Twist and Shout

Glory Days

It is damn fine outside, the Reds are on the radio and I'm getting some work done out there.  They probably won't read this, but I'd like to get out on the quad today and throw the ball around with McGillicuddy and Regan.  Guys, this song is for you.

Graffiti Artists Strike Back

Awesome, via Balloon Juice.

Ready for the Weekend

I think this song summarizes my mood, and it was also my grandma's favorite song toward the end of her life.

Cod-Napping

The Sacred Cod

I missed this item yesterday, but on April 26, 1933, the Sacred Cod of the Massachusetts House of Representatives was stolen by members of the Harvard Lampoon:

On April 26, 1933, members of the Harvard Lampoon magazine stole the Sacred Cod as a practical joke in an event that came to be known as "The Cod-napping".
Three members of the Lampoon staff pretending to be tourists, sneaked a pair of wire cutters into the State House and, when no one was looking, cut the cords suspending the cod. They hid the cod in a flower box that they had brought for that purpose and left the State House with it. An anonymous call tipped off State House officials that the cod was missing. The theft was considered a major one, with the House of Representatives declaring that it would not legislate without the cod present. The Harvard Crimson investigated the theft themselves and determined that the Lampoon was behind it. On April 27, the Crimson gave the staff of the Lampoon an ultimatum to give the Sacred Cod, by midnight, to them and allow the Crimson to take credit for returning it or they would go public with their findings. After not receiving a reply from the Lampoon, the details of theft were printed in the next morning's edition of the Crimson.
The Massachusetts State Police were called in to assist with the search for the cod. They went so far as to dredge the Charles River, in hopes of recovering the Sacred Cod.  The authorities also found out that a member of the Lampoon staff was on board a plane heading to Newark, New Jersey. They searched Logan International Airport and wired the authorities in Newark to search the plane the student was on when it arrived, but the cod was still not recovered.  The office of the mayor of Boston also received a call saying to "tell the Mayor that when the Sacred Cod is returned it will be wrapped in the municipal flag, now flying in front of City Hall" and to "Try and catch us when we cop the flag."
Two days after the Sacred Cod was stolen, the Harvard University Police Department received an anonymous phone call informing them on how to get the Sacred Cod back. This led to the Harvard University Police following a car without a license plate in West Roxbury. After 20 minutes, two men, dressed in collared shirts with the collars turned up and hats pulled down, jumped out of the car and handed the cod to the police before speeding away. The cod was not wrapped in the municipal flag as threatened.
On April 28, the Sacred Cod was again hung in the rear of the House Chamber, over the public gallery, only this time it was hung 6 inches (150 mm) higher to prevent future thefts. No charges have ever been filed against anyone for the "Cod-napping", and the details on the whereabouts of the cod, during the 50 hours it was missing, never surfaced.
The next threat to the Sacred Cod came in 1941, when the Aluminum-for-defense Collection Drive in Massachusetts was mistakenly informed that the Cod was made of aluminum, and asked that it be donated to the war effort. Christian Herter, the Speaker of the House at the time, informed the drive that the Cod was created 43 years before aluminum was discovered. Herter passed the request along to the Massachusetts State Senate where another fish emblem is displayed.
In 1968 the Sacred Cod disappeared for a second time. it was found three days later behind a door in the House chamber.

I can tell you from experience that folks at the Massachusetts State House are pretty serious about that thing.  They really bragged it up on a tour of the State House.  I'm sure glad they got it back.  And now you can continue your day.

Oh My

Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers (via Balloon Juice).  Disturbing.

Is that Jesus?

Foghorn Leghorn Sits Out the 2012 Campaign

So, Haley Barbour, the former tobacco lobbyist, former RNC chairman and White Citizens' Council supporter won't run for President.  That means I'll have to go to YouTube to hear a Southern drawl and folksy sayings.

Musical Break

This is a great song, but that is one ugly ass shirt.

Naked Capitalism Link of the Day

Today's Link: 10 Charts About Sex, at OkTrends.  This is a very funny, even if it may not be true.  One of my favorites:

Anyway, it features the map which they consider one of the very first infographics, depicting Napoleon's invasion and retreat from Russia, which I consider extremely cool:

as it says at the link:

Later remembered as "the map that made a nation cry", it depicts Napoleon's failed invasion of Russia in 1812. The wide tan swath shows his Grande Armée, almost half a million strong, marching East to Moscow; the black trickle shows the few who straggled back. It's an elegant fusion of geography, time, and temperature into a single statement of military disaster.

Bad Jokes

Best Fair Foods

Here.

The one I want to try:

Chicken-Fried Bacon

Texas (bigtex.com)

This ode to bacon won the award for Best Taste at the 2008 Big Tex Choice Awards. Creator Glen Kusak had been a fair vendor for 12 years running, but 2008 marked his first year entering the annual State Fair of Texas food contest.

We fried pickles, oreos, twinkies, hohos, a Snickers bar a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a piece of cake at a couple of our fish fries this year.  The Twinkies were the best.

Beer Break

In honor of the end of Prohibition for beer, 78 years ago, it's time to call it a day.

Hello, My Baby

One of my all-time favorites:

Off to Fry Fish

Joe Biden-A Guy I'd Drink a Beer With

Except Joe doesn't drink.  He seems to be one of those guys that is very interesting to talk to once in a great while, but he'd become tiresome if you talked to him every day.  Here are a couple of interesting posts about the Vice-President, both from when he was nominated for VP.  First, Alex Massie discusses Biden as the bloviator at the bar:

He's the sort of man I've met many a time in Irish pubs. Biden will tell you, at some length for sure, all about his plans for the future, how he's on the cusp of greatness just waiting for that last piece to fall neatly into place. The fact that  - stubbornly - it has never yet done so deters him not a bit. Next time, lads, next time...UPDATE: See what I mean! Priceless!
He'll often seem as though he's auditioning for the position of Official Pub Bore but then every so often there'll be a flash of wit or a moment of self-deprecation that punctures the bluster and bombast, rendering Biden warm and human.
You can picture him propping up one end of the bar for thirty years; long enough for all to be forgiven, all ancient battles and blunders forgotten as we grow older, more charitable, more sentimental. Biden's the sort of fellow who'll make a wildly inappropriate and suggestive comment about your wife. To your face. On your wedding day. But he'll do so in such a guileless fashion free from any hint of malice that, dash it and almost half despite yourself, you forgive the silly old fool. He was, you realise, probably trying to ay something complimentary.

The second post exceprts Richard Ben Cramer's 1988 campaign book, "What it Takes," talking about Biden's old mansion, and all the difficulties he has and creates for himself trying to fix it up:

Meanwhile, he planted. He liked hemlock trees. He found some old Czech guy who ran a nursery up in Pennsylvania. Joe didn't want any three-foot saplings, no. This guy had big hemlocks. Rhododendron bushes, great ones. Yews--big old yews! See, Joe had to have privacy. When he started have to sell off lots, he had to plant more, so he'd have privacy. ...
His pal Marty was with him that day: Marty Londergan, a dentist, Joe's buddy from high school. "Joe," Marty said. "How we gonna get all this shit back?"
"Get a truck," Joe said. Like everybody's brother had a forty-foot flatbed in the garage.
"Yeah," Marty said. "Who's gonna drive it?"
"I'll drive," Joe said. "Used to drive 'em all the time."

Sure enough, Marty found somebody's brother who'd lend a truck, and Joe drove the thing, overloaded, rocking and pitching, with trees hanging off the tail, down the back roads, an hour and a half, back to Wilmington. Then he started digging--a forty-five-foot trench, three feet deep and three feet wide, through blacktop and paving stones. He was out there in gym shorts and hiking boots, sweating like a pig, with the headlights of four cars shining upon his ditch, with Jill leaning out the window to yell, "Come to bed, honey!" ... while an old friend or two propped the trees and bushes up in the ditch, so Joe could wall away his realm.
"No, tighter!" Joe'd say.
"I don't know, Joe..."
"Tighter," Joe said. He had to have privacy. The rhododendrons, he planted them two feet apart. Next weekend, he's back for yews. He built a wall of yews around the swimming pool. Never mind there was no room for them to spread their roots.
"Whaddya think?" Joe asked, grinning.
Two years, of course, they're all dead.

Finally, the Atlantic sizes up Biden as VP, dealmaker and go-to guy for a different opinion.  I could definitely put up with the guy telling stories for a couple of hours some night as I drink a few beers and want to hear something entertaining.

Hiding the Big News

Barry Ritholtz:

The following narrative and news item comes my way via a professional journalist (cue the oxymoron jokes) friend.  Emphasis mine:

Now, when you’re in the sports information business, you generally highlight the exploits of your own team, not your opponents. With very, very, very rare exceptions. I’d say the eighth Division I perfect game in the last half-century might be one of those rare exceptions.
But nope, I’d be wrong. Because here is the George Washington write-up of the game:

Worst First Pitch Evah

Mark Mallory will never live this down no matter how many times he appears on "Undercover Boss."

Off to Fry Fish

A little music for your listening enjoyment:


Also, from a reader at the Dish:

They say creepy, I say funny.