Evergreen column
Indignity Vol. 6, No. 69
COLUMN DEP’T.
MR WRONG: Sit Back and Let the Pine Trees Fill Your Mind
THE MR WRONG column is on vacation! Arroooo! However, since the modus operandi of the Mr. Wrong column is to Always Be Columning, there will be no interruption in the creation of a steaming-fresh new adventure in columnery, not to mention delivery of said brain-product to you, the Gentle Reader! Also though, to the people who click “open” on the email from Indignity and see that it is a Mr. Wrong column and then go live their life, they get a new Mr. Wrong column, too, even if they don't choose to enjoy it. That’s OK! This is still a version of America, albeit with an ever dwindling supply of Freedoms of Choice, and that is one choice you still have left! Even if I was in charge! Which, quite frankly in this Economy, I think I would do okay in respect to running this enterprise, oof! Yow!
Anyway, I am on Vacation, and that’s all of the Political Punditry horseshittery you will find in this week’s column, huzzah! I invite you to take a little Vacation with the Mr. Wrong column, wherever you are, and as long as you are not operating heavy machinery or signing legal documents, right now, in the very molecules of your Brain’s mind! Relax! We are surrounded by big-ass pine trees! Breathe in the air itself, infused with salubrious pine tree vapors nimbly and sweetly recommending itself unto your gentle senses! Ahh!
We’re going to walk down and plop in a chair on the deck to regard the lake and some tree-covered hills that might be mountains. I am not sure, they are pretty tall, but they might not be Mountainous. This is a thing you can ponder, while you are relaxing your brain cells into a heaping helping of serenity now playing in the mountains and hills of the Adirondacks, which are located in Upstate New York State in the United States of America, just saying.
The mountains or hills or whatever the fuck they are do not care about any of the wacky lines people draw on maps to say what goes where, though, the mountains—and even the hills that might possibly be mountains—just are like, “We are here, doing our mountain thing, and in some cases whatever hills do, which is probably the same, only not as Mountainous, you know? Anyway, we are some fucking mountains and also our friends the hills. Be like us and be yourself.”
So you can sit here for hours looking into the distance! The hills, the mountains, plus—and this is where the real action is—the lakeful of water right in between us, here on one side of the lake, enjoying the majesty of Nature! There are all kinds of animals I have seen this week here in the Adirondacks Park, which is the official name, try telling that shit to a mountain—and just today before I got off my keister to type my column I saw a chipmunk, a hummingbird, a monarch butterfly, a buncha ducks flapping along real low over the water or paddling around in the wetness of lake itself, and also a coupla loons I saw, doing deep dives in the lake, staying down for a long time and then popping up in another spot, and they have this giant staring eye (they have two eyes generally but you can only see one at a time on one side of their head most of the time), and that loon-eye looks like it is staring right into your mind’s eye, but it isn’t, it is just the loons being loons.
Other times on this Vacation I have seen wildlife such as an eagle and a skunk. The eagle was flying around and it was so fucking big I thought it was an airplane or a glider, it was just up there, spread-eagled if you will, zooming through the sky, but no wing movement, just cutting through the blue sky like an airplane, really weird and wondrous, the Great Outdoors! The skunk, we saw at night when we were out walking around and we backed way off, respect, you do not want to alarm a skunk, that is the not-so-Great outdoors, feh!
I have not delved into my food and beverage experiences, but basically we are not exactly roughing it here in the Adirondacks, we have a cabin with all mod cons right here next to the lake. We even have Mr. Coffee, a distant cousin of the Mr. Wrong column. A nice big cuppa coffee and a view through the pines to the shimmering waters of Schroon Lake is a deeply profound and delightful way to start the day, and to start thinking about an activity, such as sitting on the deck near the water staring at the sky, or if it’s raining, sitting in the screened-in porch and observing the invigorating and soothing rain misting across the lake or cascading down through the tree-leaves, very relaxing! Last night we made a campfire, and there was a whole entire Moon up in the sky to stare at when we weren’t staring into the fire, what a night. Also: stars in the dark sky, total bonus.
Today I sat on the deck and looked at the lake, and let all my thoughts sort of roll past in front of me, like the teensy little waves kicked up by today’s mild breeze, just bobblin’ along on their way to who knows where—and who cares—until I really just kinda temporarily wasn’t thinking about anything! Nothing! Not even lunch! Or a late breakfast! Just the sky and the water and the clouds and stuff, over the aforementioned mountain or hill formations of the Earth itself. It’s great, I am telling you, go check out a spot where you can just stare at a large body of water, wowee.
I don’t just sit around all day, I mean, I could, and it would be a spectacular Vacation, but I also enjoy movement such as talking a stroll under the trees, or paddling around the lake, in my case, aboard my inflatable kayak, which is a DRIFTSUN VOYAGER model, very seaworthy, lakeworthy, even, and as always we must disclaimer that the Mr. Wrong column—even when it is on Vacation—does not get any money from anybody to advocate what kind of inflatable kayak anyone should climb into, but if you want to give us some money for a product recommendation, we’re in a really good mood right now on account we are on Vacation.
What a Vacation! Mine is still in progress, and I hope you were able to enjoy-participate in this single-column version, and I hope you get to have a Vacation soon. If you do it correctly, and lean back, a Vacation is supposed to provide Freedom from Concern. We still have that one! Freedom! Arrooo!
Here is some wind and lake sounds going through some trees!
The MR. WRONG COLUMN is a general-interest column appearing weekly. No refunds. Write Wrong: wrongcolumn@gmail.com.
WEATHER REVIEWS
New York City, August 23, 2026
★★★★ The rain gushed down through the sunrise hour, drenching the newspaper on the stoop, but the walk out to go get breakfast came under clear blue, in dazzling light, even as the subway steps were still slippery and squeaky underfoot. The landing on the stairs up out of the L at First Avenue was still completely awash and impossible to traverse, forcing a quick hopping hairpin turn up the nearer stairway. A woman turned east onto 14th Street carrying a beach chair with the tags still attached. The afternoon sun was as warm as it could be without being hot, and moving across the sky fast enough to be precious and urgent. A trim little Mercedes of a certain age sat in the parking lane on Amsterdam, top down, left to bask in the beneficence of the day.
New York City, August 24, 2026
★★★★★ The sudden rattling off the balcony rail in the bright late morning revealed itself to be a cascade of raindrops streaking down through the uninterrupted sunlight. That concluded, the day resumed its perfect agreeability. Immense, brilliant cumulus drifted along at a rate that looked fast against the buildings and near immobile in the open sky. A tiny bit of color had crept into the ginkgo leaves, dangling like strings of money. A Parks cart with bagged trash in its flatbed rolled along the sidewalk, pumping music. Up on the hilltop a long folding table was laid out for beer pong. Sounds and smells came and went, moving lightly on the dry air. A white broadcloth shirt, put on for professional reasons, stayed crisp and unwilted, the ideal shirt for being out in the day. A squirrel advanced in a series of jumps and rushes, stiff as a taxidermied museum squirrel in the pauses between the moves, then leaped head-on to the bridge railing, only to reverse its way as a dog came trotting over the bridge. The descending sun got just far enough into the end of the block to set the purple-pink and slightly over-bloomed flowers of the crape myrtle alight.
New York City, August 25, 2026
★★★★★ The air had been, if anything, refined beyond its prior and seemingly utter clarity. A notebook page flared in the hand, bright as a distant cloud top. Items flattened on or sunk into the pavement insisted on their places and their particularity: withered pigeon wings, a bottlecap, plastic utility tags. Around noon the clouds went gray and covered the zenith, like a parasol held up to stop any midday heat from building, and then removed themselves for the afternoon. People sat out on stoops and stretched out on benches. Blooming boneset had shot up past six feet high and an assortment of bees and their relations were clambering all over the flowers. The breeze raised a quiet but comprehensive rustling from the trees.
New York City, August 26, 2026
★★★★★ A little seahorse of fractus cloud reared up, drifting on the blue. Again, the air was pristine-looking, as smoothly cool as a fresh-laundered sheet. The sounds of work calls and power equipment alike carried in the open. Notebooks and papers accumulated around the potted plants on the iron table. Being out on the balcony was the minimum; the balcony was not enough. What if all the days were like this? Down at Bryant Park a worker lined up shuffleboard discs at their starting point and then swept a few dry leaves off the court. More shuffleboard players came along, and a few more falling leaves. Nearly every table was full and the lawn as well, and people flowed in and out unceasingly to keep them that way. Had there ever been a better day for sitting out in a park? Nothing could have been improved. It was possible to imagine what it would be like if the breeze were too cool for shorts, or the sun were too hot for sitting in, but only as theories about some different, lesser realm of existence.
SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.
WE PRESENT INSTRUCTIONS for the assembly of sandwiches selected from Household Discoveries and Mrs. Curtis's Cookbook: An Encyclopaedia of Practical Recipes and Processes, by Sidney Morse, published by Success Company's Branch Offices in 1908 and now available at archive.org for the delectation of all.
Rare-Beef Sandwiches.
Chop rare cold roast beef fine. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, a dash of horse-radish, and a few drops of McIlhenny’s Tabasco Sauce. Make into sandwiches with thinly sliced Graham bread.
Club Sandwich.
Toast a slice of bread and butter it, On one half put, first, a thin slice of bacon which has been broiled till dry and tender, next a slice of the white meat of either turkey or chicken. Over one half of this place a circle cut from a ripe tomato and over the other half a tender leaf of lettuce, Cover with a generous layer of mayonnaise, and complete this delicious “wholemeal” sandwich with the remaining piece of toast—A. W.
Lobster Sandwiches.
Blend with the chopped lobster meat a dash of McIlhenny’s Tabasco Sauce, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and oil. Spread the mixture between slices of thinly buttered bread.
Crab Sandwich.
1 hard-boiled egg,
1 tablespoonful softened butter,
4 can deviled crab,
1 tablespoonful lemon juice.
Moisten the sifted yolk of egg with butter, add chopped crab, and lemon juice mixed to a paste, Spread it between thin slices of buttered bread, put two together, press with a bread knife, and cut into fingers, triangles, or small squares.
If you are inspired to prepare a sandwich inspired by our continued offerings, be sure to send along a description of your experience and maybe a few photos to us here: indignity@indignity.net.
EASY LISTENING DEP'T.
Here is the Indignity Morning Podcast archive!
TOM SCOCCA
S_BST_CK IS BAD AND BAD FOR YOU DEP'T.
