Sunday Bulletin Board: Do you use Velveeta in your mac-and-cheese? Liquid Gold, it is!

Exactly what she had in mind!

RAMBLIN’ ROSE reports: “Subject: The Velveeta Vindication.

“I am vindicated! No longer will I have to suffer the exchange of sly glances, raised eyebrows, or comments of ‘Interesting’ or ‘That’s different,’ the height of Minnesotan passive-aggressive non-statements. No, I can hold my head high as I report that Velveeta has been confirmed as the main ingredient of choice for mac-and-cheese.

“Who confirmed this? None other than Justin Sutherland — celebrity chef, cookbook author, and owner of the Handsome Hog restaurant. His recipe for the Mac ’n’ Cheese served at his restaurant features Velveeta; no cheddar or gruyere in sight. He even makes it the same way I learned growing up, with a roux, milk, Velveeta, and seasonings, turning out a creamy sauce to pour over cooked pasta. No baking required. He does add sour cream and cottage cheese, but that’s a bit rich for me. We dress ours up with caramelized sweet onions, mushrooms, and ham.

“I know you will say that Velveeta is not cheese, and I would give you that. But it does not claim to be; it labels itself Liquid Gold, and I agree. Snicker all you want. Heat most cheeses, and they break down into unappealing clumps and drips, while Velveeta becomes smooth and creamy. Liquid Gold, indeed! It also makes a great grilled-cheese sandwich. (Don’t forget the onion.)

“So, fellow devotees, the next time someone gives a slight sneer at the mention of Velveeta, you can send them to the Handsome Hog to see what real Mac ’n’ Cheese is all about.

“I know what we’re having for dinner tonight.

“P.S.: Please keep Justin in your thoughts as he continues his recovery from severe injuries sustained in a freakish boating accident on the St. Croix this past summer. He is a good guy. His family has set up a GoFundMe to help with his medical bills.”

Vanity, thy name is . . . Or: The self-incriminators?

WALT of Wayzata: “Seen on Facebook.”

BULLETIN BOARD SAYS: This is one of those blissful occasions when an “error” is funny no matter whether the “error” was or was not an error!

Hmmmmmmmm . . . Leading to: Ask a silly question . . .

Writes HELENA HANDBASKET: “Subject: Unhelpful hint?

“A recipe in today’s La Crosse Trombone says in order to take the bitterness out of escarole, you tear it into pieces and rinse them, shaking and aggravating the leaves in the process.

“Wouldn’t that just make them more bitter?”

Clothes encounters of the condo kind … Wisconsin Riviera Division

THE DORYMAN of Prescott, Wisconsin: “Subject: Pardon my shabby jacket; it’s just out of context.

“Now that colder weather is here, I have been wearing my 20-year-old, ratty, brown-leather bomber jacket to my woodworking shop. The scuffs and scars guarantee it’s beyond ever hanging in any thrift store. It’s the only coat I’ve ever had the zipper replaced on, and the pocket bottoms exit directly to the lining. It is not afraid of stains, varnish or glue, and sawdust doesn’t stick to it for the ride home.

“It is a little awkward when getting on the condo elevator with my neighbors, but I have an answer for that. I just tell them: If Brad Pitt were wearing this as a guest on the ‘Tonight Show,’ you’d think he was just about the coolest guy you’ve ever seen.”

The Permanent Family Record

GRANDMA PAT, “formerly of rural Roberts, Wisconsin”: “Procrastination is not a great habit to have at any age — but when one is 92, it’s a terrible idea. Even so, I am still guilty.

“I have been trying to write down some of my late husband’s stories from his childhood in pre-World War II Italy.

“In the mountain village of Pretare, he lived his first 12 years. Many of the men from the village were in the United States working and sending back money for their families. The women and children were on their own.

“Life was simpler then, but also difficult. Food was adequate, but not plentiful. Wild mushrooms and chestnuts were gathered from the forests. Bread and pasta were made locally. Each family raised one pig a year and used every possible part of it. Salami was made, and the long sausages were wound around a pole and hung from the ceiling in an unheated room. Ricotta was made from sheep’s milk. Corn (granturco) was used to make polenta and polendo. Polenta was used by families, and polendo was made over a fire in the forest by the men who were making charcoal. It was thicker and denser than polenta.

“There was a belief that a pregnant woman must be offered any food she saw — and that if this was not done, the baby would forever bear a birthmark in the color and shape of the food not offered. And the story of who had failed to offer the food would never be forgotten. This belief assured that any pregnant woman would have better nutrition than she might otherwise have had.

“So many stories!”

The verbing of America

From BOB WOOLLEY: “Yesterday I was visiting a friend in the locked area of a mental-health facility. Exiting requires a staff person to swipe his or her ID badge over a sensor to unlock the door. When I told a nurse that I was ready to leave, she said: ‘OK, I’ll badge you out.’”

BULLETIN BOARD MUSES: Badge-out? Badge-out?! We don’t want no badge-out! You don’t need no badge-out! You don’t have to do us any stinking badge-out!

There’s nothin’ like a simile!

THE RETIRED PEDAGOGUE of Arden Hills: “Steve Rushin’s article in a recent issue of Sports Illustrated focuses on the children of major-league baseball players.

“In this excerpt, Rushin focuses on Billy Martin’s son, Billy Joe: ‘Billy Joe sat enraptured in the dark room, as if in a movie theater, a boy literally looking up to bartenders and ballplayers, in the only childhood that he knew, which was the world of Major League Baseball. He was belt-high, like a bad fastball, but spending his summers with the Bronx Zoo Yankees.’”

BULLETIN BOARD SAYS: Like a bad fastball (in a movie theater, no less), huh? How high (or low) do you suppose a bad simile is?

Outdoor life (and death?) as we know it

THE ASTRONOMER of Nininger: “Subject: Deer hunt.

“Tony had described the big 10-point buck he had seen a week earlier near my blind, bordering some neglected woods adjacent to an alfalfa field. That buck would pass by again, and I just needed to be there when he does.

“I shot my first deer in 1960, when I was 19 years old. Now I was hunting deer again, and each season tells a story that details the weather, the terrain and the hunt itself.

“I sometimes bring along a thermos of coffee, but this afternoon I just sat down and waited, out of the wind in that blind Tony had set up earlier. I was totally enclosed in that camouflaged tent-like structure. What one does while waiting is probably different for each hunter. It is a time for contemplation, for self- reflection, and for fantasizing, especially about a big buck. When deer finally do come into sight, they don’t do so making a lot of noise or by giving any warning announcing their arrival on the scene. It is almost like magic, in that suddenly they are there. And I do mean suddenly. This afternoon was no different.

“I was watching down an old dirt trail, dusty from the lack of rain. Nothing there. So I flicked my eyes to scan the alfalfa field to the left, and as I scanned back to the right, there was a deer, standing motionless in the middle of the trail, about 30 to 40 yards away. She was a mature doe, medium-sized; definitely not a large one. Her ears were bent back, indicating that she was aware of my presence. Did she smell me, or did she see me? I was in a blind, but she might see my eyes or some other skin. Those ears were really quite large, and it is likely that they could funnel even the faintest of sounds to her.

“Then, as suddenly as she tensed up, she relaxed and her ears came forward. She leaned downward, clenching a bite of whatever kind of grass was growing beneath her. I was using a Ruger .357 Magnum revolver. I lined up the sights on her neck as it settled between her shoulders, pointing right at the brisket. The front blade was painted with a fluorescent-orange nail polish that I picked up at the big-box store on the edge of town. With that, I was able to see the sights more clearly in subdued light. We continued to stare at each other.

“I held the handgun with both hands, making a firm foundation for my shot. I hadn’t cocked the hammer yet — still lined up on her, but still restrained. Did I want to pass up a chance for a big buck? Tony’s information about that 10-pointer prodded me. Still, it makes ecological sense to take a doe. There is a surplus of them, and it might be better to put her in the freezer than allow her to end up in the radiator of someone’s car. I placed my thumb on the hammer and slowly rotated it backwards to cock it.

“I made my decision and allowed her to run free. She sort of side-stepped into the brush adjacent to the trail. She disappeared as magically and swiftly as she had arrived. I carefully uncocked the handgun and holstered it. The Good Wife and I will not starve because I did not shoot this deer, and it will be larger next year. Besides that, I still can hunt (in this area) until after Thanksgiving.

“One thing my dad taught me when I was growing up was to recognize that you can have a great day hunting . . . and if you take some game, that is a bonus. The weather was pleasant. And I know that I could have taken this deer. A breath of fresh air blew across my face. It was a rewarding hunt that made me feel lucky to be able to hunt in this great state.”

Life (and death) as we know it

AL B of Hartland reports: “My wife and I attended an interment. There had been no funeral or visitation. The weather was colder than it needed to be, and the robust wind made it feel like it was 2 degrees. The honor guard fired their rifles three times. A bugler played Taps. There was no one else there who knew the deceased. He’d outlived most of his family. The lone survivor was infirm. I watched a member of the honor guard stamp his feet for warmth. It was a sad occasion, yet I was glad to be where my feet were. The three of us remembered. Everyone should be remembered. We went home and ate funeral potatoes.”

Where we live

LUV.MOM writes: “We had our first snow this year on October 14, and now we are approaching the end of November with snow accumulation on the ground. In the meantime, we have had several days of summer temperatures, almost-daily wide variations in ‘feels like’ temperatures, strong winds, ice-forming freezing nights, bright sunshine, and spectacular orange sunsets.

“Minnesota’s slogan is ‘Land of 10,000 Lakes.’ Well, Welcome to Minnesota, the land of 10,000 seasons!”

BAND NAME OF THE DAY: Velveeta Vindication