle bell swings, TRX band rows, step-ups, bench presses, planks, and bosu ball balances, we concluded with my usual five minutes on the rowing machine. I put my towel on the seat, strapped my feet into the footrests and pushed off. Except that my towel jammed in the mechanism under the seat and the rowing machine came to a dead halt. Ryan tried to remove the towel, but my ass was planted too firmly on it, and it just wouldn't budge. I tried to lift myself off of the seat, but didn't have enough strength, so I toppled over onto the floor, my feet still strapped into the footrests, flailing helplessly. Ryan had to pick me up by the armpits and plant me back on the seat. Ryan is strong like ox. We laughed. Oh the hilarity and the embarrassment! I'm sure I'm the only man who ever fell off of the rowing machine no more than four inches off the ground. I certainly hope the hidden cameras at the gym didn't catch that one!

Lou Albano, July 29, 1933 – October 14, 2009

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 13:13:20 GMT

"Captain" Lou Albano was a fixture in pro wrestling for 30 years since, as part of the tag-team "The Sicilians," he won the U.S. Tag Team Championship in 1967. In the early 1970s, Albano transformed himself from a heavyweight wrestler into the brash, bombastic manager Captain Lou Albano. With a quick wit and a grating personality, Albano became wrestling's most villainous manager.

In the early 1980s, Albano appeared in Cyndi Lauper's music videos for her hit songs "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," "She Bop," and "The Goonies 'R' Good Enough." Capitalizing on his success in the music industry, Albano began appearing in television and film projects. In the late 1980s, Albano appeared in Hulk Hogan's Rock 'n' Wrestling, 227, Miami Vice, Brian De Palma's Wiseguys, and the 1987 wrestling movie Body Slam.

In March 1989, on Live with Regis and Kathie Lee, Albano had his trademark beard shaved on the air in order to star as the iconic video game character Mario in The Super Mario Bros. Super Show!. He starred in live action segments during interludes of the Mario cartoon, as well as providing the voice of his animated counterpart.

In his heyday as a fatguy wrestler (billed height and weight: 5'10", 350 pounds), Albano was majorly hot. But during the 1990s he shed 150 pounds following a health scare. In May 2005, he suffered a heart attack but later recovered. In 2008 he released his autobiography, Often Imitated, Never Duplicated, with the foreword written by Cyndi Lauper.

Born in Rome, Italy, Albano was one of five children. Albano's brother, Carl, taught health for 32 years at Ridgewood High School in Ridgewood, New Jersey, and in his lectures often used his brother Lou as an example of the difference between crazy and unique.

I saw him wrestle in the Boston Garden once. I can't remember when that was, probably some time in the 1980s, but I remember I went JUST to see him. He died at age 76. He was a trooper.

New Jacket

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 16:45:33 GMT

Look who has a new varsity jacket! Thanks for the tip, Muffin Man!

Owl City

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 04:03:36 GMT

Saw Owl City at the Lansdowne Pub, and it was a blast. MUCH more congenial than KMFDM. This is MY kind of music!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aI4JLa0hbUw

Auto-Tune the News!

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 04:13:27 GMT

I think this is the funniest thing since Robot Chicken.

Doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo

Fri, 02 Oct 2009 17:14:20 GMT

The Twilight Zone created and hosted by Rod Serling ran its first episode on the CBS network 50 years ago today, October 2, 1959. A.Ma.Zing.

Better Living through Dentistry

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 18:26:18 GMT

Let's hear it for William T.G. Morton!

Hip-hip!
Hip-hip!
Hip-hip HOORAY!

Not excited yet? After everything William T.G. Morton has done for you? How soon you forget! Because it was on this day, September 30, in the year 1846 that William T.G. Morton, a Boston dentist, demonstrated publicly for the first time the use of inhaled ether as a surgical anesthetic. He performed a painless extraction of an ulcerated tooth from the merchant Eben Frost. I bet old Eben was mighty grateful!

Just two weeks later on October 16, Boston surgeon Henry Bigelow arranged for a demonstration of ether at the Massachusetts General Hospital. At this demonstration Dr. John Warren painlessly removed a tumor from the neck of a Mr. Edward Abbott. There is a monument commemerating the event in the Boston Public Garden near Arlington Street. The inscription reads:

"To commemorate the discovery that the inhaling of ether causes insensibility
to pain first proved to the world at the Mass. General Hospital in Boston
October A.D. MDCCCXLVI"

It's interesting to note that at first ether was called "Letheon" after the mythological river of Hades; those who drank from it experienced complete forgetfulness.

So, the next time you listen to the Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated," mumble a prayer of thanks, however incoherent, to old William T.G. Morton. He has enhanced all our lives immeasurably!

Right here, right now

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 18:16:48 GMT

I have a BGMC performance after work today, so I came to work dressed. This is what I usually wear to church these days, instead of a suit. The blazer is a little big, but it's OK. My office has nice windows with a view of the office park and the beginnings of our splendid fall foliage.

KMFDM

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 03:24:33 GMT

I saw the metal band KMFDM at the House of Blues in Kenmore Square last night, September 26, and it was an experience. This kind of music is really not to my taste. If there's no melody and no harmony, I'm really not interested. Basically, the music is all about percussion and angry lyrics, the more offensive the better. The drummer was definitely the star of the show. And I can see why he has the biceps he has. Man, did he get a workout! The band comprises five members: two vocalists, two guitarists, and the drummer. One of the singers is a chick. That makes it more interesting—it takes only one chick to balance a stage full of dudes.

Traditionally, the roots of their genre is industrial rock, but I would say they are more speed metal now. Very abrasive, oppressive, and LOUD. I had to wear earplugs. And one hour was all I could take.

But it bought a nifty t-shirt, which I will wear happily.

A resounding boo

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 14:31:44 GMT

The opening night (September 21) audience greeted the Metropolitan Opera's new production of Tosca with resounding boos! Opera fans can be more vicious than sports fans: sometimes they are out for blood. Just goes to show you that it's not all top hats and croutons.

Happy birthday to me

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 04:00:23 GMT

Who is this adorable little boy?

Yup, that's me. On the left I was age 4. And I still comb my hair exactly the same way. In the middle I'm maybe 5, and on the right I was a bit older, maybe 7 or 8. Totes adorbz, right?

Well, my birthday is September 19 and I was born in 1950, so that makes the math pretty easy to do. I put together a few pictures of myself through the years, so feel free to look, laugh, and comment!

Here I am around age 7 with my brother Kevin—I remember that Buick with its white sidewall tires—and age 12 with my sister Jane at my Confirmation. Addams Family comes to mind.

OMG Seventies! I think I was in college here, so maybe age 22 or so, with my cousin Janice. There's something very ominous about this picture other than my bell bottoms and mismatched jacket.

Age 25 or so. This is one of my favorite pictures, obviously taken after one of my crash diets. And I was quite the chef too. Here I am serving up some kind of fish on a platter, and quite pleased with myself. I used to work in restaurants when I was in high school, and kind of learned how to cook by osmosis. At least I learned how to decorate food. Presentation is key. (I was almost kinda sorta handsome then, what?)

Age 32-33. In the middle is me and my boyfriend Bob looking askance. I met Bob the summer before I turned 33, and he was 41. On the right is a picture he took of me in the car. Sexy, right? On the left is me in a photo booth. Big moustaches were in, what can I say?

Around the same time, with my cousin Fred, in Nova Scotia. This is the only time in my life I wore sunglasses. Flannel is timeless, right?

Age 41. Happy times with my buddy Carl at Girth & Mirth Convergence in Boston. Our club hosted the event, and I was on the staff. I was recruited into the club to be a worker bee.

Age 44 or so. G&M was over, so now I was in the New England Bears club. Actually, I was never an official member, just a hanger on. For some reason I thought a leather jacket would do the trick.

Age 50 or so with my old college pal Rick. I've gained noticeably in embonpoint. I think I gained most of the weight since I was 45, when I was diagnosed with skin cancer and quit smoking.

The only thing this entry lacks is a picture of me today. If I get one taken over the weekend, I will put it up!

Stick with What You're Good At: Nero and Nico

Wed, 16 Sep 2009 16:13:19 GMT


Nero	Nico

Sometimes when I’m dissatisfied with my life the way it is, I take comfort in pondering the fate of Nero and Nico, two people who had little in common other than their wrong-headed aspirations.

The Emperor Nero ruled the Roman Empire for 14 years in the middle of the first century (54 to 68 A.D. to be exact). Coming to the throne at age 17, he was at first quite popular. But Nero’s problem was that he didn’t want to be Emperor. He wanted to be an actor – more than anything else, he craved attention. Discontented with the role of Emperor and its almost limitless power and wealth, he applied all his diligence to practicing the craft of acting, and, it was said, ate leek soup every day to improve his speaking voice.

At first he appeared on the stage only for private audiences; but, beginning in the year 65, he started performing in public. He appeared as an actor and singer in a festival held in his honor in Naples, and two years later at the Olympic Games in Greece, where he took part in acting and horse racing competitions. But he was so nervous in acting a scene that he dropped a prop and forgot several lines, becoming so flustered that he walked off the stage before the end of the play. He also raced a ten-horse chariot and nearly died after being thrown from it. Despite these poor showings, the Olympic judges cannily awarded him the first prize in every competition he had entered. Not satisfied with this prestige alone, Nero also demanded the cash prizes that went with the laurel wreath, since he needed the money to complete building his fabled Golden House on the Esquiline Hill in Rome, and every resource had to be tapped.

Nero was reputed to have extravagant vices, and was notorious for his deviant sexual escapades (although, to be fair, it is impossible today to tell which are truth, exaggeration, or outright slander). It is undeniably true that he fell in love with the beautiful Poppea, and divorced his aristocratic wife Octavia to marry her. But later Poppea became pregnant with Nero’s child and, during a lover’s quarrel, he kicked her so violently in the belly that it caused her death.

It was alleged that he had an incestuous relationship with his mother, Agrippina the Younger. But when her influence became intolerable, he decided to have her killed. At first he planned to have her drowned at sea in a collapsible boat constructed for the purpose. The boat duly capsized but, being a strong swimmer, Agrippina swam safely ashore. Nero then sent his guards to stab her to death. Seeing his mother’s body naked on the beach, Nero commented on her physical attributes, discoursing on her good and bad qualities, and comparing her to other women he had enjoyed.

All these perversions would have been tolerated by the Roman populace, but the specter of an Emperor singing and performing on the stage as an actor was insupportable. Following the Great Fire of Rome in July 64, his popularity waned until the Senate decided he had to go, and declared him a public enemy. Nero fled to a suburban villa with only a few servants and committed suicide by stabbing himself in the throat. His famous last words were, “Qualis artifex pereo” (variously translated as “I die – and such a great artist!” or “What an artist the world is losing!”) Poor Nero, self-deluded to the end, a tragic figure. He was only 30 years old.

If you are moved to pity and fear by Nero’s fate, consider also the beautiful fashion model Nico (born Christa Päffgen in Cologne, Germany in 1938). Possibly the fashion world’s first supermodel, Nico started her career in Berlin, then moved to Paris to work for Vogue, Tempo, Elle, and other fashion magazines in the late 1950s. She appeared in television ads hawking yogurt (when yogurt was marketed as “health food”), and, in 1959, met the Italian film director Federico Fellini, who gave her a small role in La Dolce Vita.

In the 1960s she moved to New York to take acting classes with Lee Strasberg. Soon she became involved with Andy Warhol, who cast her in Chelsea Girls, and started singing with The Velvet Underground, a band managed by Warhol, that included Lou Reed. Through Warhol she met many influential songwriters and musicians, including Jim Morrison of The Doors, Brian Jones of the Roling Stones, Bob Dylan, Iggy Pop, and Jackson Browne. She became romantically involved with several of these, and, in the case of Dylan and Browne, they wrote songs for her to help her career.

Nico had two problems: 1) she hated her own beauty, because she felt that men would not take her seriously; and 2) instead of being a model, an occupation for which she was perfectly suited, she wanted to be a musician, for which she had absolutely no talent whatsoever. John Cale of The Velvet Underground described Nico as “tone deaf”; despite this, she sang lead vocals on three songs and backing vocals on another on the band’s 1967 debut record, The Velvet Underground & Nico.

Perhaps the most shattering evidence of her lack of talent is her solo recording of the song These Days, written for her by Jackson Browne. It was featured prominently in the soundtrack to Wes Anderson’s 2001 film The Royal Tenenbaums, and if you need any proof of her utter lack of vocal ability, download it and have a listen.

Sometime in the 1970s Nico became a heroin addict, and her behavior became increasingly erratic. She acted in a number films with French director Philippe Garrel, toured with musicians Brian Eno and Tangerine Dream, and continued to perform in New York punk scene venues, notably CBGB and the Mudd Club. Some of her shows received good reviews; but more often, it seemed, audiences attended her strung-out performances simply to see if the former Warhol Superstar would fall into the orchestra pit.

She died in July 1988 as the result of a bicycle accident in Ibizza, Spain while vacationing with her son by French actor Alain Delon. She was 49.

My little friend

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 01:34:51 GMT

Hey everybody, I have a new little friend, and his name is Joplin.

He really is little. I'd say he's about three and a half feet tall ...

... and he just turned five years old. He is my friend Paul's older grandson. He's such a clever little boy. I met him over the July 4 holiday, and we took to each other right away. As we were getting acquainted, I knelt down on the floor so I could be closer to his stature. And you know what he said? He said, "I know why they call you Neil because that's what you do!" I swear, I'm not making this up, he actually said that.

Well, of course, a five-year-old who is capable of making such high-level puns is a little guy I want to get to know better. And when he found out that our birthdays are in the same month, he immediately invited me to his birthday party. Only five, and already big with the invitations!

So of course I went to his birthday party, and I gave him a small gift, a kind of coloring book. I wanted to give him something artsy, because I knew he loves Spiderman and that he would be showered with superhero-themed aggressive toys. (Did you ever realize that action figures are just aggressive dolls for boys, rather than nurturing dolls for girls?) Sure enough, his favorite toy was a Wolverine claw glove that makes metallic slicing noises when deployed. And he also got a nifty red bicycle. Boy, oh boy, did he love that!

So, I have this fantasy that I want to adopt a little boy. I just love little boys (okay, not pervy, so shut up!), but only between the ages of say 5 and 11. I really don't think I could deal with a teenager, so when the kid hit 12 or so, he'd have to go back to the orphanage. I know it's completely unrealistic, but, um, that's what fantasies are, right?

Consultspeak Word of the Day

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 13:30:38 GMT

In-the-trenches experiences

Use in a sentence:

We not only understand the policy-level implications and challenges faced by both highway and transit agencies to integrate livability and environmental justice considerations into transportation practice, but also have in-the-trenches experiences at state, regional, and local levels to understand the importance of cross-jurisdictional collaboration to achieve outcomes.

"In-the-trenches experiences"! This ranks with "boots on the ground" as one my favorite militaristic metaphors. Who makes this stuff up?