Friday Ephemera (817)
Misstep to remember. || A Trip to the Planets, 1963. || Trial and error. || Cleaving scenes. || Question asked. || Camouflage insufficient. || You must listen without questioning. || Not-so-small small intestines. || Teens. || Yes, it will be on the test. || Bra testing of note. || Briefly airborne. || A binary was detected. || Hungry bear encounters pigs. || Spray thoroughly. || Specialised sauce mop. || Not exactly helping his case, I fear. || The progressive retail experience, parts 728 and 729. || Why pigeons don’t rule the Earth. || A project was undertaken. || Do you want to see her nipples? || “Homer Simpson arse shoes.” || The science-fiction cover art of Richard M Powers. (h/t, Things) || Outdoor fun for all the family. || For oldies who miss dials. || And finally, on the ease of using international email, 1986.
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63 years on.
And Baviaan winked. He knew.
Patent-leather pig trotters.
They should shut the fuck up and sell furniture.
But I suppose that’s impossible, given that they’re Swedish.
Palate cleanser. . . so to speak.
Another pigeon.
ISWYDT
Yeah, don’t let’s abandon that last thread already, eh?
I blame the stairs.
Morning, all.
Artificial feet.
[ Slurps coffee. ]
Lesley Judd was my first crush.
The out-jutting bottom step is a bit of tripping hazard. Not sure what the thinking was there. It’s as if the stairs were an afterthought. And so we go from badly designed stairs to AUTODESTRUCT ENABLED in under two seconds.
I mean, the poor guy’s just starting his shift and suddenly finds himself having a Sigourney Weaver moment.
Not stressful at all.
Did the pigeon forget falcons eat pigeons?
Can’t help feeling that the pigeon incident is somehow symbolic of our times.
The pigeon had been told by other pigeons that he had pigeon privilege and falcons were a poor put upon minority so he was ‘showing up’ and ‘being an ally’. And also, dinner.
No.
Quite. The instruction – and the subsequent instructions, because of course there’s a list of things one must apparently acknowledge, needlessly rephrase, defer to, and atone for – would seem to translate as do as you’re told. Or, just lie like the rest of us. Or, become stupid.
So that can fuck off for a start.
As I said recently, I am for the most part, and contrary to rumour, an easy-going guy. Nice, even. But I don’t respond well to pernicious horseshit.
The look on the falcon’s face was priceless.
Parking is hard.
Who would do such a thing at a Catholic kindergarten graduation?
Oh, right . . .
I’m still processing the pyjamas and big fluffy slippers.
Well, I mean, it’s not something big, you know, like a high school graduation. It warrants something more . . . casual.
[ Smears hefty baking potatoes with butter, salt, Marmite. ]
[ Awaits outrage. ]
Indeed, at least we still have the dignity of the courts.
Seriously, though, it is hard to fathom why such behavior exists.
No, just a weary shaking of the head, some men you just can’t reach.
Half the world as an empire and all the real cuisine from which you could choose and the best someone could come with is scrapings from beer vats – a German notion at that.
Sad.
Thanks! I don’t recall seeing it, but probably did as my parents did all they reasonably could to expose us kids to all the pop science that they could. (Not to mention history, art, literature, etc.)
DoorDash? For me?
For the scifi geeks, a Star Wars version that would probably be worth watching.
[ Daubs more Marmite onto potatoes. ]
Have you considered maybe you need an exorcist?
I recall people saying that about Bock beer.
To make things even more scandalous, I’m cooking them in a combi microwave. Which I would’ve sneered at until recently, due to the patchy results of microwaving potatoes, the general heathenry, etc.
But this glorious piece of kit before me – a Panasonic 4-in-1 Airfryer Microwave – actually cooks baked potatoes remarkably well and in a fraction of the time.
My potatoes are being analysed as I type.
Does the Marmite make them straightjacket potatoes?
[ Grates cheese. ]
Saxon, perhaps, but the Brits were brewing long before the Hanoverians snaffled the land.
The real reason for the drinks price rise.
Meanwhile in Texas, which has a history of people and things developed in Germany, a House candidate has thoughts.
30 sodding years.
Regrettably, it being an Austin-area district, she’s a better shot at the nomination than one would think possible.
Light, bright, damn near white.
As a former, quite vocal sceptic of microwaving baked potatoes, I can – nay, must – admit that it does a very good job. And in just twenty minutes instead of 90 or so.
Should any readers in the UK be tempted, here’s a blog-supporting Amazon link.
Um, wasn’t Betty Boop meant to be white and, I believe, Jewish? And being a flapper girl, not quite so, um, solidly built.
I am now full of fluffy, very buttery potatoes. And fixings of various kinds.
So there.
You know you’re in a shit neighborhood when the restaurants have metal detectors.
Maybe old TX35, new de-Gerrymandered TX 35 is part of Bexar and some nearby counties and she barely beat the number two guy in a four horse race. Still, a lot of nuts in SA..
Not to worry, NHS has gastric lavage on standby.
It does appeal to her current fan base: Every Betty Boop t-shirt I’ve seen in recent years was being worn by a black female, usually of considerable heft.
Ah, in which case, I suppose it makes sense. Can’t say I have strong feelings on the casting of the character, beyond it fitting a broader pattern, to which we’re not supposed to object.