Nancy Pelosi is afraid of Jon Stewart

I can see it in her deer-in-the-headlights eyes. It's almost as if the questions he might ask her are the hardest questions she's ever had to face.

Which is actually probably the case.



Mr. & Mrs. Smith is now available on dvd - rent it rent it rent it. Pitt and Jolie are movie stars. Period. And the movie is fun! I know, I know, I owe you the blow by blow on the trip to the NYC, and I'm getting to it. In the meantime, go back to looking at Angelina. Like you're even reading this.

Eat, drink and make merry

Hope your meals this weekend are delish and the company delightful.

But would even a turkey pardon this President?

From Wikipedia, in response to a lively discussion in the foyer this morning:

Since 1947, or possibly earlier, the National Turkey Federation has presented the President of the United States with one live turkey and two dressed turkeys. The live turkey is pardoned and lives out the rest of its days on a peaceful farm. While it is commonly held that this tradition began with Harry Truman in 1947, the Truman Library has been unable to find any evidence for this. Still others claim that that the tradition dates back to Abraham Lincoln pardoning his son's pet turkey. Both stories have been quoted in more recent presidential speeches.

In more recent years, two turkeys have been pardoned, in case the original turkey becomes unavailable for presidential pardoning. Since 2003 the public has been invited to vote for the two turkeys' names. In 2005, they were named Marshmallow and Yam; 2004's turkeys were named Biscuit and Gravy; in 2003, Stars and Stripes.

This year, Marshmallow is going to Disneyland to Grand Marshal their Thanksgiving Day Parade - apparently the title Grand Marshal has few attached responsibilities. I expect that the White House Staff had to spend weeks prepping this President for his first experience with pardoning:

"I'm confident," he said, "that every person that has been put to death in Texas under my watch has been guilty of the crime charged, and has had full access to the courts." - article by Anthony Lewis, June 2000

Hotel Rwanda

I know, I should have seen this movie about a year ago, but that what my Netflix cue is for. In case Katrina didn't alert you, powerful white people don't care about people of colour in other countries either. Imagine telling your wife that she has to take your children and jump off the roof, because no one should die by machete.

Heading off again to the City on the Hudson in avoidance of all things Pilgrim. I'm taking comfort in the thought of calories not ingested, and prepping for a complicated series of manoeuvres in which we all make it to and from the airport with a minimum of parking fees, and the cat is sat upon at home instead of at the spendy kennel. But I have been generously lent a small suitcase on wheels, (thank you does not begin to convey my feelings toward the Mistress of Chocolate), which will mitigate the overpacking. A girl needs her shoes ... although the promise of snowflakes with the champagne is delicious enough to keep me smartly shod.

The pen is mightier when held by the author

Being in love, truly in love, makes us vulnerable. There's a stage at the beginning of a relationship, hopefully short-lived, in which we question our beloved, our own sanity, and possibly even the laws of gravity. But, please, in your hamsterball of insecurity, don't go so far as to have others write love letters on your behalf. (Daily Candy should be ashamed of itself for promoting this website & I"m not linking to their site on principle.) The FG condones throwing money at some circumstances in the interests of resolution - a failure to make dinner reservations, a forgotten anniversary, a cake that didn't rise - this isn't one of the ones I'll sanction.

I still have a box (somewhere) of communiques from boys in their teens, with illegible handwriting and clumsy turns of phrase, that are far more precious to me than anything a third party could dream up. It's not about sending /the perfect letter/. What makes a love letter real is that it was written by the beloved. If you can't be honest at this early stage of the relationship, before he finds out you can't spell or she notices your mixed metaphors, is there really hope long term?

I'm also a little concerned about the individual offering this service. It's not exactly schadenfreude, I hope, but it seems at the least like living vicariously.

The turkey's the thing

In today's NYT Dining & Wine, Kim Severson recounts tales of turkeys past:

I have done foolish things in pursuit of a delicious Thanksgiving turkey. I have cooked them in the style of countries I've never visited. I've dismembered them raw. I have stood in a cold garage drinking beer while men I barely knew poked at one floating in a caldron of hot oil. I've hunted down 12 perfect juniper berries and submerged them, along with a turkey raised more carefully than a Montessori student, in a tub of salted water overnight. I've massaged butter into breasts and stuffed sage leaves under skin. I've soaked cheesecloth in butter and flipped hot carcasses from one side to the other.

Several weeks ago, a friend gently suggested that serious cooks spend entirely too much time thinking about the Thanksgiving turkey. Naturally, I thought about that. Is the time and money spent on a gamy American Bronze heritage turkey worth it when most guests prefer the bland flavor of the Broad-Breasted White they grew up eating? Is 24 hours of preparation excessive, when that time might be better spent on traditional holiday pursuits like creating a spectacular pumpkin pie or actively ignoring your family?

On the Thanksgiving plate, turkey is never the star nor the most memorable dish. Turkey recipes are not passed down through generations, like your grandmother's cranberry relish. No one remembers the turkey unless it is bad.

I beg to differ. The turkey has been the star of my (CDN) Thanksgiving table for years. It is, in fact, the centerpiece of the meal, the bride, if you will, accompanied by sweet potato souffle and garlic mashed potato bridesmaids (in dresses of their own choosing), and followed by a honeymoon of pumpkin and cranberry nut pies. I play with the hors d'oeuvres, the soup, the dressing and the vegetables, but year after year, the turkey is the star. People ask me about it, starting in July. Trust me, it matters.

And now, it can be yours for the making. Don't be inimidated, it's not hard. The prep work is easy to dole out to various aspiring chefs and helpers. I ignore the part about the vegetables, stuff with quartered lemons, apples or pears and assorted herbs, and baste with a mixture of apple cider, butter & oil. Make this with the leftover chipotles - SO good.

Shuesday: these shoes are made for

not much, actually, but they're pretty ...

It's not nice to tease the Radical Right

although it's tremendously fun. Daily Kos encourages us all to mess with Bill O'Reilly, (a link you can find for yourself) just a lil bit:

If you, dear reader, want to be on O'Reilly's "Enemies List", you can send mail to Bill at oreilly@foxnews.com. I've included a poll of likely reasons below. Alas, this poll only allows you to pick one reason. If you have more than one reason you want to be on O'Reilly's Enemies List, by all means mention them all.


Dear Bill O'Reilly. Please put me on your Enemies List because:
You thought telling an entire city that you didn't think they should be defended if Al Qaeda attacked them would be a funny joke.
You thought telling one of of your women coworkers that performing sexual acts using a fried middle eastern food would be a sexy turn on.
I read ten pages of your goddamn porno book, and you owe me.
You thought I forgot all about that whole "I'll be first to be mad if no WMDs are found in Iraq" thing, but I didn't.
I was on McCarthy's Enemies List, and Nixon's Enemies List, and I want to continue the streak.
I'm hoping to hasten your rapid descent into madness. Possibly by Christmas, if possible, because I haven't gotten Al Franken anything yet.

More reasons to heart Samantha Bee

Featured today in Sunday Styles, Ms. Bee & husband Jason Jones have

lived in New York for two years, and they love all things Manhattan, except brunch. It's not clear what's wrong with brunch, but Mr. Jones takes off on a complicated explanation of back bacon, which is apparently what Americans mean when they say Canadian bacon, but is not in fact the real Canadian bacon which is actually peameal bacon.

Ms. Bee is a foodie, and, according to her husband, an excellent cook. "I'm so good at making pie, I should go into business," she announced. They conceded that the brunch at Le Parker Meridien hotel is quite good, though they haven't tried the $1,000 omelet.

Any woman who knows her bacon is welcome in the home of the FG.

And then again

on the heels of the good news previously reported, the Senate today, in a close vote, withdrew the rights of detainees to challenge their detentions in US courts, overturning the SCOTUS ruling of June 2004.

Nearly 200 of roughly 500 detainees there have already filed habeas corpus motions, which are making their way up through the federal court system. As written, the amendment would void any suits pending at the time the law was passed.

Five Democrats joined 44 Republicans in the vote - Lieberman (CT), Landrieu (LA), Nelson (NB), Conrad (ND), & Wyden (OR). It just reminds me, again, of how different things would be if there were 500 Americans being held in a camp off the coast of any other country in the world.

Colour me confused

Who's in charge again? I was sure the RNC had a stranglehold on all three branches of government, but this week:

• the most recent white catholic straight male SCOTUS appointee has pro- and ani-choice dance cards (NYT)
• Judy Miller 'retired' from the Times (NYT)
  
• the Dems retained two state governorships (CNN)
• Schwarzenegger got spanked, and not by Maria (LA Times)
• the House rejected Bush's attempts to renew the Patriot Act (WA Post)
• the House dropped the ANWR drilling bid in a budget fight (NYT)

Anyone?

Shuesday: Oh the weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful...










OK, I know it's too early for holiday songs, but eggnog lattes are here! And another way to keep warm is to shoe yourself in animal prints.* There's a lot of haircalf out there to choose from, so no need to limit yourself. Although the boots may be a little much.


















These, on the other hand, are to be avoided at all costs:

* not from real animals. OK, the leather probably is, but no giraffes were skinned in the creation of this post.

Am I the only one

getting creeped out by those new Charles Schwab ads featuring close-ups of animated people discussing their finances? Reminds me of the Polar Express and the creepy CGI effects, although the animation is clearly quite different. And they're everywhere!

Also, unrelated, Kelly Clarkson is just WAY too blonde now.

Quote du jour, from the senior senator from Massachusetts on Meet the Press:

Ethics has to be more than a class.

Apropos of nothing

And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Valentine, Act III, Scene I, The Two Gentlemen of Verona

FG of the Month: Maureen Dowd

OK, OK, so perhaps I"m jumping on the Gawker bandwagon here, but I've done my homework, and I heart Maureen Dowd. Because she knows that relations between men and women are complicated, by power and wealth and politics and sex, and doesn't try to sugar coat it. Because she's smart and sexy and unapologetic. Don't believe me? Read this New York Magazine profile and this Times book excerpt ... unless you think you're getting the book from me for xmas ...

Shuesday: Happy Birthday to Kate

Go, go, go, go
Go, go, go shawty
It's your birthday
We gon' party like it's yo birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday

And if you wear these, you may think it's your birthday too. These are serious contenders for the best f**k me shoes ever.

I'm just saying.