Evolution

In my innocence, I always imagined that evolution was a Good Thing, in that v.2.0 would always be an improved version of v.1.9.9, and so on.  (Of course, that belief has been massively degraded by having to deal with software companies, but that’s for another time.)

I understand, therefore, that evolution is not necessarily an improvement, but by and large it has proven to be so — a 2021 Corvette is a much better car than its 1961 ancestor, at least mechanically speaking.  As for its shape?  I’ll let you decide:

Regardless of the shape change (ugh), I think we can agree that the 2021 model performs much better than the 1961 model, mechanically speaking, because let’s be honest, engine technology, materials and things like suspension- and brake technology are better now than they were sixty years ago.  And even the modern shape is no doubt far more efficient in terms of air management than the older one, so at least there’s that.

Now let’s talk about guns.  Here we have a situation where the technology has hardly changed at all, materials have improved somewhat, but (say) a .22 pistol’s operation and efficiency have stayed pretty much the same.

So sixty-odd years ago we had .22 pistols that looked like the High Standard and Beretta:

 

…which, I think we can all agree, did an excellent job of putting the boolet into its intended destination.  Modern pistols, of course, do just as good a job of that — pistols like the FN and SIG:

 

…but for all their improved technology and materials, they somehow end up looking like a dog’s ass.

To return to the cars for a moment, it’s as though the Corvette:

…somehow ended up looking like this:

I know, I can hear y’all now:  “The old fart’s lost it again, jabbering about the Good Ole Days.”

Yeah, maybe.

But I’d still rather own a Beretta 101 than any of the current crop of .22 hand-bricks.

And to wrap this whole train of thought up, I want somebody to explain how ideals of female beauty like this:

…have somehow evolved into this:

Same form, same basic functions between the two models… but ugh.  No thank you.

Random Totty

She started off as a singer in a band named “Hear’Say” (wouldn’t recognize any of their songs in a month of Sundays, but nemmind).  Then she left the band to start her solo career (sorry, don’t know any of those either).  But Kym Marsh was quite a hottie:

Now she’s in her mid-40s, and I have to say she’s not too horrible:

I mean, yes there are those ‘orrible tattoos, but what the hell, she did come from Liverpool after all:

And all her parts are in the correct order, as far as I can see:

Like I said, not too horrible, all things considered.

Classic Beauty: Claire Dodd

Let us ponder the mysteries of life, such as how someone like Claire Dodd could have lived at the same time as Eleanor Roosevelt without a rending of the time/space continuum.

Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Here’s Claire, first as a youngin:

And then in her prime:

Now compare that with any photograph of Eleanor Roosevelt (no, I’m not going to do it, find your own pic), and get back to pondering.

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.