And so we begin Self-Isolation Week 4:
But let’s not dwell on that, and bring on Teh Funny, the first of which was supplied to me by Reader Old Texan (thankee):
Remember the good old days, when we actually used to go to work?
…and something we all know:
But never fear:
And seeing as we’re wandering down that road:
And one final reminder: remember to maintain social distancing!! Like this:
…and not like this:
There are times when I’m glad I’m not a Rich Bastard (a.k.a. Powerball winner) because I just know that after I’d bought a decent house, traveled a bit, bought a few guns (stop laughing) and settled down, I would undoubtedly get drawn into the world of car auctions.
So here’s this weekend’s “just suppose” game, assuming that your circumstances are as above.
You have several (hundreds of?) thousands of dollars that are burning a hole in yer wallet, and one day you come across this fiendish event.
Wait awhile to browse this page, while I outline what we’re going to be talking about today.
One of the things I like about events of this nature is the variety of stuff to be auctioned, because it takes away the usual “Which Ferrari would I pick?” question. Here, you could indulge your taste not just for the exotic, but for the historic, eclectic, or even weird, e.g.:
And so, Gentle Readers, the only question to be asked is this:
In order of preference, which five cars or motorcycles would you bid on?
Remember, money is no object — we’re talking about scratching a lifelong itch, or checking off an item on Ye Olde Bucquette Lyste. So go ahead and make your selections, and assume that all are in roadworthy condition and could be driven home, if need be. You could decide on five supercars; one supercar, two vintage and a weird car; three saloon cars, a supercar and a one-of-a-kind car; or a campervan, two sports cars and two motorcycles — whatever, the five choices are all yours.
(Note: if you click on a car to read about it, you have to use the “Back” ( <– ) button to return to the main page.)
Starting on Monday, I’ll be revealing my five choices one at a time, one per day, with reasons.
Sent to me by Mr. Free Market:
Truly, a sad situation.
Mr. FM is of course self-isolating, but there’s self-isolation, and then there’s self-isolation in Free Market Towers:
And the Free Markets are adapting, as any Stout Bulldogs will. I’m told that Mrs. FM now uses a 6-foot bullwhip to administer the servants’ weekly flogging, so as to observe the proper degree of social distancing.
Ordinarily at this time of year, we would be regaling ourselves with our annual Train Smash Women Extravaganza (i.e. Ladies Day at the Grand National at Aintree, Liverpool).
Unfortunately, this year’s event has been canceled because of the Chink Flu, so in desperation, the newspapers have resorted to measures such as this:
Despite cancelling the annual Grand National races due to the ongoing public health risk surrounding coronavirus, organisers of the event are adamant on enabling the races to still make their mark. They’re encouraging virtual racegoers to don their Sunday best and submit pictures of their outfits for consideration in its best-dressed awards.
Until now, only racegoers with tickets for the Aintree event have been able to enter the competition. But this year anyone is eligible to enter, simply by submitting a photograph of themselves in their outfit via the Ladies’ Day Facebook event page here. [link omitted]
This isn’t going to work, for obvious reasons. The fun part about Aintree is not the outfits; whenever the papers talk about “fashion stakes” and such, they’re always careful to picture the women as they arrive at the event, e.g.:
However, as any fule kno, the real entertainment only starts after the racecourse bars have been open for a couple hours, whereupon those carefully-groomed ladies turn quickly into Train Smash Women:
If all we’re going to get this year is fashion pics, then… pass, even though some of the outfits can be ummmm interesting:
But if the girls get into the spirit of the thing this year and get shitfaced before taking selfies in their homes, we’re in for a treat. If they’re like the above in public, imagine the scenario in private.
I’ll monitor the situation (because somebody has to), but I suspect that the papers won’t publish any good ones.
Apparently, Villanelle is self-conscious:
Killing Eve star Jodie Comer might be one of the most successful actresses in the world, but she admits to having insecurities on set. The 27-year-old said she struggles playing sexy characters and admits she feels most at home playing a character while make-up free.
Just so we’re all on the same page — Killing Eve was a nice surprise; I thought it was going to be dire — so, as a public service to any Readers who haven’t seen the show, let’s examine the evidence. Here’s Jodie all dressed up and looking sexy:
…and here she is in her preferred style:
Lovely, both ways.
From Ace:
Imagine a company with an old Pentium III computer with 16MB RAM out in the warehouse running Windows XP because it has some application that can’t be upgraded. Internet Explorer has 19 browser tabs open, 17 of which are locked up, 8 search bars are installed, and there’s music coming from somewhere. Response time is nearly at a standstill and adware pop-ups are randomly spitting our WTF crap.
And that’s Joe Biden. The man the Dems want to be president.
Excellent description. All he needs is occasional power brownouts, and it’s perfect.