Body-text fonts, pt. 15: Golden Cockerel

A chicken loitered in neighbors’ front yards this weekend. Then it crossed the road, got into our back yard, and stayed for two days.

Karin posted a notice to an online bulletin board. “No one will claim that bird,” one of her colleagues told her. “It’s a gamecock.”

Karin called the Dept. of Animal Control. She gave our address. The van drove down our street. It didn’t stop. Karin called again. The van came back. This time, it stopped in front of our house.

I went outside. “Are you here for the chicken?” I said.

“No,” said the officer, “I just thought I’d visit.”

Crickets.

“Sorry,” she said. “Yes, I’m here for the chicken.”

We went out back and cornered the chicken. The officer caught it with a net and put it into a pet carrier. “Its wings have been clipped,” she said.

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In honor of this chicken, my typeface of the month is Golden Cockerel, digitized by ITC and originally designed by the brilliant but evil (and ubiquitous) Eric Gill. I don’t think I have any books that use Golden Cockerel for body text rather than display text. It’d have to be a “precious” book indeed. Like this one, or this one:

I take it back: Text Publishing, the Australian company, sets some unglamorous books in Golden Cockerel.

Other typefaces by Gill will be acknowledged in due course.

Zadok the priest; Pop. 1280; a recipe

Karin: “Zadok the priest
And Nathan the prophet
Were hangin’ out,
Doing some stuff.”

Some commenter on YouTube: “Can you imagine when the Queen eventually passes away, and Charles becomes King. As he walks through Westminster Abbey on the day of his coronation … 95% of the viewing public are going to be thinking to themselves, ‘Why the bloody hell are they playing the Champions League theme?!?!’”

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Per this entry: Jim Thompson’s Pop. 1280 has arrived from a library in Connecticut. So far, it’s better than The Killer Inside Me. Funnier, at least.

I’d been thinking it was about time to do some political campaignin’, since I had a pretty tough opponent coming up for a change. … [¶] Always before, I’d let the word get around that I was against this and that, things like cockfighting and gambling and whiskey and so on. So my opposition would figure they’d better come out against ’em, too, only twice as strong as I did. And I went right ahead and let ’em. Me, almost anyone can make a better speech than I can, and anyone can come out stronger against or for something. Because, me, I’ve got no very strong convictions about anything. Not anymore I haven’t.
[Ch. 9, ¶¶ 1–2]

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Today’s lunch:

Ingredients for the rice cooker:

• Butter (1 tablespoon)
• Brown rice, dry (1/3 cup)
• Water A (2/3 cup)
• Red lentils, dry (1/2 cup)
• Water B (1 cup)
• Russet potatoes, raw, cut into 1/2-in cubes (5 oz)
• Jalapeño peppers, raw, chopped (2 oz)
• Yellow onions, raw, chopped (3 oz)
• Broccoli, raw, chopped (5 oz)
• Sazón Goya (1 packet)
• Water C (1/2 cup)

Other ingredients:

• Tortillas
• Sour cream
• Cheese, shredded
• Etc.

The steps are what you’d expect.

There are approx. 835 kcals in the pot; the amounts and kinds of tortillas, sour cream, cheese, etc. are up to you. The filling, once cooked, is pasty, like refried beans. It’s lumpy where the potatoes are, and just a little crunchy because the rice retains some hardness (don’t worry, it’s edible). To make the rice come out softer, if that is your desire, use more water, although that’ll make everything softer. Or, I dunno, use less rice.

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Scott was baptized in a small church in Michigan; afterward, there was special music by one of the congregants. “The guy told us he’d recorded four CDs,” said Jennifer, Karin’s stepsister. “I wasn’t expecting him to sing them all.”

An aborted journey; we finish Midsomer murders; body-text fonts, pt. 7: Janson Text

My parents set out yesterday for a tour of Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, one or both Dakotas, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and I forget where else. How I envied them! They got as far as Illinois, and then my mother tested positive for COVID.

So, now, they’re back.

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This month’s typeface is Janson Text.

(A crooked but stimulating observation.)

Some say this typeface is the best of the Jansons. I wish it had a longer-tailed Q, as Monotype Janson has.

Also, everything depends on what you count as a Janson. Is Ehrhardt a Janson? Now, there’s a question.

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It took five years, but Karin & I finished viewing all of Midsomer Murders. Twenty-two seasons; 132 episodes of 90–100 minutes.

My overall assessment:

Grainier picture → better episode.

More French horn → better episode.

More scenes with Joyce Barnaby and Cully Barnaby → better episode.

Teleplay by Anthony Horowitz → better episode.

In other words: the earlier, the better (as a rule).

As it happens, we concluded the project with an early episode: S2E3, “Dead Man’s Eleven,” about the cricket. When we first tried it – four years ago? – I couldn’t stay awake, due to my sleep apnea.

I don’t know if more episodes will be released.

Whatever will we do when we run out of Midsomer Murders?, I used to lament.

Karin suggested: Watch them again.

I think we shall.

Queen & corgi

Tumblr: not my usual corner of the Internet. People there are not good.

That bit about the corgis being put to death is like a sick instance of the “telephone” game. The original quote that Tumblr garbles is reprinted here, in Newsweek.

(I do like the Tumblr post about Les Mis. and Hamilton.)

Another quote from the Newsweek article. “Strip away the wealth, the privilege and the palaces, and the bond [Elizabeth] has with her dogs is no different from the bond the rest of us have [with] ours, no matter our station in life,” a Queen-&-corgi expert says.

True, and worth thinking about. And not as exonerating as one would wish. Some serious baddies loved (or “loved”) their dogs.

Still, I have no reason to think that the Queen didn’t love hers in the most humane and relatable way. R.I.P.

After the Queen died, I went down a better-documented but no less morbid tunnel of Internet research. The reigns of James VI/I and Charles I were worth mining. The most notable discovery was the life-story of Frances Carr, Countess of Somerset (1590–1632). The Countess avoided being executed while (“whilst”) four other people were hanged for her crime.

New Year’s Eve

It’s the last week of the winter holiday. I’m sick. Worse, my thoughts have been woeful. But thanks to Karin, it hasn’t been a woeful year.

I’m grateful, also, to the Ecuadorian soccer players for winning all four of their World Cup qualifiers. Here are their goals, set to stirring music.

More of the same music.

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My “best of 2015” prizes:

Best Movie. This year I saw only three new movies: Minions, Ex Machina, and Paddington. Each was good in its way. But the award goes to Minions. The Best Supporting Actress prize goes to Queen Elizabeth II, of Minions.

Best Song. I haven’t listened to very many new songs (let alone albums). But clearly the best song of the year was “Hotline Bling.”

Best Music Video. “Hotline Bling” – there were many excellent videos of this track, but this one was the best.

Best Philosophy Book. Tom Hurka’s British Ethical Theorists from Sidgwick to Ewing. Fascinating. Breathtaking. One hundred years of insular reasoning, distilled with Hurka-l-ean effort.

Best Fiction Book. I’ve not read anything from this year. I started reading Slade House, but what with my illness, I couldn’t hold myself up against the blast of David Mitchell’s authorial voice. Maybe when I feel better.

Ana & David never came up from Houston; Edoarda & Stephen are in Nicaragua; Martin & Mary are going to a New Year’s Eve party. I await my Sweetie for a peaceful evening on the couch.