Watchful Eyes

Over in Britishland, a young mother named Nicola Bulley has gone missing while taking her dog for a walk one evening a couple weeks ago.  There have been all sorts of theories (coupled with the usual bollocks from people unrelated to the case who have nothing better to do with their lives):  that she fell into a river along her walk, that she was kidnapped, that she decided to do a runner (leaving behind her two small children), and so on.

No investigations have turned up anything at all — the Britcops are getting all sorts of crap for their slipshod investigation — and her disappearance has remained to date a complete mystery.

(Here’s a sample of articles on the topic.)

Here’s what disturbs me about all this.  For a small village, there sure must be a boatload of CCTV cameras around.  Here’s a photo map of the “blind spots” in the CCTV coverage — which are tiny — which means that there’s an awful lot of geography that’s apparently covered, and isn’t a blind spot.

To me, this means that surveillance cameras Over There are practically ubiquitous.  One might expect, perhaps, that densely-populated urban areas might have cameras all over the place (as seen in the gloomy 2006 Red Road  movie);  but in a remote little village like St. Michaels-On-Wyre?

I bet it’s not just in Britishland, either;  it’s probably growing Over Here, too;  and that gives me the creeps.

Of course, if anyone has proof that this is not the case, then I stand corrected.

News Roundup

Sponsored (unofficially) by:

…for reasons that will become clear.


I used to think like Stephen.  Nowadays, however...


...Granholm again, the loathsome Green bitch.  And speaking of people who need killing:


...having previously rejected using unicorn breath as being “perhaps unrealistic”.


...next: “Climate change causes assault weapons violence.”

And from the Dept. of Education:


...and for once, the story is even better than the headline.


...as the great Roger Sterling once said, when asked the first question: “Who cares?”

And in the Furrin News Dept:


...return to skiing, that is.  His girlfriend has apparently left him for “someone who can satisfy me”.


...South African thieves are upset because he died before they could rob him.


...an actual fake headline.


...we have warned before about getting close to foreign phallic monuments, which drive Muslim men crazy, it appears.


...key word:  Sweden.


...to make sex also illegal in the Red Light district.

As for SHOWBIZ INSIGNIFICA:

 

  …whatever.

From the Dept. of Dubious Truth (sponsored by the New York Times):


...edited for reasons of space.


...okay, maybe that’s not quite accurate.


...but will only accept trannie women because inclusivity.

As for Leilani:

Skinny, but delectable nevertheless.

Classic Beauty: Vera Ralston

Czech figure skater turned American (and Republican) actress, Vera (Hruba) Ralston somehow managed to captivate everyone who met her.  I dunno why.

And yes, of course she had the legs:

In one of my works-in-progress, (working title: Afternoon In Budapest), I’ve actually used this sepia pic as a basis for the heroine of the story:

I prefer her as a natural brunette to a bottle blonde anyway.

Rage Against

…not the dying of the light, but against those who want the internal combustion engine gone from our lives.

In one of his more serious moments, Jeremy Clarkson reviewed the Aston Martin Vantage V12, and his conclusion was unexpectedly poignant (watch it first before reading on).

“…what I’m driving here is an ending.”

Now this:

Lamborghini has bid farewell to its incredible naturally-aspirated V12 engine, fitting the final two powerplants into a pair of one-off cars that pay testament to one of the great supercar motors.

The Invencible [no, that’s not a typo] coupe and Auténtica roadster are unique special editions modelled on the outgoing Aventador and will be the last 12-cylinder Lambos without any form of hybridisation, with the Italian marque set to embark on electrifying its model line-up in the coming years.

I’m not a Lambo fan, haven’t been one since the disappearance of the wonderful 400 GT:

But I love what Lamborghini cars have come to represent (even though I don’t much care for it, personally):  completely batty, speed-is-everything, balls-to-the wall acceleration, hopeless impracticality, outrageous body shape, even more outrageous prices, and all that.

And all that, as Clarkson observes, is going to be taken away from us by the bloodless killjoys among us because in these oh-so modern times, we’re not allowed to have fun [thousands of silly and who-cares reasons omitted because I don’t want to have an RCOB].

Even the Puritans of the Mayflower  would have said, “Stop that foolishness.”

But we can’t stop them.

I’m feeling even gloomier than Clarkson.