THAT’S WILD

There’s a bar in downtown Hopkins, MN called the Wild Boar. But if you look over the menu, you will find no feral options like bison, elk or deer. Sure, you can get Thai cream cheese wontons with dragon sauce, but that’s as wild as it gets.

Maybe it’s for the best – not serving wild animals like pheasant – considering the only adjective you can use after trying wild game is gamy. Gamy is not a great culinary word. Gamy is a word you use when whiffing your socks after spending a day hunting wild boar.

 

FAR FROM HEAVEN

Speaking of wild food, how come manna is never on the menu? After all, it kept the Israelites alive in the desert for forty years. You’d think it would be next to the kale at the salad bar. And not just the salad bar but everywhere: Michelin restaurants, corner bodegas, truck stops, dive bars, patisseries, even the far reaches of the Sahara. Bread of the angels, so says Psalm 78, tasting like honey, providing eternal life.

Actually, what is manna?

Manna: A sweet exudation from a plant, caused by scale insects or aphids feeding on it.

Exudation: The slow seepage of liquids through pores.

I’ll stick with the dragon sauce.

 

UNFASHIONABLE

There is an upscale store in Edina, MN called Hobo. The first time I saw the name I thought it was a five-star soup kitchen. But there are no pots and pans. Instead, women’s clothing, expensive clothing, not the kind of fabric a hobo uses to make a bindle.

So why the name? On the website the word is capitalized with a period behind each letter. An acronym! Like goat, does hobo gain greater stature when capitalized?

H.O.B.O.

I’m sorry, I can only come up with Holy Offensive Body Odor.

 

PROPERLY PEEVED

I’m reading an article about Kathy Cargill and her run-in with the mayor of Duluth, MN, Robert Reinert.

Context: Kathy Cargill (Corporation) is beyond rich, and she has been using her fortune to buy houses (twenty so far), houses that surround her summer home, a home that sits on a wisp of land stretching into Lake Superior.

Twenty is a lot when it comes to homes. So the town was wondering, “What’s the plan?” The mayor even sent a letter (quite formal) to Cargill asking the question.

Well, Cargill did not bake cookies and invite the mayor over for tea. Instead, she dashed off to the Wall Street Journal (quite rich) to complain how poorly she had been treated, saying the mayor: “… kind of peed in his Cheerios.”

Why would the mayor pee on his breakfast cereal? Was it a dare, a protest or simply an accident?

MAYOR REINERT: Oh, no, not again! And the coffee, too?

 

GOOD BOY

Did you know some states have an official dog. Some make sense, like the Malamute, a hardy breed that can easily survive Alaskan winters. Also, the Boston Terrier, not the biggest or brightest canine, but perhaps the most suitable for Massachusetts’s largest city. Then there is Tennessee with its Bluetick Coonhound.

Why would you want a dog covered in ticks and smelling like a raccoon as an official anything? Is it really a good idea to let a pathogen spreader roam the halls of the capitol, especially with lobbyists already there? Maybe Tennessee should co-adopt Connecticut’s proposed state dog, the Bluestock Tradehound.

 

THE HONORABLE

In the previous post I stated that some people’s names nicely align with their profession. Such is not the case when it comes to certain members of an august body. I mean, who wants to vote for a United States senator who slaps two first names onto a campaign button.

Rick Scott – FL
Tim Scott – SC
Jack Reed – RI

Not a stirring list. Still, better than:

Mike Crapo – ID
John Boozman – AR
Tom Carper – DE

Then you have Chris Coons from Delaware. Shouldn’t there be a rule that no elected official can share the same name with a nocturnal dumpster diver, especially when you find out the senator’s nickname in college was “Blue Tick.”

 

PANHANDLERS

Most states have a sensible shape, giving a sense of collegiality when interacting with neighbors. Then there is Texas with its shared border with Oklahoma, a border that slowly ambles along the Red River until, out of nowhere, the line shoots straight north, severing the western third of Oklahoma as if Texas decided, “We don’t need any more of you!”

Then 170 miles into the incursion the line just stops. Why? Did Texas feel guilty about the land grab? Did it leave a sliver, one could say a panhandle, as if anyone needing to move Oklahoma in the future would know which end to grab?

Then there is Florida.

Waterfront property is prized real estate, and from Jacksonville to Pensacola, Florida is one long beach front. But wait. Shouldn’t some of the sand belong to Alabama? Why does Florida barely leave its neighbor an ocean view? Shouldn’t Florida be a peninsula instead of a lopsided boomerang? You almost want to toss it into the ocean if it wasn’t for the fact that it would circle over the water and come right back.

Finally, Maryland.

I don’t know what to think of this state. It doesn’t even look like one. It looks like someone used a hot glue gun and pieces from five different puzzles. Just look at its panhandle, sketchy like a hacksaw with missing teeth, its thinnest point wedged between West Virginia and Pennsylvania.

Maryland looks like it took itself to divorce court, and the eastern half got the oceanfront property while the western part was left with the rustic cabin.

 

HELP!

I’ve never been a big fan of the Beatles. I know I’m in the minority. It’s just that I don’t particularly like their music. Is it their sound, lyrics or something as simple as the title to their songs?

“Hello, Goodbye” – Which one is it?

“Money Can’t Buy Me Love” – Everyone loves the person looking to spend.

“Eight Days a Week” – Does this extra day fall in the middle of the week or kick off a three-day weekend?

“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” – Is the guitar in tune?

“All You Need Is Love” – Oxygen seems important when singing about needing love.

“Love Me Do” – Oh, Tarzan, such romantic.

“Here Comes the Sun” – Thanks for the weather update.

“Rain” – I thought you said it was going to be sunny?

“I’ll Follow the Sun” – So we’re back to your original forecast?

“You Can’t Do That” – I’m not the one all over the weather map.

“I’ve Got a Feeling” – Back to rain?

“The Night Before” – Not then. Now! What’s the weather now?

“Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds” – Great, hail.

Exception: “Blackbird,” a great song, simply wonderful. If only the Beach Boys had written it. But the bird would have to be a seagull, right?

Actually, what is the California state bird?

How can it be a quail? Shouldn’t the California state bird be semi-aquatic? How about the Black Oystercatcher? Then the lyrics can be:

Blackbird catching oysters in the dead of night
Fake eighth day making for a long, long life
Been working like a Malamute with sunken eyes
Here comes the sun
No, that’s the lighthouse
Here comes the sun
No, that’s a beam of light coming from the lighthouse
Here comes the sun
IT IS THE LIGHTHOUSE!!!
I’m so tired
I should be sleeping like a….
Like a…
What rhymes with Malamute?