The Vedantist at the Diner

 

There’s no zeal like that of the newly converted.
 

Did you hear the one about the new initiate to Advaita Vedanta?
 

This fella stops by a local diner for a bite to eat. The waitress comes over to take his order. While she patiently stands there he goes over the menu and at each item he comments, “Not this,” “Not this,” “Not this,” “Not this.”

After he goes through the entire 6 page menu like that, the waitress asks: “So, what’ll it be?”
 

He responds, “I don’t know.”

She: “Well, if you don’t know, who should?”

He: “Precisely!”

Thumb in His Food

Breakfast at a cafe the waitress brings the man his coffee. She sets it on the table, but her thumb is right in the coffee. The man is concerned, but says nothing.

Then she brings his scrambled eggs; and, once again, now her thumb is in the eggs.

The man says, “Hey, what’s the deal? You served my coffee with your thumb right in it, and now your thumb is in my eggs?”

She replies, “Yes, sir, I know. I have arthritis in my thumb and the doctor said I should keep it someplace warm.”

 He says, “Try this. Why don’t you put your thumb where the sun don’t shine!”

And, she, “I do, I do. But, only when I'm in the kitchen.”

While You are Waiting

 

A disconsolate woman is waiting for the train. She is cradling a baby.  The train station is empty and it is late at night.

The station attendant sees her most miserable weeping and crying and approaches to offer some comfort. “There, there. What seems to be the trouble?”

“I have to leave my town, may family, and all my friends. They all keep making fun of my baby. I have to take my sweet darling baby to another place to live.”

“I’m so sorry for you. May God see you both to a happier place. Perhaps you would like a nice cup of tea while you are waiting?”

“Yes, that would be nice. You are most kind.”

The station attendant thanked her for the compliment, and added, “I’ll go and get your tea. And, maybe a banana for your monkey?”

Waiter, Bring Me Coffee Without Cream



Raisin?

 

 

More for the file of Jokes Where Someone Walks In:

An old gent comes into a bake shop to buy a loaf of raisin bread. The pretty young thing waiting on him has to climb a small ladder to reach for that item on a high shelf.

 

When she is poised high above—her skirt is rather short, and the fellow is enjoying the view—she turns to confirm, “Is it raisin?”

“No, but it tingles a little.”

Integration



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Careful Not to Offend the Brussels Sprouts

 Photo Credit + Recipe Suggestion

From Cooky Cat . . .

When our friend David Wronski was coming up in his errant youth he attended the top rated University of Detroit High School in Michigan. It is a Jesuit institution situated in what was then a neighborhood of predominantly Jewish families. As one of the ever irreverent Jesuit teachers put it, "The land of the Hebees and the Jebees." This mention is not just a clever bit to mildy shock. It turns out to be an important part of what will ultimately become — if you can hang on through it all — an excellent Brussels Sprouts recipe. And, suitable for Kosher cooks.


David spoke about his Biology classes in his senior year at his alma mater. Mr. Jim Lotze was his teacher there. As you may know the Jesuits are a teaching order. At that time Mr. Lotze was at the "Scholastic" level in his training toward the priesthood, and all Scholastics are addressed as "Mr." Well, Mr. Lotze (plain "Lotze" when we guys spoke of him) was not only an inspired and excellent teacher of science. Every day his students would show up for class and the blackboard(s) would be completely filled with amazing colored chalk drawings of what was being covered in that day's lecture.  

Mr. Lotze also taught the Chemistry class. That class was held in a room with amphitheater style seating and multiple blackboards at the front, the kind that could be raised to reveal another chalkboard surface just behind. Now Mr. Lotze took full dramatic advantage of this system of blackboards and was fond of shooting one board quickly upward to reveal the new material behind. Boys being boys, one day someone secreted an obscenity behind one of his boards and the class got quite a laugh when Mr. Lotze stood there with a satisfied grin as he revealed with his usual flourish the amazing new information. The board came down just as quickly.

Mr. Lotze also shared from the breadth of his experience with his students; sometimes far afield of the core curriculum. David remembers during one Chemistry class session being engaged in a lively discussion on the question "What is Art?"; a conversation he (claims) continues to develop to this very day.  It was during the Biology course that David was exposed to Philosophy by way of Paleontology when Mr. Lotze recommended The Phenomenon of Man by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J.  You should know at the time de Chardin's works were severely criticized by the Catholic Church, some even banned. Those Jesuits! But, in recent times both Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI have spoken favorably.

The Wikipedia entry for The Phenomenon of Man calls it, "a sweeping account of the unfolding of the cosmos". Pope Benedict "praised Teilhard's idea of the universe as a 'living host'". The idea of a scale of consciousness embedded throughout creation in every blessed thing. Rocks, even. And a progress in evolution to a point of Oneness, de Chardin's "Omega Point". As the qoutes ascribed to Pierre Teilhard de Chardin following this will show, clearly they have stayed with our Mr. Wronski in his own development in this here God's Creation.

Huh, you ask? So what does this have to do with Brussels Sprouts? 

Recently David came upon the first Brussels Sprouts of the season at a nearby Farmers Market. A traditional (usual?) recipe is to pair them with cooked chestnuts. For a big flavor boost, browned lardons of smoked cooked Polish bacon (Boczek Gotowany - Wedzony).

But, David also likes to cook vegetarian style dishes and it occurred to him that Tempeh (a fermented soybean food product, typically sold in 8 ounce packages) would be a good substitute for both the chestnuts and the bacon, texture-wise and flavor too. An idea he could also share with his Kosher cooking friends.

Regarding Tempeh, the late Marcella Hazan, in correspondence with David, made this blunt and direct comment: "Forget about tempeh, please."

The concern, however, owing to David's understanding of the nature of things in the cosmos — that there is consciousness in all things — was about shocking or offending those Brussels Sprouts by introducing such a non-traditional accompaniment as ... Tempeh.

It is a delicious alternative and here is the work-around for any fussiness from those easily offended Brussels Sprouts.

Brussels Sprouts with Tempeh . . .

(One package of Tempeh is enough for four servings when used as an accompanying ingredient.)

First cut the Tempeh loaf in half at the middle, then slice each half (carefully) in half again from the edge to create thinnish slabs. Fry until golden brown on both sides in butter or a vegetable oil. Important: as soon as the tempeh sheets are browned douse them with a good tamari. (What is a "good" tamari? Peruse the aisles of any well stocked Jananese food store and you will see "good" tamari. It also costs more.) Cut the finished tempeh in cubes sized to your liking and combine with steamed buttered Brussels Sprouts. Whole, halved, or chiffonade. (The chiffonade style can also be prepared uncooked into a cole slaw type salad.)

As Mrs. Wronski used to say, "None the wiser." That is the people who are used to always having the chestnuts and bacon. Even the Brussels Sprouts themselves. Not to mention the Tempeh which the addition of Tamari should keep it from any fussing on account of the cultural affinity.  

This little step of adding Tamari to browned Tempeh seems to produce a transformation which, to our palate anyway, competes with that bacon gold standard. If you have a hard time accepting this, then prepare the Tempeh as above and cut into thin strips to add to a spinach and mushroom salad. Oh, Boy! Umani!

Also, the recipe above is a "basis" recipe. You can add garlic and/or browned fresh bread crumbs to bring the fancy.

____________________________________________

Now, let's get philosophical . . .

 Quoting Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S. J.



Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.

We are one, after all, you and I, together we suffer, together exist and forever will recreate each other.

The most satisfying thing in life is to have been able to give a large part of one's self to others.


Love alone is capable of uniting living beings in such a way as to complete and fulfill them, for it alone takes them and joins them by what is deepest in themselves.

In the final analysis, the questions of why bad things happen to good people transmutes itself into some very different questions, no longer asking why something happened, but asking how we will respond, what we intend to do now that it happened.

You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience. You are a spiritual being immersed in a human experience.

Growing old is like being increasingly penalized for a crime you haven't committed.

The world is round so that friendship may encircle it.

Love is the affinity which links and draws together the elements of the world ... Love, in fact, is the agent of universal synthesis.

Love is a sacred reserve of energy; it is like the blood of spiritual evolution.

Driven by the forces of love, the fragments of the world seek each other so that the world may come to being.

It doesn't matter if the water is cold or warm if you're going to have to wade through it anyway.

It is our duty as men and women to proceed as though the limits of our abilities do not exist.

He that will believe only what he can fully comprehend must have a long head or a very short creed.

The universe as we know it is a joint product of the observer and the observed.

Our duty, as men and women, is to proceed as if limits to our ability did not exist. We are collaborators in creation.

Source Brainy Quote

I Laid an Egg at the Farmers Market

This season we have been regular and enthusiastic customers at a local Farmers Market. Not the kind that comes to your suburban town in some vacant lot one day a week. They're fine too, I suppose; but what's with the "boutique" pricing? No, I'm talking about the kind that I remember from my youth where my mother and father would shop on weekends. The kind with a dedicated central location with a permanent roof, open at the sides, with spots for the growers to back up their trucks loaded from which they sold their fruits and vegetables. I even remember tagging along with mom and dad and seeing kittens and the occasional puppy for sale. Think, Old School.

Occasionally on my weekly religious visit to the Paterson, New Jersey Farmers Market I would see something that was pretty big compared to what's usual. Radishes, for one. Beets. Recently arugula with leaves as big as my hand. More than a few times when I saw such over large items I would ask, "And where do you keep the really big ones?" (That's a joke, or an attempt at one, if you must be told.)

It must be that I'm an urban sort and not living the simpler rural life. Unfailingly my question would be met with either a blank stare or, "this is all we got." I knew I had laid an egg when the poker faced farmer lady said to me, "We only have big ones. I don't know what you're talking about." Evidently irony is not everyone's cup of tea.

With jokes, as in all of life, not everyone is your customer.

Follow That

 

Walk - Wise

 

 

Even though we do not condone the charming lady's wardrobe choice, we cannot but help but admire her gait.

 

In particular, notice how the hips move forward slightly following each step forward. This movement is not only naturally sensual it is tonifying to the entire pelvis. And, also that movement carries upward and brings ease into the lower back. Not to mention how that gliding motion of the stride is easy on the legs and feet.

 

In short there are ways of moving and using the body that are healthful. Obviously, in this case, it shows.

 

Follow that lady! In how you yourself walk, that is.

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𝐄𝐡-𝐩𝐡-𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐭 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐩𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 ... 𝐎𝐫, 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐒𝐡𝐞?

Eh-ph-ster Et THE Epfted ... Or, Did She?

(Very) Original Bedtime Story 

By David D. Wronski

Some business things first. "Eh-ph-ster" is the little girl’s name. Really! So to not to as to make the little darling teary eyed and down in the mouth and all mopey-dopey we will be saying her name right. OK? Right!

Let’s break it down: The “Eh-” you pronounce like the sound of a big loud inhale of air. The “ph-ster” you say kind of quick, but not too quick or it will sound like a sneeze and your mother will be putting you to bed and giving you chicken soup and taking your temperature every fifteen minutes. So, not so fast as a sneeze, but not so slow that you could fit a slice of pizza between the “ph-” and the “ster”. Eh-ph-ster, just the way it’s spelled. Say it right. Don't be a silly.

What kind of name is that, "Eh-ph-ster", you might ask?

Here's the skinny. Her Mom wanted to name her Ester, and her Dad liked Ephegene. Like their parents’ parents’ parents’ parents before them they compromised. Dad’s name is “Edfold” and Mom is “Eustancia”. His folks settled on a compromise over “Edsel” and “Efold”. Her folks got together over “Eusticia” and “Etonisca”. You could say it was a marriage made in heaven. Or you could say, "E-gads!"

Who could have even imagined that two people from families with a penchant for not only naming every dern one of their offspring with a name beginning with the letter “E” and would, historically down the line from the time of the first recording of their family histories — and presumably even before that down the eons and mists of prerecorded history to a time who knows when; but who knows since its before recorded history, silly — have a mom and a dad where each would have different ideas of what to name the kid but would always come to some compromise that all agreed was even better than the sum of the parts. 

Now that’s cleared up let’s proceed.

Eh-ph-ster was an inquisitive little girl. One day gazing at the fishies etcetera in her fish bowl, which was set on a small but sturdy table in one corner of her room . . . then it hit her. Not the fishy bowl, silly. But a great idea. “I’ll go to the local deep sea divers shop — one "Diver Dan's Diverse Diving Divertisments" — and learn how to dive and then I can go deep down into the sea and see what there is to see, in the sea. For sure. I think.”

The next thing you know there’s one little Eh-ph-ster walking around in a specially designed diving suit in the ocean at what one person who was there swore must have been the deepest part of the ocean. The dive suit was designed by her, mind you. This girl also had a head on her shoulders. But now, also a huge waterproof bubble thingy on her shoulders too. (That’s so she wouldn’t get her hair all wet. Which had a tendency to frizzle even on a rainy day, let alone down in the ocean.) “If you’re going to all the trouble to walk around on the deepest ocean floor you might as well look your best,” Eh-ph-ster would say. Let that be a lesson to you too.

Anyhow, there’s little Eh-ph-ster strolling around on the ocean floor when what does she see but that it looks like a hot dog. Not a dog that is hot, but a hot dog. The kind you eat in a soft bun with a squiggle of yellow mustard.

Really! Why would we fib about such a thing anyway, silly?

Who doesn’t like a hot dog? Eh-ph-ster not being an exception, naturally picked it up and put it into her collection net along with the gold doubloons and large precious jewels she got when just a little before she discovered a pirate's chest that was hidden away some time ago. By a pirate, silly. Who else?

After her dive when she was back on board the boat it was time for lunch and Eh-ph-ster knew what she would be having. That little hot dog.

Funny thing though. That little hot dog was nice and warm and ready to eat even just after emerging from the icy cold dark ocean depths. What’s going on there, huh? If you ever have yourself eaten a hot dog in a pool, or in the bathtub, or in the rain you know that they get all soggy and mushy and the mustard slips off and you have a mess and your parents weren’t all that happy to find you doing something silly like that. Come on, admit it. Don’t be embarrassed, we’ve all been there.

Well, little Eh-ph-ster, unbeknownst to her at the time, was making history. In fact that weren’t no hot dog after all. It was an Epfted. It was in rare fact the very first and only Epfted anyone had ever seen, let alone brought up from the ocean deep and got close enough to put on a plate, let alone think that it could make a nice lunch. But, who knew? Certainly not the lovely unpresupposing little Eh-ph-ster.

We know it was an Epfted only after this very incident which is unfolding even as you read this here story. Because, before little Eh-ph-ster came upon this little beastie, it was never known in the entire history of the entire world. Really!

And, oh, yes. The thing about the Epfted is that it can talk. And, in whatever language the person who is near it happens to speak. So right away little Eh-ph-ster is in a fix. By this time she is getting pretty hungry, what with and after all that moseying around under the ocean depths on the ocean bottom. But, just as she is about to eat what she thinks is a delicious hot dog, what does she hear?

“Hey, kid, hold on a minute. Put me down! Now!” If you were the world’s only Epfted you wouldn’t be mincing your words either. Did we mention that it was not only the first Epfted anyone had ever laid eyes on, but it was the one and only Epfted in existence? Seems that the Epfted was such an evolutionary oddity that once it came into existence Mother Nature closed the gate on it right away. Unceremoniously shut it down. One Epfted is one too many. Apparently.

So that’s why it would be a problem to eat one of those critters. Not that it would be the end of the Epfted, mind you. The Epfted has a way of reconstituting itself even it was chopped up into the tiniest pieces. Blended into a smoothie. Mushed to mush. So, if someone were to eat the Epfted, they’d wind up with a real live Epfted in their belly, and it doesn’t take a whale of a lot of imagination to figure out the kind of trouble it is to be living inside someone’s stomach. Ask that fellow Jonah if you don’t believe it.

There’s not too much to tell after that. Eh-ph-ster out of sheer fright put that Epfted down, and fast. Whereupon the critter sprouted legs that looked very much like potato sticks and scrambled off the plate, as fast as scrambled eggs would fall off the plate if you had a mind to do such a silly thing. And, don't do such a silly thing. Eat your scrambled eggs. Then jumping off the table and with a running jump the Epfted returned to the sea from whence it came, though the sea itself wasn’t all that pleased either that once again the lonely and solitary Epfted would be prowling around on the seabed deep. Noisy little buggers, those Epfteds.

As it leaped to its safety that little Epfted could be heard to say, “You can’t have your Epfted and eat it too.”

So kiddies. Let that be a lesson to you all.

And, if that's not enough . . .

Take this! Then go to sleep.

But first a quiz: How many times did the "Epfted" show up in this story?

(Answer: There's only one Epfted.)

 

Cousin Harry ("Horny Harry") was, well, a horn dog. His endowments were considerable, but in terms of smarts Grandma used to say, "That boy's brains might as well be just painted on." Quite a turn of phrase, that Grandma, don't you think? Alas, fitting in Harry's case. No complaints otherwise, though.

Horn dog / Hound Dog . . .

See all the other Wronski's by going to the sidebar "Oh! Wronski / All My Relations". Or, for the full bore hystericory go to this this page.