There's no flour or dairy in this cornbread recipe.

• 2 cups corn meal
• 2 cups nut milk with 1 tbsp lemon juice
• 2 eggs
• 4 tbs bacon grease
• 1 tsp each baking soda & baking powder
• 10" crockery or cast iron pan

How do

1. Preheat oven to 425F. Put the cooking vessel in to pre-heat for about five minutes.
2. Add milk and bacon grease to mixing bowl & heat (microwave, e.g.) until grease melts
3. Add other ingredients and fold gently until uniform.
4. Remove vessel from oven and gingerly coat with grease.
5. Pour batter into vessel, return to oven
6. Bake 18-25 minutes until nicely browned and toothpick comes clean
7. Let it cool on a rack 5-10 minutes at least before cutting in.

This is a good "substrate" cornbread. It holds together well when cooled, and wants stuff added to it, like gravy or butter or honey or jam or what-have-you. I used nut milk + lemon juice because I didn't want to pay for buttermilk and we have a house mate who can't do lactose; we have a nut milk maker here so it's easy enough to produce for cheap.

I imagine you could start by substituting a vegan shortening for the bacon grease to make it 100% hippie-safe, but you'd also need to do something with the eggs which provide the glue to hold it all together.

Found while purging & packing: excerpt from a comedy sketch I wrote during the summer of 2014. Probably NSFW. 

So, I had carpal tunnel surgery on my left hand 3/8. Two weeks later, I got the stitches out and my hand looked like a gutted fish. Recuperated for two weeks and then got the same surgery on my right hand on 4/10. Two weeks later, I got the stitches out and my right hand looked like a gutted fish.

In between, my old roommate, Rick Desautels died of a respiratory infection.

We had been pals and roommates for ten years, during our desperate twenties and into our thirties. He had survived two bouts of chemotherapy for non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. A third roommate, Bernie Lisewski, committed suicide in 2003. We reunited at his memorial service to scatter his ashes. The last time I saw him was in 2004, when I was returning from vacation in Charleston, SC. I stopped in Raleigh and hung out with him for a day. We lost touch after that. In those missing years, he went through another round of chemotherapy. Each successive round took a toll on his heart and lungs. His doctor had recently told him that he had the lungs of an eighty-year old man.

Rick never had a big footprint on the internet. I searched for him from time to time over the years. The only thing I ever found was an arrest record for possession of a weapon of mass destruction. I was only a little surprised and surprisingly proud. (It wasn’t a weapon of mass destruction. It was a training model of an AT-4 rocket propelled grenade.)

In between the time I knew him and his passing he became a staple at a burlesque theater in Raleigh. He would hold down the stage or work the door. He armed the dancers with pepper spray, walked them to their cars, controlled the odd drunk or handsy audience member and generally made himself an invaluable member of the community.

Rick, or as he was known and loved by the burlesque and nerd community in Raleigh, Lord War Bunny, had a massively irreverent sense of humor. He enjoyed tilting at windmills and his lance was humor. Sarcasm was his super power.

His brother Chris described him as a man of intense passion and little ambition. But what Rick cared about most was people. He wanted people to be safe. He might grumble about it, but he’d walk the girls to their cars and make sure they weren’t hassled by the patrons. Even if they’d have to stop for him to catch his breath on the way there. At his memorial the celebrants described how when they entered a new venue for a game, a convention or a performance if they looked around and spotted Lord War Bunny, they knew that was their safe place.

The celebrants at the mundane memorial and the memorial held by the burlesque community for him described how they’d hear that Bunny was in the hospital. And at the next show he’d be standing there next to the stage. His quiet presence reassuring them that everything was okay and nothing was going to go wrong. And it didn’t.

Good job, buddy. You’ve earned your rest. I’ll be along someday. Make sure you save me a seat.

My 5-row landscape QWERTY-lovin' brothah, behold:

TAKE MY MONEY. 

I'm currently using the BlackBerry KeyOne, which honestly, is... fine. It runs Android Nougat, and while I've heard of some KeyOne users getting Oreo pushed to them, I can't imagine I'm gonna be one of them, since Verizon has never blessed this phone. The BlackBerry Key2 never had a CDMA version, so this KeyOne is the latest device I can have on VZW right now. I don't hate the KeyOne-- I just wish I could hide the keyboard and use the full screen for viewing stuff every so often: the permanent portrait keyboard makes the screen kinda a weird size. But the KeyOne's 2-day battery life (I shit you not, and this is with constant use) will be hard to replicate on any phone, I bet. 

My last phone was the Blackberry Priv which I absolutely loved, but it was BB's first Android device and the battery life was ass and it got really really hot sometimes. (I still keep it next to my bed as a wifi only device, though.)

But... FXTec is making this FxTec Pro-1 and it's a landscape slider like our beloved Droids. It's got 5 rows of delicious keyboard action, and i want to rub it on myself. They're only gonna sell it direct, so you get it from them and not from a carrier. I can dig it.

Comes out in July. I kinda hate not being able to play with one before giving them my moneydollars. I also don't really need a new phone yet... my KeyOne is doing fine, honestly. But still... landscape slider... NOM NOM NOM get in mah 2008 mouf! 

Tornado Warning!

I wrote this on Twitter this morning (April 15th), and I'm going to be lazy and copy/paste the tweet-storm:

======================================================

1) Holy crap. I haven't been sleeping well for the last few nights... and last night my body said "ENOUGH." Like a Roomba driving itself back to its dock, my body auto-piloted itself to bed at 11:15. (This is unheard of for me... I usually hit the hay around 4:30am.)

2) Normally I wake up 8-9 times over the course of a night/morning, and like an ass I always check my phone when I wake up, which naturally makes it harder to fall back asleep. This did not happen last night... I slept SO HARD. I knew nothing.

3) I'm also a huge weather and safety nerd; my ears are finely-tuned to detect any and all weather-related sounds (distant thunder, wind, rain, etc.), as well as weird noises in/outside the house. I sleep with one ear open, and these sounds always wake me up. Not last night.

4) I just woke up now (8:43am) to a bazillion missed phone alerts from 3-4am (including one of those incredibly loud Emergency Alerts sent via the Powers The Be™) commanding I "take immediate shelter from the [goddamn] TORNADO." I missed 'em all. That scares me on 2 levels.

5) It scares me 'cuz it's always been my job to be in charge of weather safety. I like keeping aware of wx threats, stocking a modest emergency kit, and making the rare "it's time to get in the basement" call. I like this job. I missed this completely; we could have been hurt.

6) It also scares me that my body was SO exhausted that it could not be awoken, even for a substantial threat, and despite a zillion warnings that surely made my phone scream. What does this say about the state of my anemic body, that a zillion alarms didn't even make me flinch?

7) Anyway, I really hope everyone is safe. I haven't yet looked at damage reports yet (hell; haven't even looked out the window yet) and judging by the sheer number of alerts, I imagine there's gotta be some. I'm just hoping people heeded them and erred on the safe side. (Fin)

======================================================

After I wrote all that, I started investigating why my phone's emergency alert didn't wake me. I keep my phone on Silent 99% of the time; however, I remember when President Cheeto sent that Presidential Alert a few months back, that shizzle came through loud and clear. So why didn't this Actual Alert make a sound? I went digging through my phone's settings and even RTFM and still couldn't find the answer, so... I dunno. 
Anyhoo, there was an F2 tornado that touched down at 3:38am in Sussex County[1], so that tornado warning was real. Thankfully nobody died; I believe there was only one injury caused by a tree falling on someone's house... yikes.

And thankfully, my worry above was for naught... I was really concerned that I slept through crazy alarms that should wake the dead and holy-lord-am-I-that-anemic-and-dead-that-even-that-couldn't-wake-me?! But the alarm was silent, so I just slept like a normal person. No crisis!

Early Birthday Weekend

(I wrote this on April 15th)

My birthday is coming up on Wednesday of this week (me and George Takei!). As an early birthday gift, Matt bought us tickets to see Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden. This is the 4th time we've seen him at MSG since he started his residency, and he sounded amazing, as always. I scored us a hotel near Times Square, and we could see the New Years Eve Ball from our hotel window. Thankfully the hotel entrance is away from the crowd, so we could avoid the tourons and belligerent buskers in Elmo and SpiderMan and Statue of Liberty costumes.  We took the train up (admittedly, a decadent gift to ourselves) and arrived around 3-ish, so we enjoyed the 20-block walk to the hotel, grabbed a cup of coffee and a few fronch macarons along the way, and checked right into the hotel.  After freshening up, we went to our favorite restaurant (a Turkish place, creatively named "Turkish Cuisine,") and had an amazing meal as always, and then walked to MSG.  We entered the venue and took the escalator up to the 100 section, and then walked to the door marked "Sections 111-115." The usher looked at our tickets and said "Oh, NICE! Which one of you bought these tickets?" Matt said, "That was me." The usher turned to me and said, "This guy right here? He done good. Enjoy the show." He handed us off to a different usher who walked us down to our seats... closer and closer to the stage... to the front row of Section 115. HOLY CRAP! We were as close as you could possibly get to the stage without being on the floor... which means we could see absolutely everything. In fact, we were so close that I could read the brand of gear on the sound guy's mixing board. It was SO GREAT!  We sat next to some friendly drunk people in their late 50s and after just generally chatting, our Billy Joel tribute band might get a gig out of the deal. (One of the couples was verrrrrrrry wealthy and had flown up from South Carolina just to see this show. The husband is turning 60 and they want to do something extra amazing for him, so we said, "Why not hire a Billy Joel tribute band?"  The wife gave us her phone number. Who knows?)

After the show, we walked back to the hotel in the pouring rain, and stopped for dessert and a nightcap at Cafe Un Deux Trois, which was lovely. 

The next morning we went to this diner we really like (The Times Square Diner- though don't let the name fool you-- it's not particularly touristy), and then we headed over to Central Park to walk around and then go to the zoo. We got to see the sea lions, all of the amazing birds in the Tropic zone, and also Matt's favorites-- the puffins.

We made sure to leave the zoo by 3:45ish so we could catch a cab to Sam Ash, which is a giant music store right by Penn Station. I needed to pick up a few more percussion gadgets for this Genesis show I'm playing in (see "Percussion" below) and wound up spending almost $450.  Whoops... oh well. Happy Birthday to me, I guess!

Another Birthday...

My brother's birthday and mine are two years + one day apart. He's 4/16 and I'm 4/17. He turns 50 in 14 minutes! For his big 5-0, he decided he wanted to go to the most beautiful place he'd ever seen, which is Assisi, Italy. He went there in high school, when our high school used to arrange annual trips to Europe (which they natually discontinued once it came time for me to be old enough to go). Since 1987 he's been saying it's the most beautiful place he's ever been to, and how he'd give anything to go back. So, they gathered up their immediate family and headed over there. My sister-in-law and my youngest niece left 5 days early so they could visit a friend in Israel, and then they met my brother, my nephew, and my oldest niece in Italy. I'm so happy they're able to experience this all together.  It's also kinda neat that Jack (my nephew) is the same age that Jeff (my brother) was when he first saw Assisi.

We'll be having the Knapp Family Easter Passover Birthday Goulash next weekend in NJ. 

Percussion!

The next musical thing I'm involved in is a live performance of Genesis' double album "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway" with The Rock Orchestra. We're not dressing like Peter Gabriel or anything, but we are playing the hell out of this music.  The band has been rehearsing for about 2 months now, but every weekend they rehearsed I had to be in NJ for something. But for this show, they can definitely rehearse without me, because I'm just playing percussion and provding some secondary backing vocals. (Joe has this other woman Chris singing primary backing vocals. Whenever there are two backing vocal parts at once, I'll jump in. But the percussion is keeping me plenty busy. It's so much fun!)

I sent these tweets on the train ride home:

1: Just spent almost $450 on more percussion toys at @samashmusic in NYC. There's so much fun percussion on Genesis' #TheLambLiesDownOnBroadway, and I get to play it all, twice in one day, with @RockOrchestraDE on Saturday, May 18th at 3pm and 8pm. Shows at  @TheGrandWilm. Wheee!

2: Bought some monkey skulls (pitched woodblocks), mountable castanets, a snake spine (ratchet), & an ultra-lite tambourine for crazy-fast 32nd notes. Also bought 2 expansion trays for my percussion stand for quick/easy access; sometimes I only have 2 beats to switch instruments.

3: Got yet another shaker: This one is REALLY bright/crisp/loud & really cuts through. Has a great feel/swing/weight. My fave purchase: A Flexatone! Gonna follow @Casarino around in case he sees something eerie, catches a chill, or eats Jello. (Helpful Example!) 

OK, gonna post this now.

-------

[1]: Sussex County is Delaware's southernmost county-- we only have three, stacked on top of each other since Delaware is a tall, skinny state. We live in New Castle County, the northernmost one.

 I have 3 CD cases in my car, because apparently I like primitive physical media.  Apparently I also like peppy songs about death.  Not “death metal” or anything so raucous, just “la la la everyone dies”.  So, for your enjoyment and mine, here are Ferret’s music reviews:

Track 1:  Thirty-three presumed dead by drowning.  ***** Five stars, and the holotype example on this album.  It has a very peppy Caribbean beat, and then a shipload of people perish in a hurricane.  At least I assume they perish.  There’s no explanation for the omniscient third person narration, but that’s the most likely interpretation, I believe.

Track 2:  No human deaths, but dead windmills, at least. *

Track 3:  Thousands dead at Gallipoli, in this mournful memoir of war.  ****

Track 4:  No deaths, one possible statutory rape.  Zero stars, do not like.

Track 5:  Dead father, dead nobleman and henchmen, and peasant heads on pikes by morning.  ****

Track 6:  Just one dead deputy sheriff, with attending legal consequences.  ***

Track 7:  One dead knight, with grateful commentary by scavenging birds.  ***

Track 8:  Most of humanity extinguished when someone pushes the button.  Super peppy.  *****

Track 9:  No immediate deaths, just alcoholism.  * One star for amusing ad-lib.

Track 10:  No deaths, but some very unfortunate life choices.  *

Track 11:  No deaths.  Beans.  Do not want.

Track 12:  No deaths, but it’s about sleep, which is somewhat akin.  *

Track 13:  I have no idea what this song is about, or even what LANGUAGE it is supposed to be.  I once put this song on auto-repeat to see how long it would take for a child to figure out that it wasn’t ever going to end.  **

Track 14:  No deaths, just poor life choices and alcoholism.  No thanks.

Track 15:  Three dead brothers, and another one heading away to war.  Kinda peppy, but missing something.  ***

Track 16:  Death is only mentioned once, but tyrants who imprison people and then get their comeuppance is something to sing about.  I’m quite fond of this one.  ****

Track 17:  Probably lots of people dead in battle, but the protagonist is only MOSTLY dead.  His mortal wounds are healed by a witch when she has her way with him.  What’s not to like?  *****

Track 18:  No reported deaths, but this song is all about the fear of death, and losing one’s loved ones.  Be thankful for the time you have.  ****

Track 19:  Mocking the criminal ancestry of Australians.  Meh.

Track 20:  Very catchy, even though nobody dies.  ***

So my ex-husband was fretting about the cost of getting his guitar refurbished. His guitar buying was one of the things I disapproved of when we were married.  How many guitars does a man need?!?? He has like 10 other guitars, but this is the one he plays all the time, and it needs some TLC.

So he was worried about the refurb cost. Then I said "Why don't you just buy a new one?"

The irony does not escape me.

Still living the dream.

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing the lovely and talented Jenn Rice Abrevaya, starring (IMO) in Mamma Mia! Jenn, of course, was brilliant, and despite my cynicism about jukebox musicals, I was emotionally recharged by the show. All it needed was More Jenn. 

I’d expected that MM would continue the traditions of Scandinavian theatre by refuting the themes of Ibsen, that life is a depressing mystery. It seemed clear that MM would posit the mysterious feminine not only in the sun, so distant and rare in Ibsen’s work, but also firmly entrenched in the prison of patriarchal sanction, yet without the pistols or an orphanage to burn down, via the machinery of Swedish disco music. I was wrong and right at the same time. 

Sophie, the alleged protagonist of MM, desires to become the doll of Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. She seeks approval from a father before giving her virginity to a Wall Street wunderkind. In short, she is willfully the golden fatted calf bought and sold. Her mother, Donna (perhaps a Madonna?) is the 1970s sexual-revolution feminist and Circe, trapped on a Greek island, spinning magical experiences for her guests. Like Hedda Gabler, she claims not to need a man for success, but she wants one (as Hedda desired Eilert), for joy, and one for financial stability (as Hedda needed Jørgen). Sophie challenges her mother, saying that she wants to start her life “right,” with a “white wedding” and knowing who is the man responsible for her.  

The book writer for Mamma Mia!, playwright Catherine Johnson, eventually came to her fucking senses at some point while trying to shoehorn in the ABBA hit, “Knowing Me, Knowing You.” At this point, Sophie’s groom and one of the candidates for Daddy tell her that marriage isn’t everything. Though Mom has been saying this all along, because the men in her life finally say it, Sophie listens, and starts thinking about marriage seriously. Much like how Nora and Hedda are forced to behave by Krogstad and Judge Brack respectively, Sophie and Donna continue towards the wedding. Finally, Sophie drops her desire to marry and to find out who her father is, just as Donna chooses to marry and accept financial support from her former lovers. 

Donna chooses the path of patriarchy, from which Ibsen warned early feminists away. Sophie and her young buck shoulder backpacks to travel the world, engaging in the poetic mystery that Eilert and Oswald embraced, leading to their deaths. 

Ibsen was one of the first dramatists to perfect the art of realism in theatre. His descendant in Scandinavian Drama would do well to reject it, choosing Neo-Absurdism, rather than send women a message of kowtowing to the patriarchy via glitter and sequins. Donna preserves her tavern, and gets someone to fix the roof, though Nora abandons her house. The conflict between Ibsen’s feminism and producer Judy Craymer’s post-feminism was best illustrated by this production’s version of “The Winner Takes It All.” Actress (can’t remember) belted this torch song with power, dignity and skill that could blow the roof off of the venue. However, the microphone system strapped to her face gave her voice an electromagnetic hum, barely discernible, yet devastatingly annoying to human ears. The power of women still burns in Scandinavian theatre; sadly, Western audiences must put a ring on it and tame it, in order to sanctify it. 

IN ALL SERIOUSNESS, the singing and dancing were great, performances were solid, the script made me have to think, “If I roll my eyes any harder, I’m going to get a headache.” Obviously, the answer is that I have to write a musical for Jenn to star in. 

In other news:

If I pet Mo Magee as much as she wants, her fur gets so slicked down that she looks like Bastet. 

Hey, Brexit's not going all right
Hey, Brexit's not going all right
What's that floating in the Thames fog?
It's that bellend, Jacob Rees-Mogg

I believe in Mr. Grieve
Bercow's yelling out, "ORDER!"
Northern Ireland's got no border

I believe in Mr. Grieve
Do we have another division? Yup
Do we have another division?

Lalalala, lalalala
Lalalala, lalalala
Got Gove, got Corbyn
Got even ol' Boris Johnson

I believe in Mr. Grieve
Do we have another division? Yup
Do we have another division?
Do we have another division?

May can cry, May can mope
But can she swing for a third vote?
Oh, I believe
In Mr. Grieve
Hey, Brexit's not going all right
Hey, Brexit's not going all right

Enya's still making the same kinda music she made, what, 30 years ago. Not just song patterns, down to the same synth patches and chord changes. Pretty impressive. Most musicians evolve, but if you find a niche that makes bank it's kinda hard to abandon it. Especially when you own a castle.