Friday Ephemera
Know your double. From teleporter malfunctions and busty avatars to future selves and vestigial twins. // For those who like to look down. // Probe the uncanny with Dimension X radio dramas. // Incoming fog. // Forests, woods and creeks. // “Orchestral movements from the ‘hood.” // Cylon and Garfunkel. // Laser dentistry. // Dishwasher interior. // An unusual dog. // “The mild cigar from Benson & Hedges.” I remember the one with the toupée. // The magnetic cello is neat but somewhat lacking in nuance. // Wedding photos of note. // “No maintenance” plants in sealed jars. // BatDad. // Belleville rendezvous. // I want one and so do you. // Boosted big-eyed butterflies. // I think there’s a little something on your hand.
The dog named pig … Omg, I’m still crying!
Know your double.
Inspired.
Two Planet Xs?
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn25711-two-giant-planets-may-cruise-unseen-beyond-pluto.html#.U5qoYPldWSo
Cylon and Garfunkel
Did you consider “The Sound of Cylons”?
Very splendid I must say
Filmed in 1927, Arthur Conan Doyle talks about his most famous creation. And fairies.
Bad-arse wedding photos David, reminds me of this snap of a bunch of local cricketers that a lucky photo-journalist took about a decade ago when there were bushfires near where I was living at the time, at Newcastle.
What gets me is that the cricketers are so cool about it that some are just casually walking towards the fire as if it’s no biggy, really…. though I seem to recall play was called off shortly after the photo.
Bad-arse wedding photos
Heh. Bad-arse. It just doesn’t sound right in English, does it? I mean, as opposed to whatever it is those American chappies speak.
Mardy bum wedding photos? Nah that doesn’t work.
Speaking of bums, Hamlet cigars taste like they were rolled on the hairy cheeks of a sweaty Wolverhampton car mechanic called Derek.
The only reason they exist is to help you identify the precise moment when you became too drunk to know better. Not that this is useful information, it merely serves as a marker between the merry stage of inebriation and the part where everything gets a bit fall-downy.
If anything the Hamlet adverts oversold the glamour of smoking a cheroot with a fume so noxious it would be banned in Mordor, and a taste so diabolically foul that it has been cited by theologans as proof that a) there is a God, and b) He’s very angry with us.
I don’t know about that magnetic cello. It sounds like a crappy 80s sequencer.
“Heh. Bad-arse. It just doesn’t sound right in English, does it?”
No, in English English it just sounds descriptive.
That 727 in the woods looks really stable propped on a pile of pallets like that. I would definitely feel relaxed.
I would definitely feel relaxed.
Yes, it’s a, um, suboptimal solution. But what’s life without the thrill of imminent structural collapse?
It sounds like a crappy 80s sequencer.
Don’t you dare badmouth crappy 80s sequencers. That was a formative time in my life. Harrumph.
Hamlet? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, as the old Fraud of Vienna allegedly remarked.
I’d rather have the pet owl than the precarious 727. Prolly a lot less trouble.
Evening, di. Time for wine, I think.
Rotate your owl.
Sorry, wrong link. This one better.
For the football fan who has everything (else)
I think ¥42.88 million comes out to about £250,000.
Evening, di. Time for wine, I think.
I was at work late to make up for going home early to plant things while the season still permitted it.
Then Typepad went patas arriba and there went all my fun.