When I looked up the meaning of “Auld Lang Syne”, dictionary.com said this:
The words auld lang syne literally mean “old long since,” though in practice it means “old times, especially times fondly remembered,” as well as an “old or long friendship.”
So, as we near the end of this long, disgusting year of Ultra Maggot’s installation, let’s look back fondly at older, BETTER times!
SOON…
I found this list the other day, of over 200 of Jeff Foxworthy’s best “You might be a redneck…” jokes and I’d thought I’d share a bunch with you guys. I’m gonna break it up into a few opens here and there…Enjoy!!
The ASPCA raids your kitchen.
You own a homemade fur coat.
You have a rag for a gas cap.
You’ve ever bought a used cap.
You’ve ever financed a tattoo.
You prefer car keys to Q-tips.
You have an Elvis Jell-o mold.
You have ever used lard in bed.
You’ve ever stolen toilet paper.
Fewer than half of your cars run.
Your brother-in-law is your uncle.
You own at least 20 baseball hats.
Every electrical outlet in your house is a fire hazard.
Birds are attracted to your beard.
You pick your teeth from a catalog.
You’ve ever been too drunk to fish.
You bring your dog to work with you.
Your kitchen doubles as a bait store.
You’ve ever given rat traps as gifts.
You’ve ever used a Weed Eater indoors.
You have more guns than teeth.
Your dad is also your favorite uncle.
Your Junior/Senior Prom had a Daycare.
You’re considered an expert on worm beds.
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You’ve ever parked a Camaro in a tree.
You burn your yard rather than mow it.
Your brother-in-law is also your uncle.
Your other truck is made by John Deere.
You take a fishing pole into Sea World.
Your gene pool doesn’t have a “deep end”
The primary color of your car is Bondo.
Your family’s No. 1 enemy is revenuers.
You own more cowboy boots than sneakers.
You’ve ever barbecued Spam on the grill.
You ever cut your grass and found a car.
You clean your fingernails with a stick.
You think suspenders are a type of shirt.
You consider “Outdoor Life” deep reading.
You’ve ever worn a tube top to a wedding.
You’ve ever raked leaves in your kitchen.
You wear cowboy boots with Bermuda shorts.
The Salvation Army declines your mattress.
You have every episode of Hee-Haw on tape.
You’ve totaled every car you’ve ever owned.
You go to a Tupperware party for a haircut.
Your coffee table used to be a cable spool.
You’ve ever bathed with flea and tick soap.
Your family tree doesn’t have any branches.
Your wife weighs more than your refrigerator.
You think the French Riviera is foreign car.
You ever lost a tooth opening a beer bottle.
Your school fight song was “Dueling Banjos”.
You keep a can of RAID on the kitchen table.
You consider the fifth grade your senior year.
Your home has more miles on it than your car.
Your mother has “ammo” on her Christmas list.
Your dog and your wallet are both on a chain.
Your dog can’t watch you eat without gagging.
You read the Auto Trader with a highlight pen.
You think a chain saw is a musical instrument.
You’ve ever made change in the offering plate.
Your belt buckle doubles as a serving platter.
You use lava soap more than three times a day.
You think that Dom Perignon is a mafia leader.
Your belt buckle weighs more than three pounds.
The main course at potluck dinners is roadkill.
Your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand.
You think a Volvo is part of a woman’s anatomy.
You buy your wife tube socks at the flea market.
Your kids take a siphon hose to “Show and Tell.”
There is a stuffed opossum anywhere in your house.
You own more than 3 shirts with cut off sleeves.
You have to go down to the creek to take a bath.
Your wife can climb a tree faster than your cat.
You think the stock market has a fence around it.
Your CB antenna is a danger to low-flying planes.
The Home Shopping operator recognizes your voice.
You think that Campho-Phenique is a miracle drug.
You consider pork and beans to be a gourmet food.
You think a hot tub is a stolen bathroom fixture.
Your boat has not left the drive-way in 15 years.
You think a turtleneck is key ingredient for soup.
Your hairdo has ever been ruined by a ceiling fan.
Your parakeet knows the phrase “Open up, Police!”.
You think a subdivision is part of a math problem.
Your mother keeps a spit cup on the ironing board.
Red man Chewing Tobacco sends you a Christmas card.
I came across this article from Reader’s Digest…Historical Facts You’ll Wish Weren’t Really True by Meghan Jones. I thought I’d share it with you.
King Tut’s parents were most likely siblings.
Once you’ve finished shuddering with disgust, here’s what researchers know about the boy king and his family. His father was almost definitely Akhenaten, who preceded Tut as pharaoh in the fourteenth century BC. The identity of his mother is pretty much unknown, but recent DNA samples from his and other mummies have revealed that she was probably one of Akhenaten’s sisters. King Tut was rather frail and suffered from a bone disorder, perhaps due to his parentage. Incestuous relationships, though, weren’t out of the ordinary in ancient Egypt, a fact which is not exactly reassuring. Despite Tut’s health issues, and his short life even by the standards back then (he died at 19), he’s gone down in history as one of Egypt’s most famous and wealthiest pharaohs.
Someone tried and failed to save Abraham Lincoln—and his life just got darker from there.
You’re probably familiar with the 1860s illustration The Assassination of President Lincoln. But who’s that pair sharing the private box with the ill-fated president and his wife? The man on the far left, rushing into action, is Major Henry Rathbone. President and Mrs. Lincoln specifically asked him and his fiancée, Clara Harris, to accompany them to the theater. After Booth fired the shot, Rathbone tried to tackle him to the ground, but Booth was able to get free by slicing Rathbone in the arm with a dagger. Rathbone was never free of the memory and guilt of that night, and he reportedly felt responsible for letting Booth get away. In the years to come, he experienced a myriad of health issues, from stomach ailments to heart palpitations, and his mental state deteriorated as well. On December 23, 1883 (18 years after the assassination), he attacked and killed Clara, now his wife, and attempted to kill himself. He would spend the rest of his life in a mental institution.
In 1494, Europe experienced the closest thing to a real-life zombie outbreak.
Italy’s Renaissance period has a major, though little-known, dark side. Sailors returning from the New World brought with them a massive outbreak of syphilis, which spread through an entire French army. The troops then brought what would become known as “the great pox” to the rest of Europe. With no such thing as antibiotics back then, the disease was able to spread unchecked—and its effects were nasty. The skin on victims’ faces would essentially rot away from the disease’s grisly ulcers. In some cases, the noses, lips, or other body parts of the affected people were essentially gone, and several of the victims eventually died from the disease. So while there was a lot to love about the Renaissance in Europe, the concurrent syphilis outbreak was basically the real-world version of the zombie apocalypse. No big deal.
19th-century New Englanders dug up a young woman’s body… because they thought she was a vampire.
You’ve undoubtedly heard of the Salem Witch Trials, but what about the “Rhode Island Accused Vampire”? In the late 1800s, a bout of tuberculosis (then called “consumption”) struck Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Vermont, and the residents didn’t know what to make of it. Since its victims tended to look sunken, pallid, and drained, people assumed that they’d fallen prey to vampires. So, naturally, a “vampire hunt” soon commenced. When members of an Exeter, Rhode Island family began dying of consumption one after the other, the other townspeople decided that someone in the family must be “feeding” on the others. Even after the mother, Mary Brown, and her two daughters had died, the townspeople decided to exhume the dead bodies, suspecting that one might, in fact, be “undead.”
Brown’s 19-year-old daughter Mercy had died much more recently than her family members, so her body was in much better condition. Her heart even still contained some decayed blood—a sure sign of vampirism, in those days. So, to prevent her from “striking” again, they burned her heart and liver and mixed the ashes with water. They then gave the concoction to another affected townsperson as a “cure.” Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.
Thomas Edison created a seriously creepy baby doll.
For all of his successful inventions, Thomas Edison did experience a pretty major failure when he tried to create the first-ever talking dolls. His 1877 development of the tinfoil phonograph was a major breakthrough in terms of sound recording, and the endless possibilities for this technology were not lost on Edison. In 1890, thanks to the development of the wax cylinder, he was able to produce a line of baby dolls. With wooden bodies, porcelain heads, and miniature phonographs in their chests, the dolls were unlike anything the world of toys had ever seen—or heard—before. The phonographs played back recordings of young women reciting nursery rhymes like “Hickory Dickory Dock” and “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.”
And if ever there were dolls that deserved their own horror flick, it was these. The old, garbled technology, the shrill voices, and the dolls’ eerie faces combine to make them into nightmare fuel for us today. But that’s not actually the reason the dolls were unsuccessful. Their failure was due more to several different things; the pieces were easy to lose, the sound didn’t last long and was hard to understand, and the mini phonographs were highly breakable. And, finally, the dolls were simply expensive.
Dentures used to be made from the teeth of dead soldiers.
Why have false teeth when you can have real teeth?! That must have been the mentality of nineteenth-century dentists. They combated the outbreak of tooth decay with makeshift dentures—ivory base plates with real human teeth attached. Scavengers were already looting corpses from the Battle of Waterloo for their teeth, and now they could sell the teeth to dentists. The dentists would boil the choppers, cut off the roots, attach them to ivory plates, and sell them to customers. Mental Floss doubts that the customers had any idea where the teeth came from. Whether that makes it more or less creepy is up to you to decide.
Researchers once turned a cat into a telephone. A live cat.We know what you’re thinking: “You’ve got to be kitten me!” Well, unfortunately not. In 1929, a pair of scientists at Princeton University wanted to test how the auditory nerve perceives sound. Their test subject was a heavily sedated, but alive, cat. The scientists, Ernest Wever and Charles Bray, cut out part of its brain and attached one end of a telephone wire to its auditory nerve and the other end to a receiver. When Bray said something into the cat’s ears, Wever could hear him through the receiver in a soundproof room. Though it might just seem like a sick experiment, it actually did have some beneficial effects; many researchers believe it helped lead to the development of cochlear implants. As for the feline-turned-phone, it incredibly survived the experiment… but Wever and Bray didn’t release it back into the world. Instead, they killed it to see if the experiment would work on a dead cat. It didn’t.
Boston experienced a deadly molasses flood.
This makes the Boston Tea Party look tame. In January of 1919, an enormous molasses tank burst in the North End of Boston. While a molasses flood might sound like a scene from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, it was no laughing matter. The tank contained—and released—nearly two and a half million gallons of the sticky substance, which surged through the streets at a whopping 35 miles per hour. It was essentially a full-on tidal wave, reaching nearly fifteen feet tall and killing twenty-one people. A hundred and fifty more people were injured, and buildings and houses were knocked from their foundations. Emergency responders had trouble reaching the victims since they had to clamber through the sticky sludge. It took Bostonians weeks to clean up the mess, and many residents would claim that, in the summer heat, they could smell the sickly-sweet odor of molasses even years later.
A computer once did in 40 seconds what took a mathematician an entire lifetime.
Say it isn’t so! While not gross or scandalous, this history fact is still something of a downer. William Shanks, a nineteenth-century mathematician, spent his entire life calculating the digits of pi. He successfully calculated the first 527 digits, and found another 180 digits, though those calculations were incorrect. But calculating the first 527 digits is still impressive… or, rather, it was in 1873. In 1958, a computer calculated that same number of digits in less than a minute…and then calculated another ten thousand. Perhaps it’s better poor Shanks wasn’t alive to see that. If it’s any consolation, though, humans did invent that computer.
A king made his subjects worship the corpse of his beloved.
This case of star-crossed lovers got weird fast. In fourteenth-century Portugal, the king’s son, Don Pedro, fell in love with Inês de Castro. There were only a couple of problems with this: for one, his father, King Afonso IV, did not approve, because Inês was illegitimate. For another, Don Pedro was married. His father had arranged for him to marry a noblewoman named Constanza, and Inês was Constanza’s lady-in-waiting. When Don Pedro refused to stop seeing her, the king had her killed. When Don Pedro acceded to the throne two years later, he exhumed her body, had it clothed in royal dress, and “crowned” her queen. According to historical legend, he made the other nobles all kiss her hand as a sign of their devotion.
Source:
Readers Digest
https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/world/historical-facts-youll-wish-werent-really-true/ss-AATdROS
In 2008, I was living with HB and SIL in a house in Manassas, VA on a major roadway with a lot of traffic, although it was only a two-lane road. It was Christmas but it was unseasonably warm that year. HB and SIL were watching TV and, of course, I was sitting at my computer, which was directly in front of a window.
All of a sudden, I heard a loud crash and looked up to see that an SUV had crashed into a tree across the street. It hit the tree and bounced back; I saw the driver’s door open and a man got out, with an obvious leg injury – he fell up against the SUV and kind of rolled down the side of it towards the front of the vehicle.
By the time I got up and went to the door, I could no longer see him. Behind the house across the street was a large wooded area – there was a driveway running down the side of the house towards the back. We called 911 to report it and then we all trooped outside to look; a woman had pulled over into our driveway so we chatted with her while we waited.
Within 5 or 10 minutes, the cops arrived and began searching for the driver, who was nowhere to be found. They told us the SUV had just been stolen from someone down the street. I told them that he was obviously injured but that was all I knew. They searched and searched and searched, and finally determined that he must have gone down the driveway into the woods. So they sent a car around to the other side of the woods to search from that side. They even had a helicopter up looking for him.
After about 45 minutes, another cop car pulled up with a canine unit. They brought the dog out and had him jump into the SUV to get the man’s scent. He jumped back down and went directly to the tree at the front of the SUV!
Turns out, the guy had buried himself in the leaves and was there the whole time!!!! They had never even looked there!!! We also found out he was an illegal – sometimes I swore half of Manassas was made up of illegals, there were so many, including MS-13!
HB and SIL had already made their decision by then to move to Nebraska. She was pregnant with Piper and wouldn’t be able to work and SIL had been laid off from his job. I had not yet decided to join them but, in March of 2009, I also lost my job as General Manager at ResoleAmerica. I decided God was telling me it was time to go home!!!!
By Larry Schweikart @ UncoverDC on 12/13/22
…to periods that reflected much of who we are, who we have become, and who we can be. Back to events that affected all of us today but were almost imperceptible to those living them. Perhaps with one exception. It was Christmas time. The nation had been at war for almost two years. Things had not gone well. News of early defeats had streamed into the nation’s Capital. Richard Rush wrote to his old friend John Adams about the mood in Washington D.C. in December 1813. The nation was fighting, to be sure:
“But it seems to fight for nothing but disaster and defeat . . . and disgrace. What, sir, should be done? The prospect looks black. It is awful. Is not another torrent rolling too fiercely upon us to be turned back? Where shall we find [leaders]? And may we not be doomed to pass yet another and another and another campaign in the school of affliction and disgrace? [I] am sick at heart at the view of our public affairs. Have we, sir, even seen worse times and survived them? And how?”
The aging ex-president John Adams agreed with Rush. “The times are too serious to write.” He didn’t know what prevented the White House—not called that yet—or the “proud Capitol” from becoming the headquarters of the British. The country, Adams said:
“Must have a winnowing, the chaff must be separated from the wheat. The real . . . genius and experience have been neglected [while] froth and ignorance have been promoted.” But, said the aged patriot, “don’t be discouraged. In our Revolution, we had seen infinitely more difficult and dangerous times.”
What stands out about that exchange—and Adams’s comment about the British being in the White House and the Capitol—is that it came just eight months before that very thing occurred. In August of 1814, British troops landed, and though badly outnumbered and utterly embarrassed, an army was sent to stop them at Bladensburg, New Jersey. They marched on to Washington, with the President, James Madison, on a horse just miles ahead of them. Indeed, the defeat at Bladensburg was so humiliating—referred to this day as the “Bladensburg Races”—that Madison couldn’t find his own Secretary of War, John Armstrong, who was in command of the army in the field.
As the War of 1812 neared its conclusion, British forces torched the White House, the Capitol, and nearly every other public building in Washington. In the darkness, Madison, Attorney General Richard Rush, and John Mason, having watched from a distance as American forces threw down their weapons and ran had ridden back to find the White House deserted.
Dolly Madison had left their supper on the table, then left at three in the morning carrying some papers, a few books, and the full portrait of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart. Everything else—silver, valuables, clothes, thousands of dollars worth of fine wines in the cellar—was abandoned.
Madison urged everyone out. The British were literally right behind them. According to one account, he “cooly mounted his horse and rode off to the ferry across the Potomac.” He needed to find Dolly, and he needed to find the army or what was left of it. Already the British were burning the Capitol and soon reached the White House and burned that. British General Cockburn planned to capture Madison and “carry him to England for a curiosity.”
Madison and his companions didn’t find Dolly across the river. She had left much earlier and, due to her husband’s unpopularity, had to disguise herself. At one tavern, she was refused admittance. When a friend offered her refuge at his country house, the cook refused to make coffee for her, saying, “I don heerd Mr. Madison and Mr. Armstrong done sold the country to the British.”
The President rode on to Great Falls and, not finding his wife there, continued during a vicious wind storm that only fanned the flames back in Washington. But then he learned that the Secretary of War and some of his army were at Rockville, Maryland, 15 miles north of Washington, so he rode there, only to find them gone to Baltimore. Having been in the saddle for 18 hours, Madison rode to Brookville—another 10 hours away, where finally he was able to sleep.
When he finally returned to the White House, it was “in ashes, not an inch, but its cracked and blackened walls remained.” Other public buildings were burned. Dead horses lay all over the grounds. The people were terrified. Many wanted to quit.
Mr. Madison wasn’t a quitter. He finally caught up to Secretary of War Armstrong—and fired him on the spot, throwing him out of Washington. In his stead, he appointed another great future president as the new Secretary of War, James Monroe. When Madison and Armstrong had both disappeared on horseback, Monroe simultaneously held the acting position of both President and Secretary of State. Now James Monroe was Secretary of War as well. He said, “I never went to bed for an entire month.”
As if to add one more coal to his head, a group of northeastern elites from the Federalist Party had come very close to forcing a secession by several states—right in the middle of a war against a foreign enemy.
And then, a quiet change. Sunlight, almost instantaneously. A peace treaty was negotiated in Belgium; General Andrew Jackson defeated a major British invasion at New Orleans, and just like that–-right around Christmas—Madison and the United States—had survived. The ensuing decade was called . . . the era of good feelings.
Jump ahead with me for 127 years…
My story does not take place at Christmas this time, but in the summer of an equally dark period, 1942, when America had been rocked by defeat after defeat in the Pacific by the Japanese. America’s Christmas in 1941 had been one of the bleakest in memory. People were still in shock over the attack at Pearl Harbor, over the fall of plucky Wake Island, and over the steady drumbeat of losses of General MacArthur’s men in the Philippines.
The key to everything was the Japanese navy, and the key to the navy was its strike force of four large aircraft carriers. At the time, the United States could only put to sea three, one of which, the Yorktown, was so badly damaged from a previous battle that it was being repaired while at sea in a frenzy of engineering and construction genius of 1400 men working around the clock.
Through superior codebreaking, the Americans, for once, knew where the Japanese would be—right off Midway Island—and when they would be there. But the Pacific Ocean is a big place. Being “in the vicinity” still can put you off by over a thousand miles. America’s carriers knew roughly where the Japanese fleet was—but not exactly. When the enemy finally showed up, the Americans sent over 100 aircraft from Midway Island. All these attackers failed to land a single bomb on a single enemy ship. But the force kept moving, and now the American carriers, themselves moving to intercept them, had to locate this fleet.
Armed with evidence of roughly where the Japanese were and generally in which direction they were moving, the American carriers launched nearly every ship-killing torpedo plane they could in the general direction of the enemy. The planes arrived haphazardly, completely out of normal practices for attacking ships. One by one, then several at a time, the American torpedo planes were shot down—more than 50 of them fell into the sea! Only three made it back to their carriers. Not one had scored a single hit.
This was indeed desperation. America was down to about thirty dive bombers against a fleet of 100 ships and at least 100 fighter planes. And the dive bombers had not been given clear coordinates as to where the carriers were. They were searching, like almost everyone else. They were low on fuel. No sign.
At the outset of the battle, a single American submarine, the Nautilus, had found the Japanese fleet. It patiently worked its way inside the protective screen to fire three torpedoes at one carrier. Only one hit. It was a dud. Nautilus had utterly failed. Or had it?
A Japanese destroyer was on the Nautilus in minutes, forcing her under. The Nautilus ran. The destroyer followed. Hours later, the Japanese destroyer, convinced it had chased off the sub, turned and headed back for its main fleet and the carriers.
In the skies above, the desperate dive bombers, nearly at their maximum range of fuel, having failed to find the carriers all day, saw a single Japanese ship. A destroyer. This was unusual. It would normally be with a fleet. Was that where it was heading? Out of options, they followed. Soon, the horizon was dotted with Japanese warships and the four big carriers. And all the Japanese fighter planes? They were either out of gas or off chasing the hapless torpedo planes, men who had sacrificed themselves for this miraculous opportunity.
It was literally over in five minutes. Coming out of nowhere, American dive bombers so thoroughly damaged three of the carriers that the Japanese themselves had to finish them off, and the next day, a return visit sank the fourth. The War in the Pacific had been won—oh, it would demand an enormous amount of blood and treasure over more than three years to force Japan to surrender, but after Midway, they simply couldn’t win.
All because of a failed mission and a little change of a lone destroyer following the Nautilus.
I think about that submarine a lot. It failed spectacularly. Just like those courageous torpedo bombers who gave their lives, apparently for no reason. And yet. It was the Nautilis that enabled the dive bombers to find the carriers. It was the torpedo planes that pulled away the protection. It was nerdy, unseen codebreakers that had learned where the Japanese would be.
We may have had a difficult election, but no one knows what the ramifications of it will be. None of us know if we are the Nautilus, performing a task that appears to have failed, only to lay a brick in a massive foundation of victory. None of us know if we are with Mr. Madison, barely ahead of the barbarian hordes in August or walking back into glory at Christmas. But we know this. As John Adams says, we have seen worse times, and such times produce a winnowing.
And we know this. There are always quitters. Those never enter the history books as legends. Rather it is those who took us from the steam engine to the search engine, from the first step on the North Pole to the first footprint on the Moon, from mastering the Mississippi to navigating hyperspace and quantum physics. A handful of thuggish, mouth-breathing, World Economic Forum malcontent minions, backed by all the crypto from Sam Bankman-Fried’s funny-money computers and all the digitally-concocted money in Communist China, do not get the privilege of leading this nation. True genius is beyond them, true patriotism is anathema to them, and true goodness is repellant to them.
This season…
…celebrate what at the time was a seemingly small change that affected a tiny few. Another baby was born in the Middle East. Outside His family—and those who knew the prophecies—no one knew His Name. Yet the little change of His birth overturned the entire world, changed how we mark our calendars and gave hope to billions. One little change named Jesus the Messiah.
This Christmas, America merely awaits the new spirit of change, the spirit that demands not a return to yesterday but a march toward tomorrow. America yearns for both that spirit of good and the spirit of great. That spirit that says mediocrity is no longer acceptable, that decline is unavoidable, or that social decay is inevitable.
Instead, this new spirit of Christmas starts today. It starts here. It starts now. It starts in every heart and hearth, every home and RV, every mansion and apartment. Be a Nautilus. Do your job with courage and conviction, with certainty that even if you fail in what you think was your mission, you have played your part, that the Creator of the universe will play His. Your ripples are noticed. Your faith is rewarded. And your patriotism is appreciated. Celebrate the change of the world.
Merry Christmas, and God Bless America.
Note: None of these pictures are Grandpop’s putz–I have none of those. These are from Roadside America in Shartlesville, PA. Roadside America is a miniature model town.
One of my favorite traditions of Christmases past, was my Grandpop’s putz. (A Christmas putz refers to a miniature village usually surrounding the Nativity scene.)The day after Thanksgiving, Grandpop commandeered their sitting room and began the building. Whenever we visited before Christmas, it would be covered in tarps—shrouded in secrecy—which of course helped the excitement build till Christmas Day. We couldn’t wait to see it!
Grandpop started with a large wooden slab covered with green felt. From there he built mountains, tunnels, and forests on several different levels. And from there, he simply created an entire town! He painstakingly made buildings—stores, churches, and homes—and they had lights inside! There were street lights and street signs, stop signs and bus stops. And he hand-carved the people in the town too. There were little gardens, bushes and even a creek or two. And the TRAINS!!! He had at least 6 different train sets on the putz and on the uppermost level was a small cable car—which circled their Christmas tree…the most gosh awful aluminum thing I’d ever seen…but Grandma loved it. And in it’s place of honor was a hand carved Nativity set, brought by Grandpop’s parents from Austria.
Everything was electrically connected to a large control box that only Grandpop could operate. We’d spend hours walking around the putz, trying to see everything! The people, the details on the buildings…it was all meticulous! I don’t think I ever appreciated just how much time and effort he put into his putz.
When our family moved into a larger home, my dad created his own putz. Dad’s lacked the handcrafted elements that his dad’s had and he purchased the figurines and trees. But his buildings were spectacular! Our putz was in our basement—mom refused to surrender our living room—so no Christmas tree on ours. And Mom refused to allow the Nativity set into the basement. My little brother helped –mostly with the trains—while he and Dad sampled the egg nog Mom kept in the basement fridge.
When my Grandpop passed, my dad and my uncle split the train sets and my aunt took the rest. Then when my father passed, my brother took it all. He has never set up a putz. Sigh…
The holidays can be very stressful for a myriad of reasons—the shopping, the cooking, being with family, especially being with family. So, how about we play some games?
That’s right…Short Girl Appreciation Day falls on the first day of winter…the shortest day of the year…coincidence? Sigh…I don’t think so!
Before anyone tries to disparage short girls or people in general, let me note that your hosts here are both SHORT women. We never ask about height, but it does come out during conversations…so if you’re short too…welcome! Be proud! If you’re tall…can you reach that box on that top shelf for me?
THIS IS FILLY!
TURN A BLIND EYE – The phrase “turn a blind eye”—often used to refer to a willful refusal to acknowledge a particular reality—dates back to a legendary chapter in the career of the British naval hero Horatio Nelson. During 1801’s Battle of Copenhagen, Nelson’s ships were pitted against a large Danish-Norwegian fleet. When his more conservative superior officer flagged for him to withdraw, the one-eyed Nelson supposedly brought his telescope to his bad eye and blithely proclaimed, “I really do not see the signal.” He went on to score a decisive victory. Some historians have since dismissed Nelson’s famous quip as merely a battlefield myth, but the phrase “turn a blind eye” persists to this day.
WHITE ELEPHANT – White elephants were once considered highly sacred creatures in Thailand—the animal even graced the national flag until 1917—but they were also wielded as a subtle form of punishment. According to legend, if an underling or rival angered a Siamese king, the royal might present the unfortunate man with the gift of a white elephant. While ostensibly a reward, the creatures were tremendously expensive to feed and house, and caring for one often drove the recipient into financial ruin. Whether any specific rulers actually bestowed such a passive-aggressive gift is uncertain, but the term has since come to refer to any burdensome possession—pachyderm or otherwise.
CROCODILE TEARS – Modern English speakers use the phrase “crocodile tears” to describe a display of superficial or false sorrow, but the saying actually derives from a medieval belief that crocodiles shed tears of sadness while they killed and consumed their prey. The myth dates back as far as the 14th century and comes from a book called “The Travels of Sir John Mandeville.” Wildly popular upon its release, the tome recounts a brave knight’s adventures during his supposed travels through Asia. Among its many fabrications, the book includes a description of crocodiles that notes, “These serpents sley men, and eate them weeping, and they have no tongue.” While factually inaccurate, Mandeville’s account of weeping reptiles later found its way into the works of Shakespeare, and “crocodile tears” became an idiom as early as the 16th century.
DIEHARD – While it typically refers to someone with a strong dedication to a particular set of beliefs, the term “diehard” originally had a series of much more literal meanings. In its earliest incarnation in the 1700s, the expression described condemned men who struggled the longest when they were executed by hanging. The phrase later became even more popular after 1811’s Battle of Albuera during the Napoleonic Wars. In the midst of the fight, a wounded British officer named William Inglis supposedly urged his unit forward by bellowing “Stand your ground and die hard … make the enemy pay dear for each of us!” Inglis’ 57th Regiment suffered 75 percent casualties during the battle, and went on to earn the nickname “the Die Hards.”
RESTING ON YOUR LAURELS: The idea of resting on your laurels dates back to leaders and athletic stars of ancient Greece. In Hellenic times, laurel leaves were closely tied to Apollo, the god of music, prophecy and poetry. Apollo was usually depicted with a crown of laurel leaves, and the plant eventually became a symbol of status and achievement. Victorious athletes at the ancient Pythian Games received wreaths made of laurel branches, and the Romans later adopted the practice and presented wreaths to generals who won important battles. Venerable Greeks and Romans, or “laureates,” were thus able to “rest on their laurels” by basking in the glory of past achievements. Only later did the phrase take on a negative connotation, and since the 1800s it has been used for those who are overly satisfied with past triumphs.
READ THE RIOT ACT – These days, angry parents might threaten to “read the riot act” to their unruly children. But in 18th-century England, the Riot Act was a very real document, and it was often recited aloud to angry mobs. Instituted in 1715, the Riot Act gave the British government the authority to label any group of more than 12 people a threat to the peace. In these circumstances, a public official would read a small portion of the Riot Act and order the people to “disperse themselves, and peaceably depart to their habitations.” Anyone that remained after one hour was subject to arrest or removal by force. The law was later put to the test in 1819 during the infamous Peterloo Massacre, in which a cavalry unit attacked a large group of protestors after they appeared to ignore a reading of the Riot Act.
PAINT THE TOWN RED – The phrase “paint the town red” most likely owes its origin to one legendary night of drunkenness. In 1837, the Marquis of Waterford—a known lush and mischief maker—led a group of friends on a night of drinking through the English town of Melton Mowbray. The bender culminated in vandalism after Waterford and his fellow revelers knocked over flowerpots, pulled knockers off of doors and broke the windows of some of the town’s buildings. To top it all off, the mob literally painted a tollgate, the doors of several homes and a swan statue with red paint. The marquis and his pranksters later compensated Melton for the damages, but their drunken escapade is likely the reason that “paint the town red” became shorthand for a wild night out. Still yet another theory suggests the phrase was actually born out of the brothels of the American West, and referred to men behaving as though their whole town were a red-light district.
BY AND LARGE – Many everyday phrases are nautical in origin— “taken aback,” “loose cannon” and “high and dry” all originated at sea—but perhaps the most surprising example is the common saying “by and large.” As far back as the 16th century, the word “large” was used to mean that a ship was sailing with the wind at its back. Meanwhile, the much less desirable “by,” or “full and by,” meant the vessel was traveling into the wind. Thus, for mariners, “by and large” referred to trawling the seas in any and all directions relative to the wind. Today, sailors and landlubbers alike now use the phrase as a synonym for “all things considered” or “for the most part.”
THE THIRD DEGREE – There are several tales about the origin of “the third degree,” a saying commonly used for long or arduous interrogations. One theory argues the phrase relates to the various degrees of murder in the criminal code; yet another credits it to Thomas F. Byrnes, a 19th-century New York City policeman who used the pun “Third Degree Byrnes” when describing his hardnosed questioning style. In truth, the saying is most likely derived from the Freemasons, a centuries-old fraternal organization whose members undergo rigorous questioning and examinations before becoming “third degree” members, or “master masons.
SPILL THE BEANS –
One explanation dates back to ancient Greece when people would use beans to vote anonymously. White beans were used for positive votes, and for negative votes, black beans or other dark-colored beans were used. These votes were cast in secret, so if someone knocked over the beans in the jar—whether by accident or intentionally—they “spilled the beans” and revealed the results of the votes prematurely. Eventually, in modern times, the phrase “spill the beans” came to mean “upset a previously stable situation by talking out of turn.”
DIME A DOZEN – After the dime was made in 1796, people started advertising goods for “a dime a dozen.” This meant you were getting a good deal on products, such as a dozen eggs. Over time, the idiom evolved to mean the opposite. Instead of something being a good deal, it became a phrase to describe something that’s not valuable and easily available. The first known use of it in this context is believed to have occurred in 1930. From there, people picked up on the phrase’s new meaning and started using it in that context.
CHRISTMAS CARDS -The tradition of sending Christmas cards originated in the mid-1800s when a few people began to design handmade cards to send to family and friends. A man named John Calcott Horsley is credited as being the first to actually print Christmas cards. The card depicted a family enjoying the holiday, with scenes of people performing acts of charity. The card was inscribed: “Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year to You.” Some of the other cards of the era were rather bizarre!!!
CHRISTMAS GIFT! –
A greeting used on Christmas morning, with the first person saying it traditionally receiving a gift. The custom, which has been traced back to as early as 1844, is no longer observed but ‘Christmas gift!’, which used to be a far more popular Christmas greeting than ‘Merry Christmas!’, is still heard among older people.”
CHRISTMAS PICKLE – Pickle ornaments were considered a special decoration by many families in Germany where the fir tree was decorated on Christmas Eve. It was always the last ornament to be hung on the Christmas tree, with the parents hiding it in the green boughs among the other ornaments. When the children were allowed to view the tree they would begin gleefully searching for the pickle ornament. The children knew that whoever first found that special ornament would receive an extra little gift left by St. Nicholas for the most observant child.
EPIPHANY – January 6 is known in western Christian tradition as Epiphany. It goes by other names in various church traditions. In Hispanic and Latin culture, as well as some places in Europe, it is known as Three Kings’ Day. Because of differences in church calendars, mainly between the Eastern Orthodox and the western Catholic and Protestant traditions, both Christmas and Epiphany have been observed at different times in the past.
Epiphany is the climax of the Christmas Season and the Twelve Days of Christmas, which are counted from December 25th until January 5th. The day before Epiphany is the twelfth day of Christmas, and is sometimes called Twelfth Night, an occasion for feasting in some cultures. The term epiphany means to show” or “to make known” or even “to reveal.” In Western churches, it remembers the coming of the wise men bringing gifts to visit the Christ child, who by so doing “reveal” Jesus to the world as Lord and King.
GOD SPEED THE PLOUGH; PLOUGH MONDAY – God speed the plough, ‘a wish for success or prosperity,’ was originally a phrase in a 15th-century song sung by ploughmen on Plough Monday; the first Monday after the Twelfth Day, which is the end of the Christmas holidays, when farm laborers returned to the plough, soliciting ‘plough money’ to spend in celebration.
HARD CANDY CHRISTMAS – A bleak Christmas — one where the family is so low on money that everyone gets hard candy for Christmas instead of gifts. The phrase is the title of a song written by Carol Hall and sung by Dolly Parton: “Lord it’s like a hard candy Christmas.I’m barely getting through tomorrow.But still I won’t let Sorrow bring me way down.I’ll be fine and dandy.
MERRY CHRISTMAS – England of the Anglo-Saxon period and the Middle Ages was not a very happy place to be, let alone ‘merrie.’ So why the phrase “Merrie Christmas” indicating revelry and joyous spirits, as if England were one perpetual Christmastime? The answer is that the word ‘merrie’ originally meant merely ‘pleasing and delightful,’ not bubbling over with festive spirits, as it does today.
The same earlier meaning is found in the famous expression, ‘the merry month of May.'” Note: In “A Royal Duty,” Paul Burrell said the Queen preferred “Happy Christmas” because she believed “Merry Christmas” implies drunkenness.
SANTA CLAUS – Today, people around the world are familiar with the popularized depiction of Santa Claus: a chubby old gnome with a snow-colored beard, eight tiny reindeer, and an army of freckle-faced elves who leap at his beck and call.
Though commonly thought of as an American folk legend, Santa Claus owes most of his existence to old religious customs that came to this country with immigrants from Europe. Interwoven in our holiday tradition are the traditions of Spain, Germany, Italy and, above all, the Dutch Netherlands, where one of the clearest connections to the Santa tradition can be found.
Before becoming known in America as Santa Claus, this magical gift bearer was commonly referred to as “Sinter Claes” or “Sinterklass,” a Dutch language corruption of both the name and the religious title of Saint Nicholas, a fourth century bishop of the Eastern Orthodox Church. And as Dutch tradition tells it, Sinterklass doesn’t travel by sled or live at the North Pole. He also doesn’t dress up in a red velvet suit trimmed with faux polar bear fur, or manage a year-round sweatshop staffed by toy-making elves.
Making a list and checking it twice to keep an accurate record of who’s been naughty and who’s been nice throughout the year is a monumental task, even for a magical old dude like Sinterklass. So assisting him with his gift-giving enterprise is Zwarte Piet (literally “Black Peter”), a Moorish youth with an old school feathered cap on his head and 24-karat “bling” in his earlobes.
XMAS – “The X abbreviation of ‘Xmas’ for ‘Christmas’ is neither modern nor disrespectful. The notion that it is a new and vulgar representation of the word ‘Christmas’ seems to stem from the erroneous belief that the letter ‘X’ is used to stand for the word ‘Christ’ because of its resemblance to a cross, or that the abbreviation was deliberately concocted “to take the ‘Christ’ out of Christmas.” Actually, this usage is nearly as old as Christianity itself, and its origins lie in the fact that the first letter in the Greek word for ‘Christ’ is ‘chi,’ and the Greek letter ‘chi’ is represented by a symbol similar to the letter ‘X’ in the modern Roman alphabet.
Hence ‘Xmas’ is indeed perfectly legitimate abbreviation for the word ‘Christmas’ (just as ‘Xian’ is also sometimes used as an abbreviation of the word ‘Christian’). None of this means that Christians (and others) aren’t justified in feeling slighted when people write ‘Xmas’ rather than ‘Christmas,’ but the point is that the abbreviation was not created specifically for the purpose of demeaning Christ, Christians, Christianity, or Christmas — it’s a very old artifact of a very different language.
SHOPPING DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS – American retailer H. Gordon Selfridge (1856-1947) coined this expression ” __ shopping days until Christmas” while working for Marshall Field & Co. in Chicago. Later he coined the slogan “the customer is always right” when he opened Selfridge’s in London.
Marshall Field & Company gained notoriety for a number of unique promotions and features, like the Great Tree, which was a part of the store’s Christmas celebrations. In late fall, the phrase “looking ahead to the holidays” appeared in ads, with a full Christmas promotion following after Thanksgiving. “The Store of the Christmas Spirit,” “A Gift from Field’s Means More,” and “Christmas isn’t Christmas without a day at Marshall Field & Company” were advertising lines used to promote the store during the holidays.
Families lined up to eat under the Great Tree, visit “Cozy Cloud Cottage” and admire elaborate window displays, telling the story of “Uncle Mistletoe” and “Freddy Fieldmouse” which were creations of the store’s promotion department. Notably, one of the store’s windows displayed a beautiful crêche for Christmas, in addition to the commercial promotions that were popular along State Street.
Sew Colorful 