Friday Ephemera

“ He liked business class a lot better than economy class, because he considered himself superior”.
https://www.traveller.com.au/aeroflot-plane-passenger-stripped-of-miles-for-sneaking-fat-pet-cat-into-business-class-cabin-h1jmfi

Is Argos a UK thing? We had one in Pompano Beach for a short while in the late 60’s/early 70’s. Only one I ever saw or heard of. Thought it was a local thing.

Thanks for the thought, Darleen.
My insertion of the same snippet:
One dark and stormy night a long time ago, my father, the village elder, was awakened by the roaring of a storm. He rose from his bed, filled with dread, and, with trembling hands, went to see what the disturbance was about. As he drew near to the door he saw a man standing there who had a large knife in his hand. He was dressed in an old red and white robe with the corners cut away. A long, narrow sword with a black hilt was at his side.
My father asked him, “What are you up to?”
The man said, “I am a messenger of the king.”
Sorry, I don’t know HTML, so can’t spruce it up

Audience of note:
What, you don’t have dog theatres where you live? Barbarian.

Morning, all.
Not entirely implausible.
Via Dicentra.

One dark and stormy night
Am I the only one who noticed that the basic structure is Clement C. Moore’s ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas?

“They mostly come at night… Mostly.”

The undead.
LOL

Trajectory of note. She writes for Vogue.

It’s called a guqin
Marvellous.
Not entirely unrelated, I might have fallen in love.

…the creepy male feminist
The mind goes back to the peculiarly extreme example of Hugo Schwyzer. A few years ago his feminist proclamations were all over the media; feminists like Clem Ford thought he was great.
Then it was revealed he’d tried to kill a previous wife. And had been sleeping with young female students during his tenure as a gender studies academic. Then, finally, he dished on himself in a series of tweets and articles about how he *knew* all the gender studies crap he was spouting *was* crap and he’d been doing it for attention, particularly the attentions of young female students.
Now?
“ As of October 2018, Schwyzer was working at a Trader Joe’s grocery store.[30]”
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugo_Schwyzer

This may amuse
“Suppose post-modernist thought is unconcerned with the dissemination of truth, and that its goal is, instead, the abolition of truth. How would you go about it? You might begin by cloaking it in an excess of verbiage, by using terms precisely defined in so vague a manner that they could mean anything.* Thus, instead of saying “postmodernism is a way of thinking about language,” you could write “Postmodernism is a way of thinking about the world” (or, in plain English: “Postmodernism is a way of thinking about history”). This sort of obfuscation can be useful in certain circumstances, but it is not a useful strategy for spreading the gospel of truth, no matter how absurd the claims it makes. The same goes for the rhetorical strategy of trying to get people to believe something that doesn’t hold up to scrutiny.
And finally, and this one is the trickiest, you could just outright lie about”
*My snippet in bold. Considering the rest of it is gibberish generated by computer, it makes a surprising amount of sense.

“Because you demanded it, four decades of Argos catalogues.”
The scary part is that I actually recognised the first one I ever saw: the glorious gold cover of 1977-’78. In fact, all of them from then right through the ’80s rang a bell. (Weirdly, ’88-’89 seems so familiar that I would have sworn it was much more recent. Knowing my lot, it probably hung around the house for about a decade.)
That space in my brain could be doing something useful.
“If you’ve ever wondered what would be published…”
Note how the unthinking reflex Marxism crowds out any possibility that witch-hunts might have had something to do with overzealous Christianity rather than “capitalism”.
“Not entirely implausible.”
The owls are not what they seem.
AI gives PG Wodehouse a bit of a noir twist:

”Tinkerty-tonk,” I said, and meant it to sting.
She nodded.
”I think she’s just doing her part to keep you out of trouble,” I said.
”But she doesn’t really care if she lives or dies,” she said, turning to glare at me. ”I guess she’d much rather see you dead than suffer the loss of her.”
”But you’re not dying—”
”I’m staying,” she said. ”I’m not leaving without a fight.”
”Well, then, I guess I’ll leave too,” she said. ”I’m staying.”
I shook my head and looked at the city below me.

The scary part is that I actually recognised the first one I ever saw
I vaguely recall my first visit to an Argos store, as a wee seedling. It seemed both futuristic and downmarket. With lots of jostling.
Needless to say, it no longer seems futuristic.

OK, now this one seems plausible…plus I’m impressed that neural networks do come with a patriarchal society feature. I’m guessing it’s a plug-in because, of course.

Three Blondes were driving to Disneyland. The girls were in the front passenger seat and the father was behind the wheel. The girls were driving on I-5 near downtown Vancouver.
When they passed over the U.S. border at Golden, British Columbia, the girls noticed that their car did not have a licence plate. They did not see any signs saying where the plates should be located on the car.
They turned to the front seat passenger and told her to go to the front of the car and look behind the passenger seat. She saw a license plate and realized that the car was a stolen one.
The girls told their father about the licence plate. The father immediately reported the licence plate as stolen to the police.
Vancouver police, Vancouver City Hall, the British Columbia Highway Patrol and the Canadian Border Services Agency were all involved in the investigation.
During the investigation, the girls noticed a small piece of wood lying on the highway. The girls assumed

For some reason it just ends there. Which actually seems appropriate. Gives it a kind of Hemingway feel.

I may use that as a pen name for my line of racy pirate novels.
Heh. Though I’d go with “Feele” or “Feal”. I will be expecting my usual 0.17% royalty that I get for naming stuff. It’s how I finance my hookers and beer jar Widows and Orphans Fund. That reminds me. The Dead Kennedys still owe me money.
Also, re band names. The following list might come in useful for future reference.

When the [social security] programme began, every 100 workers were supporting three retirees… By 2017, 100 workers were supporting 25 retirees… According to Census Bureau projections, by 2030 each 100 working-age Americans will be supporting 35 retirees, and this could rise to 42 by 2060…
Another way to think of this is to calculate the number of retirees each worker must support. In 1946, the burden of one retiree was shared between 42 workers. Today, according to the Social Security Administration, roughly three workers cover each retiree’s Social Security and Medicare benefits. By 2030, however, there will be only two workers supporting each retiree. In other words, a working couple will have to support not only themselves and their family but also someone outside the family thanks to Social Security and Medicare.

Today’s word is unsustainable.

quickly descends to horrifying caricature.
I bring you the world and all that’s in it. 🙂

“It seemed both futuristic and downmarket. With lots of jostling.”
Meaning that 1970s retail was a vastly more accurate foreshadowing of the 21st Century than contemporary science fiction.

How the heck does a job advertisement hurt you?

Some people really enjoy that kind of thing.
Years and years ago, the bluenoses would loudly complain about any tv show they found “offensive”. The usual retort was “change the channel”. Now the woke won’t just ‘change the channel’, they want to ban the program and destroy anyone who like it in the first place.

A great interview with Jordan Peterson.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=88&v=S0P6H7cm0E4&feature=emb_logo
The interviewer is Rex Murphy a columnist with the National Post. If you’re wondering about the accent, that’s what a Newfoundlander sounds like. In Rex’s case a well educated Newfoundlander.
Here’s the description from Jordan Peterson:

“An open conversation with Rex Murphy about the modern state of education, politics, identity, and new media. Recorded in early September. For those international viewers, unfamiliar with Canadian media, it will be useful for you to know that Rex Murphy is one of Canada’s premier journalists: tough, truthful, politically correct, and possessed of a singular style and character. It was both an honor and a pleasure to meet him.”

I thought “bluenoses” were sycophantic smurfs, but then I don’t get out much.

Driving from Edinburgh, we couldn’t help notice the sheep alongside the road, covered with splotches of day-glo paint. We stopped and were surprised to see the animals in a lovely state of undress.
As we got out of the car, they stopped for a moment and were so embarrassed they started to run up the road. This led to a hilarious scene where the sheep, who weren’t even supposed to be there, were trying to keep up with the cars, all of which were driving down the wrong side of the road.
We decided to keep driving for a bit, stopping every once in a while to take pictures. I’d like to think this was a good idea and that they enjoyed the time they were in the frame, but there’s no doubt that they would have been more successful running along the right hand side of the road.
The sheep were quite content and seemed perfectly content
The prompt is part of a travel essay I wrote some decades ago. I see that the AI got as far, sex speaking, as “undressed” but then got sidetracked.

Apropos Douglas Murray’s (unoriginal) observation that those who doth protest a “sin” to cartoonish levels are likely to engage in it privately, here’s a tragic example.
The infanticide and hypocrisy not being sufficiently disgusting, note that she was pushed to murder suicide by having to “find a job and pay [her recent ex-husband] rent if she stayed in their current home”.

Let’s go shopping !
Before and after.

The Crawling Eye
I’m shocked it took this long for someone to offer up the MST3K version.
What kind of cultural backwater is this? I’ll bet you never heard of Monty Python either.

Brum-brum-brum put-put-put.

The quick brown fox

generated

The quick brown fox jumped away. He didn’t want to be known as such a freak.
“I’m not that kind of fox. I can’t have that on my conscience.”
Aang stood there, stunned. “And what do you mean?”
“That I have to be so careful, every step of the way,” she told him.
“And what about the other kids?”
“They’ve already gotten to that. It’s not worth their time.”
“Then what about this whole situation? Who will we tell?”
“You’ll tell them. We’ll do what we have to do.”
“But what will you tell them? How can you trust them after this?”
“I have to trust them,” she said softly. “It’s what I can do. And if we’re all going to die anyway, what difference does it make?”
Aang looked at her

I think I’m well on my way to a tidy fortune writing bad romance novels with this thing…
“I may be the smartest man in the room,” he stridently whispered, “because I‘m the only one who’s ever seen a real woman!”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, but nodded her head to reassure him.
“It’s okay,” he said in a softer tone. “You are beautiful as is. I’m glad you’re here with me.” He reached up and wrapped her in a hug. “So,” he continued in a more playful voice, “how’d you like to go on a first date? We’re going to have a few drinks first, see how it goes, then we’ll go back to your house and take it from there.”
“I’m fine with that,” she mumbled, as her eyes began to water.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked, as he turned

OK, this last one. I promise…sort of…
杰弗里·爱泼斯坦没有自杀。
[1] This is a common saying in China.
[2] A Chinese saying about a person who was born, lives for a long time, and is not going to die any time soon.
[3] I just have to make this work, he thinks to himself.
[4] “Baijiu, is it a liquor or a food?”
[5] Baijiu means liquor but this term was originally used to describe a very strong liquor, and was used to refer to the Chinese whiskey made from fermented rice.
[6] The two different types of wine used in traditional Chinese culture are xin, which is white wine, and liu, which is black wine.
[7] Liutang means

Palette cleanser.

And, in breaking news
[ Follows link to Daily Mail website, which demands deactivation of adblocker. Complies, resulting in avalanche of 183 adverts on one page, which immediately reduce browsing to a stuttering crawl of flickering, migraine-inducing garbage, with ads multiplying endlessly, even popping up to obscure other ads. ]
[ Reactivates adblocker, swears never to visit Daily Mail again. ]

杰弗里·爱泼斯坦没有自杀。
Related, Prince Andrew explains why he chose to stay at a certain house, because there are no five star hotels in NYC, apparently.

Speaking of Prince Andrew, his excuse, when fed into the neural net, renders:
“I admit fully my judgment was probably coloured by my tendency to be too honourable,” 『Lyle-sama』 murmured, as he picked his hair.
「And then, you brought a girl to Lyle-sama…」
It seems that Lyle’s opponent was a man. Lyle has not even used a sword or magic. The man took on the girl as a hostage. The man was wearing a black robe. The man was also tall. He was the commander of the guards.
「I won’t accept that. You are not a good person. You should have just given me a reason.」
「I thought that I needed to show that you are not a good person, and was forced into doing so.」
Lyle made a bitter smile.

The Neural Net takes a dark turn with Muddy Waters…

I got my mojo workin’ here.”
The woman’s laughter had become a little more serious.
“Yes, ma’am, the work was done in the lab,” she said. “But now that we are here, we are working on some new research. We have been talking with some doctors in the hospital. They found out that these symptoms are not limited to this place, that the patients in other cities and towns are also getting these symptoms. And they also said that they have been doing experiments on the same subject. This is why we think the same disease could be spreading.”
“Why would there be experiments on the subject?” I asked.
“Well, some of these people might have been victims of a chemical test,” she answered.
“Chemical tests?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” the woman answered. “But the doctors believe the disease is a sort of flu like illness…

White on white.

Name dropped…
Heh. At last, the glory I deserve. Though I’m not sure how readers of The Atlantic will feel about the post from November 4th, given that the source of political spew is, er, The Atlantic.

[ Resumes work on first draft of racy pirate novel. ]

The Neural Net does Nicki Minaj (h/t Douglas Murray, because if he hadn’t included these lyrics in his recent book, I would still be blessedly ignorant of them)
My anaconda don’t, my anaconda don’t
My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun.
And my anaconda don’t give a shit if you a white man, too.
But they know it, they know it and they know it
They know my anaconda don’t wanna get you in trouble
But they can, they can. And they’ll put a big fat wad
Out your ass for your sins, you white boy.
But they can, they can. And they’ll put a big fat wad
Out your ass for your sins, you white boy.
Oh my anaconda don’t wanna get you in trouble.
Oh my anaconda don’t wanna get you in trouble
Oh my anaconda don’t wanna get you in trouble.
Oh my anaconda don’t wanna get you in trouble.
Oh

From Teh Party Of Science™.
“Sickle cell affects blacks more than wypipo”, the system is broken, bigot.

At last, the glory I deserve.

While I don’t dispute the glory that you deserve, that article was from 2012. Some of the links that Mr. Loder used to read back then are no longer around.
Hopefully, he still reads you.

@Muldoon, education majors aren’t the best-and-the-brightest.
I think they are superior to journalist majors, but I easily could be convinced otherwise.

Damn you men and your sexist …
[flips card]
thermostats.
Ironically, many of us, as children, would complain “it’s cold, turn up the heat” to which our mothers would reply “put on a sweater”.

“Damn you men and your sexist …
[flips card]
thermostats.”
I swear the Telegraph has undercover agents at the Guardian deliberately working to discredit it.