Like “The Kool-aid Report” on clay tablets

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by the Night Writer

They didn’t exactly find a heiroglyphic of a someone pulling another person’s finger inside the tomb of King TootTut, but a link from the online Wall Street Journal describes how research has revealed that early civilizations were just as prone to recording scatological humor and to laughing at farts, sex and stupid people.

Scouring ancient texts, researchers from Wolverhampton University found the jokes laid down in delicate manuscripts and carved into stone tablets up to three thousand years old.

Dr Paul MacDonald, a comic novelist and lecturer in creative writing, said ancient civilizations laughed about much the same things as we do today.

He said jokes ancient and modern shared “a willingness to deal with taboos and a degree of rebellion.”

“Modern puns, Essex girl jokes and toilet humour can all be traced back to the very earliest jokes identified in this research,” he commented.

Lost civilisations laughed at farts, sex, and “stupid people” just as we do today, Dr McDonald said.

But they found evidence that Egyptians were laughing at much the same thing.

…

The world’s oldest surviving joke “is essentially a fart gag”, he said.

The 3,000-year-old Sumerian proverb, from ancient Babylonia, reads: “Something which has never occurred since time immemorial; a young woman did not fart in her husband’s lap.”

…

Dr McDonald commented: “Toilet humour goes back just about as far as we can go.”

Similarly, going about as far as you can go sounds a lot like these guys.

Night Hens- Comprehensive Version!

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by the Night Hens

So the Hens are in Minneapolis this morning, sitting on the patio outside Panera Bread. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the vehicles are LOUD, pretty much drowning out the birds who hop around us excitedly and expentantly. If you feed them, they will come. In flocks. It’s scary!!!

MD and TL go inside and order while RM saves a table outside, though there is hardly a rush of people to claim them, as its 10 o’ clock. Yes, a.m.

The guy behind the counter (codename: Eric) is very personable. TL orders a frozen lemonade, which, apparently, is a lemonade slushy.
Eric: Do you want whipped cream on that?
TL: Yep.
MD: Whipped cream????
TL:Yeah, it’s good!
Eric: She knows what she’s talking about.
MD: I don’t think it sounds gross, I’m just jealous!
Eric asks MD iff she wants whipped cream.
MD: But I’m just getting a regular coffee.
Eric: I know.
MD: Sure!
Eric makes another frozen lemonade and hands it to MD. “Now you don’t have to be jealous.”
MD: Thanks!

So now we’re all outside, feeding the birds (or at least, TL is. Just call her the bird lady.). A kid rides up on his bycycle, parks it and chains it to a lamppost. I can tell that he works at Panera. He goes inside.
MD: Nice apron!

RM: goes inside to go to the powder room and grab a sample out of the sample case to feed to the birds. They were using the almonds from my pastry, but those are gone. Their favorite bird is a little one-legged black-capped chickadee (codename: That Little Parapolegic Bird)
MD: Do they like frosting?
TL:: I think that its probably not good for them. I’m feeding them cinnamon bread. Do you want a bite
RM: No! she doesn’t need that! Think of the bird.
MD: Oh, nice.

MD: I’m engaged!
RM: Ok, one week and I want that to stop.
MD: And then in about 5 months I’ll just say it out of the blue.

A big truck rolls by and makes a very unladylike noise.
RM:That thing farted!
More funny noises are heard, but this time from our table.
MD: What happened?
RM: TL blubbered lemonade all over my arm.
TL: It’s not called blubbering, it’s called bubbling! Blubbering is crying.
RM: She burbled it.

TL: So we found out who Doomtree is. (Referring to the paper- entertainment section) One of the guys names is Turbo Nemesis.
RM: Do you think that’s his real name?
TL: No.

RM: You know, we keep hanging out here, and I keep expecting to see Jesus, but he hasn’t come back.
MD: Like as in: the second coming?
TL: The second coming to Panera.
RM giggles.

TL wonders why people randomly wear dresses instead of pants and shirts.
RM: Didn’t you see dad’s post about men in skirts?
TL: What about it?
RM: Well, I guess it didn’t really explain why, just that they do.
TL: But not in this country.
RM: Well, maybe in New York. Or Paduka, Idaho.
MD laughs.
RM: Is Paduka in Idaho?
MD: I think its in Kentucky.
RM: Ok, I drank too much of that lemonade thing, and now I’ve got a sugar high. There’s a cute car!

RM: So what’s going to happen after you get married, are you going to snub us?
MD, laughing: Yup.
TL: NOOOOOOOOOoooooooo…..
RM: What’s wrong with you?
TL: Can I borrow some of that?
RM: My lipstick?
TL: Yep.
RM: MD, TL want’s to borrow some of your lipstick.
MD: Get your own.

RM: So one day are we going to go to McDonald’s to get cappuccinos?
MD: Nope.

TL: So, if MD snubs us after she gets married, it’ll just be me and you. Like it was when she was in beauty school.
RM: Oh, yeah. Did we miss her?
MD: yep.
TL:Only in her mind.
RM: Yeah, in her little fevered imagination.
TL: We could kidnap her.

RM: What should we do today? Go test drive motorcycles?
TL: We should go shopping.

…..

RM: we need to get into our car before we get ticketed.

Like a lover’s voice fires the mountainside

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by the Night Writer

Mitch notes that it was 25 years ago today when Big Country’s album “The Crossing” was released in the States. The big Top 40 hit from that album was the song “In a Big Country” …

In a big country, dreams stay with you,
Like a lover’s voice, fires the mountainside…
Stay alive..

Four years prior to that album coming out I had spent a semester in England, taking some classes and traveling the country as much as I could. The first time I heard “In a Big Country” (and every time since then) I thought of a conversation I had with a fellow American student after we’d been there for a couple of months. We both realized that one of the biggest things we missed was “the horizon” and the sense of how much land was beyond it. Even in the English country-side the horizon always seemed too close and you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being squeezed. As much as we missed good hamburgers and American sports, we found ourselves having longing thoughts of the Kansas interstate.

I don’t think much about Kansas anymore, but the lines of the song have always stuck with me.

So take that look out of here it doesn’t fit you
Because it’s happened doesn’t mean you’ve been discarded
Pull up your head off the floor — come up screaming
Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted

As dark and obscure as they are, there’s a certain “suck it up, wait it out” optimism underlying them. I’ve lived long enough now to have experienced several economic and political cycles, as well as times of feeling isolated and other times overwhelmed, and I think I’ve learned to hold onto the constants — faith, the relationships you can count on, and the promise of another horizon and what may lay beyond.

I’m not expecting to grow flowers in a desert
But I can live and breathe
And see the sun in wintertime

Stay alive.

What a Dad’s to do

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by the Night Writer

When my oldest daughter was born, nigh on 20 years ago, they put that tiny little bundle in my arms — arms that had, just a few hours earlier, been lifting furniture and heavy equipment in the delivery room as I tried to vent my anxiety and frustration. The contrast between the weight of those items and her seven measly pounds belied the heavy but invisible mantle that had just been laid across my shoulders.

Our pastor knocked and came into the room about that time and I turned my daughter toward him and said, “Now Faith is” — as in “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen” (Heb. 11:1). Our little miracle baby, Faith Christine, was amongst us and I had just taken up my first watch.

I thought of this the other day as Ben made his case for how much he admired Faith and, in exchange for my blessing, gave his personal promise to safeguard her heart and well-being, to support her physically, emotionally and spiritually, and to raise my grandchildren in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.

I know there are a few people — well, probably many — who question the need or propriety of a would-be husband these days asking his prospective father-in-law for the daughter’s hand in marriage. “Women aren’t chattel to be passed from one patriarch to another!”, or “Doesn’t she have a say in the matter?”, or “What right does Dad have to get in-between young lovers?” Some of the more perceptive might even ask, “Why isn’t he asking both the father and the mother?”

To me it’s all part and parcel of a culture that has grown accustomed to demeaning and diminishing the role of parents, going back to the days when we started saying “Don’t trust anyone over 30,” the presentation of adults (especially dads) as dolts on “family” sit-coms and the cultural and educational conceit that young people are wiser and more informed about “how things really are” than those stick-in-the-mud old folks. As a result we miss, or become uncertain about, certain nuances.

Now, I enjoy playing the role of patriarch and benevolent dictator, but that is because I take it seriously and have not shirked the robe that comes with it. It fits. I have not viewed my daughters as my property to be maximized for the greatest return on investment, or as servants and dependents sent for my own amusement. My wife and I have always realized that we were not owners, but stewards, of what we were entrusted with and we structured our lives and our daughters’ with an eye to providing the things that prepare them for long-term happiness (especially how they can get this themselves), even if it involved some not-so-happy decisions.

I have to say we are well-pleased with the results to date. Yes, Faith is well able to direct her own life, but every woman needs a man in her life who knows her value and is willing to sacrifice for her well-being. Before I cede that position to another I want to be darn sure he knows what is expected.

Ben may not be perfect (he’s got some dents where the University of Hard Knocks has deposited wisdom), but the situation has been nearly ideal. They’ve known each other for almost three years and have progressed gradually from acquaintance to friendship to courtship and now engagement. While they have not been physical, they have been intimate, taking the opportunity to really know each other and weigh their respective characters. Similarly, our family has had the same amount of time (actually, longer) to get to know Ben and make our own evaluation. This isn’t some shaggy freak Faith has drug home from a concert and asked if she can keep him.

So, while my stewardship is not yet finished, its days are clearly numbered. The promised land my daughter and I have been preparing for for so many years is at last on the horizon though, like Moses, I will not cross with her. She will always be my daughter, but then I will have something even better. A friend.

Two, actually.

Le chat is out of du sac

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Breaking (actually, “bonding”) news over at Hammerswing for all you romantics, or the just plain curious.

They couldn’t print it if it wasn’t true

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From the front page of today’s StarTribune:

“Squeezed by a smoking ban and higher costs, beer sales in British pubs have fallen to Depression-era levels, and 1,400 pubs have closed.”


The Telegraph had more to say.

UK beer sales have fallen through the five billion litre mark for the first time since 1975 as the consumer downturn and smoking ban continue to hit Britain’s pubs and brewers.

News that annual beer sales have slipped below 50m hectolitres will come as a further blow to an industry already suffering as pubs go out of business and brewers are forced to consolidate.

Figures released to the brewing industry by the British Beer and Pub Association, and seen by The Sunday Telegraph, show total UK beer sales fell 1.7 per cent in the year to the end of April.
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The effect of the decline in consumption, combined with rising utility and commodity costs, an increase in beer duty, and the impact of the consumer downturn and smoking ban is having a catastrophic impact on Britain’s pubs.

Pub closures are running at 27 a week, according to the BBPA, amounting to some 1,200 that have been forced out of business over the last 12 months.

To be fair, a 1.7 percent decline in beer sales this year doesn’t sound like enough to drive pubs out of business, even if linked to a smoking ban. The article also states:

That came as the volume of beer sold through pubs hit its lowest level since the Great Depression of the 1930s, with sales in the whole of the UK beer market down by 22 per cent since 1979.

If beer sales have been dropping since 1979 it doesn’t sound as if a smoking ban was the root cause. Still, it couldn’t have been helpful, especially when combined with other factors, including additional government handicaps in the form of increased duties.

Meanwhile, The Guardian had this report:

Pubs have sold 175 million fewer pints in the past year as a direct result of the smoking ban, according to market analysts AC Nielsen.

Jake Shepherd, marketing director AC Nielsen, said: ‘The winter months were particularly bad. Sales fell nine per cent through November to January when smokers would have been reluctant to stand outside in the cold to have a cigarette.’

Sales of wine were not hit as hard, dropping four per cent after the ban. Shepherd said: ‘Wine has held up somewhat better than other drinks, benefiting from the increasing importance of food and women to the trade.’ Cigarette sales have dropped 6 per cent since 1 July last year with smokers buying 2 billion fewer cigarettes between 1 July 2007 and April 2008.

The decline in beer sales in England, however, is consistent with the experience of Scottish pubs. Scotland instituted a nation-wide smoking ban in March of 2006, a year ahead of the rest of the UK, and saw a 7 percent decrease in pub beer sales in the ensuing 12 months according to AC Nielsen in an article in The Independent.

It would seem that in a down economy it is easier to push a margin-intensive business over the edge, especially when the government adds the extra burdens of increased taxes and a smoking ban. Increase taxes and institute a smoking ban? I’m certainly glad that that couldn’t happen in Minnesota.

Wait a minute…

“Just Manny being Manny” — but how about “Manly”?

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Manny Ramirez of the Boston Team Manny has one laudatory skill: being able to hit a baseball. Perhaps he would benefit by checking out
Manival #14. It’s back “home” this week at the blog that launched the Manival carnival, The Art of Manliness. As usual there’s lots of good stuff and several different categories to explore, especially if you’re Manny Ramirez.

For example, check out Dr. Awesome for valuable advice and important rulings on what is or isn’t manly: this week’s topic concerns long hair. In addition, as the summer winds down and the play-offs draw near there’s still time to review a list of “Top 10 Summer Activites for Dad & Kids” from Discovering Dad. And if you’re into naming the “best” and “worst” of anything you’ll probably like “The Best Foods for Men” at Fat Man Unleashed (oh, Manny!) and “The Worst Karate Move I Ever Learned” at Martial Development (I wonder if this involves knocking down the club’s 60-year-old Traveling Secretary?).

There are also plenty of good posts for those of us non-All Stars who might still like to take our game to another level. This week I want to call special attention to two Manival articles: Monday Morning Amour over at A Good Husband. You should definitely read the other Manival entries as well, or — as Twins’ announcer John Gordon would say — “Touch ’em all!”

They reportedly like Obama, too…

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The new fashion statement from Europe is…

Men In Skirts (story and photos)…

How do you know men’s lib is in full swing? When men start wearing skirts. On the street. In everyday life. The Sartorialist, Scott Schuman, snapped two men wearing skirts on the streets of Europe, and it caught us off guard — it’s not like these guys were heading to a Scottish wedding in ritual dress. No, they evidently woke up that morning and decided that instead of putting their pants on one leg at a time, they’d slip a skirt over both legs. We thought we weren’t ready for mirdles, but this is a whole new level.

We admit, we find the looks Schumann shot stylish. But we can’t get past the fact that they’re men wearing skirts, and something about that trend catching on just doesn’t look or feel right. Don’t get us wrong — we’re all for equality of the sexes, and if Yves Saint Laurent can put women in pantsuits, there’s no reason other designers can’t put men in skirts. We expect to see them on the men’s runways from time to time. And we find it delightful when we do, but in a non-serious way. But now that it may be getting serious, we’re a bit unsettled. We don’t know if America is ready for her men to be traipsing around the streets in skirts. And if they’re just barely catching on in Europe now, how long before they’re popular here? Five to ten years?

Commenters on the Sartorialist are smitten by these men in their skirts. One writes, “I’d do it myself (in ten years maybe).” Another writes, “There was a great Met Costume Institute show of men in skirts a few years ago — it took about 5 seconds inside to realize that the West has missed an opportunity for beautiful tailoring and sexy knees.” And yet another writes, “I love both looks — I was struck by the usage of the belt on the guy with the tie — these looks are hot.”

Hot? As in, Damn, that outfit compels me to get that guy’s number? Hm. Dunno. But that’s not to say that in several years we won’t find a hot man in a hot skirt to be the sexiest thing since Brangelina. For now, though, so long as they’re off the runway, we can’t help but prefer to see guys with that extra bit of fabric between their thighs. But maybe we’re just behind. So we’ll ask you: How do you feel about men in skirts? Is the world ready for it? Or do you think it will take another decade or so for the planet to prepare?

Developing…

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I’m still tired after spending the weekend trying to recover from the annual Millard Fillmore Memorial golf tournament (aka “The MILF”) last Friday where I was in the woods so much I think the tourney should be renamed “Lumberjack Days.” I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m now battling Lyme Disease.

Then there was my stepping up at the last minute at the post-MILF party to serve as a replacement “Master of Sausages” without first being able to perform the standard three day meditation and purification regimen that goes along with that. Fortunately I was able to pass through the flames without injury, but it was a very close thing and that will take something out of you.

I’ve also been devoting time to preparing the second lecture and homework assignment for this week’s “Are You Marriageable” class that I’m teaching, set for Wednesday night. Speaking of which, here’s an interesting link to a post over at The Art of Manliness on How to Ask a Woman’s Father For Her Hand in Marriage.

Maybe I’ll have enough energy to post something tonight after I finally get home. I first have to stop off and see Ben; he said there’s something he wanted to talk to me about.

Update:
Developing further…