The Year Gone By

rehobo postcardIt is nice to be back in familiar pastures. Your servant has returned for a holiday at the beach, and we find ourselves at the wifi hotspot where this little weblog began.

In its first year of publication, Preacher and Big Daddy has seen its ups and downs. When it comes to readership, we have taken this motto from Seneca: “A few is enough for me. So is one. So is none.”

lib.GROUCHO FILES.B1047That said, we enjoy a few hundred visitors each day. It may be true, dear reader, that you would never join a club that would accept you as a member. Nonetheless, the P&BD society is a happy, medium-sized group.

In honor of our first anniversary, the editorial staff has decided to open up the Bests page to comments, especially nominations for Best Post of the Year and Stupidest Post of the Year. Do not hold back!

…This Shakespearian Bests is retired:


Best Ingredients for a Witches’ Brew (Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 1):

Round about the caldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.–
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot!

Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing,–
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witch’s mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse,
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips,
Finger of birth-strangl’d babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,–
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingredients of our caldron.

Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.

Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

Pour in sow’s blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow; grease that’s sweaten
From the murderer’s gibbet throw
Into the flame.

(Nota Bene: Yikes! God save us all!)

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