Month: December 2018

News Roundup

Funny Stuff

Stuff I noticed over the past week or so:

Rome is blanketed in putrid smoke and residents are told to stay indoors.  I’m surprised anyone noticed.

Nigella does post-Christmas recipes.  Amazingly, some of them look quite tasty (unlike her usual offerings, which make me gag).

Company figurehead caught beating up his pregnant girlfriend.  Australia:  ’nuff said.

The I.R.S. is being gutted by budget cuts.  Good.  All the more reason to eliminate the corporate- and income taxes and replace them with an end-user (national sales) tax.

Nearly one in five men fantasize about having sex with a robot.  If the feministicals continue with their nonsense, expect this number to increase.

And finally:

Artificial steak tastes 70% like the real thing, and will cost about $60.  Make them mandatory for vegans, and serve them right.  I, however, will just stick with something like this:  

And now, if you’ll excuse me…

Peerless

Friday Feature, Movies

If I could play one indoor game very well, it would be snooker (not pool).  And should you want to know who I’d like to play as well as, it’s Ronnie O’Sullivan.  For your Friday night movie, here is the man himself absolutely demolishing his opponent in a best-of-nine competition.  (Hint:  it doesn’t go to nine games.)  As any good snooker player will tell you, it’s not sinking the ball that’s important, it’s where you leave the cue ball for your next shot, and in terms of skill, Ronnie’s like Tiger, but with better smeeking:

      

But this is the expression that his opponents dread seeing:

So pour yourself a drink, sit back, and enjoy the next three-quarters of an hour, seeing a man on top of his game.

Seen At The Carwash

Entertainment

I never read celebrity trash [some overlap]  magazines unless I’m in a waiting room and there’s nothing else to read except for magazines that will make me grow breasts just by touching them.  And even then, I page quickly through crap like People, Us and Entertainment Weekly, playing a game with myself as to how few of the “celebrities” I can actually recognize.  (My current score is roughly 5%, and that only because some 70s musicians occasionally make the presses, see below.)

A couple of days ago I was waiting for the Mexicans to finish cleaning my car, and the only magazine to read was (I think) People, and I thought I’d share just a couple samples of their fare:

“I’ve never given 60 seconds of my life to those Housewives of Blah Blah and the Kardashians.  I don’t know their names.”  — Jon Bon Jovi

Me neither.  Well, to be honest, I do know some of the Kardashian coven (Kim, Kris and Kunty), but that’s about it.  But thankfully, all the “real” housewives are a complete blank to me.

Then there is a feature called “5 Things We’re Talking About“… oy.  Here are a couple examples:

1 )  Prince George is taking ballet lessons.  And according to his dad William, “he loves it”.  These, lest we forget, are the two future kings of Great Britain, King Gormless I and the Gay-King Georgie-Boy.  How special.

3 )  Some Australian billionaire is funding the building of a complete replica of the Titanic, only with (and I quote), “more lifeboats and modern navigation equipment”.  Just to be on the safe side, the new Titanic should still operate only in the Southern Pacific because of you-know-what.

There was more, oh so much more, but then Ricardo called out that my car was all done.  Boy, was it ever — it looked brand new.

I gave him a good tip*.  I told him never to read People magazine.  He’ll thank me for it one day.

*Also $10.  He did a great job.

 

5 Worst Things Santa Said To Your Kid At The Mall

Friday Feature, The Worst

In ascending order of ugliness:

  • “Hurry up and ask, Lakesha, ‘cos Santa’s gotta go pee.”
  • “No, Olivia, I don’t have a hot dog in my pocket.”
  • “Jimmy, could you just scootch up just a little further?  Oh, yes, yes, yessss…”
  • “I’ll get you that bicycle, as long as you don’t tell your momma what Santa just did with his finger.”
  • “No, Freddie, that’s not eggnog on Santa’s pants.”

Your suggestions in Comments.

Mum’s Car

Drive Time

My mother once had one of these:

Owners of Morris Minors (boasting a top speed of just 63mph, and taking more than 30 seconds to get to 60mph) are among the most prolific drug and drink drivers, a new study suggests.

And it looked exactly like this one:

I think hers had a single windshield, not a split one, but I could be wrong.  She loved it dearly, and was distraught when my father secretly sold it, replacing it with one of these:

She kept the Austin-Healey for almost a year, then forced my father to get rid of it, “because the men keep looking at me and flirting” — which tells you all about my mother.  Its replacement?  An Austin 1100:

…which she kept for years until I wrecked it in 1971 (sorry, Ma).

Anyway, about that drunken Morris Minor driver thing:  I suspect that it’s because most Minor drivers today are old farts, who suffer from impaired reflexes and decaying driving skills as well as a tendency to drink lots of gin.

I want to drive a Morris Minor then, because I fit the profile perfectly.  But I want the Traveller model, complete with wood (which is real wood, by the way):

I bet I could pull the chicks* with that beauty, big time.

* of my own vintage, that is.