sweasel.com

Why do I have the impression that something has been airbrushed out from between the weasel’s paws in that picture?

…and why are all those horses really, really happy?

On a happier note, I found this while searching for horse head photos. Just in time for Christmas. Their motto: a severed horse head is worth a thousand words.

Here’s some head, Weasel:

http://bp3.blogger.com/_M_rhIbhVUJM/R1k98PgM3LI/AAAAAAAACIk/5pTxtqbyR7k/s1600-h/Busy.jpg

That was from Mitchieville:

http://www.mitchieville.blogspot.com/

And while we’re doing Christmas lists, this was on Uncle B’s. It’s a 17th C book about a Jesuit priest who was executed for being in on the November 5 plot, bound in his own skin.

Yeah, and guess which little badger is going to be disappointed come Xmas morning, on account of a certain Weasel saying ‘But Santa can’t bring books bound in human skin!’.

A likely story!

And it would have looked so good on my bedside table…

Aw, Badger, don’t ruin the surprise!

BBC hasn’t done a followup yet, but there’s video of the book at the link.

My boss sent me this link. I don’t know if it’s his Christmas list, or if he’s still trying to discourage me from showing up the morning.

He used to make new recruits watch a five-minute film loop of Mister Creosote frowing up into a bucket. No lie.

You have NO IDEA how long five minutes can be.

I love that link, Stoaty! I may need one of those, just because….

Does the nose on one of the photos jiggle for you as you mouse-scroll up and down? I was giggling my butt off over that.

Nooooo…must be an IE thing.

A thousand years ago, I made a creamer in the shape of a pig. The cream came out of his nose. Come to think of it, I did a human version, too.

Meh. Too late to look for pitchers.

YouTube is blocked from work, so all my vids are after hours. Sam and Criminy Kraffft present Drugachusettes.

I think you have to be from exactly my place and time to find this oxygen-stealing funny.

The Island of Misfit Sex Toys.

Golly, you guys are sick. I’m tellin’ Mom.

Go back to bed, JW. Your Dad and I are playing… uh… with …er… Santa and his…um… friends.

Weaz, when the newspaper came up with the “What the fuck?,” says Santa quote, I damned near spewed my monitor.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

All of YOU are going to find some dark thing in your Christmas stockings, and you’re all going to be damn’d glad if it’s only a lump of coal.

We can’t let any of you off your medications for a minute, can we?

Stop patronising the BBC fer crying out loud – they’ll think they’ve got a mandate for their multi-culti, anti-American, pro-Islamist, sloppy shit.
Are those horseys happy…or just mad? Who knows. Maybe they’ve gone mad with happiness over the size of their space-time-bending-sized genitals. Again – who knows. I don’t speak horse, and it’s too late to learn now.

The sultry beer maid sidled up to Covington and whispered into his ear, “Are you part horse – or are you just happy to see me?”

He replied, “Wh- wh- who , M-m-m-eeeee?”

It’s never too late to learn to speak horse.

So I pull into the supermarket (why do I do this on Saturday afternoons? What kind of masochism is that?), and the guy in the parking place in front of me is slumped over the steering wheel of his car. He’s wearing a hat, so I can’t really see him, but I think he’s breathing. Also, he has a Jar Jar Binks inflatable doll draped over the passenger seat.

M’kay.

Come out half an hour later, he’s still there. Uh oh. On the one hand, I try to be Suzy Q. Goodcitizen. On the other hand, I think what the world needs more of is people minding their own damn business. What if he’s just sleeping something off? Weasel’s mental gears lock.

So I find some other parking lot lady and point her to my dilemma. She sneaks up on the car, “I think he’s moving…” And I go, “yeah, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay.” We both keep an eye on him while we put our groceries in our respective cars. When we’re all done and there’s no putting it off, I say, “okay, but if we see this guy on the news tonight, you’ll join me in feeling guilty, right?”

As I’m driving off, I take one last look back, and the dude is sitting up, blinking and looking a bit inebriated. Parking Lot Lady is just pulling out and we thumbs-up each other.

Another fraught social situation successfully navigated.

And that’s just one of the many heroic things Weasel’s done today. Did you know I owned the complete works of Dickens *and* RL Stevenson? I didn’t!

Why do I have a copy of “The Treatment of Behavioral Disorders After Encephalitis”?! Why? Why?

And why was it so hard for me to put in the DO NOT WANT box?

Since I’m not sure where this is all going, here’s a link that is too strange to do anything with:

http://collegecallgirl.blogspot.com/2007/11/meet-my-new-favorite-artist-riskay.html

I swiped it from Ace – but he gets plenty anyway. Besides – it’s really strange.

Whoa, Weaz. My office-mate at TI many decades ago got a dose of encephalitis from a mosquito. That’s when it made my list of “diseases to really, really not get”. He said – among other things – that his head was spinning like he was drunk – for 4 weeks. He said it sucked.

Shhhh Gibby! If you keep complaining like that the BBC is going to send over the van to search for the secret antenna in the attic – again.

http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/07_02/tvdetectMS1407_468x386.jpg

Damn them, they’re jamming my links!

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=468466

I’ll be under my bed. Oh wait! I was just kidding! That’s NOT where I’ll be. I never hide there; NEVER!. OK? So, don’t tell them that.

Y’know – I bet a spoofer circuit could be designed and built that could run off a itty bitty mercury cell, cost about a buck to fabricate, and would drive those vans whacko. Sprinkle about 50 of ’em around the neighborhood and watch the fun.

Anyone out there in Britainland (and of a technical bent) happen to know what the van equipment keys off of? RF/IF local osc bleed? F(horiz) or F(vert) leakage?

No vans, McGoo. It’s bullshit and always was. Just a scare story invented by the lying parasites at the BBC (and their corrupt friends in government) to scare people into paying the tax they depend upon to be able to spread their lies and propaganda.

Apparently there has never once been a single instance of evidence having been presented by a BBC ‘detector van’ in a court of law.

Think Potemkin villages.

And now, of course, the BBC ‘licence fee’ (aka ‘television tax’) is administered by a company called ‘Capita’ (known universally as ‘Crapita’ in the UK) which exists solely to act as a Mafia-style collection agency to service extortion rackets. One of their best-known shakedowns is the London ‘Congestion Charge’ which they administer on behalf of the their fellow travelling Marxist creep, Ken Livingstone – friend of Islamo-Nazis, anti-Semite, IRA terrorist supporter, political thug and all-round crook.

The next time some po-faced Brit looks down his nose and sneers at the corruption in US politics just point him at the cesspool that exists in his own benighted country. Britain is riddled with corruption and graft from top to bottom. The BBC struts like a cock on that dung-heap.

Geez! I’d heard about those things over there for years – decades even (if memory serves) – and had never ONCE heard that they were fake! Whoa. This is gonna result in a non-trivial realignment of McGoo’s concept of Jolly Ol’.

Um…It is still true that all your women are rich, gorgeous nymphomaniacs, isn’t it?

Ya know, Badger, I hate to say it but it’s a relief to hear someone else seriously complain about their country (one that I believe is worthy of great respect). I’ve been seeing and hearing my country get crapped on most of my life. The US has its faults – serious ones – but hearing about it for 30-40 years wears a bit thin. I’d still prefer “here” to anywhere else.

And that’s exactly how it should be, McGoo. I reserve the right to criticise my own country for the mess it has got itself into – but I’d still rather be here than anywhere else.

Though that, I must confess, gets progressively shaken as we slide further down into the dead embrace of the left.

Oh and no, sorry, our women are not all gorgeous nymphomaniacs.

That’s why I’m going for an import…

The hard part was convincing him I’m a rich, gorgeous nymphomaniac.

I used a stunt double.

When I first ambled across this delightful black and white website (via Ace of Spades, naturally), and found out that Weasel was planning to move to Blighty, my first reaction was, ‘Why?’ and then, ‘Are you sure?’ and then ‘No really, are you sure?’
I love England. I love being English. But I think it’s got a terrible disease and not only is it not being treated, certain groups are encouraging – for whatever reason – the disorder. The longer we go on without treatment, the more invasive, dangerous and severe the cure will be.
Regarding the TV van, I’m no electrical engineer, but from what I understand, the chances of them being able to detect whether or not you’re watching broadcast TV (BBC or not, it doesn’t matter) without having bought a license by pointing their Tranny (Ford Transit) at your mess of EM noise is somewhere in the range of ‘you’ve got to be shitting me, right?’ And even if they do have some super-duper advanced equipment that is top secret, then it’s inadmissible as evidence anyway.
I’ve never had the misfortune of encountering the BBC’s hired thugs (possibly because I live ‘up north’ in the country and if there’s one thing that the BBC hates more than America, Jews or objectivity, it’s having to go outside of the city), but I hear if they do ring your doorbell, you should just hide behind the sofa until they go away. Either that or answer the door, say nothing and close the door on them. Or, if you’re feeling particularly daring, you could axe the bastards to death, but bear in mind they’re just hired goons, and the BBC is the real monster.
In the BBC’s defence though, they’re airing a program (tonight I think it is), called Panorama wherein they document a fierce, extended firefight in Basra involving British troops and Iranians-in-Iraq. That certainly, on the surface, doesn’t seem to chime with the ‘Oh my god, the Zionist-controlled US government wants to start another illegal war on the sovereign, utopian, peaceful state of Iran!!1!’, but of course it hasn’t aired yet, so I’m sure they’ll find some way of forgiving the Iranians (for waging war, again, against us) and to either blame the US, us, Israel, global warming or all of the above.

Gibby – I’m delighted to hear that “faint” note of cynicism in your voice that I reserve for the MSM everywhere. I got a kick out of your observation that they don’t like to leave the city. Here, too. Generally, If it isn’t on the Eastern Seaboard or the West Coast – they don’t go there.

As for TV vans (if they exist), they have to be keying off an identifiable TV waveform/signal that is characteristic of the gadgets. There are several that are unique to TV sets (I mentioned the two raster-scan waveforms earlier; there are others), but all of them are readily (almost trivially) synthesize-able.

I wonder how these detectors would do with an LCD TV… which has no cathode ray tube to emit raster-scan waveforms whatever the hell those are.

I would bet that the LCD TV’s are pretty well undetectable, no matter how big the antenna on the SS’ van is.

Lokki–and couldn’t you just say, “sod off, Stalin, that’s my computer monitor?”

The main board behind the screen of an LCD/Plasma is covered with ram/driver chips in rows and columns. They have to load/shift all that image data in some kind of orderly manner. Like rows/columns. There’s a signature.

But I like See-Dub’s solution better. Way less work, and it cost nothing.

Hmmm. See-Dubya, I must have misread the article.

http://aardvarks.wordpress.com/2007/12/09/british-snooch-detection-in-urban-environments-with-supplemental-exercises-for-the-student/

Badger, Gibby, et al,

What about this idea about the wind farms all over the Jolly Ol’ coastline?

Here:
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_2633432.html?menu=news.latestheadlines

What’s your take on it?

Oh, DON’T, McGoo. Don’t push that button!

Erase the comment!!!

Mmmmmf! Snarflfle! Shgrumggx!

Oh! Look! Something shiny!

Guess what? Did the crossword puzzle online this morning. The first time I’ve done a puzzle that had the word “stoat” in it. Cool. My first thought was – why wasn’t the clue “Weasel blog lady’s first name…”? Instead it was Ermine, in summer.” What?

As you may have noticed, I’m easily entertained.

An Ermine in Summer. Yeah. It’s kind of like a Lion in Winter, only smaller. And stinkier.

Speaking of the term “Weasel” – I have noticed that I’ve become sensitized to people using the word as a term of disparagement. (I saw “f**kweasel yesterday and got really irritated). I now find using it that way highly offensive, because when I think of the word now I think of our dear host.

I have noticed that I’ve become sensitized to people using the word as a term of disparagement.

Erh, ahh, uhm, YEAH! What he said, (now that he mentioned it!)

Lokki is now sensitive man.

Oh, look, something shiny!

http://coins.about.com/od/famousrarecoinprofiles/p/1933_Gold_Eagle.htm

Wait just a minute here… in the UK, you people are forced to pay a fee if you want to watch any TV at all, regardless of whether you watch the BBC or not? You don’t have any public access channels? Is the same true for your radios? Do you have to pay for that service too?

How do you get emergency messages out to one another? o.o Not everyone would be able to afford the telly, right? I mean, you’re already paying an electric bill too…

I usually send my emergency messages via carrier-pigeon. ‘Coo, coo, little Timmy is stuck down the well…squark.’
In regards to the wind turbine. Those suckers are mighty weak; they generate 1MW or something French like that. You’d need hundreds of thousands to replace all of the fossil-fuel-burning suckers. They’re not all bad though: it’s satisfying to watch the enviro-wanks squirm when some rare, endangered bird dashes itself against the blades of one.
Nuclear all the way, baby. They’re carbon neutral (whatever that means), can be fuelled cheaply, domestically; generate shitloads of power, fast (i.e. on demand) – somewhere in the region of 6GW – and best of all, enviro-weenies are scared shitless of them. Plus, we can make munitions out of the waste so we can hear ‘human’ rights groups piss and moan about DU munitions are ‘immoral’, ‘inhumane’ ‘illegal’ and anyone that uses them is a ‘warmongering baby-killer’.

Go Nuke!

Man, I like “War-mongering baby-killer” so much I may just change to that nick permanently.

I try to avoid crosswords that don’t have hints like “23. The Skipper’s little buddy”

I’ll bet you’re sorry now, Tokyo Rose, sorry for what you’ve done.

You know, it’s surly, mouth-breathing psychopaths like Gibby who make me think this move might work out, after all.

All forms of energy product generate some form of pollution.
We all know about soot from coal, etc and that from windmills, you get tons of feathers and offal. From Nuclear, some will say that there’s no pollution, and generally they’re right – except that when you DO get pollution from a Nuclear plant, you get a lot, all at once.

Having said that, If the Japanese aren’t afraid of them (they have a ton of nuke plants) and the French (For God’s sake –The French) can run them safely, then America should be using them too.

Oh, and “War-Mongering Baby-Killer” here’s the correct answer to #23 Across:
“Skipper’s Little Buddy”