Overheads
Or, Return of the Honesty Box.
With domain renewal looming, along with umpteen other behind-the-scenes expenses, now seems a good time to remind patrons that where you are right now is made possible by the kindness of strangers. If you’d like to ensure this place exists a while longer, and remains ad-free, there are three buttons below the fold with which to monetise any love. Debit and credit cards are accepted.
If what happens here is of value, this is a chance to show it.
If one-click haste is called for, there’s a QR code in the sidebar, at which you point your phone camera, and my PayPal.Me page can be found here. As requested, there are SubscribeStar and Ko-Fi accounts, via which love may also be monetised, whether as one-off donations or monthly subscriptions. Should you be gripped by an urge to express encouragement via currency, by all means succumb.
Additionally, any Amazon UK shopping done via this link, or via the button in the sidebar, results in a small fee for your host at no extra cost to you.
It’s what keeps this place here.
For newcomers wishing to know more about what’s been going on here for close to nineteen years, in over 3,500 posts and hundreds of thousands of 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.
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.
Oh, and consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
Lookee, buttons.
Are you in need of a miracle?
[ Holds up staff. ]
There’s just one thing you must do first, my son.
[ Beckons mohel to step forward. ]
I’ll have a large one, barkeep.
And (ping!) have one yourself.
Bless you, sir. May you know where your air-fryer timing guide is.
And thanks to all who’ve chipped in so far, or subscribed, or done shopping via the Amazon link – including all those much too shy to say hello. I sometimes forget how many of you are lurking in the bushes, being very, very quiet.
It’s much appreciated and is what keeps this place here.
:::ping::: Think you can see your way to new bar towels? 😉
Nonsense. Plenty of mileage in these. It’s just…. natural discolouration.
Bless you, madam. May your cupboards be orderly, and your drawers.
[ Muffled sniggering. ]
That green colour is a reflection from the piles of dollars.
Funny, the photo at the link looks like a standard photovoltaic solar farm, not the field of mirrors at the Ivanpah Solar Power Facility. [ Laments the carelessness of journalists. Finds it increasingly difficult to resist day drinking. ]
If each film depicted just one 24 hour period MAYBE but, for the love of God, not one of those films covers just a day-in-the-life-of 007.
The so-called medical Journal of Australia should be shamed out of publication.
Likewise the British Medical Journal, the Lancet, and the New England Journal of Medicine.
According to Grok, the shortest in-universe timeframe is roughly a week, in Casino Royale, with adventures typically occurring over two or more weeks, the films generally being more compressed, time-wise, than the novels. And with each drink, or sip, generally occurring on a different date in a different location, often on a different continent, which rather implies some passing of time.
But saying Bond sipped an alcoholic beverage 4.5 times over some weeks seems unlikely to turn heads or induce fits of gasping. Which I’m assuming was the intent.