Yours portly is worn out after the second week of school, so I’m keeping it quick today: I’m sharing a video of some baked potatoes—and the recipe for making them yourself.
Yours portly is worn out after the second week of school, so I’m keeping it quick today: I’m sharing a video of some baked potatoes—and the recipe for making them yourself.
Yours portly is teaching World History for the second consecutive year (before last school year, the last time I’d taught the course was way back in the 2011-2012 school year, although I also taught the close cousin of World History, Western Civilization, at the local technical college more recently), and I love these early weeks of the course, as we talk about early civilizations and how they arose. The short answer is “agriculture.”
That always gets me thinking about this post from 2021 about how remote hunter-gatherer tribes would survive the collapse of civilization—because they lack it entirely.
It occurred to me that these remote peoples likely would not be the ones “rebuilding civilization.” Having not developed it in the first place, and seemingly unlikely to do so within any reasonable timeframe (because over the course of 6000 years of human civilization, they have never developed it), it seems like the best hope for civilization would, ironically, be the very peoples that destroyed it in the first place.
We see this pattern play out throughout history. The people living in the remnants of the Roman Empire rebuilt—however slowly—a distinctly European civilization. That’s not even mentioning the Eastern European or “Byzantine” Empire, which endured until 1453. We often forget that only half of the Roman Empire collapsed in the first place.
But I digress. I am a big believer in civilization, warts and all.
With that, here is 29 August 2024’s “TBT^4: Rebuilding Civilization: The Hunter-Gatherer“:
It seems that lately there is an endless parade of evidence showing illegal immigrants behaving badly—or, at the very least, with lethal incompetence. The latest example is the infamous Indian Sikh truck driver who made an unsignaled, last-minute U-turn, causing a family of three to crash into his trailer, killing them instantly.
An ex-girlfriend’s dad was a trucker for many years, and I remember him telling me that the state of the industry has really declined. Instead of unionized drivers with rigorous training and employment protections, there are loads of young, hastily-trained, immigrant men driving recklessly. As we saw with the Indian driver, many of these immigrants are here illegally, and come from cultures that do not hold human life sacred to the same extent as Western cultures.
Here’s something a bit different for today’s Open Mic Adventures. I’m never one to let anything go to waste, and that includes silly, improvised cover songs that I send as voice texts.
One morning a couple of weeks back I sang a “cover” of “Riders on the Storm,” the song by The Doors, but changed it to “Murphy on the Storm.” I amused myself so much with my shenanigans that I texted a rendition to my older brother. I then took that audio and plugged into iMovie on my phone, along with a picture of Murphy.
The result is absurdist hilarity.
The first, tiny hints of autumn are in the air in South Carolina. Temperatures have been down the past few days, and I can just make out the tiniest bits of golden-brown in the leaves. I announced the home varsity football this past Friday, and driving back up to campus with the windows down (my car’s A/C is still not working) gave me that sensation that only fall can give.
Naturally, this weather brings to my mind the best autumn holiday: Halloween. And Halloween means (among other things) horror movies.
Now, I’ve never been big on slashers, but one I re-watched recently on Shudder is a good example of the genre: Intruder (1989). Its unique setting—it takes place in a grocery store—and colorful cast of characters makes it really enjoyable. It’s also strangely wholesome for a slasher; as I recall, there aren’t the usual lurid displays of teenage sexuality, just lots of grocery kills.
Yours portly has completed the first week of school, and it was great! It’s kind of wild to think that after this week, I already have a day off (Labor Day).
Regardless, I thought it would be appropriate to look at some recent school-related posts:
Happy Sunday!
—TPP
Other Lazy Sunday Installments:
Today’s post is a SubscribeStar Saturday exclusive. To read the full post, subscribe to my SubscribeStar page for $1 a month or more. For a full rundown of everything your subscription gets, click here.
My brothers and I took an overnight trip last weekend to Myrtle Beach. Growing up, we would go to Myrtle Beach every summer for our dad to attend a big public works conference. While he languished away in conference sessions all day, our mom would take us all over Myrtle Beach to various attractions.
Naturally, we have fond memories of these annual trips, and we have several regular spots we like to check out on our visits as adults. One is the weird, wacky museum (for lack of a better word) that is Ripley’s Believe It or Not!
Ripley’s is named for the famed cartoonist Robert Ripley, who started his Believe It or Not! concept as a newspaper column. Ripley travelled the world and scrupulously documented everyone of his claims, even employing a team of researchers to help corroborate the wild facts that came pouring in from his journeys and his readers alike. Ripley built his first museum of oddities, which he called an “Odditorium,” in Chicago in 1933. He was also responsible for mobilizing public opinion in favor of making “The Star-Spangled Banner” the official national anthem of the United States (Congress passed a law, which President Herbert Hoover signed into law, in 1931, making the song the official anthem).
Ripley’s “Odditoriums” capture something of the spirit of a circus sideshow while also being, essentially, cosmopolitan museums of anthropology and natural history. If all of the artifacts, human remains, fossils, animals, etc., in a Ripley’s were presented less sensationally, almost all of them would fit nicely into the environment of your standard history or natural history museum. Ripley’s, however, goes a step further, and makes these weird, scary, cool things even more weird, scary, and cool by way of a mysterious, slightly sleazy, very sensationalistic presentation.
Consider that the name of the “Odditoriums” officially end with an exclamation point: Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Almost every placard has a nice exclamation point in its description, adding that extra level of grammatical excitement. It really draws attention to how wild, crazy, and/or unusual the factoid is, which just makes it even more memorable.
Then, of course, there are the artifacts themselves. Some are replicas; some are full-sized wax figures; some are actual artifacts. I was surprised by the sheer number of actual human remains on display in the museum, from shrunken heads to limbs to mummies. There are additionally wax reproductions of people with strange deformities, like a man with two pupils and irises in each eye; a Chinese man with a candle implanted into his skull; and a woman with a horn growing out of her head. There’s even a model of a pig, John Arnold, with six legs (and he’s from Darlington, South Carolina!):

The museum has a fun, often spooky, slightly dangerous feel to it, even though it is perfectly safe. It very much conjures up that sensation of being at a weird circus or county fair, with all sorts of freaks and oddballs skulking about.
To read the rest of this post, subscribe to my SubscribeStar page for $1 a month or more.
As readers know from my epic “Ululations for U-Haul,” I had to move a significant amount of heavy and large furniture from my future in-laws’ house to my humble abode. My house is not large—it’s roughly 1000-square feet—and already stuffed with my junk.
Fortunately, I’m excellent at Tetris and the grandson of a furniture store owner. I also grew up in a Victorian house that my mother crammed so full of knick-knacks, bric-a-brac, and gewgaws that I know how to maneuver around tight spaces overstuffed with furniture. As such, I’ve adapted well to my new hoarder-like conditions.
I documented the state of my home post-move, mainly for my future in-laws’ amusement. Then I uploaded it to YouTube, where it somehow managed to rack up 1,469 views (at the time of writing). Let’s get that to 1500, eh, dear readers?
One of the appeals of teaching is that there is a rhythm and regularity to the school year. The same events occur at roughly the same times each week, each month, each year. I became a teacher for many reasons, but the predictability of the schedule has always been a major appeal. I like a structure of routine that allows for great variety of experiences and activities within that larger structure.
So it is that we have come, once again, to the first day of Chapel for the new academic year. We have Chapel every Thursday morning during our Morning Break/Meeting time.
Very occasionally, yours portly is called upon to deliver a brief Chapel lesson. Here is one from a few years ago. My only regret is that I did not do more to tie the message specifically and overtly back to Christ.
With that, here is 22 August 2024’s “TBT^2: Chapel Lesson: Listening”:
Yours portly is back into the swing of things at school, and therefore have not had much time to write. I meant to hammer out a post last night after work, but the siren song of Civilization VII, coupled with post-teaching relaxation, was too strong to resist. As such, here’s a quick update: