It's official: the dwindling
Indianapolis Star no longer keeps pace with the urinary output of my smallest cat, who has for years refused to tinkle on anything but newsprint (or bare floor if there is no newsprint in her litter box, a powerful incentive to give her what she wants).
It's a problem, as the local newspaper has traditionally been the cheapest source of newsprint. The stuff is sold in pads at art-supply stores but it costs more. I may have to subscribe to
The Wall Street Journal.
Related: an editorial this weekend from Andrea Neal, former editor of the
Star's opinion pages, expressed her admiration for Indiana's Blue Laws, specifically barring the Sunday sale of alcoholic beverages (other than by the drink at restaurants with a liquor license -- most of which have bars). "I think," she opined, "
it's a good thing that Hoosiers can't buy alcohol at supermarkets or liquor stores on Sunday. Do we really need another day to stock up on intoxicating beverages?"
...Point, missing: "stocking up" would be what Hoosiers -- Tam, for adopted instance -- do
prior to Sunday, so they can keep on enjoyin' a beer or whatever; or the poor dears must hie themselves to the nearest tavern with a kitchen and a Sunday permit. About the only thing the law does now is give folks working in liquor stores one guaranteed day off a week, just like car dealers. It's a bother for grocery stores and drugstores that sell hooch, as they have to post signs on their aisle of alk; and they're the ones pushing to do away with the Sunday ban, since it costs them nothing to sell it Sunday. (Liquor stores and those gin-and-steak joints with Sunday licenses, on the other hand, take a dim view of the change).
...But Ex-Editor Neal waves off these mere economic concerns; no, she frets about
substance abuse. (Cue dramatic organ fanfare).
'Cos drunks would never, you know, go to an eatery with an open-Sunday bar, or stock up Saturday, or swill down some cold medicine or mouthwash, or shoplift a bottle, or bum from a friend. Shucks, no! And that one sober day a week does-- Does what, exactly, assumin' they actually do go Dry? Not too much.
Never fear, we learn from Ms. Neal, "It's almost as if policymakers don't care about the social effects of drinking. A growing number seem to think it's not the state's business to tell consumers what they can do on Sunday."
One: Oh, I suspect they do care about those "social effects;" they've passed rather strict laws about operating a motor vehicle while under the influence, for instance. Why, they may even be helping to fund a few treatment centers for substance abusers with her and my tax money. (It's also just as illegal to get drunk and beat your spouse on Sunday as on any other day -- or even to spouse-beat while sober. Just like it is legal to watch
A Streetcar Named Desire as though it was a documentary, which it isn't).
Two: why
would it be the State's business to tell
consumers adults what they can do in re the legal purchase of a legal product any day of the week? Don't we have preachers, priests, imams, rabbis, shamans and gurus to offer us moral guidance on, among other topics, what we should or should not ingest and when?
...But Andrea Neal informs us -- and cites a few studies to back it up -- that "we need a day off from vice." From every vice (well, not card-playing or dancing or even outta wedlock s-e-x; but buying a car is Right Out)
except the vice of trying to control our neighbors. For their own good, of course, poor, dim savages that they are. Geez, it's not as if they were
citizens or any...thing...?
Here's a thought: if you'll trust 'em to vote and at the controls of an automobile or even (oh,
shudder) to buy a firearm on the Sabbath,* maybe it's time to stop trying to be their Mommy. It's especially time for the
State to stop being Mommy.
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* Warning, Sabbaths are sold by duration, not volume or weight; Sabbaths not distributed equally or even spelled the same; the Sabbath you were issued may or may not fall on the same day as that protected by Indiana's Blue Laws and may require and/or prohibit activities not proscribed or mandated by State law. Which seems awfully unfair of them, really.
While setting a land speed record(Produce Department subcategory), this thing caught my eye. 
Looks a bit scary, doesn't it? It's a Watermelon Radish, with a mild-horseradishy bite. How we get from the second photo to the first one goes like this:
First, a closer look at The Radish. Whoa! It's big for a radish, too, about the same size as a medium potato. Think of it as a turnip with a real bad attitude. 
Diced and added to mushrooms and potatoes, with a nice Anaheim pepper chopped up and tossed in for crunch and flavor. D'ya think Tam (presently elsewhere) would try it if we told her the radish was raw beef?
Scramble a couple of eggs in it....
Add the bacon I started the skillet with back in, plus three thin, warmed slices of salami all smashed up and some diced red bell pepper for a touch of sweetness and crunch. Warm all the added ingredients, decant onto a plate and...
Taa-daa! I snipped some chives over it and grated a little more of the watermelon radish, too, mostly for color.
