They Insisted On Showing Their Gratitude
It’s time, I fear, to remind patrons that this rickety barge, on whose seating your arses rest, 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 are buttons in the sidebar 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 PayPal.Me page can be found here. Additionally, any Amazon UK shopping done via this link, 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 decade and a half, in over 3,000 posts and 130,000 comments, the reheated series is a pretty good place to start – in particular, the end-of-year summaries, which convey the fullest flavour of what it is we do. A sort of blog concentrate. If you like what you find there… well, there’s lots more of that. 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.
Oh, and for those that don’t know, I now have a Gettr account.
As always, thanks for the support, the comments, and the company. Now share ye links and bicker.
I’ve monetized my love. I’m so ashamed.
Ping.
Thanks for the top blogging. Token of appreciation on its way.
Morning, all.
I’ve monetized my love. I’m so ashamed.
Ping.
Token of appreciation on its way.
Bless you, sirs. Should a young nephew handle your phone, may his paws be free of questionable residue.
As some of you will have been expecting a pile of Ephemera today, I suppose I should use the comments to add a few items of possible interest. Do join in.
An exciting haircut.
Ants versus chili sauce.
And a reminder that English can be tricky.
“Intentional weight loss is fatphobic,” says the “therapist and fitness professional.”
Embrace those chest pains and limited mobility. It’s the intersectional way.
Ants versus chili sauce.
I didn’t expect that. 🙂
Ping!
Ping!
Bless you, madam. May you always have a plaster when you need one.
This is, I should stress, merely a simulation.
This is, I should stress, merely a simulation.
LOL. Pickup truck is the way to go.
Also PING.
LOL. Pickup truck is the way to go.
It would seem to be the, er, least hazardous choice, all things considered.
Also PING.
And bless you, sir. Should you be trying to read on a lazy Sunday afternoon, may the local crows and magpies not be conducting a very vocal turf war immediately overhead.
This is, I should stress, merely a simulation.
Would watch in real life. (Tip jar hit.)
*ping*
(Tip jar hit.)
*ping*
Bless you, sir, and bless you, madam. May you never get your finger in the way when feeding an excited hamster with a highly prized piece of banana. (See plaster blessing, upthread.)
It isn’t about your existing, miss, it’s about your demand that the rest of us pretend:
Strange how the obvious issue is somehow overlooked.
Pinged this morning and totally forgot to swing by and claim my pickled egg.
have a plaster
Ah. So we’re into home repair now?
*divided by a common language and all that*
Pinged this morning and totally forgot to swing by and claim my pickled egg.
Bless you. May your gameplay never be hampered at the worst possible moment by issues of tablet connectivity.
*divided by a common language and all that*
Plaster. Sticking plaster. Adhesive plaster. What do you foreign savages call them?
‘Tis but a scratch.
Ping! Returns to lurking.
Ping! Returns to lurking.
Bless you, sir. May your enemies inadvertently drop quite heavy metallic objects onto their ceramic hobs, resulting in several seconds of anxiety.
Plaster. Sticking plaster. Adhesive plaster. What do you foreign savages call them?
Bandaids. Although that’s a brand name gone common name. I guess the proper term is adhesive bandage. Plaster is what casts are made of, so when I first encountered sticking plasters in a P.G. Wodehouse or Agatha Christie novel, I had a very strange mental picture at first. Finally, context told me it had to be bandaids of some kind, and that the characters were not daubing plaster on their faces etc., which is what I imagined at first.
Bandaids.
Well, we can’t be doing with that heathen jabbering round her.
[ Waits for someone to restart the heated debate about the word aluminium. ]
‘Tis but a scratch.
What the hell?
Isn’t aloo minum an Indian potato dish, possibly invented by Min, who commented at 14:52? Does it also involve the top half of the fish which had disappeared at 14:16?
“heated debate about the word aluminium”
Bauxite?
*ducks*
Pinged.
Don’t let this be any indication that I don’t still hate the whole bloody human race…but you’re OK.
Proofreading…double negatives…well, as I was saying…
Oh, yeah…A-LOOOO-min-um. There. Who’s nonplussed now?
Pinged.
Don’t let this be any indication that I don’t still hate the whole bloody human race…but you’re OK.
Don’t worry, we take your curmudgeonly charm as a given. And bless you, sir. Should you be wafting around the local supermarket and pause to study some particularly intriguing items, may you never subsequently wander off pushing someone else’s trolley instead of your own, and continue for several minutes, blissfully unaware, resulting in somewhat belated and mortified apologies.
#TrueStory
Everything you need to know about the brain-eating amoeba.
Previously and related.
Plaster. Sticking plaster. Adhesive plaster
Plaster of Paris is more in the home repair category.
Bandaids
I thought they were concerts to raise money for that guy whose name I temporarily mis-remember.
Does it primarily infect leftists?
.
we take your curmudgeonly charm as a given.
Well in my defense, I do answer my door when the bell rings which I’m being led to believe is both somewhat stupid of me and thus makes me responsible for anything bad that might happen subsequent to that event. Regardless of my initial (what was once I believe considered common) human decency.
Ah! Now I remember…Bono
Isn’t that the Acquisitive case of the Latin for “good”
Weight loss is fat-phobic? I notice that in the link to her therapist page, she is NOT fat. A little curvy but in a good way. So I guess she speaks from experience? Nobody discriminates against the fat except in dating. But really, you want health problems? Gain 80lbs. It is guaranteed. Almost all those using the mobility scooters at the store (outside of those with a foot cast) are hugely obese. Is that your goal in life?
also ping
Ah! Now I remember…Bono
Bono? I thought it was that guy from that band that pretty much sucked except that did that song about not liking Mondays which itself pretty much sucked who was kinda skinny and who did a real stupid dance thing on an American stand up comedy cable show (he wasn’t trying to be funny…I don’t think) back in the 1980’s when his band was somewhat well known for doing that song about not liking Mondays and something about Rats in a Boomtown and here I am at the end of this long rambling sentence and still can’t thing of his name.
Also did Willie Nelson start that stuff with Farm Aid or did that come later? Yeah, I could look it up just like the Boomtown Rats guy but…I think deep down inside I really don’t want to know…Bob something.
also ping
Bless you, sir. May your scrambled eggs be perfection, each and every time.
Increasingly I get more satisfaction from this community than any other on the webbernets. Pong.
English is tricky: “chicken rude and unreasonable” is a common translation of “jerk chicken” –hahaha
I can totally relate to the ants not liking something spicy. Love the ant cleaning off her (all female) antennae.
chicken rude and unreasonable
Band name.
Increasingly I get more satisfaction from this community than any other on the webbernets.
It’s a happening joint.
Pong.
Bless you, sir. May any books you loan to friends be both enjoyed and returned, sparing you the issue of trying to remember who borrowed what and whether you can be bothered to ask for said items to be handed back, albeit years later.
Plaster of Paris is more in the home repair category.
Also the bone repair category, which is why I was confused by old English novels that had people putting plaster on themselves when they got a cut.
No really, what the hell?
Bob something.
Coincidentally seen an hour ago.
A reminder that good intentions (Live Aid) leads to horrible results.
And here come the italics.
It really is a crappy day, I tell you.
Let’s hope this works.
*Laughs at car simulation*
*goes ew at brain-eating amoeba*
*hits tip jar*
*hits tip jar*
Bless you, madam. May you remember to regularly change the water bottle stuffed in the car door pocket, thereby avoiding an unhappy aftertaste.
Well, we can’t be doing with that heathen jabbering round her.
I always travel with a first aid kit. Lots of bandaids. I keep it in the trunk, not the boot. Might prove useful if I wing a careless cyclist with my fender. Or dent his bonnet with the hood.
Oooo! A button! :::ping:::
Increasingly I get more satisfaction from this community than any other on the webbernets.
This. I can count on one hand the websites whose comment threads I enjoy.
Oooo! A button! :::ping:::
Bless you, madam. May your enemies find the back seats of their cars being buried under a rapidly growing mountain of supposedly reusable supermarket carrier bags.
Thanks to all who’ve chipped in so far, or subscribed, or done shopping via the Amazon links, including all those much too shy to say hello. It’s much appreciated and is what keeps this place here.
Strange how the obvious issue is somehow overlooked.
As I may have noted here before, from the common Intersectionalist right up to Biden and Harris, the left has become considerably less lucid than the lyrics of Wesley Willis.
*ping*
Pass on the pickled egg.
*ping*
Bless you, sir. May there always be less ironing to be done than you feared.
More woke science.
A reminder that good intentions (Live Aid) lead to horrible results.
I was discussing the Great Society’s destruction of black fathers and black churches once, and may have insinuated that LBJ knew what he was doing when it came to keeping the blacks poor and miserable. My counterpart noted that sometimes “stupid” is more destructive than “evil,” referencing Geldof as his example. I felt compelled to concede the point, given the evidence.
Still not sure I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt to that sonnuvabitch Johnson, though.
I misread that as “I now have a Grindr account.”
For those, I suppose, who would like to reward David in kind rather than cash.
I’ll stick to PayPal, for now anyway.
P.S. I’ve been a monthly contributor for several years.
“I now have a Grindr account.”
Heh. Alas, no. I don’t even know which way you’re supposed to swipe.
I’ve been a monthly contributor for several years.
[ A single tear rolls down cheek. ]
Bless you, sir. May you know the simple pleasure of a just-tart-enough gooseberry fool.
I never find things like this at thrift stores.
woke science: For F to Male trans, they have a uterus and can get pregnant, but if they got a penis made then delivery is out of the question and C-section is needed. For M to F no matter what type of vagina you surgically create, they don’t have a uterus so no, no pregnancy possible. I should send them a bill for a corrected midwife manual.
Thanks for everything, David.
Ping!
Bob something.
You are correct, put it down to brain failure on my part. But in my defence I am not a music stan (a new word I learnt an hour ago).
It’s much appreciated and is what keeps this place here.
And gin in the tonic?
Thanks for everything, David.
Ping!
Bless you, sir. May your colander drain with optimal efficiency.
Marching orders on the set, or else.
“just-tart-enough gooseberry fool”
Sigh. I keep thinking I’ve landed back at Heathrow…
Marching orders on the set, or else.
While I enjoy Frank Langella – he’s always been a solid B-movie villain – I do find it just a little incredible that he was unaware of the New Netflix Normal.
“just-tart-enough gooseberry fool”
There seem to be a great many English foods which have largely disappeared in America.
There seem to be a great many English foods which have largely disappeared in America.
Score one for us, but I am sure you can get beans on toast somewhere…
There seem to be a great many English foods which have largely disappeared in America.
Can’t remember the last time I saw boiled eel on boiled toast spiced with salad cream on the menu.
A Full English is improved by omitting the baked beans and black pudding. [ Does that count as heresy around here? ]
A Full English is improved by omitting the baked beans and black pudding.
I think you meant, “omitting everything but the sausage and toast”.
There seem to be a great many English foods which have largely disappeared in America.
And some I’m not sure were ever here, like double cream. I’ve started reading Olivia Potts’ vintage English cooking column at the Spectator, and falling down rabbit holes of recipes when someone here mentions something like gooseberry fool and I go to look up what it is. There are ingredients in English recipes that I can’t duplicate here, even if I could get the conversion of mass to volume precise enough.
I think you meant, “omitting everything but the sausage and toast”.
Begone, thou foul ovophobic heretic!
There are ingredients in English recipes that I can’t duplicate here…
No worries, you can get jellied eels online…
Begone, thou foul ovophobic heretic!
The increase in egg consumption is directly correlated to the increase in Angry & Useless Studies, so go ahead and feed that beast.
The increase in egg consumption is directly correlated to the increase in Angry & Useless Studies
Heresy! Heresy in thought, heresy in word, heresy in deed!
Heresy!
That’s as may be, but I have a clean conscience knowing I’m not contributing to the downfall of western civilization like you ovofetishists.
And some I’m not sure were ever here, like double cream.
No double cream? Dear God, it’s like the Dark Ages. So, what do your pour over your raspberries, strawberries, and other summer fruits? You do have fruit over there, don’t you?
There are ingredients in English recipes that I can’t duplicate here
I once found an Australian cookbook at a yard sale that had some attractive recipes in it, until I got it home and realized half the recipes called for “capsicum”. I was quite perturbed, thinking this was some native Australian comestible I would never be able to locate on this side of globe. Then I found out a capsicum is a bell pepper.
She teaches 4th graders.
She teaches 4th graders.
Are schools only hiring mentalists now?
Are schools only hiring mentalists now?
She does seem a little… manic. And her sense of triumph – and personal validation – at, as it were, releasing the inner queerness of eight-year-olds is quite a thing.
In the farm days of abundant gooseberries my grandmother whipped up a fool like none other. In attempting to conjure her magic for my son, all I got on the first spoonful was a four letter word and it was not “tart.’
…and other summer fruits? You do have fruit over there, don’t you?
Summer fruits? No, we only have fruit the whole year, and ship the surplus to places that don’t have sunshine but a couple days a year…
…as it were, releasing the inner queerness of eight-year-olds…
Only a fascist would call it grooming.
“Who are these parents letting their kids out on dates?!”
Our newly appointed head of Minitru has thoughts about hiking.
Should you be wafting around the local supermarket and pause to study some particularly intriguing items, may you never subsequently wander off pushing someone else’s trolley instead of your own, and continue for several minutes, blissfully unaware, resulting in somewhat belated and mortified apologies.
Trolley? Moving from the coastal area to the South here in America, I went from pushing around a “cart” in the supermarket to handling a “buggy.” As in, “Ah’m goin’ on down to the Piggly Wiggly to fetch me a buggy and do some shoppin’ . . .”
And . . . ping!
Our newly appointed head of Minitru has thoughts about hiking.
Neurotic and obnoxious. Pretty much what you’d expect, no?
And . . . ping!
Bless you, madam. May you know the flavour and texture of baked bacon, especially the rind.
Only a fascist would call it grooming.
When I think back to my eight-year-old self, engrossed by Lego and Marvel comics, the idea of some junior-school teacher pushing these conversations in class seems wildly incongruous and inapt. I was fairly precocious, but I’m pretty sure eight-year-old me had no interest in lesbianism.
…I’m pretty sure eight-year-old me had no interest in lesbianism.
Indeed, which makes one wonder if what anything that bint said was true or just crap she wishes “her kids” were saying. Given her level of histrionics, I am leaning towards the latter.
Not a headline you’ll see everyday.
No double cream? Dear God, it’s like the Dark Ages.
From Wikipedia:
UK: Double Cream: 48% fat (minimum).
US: Heavy Cream: >=36% fat. Manufacturer’s Cream: >=40% fat, not generally available at retail until recently.
I’m idly curious about those Brits who put cream in their coffee and tea: Do they generally use double cream, single cream, half cream? To the extent that I know about this, Americans seem to use Half and Half which is equivalent to your half cream.
Oh, FFS, the idiocy will never end.
Why, because the skeleton believed to be that of Richard III had scoliosis (that was apparently not a bad enough “disability” to preclude him from training as a knight and getting killed in battle)?
What disability would qualify an actor? A blind or deaf dude playing a dude with scoliosis? Maybe just one with a slight limp? I am afraid there are not enough true hunchbacks to play Quasimodo either, so that character is right out.
Oh, FFS, the idiocy will never end.
The idiocy will end when those opposed to it stand up, publicly and directly in the presence of said idiot and denounce the idiocy in no uncertain terms such that the perceived majority present acknowledge their loud and unequivocal approval of the denouncement. Until such time we will continue to slouch onward and downward in our own idiocy.
Not a headline you’ll see everyday.
Transgender people report severe childhood abuse, often childhood sexual abuse, at rates far higher than is found in the wider population. People who have been violated as children are in turn much more likely to have, shall we say, boundary issues and to act inappropriately with minors.
We had gooseberry bushes growing wild on the farm when I grew up here in Canaderp. The cows would strip mine the wild strawberries, the apple trees, even the raspberries. Never would they touch the gooseberries. Smart creatures, my old bovine friends.
They wouldn’t go near the THRICE CURSED rhubarb either. It grew wildly and obnoxiously like a malevolent miniature 100 Acre Wood. Having the noxious devils grass forced on me as a wee lad I do admit to sometimes tromping on parts of it as I went past and when questioned later, blaming poor ol’ Delilah, the Hereford matriarch.
Childhood was more complicated than I sometimes remember.
Never had ball and gag or pegging lessons at school though.
Such benighted times.