For newcomers, some items from the archives:
Hard To Tell If It’s Going Well.
The thrill of atomised dairy products.
Here, let me bring you artistic sustenance, with some “performance documentation” from Manhattan’s Grace Exhibition Space. The mighty talent featured in the following video is artist, educator and “community organiser” Alex Romania, whose work teeters on the edge of profundity, as will doubtless become clear, via juddering and convulsion, and the strategic deployment of twenty-five pounds of powdered cheese.
New Niche Indignation.
On transgender dinner parties, where competitive upset is the sweetest dish.
Readers are invited to ponder the prospect of a dinner party at which, in order to be polite and suitably affirming, you’re obliged to insinuate that the host is rapist material. And to do it convincingly. Rather than, say, compliment the cooking or the décor.
Sudden-Onset Womanhood.
On gender-bending Bond and other modern wonders.
We’re also told, “A gendered spin on the character can open up more potential for exploring Bond’s individuality.” And this exploration of the character’s individuality will apparently be achieved by erasing a rather fundamental aspect of the character – his maleness – and replacing him with an entirely different person of a different sex.
Readers are invited to ponder whether similar transitions might enrich the character of, say, Miss Marple, who, via similar logic, could be depicted as male, and as always having been male. Thereby exploring her individuality.
Answers on a postcard, please.
The recent, sex-swapped iteration of Doctor Who is invoked as a “positive example” on this front, as if Jodie Whittaker’s brief, unloved manifestation had been a rip-roaring success – despite the terrible writing and wildly unpopular retconning, both loudly derided by fans, and despite the subsequent, rapid death-spiral of viewing figures. Because boring and alienating much of your audience, and shrinking it dramatically, is a political triumph. A breath of “new life.”
Big City Dreams.
On London’s struggling artists. Terms I use loosely.
At which point, readers may suspect that the imperative is not so much being creative, but being creative
in London, a notoriously expensive city, but in which one can draw attention to the fact that one lives and works in London, a notoriously expensive city. Thereby glowing with a kind of location status.
Readers may also note the article’s, shall we say, coyness regarding the art on offer – all that cruelly underfunded creativity. None of which is displayed to sway readers of the Observer. The nearest we get is a photo of Ms Kwan standing next to a creation that we cannot actually see, and a photo of Grayson Perry in a hideous frock.
Our Betters Stroke Their Pets.
The hounds of love.
Other questions generated by means of Queer Theorising include, “Do I think I’m having sex with my dogs when they kiss my face?” Apparently, for Dr Kathy Rudy, a Professor of Women’s Studies, being licked by a dog is difficult to distinguish from kissing grandma on the cheek or being lost in a full-on erotic fever. And thus, we’re told, “The line between ‘animal lover’ and zoophile is not only thin, it is non-existent.”
For those craving more, The Year Reheated is a pretty good place to start.
Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
All this time I thought it was a weed.
Regarding which, I thought I’d repost this from a link in the original thread:
See? My rabbit holes do have their uses.
[ Resumes slightly farcical stretching exercises. ]
The older we get, the more important such exercises are.
What the hell? Is the BBC recruiting paedos now?
[ Sudden recollection ]
I wonder if there is a bit of a connection to the mindsets of the fans I used to know long ago who took great delight in “freaking the mundanes”.
And all at no extra charge.
I suspect it’s largely a result of spending so much time sitting here gassing with you heathens.
So, in a way, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.
Just sayin’.
It’s quite something, isn’t it? And so, those tasked with writing a teatime, kid-friendly science fiction series include a Nigerian race-activist poet who dresses like a third-world dictator, and a mentally ill man who dresses as a woman and wants children to use sex apps.
No excuses, David.
British cuisine. Best in the world.
The British Isles Represented as an Euler Diagram
Peek-a-boo
History Debunked weighs in.
Part two of Ridley Scott’s walkthrough of Alien.
Previously.
Now it’s . . . weedier?
What do you mean ‘now’?
Is the BBC recruiting paedos now?
After things like the Jimmy Savile and Stuart Hall cases, I think the word you are looking for is “still”
There’s something about the combination of chip-shop gravy, mushy peas and polystyrene that just doesn’t entice.
Food snob that I am.
And in fly-the-skies-in-confidence news:
Diversity is our strength, you hear?
I’m betting it’s the thong that caused this.
Oh, you said Griffon. Sorry.
Band name.
Also get well soon.
Chip-shop Gravy for the band name, Mushy Peas and Polystyrene for the first album.
Unlike yesterday, which entailed much howling and a burly paramedic, today I managed a walk to the bins.
Achievement unlocked, as they say.
I’ve had surprising relief from inflammation induced pain in my hands using a CBD balm. It seemed to help my wife’s back as well. Never taken the pill form but the topical seemed to work fairly well. I’m a bit of a reverse-placebo effect person as my general attitude is this-isn’t-gonna-work. Aspirins and acetaminophen, etc. have virtually zero effect on me that I have ever noticed but this stuff has surprised me. Was a bit expensive at $50 but we’ve been using it off and on for two months now. Only when the pain got annoying. I seem to be using it less and less and I’m barely half way through it.
For sciatica I’m not sure if a topical substance would help. I have had minor sciatica issues, mostly due to long trips in a car or such. I was thinking on our next trip if it got bad enough I might try the pill form. Just have yet to have the occasion to do so.
From the BBC, via Mark Steyn:
One would hope DOGE stands for Decimation of Government Employees but one in ten seems insufficient.
Never had much luck with topicals. Supine on a hard surface & slowly stretching the leg involved has worked best for me. YMMV.
If he starts licking his hands, summon a constable. We don’t want any reefer-huffing beatnik types round here.
During yesterday’s dramas, the burly paramedic had me spend a minute or two inhaling a mix of oxygen and what I assume was nitrous oxide, which, while getting me quite high – much to The Other Half’s amusement – had no effect of any kind on the pain. Which was at the time – and do let me stress this – the most pressing issue.
Being high, but without any of the customary pleasantness – and still being in excruciating pain – is an odd experience. Not sure I could recommend it.
Oh. Those are peas. Or were. Never mind…
I saw the Mushy Peas at the Polystyrene Amphitheater back in ’83. Good times, good times.
Or this. Good eye.
The FAA has various other responsibilities, so I dunno.
Ecstasy works.
Isn’t mushy peas what they used instead of real vomit in The Exorcist?
Mmmm, demon vomit.
Heh. Yes, it does, as I recall, at least temporarily and in a pinch. But not exactly ideal as a long-term solution.
Back in the Nineties, I had a wisdom tooth emerging – and pressing against an existing molar. Very painful and unrelenting, which is exhausting. As it occurred on a Friday night, and with no realistic prospect of seeing a dentist over the weekend, I resorted to less official avenues. It was quite interesting. The sensation, the information, was still there, its position and intensity remained the same, but its psychological impact was completely changed. The sensation changed colour, as it were. From a painful red to a neutral beige.
But again, not ideal.
Heavy metal band name.
Band name.
And in race-hustling leech news.
Note the obligatory “conservatives seized” line.
That fat gal and the Lyft? Taking up the entire back of an SUV, if she could get into the back seat of anything smaller than a 1980 Coupe de Ville, getting her out would be high adventure. Don’t think this is something her lawyers would want seen.
(language, of course, it is a “rap song”)
…Polystyrene…
with apologies to Lennon & McCartney
I don’t want to be the one who tells Mr Muldoon he’s up-buggered his link.
Of course the Link-O-Matic 9000™ cut off part of it, probably because you switched to the gold lame thong which is causing atmospheric bounce.
All this time I thought it was a weed.
The white trillium is the official flower of the Province of Ontario. I had no idea it had been adopted as a bisexual symbol. I’m certain they could have found a more “bi” oriented symbol–the trillium is “tri” oriented. It’s in the name.
Don’t think this is something her lawyers would want seen.
I don’t know. There could be sponsorship money in this. Monroe shock absorbers, perhaps.
Activist wankers: it is interesting that if some conservative activists were to inject their ideas into a movie on say God, patriotism, family, lawfulness, this would be fascism or something. A recognition that people have different values…not there.
Midwits video: very interesting. It may in fact be due to sending everyone to college and grade inflation so everyone thinks they are an A student. It is also from placing too much wt on politics. If you feel secure in belonging to a church, a small town, and a big family, not so much need to posture and one-up. If all your sense of meaning comes from politics, then your very identity comes from whether your party wins or not. Hence screaming in the street.
I’m now wondering whether any mortal seat belt could accommodate Madam’s ampleness. Are Lyft drivers now obliged to carry 28 metres of reinforced polyester webbing?
Are Lyft drivers now obliged to carry 28 metres of reinforced polyester webbing?
In one of the comment threads I read, someone said that the car was designed to carry 5 people weighing between 150 and 200 pounds so it should carry her. Someone, who understands physics, pointed out the principle of pounds per square inch. No car was built to carry 5 people weighing between 150 and 200 pounds sitting in the same spot on top of each other.
This is the sort of cargo that pallets were invented for.