Who am I to blame?

Nobel Medal, Prize for Physics (medal)

Is anyone as surprised as I am that the Nobel Prize in Literature went to an old pasty white dude?

I’m mean, it’s only been four years since the last one was selected with Peter Handke, and five years before that since Patrick Modiano was selected, and three years before that since Tomas Tranströmer was selected.

Of course, Bob Dylan doesn’t count in 2016, because, well, wtf was that all about anyway?

Nor does Kazuo Ishiguro in 2017, unless you are of the mindset of the former South African apartheid government and regard those of East Asian descendancy as honorary whites.

Of course in this day and age it is treading in dangerous territory to assume the particulars of anyone’s identity, even that of assumed pasty old white dudes such as mentioned above, sans Ishiguro of course.

But I’m pretty damn confident of my assumptions.

Come to think of it, that’s a whole lot of old white dudes selected for the NPL in just a little over the past decade.

What’s up with that?

I thought, with the state of the world as it is, with global sensibilities as they are, old pasty white dudes were persona non grata when it comes to just about any form of praise or recognition.

Oui, no?

It certainly is a oui for me and I’m as old and male and pasty white as they come.

I say, to hell with old pasty white dudes, regardless of their particular talents, or lack thereof.

Can I get an amen?

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You know, sometimes it’s okay to meet your hero…

George Winston in pencil with graphic design
George Winston as rendered by an admiring fan

Rest forever, hero, in the peace and comfort you and your music has provided to so many…

The following article was originally published in November 2014.


Most of what little refinement I have can be attributed to my lovely and loving wife.

I would say all of it could be attributed to her, but I do have a pretty good three-object juggling technique that I’ve worked hard on over the years to perfect.

Metaphorically speaking, the wife can juggle just about anything thrown her way; non-metaphorically speaking, however, she’s not a juggler by any stretch of the imagination.

But other than my juggling skills, just about anything else refined about me — especially anything artistic or intellectual — more than likely has its foundation somewhere within in my wife’s lovely and loving intellectual and artistic brain.

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Only those with a big one can see it…

There is a very familiar shape in the picture of the stack of wood I shared last week, but I doubt that everyone can see it*. Kind of like how only the chosen ones can see the face of the Virgin Mary in their toast… but different. *If you’re having a hard time seeing the … Read more

Starbucks and Mocha

The New York Times’ recent piece Melville’s Whale Was a Warning We Failed to Heed is actually a quite serious look at human nature, racism, the environment… but here is a fun selection from it that belies its erudition: Melville had read Jeremiah Reynolds’s violent account of a sperm whale “white as wool,” named — … Read more

If I were the ruling megalomaniac of the world…

I would appoint a very select and trusted group of high-level advisors who were each intimately familiar with my intellectual and creative sensibilities and desires and whose sole purpose would be to continually study and field test all germane and pertaining resources and outlets so that they could come to a consensus among themselves and … Read more