NOTE: there was a big Bleat yesterday - there's always a Bleat! - but I forgot to change the index code. Remember, you can always fiddle with the date in the address bar, or use the links on the index redirect. My apologies.

Once again, thanks to everyone who bought a ticket in or out of our airport. A small portion was directed to a noise abatement program for the houses under the flight path. Today I went to the design consultation portion of the refitting. Step one included a team inspecting the house to see what needed to be done, and these guys are full-bore Jurassic Park Founder Mode: SPARE NO EXPENSE! Step two consists of approving an incredibly detailed list of what’s going to be done. Do you want the UI-232 ingrain flush composite grommits? Uh - why yes, I've heard good things.

Step three: a walk-through to inspect again with lasers! and make the final measure. Step four: the construction people show up, swap out the windows, seal everything up, install a new ventilation system, double-seal the skylights, stain the wood, polish the brightwork, and so on.

Phase One began seven years ago, I think. They did the downstairs windows. I thought that was the last of it, and did not expect the Airport Commission to call me up unsolicited and say "sorry about the delay, but we're ready to give you 32 more windows now." Huh? Yes, it's Phase Two! Another five-year project. My involvement began last fall -Meetings, pdfs, forms, inspectors, rules, and as you might expect, innumerable regs to meet to the exact letter.

All this to replace just windows in a small portion of houses in one area of a city that comprises a small fraction under 1% of the entire number of buildings in the area.

At one point today the design guy said they had a standard door handle for the storm door, but the construction team would present me with several alternative upgrades, if I wished, for an extra cost of $90.

I gave him a dead level look.

“Are you serious? Ninety dollars? I have to pay for that? I know I’m getting every window in my house replaced for no cost to me whatsoever, but I have to pay for a special lock?”

He grinned.

“Seriously,” I asked, “does anyone complain about any of this?”

He shook his head. No, no one’s complaining about all the free windows.

No, I don't imagine they would. "All new free stuff for your house" has a remarkable appeal.

Woke to a nice view. The fog lends the day a contemplative aspect.


I sent the picture to Daughter, who always liked the view from the house of a foggy day. That ought to make her tired of warm Brazil, with its sultry weather and bright colors and never-ending Carnival spirit! Come home, where the damp settles in like camphor on a wound.

This was a comment on the StarTribune website the other day, talking about road expansion and construction. When I was growing up no one was "pro-car." They were just, you know, drivers. But now we know there are different opinions on the issue.

If people wish to ride bikes, have at it! Invigorating and healthful, and all that. When it comes to removing a lane of a busy street and reserving it for bikes, that's different. My daily commute lost a lane to bikes. Usage is scant. It would seem much more reasonable to assign a light-traffic parallel side-street to bikes, as was done in my neighborhood - wide white stripes, like railroad ties, indicate that bikes have preference.

Why is this insuperior, to use the Dark Chef's old word, to eliminating a lane for cars?

I know, I know, stupid question. But return to the highlighted portion. Repeat out loud until you give up on finding anything other than what the author said. There's really no reason why we should prefer cars during winter to bikes.

This is like saying there's no reason why we should prefer houses in the winter to caves dug in the snowbanks.


You should see what Squatfruit is going for these days.



The price surprised me too, since I haven't had any recipes lately that called for the stuff. That's not a misprint.

Most of the fresh jackfruit sold in U.S. supermarkets is in the 12- to 20-pound range, he says, which isn’t practical for one- or two-person households. And at a typical retail price of $2 to $3 per pound, a whole jackfruit isn’t cheap.Then there’s the preparation – a rather complex process that consumers may be reluctant to tackle.  “It’s a difficult fruit to cut,” Schueller says. advises anyone cutting up a jackfruit to “wear old clothes, latex gloves and cover (the) cutting board with plastic wrap,” since the fruit contains a sticky sap.

Also, it explodes if cut improperly, and showers the walls with a stenchy oil. If not cooked properly, it rots you from the inside over the course of a month.


A reminder that correlation is not causation:

Saw this at Consolidated Hooch the other day, and smiled:

But . . . what does it taste like?

Let's take a look at the back, and see if they give you any clues about the flavor:

I guess not. I love the fact that it's a NoDak drink, and it plays up our oil heritage, and the fact that it references Zap is just perfect. I remember the day the town swam into my young consciousness - I was a boy actor at the NDSU Little Theater on the Prairie, and all the actors were excited about the event of the spring.

The town of Zap is probably most widely known for the Zip to Zap riot, which occurred on May 10, 1969. The Zip to Zap was originally intended as a spring break diversion. Between 2000 and 3000 people descended upon the town after an article by Chuck Stroup, originally appearing in the North Dakota State University Spectrum newspaper, and then later picked up by the Associated Press, compelled busloads and chartered planes full of people from around the United States to go there.

The amiable revelry began early with an all-night party in the streets outside an overwhelmed small bar. When the mayor finally exited the bar in the middle of the night and discovered a bonfire on main street and realized the size of the crowd in his tiny town, he panicked and called the governor, William Guy. At dawn, marching in formation and armed with bayonets placed, the National Guard invaded the town and forced the crowd to leave Zap.

The event moved to several other towns before the Governor announced that a park in Bismarck would host the crowd. The then-popular rock station, KFYR, and their disc jockeys were in communication with event organizers and falsely reported where the crowd had gone before they arrived, effectively directing all the listeners on which small town and park to proceed to next. In one village, locals cleaned out the Farmers Union of every implement handle in order to patrol their town against the wave of invading hippies and cowboys.

You'd think they'd play that up on the label.

By the way: Martin Widner's daughter. She died in 2015 at the age of 96.

Elsewhere: Imagine you're the person who types the words on a chyron, and you see your work go viral, and there's nothing you can do.

This made me laugh, and not for reasons you might think:

This was the disease-of-the-week on a Marcus Welby ep. It was such a melodic-sounding condition that I repeated it over and over until was encoded forever in some neuron group tasked with non-essential data. I even remember bringing it up to the White Earth Camp nurse - a rather young lass, if I recall - and she was amused that I knew a complex disease like this.

I had no idea what it was, but I just liked the sound of it.



The second block site has suddenly leaped up, as they always do.

That's the good news! The less-than-fantastic news: the elevator core isn't going any higher.

Herein we learn that Lance has a photographic memory.

That's the only possible explanation, isn't it? Solution is here.



We continue the 2019 review of the music at the Blue Note Cafe.


Every show began the same way, at least during its heyday. The theme, a piano glissando down to the melody playing in the background of the bar, and some fourth-wall breaking with Ethelbert the bartender, Casey the Crime Photographer, and Tony Marvin, the shill.






Who the hell is yelling? Who the hell is whistling?

Yes, the speed's a bit off.


Classic "we're on the move, possibly on a train, but if not, the music could be used later for a train" cue.



2019 returns to the bins, and the records dumped back into the world when someone dies and the kids give the contents of Mom and Dad's entertainment system to the Goodwill.


Wikipedia on Jim Ed:

"James Edward Brown (April 1, 1934 – June 11, 2015) was an American country singer-songwriter who achieved fame in the 1950s with his two sisters as a member of the Browns. He later had a successful solo career from 1965 to 1974, followed by a string of major duet hits with fellow country music vocalist Helen Cornelius, through 1981."


"Beginning in 1975, Brown became a national spokesperson for the Dollar General Stores discount retailer. He appeared in frequent TV advertisements using the slogan, "Every day is dollar day at your Dollar General Store," and an autographed photo hung behind the cash register at many stores."





Count how long it takes them to get to the product.


That'll do - see you Monday!

Bleat+ logins should be finished by today - sent a batch out this afternoon, and I'm poking through the emails to see which ones I missed.



blog comments powered by Disqus