"D" Day: Gone and Almost Forgotten

Perhaps it was because it was my father's generation, but I recall yearly headlines, parades and a sense of international unity which built around June 6, 1944...more famously, or at least in those days...famously known as D-Day.

Today, not only is that day gone...but it is almost forgotten. But in 1944 it was nothing short of a miracle, as Sir Dayvd's Island graciously lent its hallowed shores as a staging ground for the liberation of Europe from Hitler's iron grip.

I had four family members who participated on that fateful day. My father was a crew member of one of the landing ships, who saw many such ships exploded by mines, German 88's and racked with machine gun fire, but miraculously made it through several trips unscathed. My uncle Oran, his oldest brother, was flying support with the 8th Airforce that day, again without a scratch. My uncle Ray, married to one of my father's sisters, was one of a handful of Army Rangers who landed at Omaha Beach, scaled the cliffs and took out the 88's on top that where causing so much havoc, and made it out alive. He did take a bullet...his third in as many campaigns going back to North Africa. My uncle John, my mother's brother and father to Sir John of the Rangeline, jumped with the 82nd Airborne behind enemy lines that day. He made it unscathed all the way to Bastogne, where a German Tiger Tank blew up the headquarters where he was a quartermaster and a large ceiling beam crushed his back. But fate was on his side...because after Patton rescued them in the Battle of the Bulge, he was shipped back to London where he met his nurse, soon to be his wife and my aunt, Nita. That is just one family of many families who made a difference on one day.

Days like this often cause me to think of the many D-Days we all face. D-Day is not necessarily a negative, violent, glorious or momentous day...but a day where the fates shape around you to launch you towards another chapter in your life...usually unexpectedly. Mine can be summed up with the death of my mother at 17, changing majors in college from music to communications, getting fired from my first job after college for taking a risk...which lead me to my present career (if that hadn't of happened I might still be running camera at a television station waiting for retirement...this is also where I met Sir Bowie), meeting Lady Allwinky on a elevator on holiday in Jamaica, the birth of my children, losing my dream home because of a business calamity, my open heart surgery, breaking my back, meeting Sir Dayvd at McGrath's in Harrisburg, leaving a company and partnership I built after 25 years, starting a new business, launching the Knights of Moleskine, Spirit and Ale.

What are your D-Days? Always remember and respect them. They make us who we are as individuals and as a collective.




There are precious few veterans of that day in June of 44, but they still remember what they did in spite of their fear. You can never get rid of fear, but you can put fear in its proper place and continue to move forward. Every one of my D-Days starting in fear, but propelled me to an even greater appreciation for life and for what is possible if I only believe in myself more than in my fear.

Make this day and every day the best D-Day you possibly can!

Sir Hook a Son of Normandy of Warrick

The Gross-Food Movement

I live in a town that is famous for our brain sandwiches. Yes, read brain (pork or beef) sandwiches. I've been know to devour one along with a couple of fishbowls of ice cold beer (preferably PBR when I can get it).

I bring this up only because Lady Suzanne and I are getting ready to head to our "downtown" to walk around the city's "First Friday's" event. I know that there will be a vintage car show, beer, and... cross food (which I LOVE!)

According to Gourmet Food Magazine, Gross Food is becoming a movement. I think that this is something that all good Knights should celebrate. From a recent article by Roberts Ashley (edited for length. Photograph by Winnie Yang):


In the faddish world of online pop culture, a particular species of food movement has taken root. Its partisans don’t care whether your ingredients are fresh, organic, or locally grown. Really, they’d prefer it if you did your grocery shopping in the freezer section. The movement isn’t about taking your time in the kitchen or cooking from scratch, though its adherents sometimes spend hours on their creations. And if you’re focused on making healthy, balanced meals, free of trans fat, light on meat, and served in modest portions, then you’re definitely not among their ranks.

The Gross-Food Movement, as I hereby christen it, is a grassroots embrace of all things deep-fried, bacon-wrapped, and cheese-slathered. The movement recently made its way into the media spotlight with meteoric rise of the blog This is Why You’re Fat (which was promptly followed by book deal), but Gross Food has its roots in dorm-room kitchens and Super Bowl parties. Fueled by photo-sharing sites including SupersizedMeals.com and popularized by an online audience hungry for the ridiculous, the movement seeks to create food concoctions that violate all the rules of healthy eating and gustatory sophistication. Gross foodies compete in a battle to create the most outlandish, gluttonous, artery-destroying food combinations possible: Deep-fried peanut butter. Meatloaf stuffed with macaroni and cheese and wrapped in bacon. Sloppy Joes on Krispy Kreme doughnut buns. And that’s just the simple stuff.

Consider the Taco Town Taco. Inspired by a Saturday Night Live skit of the same name, gross foodie Andrew Sloan and his friends spent hours in an Oklahoma kitchen building this fast-food Frankenstein. Layered among the tortillas and beans were a crèpe stuffed with sausage and eggs, a “meat lovers’” freezer pizza, and a blueberry pancake. Sloan and friends put it together, dipped it into a vat of batter, and deep-fried it. Then they dropped it into a bucket of vegetarian chili. Then they ate it. A few bites at least.

Something about these creations just grabs your attention—layer upon layer of gluttony in an age when we’re inundated with messages about improving our diets, eating less-processed food, and watching our weight. It’s a middle finger to the Michael Pollan and Alice Waters types, an assertion of the American birthright to consume in deadly quantities.

The “gross” in Gross Food, after all, also implies an excessive size. Case in point: The “Porkgasm,” several pounds of various kinds of pork—two types of homemade sausage, bacon, and ham, stuffed with smoked sausage, pork belly, and even more bacon—all sculpted into the shape of a pig. All pigs are made out of meat, of course, but this one is something special. The Porkgasm’s creator, Zach Spier of Portland, OR, balks at the Gross Food label (“My food’s not gross!”), but he revels in the competition to create an edible spectacle. “People are making all of this stuff for the same reason someone might try to make a flashier piece of art than someone else,” says Spier. In this case, he saw a picture online of a smaller, less ambitious meat pig and thought he could make a flashier, fleshier version. “I figured, I know how to cook, and I could do a bit better and make something funnier and more revolting and more unhealthy.” So did it actually taste good? “It’s pork,” says Spier. “Of course it was good. Even my mom had seconds.”

The beauty of Gross Food is that we’re free to gawk at the works of adventurous gluttons, but we don’t have to eat them. Like competitive eating they provide a vicarious thrill, the taste of sin without the mortal danger. For that, those of us on the dietary straight and narrow give thanks (end).

So, tonight's assignment is to enjoy your favorite Ale and...

GROSS FOOD!

I'll expect a report on my desk in the morning.

Sir Bowie "off to find a brain sandwich" of Greenbriar

The Death Of Common Sense

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as: Knowing when to come in out of the rain; Why the early bird gets the worm; Life isn't always fair; and maybe it was my fault..

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an Aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason...

He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;
I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.

Cut and Pasted by,
Sir Hook the Mournful of Warrick