Monday, August 3, 2015

Stirring Quotes About Soup

"A first-rate soup is more creative 
than a second-rate painting."
~  Abraham Maslow

"Only the pure in heart can make a good soup."
~  Ludwig van Beethoven

"An idealist is one who, on noticing 
that roses smell better than a cabbage, 
concludes that it will also make better soup."
~  H.L. Mencken

"I live on good soup, not on fine words."
~  Molière

"Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a 
cheap restaurant. It is best not to stir them."
~  P.G. Wodehouse

"Soup is a lot like a family. Each ingredient 
enhances the others; each batch has its 
own characteristics; and it needs time
to simmer to reach full flavor."
~  Marge Kennedy

"I've sat looking down into a volcano that could 
blow at any moment; I've helped catch a shark 
and several rattlesnakes; I let a tarantula 
walk across my hand; and I ate rat soup."
~  Alan Alda

"What does 'good in bed' mean to me? 
When I'm sick and stay home from school 
propped up with lots of pillows watching TV 
and my mom brings me soup. That's 'good in bed.'"
~  Brooke Shields

"When I was having that alphabet soup, 
I never thought that it would pay off."
~  Vanna White

"The only thing chicken 
about Israel is their soup."
~  Bob Hope

"Even with my wife, I find sharing soup is hard."
~  Wallace Shawn

"A page of my journal is like a portable soup. 
A little may be diffused into a considerable portion."
~  James Boswell

"What a marvelous resource soup is for the thrifty cook 
– it solves the ham-bone and lamb-bone problems, 
the everlasting Thanksgiving turkey, the extra vegetables."
~  Julia Child

"That's one thing I get neurotic about: 
I need my soup to be crazy hot."
~  Chrissy Teigen

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Songs By Bands With Animal Names, Vol. 3

Just in case the "Vol. 3" in the title wasn't clear enough, this is the third entry in a mini-series of posts featuring songs by bands with animals in their names. If you haven't seen the first two posts, you can read them here and here. In the first post, I covered canines, felines, and hooved animals. Last time, it was primates, bears, and rodents. This time I'm going with aquatic animals (including fish) and birds. As before, the songs will cover a wide variety of musical styles, both old and new. You may not like them all, but I'm sure you'll enjoy a few of them. You might even be familiar with several of them. Without further ado, here we go...


1)  Seal  ~  "Crazy"

2)  Freelance Whales  ~  "Enzymes"

3)  The Hippos  ~  "Wasting My Life"

4)  Phish  ~  "Down With Disease"

5)  Hootie & The Blowfish  ~  "Hold My Hand"

6)  eels  ~  "Last Stop: This Town"

7)  Blue Oyster Cult  ~  "Don't Fear The Reaper"


1)  The Byrds  ~  "Turn! Turn! Turn!"

2)  The Flamingos  ~  "I Only Have Eyes For You"

3)  The Yardbirds  ~  "For Your Love"

4)  Owl City  ~  "Vanilla Twilight"

5)  The Black Crowes  ~  "She Talks To Angels"

6)  Sheryl Crow  ~  "The First Cut Is The Deepest"

7)  Counting Crows  ~  "Mr. Jones"

8)  The Eagles  ~  "Desperado"

9)  A Flock Of Seagulls  ~  "I Ran (So Far Away)"

10)  Them Crooked Vultures  ~  "New Fang"

11)  Doves  ~  "Kingdom Of Rust"

12)  Hawk Nelson  ~  "Live Life Loud"

Interesting Quotes By People Whose Last Name Starts With "Z"

1)  "Luck is merely an illusion, trusted by the ignorant and chased by the foolish."  ~  Timothy Zahn, writer

2)  "Explosions are not comfortable."  ~  Yevgeny Zamyatin, novelist

3)  "The Past: Our cradle, not our prison; there is danger as well as appeal in its glamor. The past is for inspiration, not imitation, for continuation, not repetition."  ~  Israel Zangwill, novelist

4)  "If two men on a job agree all the time, then one is useless. If they disagree all the time, then both are useless."  ~  Darryl F. Zanuck, film director

5)  "My one purpose in life is to serve as a warning to others."  ~  Jamie Zawinski, computer programmer

"When you are about to die, a wombat is better than no company at all."  ~  Roger Zelazny, writer

7)  "I believe in love, but I don't sit around waiting for it. I buy houses."  ~  Renee Zellweger, actress

8)  "No evil is honorable: but death is honorable; therefore death is not evil."  ~  Citium Zeno, philosopher

9)  "There are a lot of women who live with pot-bellied pigs."  ~  Catherine Zeta-Jones, actress

10)  "Enjoy every sandwich."  ~  Warren Zevon, musician

11)  "You should examine yourself daily. If you find faults, you should correct them. When you find none, you should try even harder."  ~  Xi Zhi, philosopher

12)  "We cling to our own point of view, as though everything depended on it. Yet our opinions have no permanence; like autumn and winter, they gradually pass away."  ~  Zhuangzi, philosopher

13)  "I once tried thinking for an entire day, but I found it less valuable than one moment of study."  ~  Xun Zi, philosopher

14)  "Your attitude, not your aptitude, will determine your altitude."  ~  Zig Ziglar, author

15)  "One forges one's style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines."  ~  Emile Zola, novelist

16)  "You can't buy time or save it, common idioms notwithstanding. You can only spend it."  ~  Eric Zorn, journalist

17)  "Move fast and break things. Unless you are breaking stuff, you are not moving fast enough."  ~  Mark Zuckerberg, businessman

18)  "The first step toward liberty is to miss liberty; the second, to seek it; the third, to find it."  ~  Leopold Zunz, clergyman

19)  "In history as in human life, regret does not bring back a lost moment and a thousand years will not recover something lost in a single hour."  ~  Stefan Zweig, writer

20)  "I look at modern life and I see people not taking responsibility for their lives. The temptation to blame, to find external causes to one's own issues is something that is particularly modern. I know that personally I find that sense of responsibility interesting."  ~  Edward Zwick, film director

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Story #30: "The Malapropistic Minister"

Okay, here we go! My June Writing Challenge to myself was to write 30 stories in 30 days and publish them here on the blog. That's right, #astoryaday for an entire month. And with this story, I have officially completed my goal. I'm not sure if this is the worst thing (taste-wise) or the funniest thing I've written all month. But here it is nonetheless. I should probably define the term "malapropism" (of which "malapropistic" is a derivative) for those who aren't familiar with it. According to Merriam-Webster, a malapropism is "an amusing error that occurs when a person mistakenly uses a word that sounds like another word but that has a very different meaning."  Enjoy?  ~  JH

"The Malapropistic Minister"

Good morning to you! Let's try that one more time! I said: Good morning to you! That's better! It is truly a blessing to see all your smiting faces this morning. Turn to your neighbor and tell them, "It's a good day to be in the horse of the Lord." Amen! Palm 118, verse 24 says, "This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be clad in it." Song 100, verse 4 impales us to "enter into His grates with thanksgiving, and into His course with praise." Amen? Amen! A couple of prayer upstates to share with you this morning before we bow to rescind our offering. Millicent Stopper's gallbladder obfuscation went reminiscently well and she was able to go home from the hospitable on Friday evening. Slim Yumping is scheduled for a follow-up visit with his ornithologist this coming Tuesday, to determine whether or not he is going to need Tommy Chong surgery. Beverly Honeysuckle is going to remain in the Re/Max center for a couple more days while she recovers from her most recent heart amputation. And finally, Julian Watermark asks us to remember his sister, Earlene Vodka, in ferment prayer. She is suffering from Stage 3 esoteric cankers and, at least as far as Julian knows, she is unsolved. Let us play…

Story #29: "Running Away From Homeless"

Okay, I'm almost there. It's still Day 30, and this is now Story #29 of my #astoryaday June Writing Challenge. One more story left to write. This one here derived from a (supposedly) clever title I'd come up with weeks ago. I finally thought up an appropriate story (supposedly) to accompany said title. Hope you like it. If you don't, that's okay. Thanks for sticking with me this far if you have.  ~  JH

"Running Away From Homeless"

I have this recurring nightmare in which I am running at top speed from a dingily dressed man waving a cardboard sign that reads: "HOMELESS VET PLEASE HELP GOB BLESS." 

It's not the man himself that frightens me, or even the way he is dressed. It's that typo on his sign that frankly scares me to death.

Did he mean to write "GOD BLESS"? That would be the logical conclusion, and one can only hope that was his intention. But what if it wasn't?

Could it be that the man is actually a life-size turkey disguised as a human and the sign is supposed to read "GOBBLES"? Could he know that I am terrified of all species of birds, but most especially the kinds that walk on two legs and fly infrequently? Oh, the horrors!

Or maybe the message means just what it says. That his goal, in chasing me down, is to "BLESS" me with a "GOB" of…of what? Phlegm? Partially digested bananas? Blood? I start to shudder just thinking about it again! And no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about it!

I've made various attempts to send myself off into a peaceful slumber, free from this terrifying reverie, by reading about completely unrelated things right before I fall asleep. Like An Ecological Approach To Turnip Farming, for instance, or the latest issue of Stamps Monthly. But it's all to no avail.

Perhaps I am doomed to sleep, perchance to dream of the homeless vet/turkey-man/phlegm-spewer every night for the rest of my life, and there is no way to make him go away. 

Or maybe, just maybe, the next time I see an actual person in need in my waking hours – whether it be a homeless vet, a struggling single mother, or whomever else – I should extend my hand and if needs be the contents of my wallet to help them. Maybe my reticence to do so is the greatest purveyor of nightmares of all.

Story #28: "A Word In Edgewise"

Here's Story #28 in my #astoryaday June Writing Challenge. I bet we all have one friend (or ex-friend) like this guy. Either of them, actually. Enjoy?  ~  JH

"A Word In Edgewise"

"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about! That confounded attitude of yours is gonna get us both in trouble one of these days!"

This isn't the first time Rodney has gotten on my case today without provocation. In fact, it is the eighth. The first seven times, I tried to shrug it off without saying anything, which only further served to "get his goat," as Rodney likes to say. But I'm getting pretty tired of hearing him jaw at me over any and everything, and now it's time to nip it in the bud.

"Rodney, you and me – we've been friends for a long time now, right?"

"Right, but –"

"And in the course of our long-standing friendship, we've had some pretty good times, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, but –"

"And also during that time, we've had our fair share of disagreements, wouldn't you also agree with that?"

"I reckon, but –"

"And through it all, Rodney, wouldn't you say that I have been a faithful friend to you no matter what?"

"Well, sure, but –"

"But what, Rodney? Why must there always be a 'but'? Why do you always insist on having the last word – and indeed, nine out of ten words – on every little thing? Does it make you feel powerful? Does it make you feel in control?"

"I don't –"

"If so, why do you feel the need to control me? What did I do to deserve it? What's in it for you?"

"I –"

"Answer me, Rodney!"

"Well, I would, but –"

"There's that word 'but' again! Why do you always have to get so defensive about everything?"

"I ain't never known you to go off on anybody like this, much less on me! What gives?"

"You never really gave me much chance to, did you, Rodney? You're a talker, no question about that, but you're the poorest listener I've ever met, and I've known some real doozies."

"Well, I'm sorry, but –"

"That again! Rodney, I'm tired of hearing myself talk, because I've already made my point at least half a dozen times now. But I'm even more tired of hearing you talk. Why don't you take your 'confounded attitude' and hit the road, before I have to show you what trouble really is!"

"But – OUCH! Hey, what the –? Ugh, alright, alright, I'm going!"

Story #27: "Where This Finger's Been"

It's Day 30 – otherwise known as "do or die day" – in my #astoryaday June Writing Challenge. This is Story #27. One more story is already in the hopper. The other two are yet to be written. We'll see if this all comes together. I didn't know where this particular story was going until it was finished, and I was surprised by the outcome. Like a few other stories I've written this month, the narrator/protagonist here is female, so you should read it with that in mind. Oh yeah, and enjoy!  ~  JH

"Where This Finger's Been"

You don't know where this finger's been. If you did, you'd treat it – and me – with a lot more respect.

When I was ten years old, in front a packed courtroom, this finger pointed accusingly at the man before me who had stolen my innocence a few months earlier. He had lured me into his clutches by posing as an undercover police officer, and I believed him. My rapist was subsequently convicted and sentenced to spend the remainder of his life behind bars.

When I was eighteen years old, this finger – along with its digital companions – grasped the hand of my friend Stacy and pulled her to safety. The two of us had been rock-climbing in the mountains, and Stacy had slipped over the edge at the precipice, shortly after having disengaged her safety harness.

When I was twenty-four years old, this finger caressed the cheek of the man with whom I would soon be spending the rest of my days. He'd just graced the next-to-last finger on this same hand with a gleaming diamond ring. I reinforced my "yes" with a long, passionate kiss.

Two years later, this finger first grasped the tiny palm of my newborn daughter. She'd been born eight weeks prematurely. It would be several weeks yet before I would be able to hold her in my arms for the first time. I would be hard-pressed to ever let her go thereafter.

Early this morning, this finger was clutching the trigger of a gun. The gun was aimed at the head of the man who violated me all those years ago. He had escaped, or been paroled, it didn't matter which. What did was that he was here, that he had found me. In that moment, my daughter was cowering next to the body of my dead husband in the bedroom adjacent to where I stood. 

I hadn't heard the glass break on the French doors in the kitchen. I hadn't heard my husband cry out, though my daughter told me afterwards that she had. I had been upstairs asleep. My husband had come down to grab a drink of water and had surprised the intruder.

This finger was sweating and trembling more than a little as it hovered over the trigger of that instrument of death. I knew, if my daughter and I were going to survive, that I must squeeze it. The gun I held was that my rapist's. How I had wrested it from his grip was and still remains beyond my recollection. But I had it nonetheless, and I was going to have to use it.

The blast was deafening, but it hit its mark. In that horribly triumphant moment, I relaxed this finger for the first time in a very long while.