Large Fierce Mammal

The Mawhfawker himself. (Cardinell Photo)

Photographer and blogger Sean “Mawhfawkin'” Cardinell is a great find, presently living and drinking only bottled beer in our neck of the woods. Like all good men, he’s rough hewn and cocky, and that only works if you’ve got the talent to back it up. He’s not even 20 yet so he’s crafting himself as he goes along, but don’t worry. The LFM’s have their collective eye on him and won’t mind administering SOUND CORRECTIONS if he strays off the path.

Whether or not you personally get it from his web presence is between you and Sean. For our own part, Mrs. LFM and I will diagnose that his wit is much to our liking, and discloses an irreverent intellect of the kind the world needs in spades.

Rarely does one get to introduce a talent from the ground floor, but today I have that opportunity. Mr. Cardinell’s body of photographic work shows a keen eye that we’ll all be looking through in the future. You can get some Mawhfawker on ya by experiencing his web presence  here. As usual with anything we like hereabouts, you can find Sean on my Links page under “Recommended!”. Go do it, and give that Mawhfawkah some LOVE!

Last word. The day will come when the photographer walks onto the shoot and everybody says …

(Cardinell Photo)

Recently Mrs. LFM and I rewatched the 1993 version of The Three Musketeers. While we love the story, the fact that, even this year, Hollywood is making yet another version has been causing me to finger the keen edge of my own blade with corrective measures in mind. A sporadic, though not uncommon, event. Ah well, one cannot be held responsible for the things that fling themselves through one’s consciousness whilst in the throes of wool gathering.

Nevertheless, the primary musical theme associated with the aforesaid 1993 production has always spoken to me. A fact made all the more surprising by the fact that movie themes often have a propensity to be contrived pieces of shit. As a lover, a fighter for the right. A lover and protector of animals – DOGS in particular – the sentiments expressed in this song, to my mind, make it an anthem.

So, in honour of  my  esteemed Mate, our Pack, and for the edification of our friends and readers who share our code of Honour, Justice, and Defense of the Right, here’s Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart, and Sting singing that there song what I spoke of. As you listen, look at or think of another living creature that you owe this sort of dedication to, and that has every reason to expect it.

As you all know, yesterday was spent in Kejimkujik National Park. The expedition included Mrs. LFM, me, Robbie our Australian Paddle Dog, and Peter “Bear Bait” Thomson in his capacity as photographer (voyageur AND voyeur), drinking companion, and source of endless amusement in spite of himself. His shovelling … I mean paddling … style has to be seen to be appreciated.

Today’s article is more of a pictorial essay documenting the voyage, so here we go. Each picture is sized to fit here so, if you see a picture you particularly like, clicking on it will most likely improve the wow factor.

Saddling up at Jake's Landing. Who knew there were so many Canadians? (Thompson photo)

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Canadian super hero Mister Canoehead never even takes Canada Day off because evil doesn’t recognize statutory holdays, which makes it even more evil, and evil likes that! See more on Mr. CH {link:http://www.internationalhero.co.uk/c/canohead.htm}here{/link}.

I have no small number of non-Canadian friends and I never tire of educating them about customs in my country. Tomorrow is Canada Day and I will be far too busy doing that most Canadian of things – canoeing with my Mate – to write anything here, so on this Canada Day Eve I am setting forth to dispense some wondrous Canuckness for your reading and listening pleasure!

Amazing Canadian Fact #1: The Maritime Sobriety Test!

This is not yet a Canada wide practice (although it is undergoing testing in British Columbia) but it does apply to people driving the roads of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland. If you are stopped by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and your sobriety is called into question, you have the option to remove all doubt by singing this ditty all the way through without making a mistake. Fiddle accompaniment is not required but it never hurts. (more…)

The source of this wisdom is {link:http://www.h34dup.com/artwork/typcut-are-you-happy/}here{/link}.

My father was the oldest of seven children, and he, along with every one of his siblings, suffered from heart disease and high blood pressure. My father was diagnosed with angina when he was 40, and by the time he was 55  ended up with a triple bypass that saved his life and at last permanently changed the heavy smoking lifestyle of both of my parents after many years of unsuccessful fits and starts. His youngest brother had his first major heart attack before he was 30, and went on to be one of three in the family to die directly of a heart attack.

My mother’s side of the family was free of such spectres, but cognizant of the risk I faced as a genetic amalgam of both parents, and beginning with my first flight physical at the ripe old age of 16, I have paid attention to my cardiovascular health. As it turns out, in most ways ranging from height and physical appearance, stamina, cardiovascular health, libido, and even personal interests, my genetic makeup completely embraces the maternal side. (more…)

Illustration from Fastolf Mater’s Book of Hours (c. 1250) – Source http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/MEDscythe.htm

“A goodly man the mower is,
With sinews tough as twisted rods,
A form of manly grace is his,
A head as trenchant as a god’s

“A man of thought; the harvest o’er,
Its heats and triumphs left behind,
He rests, and gives himself once more
To pleasures of the heart and mind.”

~ from Scythe and Sword by Obediah Cyrus Auringer ~

Living as we do on the edge of a mixed forest of Pine and Birch, what Mrs. LFM and I charitably refer to as a “lawn” lies shaded beneath the canopy of  lofty old Maple trees and consists of a coarse assemblage of plant life that is predominantly NOT grass. Everything grows at different rates, some things grow out instead of up, but we love it because, best of all, it’s tough enough to withstand the wear and tear inflicted by the Household Light Cavalry, otherwise known as our pack of Dogs.

To get to my point, all this jungle greenery still needs to be kept in check so our enemies have fewer options by way of hiding places, and the last few years of power mowing have only served to highlight that a better option needed to be found. Particularly so to be in keeping with our step by step process of getting away from complex technologies that don’t represent an improvement over older and simpler solutions. A herd of Goats really isn’t a viable path right now, but scything is, and so last week, after much research, I employed that ancient tool for the very first time in my life, and also for the first time actually had fun mowing a lawn. (more…)

I told her a ribald joke
And I still remember
The thud of her upper denture
Against the toe of my boot.
She peed herself
As I passed her teeth back to her
On bended knee.

This morning with our coffee, Mrs. LFM and I snuggled in bed and finished watching the last half of the season finale of the excellent police drama series Blue Bloods. At the end, Tom Selleck, in the character of New York City Police Commissioner Frank Reagan, recites a quote from Raymond Chandler at the graveside of his son. That quote was much to my liking and, looking it up, I found that the rest of it was equally good. I’ll save you the trouble and share it with you here.

While these words define Chandler’s conception of the ultimate crime novel protagonist as embodied by his famous detective character Phillip Marlowe, they most particularly define the doer of heroic deeds as envisioned by one of the greats in the field of detective fiction.

This edited extract is from an essay that first appeared in The Atlantic Monthly in November 1945, and that was later incorporated into a collection of essays and short stories under the title, The Simple Art of Murder published in 1950. In this world where so many find little to inspire them, you could do far worse than to take inspiration from this:

“Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean; who is neither tarnished nor afraid. (He) must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man…. He talks as the man of his age talks; that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.”

“… He is the hero, he is everything. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honour; by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world.

“… he is neither a eunuch nor a satyr; I think he might seduce a duchess and I am quite sure he would not spoil a virgin; if he is a man of honour in one thing, he is that in all things….

“He will take no man’s money dishonestly and no man’s insolence without a due and dispassionate revenge. … his pride is that you will treat him as a proud man or be very sorry you ever saw him.

“The story is this man’s adventure in search of a hidden truth, and it would be no adventure if it did not happen to a man fit for adventure. If there were enough like him, the world would be a very safe place to live in, without becoming too dull to be worth living in.”

“If your anger goes forth, withhold your sword; If your sword goes forth, withhold your anger.”
~ Swordsman’s axiom ~

“Better to do a little well, than a great deal badly.”
~ Socrates ~

In my studies of the Blade Arts I once encountered a Swordsman of the old school. A fencer of international status, he was, at the time I refer to, a man in his late 80’s; thin, straight, supple, and keen of eye, his age notwithstanding.

He observed a class of what today are called “high performance” fencers while they practiced the art of the épée as they knew it, one against the other, and after much exhortation, humbly deigned to cross blades with a few of the best and brightest among them. (more…)

Grilled pork tenderloin, Large Fierce Mammal style.

My mother used to do an oven baked version of  “barbecued spare ribs” with a sauce I fell in love with. Introducing it to Mrs. LFM was one of the reasons she fell in love with me, and over the years we’ve  perfected it to where it’s now our signature barbecue sauce whenever pork meets the grill. Here’s the recipe. (more…)