Category Archives: In the Win Column

The Scale of Importance

We have Xfinity now. I spent this morning watching free episodes of Archer and Adam Ruins Everything on demand. And the coolest part of today was when the phone rang, I saw the number in the upper right hand corner of the TV screen.

So now I no longer have to get up and check the phone to see if I want to bother answering the phone. But the best part is, when someone I know is calling me, they will have a clear idea of how I rate them in terms of importance, when I could easily pause my on-demand episode of Archer to answer the phone, but I choose not to.

You’re welcome.

Butterbeer Comes in Threes

I was about to say bitterness. But I decided to end it on a more solid note, because the handful of reviews I’ve read about Remember Salem all involve the butter scotch soda they sell. People think it’s great that they can get butterscotch soda at Remember Salem, which would be amazing if that was the only place on Earth that they could buy it.

The Witch Museum right around the corner and Enchanted down on Derby Wharf all sell butterscotch soda. Quite a few shops probably sell it, because like the overpriced tie-in merchandise you can also find at Remember Salem (and K-mart, Walmart, Target, Hot Topic, Spencer’s Gifts, and everywhere that can order those very things from a catalog).

But if the butter scotch soda isn’t what you were hoping for, then look no further than the SAM_0923.JPG

where they will make you butterbeer from scratch, which is far more in keeping with the fictional beverage of the Harry Potter universe and only costs 2.50 for a small and 2.75 for a large.

A Record Number Of Readers Saves The Day

I wrote a follow up post about my experiences at the Beverly Library the other day. This post as laced with mean-spirited jabs at certain people within the institution in question, but I didn’t expect the post to attract so many readers.

I don’t why I’m suddenly so observant, when it didn’t bother me in the slightest to brag about my rather abrupt exit from The Single Mop Superstore and to subsequently defend myself to the mouthy trolls who judged my actions afterwards.

Could it be that while I have no problem squaring off with the librarians on their home turf I have no wish to be labeled an Internet Bully? I mean, I wouldn’t have mentioned them by name. But the nicknames and clever character descriptions would not have flattered them in the slightest, and they would undoubtedly recognize their own unique oddities no matter how I chose to dress them up.  In the context, I certainly wouldn’t be bullying any more than writers like Torey Hayden and Mary McCracken were bullies when they criticized the actions of their colleagues.

No, I think the reason I am choosing to stay my hand just now, is that I have no wish to alienate the readers who gave me a record number of hits yesterday.

Thank you readers. But just a fair warning, I kowtow to no one and will resume my spiteful critique of humanity in the very foreseeable future.  Today is my gift.

Although I will point out the oddity of a coffee cup in such a haphazard location, which likely contains something far more damaging to library materials than my measly handful of pistachios. (And the dozen or so fiber bars that I’ve also eaten at those very computers)


Did The Rabbit Taste Like Chicken… or have Chickens tasted like Rabbit all Along?

So, the rabbit turned out to be pretty tasty. I broiled it on both sides for up to forty minutes (See the video) and I shared a couple of pieces with my dog. He enjoyed it too, but I guess it’s to be expected as dogs traditionally hunt rabbits, so the universe has balanced itself out.

I do have one question for the rabbit cooking community. What are these?



I have my theories, but I’d like it if people could confirm it. They were inside the rabbit. I assume they’re… kidneys. But more to the point, I want to know if I can eat them. Fry them up for breakfast, maybe?  (They are Kidneys. Special thanks to Daryll for responding to my Facebook post)

See this is the kind of information I could have used when I asked people how to cook the rabbit. But people were too busy telling me how Gordon Ramsey would prepare it to point out these particular details.

Without further adieu, here’s the video I promised.

The Market Basket Bunny

I’m Cooking Wabbits

I need some advice.

I’ve never had rabbit. I’ve always wanted to try rabbit. So imagine my surprise when browsing through the meat department of Market Basket, I saw rabbit. Skinned and clean, of course, wrapped in cellophane, but a whole rabbit.

Later, I would post on Facebook whether or not anyone knew how to cook rabbit. They can be cooked liked chicken, someone replied. That’s fine, because I’ve cooked plenty of chickens. I was less interested in the tips on how to prepare the rabbit––seasoning and such––because I only wanted to know how cooked the rabbit must be before it’s safe to consume. I like to know what the animal tastes like free of herbs and condiments.

John informed me that I would be eating the rabbit alone. That’s fine, because there would be more for me and Dicky. (Oh, can dogs eat rabbit? That’s something else I need to know)

My dilemma is this.

April, 2012, I was living in Danvers. On Easter Sunday, I went for a walk to the Liberty Tree Mall. I like going to places where I know no one will be. And owing to Massachusetts Blue Laws, there’s no place more desolate and silent than the shopping mall. (Yes reader, the mall was closed. No reader, this is not a confession I am writing from the interrogation room of a police department, so you can be confident in knowing that I wasn’t walking in the mall)

Along the road that runs behind the mall, connecting Walnut Street to Endicott, I found a dead rabbit. Immediately, almost involuntarily, my hand went into my pocket to retrieve the camera that I bought myself on my last birthday. Immediately, almost involuntarily, the joke was clear in my mind (What’s that reader? You don’t know what the joke is? You don’t understand what’s funny about this? Let me spell it out for you. Dead Rabbit + Easter Sunday. Go on, I’ll wait.) I wanted to take a picture of this rabbit, who had been struck down sometime on or before Easter, and post it online. Maybe make a cleverly worded meme and see if I could achieve my fifteen…th of a second’s fame through Facebook or Twitter. But I hesitated.

I hate Easter.

It’s nothing from my childhood. My memories of Easter were always pleasant. Okay, there was one particular Easter that wasn’t so nice, but it wasn’t enough to color my feelings about the entire holiday(there were actually two). The day it happened was the day before Easter, when I was working the cash register at K-mart. What was in the carts, the amounts they totaled.

K-mart sold eggs and Easter candy, but these weren’t Easter sales. Video games, movies, Transformers toys and dolls. This was… Christmas shopping. I remembered Lewis Black’s famous joke about Christmas being Thanksgiving Part One and thinking, “Oh Crap. Easter is Christmas Part Three.”

And that’s why I hate Easter. Because as a child, Easter was a day to color eggs and then go looking for them and then to start devouring them along with the chocolate bunnies and other assorted sweets.

Oh and to religious people who are going to try to respond with shame, over how I could hate a holiday that marks the resurrection of Christ, I reply, “You or wrong, Sir or Ma’am!” Easter is named for the goddess of spring. A pagan goddess. If you were truly devoted as your brain tells you you are, you would refer to the day in question as Resurrection Day. But if you insist on celebrating “Easter” then I remain steadfast in my hatred of this day and the failure of humanity that prompted my feelings.

Moving on.

I could not take the picture. It wasn’t that I was worried about the backlash from the media or from the knee-jerk reactionists that inhabited Twitter, Facebook, and Buzzfeed. It wasn’t that I was afraid of destroying the innocence of children the world over (although I know and am related by blood and marriage to a number of kids who would have found it hilarious). I couldn’t take the picture, because I felt it would be disrespectful to the rabbit.

Yes, I did not want to show disrespect to an animal that that the world collectively describes as something that destroys gardens and reproduces. I didn’t kill the rabbit, but it didn’t die for my amusement, or for the continued amusement of the Internet.

Fast forward to 2016.

I saw the rabbits in their nice packaging, with the label that told me they came from a farm in Iowa. The clerk told me they carried this often, so there was no rush to buy it now.

Later, I will buy one. I will cook it to perfection, trying my hardest not to ruin it. And I will serve it on a plate, with some eggs. Maybe they’ll be scrambled, maybe they’ll be boiled. And some greens. A nice green salad. For full effect, I may also place an appropriately decorated Easter basket on the table beside the plate with the rabbit and the eggs and the salad.

I know, faithful reader, that you see where I’m going with this. To I take a picture of this? Will it make me a hypocrite, to feel so horrible for doing this to roadkill, but not to the one I am about to eat (The rabbit I bought from the store, not the roadkill, please keep up)?

What do you think? Please tell me soon.



Nathanielle Sean Crawford

Author of the blogs Confessions of a Cart Jockey

  The Salem Author From Bennington

And the e-books: Survive by the Sword

The Sweetest Death


Reader’s Reply:

Try roasting it with some sage.

My First Town Meeting

Yesterday I participated in my very first town meeting. As some readers may be aware, they have recently declared Procter’s Ledge, off of Boston Street, to be the site where victims of The Witch Trials were hanged.

The topics of conversation mainly circled around whether or not to memorialize this site and how to go about doing it. The primary consensus among all of the townspeople present was that we would love it if Walgreens could just pack it’s bags and go. (Make note of this Walgreens, you’re encroaching on Hallowed Ground and we don’t appreciate it)

In seriousness though, the other main concern is of course having tourists and other “types” traipsing about on property that is shared by home owners as well as the Walgreens corporation. We definitely want to have it recognized as a national landmark, preferably with a stone plaque that marks the location of this terrible event. But what many of us, myself included, have suggested is having the area fenced in so that people can see it from a safe distance without disturbing the site.