Oscar Peterson and Joe Pass: “Beauty in a world of junk”, as one comment has it.
Or to go beck to more roots-y stuff:
And then there’s the (very long)
Enjoy.
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Bygone Broads
These are not of the Classical Beauty ilk — although many would qualify if they’d been around in the B&W era — but rather, have featured as the objects of desire of teenage boys, and therefore would have been on wall posters in the aforesaid’s foul bedrooms, next to those of the Lamborghini Countach and Ferrari Testarossa.
Nowadays, of course, teenage boys’ bedroom walls contain posters of cartoon characters like Iron Man, Star Wars and crap like that. I don’t know where or even if boys have posters of beautiful women — on the micro-screens of their poxy phones, most likely.
Here’s a sample of what I’m talking about:
Lucy Pinder
…et cetera. More of this type upon request.
Pure Everything
Take a couple hours out of your evening, and see what you get when you obey no rules other than the ones you set for yourself, and make absolutely no compromises, anywhere.
And all this happened in 1993.
Brilliant.
Then came the sequel. And a trip through Gordon’s Garage, via the T.50(s) racing car. (You would never guess what Murray’s “daily driver” car is — but it has featured on this website before.)
By the way, you should watch the last episode especially, because it’s going to form the basis for a massive series of posts from me.
Unnecessary
Here’s one from the NRA:
How to Introduce Senior Citizens to Shooting
In many cases (including mine) the problem is to discourage senior citizens from shooting.
Oh wait, they’re talking about shooting at paper targets.
Nemmind.
Been There
Oh hell… now EVERYBODY’S going to go there:
Historic pubs are plentiful but few can lay claim to the tag in quite the same way as The George in Norton St Philip, near Bath. Dating from 1397, it’s the oldest tavern in Britain, locals say. It’s certainly a contender, and its timber frame, wonky floors and ancient galleried courtyard all ooze authenticity.
I once went there and had lunch en route to the Far West of Hardy Country:
Yes, they serve Messrs. Wadworth’s 6X, and the lamb chops were exquisite.
It’s not just The George, either. The village of Norton St. Philip is likewise beautiful beyond words:
The Englishman is of similar mind, now that the foul Daily Mail has featured it: “Haven’t been there for ages, I might wait a few weeks now.”
A few weeks. Gawd knows how long it’ll be before I get back there, but at least the crowds might have dispersed by then. And unlike last time, I’ll stay overnight (or longer) so that I don’t have to drive under the influence of the aforementioned 6X.
I love England.
Speed Bump #3,055
In an otherwise-enjoyable article, The Federalist saith:
“Beginning in 2016, the Democratic Party descended into the politics of hystericism.”
The word you are looking for (or should have been looking for) is hysteria. It’s a perfectly good word, has all sorts of linguistic roots, and should not be subjected to Jesse Jackson-style orotundity.
