No, that getup doesn’t make your point stupid at all
At first, nicking Sarah Palin’s “mama grizzly” imagery to make a contrary point seems like standard political repartee.
But…ummm…Emily’s List is a single-issue pro-abortion pressure group.
Mothers who fiercely protect their young. Women who demand the unrestricted right to abort babies. See, these two ideas are just not happy together. It’s what the ladies in the Human Resources department at my old company would call a “job mismatch” — HR-speak for, “wow, you really suck at this.”
It explains the costumes, anyhow. These girls have a much better chance being mistaken for bears than protective mothers.
Exit question: why is it when lefties really, really want to persuade the rest of us, they always dress up, strip naked or use puppets?
August 17, 2010 — 9:31 pm
Comments: 31
‘Nuff said
I think our trainee president has really put his foot in it this time.
August 16, 2010 — 11:30 pm
Comments: 13
Quick! Poke him in the tummy…!
I have never seen such a display of political incompetence — accelerating political incompetence — than the Obama administration is treating us to at the moment. It’s like they’re fucking up logarithmically now.
The golfing, the vacationing, the lavish entertaining — all in the teeth of an electorate that is broke, scared and spitting mad, on the eve of a crucial election that is looking historically awful for Democrats.
And then Gibbs goes and takes a swipe at his own base.
I honestly don’t know what we’re looking at here.
I don’t know what to call this.
So I’m going with “epic incompetence,” because I can’t quite wrap my head around “death wish.”
The Gibbs-as-Pillsbury-Doughboy idea has been floating around HotAir for a while, incidentally (I’d give credit if I knew who to). It doesn’t speak to his personality at all, but it perfectly describes his huge, pale, doughy melon.
August 13, 2010 — 10:39 pm
Comments: 34
Cram school! Yay!
My books arrived today! And no, they weren’t free!
I’m coming up on two years in the UK — time to prepare for the next (and final) visa. To clear that hurdle, I’ll have to pass an exam called the Life in the UK Test. This delicious morsel was whipped up by Labour in 2007 in the hope it would convince the wider British public that honest to god we haven’t just thrown open the doors and walked away.
Didn’t they, fuck.
Anyhow, the joke is, most Brits would have a hard time passing this thing. Free sample:
True or false: you should not ask questions in an interview.
True or false: half of all young people in the UK have taken part in fundraising or collecting money for charity.
Since 1979 the number of refugees from South East Asia who have been allowed to settle in the UK is: a) less than 2,500 b) between 2,501 and 10,000 c) between 10,001 and 25,000 or d) more than 25,000
And on and on. There are a stupidly large number of questions about Scotland (the last government had an inordinate number of Scots) and about school (honestly, I am never going to need to know at what age to take which exams) and about how to apply for various kinds of benefits (what every new citizen needs to know). Still, I suppose I’m learning stuff.
Did you know the head of the Church of Scotland is called the Moderator? Makes the church sound like a gameshow or an online discussion forum.
¡Noticia! tonight is the peak of the Perseid meteor showers. Look to the Northeast between midnight and dawn.
August 12, 2010 — 11:07 pm
Comments: 19
Not my week, really
Eh. Now I’ve picked up a virus on my principal laptop. One of those cutesy deals that drops itself into the system tray and pretends to be a virus checker. I think I’ve managed to scrape it out of my system without too much fuss, but now I’m having to run all the inevitable scans and checks.
If I didn’t have this trusty old Linux box, I’d be gefukt.
Especially on account of my increasingly erratic desktop computer has now ceased booting at all. For months, I could wobble the heat sink and get it going after a few resets — so, building on that logically, I took it apart this morning, cleaned all the bits and put it back together again. Now it’s a paperweight.
What gripes me about that is the money I don’t have, of course, and the fact that I’m going to have to learn stuff. It’s been a long, long time since I spec’ed a machine — godnose what the current state of play is with motherboards and processors and RAM and sech. It’s been a much, much longer time since I actually found hardware interesting.
Oh, well. I checked my records and I built this machine in March of 2004, so it sure as hell doesn’t owe me anything.
August 11, 2010 — 10:23 pm
Comments: 30
Just one of those days…
If I ever finish this drawing, I think I’ll call it “Gratitude.”
Recycling an old junk drawing today; we had One Of Those. Uncle B had to go see somebody several towns over and on the way back the exhaust system kind of…fell off. Disconnected somewhere under the driver’s seat. That’s when we discovered he’d left his cell phone where we were just at.
Fortunately, we weren’t far from home, so we could put on the emergency flashers and drag that sparking bad boy back to the house, but Uncle B can’t live without his cellphone for long because apparently it doubles as a life support system. I think he uses it to reoxygenate red blood cells or something. So we had to saddle up the Weaselmobile and go back for it.
So not a lot got done today. Run, Al!
August 10, 2010 — 10:07 pm
Comments: 10
It’s a fifty-foot cyborg Scalia. Why?
The reader formerly known as Skeptic wrote to tell me that Frank J. over at IMAO had posted about a fifty foot cyborg Scalia and he — the reader formerly known as Skeptic — could not rest until he had seen a P’shop representation of this wondrous machine.
Now, I generally don’t do requests — not because y’all don’t come up with some corking ideas, but because I’m lousy at visualizing somebody else’s pictures. This is why I gave up on freelance illustration after a couple of angry, drunken years.
But a fifty-foot rampaging cyborg Antonin Scalia? Well, who doesn’t fantasize about that?
Click the picture to embiggen and becolor.
August 9, 2010 — 11:41 pm
Comments: 27
Oh, and there was this seagull, too
Today, we dug up all the potatoes — got a good haul, too — and braided the onions together to dry. The kitchen smells distinctly French.
Then I sat in the garden, reading a book and feeding bits of my lunch to the chickens. They’re partial to meat, god help us all. Suddenly Lucia — who still makes peeping noises like a baby chick, as a rule — let out two thumping great grown-up BE-GACKs.
Not twelve feet away was a great handsome fox, padding steadily toward us. I said something intelligent like, “whoa, dude — you’re a fox,” but he wasn’t impressed. Not until I got up and headed toward him did he turn and saunter away, waving that bushy red tail.
Funny she recognized the threat. The chooks don’t seem the least bothered by cats, including that feral lad who would happily take a swipe at them if I turned my back.
Anyway — have a good weekend, all. I leave you with this lovely sentiment, what Uncle B ran across while shopping online for new tires. Engrish is the ranguage of ruv.
The Kumho KH 31 is in the four fragrances orange blossom, rosemary, lavender and jasmine. The tyres are not well known to smell is one thing that is not only with a car and thicknesses much hp under the hood can specify, is the other thing. How about times with the opposite sex instead of roses, with beguiling smells of jasmine or orange on points. Let simply Kumho KH 31 and assemble a balance of fresh scent.
August 6, 2010 — 9:38 pm
Comments: 21
Happy International Beer Day!
No, really.
My first homebrewing experiment was a huge success. So big a success, in fact, that I drank most of it last week. It wasn’t supposed to be ready until this week. Cloudy, mayhap, but very tasty.
The process feels kind of dopey. You open a couple of cans, add water and yeast and wait. Brewing for morons.
On the other hand — really excellent beer for 40p a pint! How dopey can that be? So I think I’ll do a few more kits before I try malting and hopping and doing it old school.
Currently in production: that fake vodka stuff with the high-yield yeast.
Next up: a cider kit. Cider here is hard. Very, very hard.
If you close your eyes, you can hear the hangover…
August 5, 2010 — 11:06 pm
Comments: 28
Oh, Pooh!
We drove home by an odd, roundabout route yesterday, trying to avoid a certain traffic bottleneck out of London. This took us into the Ashdown Forest, where I have never been (and where there doesn’t appear to be much forest, at least where we were).
When we got to the little town of Hartfield, I said, “look at that — there’s a tea room called Pooh Corner!”
And Uncle B said, “no, that’s probably the actual Pooh Corner.”
And I’m like, “fuck off!”
And he’s like, “no, really!”
Turns out, we’re both right. The Milnes lived at Cotchford Farmhouse, which is about a mile outside Hartfield. But Hartfield was the town they came into and it looks like this cottage — the website is a bit ambiguous on this point — might have been the shop Christopher Robin and his nanny always stopped into for sweeties.
Anyhow, they sell souvenirs. And tea. And maps to all the local landmarks which feature in the Pooh stories.
Meh. Not a big Pooh fan, me.
August 4, 2010 — 9:58 pm
Comments: 27