What training does one need to be an Executioner?
Admittedly, Sister Madly has never seen Executioner listed as college major, so the courses one must take for this profession must be wide and varied- business management, for example, and art theory- much like how one needs a degree in Philosophy to be a professional dog-walker.*
* The employment ad for aforementioned dog-walker position stated, ‘degree in any field,’ which clearly meant Philosophy.
Then again, does one even need a degree in Execution? Or does the discipline provide on-the-job-training? Is it all based upon experience? There’s a small arsenal of medieval weaponry under her bed ready to be used at a moment’s notice; perhaps Sister Madly ought to add a few souls to her repertoire thus expanding her resumé. Execution-ing is quickly becoming a lost art.
The Professor, however, with his undetectable sense of humor * and a crippling fear of Cheeto dust, clearly disapproved of this rumination.
* Make no mistake, the Professor had a sense of humor- just not a detectable one.
So Persephone can declare at which strip club she saw her first cockroach- and do so without reproach- but Sister Madly cannot speculate about a career change? What if she’s a natural? She was pretty good at axe-throwing at the Ren Faire back in the day… surely that means something.
The Professor, however, indicated that he was not interested in discussing Capital Punishment on his night off.
Who said anything about Capital Punishment? Perhaps Sister Madly doesn’t want to be a government employee; perhaps she wants to freelance. She could contract her services, be her own boss- the entrepreneurial spirit runs strong through the Madly Family Tree. No doubt her own sister, Tallulah, would utilize these talents from time to time- everybody knows how cutthroat retired, part-time antique dealers can be.
Still, the Professor wanted to change the subject, and Sister Madly is nothing if not accommodating.
…Sister Madly had a dream the other night that Tallulah got a French Bulldog, whom she named Johnny Popcorn…
While said Professor was unable to follow the storyline, he did manage to question why it was a French Bulldog.*
* Sister Madly wondered that, too, as she would’ve chosen a fox or an otter; but it was Tallulah’s dog in the dream, so clearly it was Tallulah who chose a French Bulldog and he should ask her.
…Ever try oyster sauce straight from the bottle? Sister Madly won’t be making that mistake again…!
Nope. Too controversial.
What would you do if you found out that Sister Madly was actually your imaginary friend?
Oh no- that was just too traumatizing to consider.
… A few months ago was Sister Madly’s half-birthday…
Apparently, the Professor was unfamiliar with the Half-Birthday, a phenomenon Sister Madly’s encountered quite frequently ever since leaving Michigan. It seems nobody outside the Midwest is interested in celebrating the halfway point to their next birthday. Sister Madly, however, is much more diplomatic and graciously allows people to buy her ciders on that magnificent day.
You see, that is why it’s important to determine the avenues one must take to be an Executioner: to give those launching down the destructive path of tasting oyster sauce straight from the bottle- and the subsequent discussion thereof- the means to a brighter future! As it stands, Sister Madly is one tedious tête-à-tête away from a PhD in Small-Talk.
… but seriously, about that Executioner thing- does one need a degree, or is it all about experience?
THAI BASIL LEMONGRASS WINGS
- 3-3½ lbs. chicken wings ~ OR ~ 6-8 bone-in chicken thighs
- 1 lemongrass stalk, finely minced ~ OR ~ 3 TBSP lemongrass paste
- 3 TBSP fish sauce
- 3 TBSP coconut aminos ~ OR ~ low sodium soy
- 1 TBSP ginger, minced
- 1 TBSP garlic, minced
- ¼ cup Thai basil, finely chopped *
- 2-3 TBSP oil, or as needed
* Thai Basil substitute: fresh basil, plus pinch of anise.
Mix together marinade ingredients
Add chicken; mix to coat
Refrigerate 30 min – 24 hrs
Preheat oven 400*
Place chicken on greased baking rack in tray
Coat chicken with any remaining marinade
~ 45-50 min (WINGS)
~ 55-60 min (THIGHS)
Remove from oven; let rest 5 minutes before serving
THEME SONG: Psycho Killer, Talking Heads
Is the Thief of Joy.
~ Theodore Roosevelt
Aside from the occasional Dumb Supper, Sister Madly never entertains in a high-society fashion. So when she received a single teacup from Tallulah over Christmas, she assumed that Tallulah intended her to serve herself from this charming china set.
Now, Sister Madly has been known to have discussions with herself, often keeping herself up at night with lengthy dissertations about the correlation between Hollow Earth and Pop Rocks, until she rolls over and tells herself to put a sock in it. She then hurls insults at herself under her breath like a petulant child until she falls asleep exhausted somewhere between 4 and 5AM. Clearly, a nightcap from this teacup will put an end to those late night discourses.
Tallulah knows her so well.
Her Brother-in-Law, however, has a different theory about his favorite holiday: Christmas, he says, is a time to get someone the present you want to give them, not necessarily what they want*- a theory he later demonstrated by gifting Sister Madly the LP soundtrack of that beloved cult classic Manos: The Hands of Fate.
* A very interesting theory, Mr. Tallulah; Sister Madly just might implement this same philosophy for you next year. Hopefully, SkyMall is still in circulation.
While not a brilliant score musically, there is a certain novelty in owning the soundtrack to one of the worst disasterpieces in cinematic history- that, and she likes to annoy her neighbors.
Also, it provided some lovely dinner music later that evening.
* Be thankful that Sister Madly linked you to the 10 minute video, not the 10 hour one- that is her Christmas gift to you.
But the Manos soundtrack was not the only gift from Mr. Tallulah; it was accompanied by that coveted DVD of Radiant Fireplace 2, to satiate her midnight cravings to watch 60 minutes of nonstop fireplace.
Being that it was Christmas, the unwrapping of Radiant Fireplace 2 quickly led to a discussion amongst herself over the storyboard for a truly festive Yule Log Video.
Allow Sister Madly to elaborate:
Naturally, one starts by setting some dead trees on fire to merry music…
By the 3rd Song- Greensleeves, of course- break out the snacks…
After a S’more or two, revive the dying flame with kindling and all those pesky incriminating documents you forgot to shred…
45 minutes later, ritually summon an Elder God Sister Madly…
Then scramble to appease her demand for an offering…
No doubt Sister Madly is pleased…
… nope, not as pleased as she could be…
Now look what you’ve done- you’ve sent Sister Madly into a proper tantrum! Why would you even think that a spider is an appropriate offering? What’s wrong with Moroccan Lanterns or fuzzy socks or Ferrero Rocher candies? Pretty rocks? Birds of Paradise? Spiders are never an acceptable currency in the Madliverse- you should know that by now, peasant!
And it is here that the more sensible amongst you would implement, most carefully, the wisdom of Tallulah’s Teacup*- as you can see, Sister Madly’s tantrums are epic.
* Having filled it to the brim with Cider, of course.
MEDITERRANEAN CHICKEN SOUP
- 4-6 chicken thighs, whole
- 6-8 cups chicken broth
- 1 cup pearl couscous, uncooked (opt)
- 1 onion, diced
- 1 TBSP fresh garlic, minced
- carrots, chopped
- celery, chopped
- mushrooms, sliced
- 2½ tsp thyme
- 2½ tsp marjoram
- ¼ tsp pepper, or to taste
- salt, to taste
- oil/ghee, for sautéing
Sauté onion in hot oil until translucent; 8-10 min
Add garlic; sauté 2-3 min
Add celery, carrots, and mushrooms; sauté 2-3 min
Add spices; sauté 30 sec
Add chicken; stir to coat
Add stock; bring to a boil
Reduce heat; simmer until veggies are tender; 30-40 min
Shred chicken with 2 forks
Add couscous; cover; simmer 8-10 min until cooked
Remove from heat and serve
THEME SONG: Let the Fire In, Peter Murphy’s Carver Combo
10) Jill Greenberg
When an Honest Man Discovers
That He is Mistaken
He will either
Cease to be Mistaken,
Or Cease to be Honest.
All Images: Pinterest
Let’s play a game…
“Pop Rocks in the litter box!”
~ Sister Madly, which she accidentally sent to her accountant.*
* Sorry about that, Steve.
So, can just anyone buy a submarine?
It’s not like she isn’t qualified to command one; after all, Sister Madly has a boating license- got it when she was twelve. Officer What’s-His-Name said it was all she needed to operate motorized watercraft- sure, she may have forgotten a few things in the intervening years, but surely beneath the water those laws no longer apply.
The craft shouldn’t be difficult to figure out, no doubt just an ignition key and a bright orange button to make it go forward. It will have no reverse gear, but that won’t be a problem on the ocean’s floor where U-turns are permitted willy-nilly; after all, the Germans call these magnificent vessels U-boats, which is clearly in honor of the U-turn.
But most importantly, one need never parallel park a Submarine between an obnoxious Prius and a wood-paneled PT Cruiser, which is a most unnatural and debauched maneuver straight from the pit of hell.
She doesn’t need all the fancy u-boat upgrades, such screen doors and nuclear warheads; your standard get-out-of-the-way torpedo will do. Sister Madly will, however, insist upon flocked wallpaper, disco lights, and a badass stereo system; David Bowie will sound especially haunting inside a submarine.
As for the intermittent, man-your-stations-you’re-under-attack buzzer (complete with flashing red light,) that will make a most excellent alarm clock for any early morning appointments Sister Madly is foolish enough to make.
Also, a conveniently placed shark’s fin will not go to waste.
It shall be called the USS Sweet Hereafter.
* But secretly, she will call it Myrtle.
There are one or two things that will need to be addressed- her negative sense of direction, for example. Officer What’s-His-Name used to talk about this apparatus called a compass, but Sister Madly finds relying upon magnetic poles so 1987. She would utilize a state-of-the-art navigational system,* not prehistoric tomfoolery.
* A few sober friends and a map.
You may be wondering where Sister Madly will store the vessel when not in use. She is certainly glad you asked! Her elder sister, Tallulah, has a creek running through her back yard- no doubt she would be happy to let sweet little sis park Myrtle at the end of the dock. The HOA doesn’t address the subject of submarines, thus one can only assume that they are allowed on the property.
Also, Sister Madly would be most responsible with the torpedoes: she will only use them on spiders.
But all this is nothing more than a pipe dream if civilian submarine ownership is beyond her reach. Sister Madly couldn’t go on wasting her night glamming up Myrtle if she wasn’t allowed to buy one.
So, at 2:41 AM:
Can just anyone buy a submarine?
Now some of you may cluck your tongues at the 2:41 timestamp, but it’s not like she was texting something frivolous, like celebrity death notices. This was important; Sister Madly’s entire future depended upon it.
And rest assured, she was completely sober at the time.
Come on, Professor- can’t a person ask about submarine ownership without being accused of plotting something nefarious? Sister Madly encountered the same skepticism last year when inquiring about a steamroller. Have a little faith.
The Professor never answered.
So… can just anyone buy a Submarine?
AREPAS CHILE CHICKEN
- 6-8 boneless chicken thighs, whole
- 2 sweet onions, sliced
- 2-3 garlic cloves, minced
- 1½ cup chicken stock
- 1 TBSP tomato paste
- 1 tsp coriander
- 1 tsp oregano
- 1 tsp cumin
- ½ tsp paprika
- ¼ tsp chili powder
- ¼ tsp chipotle pepper
- salt, to taste
Heat oil in Dutch oven
Add onions; stir to coat
Lower heat, stirring occasionally until onions are caramelized (30-45 min)
Mix in spices, stock, and chicken; bring to a boil
Reduce heat; simmer until chicken is cooked (25 min)
With 2 forks, shred chicken in sauce
Simmer to reduce and thicken
- 1 cup Harina de Maiz (pre-cooked cornmeal, such as P.A.N.)
- 1 cup water or milk, room temp if possible
- ½ tsp salt
- 1 TBSP oil
Combine arepa flour and salt
Mix in oil and water, until mixture is smooth
Knead a few times, dividing dough in four pieces*
Roll each piece into a ball, then flatten about 1/2 inch thick
Heat greased pan over medium heat
Add the arepas; cook until golden brown (about 6-7 minutes)
Flip; cook another 3-5 minutes
* Coating hands in oil will help prevent sticky-dough rage.
Split arepas horizontally
Fill with chicken
Top with cotija, guacamole, and sour cream
THEME SONG: Under Pressure, David Bowie/Queen
Is the Only Creature
That Refuses to Be
What He Is.
~ Albert Camus
2.) Marko Popadić
May Not Be Consistent
3) tara mckinney
He was a Bold Man
That first ate an Oyster.
~ Jonathan Swift
Art by Gregory Halili
Learn the Rules
Like a Pro ~
So you can Break Them
Like an Artist.
~ Pablo Picasso (attributed)
1.) Carved by Daniele Barresi
3.) Carved by Sachiko Ishikawa
An Eye for an Eye
Will Only Make
The Whole World Blind.
2.) Majla Art
They say nirvana is a state of perfect serenity; the highest happiness. Some believe it is impossible to achieve, but the truth is quite the contrary.
It began some years ago at Utopia, bazaar of sorts once described as ‘a bunch of weird people doing weird things.’ Sister Madly was in the middle of one of those weird things* when Management announced that Utopia would be hosting Tibetan Monks from an unpronounceable Buddhist monastery, who would be making a Sand Mandala at the store.
* Washing soap (don’t ask…)
Naturally this announcement came with a lot of unnecessary protocol, which ranged from limiting the music to Tibetan Chants, to locking the store’s mascot- a fat cat named Sinner- in the basement lest he turn the Mandala into his personal litter box; and while they did not forbid the employees from eating meat, Management strongly encouraged them to not eat it in the presence of the Monks as they were strictly vegan.
They wanted the week-long event to be a completely ‘spiritual’ experience.
Now Sister Madly has a confession to make: she does not like leafy green things. At all. She likes them on the trees, sure, and feeding them to the garbage disposal delights her to no end, but personally consuming them guarantees a night chock-full of healthy nightmares. She might be able to maintain this strongly-suggested vegan facade for a few hours a day, if not hallucinate while trying- which could be fun, now that she thinks about it…
And so the day came when the Monks from the Unpronounceable Buddhist Monastery arrived on their doorstep in saffron robes and buckets of sand, signifying the start of Sister Madly’s 8 Hours-a-Day Vegan Charade- the thought of just pretending to like leafy green things was enough to send her into fits. Indeed, the Road to Enlightenment is a twisted one.
It was on Thursday that nirvana was finally realized. Management had run off to another mysterious business meeting, leaving behind a long list weird to-do’s (wash candles, inventory all defective sparkle beads, etc) and a note stating that there was a snack plate* in the fridge in case the Monks felt ‘peckish.’
*…if one can call grass-clippings and spongy white things on toothpicks ‘snacks’…
However, the Monks from the Unpronounceable Buddhist Monastery were not the slightest bit interested in the Snack Plate; no, they wanted Chinese food from the restaurant across the street. With considerable effort, Sister Madly broke through that language barrier to find that they wanted 8 orders of Steamed Dumplings and 8 orders of Kung Pao Pork, which is slightly incompatible with a ‘strict vegan lifestyle.’
But then, who is she to judge?
There was some hesitation on the part of Victor, who felt that by calling in this order he would be contributing to the corruption of their humble souls. So Sister Madly made the call, and merrily launched the Monks down the path of sin.
It turned out that the Monks were no strangers to transgression: not only were they avid fans of meat -pork, no less- they also had email, a cell phone each, played a wicked game of ping pong,* and would routinely break from Sand Mandala-ing to challenge the kids on the street to skateboard races (albeit through an interpreter.)
*And billiards. And badminton. And volleyball. It was quite unfair, really.
Yes, when Management’s away, the Monks will play. They released Sinner from the basement, fed him massive amounts of pork, and took an immediate- if not unfortunate- liking the Miami Vice soundtrack. But the highlight of this monastic skullduggery was the moment Sister Madly broke out the ultimate forbidden fruit:
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said that music is the universal language of mankind; yet there is another phenomenon that transcends all cultures and dialects: the wide-eyed, giddy wonder of experiencing Pop Rocks for the very first time, and the numbing bliss that immediately follows.
The highest happiness.
A state of perfect serenity.
MADEIRA LAMB STEW
- 1 onion, chopped
- 3 garlic cloves, minced
- baby carrots
- baby potatoes, cubed
- cipollini or pearl onions, peeled
- 1 lb lamb, cubed
- 1 cup Madeira wine, divided (1/4 cup + remaining)
- 4 cups beef or lamb stock
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 tbsp thyme
- 2 tsp rosemary
- 2 tbsp Worcestershire
- 1 tbsp Dijon
- salt and pepper, to taste
In Dutch oven, brown lamb on all sides; set aside
Saute chopped onion until translucent, adding oil if needed; 5 min
Add garlic and carrots; saute 3-5 min
Add bay leaves, rosemary, and thyme; saute until fragrant; 30 secs
Deglaze with 1/4 cup Madeira wine; bring to a simmer
Add lamb, potatoes, cipollinis, and mushrooms; stir until coated
Add stock, Worcestershire, and remaining wine; bring to a boil
Reduce heat; cover
Simmer, stirring occasionally, until meat and veggies are tender; 1-1.5 hours
Uncover; simmer to reduce and thicken (if desired)
Add Dijon; mix thoroughly
Remove bay leaves before serving
THEME SONG: Happy Together, the Turtles
When she was young, Sister Madly thought her looks were ordinary; she couldn’t understand how people even recognized her. There was nothing special about her hair or her eyes, she was short, and her nose was simply there- in other words, she was that typical, run-of-the-mill moppet that couldn’t be distinguished from any other.
In fact, her looks so ordinary, it practically made her invisible.*
* She could, however, throw a tantrum of epic proportions, which would render her invisibility temporarily null and void.
Now invisibility had its perks: she could make faces at passing strangers, not eat her vegetables, even get away with murder (once she figured out what murder was and why she would want to get away with it) all without consequence. Of course, Sister Madly would grow up being overlooked and trampled underfoot, a plight for which her mother must have some secret sympathy, enough at least to compel her to buy her daughter the mercury she’d been begging for the past week.
At is turned out, her mother hadn’t much sympathy at all, which left Sister Madly sulking in the basement with a coloring book and not an ounce of mercury to her name (nor a hammer- one simply cannot play with mercury without a hammer!) She wasn’t completely heartless, though, as she invited Serafina over in hopes of cheering Sister Madly out of her no-mercury funk.
After getting the Hula Hoop stuck in a tree yet again (a favorite pastime in the Madliverse*) the girls wandered down to the corner party store for candy cigarettes, which naturally resulted in the two deciding to cut their own hair. Serafina’s decimated lock ended up being easily tucked behind her ear, but Sister Madly’s- well, her lock stuck straight up in the back, much like the fuse on a cartoon bomb.
* Not so much for the Pater Madly, who had to retrieve said Hula Hoop.
The impromptu makeover was not a particular blow to her vanity, as Sister Madly lacked a certain awareness at that age. Surely the Mater Madly would agree that this ‘new do’ was an improvement, as Sister Madly was sporting a rather unflattering pixie cut* at the time.
* Aka, a ‘Dorothy Hamill,’ named after the only individual on the planet who could pull off such a style.
As it turned out, the ‘new do’ was as subtle as a brick through the window. There was a lengthy lecture that evening, during which the Parental Madlys explained exactly why they didn’t want their daughter personally modifying her pint-sized physique: she could harm herself, it wasn’t a necessity in order to survive, and heaven knows she wasn’t doing it for a worthy cause. It would grow back, sure, it was only hair- but it was only hair this time. They didn’t want to know what would happen next time, and sought to discourage further experimentation before Sister Madly emerged from the basement one Sunday afternoon with various piercings and badly executed tattoos.
The Mater Madly was particularly frustrated: not only were Sister Madly’s class pictures upcoming, she was also to be in her cousin’s wedding the following weekend.
Still, Sister Madly didn’t see why they made such a fuss; she was invisible, after all. Had her mother been in a slightly less end-of-the-world frame of mind, Sister Madly would have pointed out the likelihood of her pictures turning out blank- it is impossible to photograph the invisible, that’s just common sense. She also would’ve suggested that Tallulah take her place in the wedding- Sister Madly wasn’t exactly sure what a wedding was or its purpose, but her mother made it sound important, and her cousin would probably want a flower girl who could be photographed.
About a week after the wedding, the pictures revealed something rather shocking: Sister Madly was clearly visible in the photos, right down to the wispy, fuse-of-the-bomb hairdo. While initially perplexed by this development, the answer was suddenly so obvious that she felt silly for not recognizing it: Sister Madly, you see, was invisible to the world, not to herself. Therefore, just as she could see herself in a mirror, she would be able to see herself in a photo. No doubt her class picture would reflect the same.
This is the rationale that has sustained her into adulthood. Logic is a dying art.
CURRIED SUMAC PULLED CHICKEN
- Ghee/Oil for sauteing
- 1 1/2- 2 cups chicken stock
- 6 boneless chicken thighs, whole
- 2 sweet onions, sliced
- 3 garlic cloves, minced
- 2 tsp dried parsley
- 2 tsp curry powder (used Japanese Curry)
- 1½ – 2 tsp Harissa
- 1½ tsp smoked paprika
- 1 tsp sumac
- 1 tsp cardamom
- 1 tsp cinnamon
- salt to taste
Saute onions until caramelized; 45-50 minutes
Add garlic; saute 3 minutes
Add spices; saute 30 secs
Add chicken; stir to coat
Add stock; bring to a boil
Reduce heat; simmer 20 minutes
Shredded chicken w/2 forks in sauce
Simmer to reduce/thicken (if needed)
Let stand 2 minutes; serve
THEME SONG: Invisible, U2
Image 4.) Anna Spencer Photography
Now Sister Madly knows better than to believe every rumor that crosses her path; otherwise, she would be locked in the pantry, wailing in sackcloth over the fact that the world did not end in 2012. However, when the Professor cited an article that claimed Stilton Cheese has been known to induce dreams, she was most intrigued.
The idea of vivid dreams was like catnip to the starry-eyed moppet, as her sleep has been rather dreary as of late: even Rambunctious Shadow Kitty has been tame these last few weeks. A dream of epic proportions would be a welcome change to the recent nights of intermittent insomnia: dreams of travel, of sparkly things, of encounters with legendary creatures- anything that deviated from the current ritual of staring up at the ceiling fan at 3 AM would be greatly appreciated.
There was, of course, the possibility that she would end up with equally vivid nightmares, in which case Sister Madly would spend the rest of the night with her eyes propped open with toothpicks.
But that is the risk one assumes when dabbling with Stilton Cheese.*
* Along with the most atrocious morning breath. Indeed, it is not a Cheese of Romance.
So to ensure a night of unparalleled adventures in slumberland, Sister Madly decided to hit up the local Stilton-Dealing demimonde: the neighborhood grocer.
It’s quite sci-fi, really, the way the supermarket doors slide apart before her. She has long-since perfected her majestic stride, parading in and out of the market like a demented Grand Vizier- until that afternoon, that is, when the doors slid apart with all the speed and enthusiasm of continental drift.
Which Sister Madly failed to notice until it was all too late.
After the usual bout of stars and bluebirds circling about her head, the first thing she saw was a pair of bacon socks and bear claw slippers standing before her. Further on up, the celestial vision gave way to the wool skirt and orange poncho of the jolly transient who collects bottles from bins and feeds granola to the pigeons. He was particularly chipper that day, having just heard of a possible 5¢ bottle deposit increase, and was eager to tell Sister Madly all about it.
He then mentioned that the doors were defective as of late, and she should take care when challenging their position.
Once inside, she made her way over to the cheese counter, where she effectively avoided all staff due to the glossy ‘don’t even try talking to me’ veneer inherent in all feral Sister Madly’s. Unfortunately, the market was rather limited on their selection of Stilton; but then, certain American proprietors are rather skittish when it comes to unconventional cheeses.*
* Especially in regards to that cheese infested with maggots– seriously, Italy, that is so uncool.
While the cutesy little sign recommended a cheeky wine pairing for foodies and romantics alike, there was no advice on protocol for inducing dreams (how unthoughtful!) Apparently, dream-seekers were completely on their own when pursuing a round of nocturnal adventures.
And yet, this revelation was nothing compared to the terror Sister Madly endured when confronted by the mother of all social horrors:
The self-checkout was gone.
There is a reason that the gods created self-checkout, just as they created texting, single-passenger cars, and carrier pigeons: to pass their divine blessing upon lovely, antisocial behavior.
You know what this means, don’t you? Sister Madly has to talk to people!
And she has to talk to them about a wedge of stinky cheese.
Now this was a high-risk scenario: would the cashier deny Sister Madly this cheese knowing she was using it for recreational purposes? Were there guidelines on how to consume this delicacy for maximum dream lucidity? Is she allowed crackers? Cured meats? Some people put Stilton in a port wine sauce; however, Sister Madly wasn’t too keen on the idea of drinking her cheese- that all but guaranteed unforgivable nightmares. And what about the rind? Was there a certain magic contained within that outer layer?
But these questions answered themselves when Sister Madly woke the next morning, all tangled in bed sheets and with the world’s most terrifying bed-head.
There had been a dream, all right, one of a plucky Sister Madly sticking pins in ginger root as though it was a voodoo doll, all the while singing ‘All I Have to Do is Dream’ to her pet pinecone (affectionately named, ‘Pinecone.’) There was a vague awareness that the constellation Sagittarius was being held hostage by a man named Doug, but this was of no consequence as Sister Madly was a Gemini.
In other words, your run-of-the-mill dream. So disappointing.
TUNISIAN VEGETABLE SOUP
- 1 onion, chopped
- 3 garlic gloves, minced
- 8 oz. mushrooms, quartered
- Sweet potato, cubed
- Rainbow carrots, chopped
- Celery, sliced
- 1 cup pearl couscous, uncooked (opt)
- 6-8 cups vegetable stock
- 2 tbsp tomato paste
- 1-2 tbsp Harissa, to taste
- 1 tbsp Ras el Hanout
- 1 tbsp coriander
- 2 tsp cumin
- 1 tsp sumac
- 1/2 tsp ginger
- 1/2 tsp turmeric
- 1/4 tsp cardamom powder
- 1/4 cinnamon powder
- Salt and pepper, to taste
- Oil, for sauteing
Saute onion and garlic until translucent; 5-8 min
Add carrots and celery; saute 3-5 min
Add spices, tomato paste, and harissa; mix
Add potatoes and mushrooms; stir to coat
Add stock and bring to a boil
Reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 25-30 min, stirring occasionally
Add couscous (if using)
Cover and simmer until couscous is cooked; 8-10 min
THEME SONG: All I Have to Do is Dream, Everly Brothers
Is like a Strong Wind:
It Tears from Us All but That
Which Cannot be Torn
So that We may
As We Really Are.
~ Arthur Golden
2.) Markus Weggässer
3.) We Heart It
5.) We Heart It
When One Tugs at
A Single Thing in Nature ~
One Finds it Connected
To the Rest of the World.
~ John Muir
The Bialbero di Casorzo – the Double Tree of Casorzo – in Piedmont, Italy, consists of a Cherry Tree growing atop a Mulberry Tree. Also called Epiphytes, large ‘double-trees’ are a rarity as they require root connection to the ground, often through the hollow trunk of its host.
1) Giulio Colla
3) Enzo Isaiah
Only a Poet
Or a Madman ~
Can Water the Asphalt
And Expect Lilies to Grow.
~ W. Somerset Maugham (paraphrased)
The Professor wasn’t buying it.
“That’s the Internet Movie DataBase.”
Well Sister Madly, it seems you’ve been outed. When one risks a lie without first checking its credibility, there is always a chance that some potato-toting PhD will call your bluff.
Over time, Sister Madly has seen the pub crowd immerse themselves in a variety of crazes- the worst of these being the Settlers of Catan, a game which allows the common man to dabble in the cutthroat world of land re-zoning and development. Seriously, Catan Fandom is terrifying; people have made pizzas based on that game.
But second only to the Catan Fandom is the Cult of Personality.
It began a several years ago, when the Professor returned from the holy land* bearing more than the usual gifts of unsolicited advice and potatoes. It appears that, while searching for whatever it is one searches for on the internet late at night, the Professor had uncovered the divinely inspired texts of something called MBTI, and was an instant convert.
Now there are many lovely individuals who dabble in this MBTI without it inhibiting their ability to function in their everyday lives. The Cult of Personality, however, won’t even poach an egg without telling you precisely:
- how their type will do so
- whether or not their type will feel remorse for the egg
- whether or not their type will feel remorse for the chicken that laid said egg
- whether or not their type will struggle with the ethics of eating the egg they heartlessly stole from the chicken
- whether or not their type with convert to veganism as a result
MBTI, after all, advocates life-changing self-awareness and self-knowledge.
Unfortunately, the Cult seems far less interested in understanding their behavior than they are in justifying it. They behave a certain way because quite frankly, MBTI says that they do, rendering them absolutely powerless to do anything about it. Oh, pooh.
“It provides the framework not only to understand others, but to understand yourself and why you do things the way you do…”
A noble sentiment, O’ Beholder of a PhD, but Sister Madly would rather pursue the answers to the important questions of life, such as the origins of the universe, or who let the dogs out. Besides, she already understands what lies behind her increasingly anti-social behavior. For example: she put Sriracha in your whiskey because you annoyed her. Sister Madly is really not that complicated.
Now one doesn’t simply convert to the Cult through proselytizing alone; one has to take a test, which can now be done anytime and anywhere due to the cheeky invention known as the Smart Phone. The fella who invented that has a lot to answer for, should he and Sister Madly ever meet.
Not only is it common knowledge that Sister Madly doesn’t have a Smart Phone, there are legends surrounding just how remarkably inept she is in using one, the most recent of these being how Sister Madly set a GPS, only to have it lead them all to an abandoned silo off an old logging road. And that’s the cheerful part of the story.
So it came to pass the other night that Sister Madly found herself- most unwillingly- at the pub, with an MBTI test on the Professor’s phone and specific instructions not to leave the bar until she had a result.
After nearly an hour of swiping screens, pushing nonexistent buttons, accidentally taking pictures of her thumb and displaying a vast array of colorful vocabulary, she had that result:
Now Sister Madly knows what you’re all thinking: that’s 8 letters too many. And you’d be correct, except that Sister Madly didn’t take a traditional MBTI test; she took one entitled Which Cthulhu Mythos Deity Are You? and was rather pleased with the result.
At once the Professor was expressing doubts over the validity of this test. MBTI was all about cognitive functions, such as thinking vs. feeling-
Well, so was her Mythos Test, O Bringer of Potatoes. Sister Madly was asked if she preferred to control the masses by driving them mad, or simply by eating them*- and you know how Sister Madly favors madness. In fact, judging by the steam wafting from your ears, Sister Madly is clearly driving you insane at this very moment.
* It is worth mentioning that, had Sister Madly been hungry at the time, she would have preferred eating the masses, rather than driving them mad.
True, Sister Madly managed to venture away from the Professor’s MBTI test, and quite deliberately (she’s remarkably stubborn as well) but that doesn’t mean the Mythos result was inaccurate; far from it.
Allow Sister Madly to explain:
NYARLATHOTEP is a Shape-Shifter.
SHAPE-SHIFTERS take on many different personas.
IMDB is a Database of Actors.
ACTORS take on many different personas.
Therefore: NYARLATHOTEP = IMDB
Now, since all personas fall into one of the 1,636.72* different personality types outlined by MBTI, and since IMDB is a database of actors who either have or portray those personality types, Sister Madly’s original assessment of IMDB- and, consequently, Nyarlathotep- is both accurate and correct.
* Number approximate.
And if that doesn’t suffice, Professor, there are other 4-letter words in her arsenal…
THEME SONG: Cult of Personality, Living Colour
What you Hide
In your Heart
Can be Seen
In Your Eyes.
~ Arabic Proverb
Evokes the Mystery ~
Without which the World
Would not Exist.
~ Rene Magritte
1.) Michael Freeman Photography
2.) RONI Photography
3.) Michael Freeman Photography