If Music Could Talk

Just had a flash of a dream I had last night. For some reason, I was back doing a BA, majoring in poli-sci. Oddly enough, Flex was a classmate and he encouraged me to blow off class, which was taught by my old boss and current co-sessional instructor in history. As is standard with dreams involving school, because I'd hardly gone to class, I just realized that this poli-sci class had both a term paper and mid-term exam the next day. Fucking Flex. And who schedules an exam and essay on the same day?

Dr. Medulla wrote:Just had a flash of a dream I had last night. For some reason, I was back doing a BA, majoring in poli-sci. Oddly enough, Flex was a classmate and he encouraged me to blow off class, which was taught by my old boss and current co-sessional instructor in history. As is standard with dreams involving school, because I'd hardly gone to class, I just realized that this poli-sci class had both a term paper and mid-term exam the next day. Fucking Flex. And who schedules an exam and essay on the same day?

I'm a good influence!

Flex wrote:

Dr. Medulla wrote:Just had a flash of a dream I had last night. For some reason, I was back doing a BA, majoring in poli-sci. Oddly enough, Flex was a classmate and he encouraged me to blow off class, which was taught by my old boss and current co-sessional instructor in history. As is standard with dreams involving school, because I'd hardly gone to class, I just realized that this poli-sci class had both a term paper and mid-term exam the next day. Fucking Flex. And who schedules an exam and essay on the same day?

I'm a good influence!

Only if you know someone from whom I can buy a term paper toot sweet.

I'm up quite early this morning because of a rather intense dream I had. Once I woke from it, I was completely awake and knew I wasn't getting back to sleep. I was in either a Maritimes or New England town. Cold, sea air, grey sky. I was staying at an old inn and was served by the host what he called pedophile wine. Which was, duh, a weird name. I asked and he said it was made from pedophile grapes, which were named because centuries ago on that spot a man and woman molested and murdered dozens of children. The grapes were cultivated on that land and turned into wine to remember and honour those kids. Everyone in the community was obliged to make and drink the wine as a kind of historical penance. During my stay, tho, it became obvious that the inn was haunted and that I was being picked to help set the spirits free. When I woke up, I had became aware that the ghosts might not be the kids but their abusers/killers. The whole thing had an especially cinematic quality to it, a lot like The Changeling, with me able to see the past as the innkeeper told me about the abused kids.

Dr. Medulla wrote:I'm up quite early this morning because of a rather intense dream I had. Once I woke from it, I was completely awake and knew I wasn't getting back to sleep. I was in either a Maritimes or New England town. Cold, sea air, grey sky. I was staying at an old inn and was served by the host what he called pedophile wine. Which was, duh, a weird name. I asked and he said it was made from pedophile grapes, which were named because centuries ago on that spot a man and woman molested and murdered dozens of children. The grapes were cultivated on that land and turned into wine to remember and honour those kids. Everyone in the community was obliged to make and drink the wine as a kind of historical penance. During my stay, tho, it became obvious that the inn was haunted and that I was being picked to help set the spirits free. When I woke up, I had became aware that the ghosts might not be the kids but their abusers/killers. The whole thing had an especially cinematic quality to it, a lot like The Changeling, with me able to see the past as the innkeeper told me about the abused kids.

That would make a great movie, provided it's not found footage.

Dr. Medulla wrote:I'm up quite early this morning because of a rather intense dream I had. Once I woke from it, I was completely awake and knew I wasn't getting back to sleep. I was in either a Maritimes or New England town. Cold, sea air, grey sky. I was staying at an old inn and was served by the host what he called pedophile wine. Which was, duh, a weird name. I asked and he said it was made from pedophile grapes, which were named because centuries ago on that spot a man and woman molested and murdered dozens of children. The grapes were cultivated on that land and turned into wine to remember and honour those kids. Everyone in the community was obliged to make and drink the wine as a kind of historical penance. During my stay, tho, it became obvious that the inn was haunted and that I was being picked to help set the spirits free. When I woke up, I had became aware that the ghosts might not be the kids but their abusers/killers. The whole thing had an especially cinematic quality to it, a lot like The Changeling, with me able to see the past as the innkeeper told me about the abused kids.

Shit! Doc why don't you any normal dreams?

You know like the one where Tep and I go drinking together but the night ends early because Tep is caught in the ladies toilets with a gorilla with huge breasts. You know normal stuff.

I'd just as soon not have this dream recur. The unsettling content was maximized by how damned clear it was. As I said, it was cinematic in how it developed and played.

Dr. Medulla wrote:I'd just as soon not have this dream recur. The unsettling content was maximized by how damned clear it was. As I said, it was cinematic in how it developed and played.

I will dream never to get inside Medulla's head.

Marky Dread wrote:I will dream never to get inside Medulla's head.

It's just gophers reading Captain America comics. It gets bored quick.

Dr. Medulla wrote:

Marky Dread wrote:I will dream never to get inside Medulla's head.

It's just gophers reading Captain America comics. It gets bored quick.

I had a dream last night that I had lunch with Scalia. He asked me to grab a bite and I said that I don't eat with racists. He said that we can't be so absolutist and sweeping with our lives, so I went and, in fact, he was quite charming and engaging. I have no fucking clue what my subconscious wants of me now. :(

Dr. Medulla wrote:I had a dream last night that I had lunch with Scalia. He asked me to grab a bite and I said that I don't eat with racists. He said that we can't be so absolutist and sweeping with our lives, so I went and, in fact, he was quite charming and engaging. I have no fucking clue what my subconscious wants of me now. :(

Did he eat fifty fuckin' oysters then order a full meal?

In 2008, I was invited to judge a wine-and-oyster pairing competition at the Old Ebbitt Grill. It was a great deal: Rank 20 glasses of whites in order of your liking alongside all the Olympia oysters you can eat. Food writers and oenophiles I expected to see there. But Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia?

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Scalia was a man of many appetites. He was also built like a tank. Two chairs down from me, I could see the justice thoughtfully swishing around his glasses, gesturing to the waiter to bring over another iced tray of Olympias. In the end, I downed 43 oysters. Scalia had more. It was a sight to behold.

Afterwards, the judges were invited upstairs to a reception. At the bar, I caught up with Scalia who confessed he preferred beer with oysters (and ordered a beer at the bar). He also said the white varietals all too often reminded him of apples. At some point, he and I and three other judges sat at a table. Scalia then proceeded to order dinner from the menu even though we were still recovering from the competition. But he shot the rest of us a stare that got us to all order dinner. How could we not?

http://www.weeklystandard.com/a-man-of- ... le/2001084

eumaas wrote:

Dr. Medulla wrote:I had a dream last night that I had lunch with Scalia. He asked me to grab a bite and I said that I don't eat with racists. He said that we can't be so absolutist and sweeping with our lives, so I went and, in fact, he was quite charming and engaging. I have no fucking clue what my subconscious wants of me now. :(

Did he eat fifty fuckin' oysters then order a full meal?

In 2008, I was invited to judge a wine-and-oyster pairing competition at the Old Ebbitt Grill. It was a great deal: Rank 20 glasses of whites in order of your liking alongside all the Olympia oysters you can eat. Food writers and oenophiles I expected to see there. But Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia?

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Scalia was a man of many appetites. He was also built like a tank. Two chairs down from me, I could see the justice thoughtfully swishing around his glasses, gesturing to the waiter to bring over another iced tray of Olympias. In the end, I downed 43 oysters. Scalia had more. It was a sight to behold.

Afterwards, the judges were invited upstairs to a reception. At the bar, I caught up with Scalia who confessed he preferred beer with oysters (and ordered a beer at the bar). He also said the white varietals all too often reminded him of apples. At some point, he and I and three other judges sat at a table. Scalia then proceeded to order dinner from the menu even though we were still recovering from the competition. But he shot the rest of us a stare that got us to all order dinner. How could we not?

http://www.weeklystandard.com/a-man-of- ... le/2001084

We ate modestly at a sandwich shop. Even tho it was a dream, I can't shake the discomfort and mild shame by how much I enjoyed his company.

I keep having this dream:

Dr. Medulla wrote:I had a dream last night that I had lunch with Scalia. He asked me to grab a bite and I said that I don't eat with racists. He said that we can't be so absolutist and sweeping with our lives, so I went and, in fact, he was quite charming and engaging. I have no fucking clue what my subconscious wants of me now. :(

So my uncle got a scholarship to Xavier and went to school with this guy and apparently knew him to some extent. I didn't find this out until late in his life so I wasn't able to ask him about the guy.

My mom met him and although very short (my moms words) thought he was a decent guy back in those days. I doubt there were any serious political or philosophical discussions though. My mom's side of the family was very pro labor and were all union members.

The funny thing is when he died she still wouldn't say anything too bad about him even though he was an obvious monster.