Today’s Earworm

You know, whenever I hear someone say nonsense like “Only Black people can sing soul music, dude”  I’m tempted to

a.) beat them over the head with my souvenir Janis Joplin mike stand
b.) poke them in the eye with an Eric Clapton guitar pick, or
c.) play them Dave Mason’s We Just Disagree.

…and apart from the lyrics, Mason’s voice and the astounding harmonies, it has one of the best bass lines, ever.  All that in just three minutes, and it should have been fifteen because it would save me hitting the replay button so much.

Disconnected

I read this guy’s story with something akin to dread:

And that’s when I realized that little by little, my phone had gotten the best of me.

I’ve often prided myself on one of the few people not shackled to my phone, but after reading this guy’s story, I chided myself for my arrogance.

As much as I hate to admit it, my phone is now an integral part of my existence, as much as my glasses or my car.

We’ve been one-carring it since the beginning of the week — first, my car had to (finally) get completely fixed after my collision with the highway crocodile a few weeks ago, which meant that while New Wife was driving to and from work, I sat at home, isolated.  Then I had to get some errands done (Rx refills etc.) so I had to drive her to and from work for a day.  Then, just as we were going to pick up the Tiguan, I got this call:  “My check engine light just came on.”

So we picked up my car and dropped hers off, to get the oil changed as well as getting whatever the warning light entailed seen to.  All manageable (except the total repair cost for the two cars — I’m going to have to sell a gun or two, and I’m not kidding), but having one car was an inconvenience, really.

However:  had my phone disappeared on me during this time, that would have been simply catastrophic.  Calls to the auto repair shop, calls to New Wife to organize pickup times… the list of critical calls was far longer than I was comfortable with.  And don’t even ask me how I’d have got through to anyone without my phone’s contact list.

Like many people nowadays, we don’t have a landline phone in the apartment.  But I’m starting to rethink that — or else I’m going to get a no-contract burner phone for emergencies.

This modern life is bullshit, and it sucks green donkey dicks.

We Knew That

And now we know:

Too bad that all this has come at a time when I can’t afford to buy the lovely stuff… but I guess I can always cut something from the budget (like a Netflix subscription) to get more meat.

And yes, I know I can’t afford the gas to get to the supermarket, either.  Which is why my apartment is walking distance from not one but two of them.

And now, if you’ll excuse me…

News Roundup

So continuing in that proud tradition:


...stupid Spelchek.


...yeah, we all guessed that.  They either lie, mislead, exaggerate or conceal, 24/7.


...other reasons include: attending the Governor’s Barbecue, tradition, being a cowboy, and because fuck you.


...as most male Brit politicians are girlymen, this should not be surprising.


...yeah, how dare she interfere in her child’s education? [/teachers’ union]


...who is she, and why should you care?  Follow the link for the full story.


...on a per-insertion basis, that has to be some of the most expensive poontang in historySide thought:  how much does that crazy moron earn, anyway?


...the real mistake was when he tried to claim overtime for it.

And from the Dept. of Irony:


...as The Great Assimilation Experiment continues.


...no idea why, as “fuckup” does the job perfectly well.


...but no mention of flogging or castration, unfortunately.


...and who could blame them, other than the Education Establishment?

From between the sheets of INSIGNIFICA:

   

And following that last thought, something for my Lady Readers:


with link:
no need to thank me, it’s all part of the service — although at $120, you have to need it really badly.

And finally, our Paige Three Special:

Okay, strictly speaking, the last one isn’t a “golf” outfit;  but I needed to make up a four.

Unwelcome Silence

Damn it all:

Legendary Fleetwood Mac singer Christine McVie has died at the age of 79 – with the bandmates describing her as ‘truly one-of-a-kind’.

The songwriter was also a co-lead vocalist and keyboardist in the popular British-American rock band, which was originally formed in London.

Here’s my favorite Christine Perfect song, which she performed long before she went commercial.

…and the world has become just a little less beautiful.