Moving Day 1

So I’ll be moving into my new apartment later today, with the kind assistance of friends and family:

That’s not everything, of course;  the contents of Ye Olde Ammoe Locquer will require a separate trip:

…and needless to say I’ll be moving the humble remnants of my once-extensive gun collection myself:

Oh, stop it.  Remember that in Texas, this is referred to as a “starter” set.

The big stuff — furniture, appliances etc. — will get moved on Monday.

And speaking of assistance:  if anyone cares to spare some couch change to help me defray expenses, your generosity will be much appreciated.  This “starting afresh” business is expensive.

That’s More Like It: Carnoustie Bares Its Fangs

It seems as though the Carnoustie weather only gave the players a false sense of security on Thursday, setting them up for Friday.  And it worked.

The vast crowds were not dodging imaginary lava, of course, but rain. Real rain. The sort of rain that turns course maps into mulch and makes bunkers look like mud. “I’m waiting here,” said one glum spectator, who had joined a swelling mob of clambering fans in watching a big screen from the comfort of the Open’s food tent. “I’ll have to go out later.”

By mid-morning, the food hall was part-cafe, part-viewing gallery and part-changing room. Those wise enough to bring waterproofs had found a place to pull them on, while others had been drawn to the smell of bacon butties. One woman, clearly unmoved by the prospect of exchanging her warmth for live golf, was simply reading a book. Another spectator told the Daily Telegraph that this was his first trip to the Open since Royal Troon in 2016, when the rain fell even harder. “At least I got a free course map,” he said.
It should be made clear that this weather is not unusual. This is Scotland. It rains. Get over it, right? But it was still hard to avoid the contrast between this misery and the opening day here, when Carnoustie provided a passable impression of a Mediterranean beach resort. On Thursday, the better-hydrated spectators fell asleep on the oversized, inflatable cushions. On Friday, those cushions drooped mournfully in the dirt like a herd of tired walruses.

It could always be worse, as they say, and it has been far worse than this at the Open. The conditions were so bad during the third round of the 2002 tournament in Muirfield that Trevor Immelman, the South African player, said he thought the world was going to end.

That braying sound you hear is Kim laughing uproariously.

(And thanks to Reader Pkudude, who sent me the link.)

Irony Alert

So former supermodel Elle McPherson is dating a doctor.  Ordinarily, I would not care, and nor should any sentient human being.  But this is not just any doctor, oh no — as the Daily Mail  breathlessly informs us:

Elle Macpherson, 54, is dating discredited former doctor Andrew Wakefield, 60, a driving force behind the anti-vaxxer movement when his debunked theory linked the childhood MMR jab to autism

…and of course there’s a pic:

…which makes me think:  while I certainly do not wish any harm on the Oz bint, wouldn’t be wonderfully ironic if by kissing this charlatan, she contracted a serious yet preventable disease?

(Side note:  kissing with eyes open? eewwww)

 

5 Worst Excuses For Leaving Work Early

We’ve all done it, but here are the worst, in ascending order of ridiculousness:

  • I have to leave now, it’s Happy Hour at the Rose & Crown
  • I have to pick my grandmother up at the airport (bonus if the speaker is over the age of 50)
  • I have to get to the liquor store before it closes
  • I broke my fingernail and I have an emergency appointment at the nail salon (female; if male, I don’t want to talk to you)
  • I have to take my Mom to the maternity ward

Bonus points for guessing which one was mine.

Your suggestions in Comments.

Viking Spirit

As we all know, Danes once formed part of the dreaded Viking group of raiders who held most of Western Europe in a grip of terror:  killing innocent people, rape, pillage, sacking monasteries etc.  In the past century or so, however, the Danes had become totally wussy, with a soft social tolerance of all things which would otherwise be beyond the pale in any ordered society.

Well, it seems like you can only push these particular Norsemen so far before they start getting twitchy:

So why is Denmark banning the burka and threatening to end benefits for migrants whose children don’t integrate?
Across the country, 21 other [ghettoes] with high crime rates, soaring unemployment and more than 50 per cent non-Western residents… are due to be ‘eradicated’ by 2030, following the introduction of controversial laws aimed at protecting ‘Danishness’ and ridding the country of so-called ‘parallel’ societies.
Later this year, legislation will force all families living in these ghettos to send their toddlers, as young as one year old, to approved day centres to learn the Danish language and Danish values.
The children will have to complete 25 hours of compulsory state education and, while the primary focus will be on language skills and learning, the plan is to educate the mainly Muslim children in the Danish way of life, as well as to give instruction on religious holidays, Christmas and Easter, and their importance in the Christian calendar.

I’m going to pause right now, to allow the cheers and applause to die down.  (I bet His Rottieness The Emperor Misha — who is Danish — is cheering his head off.)

There’s nothing “controversial” about this legislation at all.  The primary responsibility that all immigrants should assume when arriving in their host country is to assimilate and acculturate — even if only for gratitude’s sake.  The fact that the (primarily Muslim) newcomers in Denmark (and in other European countries) have not done so is reprehensible, and the Danish government is quite justified in saying “Assimilate or we’ll end the benefits which we so readily grant you when you arrive here.”

Good for them, say I.  And if these assholes dig their heels in and refuse to obey the law, then Denmark should deport all of them  — including their Danish-born children — back to their home countries.  I’m so sick of newcomers insisting that the hosts should change rather than they themselves.

In fact, this is such a good idea that I think I’m going to write to TexGov Jim Greg Abbott and suggest that we copy the Danish program here for all immigrants, but especially for Mexicans and Californians.  (For the latter, we need a crash course on conservative values and another one on gun ownership, to name but two.)

We can start by removing all that Habla Español  bullshit on our official documents, because the official language of this country is English and if you come here, you have to learn it.

As the Danes would say:  it’s time to fit in or fuck off.