Wrong Categories

As I wrote only yesterday about the silliness of pubs allowing children inside their premises, and on many occasions about my permanent dislike of the whole “gastropub” nonsense, you can imagine my irritation upon reading this article about Britain’s best pubs, and finding the following results:

Best Pub For Families
and
Best Pub For Food

Bloody hell;  two anger buttons for the price of one article.

But wait!  there’s more!

Best Pub For Dogs

I need a drink.  Thanks to the article though, there are at least three pubs I know not to visit.

Now It’s “NO Feet”?

What the hell has become of the yoot of today?  (I know, it’s a common plaint.)  Via Insty, I see this strange paradigm:

Generation Z, the generation born between 1997 and 2012, is now occupying high schools across the country, and their feet are decidedly covered.  Not only do they often prefer not to show their own feet, but they can take offense to others who do.

Bloody hell.

Yeah I know, creepy foot fetishes and all that.  (If I can be honest, I think that of all the sexual fetishes, the one for feet has to be the most harmless.)

Anyway I’m not immune to the allure of the female foot, although it’s not a particular fetish for me.  Here’s Semiaramis:

…whose feet are decidedly sexy, but then again I find her whole outfit undeniably so.

Kids need to get some perspective, and a grip.

Still Confused, After All These Years

I confessed some time ago that I cannot tell various public figures apart — even if they look totally different — in that when one of their names is mentioned, their face does not come to mind and I have to look them up to see which one is under discussion.

Here’s the bunch I still cannot differentiate, regardless of time and effort:

One of them’s married to that strawberry-blonde tart with great legs, one was in those Hangover movies, two are Canadian, one’s a Mormon and one owns a Welsh football club [some overlap possible].

Which one is which?

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Back Then

Wasting time over at C.W.’s place there’s this little bit of nostalgia, with his comment:

Certainly, my Gran’s did, except her tabletop was covered with a single sheet of green linoleum (don’t ask).

Also at C.W.’s:  he’s been on a tear about the wonderful Alfa Romeo Tipo 105 sports cars of the late 1960s and early 70s, like this one:

This might be my favorite model of them all:  the Giulia GT Junior, with Alfa’s extraordinary 1300cc engine which performed completely out of its weight class.

Want.

Finally, and I hesitate to even say this, he has no business posting pictures of terrible things like this on his website:

Doubleplus want.

I’d call that a Texas BLT, but the bread’s a little on the thin side.

Pointless Shit

I’m always ranting about how the auto industry has overloaded basic transportation with evermore-complex technology (3 seat-position memory options? FFS), but of course, they’re not the only ones.

Here’s another example, seen via a link on Insty’s page:

What a load of bullshit.  My old Keurig essentially has two options:  size of cup, regular/strong brew, and that’s it.  (“High Altitude Setting”? FFS #2)

Oh wait… I forgot mine’s warning light for “There’s No More Water In The Reservoir, You Idiot, Can’t You See Through The Clear Plastic?”

Let’s not forget the lie of “Brushed Silver” when it’s just shiny plastic.

And forgive me, but the whole point of a Keurig is that you can make a cuppa quickly without waiting for the water to boil, so the “Auto On/Off” switch is the work of Satan.  (Yeah, “saves electricity” blah blah blah… fuck the whales.)

Needless to say, in the spirit of manufacturers everywhere, my model Keurig is no longer available;  so when it finally quits working, I’ll be forced to buy one of these multi-featured over-complex monstrosities at, of course, a price which is 40% more than I paid for mine.

Don’t even talk to me about the cost of replacing my ageing VW, or my soaring blood pressure will ensure that the Tiguan outlives its owner.