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Friday Aug 17th, 2007

Three Alien Pizza

"I could drink a case of you,
And I would still be on my feet." Joni Mitchell


Dear folks,

I'm sure Joni never intended her imagery to be taken hostage like I'm doing, but yours truly, Arachnides, the Red Back of the Web, has once again crawled out of his hidey hole to weave a digital thread. This weekend we will look at the Blues, the Fugs, Eating Alien and try to recall (and perhaps visualize, if that's not asking too much) the long forgotten art of the Coca-Cola Douche, of which I have some personal experience. (You scoff?)


My wife only has sex with me for a purpose. Last night she used me to time an egg.

Favourite Letters of the Week

Hello Joe,
I just watched that youtube link you sent. The full length one. I really laughed. Then I found some footage of the competition from the folk festival. Those pipers were also very funny. You are great for my laughter therapy. Katus

(Note: Here are the two YouTube 'Shaddap You Face' links Katus is referring to in case you missed them last week:
Inspired Shaddap You Face Contest 2006 - two selections: Peter Grayling: cello fantasia and Canberra Celtic Pipes, Highland Fling Variation.

By the way, there are also a ton of new comments on the YouTube sites:

* Thank god we found this eh jason?! i never even heard this song and weve been singing this for weeks. I will now be singing this for weeks! robbiecross
* LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL I Was looking for this all over the Internet, found it on youtube, why didnt i think of it first! I LOVE IT, i only ever heard it once before! I LOVE IT!, ITS HILARIOUS. Im So sad lol x its great z3r044
* Shaddapa you face- makes no? sense he needs to be shot mileycyrusfanxx
* I think this song is the most wonderful thing the Italians have given us, beats the crap out of the Roamn Empire. musicdude1968
* i remember this song when i was 5 my dad played this all the time . i miss this song. electricrussell
* a luv this song it makes me cry lol the guys in ma old work used to sing in to cheer me up n now i dnt c them anymore! ahh miss those days lol x sexime16
* i actualy thought this song was from the 30's or something lol Dainamir
* When I was a little kid my gramma used to play the 45 and tell us it was the old italian guy next door. dudewheresmytoast
* calm down m8 dont get ur tiny balls in a knot lange223
* Joe dolce, tu sei numero uno veramente...
brava gente italiana, mi piace molto...
grazie per la bella musica...
respetto 100% SLAVAROSSIA777
* he still alive? steffjames
* I hope not. Holger200612
* i think he's German you can tell just look at him and the way he speaks! guitarworton
* German?? How the f*ck does that sound like german?? HannahHfc
* Una canzone magnifica rjhglover
* Che bella canzone dal Australia japonela
* I hate this phuckin video. It kept Vienna from Ultravox of No.1 in th UK. I hope he rots in hell. bigphil25
* You hope he rots in hell for keeping Ultravox off number one??? Jeez-what do you do to people who REALLY piss you off? ParkyPrincess
* This makes me laugh, Ultravox were shit. Thank god that awful Vienna 80s new romantic bollocks was kept in off No1 by this. thank you forever Joe Dolce! lostlanguage

Hi Joe...
Greatly enjoy your newsletters. They're thought- provoking and entertaining. Keep'em coming. (I also enjoy the bad jokes) A songwriting wkshp is a great idea.I'm learning songs in a variety of languages for choral performance : Melbourne Millenium Chorus, Sat 7pm 25/8 and 31/8. Our matinee is sold out. Check boite.com.au for details. There is so much amazing music in the world. Hope to see you at a workshop in person again. alosin alosin

(Note: Alosin Alosin, put in a good word with our mate, Roger, from the Boite, and perhaps we can have a songwriting workshop at the next Singer's Festival in Daylesford in 2008. Some of the song themes and ideas I will be looking at over the next couple of weeks will be Crowded House's 'Don't Dream, It's Over,' and how it could have been greatly improved with a better set of lyrics; the Christian imagery (and subtext) in some of the songs of Bob Dylan, Nick Cave, and Paul Kelly, primarily compared to the way I use it in some of my own writing; the two main versions (US & UK) of the Caribbean sea shanty 'Shallow Brown', and the three lyric variants of the traditional Irish ballad, 'The Rocks of Bawn'. If there any other songs or themes anyone is interested in talking about, let me know. )

Re: "JosephusV-Caesar" <josephusv-caesar@yahoo.com>
Caesar ...Mary....and Joseph .............. You're freaking me out Joe ! Now your doppelganger is writing to me ! Stephen Dunlevey

(Note: Strength and honour, Stephenus. I discovered an amazing free facility in Yahoo Mail last week: AddressGuard. It allows you to create disposable email addresses which can be directed to a folder of your choice by combining a root name (ie JosephusV) with a hyphenated second name (ie Caesar). When you get too much spam - or you want to direct certain email to certain folders, you can adjust the second name (ie Caesar2). You can choose to delete any of the hyphenated second names - or keep them directed to a specific folder, and even create new Root names from your basic email adress. This is quite simple and handy for prioritising email correspondence without using filters. And you can do it all yourself from your Yahoo options.)

Re: The Streets of Loredo
Have you ever come across the Louis McNiece poem that follows the same format - but is about the Fire of London during WW2? . . . It is evocative for me as I lived (as an 11-year old  street kid) in London throughout that war - and saw much of it burning. I send it as per the original - the last two paragraphs were in italics - so I've done that here.
 The allusion to Sir Christopher Wren is that he rebuilt London (including St Pauls cathedral) after the great fire of 1666.
 The reference to 'holding the branch tightly' - refers to a high power fire hose (branch) that needs several fireman to control.    MacNeice was born in 1907 and died in 1964. He was part of the then well-know group of poets Auden, Spencer and MacNeice. You asked if it had ever been put to music. I checked this and to my surprise found it was a track on the Blue Aeroplanes 'Weird Shit' and credited to Ian Kiernan. (Swarffinger SF 041CD February 2005). There is a note there Oysterband Discography - but as I'm not a muso I do not know the significance. It was also performed on the BBC by the composer Alan Rawsthorne in 1965 - for two voices and guitar.) It would be interesting to hear it revived. Trust this is of interest - it's remained with me since i first read it when I was about 18. (If any of your readers could provide the Ian Kiernan track I'd be eternally grateful). . . . I Have no idea how I got on to your emailing list as am not a muso - but I really enjoy receiving it.  Am up in Broome (the world's most isolated town) in the top north-west of Australia. . .   Kind regards, Collyn

(Note: Collyn, the lyrics fit perfectly into the melodic structure of both the American cowboy song, 'Streets of Laredo' and its Irish forebearer,'The Bard of Armagh' so it is obvious to me that MacNeice intended it to be sung. Another great example of how a well-written lyric can stand alone as a poem.)

The Streets of Laredo
(written in 1941)

O early one morning I walked out like Agag,
Early one morning to walk through the fire
Dodging the pythons that leaked on the pavements
With tinkle of glass and tangle of wire;

When grimed to the eyebrows I met an old fireman
Who looked at me wryly and thus did he say;
'The streets of Laredo are closed to all traffic,
We wont' never master this joker today.

'Oh hold the branch tightly and wield the axe brightly,
The bank is in powder, the banker's in hell,
but loot is still free on the streets of Laredo
And when we drive home we drive on the bell.'

Then out from a doorway there sidled a cockney,
A rocking-chair rocking on top of his head:
'O fifty-five years I been feathering my love-nest
And look at it now ­ why, you'd sooner be dead.'

At which there arose from a wound in the asphalt,
His big wig-a-smoulder, Sir Christopher Wren
Saying: 'Let them make hay of the streets of Laredo;
When your ground-rents expire I will build them again.'

Then twanging their bibles with wrath in their nostrils
From Bunhill Fields came Bunyan and Blake:
'Laredo the golden is fallen, is fallen;
Your flame shall not quench nor you thirst shall not slake.'

'I come to Laredo to find me asylum,'
Says Tom Dick and Harry the Wandering Jew;
'They tell me to report at the first police station
But the station is pancaked ­ so what can I do?'

Thus eavesdropping sadly I strolled through Laredo
Perplexed by the dicta misfortunes inspire
Till one low last whisper inviegled my earhole ­
The voice of the Angel, the voice of the fire:

O late, very late have I come to Laredo
A whimsical bride in my new scarlet dress
But at last I took pity on those who were waiting
To see my regalia and feel my caress.

Now ring the bells gaily and play the hose daily,
Put splints on your legs, put a gag on your breath;
O you streets of Laredo, you streets of Laredo,
Lay down the red carpet ­ My dowry is death.


Last night my wife met me at the front door. She was wearing a sexy negligee. The only trouble was, she was coming home.


Favourite Porn Spam of the Week
: Beatrice Subject: Get a Bigger Today!


A hooker once told me she had a headache.

Favourite Review of the Week

The Wind Cries Mary

" You'd be forgiven for thinking Joe Dolce a 'one hit wonder' - his Australian wog classic Shaddap You Face meeting all of the necessary criteria, and quite possibly inventing a few. Unbeknownst to many, however, the Ohio-born Dolce is one hell of a bluesman, as shown here with his heartfelt collection of originals and re-workings. . . . Dolce's guitar work is deceptively complex, weaving in and out of lyrical matter that is often a ball of complexity itself (Gift From One Iraqi Child, September 11th, Hill Of Death). . . Well thought-out and executed, The Wind Cries Mary not only shows Dolce a qualified songwriter, but also a creative and hands-on music fan." MIKE WAFER, XPRESS MAGAZINE, Western Australia. (full review)

(Note: I liked the 'hell of a bluesman' line, but loved the 'hands-on music fan.' Thank you, Mike. I am a perpetual apprentice - but to a multitude of masters, whenever I can overcome the consumptive critic within, that is. This week, for instance, it has been intensive listening and learning from Judy Small's 'Live @ The Artery', Eric Bogle's 'Other People's Children', the soundtrack to 'The Red Violin' by John Corigliano, 'The Divinyls' 'live' DVD (Chrissie Amphlett and Mark McKentree - wow - what a unique and creative team they were!), blissing out on Percy Grainger's soundtrack to the film 'Passion' - and studying various recordings and scores of 'Shallow Brown,' both US and UK versions - as well as performing my own four part 'Evocation of Sappho' for a Sunday morning 70th and attending a performance of Shen Pangeng's Chinese Orchestra, (the same day), who are planning a performance of my Ch'iu Chin poetry setting, 'Perfume Flower,' a Chinese-English language choral work, in 2008.

For those of you who like the blues, however, and the blues harp, here are a couple of Sonny Boy Williamson YouTube performances, and one by James Cotton. Have a look and listen and then I'll tell you my James Cotton and Coca-Cola douche story :

Sonny Boy Williamson
" I declare its a pity, people, ain't this a crying shame, (2x)
The woman wait until it got nine below zero, and put me down for another man."

Your Funeral and My Trial
Sonny Boy Williamson
(Best song title I've heard in a long time.)

Slow Blues
James Cotton
(thanks to Big Frankie Garlic Chitlins)

(Note: Someone posted this comment:

'James Cotton is without a doubt one of the best. When was just 12, I went to my first blues show with my late uncle Vinnie Hall, also a great harp player from the Northeast, in the middle of the show cotton handed his harp and mic to my uncle and made him blow 12 bars of the best blues I have ever heard!!!! That is the day i fell in love bigchuckrac22

Before we go any further, for the youngsters, it might be a good time to refresh our memories on the 'Fundamental Rules for Blues':

Fundamental Rules For Blues

If you are new to Blues music, or like it but never really understood the why and wherefores, here are some very basic rules:

1. Most Blues begin with: "Woke up this morning..."
2. "I got a good woman" is a bad way to begin the Blues, unless you stick something nasty in the next line like, "I got a good woman, with the meanest face in town."
3. The Blues is simple. After you get the first line right, repeat it.
Then find something that rhymes - sort of: "Got a good woman with the meanest face in town. Yes, I got a good woman with the meanest face in town. Got teeth like Margaret Thatcher and she weigh 500 pound."
4. The Blues is not about choice. You stuck in a ditch, you stuck in a ditch...ain't no way out.
5. Blues cars: Chevys, Fords, Cadillacs and broken-down trucks. Blues don't travel in Volvos, BMWs, or Sport Utility Vehicles. Most Blues transportation is a Greyhound bus or a southbound train. Jet aircraft and state-sponsored motor pools ain't even in the running. Walkin' plays a major part in the Blues lifestyle. So does fixin' to die.
6. Teenagers can't sing the Blues. They ain't fixin' to die yet. Adults sing the Blues. In Blues, "adulthood" means being old enough to get the electric chair if you shoot a man in Memphis.
7. Blues can take place in New York City but not in Hawaii or anywhere in Canada. Hard times in Minneapolis or Seattle is probably just clinical depression. Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, Memphis, and Southern Ohio are still the best places to have the Blues. You cannot have the Blues in any place that don't get rain.
8. A man with male pattern baldness ain't the Blues. A woman with male pattern baldness is. Breaking your leg 'cause you were skiing is not the Blues. Breaking your leg 'cause a alligator be chomping on it is.
9. You can't have no Blues in an office or a shopping mall. The lighting is wrong. Go outside to the parking lot or sit by the dumpster.
10. Good places for the Blues:
a. highway
b. jailhouse
c. empty bed
d. bottom of a whiskey glass
e. stuck hitchhiking on a highway outside of Mansfield, Ohio
11. Bad places for the Blues:
a. Nordstrom's
b. gallery openings
c. Ivy League institutions
d. golf courses
12. No one will believe it's the Blues if you wear a suit, 'less you happen to be an old person, and you slept in it.
13. Do you have the right to sing the Blues? Yes, if:
a. you're older than dirt
b. you're blind
c. you shot a man in Memphis
d. you can't be satisfied
e. you wrote 'Shaddap You Face'.
No, if:
a. you have all your teeth
b. you were once blind but now can see
c. the man in Memphis lived
d. you have a 401K or trust fund
14. Blues is not a matter of color. It's a matter of bad luck. Tiger Woods cannot sing the Blues. Sonny Liston could have. Ugly white people also got a leg up on the Blues.
15. If you ask for water and your darlin' gives you gasoline, it's the Blues. Other acceptable Blues beverages are:
a. cheap wine
b. whiskey or bourbon
c. muddy water
d. black coffee
The following are NOT Blues beverages:
a. Perrier
b. Chardonnay
c. Snapple
d. Slim Fast
16. If death occurs in a cheap motel or a shotgun shack, it's a Blues death. Stabbed in the back by a jealous lover is another Blues way to die. So are the electric chair, substance abuse and dying lonely on a broken-down cot or highway (outside of Mansfield, Ohio.)
You can't have a Blues death if you die during a tennis match or while getting liposuction.
17. Some Blues names for women:
a. Sadie
b. Big Mama
c. Bessie
d. Fat River Dumpling
18. Some Blues names for men:
a. Joe
b. Willie
c. Little Willie
d. Big Willie
e. Billy Rae
19. Persons with names like Michelle, Amber, Jennifer, Debbie, and Heather can't sing the Blues no matter how many men they done shot in Memphis.
20. Blues Name Starter Kit
a. name of physical infirmity (Blind, Cripple, Lame, etc.)
b. first name (see above) plus name of fruit (Lemon, Lime, Kiwi, etc.)
c. last name of President (Jefferson, Johnson, Fillmore, etc.) For
example: Blind Lime Jefferson, Pegleg Lemon Johnson or Cripple Kiwi
Fillmore, etc. (Well, maybe not "Kiwi.")
21. And I don't care how tragic your life is, if anyone in your family plays soccer, you can't sing the blues.

Here is my James Cotton story. I saw the James Cotton Blues Band live in the early 70s at La Cave Coffee House in Cleveland. I was living down in Athens County, going to Ohio University, and playing in band called The Headstone Circus, with Jonathan Edwards, and Malcolm and Todd McKinney. We all arrived a month before the school year started and were staying with the McKinney family at their place in nearby Mansfield, Ohio, using their old barn to rehearse our new band material. The Headstone Circus was a peace-and-love psychedelic rock band, against the Vietnam War, and strong advocates of non-violence, Martin Luther King's civil rights and all things sane and sensible. We wanted to be ready to rock and roll when University started as there were some great places to perform, for fun and profit, in Southern Ohio and West Virginia during the school season.
For a break during rehearsal, we decided to drive our band equipment truck (an old second-hand bread truck) three hours up to Cleveland to see the James Cotton Blues Band perform. La Cave was an authentic coffee house that presented mostly folk acts and actually served real American coffee. (I don't think cappachino machines had made it to Ohio yet!) I got a lot of my early music inspiration from shows at La Cave. Paul Butterfield. Jesse Colin Young. Mike Boomfield and Alvin Bishop. (Years ago, when I was much younger, long before I knew how to play the guitar, I had seen the blind guitarist-singer, Jose Feliciano, play a tour-de-force version of 'Flight of the Bumblebee,' on a gut-stringed guitar. His seeing-eye dog sat on stage with him and it chewed through the microphone cable during one of his songs causing his vocals to vanish in the middle of a verse. But I digress . . . .)
James Cotton was memorable, of course; he played like a frying-chicken eating demon and reminded me of a big bear hunched over his harp, choogling back and forth across the stage.
But the most memorable bit was actually after the show. I met a girl that I had known in high school at the show and hadn't seen in a few years. She invited me back to her place for the night. I told the rest of the band members to drive on back to Mansfield without me and I would hitchhike back the next day. (Big Mistake, Joe. Once again, following the little man with the big head instead of the big man with the little head.) We had a passionate night and then both fell asleep. I awoke in the middle of the night to a fizzing sound. My new girlfriend was in the bathroom giving herself a coca-cola douche. (So 'things could go better . . . 'etc.) In the morning, we said kissyface farewells, and I began hitching back down South.
I was about a half hour out of Mansfield on some deserted road. (See Blues Rule 16.) No cars or houses in sight. Then I see a beat-up red Chevy come roaring over the hill. (A Chevy is an Official Blues Car - see Rule 5, above.) I thought my luck had changed and I stuck my thumb out. The car just sped passed me and I noticed four good old boys drinking beer and whooping and hollering. The Stephen King Chevy drove up the road about a hundred yards and then stopped. (Not a good sign.) Then it slowly turned around and started coming back toward me. It pulled up along side of me and the driver yelled out the window, ' What the HELL are you - some kind of girl or something? You one of them San Francisco FAGGOTS?' They obviously noticed my shoulder length hair and tie-dyed bell bottoms. Before I could muster up a coherent reply, his mate sitting shotgun, who was blind drunk and VERY wired said, 'Billy Ray, let me beat the shit out of him,' and started getting out of the car. (note: Billy Rae. See Blues Rule 18). Billy Rae spoke, 'Wait a minute, let me talk to him first. I ain't never seen one of these hippies before.' Luckily, Billy Rae was cool-headed, relatively speaking (I'm positive they were all relatives) and managed to keep the others in a controlled simmer.
We struck a simple deal. They wouldn't outright kill me - and I would go straight home and cut my hair. Seemed fair to me, at the time, being non-violent and all. Billy Rae said that I had better do just that as he knew where I lived. (For some reason, even though I had never seen these guys before and they had never seen me before: I believed he really KNEW where I lived. Fuck, I was in the middle of nowhere. I didn't even know where I lived.) They finally drove off and as soon as the car was out of sight, I shit you not, I RAN the entire distance all the way to Mansfield. My adrenaline level was at an all time high. I found the first phone booth and rang the other band guys who came and picked me up.
To add injury to insult, that little love tryst in Cleveland gave me a drippy case of the clap. For the next month, my underwear looked like one of Picasso's paint palettes. But I didn't cut my hair. Billy Rae never did find out where I live, neither.

I was making love to this girl and she started crying. I said, "Are you going to hate yourself in the morning?" She said, "No, I hate myself now."

The Pause that Refreshes -The Coca-Cola Douche

'Dr. Gerald Bernstein, a USC expert, said he remembers the Coca-Cola douche as a fixture of Southern California teen-age life in the 1960s when, as a young intern and resident physician, he was aware soda pop was widely used as a contraceptive. "It was the thing you did on the beach," Bernstein said.'

Some folks - even health advocates - used to even drink original Coca-Cola to dissolve kidney stones but here's a short newspaper summary from 1985 about the first study undertaken to verify claims about Coke's contraceptive properties:
" . . .Coca-Cola may not be promoting its product as a spermicidal douche, but the idea ain't new. Coke (and Dr Pepper in the southern States) douches have been part of contraceptive lore at least since the 1950s, with the common belief being that the carbonic acid in Coke killed the sperm and the sugar "exploded" the sperm cells, while the carbonation of the drink forced the jet of liquid into the vagina. Back in the 1950s and 1960s, this method of parenthood prevention proved somewhat popular because not only was it cheap and universally available at a time when reliable birth control methods were hard to come by, but it also came in its own handy "shake and shoot" disposable applicator. After intercourse, the girl would uncap a warm Coke, put her thumb over the mouth of the bottle, shake up the beverage, then insert the neck of the bottle in her vagina and move her thumb out of the way. The warm well-shaken Coke became an effervescent spermicidal douche, with the traditional (at that time) six-ounce bottle providing what was deemed to be just the right amount for one application. . ." (article)


The Fugs (remember them? - Tuli Kupferberg and Ed Sanders, and the occasional Allen Ginsberg) had a song out in the late 60s called 'Coca Cola Douche,' which had a more political overtone. (Think about the potential of that for a second!)


" We drew inspiration for The Fugs from a long and varied tradition, going all the way back to the dances of Dionysus in the ancient Greek plays and the "Theory of the Spectacle" in Aristotle's Poetics, and moving forward to the famous premier performance of Alfred Jarry's Ubu Roi in 1896, to the poèmes simultanés of the Dadaists in Zurich's Cabaret Voltaire in 1916, to the jazz-poetry of the Beats, to Charlie Parker's seething sax, to the silence of John Cage, to the calm pushiness of the Happening movement, the songs of the Civil Rights movement, and to our concept that there was oddles of freedom guaranteed by the United States Constitution that was not being used." (article)


I knew a girl so ugly that she was known as a two-bagger. That's when you put a bag over YOUR head in case the bag over HER head comes off.



Eating Alien


Was the Weber Charcoal Barbecue designed from the wreck of an alien spaceship at Roswell in 1947?

With all the talk lately about possibilities of extra-terrestrial invaders one day coming to earth and perhaps using the human race for food, no one seems to have contemplated the other side of the coin: that, in fact, they might be great eating - for us. (See, people just don't think.)

The Argument for Eating Aliens

1. Aliens come here uninvited.
2. They ate Elvis.
3. They mutilate our cattle, and probe abductees by shoving probes in their rectum and performing other unspeakable acts upon unsuspecting victims.
4. They are plentiful, more plentiful than the strained seas and land resources, and they seem to be coming in increasing numbers (if you believe what some people are saying).
5. They are Kosher meat.
6. They taste good if prepared well.
7. According to some, they mess around with the Space Shuttle.
8. Their meat is safer than British Beef.

Now someone out there has done the theoretical culinary research. (Alien Recipes). Some of the subheadings and a brief description of this site:

1. Blues

Blue Aliens are just that, blue in colour, though the shade varies based on age. The rule of thumb is, the deeper the blue colour, the tougher the meat.
2. Greys
Greys are, naturally grey in colour, though they are as tall as blues. It is thought that they come from a colder planet than the blues. Their meat is generally tougher than blues, and also higher in cholesterol.
3. Reptiloids
Their meat has been generally described as similar to crocodile (to be expected), and their legs can be prepared in a similar fashion to "frogs legs", though typically, a single leg will feed a family of 6, generously.
4. Hybrids
Hybrid Aliens are a controversial subject for eating, since they are generally the result of either alien impregnation experiments, or successful, mutually agreed mating between humans and aliens.

There is no need to make the creature suffer unnecessarily, therefore such techniques as snares, rat traps, poisonings etc are extremely discouraged. Bear in mind that the alien may become agitated and strike out.  Don't let the creature bite you, or point a "death ray" at you. If you find yourself in this kind of situation, look at it this way: "It's either you, or it", so take whatever steps are necessary.

Steps to remove the skin include a soaking in warm water to loosen the skin, making it easy to peel.

* Deep Fried Alien
* Paranormal Alien Pyramid Pastries
* Mixed Alien Gumbo
* Blue Stroganoff
* Alien Ragout
* Three Alien Pizza

BBQ Blue Alien

* 1 pound skinned blue alien cut into 3 in strips
* 1/2 cup olive oil
* 1 teaspoon coarse salt
* 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
* 1 cup sliced onions
* 2 cloves garlic, minced
* 3 teaspoons red aji paste
* 2 Poblano chillies, stemmed, seeded and cut into strips
* 1 1/2 cups chopped canned tomato, seeds and juice removed
* 1 teaspoon sugar
* Juice of 1 lime

* Heat the oil in a large saucepan over moderate heat.
* Saute the alien with salt and pepper until just cooked, 3-4 minutes. (Alien, like kangaroo, can become tough when overcooked.)
* Add the onion and cook 5-7 minutes until golden. Add the garlic, aji and poblano and cook until tender, stirring occasionally, 5-7 minutes. Add tomatoes and sugar and continue cooking for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the lime juice. Serve garnished with Garlic Chips on top of Arroz Graneado.


My wife is such a bad cook, in my house we pray after the meal.
(thanks to Bill Lempke)



The world does not need words. It articulates itself
in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path
are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted.
The fluent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being.
The kiss is still fully itself though no words were spoken.
And one word transforms it into something less or other --
illicit, chaste, perfunctory, conjugal, covert.
Even calling it a kiss betrays the fluster of hands
glancing the skin or gripping a shoulder, the slow
arching of neck or knee, the silent touching of tongues.
Yet the stones remain less real to those who cannot
name them, or read the mute syllables graven in silica.
To see a red stone is less than seeing it as jasper --
metamorphic quartz, cousin to the flint the Kiowa
carved as arrowheads. To name is to know and remember.
The sunlight needs no praise piercing the rainclouds,
painting the rocks and leaves with light, then dissolving
each lucent droplet back into the clouds that engendered it.
The daylight needs no praise, and so we praise it always --
greater than ourselves and all the airy words we summon.
~ Dana Gioia ~
(Interrogations at Noon)






Mother Superior called all the nuns together and said to them,
"I must tell you all something. We have a case of Gonorrheae in the convent."
"Thank God," said an elderly nun at the back. "I'm so tired of Chardonnay."
(see Blues Rule 15. Boom boom!)