Years ago, one of the TV channels we watch was flooded with ads for a show called Chrisley Knows Best. The ads for the show, specifically Chrisley himself, turned me off. He came across as unfunny and uninteresting, yet somehow also a dirtbag, and I couldn’t understand why people would waste a minute of their precious time watching a show about him. From the ads, I couldn’t tell if it was a sitcom or a reality show, but either way, the character of Chrisley was a hard no for me, and I never watched it.
Chrisley aside, I don’t get why people watch reality TV in the first place — it’s nothing but an excuse for TV networks to chintz on writers, scripts, and actors.
The last two or three briskets I smoked turned out tough, so this Thanksgiving I’m slow-cooking one in the oven. I’ll dry rub it with a brown sugar and chili powder mix, then cook it over water mixed with liquid smoke at 250°F for 6 or so hours. Good thing we have over & under ovens, because while the brisket’s in one there’ll be a turkey in the other.
Our friend Mary Anne’s coming over, bringing sides and a Costco pumpkin pie; in addition to the turkey and brisket, we’re making the dressing and the absolutely most important Thanksgiving dish of all, cranberry sauce (from scratch, with a can of the regular stuff on hand as a backup). Polly’s scheduled to work a 9-5 shift at Safeway so we’ll keep her dinner warm for later.
Mary Anne’s offered to take in our three dachshunds while we visit our son, daughter in law, and grandchildren in Las Vegas over Christmas. It’s an 8-hour drive each way and we’ve always taken one or more dogs along. Doesn’t mean we don’t love ’em, but we’re looking forward to a road trip without them. Does that make us bad? I bet the Chrisleys would tie their dogs to the roof rack, like Mitt Romney.
I listed our utility trailer on Facebook marketplace and it sold right away, so we have some cash on hand and have decided to get the new iPhones now rather than wait until the T-Mobile rebate checks come in the mail. Donna’s at her hairdresser’s; when she gets home we’ll go see about those phones. If pre-Thanksgiving shopping traffic is too awful, we can wait until next week.
A friend contacted me about an earlier post, the one where I talked about dirty songs, offering to help with up-to-date information on a suit assault victims brought against the Air Force seven years ago, submitting a fighter squadron’s unofficial songbook as evidence of an institutional culture that glorifies sexual violence. As I’d mentioned in the post, I came up blank looking for updates on line, but my friend, who’s not only a lawyer and judge but a retired Air Force JAG, has resources I don’t, and is digging into it.
He sent me an interesting link, one some of my readers might share an interest in, a scholarly paper titled “Songs of the Air Force in the Vietnam War,” which was read to meetings of the American Folklore Society in Pittsburgh in October 1996 and the Popular Culture Association in San Antonio in March 1997 — a TED talk before there was TED. It mentions the bawdy songs aviators share with Hash House Harriers and rugby clubs but focuses on the military ones, some adapted from earlier wars, some composed by aviators who flew combat in Vietnam, the songs I learned long before I ever heard of hashing and rugby.
Thought I’d share one here, just to cheer you up. Don’t worry, this isn’t one of the bad ones cited in the lawsuit! It’s Itazuke Tower, a classic from the post-WWII & Korean War era, updated with Vietnam references in some of the versions I’ve heard and sung, here performed by folk singer Oscar Brand:
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