Tidings
Proctor’s Farm, painted by Peter Brook:
As is the custom here, posting will be intermittent over the holidays and readers are advised to follow me on X, or subscribe to the blog feed at the very bottom of the page, either of which will alert you to anything new as and when it materialises. Though Boxing Day seems a good bet.
Thanks for the company and the thousands of comments, many of which prompted discussions that are much more interesting than the actual posts. Which is pretty much the idea.
And particular thanks to all those who’ve made PayPal, Ko-Fi, or SubscribeStar donations to keep this rickety barge above water. It’s much appreciated. Should readers be overwhelmed with feelings of goodwill and an urge to express encouragement via currency, the tip jar buttons will relieve that terrible pressure.
Curious newcomers and those with nothing better to do are welcome to rummage through the Reheated series in search of entertainment. You may find things you’d missed. And this, needless to say, is an open thread.
To you and yours, a very good one.
And a reminder, were one needed, that parking is hard.
Oscar does Christmas music right.
Watching other people (trying to) park can drive you to drink.
It’s often somewhere between comedy and inexpressible aggravation. Depending, I suppose, on how in-the-way they are. Or whether yours is the car parked next to them.
Because that would chafe the cheeks.
Schastlivogo Rozhdestva!
On that note, continuing with the theme that Christmas music doesn’t have to be the same old same old, and inspired by the above…
For posterity -the unbearable whiteness of everything.
From skiing and sign language to birdwatching, lasagne, and the “free the nipple movement.”
White devils, everywhere!
Who can forget their brave stand at Bunker Hill? Politicians say the darndest things…
It wasn’t just that I came to find ST’s politics tiresome. I had become very tired of ST in general. If Arthur Conan Doyle had written a Sherlock Holmes story every week for decade after decade, I would have stopped reading them, too.
My very first thought was “Oscar Peterson or Oscar the Grouch?” I would probably enjoyed the humor of Oscar the Grouch but Oscar Peterson is always sublime.
A good reason to park farther from the store entrance.
And yet even when I do that, with numerous empty spaces all around me, I will sometimes return to find a wanker parked right next to me. “Why?” is the unanswerable question.
They lie like breathing.
They lie like breathing.
Nonsense, if it weren’t for the Somalis we’d all be speaking English now.
Don’t forget the Duke.
Spike Jones enters the chat.
The Duke?
On empathy, as conceived, wrongly, by progressives.
A subject we’ve touched on before.
Only £19:50.
Cabbage with… burnt cabbage?
[ Watches Other Half prepping his six-hour brisket. ]
From the comments:
Meanwhile, “progressives” think of nothing else but themselves. They have weaponized so-called empathy into a selfish, sick form of narcissism. They go as far as to project the proper feelings onto “victims’ who just don’t think right. Consider how they say that a Black conservative isn’t actually Black. That’s not empathy.
Who said the Cheney’s were conservative?
As dishes go, it’s a tad cabbage-heavy.
I mean, I don’t dislike cabbage – there is a place in the world for it, preferably with garlic and pepper – but it’s not exactly the centrepiece or anchor of a good feed.
Caramelized cabbage, as with onions and even to some extent Brussels sprouts, is very good. Sometimes I slice a cabbage head into steaks, spray them with olive oil and balsamic, season with salt and pepper and sometimes Italian seasoning or onion powder, and grill them next to our steaks or burgers. My wife sautées them with onions and sausage as well.
Assertion: Diana Rigg fans are all women and gay men.
I dunno. Is this catagorical opinionizing by yet another blogger seeking clicks, or does he have a point?
I’ll withhold judgement because I don’t know nearly enough fans for a reasonable sample set. What’s more, I was too young for shows like The Avengers when it premiered and we didn’t have a TV anyway. When I was made aware of it in the 70’s by serious fans it did not spark my interest.
Bubble and squeak was unavailable for comment.
I’ll just leave this here. For reference purposes, obviously.
I’ve got that album. It’s wonderful!
I started watching but couldn’t continue. Breaks my brain.
[ Writes down Boxing Day, bubble and squeak. ]
That’s sort of what I mean. It’s funny, or at least absurd, but quite maddening too.
Way to go, mom!
Scratch book stores from the list of sanctuaries.
It’s like watching Muldoon trying to insert an HTML link in a post.
It’s like watching Muldoon trying to insert an HTML link in a post.
I can insert real HTML till the cows come home, sometimes I forget to imagine I am a millennial or Gen Z booger eating moron (BIRM) whilst using the idiot buttons.
That and forgetting to ground the polyester pants.
I’ve got that album. It’s wonderful!
Oscar is amazing, this whole thing is insane.
It’s moments like this when I give thanks that people forget about my HTML errors. Perhaps because “Muldoon” is more mellifluous than “pst314″…or perhaps because never wear polyester.
The problem is where you insert it, sir.
Wheeee!
…or perhaps because never wear polyester.
That is as may be, but even if you did your hoop skirt frame works as a Faraday cage.
I always wondered about your clothing but was too polite to ask.
Remember the MIT study of the effectiveness of various styles of tinfoil hat?
Merry Christmas, all.
[ Slurping of coffee. ]
We don’t all forget.
Just sayin’.
[ Opens enormous file of commenters’ mortifying HTML screw-ups. ]
Merry Christmas, host and heathens.
Yes, except that Santa will do it first.
(via one of our old friends)
Attn: Stephanie
Merry Christmas from the land where Orange is King. Still 74F and sunny.