Menacing Talent

I see with sadness that veteran Brit actor David Warner has gone to join the Choir Invisibule, and the screen has lost one of its better character actors in consequence.

My favorite of his roles is in the (apparently-forgotten) time-travel piece, Time After Time, in which he played Jack The Ripper to Malcolm McDowell’s H.G. Wells (storyline here).

What I loved about this movie was that when H.G Wells (the good guy) is transported from his comfortable Victorian life forward to modern-day San Francisco, he finds it incredibly difficult to cope.  Not so for the Ripper (Warner), who finds that evil transcends culture and, for that matter, time as well — and among San Francisco’s prostitute population, he has an even greater choice of victims than in 19th-century London.  And Warner is beyond-words excellent in the role.


I Hate This

From City Journal:

Restaurants supply physical nourishment, but their ultimate contribution to life is spiritual. From the bonds forged with dining partners to the camaraderie shared with fellow patrons to the banter exchanged with staff, dining out is a social, aesthetic experience. But QR codes are ruining it. More than a superficial nuisance, they are a sign of cultural decline.

Whenever I go to a restaurant and am confronted with this nonsense, I ignore it and demand to get a paper menu.  Usually, I get strange looks from the staff and eventually get a plain photocopied list, with no pictures of the dishes.

Suits me fine;  I know what a burger looks like, ditto schnitzel, ditto spaghetti bolognaise, ditto pretty much everything I care to eat.

Although it hasn’t happened yet, if I’m ever told that I can only order a meal through my phone, I’ll get up and walk out.  I hate using my fucking phone at the best of times, and to sit there squinting at a list of dishes in tiny type with microscopic pictures is guaranteed to put me  in a terrible mood — not the ideal customer a restaurant wants, because then I’m going to find fault with almost everything that happens thereafter.

I’ve already griped about concrete walls/floors and loud music, so I’m not going to repeat it all here.

I know all about the cost of labor and the difficulty in finding decent waiters and waitresses nowadays, and I don’t care.  I want the personal touch when I go out to eat, and you can forget that drive-through shit, too — hell, if I ever go to a fast-food restaurant (a highly infrequent event), I park the car and walk inside to place my order.

I was never a fan of “casual dining” to begin with, other than as a family/friends event, or being out of town where I have no option.  But as this move towards impersonal- and remote service seems to be growing, the less likely I’m going to be found eating out.

A pox on all of them, and on this so-called modern life.

The Return Of The Tiggy

Phew.  Turns out the problem with the Tiguan’s engine was not serious — just needed new plugs and coil, so less than $400.  Had the brake fluid replaced and an oil change while it was there, so I picked it up on Saturday morning and it runs like a sewing machine again.

Question:  is it reasonable for spark plugs to last ~100,000 miles?  (They were the premium-priced ones I had installed right after I bought the car back in 2016.)

Of course, they tried to build the ticket by suggesting that my rear brakes were getting thin — but I pointed out that a) the car passed state inspection only three weeks ago, and b) I drive like an old lady anyway, never braking hard unless an emergency looms.

True story:  Some years ago (don’t remember which car it was), the first time I ever braked hard and the ABS kicked in, I thought my brakes had broken so I took off to the dealer quickly.  When I explained the situation the mechanic looked at me like I was from another planet and said:  “You’ve owned this car for over ten years, driven it every day, and you’ve never had to use the ABS?”  I hadn’t.  Didn’t even know what ABS stood for — some kind of magic, I guess.

Almost, But Not Quite

Frequent Contributor Mike L. sends me this snippet:

GM on Friday unveiled the Cadillac Celestiq, previewing an upcoming car that will cost $300,000 or more when it goes into production by late 2023. The car marks a pivot for Cadillac into hand-built vehicles, which are typically reserved for high-end sports cars and uber-luxury models.

And I have to admit that for the modern style of car, it’s not too horrible:

Still as ugly as shit, but no worse than the new Rollers.

Of course, then we come to the real dog-turd in the ice cream:

Cadillac is calling the vehicle its new “all-electric flagship sedan.”

And there I was thinking that a decent 7.2-liter V12 engine would make this a worthy entrant into the hand-built car sector…

Hard pass, Cadillac.  Wouldn’t accept one for free, let along have to cough up 300 big ones for a battery-powered car.  Celestiq it up your Detroit assholes.

Monday Funnies

‘Nuff said.  So, crack a smile:

…and let’s get going:

Well, enough of that silly stuff.  Here’s today’s history lesson:

Pics Of The First-Ever Bikini (Paris, 1946)



Micheline Bernardini was the model.

Feel more educated?