Update / No Update

As I have no good or indeed any news about the Comments / No Comments debacle, here are a couple pics of women showing off their respective superstructures.

Amanda Holden:

Kelly Brook:

Someone named Toni Garrn (no, I don’t know, either):

And Lana del Ray:

I hope this makes up for the lack of Commentary…

Going With The Flo

Florence Welch (minus The Machine), that is.  Here she is at some awards thing:

However, that’s not what I wanted to write about at all, but my train of thought was shunted onto a branch line by her rather striking appearance (and the red hair).

If you go to the article which features her and read all the way down to the category winners, however, I have this to say:  apart from Adele and (I think) Ed Sheeran, and apart from the obvious oldies, I have not heard a single one of the contemporary songs, nor even any song by the nominated artists.  Not one.  (I tried to listen to a Taylor Swift song once, but I quit before the end of the first chorus.)

Now, the songs may have been playing as background music at the mall or blasting from some lowered Honda Civic at the traffic light, but I certainly did not identify them with any of the listed singers/bands.

I think I’ll go and listen to a Soundgarden or Chopin album, or something.

Just Wrong

I don’t follow any kind of professional fighting (boxing, MMA, whatever) so I first thought Paige VanZant was Ronnie’s daughter or something.  Of course, I was wrong, about that anyway, as she’s quite well-known in fighting circles:

Okay, she cleans up pretty nicely, albeit in that not-quite-trailer-park kinda way:

But that’s not what’s upsetting me.  This is:

What the hell kind of gun is young Paige holding?  It looks like she’s about to shoot one of those USPS book-boxes.

Yeah, I know, it’s a Kriss Vector (sounds like an old Marvel villain’s name), and all the cool kids are shooting them.

My feelings on all these modernistic guns is, I think, well known;  but seriously?  This is uglier than a USPS book-box.  1960’s-era Buck Rogers Mattel toy comes to mind.

And all this at $1,600 just to shoot the silly 9mm Europellet?  Pass.

I need to get my busted M1 Carbine to the gunsmith.

Doesn’t look as cool as the Mattel thingy, but mine also has a 15-round (non-Glock) magazine (which isn’t relevant as I don’t own a Glock pistol anyway).

And I’ll take the .30 Carbine over the 9mmP every day of the week.

Hidden Gem

I am, as Regular Readers are aware, a huge fan of gloomy Scandi detective shows.  My latest binge was The Killing (on Prime), which I devoured, all twenty hours of it, over a couple days last week.

*Disclaimer:  I know that Denmark isn’t regarded as a Scandi country.  As far as I’m concerned, any country on the western shores of the Baltic which has damp, freezing, miserable weather, gets dark at about 4pm, and features actors speaking a language which sounds like a chicken with its throat half-cut, is a Scandi country.  Also, if the heroine detective — they’re all heroine detectives;  all the men are idiots, clowns or bad guys — is halfway between plain and ugly, and the plot is dense and contains about five different story lines, then it’s a Scandi detective movie.

As was The Killing, in absolutely every respect.

However, in this show I saw something out of the ordinary:  a woman with quite a large part, who was not halfway between plain and ugly.  Let me introduce you all to Marie Askehave:

In the TV show, she has coal-black hair which shows off those startling blue eyes to perfection:

Also, she’s one of those women who doesn’t do well in still photos — in a movie medium, though, she’s captivating.

The show’s good, too.


Lest anyone thinks I’m going overboard about plain-to-ugly Scandi female detectives, here’s The Killing‘s lead, Sofie Gråbøl:


…and that’s a studio pic — she looks far worse in the show.

Under My Radar

TV things I have never watched, and are unlikely ever to watch:

  • MMA (of either sex)
  • Deadpool
  • Fast & Furious
  • Haywire
  • The Mandalorian

…and I’ve also never bothered to read Maxim magazine.

It is unsurprising, therefore, that I had no idea who Gina Carano was until I discovered her existence on one of my many branch line forays into the bowels of the Internet (shuddup, I’m trying to write lyrical stuff here in describing a totally boring activity).

But discover her I did, and I have to say that if your type is earthy, stocky Mediterranean types with an excellent superstructure (e.g. Salma Hayek), then this Carano creature is right up your whatsit, so to speak:

And anyone tossed out of the loathsome Disney Corp for daring to voice unpopular opinions is welcome at this website at any time.