Am I the last man to discover the excellent War Factories series on the Eeeewww Choob?

If you haven’t watched it, kiss your weekend goodbye, as I did last weekend.

You can thank me later.

There’s also the sulky-looking and acerbic Alexandra Churchill to be seen occasionally.  She really, really hates the Nazis from the 1940s — and who can blame her?

Oh, and she’s definitely not related to WSC:


If this is the New Breed of Lady Historians, bring it on.


Via the Knuckledragger, I see this little exercise:

Get Taylor Swift front row seats, or buy this instead

Given that I would rather be boiled in oil than have to sit through a Taylor Swift concert, never mind caught at a distance where I would be sprayed by her saliva as she mimes her way through her dreadful repertoire, it’s an interesting thought:

What’s a decent way to blow $11,000 (!) instead of a front-row ticket in Hell?

The guidelines are:  assume that you have no debts to pay off, and that the eleven grand is just to be spent on yourself.  What would give you the greatest satisfaction or enjoyment?  (Be as silly as you want;  one of the suggestions in the article was to buy yourself a pallet of Arizona Iced Tea — which for me, by the way, would be only marginally less horrible than the aforementioned concert ticket.)

You can choose to spend it on just one thing, or on several.

Your suggestions in Comments;  my choices will be below the fold.

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Not Interested

For some reason, this story made me feel good today:

RONNIE O’SULLIVAN says he is a ‘snooker fake’ who should not be playing.

The Rocket is bidding to extend his record of seven UK Championships after beating Matthew Stevens in round one yesterday.  But O’Sullivan, 47 next month, said: “I shouldn’t even be playing at my age.  I don’t take it too seriously.  I find it all quite funny really.  I have a bit of an impostor syndrome.  I felt happier when I had that run of losing five finals.  But when I started winning tournaments again I didn’t really feel I deserved it.  It felt like a plot to allow me to do it, and I felt like a fake.”

“When I won the worlds again in May I didn’t feel great about it. I am feeling flat to be honest with you and don’t want to play snooker at the moment. I don’t play much and really don’t care. I mainly keep coming because it’s something to do.”

Easy to say when you’re the greatest snooker player of all time.  But I love his honesty.

Here’s Ronnie not caring…  yeah, it’s four hours long, but then again, it’s absolutely incredible.  Watch it tonight, for a Friday Night Movie;  or you can watch the first 15 minutes for the opening frame, and then the last few frames.

Virtual Morality Questions

The era of electronic entertainment has given rise to all sorts of interesting moral questions, questions that bring shades of gray to hitherto black-and-white issues of right or wrong.  Here’s one:

I was going to file this silly thing under INSIGNIFICA when I decided it wasn’t that silly, after all.

We might think that this is a modern morality question, but of course it isn’t.  People have been sending “love letters” to each other pretty much as soon as we discovered writing, only now the communication is electronic over the Internet rather than on paper and by messenger / through the mail.  In days gone by, therefore, a husband discovering racy love letters from another man in his wife’s possession would justifiably, in my opinion, be suspicious of his wife’s fidelity — and certainly so if the other man was a mutual acquaintance, or someone living close by.

Of course, the further the distance between writers, the less likely would actual adultery take place — but, to address the above question, is virtual adultery any different from actual adultery?

Note that I’m not talking about flirty communication here;  there’s an enormous difference, in my opinion, between “I’d love to take a walk on the beach with you someday”  to “I want to suck your penis”, although some might argue that the difference is only in degree.

The arrival of the telephone added sound to the situation — and one has only to see how many “phone sex” lines there are to see the effect of that.  Still, I suppose that one might argue that such activity is purely impersonal — I’m reminded of a scene in some movie of a young woman having phone sex on one of these lines while doing her ironing and watching her baby play on the kitchen floor — and it’s all just fantasy, not adultery.

What has changed, of course, is that communication nowadays can include video, where love letters never did.  Now we are talking about a whole different ball game, aren’t we?  Or are we?

Does adultery have to require actual physical contact to be classified as adultery?

I have to say “yes” to the above — although that said, I understand that virtual adultery has all sorts of “moth and candle” implications, especially if it’s between people who know each other.  As one woman of my acquaintance once put it:  “Virtual sex has replaced foreplay when it comes to fooling around”, and she’s absolutely right — if, that is, the couple are not just strangers getting a cheap thrill out of the thing.

And there, I think, is the crux of it.  It’s not the virtual aspect of it;  it’s who you’re talking to.  Which is more dangerous to a marriage:  talking sex to a complete stranger in a chat room, on a phone sex line or on a video call, or talking sex with a neighbor, a guy from the office or a friend’s husband?

I think we all know the answer to that.

Return To Sender

Here’s the situation:

With an estimated surface area of over 600,000 square miles, the Great Pacific Garbage Patch (GPGP) is the largest plastic accumulation zone in the world.

Located halfway between Hawaii and California, the GPGP is estimated to contain a whopping 2.41 million tonnes of plastic – and is continuing to grow.

Scientists are desperately trying to clear the build-up, and this month have been able to extract 10 tonnes (10,086kg) of plastic, bringing the total of plastic removed to 145 tonnes (145,518 kg).

So the job is about .006% done?  Okay, whatever.  Keep on going, then.

What I object to is that the junk is being offloaded onto U.S. soil, when in fact it should just be returned to its principle point of origin:  China (with an assist from the Japs).

Of course, being the assholes that they are, the ChiComs won’t destroy or recycle any of it, but just dump it all back into the ocean.

Asia wins again.

By the way, I see no reason why this cleanup effort shouldn’t be funded in its entirety by Green billionaires and their woke corporations.