For those of you blissfully unaware, raggare is a term used to describe a Swedish subculture of people who really, really like America in the ’50s. Really, really like it. Rockabilly music, big cars, greasy hair, Confederate flags … the whole shebang.

Back when I was growing up—which for anybody new to this blog was in a small town in Sweden in the ’70s—raggare were EVERYWHERE. Their modus operandi was to:

• Drive huge, ratty American cars around and around in the center of the city;
• Kick anybody’s ass who looked different from them.

There was no step three.

Which meant that basically everybody I knew had been either assaulted or accosted. Yes, we’re talking about stuff like four drunk guys jumping out of a car and pounding you for being a “snob” or “faggot.” (The criteria for falling in either of those categories was not wearing a jeans jacket.)

Which means I don’t feel particularly charitable to their little miserable subculture.

The raggar culture did its recruiting from the deeper ranks of the provincial working class, so book learning was never exactly à la mode. Which could explain the deepest irony: I never met one of them who could speak passable English. So you’d hear things like “Buick” pronounced “bee-YUCK.”

And now, according to guardian.co.uk, it seems they never went away, but have been flying under my radar for a few years, waiting and watching, ready to roll up on me the next time I’m walking down a Swedish street.

Bastards.

If you like your crime fiction rough and gritty, this novel is for you. It utterly consumed me when I read it. Basically, it’s about an old crime and new crimes—terrible, terrible crimes—uncovered by the search for closure of the old crime, with the story taking place in what at first seems like a pastoral modern Sweden. The original Swedish title, Män som hatar kvinnor translates into Men who hate women, which should give you an idea of what is happening.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is actually the first part of a trilogy, so if you do buy it and enjoy it, there’s plenty more goodness to come.

Unfortunately, Larsson passed away right after completing the trilogy, so we will never get any more of his work. This is sad, but if you can leave something as compelling as this trilogy behind, you did something right with your life.

Note that I haven’t read the English translation, so I can’t vouch for it, but with the marketing muscle the publisher seems to be putting behind The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, I can’t imagine it being subpar.

If you read it, please comment or email me to let me know what you think—there’s an odd frisson to having the dark psychotic offshoots of the culture where you grew up exposed to the world.

One of his amusements was to name his animals after family members. One of them was a bull he didn’t like. Apparently the bull was lazy. So naturally he named it after his brother-in-law.

From what I’ve been told, one day he stood and looked at the bull in its manger, shook his head, and said, “We only keep you around for the fertilizer.”

Lots of that going around these days.

So I was incredibly happy to be able to spend Midsummer in Sweden and partake along with my daughter.

The holiday requires nubbe—chilled akvavit—so there was quite a line at the state-controlled liquor store the day before.

Inside Systembolaget (the Swedish state-controlled liquor store). Click for larger version.

A large part of the tradition is the raising of and dancing around the midsummer pole. As you can see, the phallic nature of the pole was disguised by Christian missionaries with the addition of a cross bar which was then subverted with the cunning use of wreaths. You can use your own dirty mind to figure out what the wreaths resemble. Clever of the heathens, I say.

Midsummer pole. Click for larger version.

After the pole was raised, traditional dancing ensued. Andrea was a bit confused but happy.

Traditional dancing. Click for larger version.

Another important tradition is to eat outside. Dagnabbit, it’s the middle of summer, so Food Shall be Consumed Out of Doors. As is also customary, rain was threatening, so it was a bit touch and go on that part.

Eat outside you want, eh? Click for larger version.

But never say die, so we set the table on the patio.

The table getting set up. Click for larger version.

The most important items are already on the table: the herring and the nubbe. Everything else is gravy.

Fortunately, the weather gods relented, and we were able to dine al fresco.

All in all, an excellent Midsummer’s Eve.

A couple in Sweden have, for whatever reason, decided to name their baby daughter Metallica.

The problem (for them, not their daughter, who obviously is going to have whole other set of problems) is that the Swedish National Tax Board have refused to let the couple register the name.

A non-Swede would be excused to ask, “What does a Tax Board have to do with this?”

Allow me to explain. Basically the way things work in Sweden is that no matter what the issue, there’s a government agency to take care of you. Some people kept giving their children ridiculous names that caused them to be mocked and ridiculed. So a government agency was given the authority to oversee names in the interest of making sure that children weren’t given names that could cause hardship later in life.

Those people are obviously still on the job.

The thing I always wonder about is how they handle immigrant names. If Abdul and Hined move to Sweden from some faraway land, and then choose to name their child after the arab version of Metallica, how would the Swedish National Tax Board know?

I’m guessing there’s an efficient bureaucracy leaving no stone unturned, with consultants brought in from all over the world as needed, able to discern that a child’s name actually means Frigtard in Hindi…

Soundtrack: “Breaker” by Accept

Elsa Charlotte Karlin, born January 11, 2007.
Click for larger version.

May she live a hundred years.

Ice Palace. Photo: Roland Svensson. Source: Skaraborgs Allehanda.
Click for larger version.

A fire broke out in a department store building on a day of temperatures of -20F (-30C). The cold was so bad that firefighters could only work 20-minute shifts, and there were still a few cases of frostbite.

Soundtrack: The Loft on XM Satellite

Keeping that in mind … friends, Romans, lend me your screens and allow me to show you the ultimate in human food:

Kebab pizza. Click for larger version.

Kebabs are delicious. Pizza is delicious. When you join these two forces of deliciousness together, what do you end up with?

That’s right. Crazy delicious. That’s what.

The little plastic container at the top of the picture contains another Swedish pizza specialty—a cabbage salad made with vinegar, oil, and spices that complements the pizza. It should be noted here that of course neither the pizza nor the salad are in any way Swedish inventions. Every pizzeria I’ve set foot in has been operated and run by immigrants from various middle- or far-Eastern countries.

I, for one, would like to thank them for their contributions to the culinary treasures of the world.

Soundtrack: “Murder For The Money” by Morphine

My nephew as Mini Santa. Click for larger version.

Hope all is well wherever you’re reading this.

Soundtrack: “Little Bird” by Lisa Miskovsky

I like the composition on this one. Feels like Christmas.

Soundtrack: “Little Bird” by Lisa Miskovsky