A Ringing Endorsement.

Arnie, in a shot taken just outside his
divorce lawyer's office, circa November 2011

“My friend Wolf’s book is very good.  I know this for a fact because a person

who is an American who read it told me that she liked it.  She also spoke that

maybe even better is the translation by this Ahhnnie Janusch.

"I have to agree because without it my friend who is an American would not

have been able to read it because she reads only American words.”

 Arnold Schwarznegger

Found in Translation.

Congrats to Annie J!  (Now we know what she's been doing besides
attending grad school full-time AND teaching Iowa undergrads in
Iowa City.)  What a nice feather in her translator's cap!

Brenner And God
By Wolf Haas, translated by Annie Janusch, Melville House, 224 pages, $14.95

“My grandmother always used to say to me when you die, they’re gonna give that
mouth of yours its own funeral.”

That opening line introduces the narrator of this superb translation of one of
Austria’s finest crime novels. As he/she relates the adventures of ex-Inspector
Brenner, late of the police, now a chauffeur for a billionaire land developer,
the pace is gentle, the humour subtle, the ideas fresh. In short, we get a series
that has elements of the delightful Fred Vargas’s Inspector Adamsberg, but really
owes more to the elegant German author H.H. Kirst, who chronicled the idiocies
of total war in his Gunner Asch series and climaxed his career with the brilliant
Night Of The Generals. Nothing is rushed as the story begins with a kidnapping
and ends with murder.

We first encounter Brenner as chauffeur to the Kressdorf family. Pa is the Munich
developer. Ma is a well-known (and much maligned) doctor who operates a
controversial birth control clinic in Vienna. Brenner, or Herr Simon as the
Kressdorfs prefer, drives their two-year-old daughter Helena, from one parent
to another, or to their mutual home in Kitzbuhel. The job is easy. Brenner likes
the baby. He has a roof, a salary, benefits. One day, while he’s buying Helena a
chcolate bar at a gas station, she vanishes. Brenner is summarily sacked. The
real police will search for Helena. Haas never loses the thread of investigation,
even as he introduces off-beat characters and a very complex plot.

This 2009 work predates the Euro crash so Haas’s observations of the German
plutocracy, smugly ensconced in their BMWs, is essential to the story. The
Developer is plowing under a famous park to build MegaLand, a combination
shopping mall, entertainment hub and living space. Oh, and Brenner does
find God.

This is the first of the Brenner novels in English. We can only hope for more, soon.

WOLF HAAS was born in 1960 in the Austrian province of Salzburg.
He is the author of seven books in the bestselling Detective Brenner mystery
series, three volumes of which have been made into popular German-language
films. Among other prizes, the Brenner books have been awarded the German
thriller prize and the 2004 Literature Prize from the City of Vienna.

ANNIE JANUSCH, who no longer puts her foot in her mouth as her
outstanding translation of Haas' book proves, is also the translator of
the Art of the Novella edition of Heinrich von Kleist’s The Duel.

More like Global Roasting...

And we all couldn't wait til summer....

One Year Later...

Key West, July 4, 2011 - The newlyweds and their distinguished guests (including a passel of Joel's siblings and his
 mother, far right) in the wake of the ceremony.

All the Best to Char and Joel who have survived Year One of their Union (after
going steady for 17 years just to make sure they were compatible).

Our glasses and plastic cups and bottles and cans – heavy
with condensation in this beastly heat – are raised in
your honor you two.

HB Maggie!

The One and Only, captured here while deeply into her Native American phase,
shows off what was then the latest (and greatest) addition to her t-shirt collection.
Here's hoping that tonight's celebration and gifts bring her half as much glee.
And if they don't?  At least she can now legally drown her sorrows.
Happy 21st Maggie!

Remembering one of our all-time favorites...

Cousin Johnny Mac passed this along a while ago.  Been meaning
to post it.  Uncle Judd was a good man, always fun to be around (except
when he was smoking a fat stogey while driving with the windows up and
the a/c on, and you were sitting just behind him in the back seat).  He
died far, far too young: 62!

Note:  This article ran in the MESC newsletter shortly after Judd's
death in 1971 (or was it 1970?).  Will confirm.

Sweet Home Alabama. NOT.

Our Ancestral Deep South, TODAY - Privacy laws prevent me from divulging the precise nature of the news but be assured that it was very good indeed for Chris (pictured above at the very moment his much-hoped-for new reality was sinking in).  Given his walking papers (so to speak), he immediately ran back to his rental car, sped back to the airport, and flew back home, promising himself that he will never again set foot on Confederate soil (even though he has two great-grandfathers who fought for the Southern Cause in the Civil War and should therefore have been treated as an Honored Northern Guest, NOT a Damn Yankee).

Congratulations, Chris, on beating what was a ridiculous, trumped up rap in the first place and extricating yourself from the clutches of an antiquated system run by guys with names like Gomer, Goober, Barney, and Billy Bob....  Well done.

John Pruitt begs to differ...

Bill posted "best summer song ever" on the HackFester.

Maybe, maybe not.

There are a lot of great versions of  Summertime, and this may be the best...

Click HERE.


With all due respect Mr. Music Meister Man, I was thinking along
the lines of the tunes we used to listen to in the backseat while Dad
drove us all home from Camp Dearborn.  While your preferred version
of Summertime is, indeed, most impressive, it also seems to be targeted
to a more mature crowd (i.e., YOU.  Now.)  Back then, we would
have been screaming for a station-change (WKNR to CKLW?) without
reservation or delay had it suddenly come on the radio.

Just like Hot Fun in the Summertime, this next tune is more along the
lines of what we grew up with and preferred to hear back in them thar days...

Click HERE.

The Jamies

It ain't summer til you've heard this...

Best summer song ever. 
Click HERE.

Yes...some of these bathing beauties are related to us.  And yes...this would have been what you'd have
worn to the beach if you're a female and had been born a generation or two earlier.

If, on the other hand, you're male, you'd have been attired thusly...

Neither of these blokes is related to us, I can happily report.

HB to a Baltimore Original...

Hidden HackFester Cam Shot, JPM Enterprises, All Rights Reserved

circa 1987 - The multi-talented Birthday Boy Matty Boh Himself

(AKA, Matty O), seen here hydrating himself while practicing tightrope

 walking while pooping his Pampers.

Not many private citizens have their own logo.

Matt does.

All the Best on Your Big Day, Matty Boh!

HB Michael J!

circa 1962-3

On this festive occasion, it's time to examine two works of literary significance constructed by the Birthday Boy Himself.  The first (above) goes back about a half-century and is as cute as a litter of two-day-old kittens; the second one (below) was written about 30 years ago.  After perusing both pieces, I'd have to say that MJ was wise to turn to printing (vs.calligraphy), or that postcard would have been good for about 13 words.  And that the eventual introductions of spell-check** and grammar-check were, for him, absolute godsends....
All the Best on Your Big Day Mikey!
(And keep those cards and letters coming!)


**Curious that this recent college grad (with a degree in Geography no less) spelled "Mountains"
 M-o-u-n-t-i-a-n-s not once, not twice, but three times in a tiny 3x5 postcard.  (Actually, my bad... I wasn't around to edit.)

circa 1979-80, Euro backpacking tour with Donna

Ladies and Gentlemen...the Beatles...in Detroit!!!

Hard to believe that the Beatles performed in Detroit. Even

harder to believe that the tickets were a paltry $5.50. Hell,

with my cashier's job at Krogers, I could have bought a

whole row. Why didn't I know about this!!!???

(Maybe I did, and I had to work that night? Damn it.)

Scroll back up to the photo... Note the "Keener" radio van

parked in front of the venue (the long-since demolished

Olympia Stadium, former home of the Detroit Red Wings).

See the electric sign attached to the van's roof?

At the moment the shot was taken, it had PAUL

displayed on it.

Also check out the marquee and the next act on tap at

the stadium: The Grand Ole Opry. Missed that

performance too. (Thank god.)

And finally, the Shell gas station sign on the right

reminds us of the price of gas in 1966:  32 cents a gallon.

A buck's worth and you could drive around all night (the

radio tuned to WKNR, of course).

Backstage:  George and Ringo, removing lint from their matching coats which
will soon be covering their matching shirts.  That's show business.
 Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Cheese Glorious Cheese...

Amira's friend Gabby brought this treat to Amira's birthday dinner
 along with an impudent bottle of Malbec.  It's Delice de Bourgogne,
 a triple cream cheese made from cow's milk in Burgundy, France. 

Get it if you can...it truly doesn't get any better than this.

Incidentally,Gabby bought it at Whole Foods, and I found it at a

 much-smaller local shop, Plum Market, so clearly the word is

spreading about this gem.  This means that even if you live in a

 backwater state such as New Jersey, Florida, or Maryand,
you can still probably find it.

 Best to let it sit out for 30 or 40 minutes and then to slather it
 on chunks of a very crispy baguette washed down with your
 favorite beverage (wine is preferred, but this stuff would taste
remarkable paired even with tap water).

Bon appetit!

UPDATE, 6/11/12:  Mavourneen texted that she found it at Trader
Joe's!  Amazing.  I'd never heard of it until May 21st.  Now I'm
learning that it's everywhere, it's everywhere....

RIP.

In memory of Pierre's mère, Annick Goven, who passed

 away late last week after a prolonged battle with cancer. 

A War Hero to Remember this Memorial Day...

Uncle Harry F. Kelly, circa 1917-1918
Note: Harry was married to Anne O'Brien, one of
Martha Marion's older sisters (along with Eleanor,
Kitty, and Margaret).


Found this letter to Harry's father after Harry was wounded in the
famous Battle of Chateau-Thierry.  To read it, click
HERE.

Millions were killed in WWI, during which tanks, the machine gun,
poison gas, long-range artillery, and aerial bombing were first used
to obliterate the enemy (which included noncombatants who happened
to get in the way, including women, children, the elderly) 

It was originally called The Great War because nobody in his right
mind could conceive of going through such hell ever again.  Unfortunately,
Hitler wasn't in his right mind....