There’s Always A Bloody Catch
Tomorrow, Saturday, is this blog’s twelfth birthday. That’s a stretch of time I hadn’t envisioned when I started doing this. Back in February 2007, I had no idea what I was doing with this thing – and no expectation that I’d still be doing it, hopefully a little better, more than a decade later. I can’t quite decide if this is a feat of unparalleled heroism on my part, or just bloody-minded obstinacy.
Either way, it’s a tissue-thin pretext to remind patrons that this rickety barge is kept afloat by the kindness of strangers. If you’d like to help it remain buoyant a while longer, and remain ad-free, there’s an orange button below with which to monetise any love. Debit and credit cards are accepted. For those wishing to express their love regularly, there’s a monthly subscription option top left. And if one-click haste is called for, my PalPay.Me page can be found here. Additionally, any Amazon UK shopping done via this link or the search widget top right, or for Amazon US via this link, results in a small fee for your host at no extra cost to you.
For newcomers wishing to know more about what’s been going on here for the last twelve years, in over 2,600 posts and more than 90,000 comments, the reheated series is a pretty good place to start – in particular, the end-of-year summaries. There you’ll find the gaseous emissions of ecologically-minded artists; adventures at the arse-end of academia; thoughts on rioting and the left-leaning media; and much pondering of the thought processes of empowered feminists. If you can, do take a moment to poke through the discussion threads too. The posts are intended as starting points, not full stops, and the comments are where much of the good stuff is waiting to be found. And do please join in.
As always, thanks for the support, the comments, and the company.
Thanks for all the ‘adventures at the arse-end of academia’… 🙂
Tip jar hit.
My favourite blog. Pinged. Again.
Tip jar hit
Pinged.
Bless you both. May you never know the horror of spilling turmeric on white trousers.
Encouraging scenes.
Via Ace.
Bunged a few quid in the tip jar. Thanks for the laughs and being a good host. (Still catching up on the ‘reheated’ posts…)
Bunged a few quid in the tip jar.
Bless you, sir. May your signal strength never falter in rural environs.
Happy blog birthday. *kerching*
*kerching*
Bless you, madam. May your thread counts be high and your fabric softener effective.
*Ker-CHING!*
I think what I like best about your blog (as well as the insanity – I’m very insane myself, not proud of it but you go with your strengths) is that it’s nowhere near as useless as I was when I was twelve……
*Ker-CHING!*
Bless you, sir. May the yolks of your poached eggs be soft and yielding, and the whites firm, never runny.
it’s nowhere near as useless as I was when I was twelve
Twelve bloody years, though. That’s a childhood, more or less.
– Don’t think they’d invented eggs yet when I was twelve, much less poached –
Pinged.
There’s a little birthday present in the tip jar.
Twelve more years!
Pinged.
Twelve more years!
Bless you both. May your struggles with freshly-laundered duvet covers be brief and unequivocal.
May your struggles with freshly-laundered duvet covers be brief and unequivocal.
It’s what a husband is for. 🙂
It’s what a husband is for. 🙂
Bulldog clips also work.
“By the middle of the year, robocalls are expected to make up half of all calls that occur in the U.S.”
Great blog, David.
*Ping*
*Ping*
Bless you, madam. May you discover that haggis tastes better than it sounds.
Pinged. Keep up the bloody-minded obstinacy.
Keep up the bloody-minded obstinacy.
I was hoping for the heroism thing, but I’ll go with bloody-mindedness. And bless you, sir. May your Other Half forget your birthday just once, resulting in extra leverage when subsequently negotiating a suitable present.
[checks bank balance … finds it ok to hit the PayPal button]
*Ping*
Happy 12th – this blog is now old enough to attend middle school. 😉
Incoming!
https://pjmedia.com/instapundit/321168/
Insta-insta lanch-lanch-lanch.
Alert! Alert! Alert!
https://youtu.be/DqNac7Fz1Uc?t=55
Has anyone tried pinged eggs?
I am disgruntled. I have the flu even though I got a flu shot.
I want a refund.
David, what did the leveraged present turn out to be? A slightly-used flamethrower?
Insta-insta lanch-lanch-lanch.
[ Returns from family dinner, sees urgent need for extra chairs. ]
Happy 12th – this blog is now old enough to attend middle school. 😉
Bless you, madam. May the cardboard tube inside your toilet roll never come unravelled, resulting in a delivery system that’s structurally unsound.
12 pound for 12 years, kind host. May your garden weeds be plucked as easily as saints ascending upon The Rapture.
Bless you, sir. May you never misplace the corkscrew.
[ Sounds of rummaging in kitchen drawer. ]
Thanks to all who’ve chipped in so far (including those much too shy to say hello), or who’ve subscribed, or done shopping via the Amazon links. It’s much appreciated and is what keeps this place here.
Another drop in your bucket.
Chocolate Kong.
Another drop in your bucket.
Bless you, sir. May you always remember to waterproof new boots.
생일 축하합니다
And I object to being referred to as “Bull Dog Clips”
Congrats on the blog’s 12th Aniv.
May the cardboard tube inside your toilet roll never come unravelled, resulting in a delivery system that’s structurally unsound.
Nightmare. Were you alright?
Were you alright?
Heh. It was an alarming turn of events, as you can imagine, but I was very brave.
What was the leveraged present? If he gives you a flamethrower when he’s NOT in trouble…
Ka-chinged, on condition that I get the poached egg blessing. I LOVE poached eggs with soft yolks.
Else I’m un-ka-chinging.
I have the flu & I keep waking up coughing.
Entertain me in my last hours, please.
Ka-chinged, on condition that I get the poached egg blessing.
Consider the poached egg blessing yours, madam. I’m now going to have to think of a replacement for Mr Knott. As you can imagine, after doing so many of these – I think we’re well into three figures now – devising new ones is not the easiest task.
Speaking of poached eggs, I recommend these babies here. There’s little, if any, mess and they’re pleasing to fondle.
and much pondering of the thought processes of empowered feminists.
Some good old fashioned fisking. 🙂
Some good old fashioned fisking. 🙂
Thanks. To be fair, spotting the evasions and absurdities in feminist posturing isn’t exactly difficult. You pretty much trip over them every few seconds. The bigger puzzle is how these people could come to have sizeable followings among the supposedly educated and clever. Between them, the two ladies have close to 200,000 Twitter followers, and Laurie’s media career has been noted previously. But if you think of their appeal in terms of psychology, rather than soundness of argument, or anything approaching soundness of argument, it starts to make a kind of sense.
What an achievement! Thanks for wading through miles of the deranged outpourings of the left for all of us. How you remain sane is a mystery
Might I suggest you treat yourself to a bottle or two of this. I’ve been having a glass these last few winter evenings and it’s delicious.
Might I suggest you treat yourself to a bottle or two of this.
Ta. Wine tips always welcome.
How you remain sane is a mystery
Best not to pull at that thread, I think.
There’s little, if any, mess and they’re pleasing to fondle.
As Dr. Freud said, sometimes an egg poacher is just an egg poacher…
[ Fondling intensifies. ]
[ Shouts to Other Half: ]
“We’re having poached eggs for lunch.”
[ Muffled objections from another room. ]
“I don’t care. We’re having poached eggs.”
Stand firm, Half! No poached eggs!
Eeewww.
@ Pogonip, in light of the previous comment regarding the poachers, you might want to rephrase that…
That’s why I’ve advised Half to stand firm. No one should have to eat previously fondled poached eggs.
I’m going to take some more cough syrup and go back to bed.
Before I zonk out—Zhang Ziyi is 40 today!🎂
This is noteworthy because my son used to have a big crush on her.
Eeewww.
Poached eggs done badly – i.e., with runny, slimy whites – are indeed disgusting. Done right, however, with toast, pepper and maybe some grated cheese and a whisper of Marmite… well, them’s good eats.
In other news, this is a thing that exists.
“poached eggs done badly…are indeed disgusting.”
Grounds for transportation.
“Entertain me in my last hours, please.”
Reason 4,598 attorneys are disdained:
http://ace.mu.nu/archives/379593.php
“Lawyer With Bed Bugs Falling Out Of His Clothes Causes Courthouse Evacuation…”
Done right, however, with toast, pepper and
Comfort food from my childhood — perfectly poached egg on crisped corned beef hash. :::::::drool::::::::
[ Slides absorbent newspaper underneath Darleen. ]
“Should white boys be allowed to speak?” I won’t spoil the answer for you:
https://thedickinsonian.com/opinion/2019/02/07/should-white-boys-still-be-allowed-to-talk/
“Should white boys be allowed to speak?”
Boys? It seems that these Progressive Thinkers work awfully hard to be viciously hateful.
No photo, so we don’t know for certain if the writer is a black bigot or one of the many white leftists who promulgate hatred of white people.
The end result, though, is to persuade civilized people that leftists are a plague, a disease.
a thing that exists
I’ll stick with _Ethel the Aardvark goes Quantity Surveying_.
[ Muffled objections from another room. ]
“I don’t care. We’re having poached eggs.”
. . . . I’ve noted deviled eggs being perfectly fine, but that’s basically the most interest I’ve ever found for eggs at all. After all there are all the other varieties of commendable and edible food out there to select from . . . .
Li Kai-Ching!
Thanks for being an oasis of sanity.
Oh, and have some poached oysters for your 12th
(watch out for pearls!)
–Bad News
Ping.
Li Kai-Ching!
Ping.
Bless you both. May you be puzzled by an odd, irregular percussive sound and then be pleasantly surprised to spot a woodpecker in a nearby tree.
Thanks for being an oasis of sanity.
No pressure, then.
After all there are all the other varieties of commendable and edible food out there to select from . . . .
https://thedickinsonian.com/opinion/2019/02/07/should-white-boys-still-be-allowed-to-talk/
Siiiiiiiggggggggghhhhhhhhhh . . . . . . . .
Just the opening paragraph, alone:
In short, we have a hipster with a totally accurate sense of self—i.e., being merely a hipster, as opposed to one of us adults—who notes being in the presence of other hipsters who themselves have the same self awareness with inclusive utter lack of any curiosity and interest in seeing how other things are or may be, where the hipster doing the writing is pissed off because the other hipsters are also present near the hipster doing the writing . . . . .
Or at least, as I am reporting, that’s what I get out of that opening paragraph . . . . .
Oy. Utter Oy.
Deviled eggs for the win!
What do you put in your deviled eggs? I use Miracle Whip, Plochman’s mustard (gotta be Plochman’s), a little salt, and a surprise, such as a bit of leftover meat, if we have it on hand.
David, that guy has stuck with you through thick and thin, not to mention putting up with the bar crowd here. Serving poached eggs is no way to show your appreciation.
Oy. Utter Oy.
Oh, and for any reactions by writer or the writer’s intended targets or enablers for either, if someone should attempt to try to claim that one subsect of hipster should take precedence over another, Ah, No.
A hipster, thus insisting on being seen as totally correct, is a hipster.
And thus a followup thought also just came to mind;
A plague o’ both your houses!.
Consider the poached egg blessing yours, madam.
Thank you sir!
I’ve seen those poached egg thingys but have never used them. Maybe I’ll give them a go.
Deviled eggs for the win!
What do you put in your deviled eggs?
Teeth.
Or:
Oh, actually, I don’t.
—I don’t make deviled eggs, that is.
That would involve having to make the things, thus doing things with eggs, which I’m not inclined towards in the first place, Etc . . . . I generally just munch on some or so if they turn up at some event.
As far as food and ingredients, I am aware of the complete lack of circumstance for mushrooms to be even considered a form of food, but eggs . . . . Meh.
Eggs rather rank with jicama and eggplant as being among those things only used as a transport materiel for the actually interesting added ingredients . . . . which thus does beg the question of why not just stick to the interesting ingredients, or when a supporting matrix is needed for those ingredients, find something just as interesting?
It’s been a minor ice age since I did tinkering with recipes, but once upon a time I did come up with Steak Cassiel and Brownies And Tea.
A number of years back when I was recurringly doing the engineering of lasagne, I did get definite glowing approval of my execution of garlic and meat lasagne rather than meat lasagne made merely in the vicinity of some garlic.
And there was the event I attended where I again got definite metaphoric handsprings regarding my large bowlful of nothing more than, as I recall, boiled spaghetti, a jar of olives, and some emphatic pouring of lemon juice.—The event was a quite Orthodox Sukkot potluck, so I needed to select ingredients Just So.
Eggs? . . . . . . Meh.
Do have at, if inclined . . . . but, Meh.
I use Miracle Whip
[ Spits. Throws salt over shoulder. Makes sign of the cross. ]
Eggs rather rank with jicama and eggplant as being among those things only used as a transport materiel for the actually interesting added ingredients . . . . which thus does beg the question of why not just stick to the interesting ingredients, or when a supporting matrix is needed for those ingredients, find something just as interesting?
It’s been a minor ice age since I did tinkering with recipes, but once upon a time I did come up with Steak Cassiel and Brownies And Tea.
OK.
*decides to mooch around outside smoking in the hope that the taxi won’t be long coming*
We see that Steve’s mom, or perhaps Mrs. Steve’s mom, was a mayo mom. The U.S. Gov’t did a study once and found that whether a woman’s mother used Miracle Whip or mayo, the daughter was very likely to carry on in the same tradition.
MY mom, a woman of exceeding class and good taste, was a Miracle Whip mom.
My mom was also somewhat colorblind, unusual in the female. She could distinguish basic colors but not the variety of shades within a color, or which color went with which. My brother caught the full red/green colorblindness syndrome. Ironically, I am one of those females that can discern many gradations of hue. I am pleased to report I did not pass colorblindness on to the Pogoniplet.
Neither Steve’s mom nor Mrs. Steve’s mom were mayo moms. Both were, in fact, Miracle Whip moms which is why Steve and Mrs. Steve are mayo people. Miracle Whip is made from fermented polystyrene and brings an unnatural flavour to whatever it’s used in. But to each his own.
Mrs. Steve’s Dad is colour blind though he denies it emphatically. He will eat whatever is put in front on him as long as he doesn’t have to make it himself.
On deviled eggs in our house it is not just mayo, but Best Foods Mayo (aka Hellmann’s east of the Rockies).
Some dry mustard, touch of onion powder, salt and white pepper.
The only argument is whether or not part of the batch will have sweet pickle relish as an additional ingredient.
Short, but inspired, accompaniment.
😄
Ok, there have been at least a dozen comments about eggs, so I think it’s about time to post this link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECtG_h2ppoQ
(Remy’s Eggs Over Easy).
I’ve seen those poached egg thingys but have never used them. Maybe I’ll give them a go.
They’re much easier to clean than most of the alternatives.
Also, fondling.
I may update the blogroll over the next few days. If anyone has additions to suggest – including items that aren’t strictly speaking blogs (YouTube channels, podcasts, etc) – by all means do.
I don’t think those are sleeves.
Via Dicentra.
Italy shows how to frighten children, small dogs, and SJWs.
Well, OK, if you say so.
“Feds Spend $228,636 to Find Out Why Obese Lesbians Binge Eat”
Guess what? It’s due to Bad Thoughts ™:
The researchers claim society can “influence young women’s eating in everyday life” and hypothesize that racism and homophobia are having an impact on minority lesbians who binge eat.
They’re getting chonky, and it’s your fault.
Forgot to: h/t Jim Goad
They’re getting chonky, and it’s your fault.
There was a largely dispelled theory that the mighty Brontosaurus lived in water to support its weight, perhaps it wasn’t really wrong.
Being a gentleman, I won’t ask why Mr Muldoon is browsing overweight lesbian dating apps.
… perhaps it wasn’t really wrong.
Spoiler that thing would you? I’ve just finished my lunch.
Being a gentleman, I won’t ask…
Being a gentleman I felt I should spare you from having to do all the heavy lifting finding the sort of things which grace these pages. As an added bonus, I felt you probably needed a respite from all the fondling.
Besides, the site was “ManyManateesInTheSea.net”.
Happy (belated) blog birthday.
Pinged!
Italy shows how to frighten children, small dogs, and SJWs.
Huuuuge.
Pinged!
Bless you, madam. During sales, may desirable shoes always be available in your size.
Italy shows how to frighten children, small dogs, and SJWs.
Heh. I don’t know if it’s art, but I do like it.
I’m so glad that actual crime is so low in England that the police can arrest and jail someone over tweets.
I should be so lucky, my office just gets to deal with stuff like this.
BRAVO BRAVO EXCELLENT BLOG !!!!!
That Italy thing. I can’t figure if it is pro-, anti-, or (unicorn here) indifferent-Trump. I’m seeing that being used in different contexts.
In Italy, probably pro- given their Interior Minister and problems with illegal immigrants. The sword says “Your Duties”, whether that is just something left over from the Romans I’ll leave to a classical scholar, but if it was anti- I’d expect it to say something on the lines of “Sword of Yankee Imperialism”.
Meanwhile, I hope to hell this is just someone trolling.