Different Standard

You know how you will sometimes run across a woman who you know will be bad for you, will empty your wallet, will cause you to do bad things (and not just to her), will cause you to get into trouble, but at the end of the day, you just can’t help yourself?

Here’s the automotive equivalent, the 1952 Alfa Romeo 1900 M (“Matta”):

Didn’t know Alfa made a jeep-type utility back in the early 1950s?  Nor did I.  But let’s get back to the standards set in first paragraph of this post, because this little thing even warns you by its nickname that it’s going to be trouble:

Is it reliable? — doesn’t Matta
Does it have 4-wheel drive? — doesn’t Matta
What’s its gas consumption? — doesn’t Matta
Is it an uncomfortable ride? — doesn’t Matta
Is it expensive? — doesn’t Matta

Do I want one?  Hell yes.

Because it’s an Alfa.

And to make things even worse, here’s an earlier one, the 1930 Alfa Romeo 6C 1750 Gran Sport:

I want this one even more than the Matta… wait, no I don’t / yes I do aaaaaarrrrrrghhh I want both, because they color-match.

I have as much resistance to Alfas as I have to the type of girl in the opening paragraph.

Ugh

Colonoscopy in one hour’s time for Kimmy.

Yeah, I know:  TMI.  Sometimes on this blog, ya just gotta take the rough with the smooth.

Wish me luck.


Update:  back home, all good.  The Commies are stuck with me for a while yet.

Interesting People

I’ve never read any of the late Fay Weldon‘s novels, but I have to say that she was an interesting person.  In a time when 22-year-old “influencers” trade on their bodies and faces to create wealth out of nothing, there’s something appealing about a woman who grew up — and later flourished — during a time when such a life would have been absolutely impossible.  And by being outrageous despite all that, she became a true feminist — the kind of feminist I applaud rather than despise (i.e. the modern feministicals).  And let’s face it, how can you not love someone with these two snippets on her resume:

[Her] first script was rejected as too explicit — no one, explained a man at the BBC, wanted to watch a drama about prostitutes, ‘no matter how well written’.

Her career flying, at a party in 1961 she fell into bed with that man who introduced himself next morning.  For the next decade they were rarely out of bed — sex was the whole basis of their relationship.  ‘I thought the only way to know a man properly was to know what he was like in bed,’ she said, ‘and my appetite for knowledge was formidable.’

Formidable, indeed.  I’m going to get one of her novels and read it.

Our next interesting person also did things his own way.

He started off life as a bricklayer, and then set out to conquer the world.

In his 86 years, David Gold conquered the worlds of retail, property, publishing and air travel and was estimated to be worth a staggering £500m.

What kind of publishing, you ask?   Sex magazines — hitherto unavailable in Britain.  What kind of property?  Four stores called “Ann Summers”, which sold sex toys.  The he made his daughter Jacqueline (who needs her own post, but she isn’t dead yet) the CEO of Ann Summers, and she promptly turned the business into the sex toy equivalent of Tupperware, amassing her own personal fortune of just over half a billion dollars along the way.

And then David became chairman of first Birmingham City and then West Ham F.C. in London, and died recently with a mistress of twenty-four years’ standing, who happened to be nearly twenty years his junior.

Just as formidable, and not at all bad for a one-time brickie with no university degree.

I love life stories that read like this.

News Roundup

Sponsored by:

Speaking of two fingers:

 

From the Department Of Here We Fucking Go Again:

 

…while in the Fourth Reich:


...wait, you mean all that lockdown shit didn’t work?

Back to some good news, for a change:


...which will be reported by mainstream media in:  10,000… 9,999… 9,998…


...don’t care who or what you are;  you kill someone, Missouri will kill you right back.  As it should be.


...wish we’d done that to the fucking Californians.


...as the NYFT slides deeper and deeper into delusion and irrelevance.



wait… this was in California?

And of course, would any news roundup be complete without a Republican circular firing squad?


...that said, I’m not comfortable with a California Republican in a power seat — the last time we had that, Richard Nixon gave us the Environmental Protection Agency, by executive order.

From the INSIGNIFICA files:

   

And finally, for something a little different:


...no, I don’t know who she is either, some Brit actress I think, but let me introduce her to y’all: 


And if that isn’t somewhat better news than we’ve been seeing… well, I give up.

3 People

…or groups of people that I don’t want to see, read about or hear from in 2023:

Individuals:

  • Rebel Wilson — this sour-faced Oz chick was distasteful even before she went lesbo
  • Harry / Meghan — totally irrelevant couple, consisting of the one-time royal “spare” and an ex-TV starlet of little talent
  • Madonna — I shouldn’t have to explain why

(Dis)honorable mention:  Piers Morgan.  Because Piers Morgan.

Groups:

  • anyone named Beckham:  David, his pointy wife, his no-talent sons, whatever
  • the Kardashian / Jenner coven — they are the very definition of the term “media whores”;  also included:  their many sperm donors
  • anyone named Obama — the socialist ex-president, his talent-free wife and his irrelevant daughters

(Dis)honorable mention:  any Trump not named Donald.

Taken as a whole, all the above define the word INSIGNIFICA, as coined by Yer Humble Narrator, and deserve no hearing or exposure.