I got some new knives for Christmas, and boy, are they sharp. Last night I shaved off about a third of my left index fingernail below the quick while chopping vegetables for a roasted-vegetable pasta. Not as much blood as you’d think, but my finger, even wrapped in two Band-Aids, is as sensitive as…something very very sensitive. And the Band-Aid slows my typing speed by about 30 percent. And I have to be downtown at 10, and we had a significant snowfall overnight. All of which is me making excuses for short shrift today. But you knew that.
The pasta? Why, it was delicious. Oven-roasted squash, onion, garlic, sage and kale, tossed with bowties. I’m enough of a pro in the kitchen that I tracked down the fingernail before I dressed the wound.
The snow? They’re saying we got 3-5 inches, I say 3 tops. But over here on the far eastern side of the state, along the Lake St. Clair banana belt, we rarely get the maximum.
So let’s get to the bloggage, eh?
The right has settled on its terms, and we are calling it “blood libel.” First tossed out by Professor Heh Indeed, amplified by the Wall Street Journal’s headline, now passed down to the proles by Sexy Sadie. Too bad she never talks to the regular press; maybe someone could ask her if she knows what the original blood libel was. As Roy points out, “the Southron is the Jew of liberal fascism.”
Why David Edelstein and I would get along like aces: We agree on the greatest films ever shot in New York City — “Sweet Smell of Success” and “Dog Day Afternoon” among them. I think “The French Connection” belongs in the top tier, too, if only for the chase scene under the elevated train.
An old one from Roger Ebert that one of my FB friends noticed; I hadn’t read it yet, so here you go: Standup rules.
And now I must fly. My finger hurts.