Dead Pool 173 or possibly 4
TheFritz takes it with Henry Kissinger, a crowd favorite. I am very weirded out by this as I distinctly remember posting a Dead Pool that Kissinger was the subject of. I made a joke about whether anyone ever called him Hank and how it didn’t seem likely.
So when Normal Lear copped it, I called it for Armybrat, thinking it was a whole ‘nother Dead Pool.
Am I writing Dead Pools in my dreams now?
Though Armybrat graciously stood aside, I’m’a call it a double win and await Rick Rostrom’s preferences for numbering.
Are we all thoroughly confused? Then let’s begin…
0. Rule Zero (AKA Steve’s Rule): your pick has to be living when picked. Also, nobody whose execution date is circled on the calendar. Also, please don’t kill anybody. Plus (Pupster’s Rule) no picking someone who’s only famous for being the oldest person alive.
1. Pick a celebrity. Any celebrity — though I reserve the right to nix picks I never heard of (I don’t generally follow the Dead Pool threads carefully, so if you’re unsure of your pick, call it to my attention).
2. We start from scratch every time. No matter who you had last time, or who you may have called between rounds, you have to turn up on this very thread and stake your claim.
3. Poaching and other dirty tricks positively encouraged.
4. Your first choice sticks. Don’t just blurt something out, m’kay? Also, make sure you have a correct spelling of your choice somewhere in your comment. These threads get longish and I use search to figure out if we have a winner.
5. It’s up to you to search the thread and make sure your choice is unique. I’m waayyyy too lazy to catch the dupes. Popular picks go fast.
6. The pool stays open until somebody on the list dies. Feel free to jump in any time. Noobs, strangers, drive-bys and one-comment-wonders — all are welcome.
7. If you want your fabulous prize, you have to entrust me with a mailing address. If you’ve won before, send me your address again. I don’t keep good records.
8. The new DeadPool will begin 6pm WBT (Weasel’s Blog Time) the Friday after the last round is concluded.
The winner, if the winner chooses to entrust me with a mailing address, will receive an Official Certificate of Dick Winning and a small original drawing on paper suffused with elephant shit particles. Because I’m fresh out of fairy shit particles.
December 8, 2023 — 6:00 pm
Comments: 47
Old woman is lost and confused
I thought for sure I’d called a new Dead Pool when Kissinger died. He was a fan favorite. Apparently, I did not.
So when I called it for Norman Lear, I thought it was a whole ‘nother Dead Pool. It was not.
Unwinning someone seems a churlish move, so I will recognize TheFritz as the proper winner of Dead Pool 172, and Armybrat a co-winner by way of my incompetence. It has been done before, ISTR.
Rich Rostrum, as usual, pulled me up on it. Rich, for accounting purposes, would you prefer I called Armybrat’s win DP 173?
The picture is the first row of examples when you give the prompt lost and confused old woman to Craiyon.com. These were the least worst – one old dear looked like she was bleeding from the eyes.
And no, none of these old women look a thing like me.
December 7, 2023 — 7:49 pm
Comments: 6
Welp, I’ve done it
I’ve done it. I’ve taken an oath to the King. I’m sure at least a few of my ancestors are rolling their eyeballs in hell. Here’s what I had to say:
I, Stoaty Weasel, swear by Almighty God that, on becoming a British citizen, I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King Charles III, his Heirs and Successors, according to law.
I will give my loyalty to the United Kingdom and respect its rights and freedoms. I will uphold its democratic values. I will observe its laws faithfully and fulfil my duties and obligations as a British citizen.
I had the option to take the oath in Welsh. Are you ready? Back up:
Yr wyf i, Stoaty Weasel, yn tyngu i Dduw Hollalluog y byddaf i, ar ôl dod yn ddinesydd Prydeinig, yn ffyddlon ac yn wir deyrngar i’w Fawrhydi y Brenin Charles y Trydydd, ei Etifeddion a’i Olynwyr, yn unol â’r gyfraith.
Rhoddaf fy nheyrngarwch i’r Deyrnas Unedig a pharchaf ei hawliau a’i rhyddidau. Arddelaf ei gwerthoedd democrataidd. Glynaf yn ffyddlon wrth ei chyfreithiau a chyflawnaf fy nyletswyddau a’m rhwymedigaethau fel dinesydd Prydeinig.
How is this even a language?
So that’s it. My last bit of British legalese. I’ve already registered to vote and started my passport application.
The process was: biometrics, Fiancee Visa, Further Leave to Remain, Life in the UK Test, Indefinite Leave to Remain, Naturalisation application (with added biometrics!). My prospects as a cat burglar are doomed. I’m sure I’m missing a couple of hoops in there.
If you would like a look down memory lane, the keyword is weaselimportlicense. The very first post is How to get a Weasel Import License, Part the First – October 3, 2008. What a long, strange trip it’s been.
p.s. I love the way both the lion and the unicorn are sticking their tongues out. The lion is doing a full Gene Simmons.
Oh, and Norman Lear has copped it. Congratz to Army Brat and new Dead Pool Friday. These things are getting shorter and shorter.
December 6, 2023 — 7:37 pm
Comments: 15
Vampire meows
We went to a popup cat cafe, y’all! It was a trip.
You have to pre-book and pay in one-hour increments. When we turned up, it was full of screaming little girls, which was less than optimum. But the cats were all around five or six months old, so they were just the age to love screaming little girls waving cat toys.
All the cats in this group were from Romania. I guess Romania has an awful track record for animal welfare so they’re working with a charity there. They all come over completely feral, so it was remarkable how socialized they have already become. I didn’t get bitten or growled at once, though Uncle B had his leg climbed like a telegraph pole by a kitten in search of his fruitcake.
We were warned that all the cats are partial to people food. I had to make some quick moves with the milk jug.
The cat in the picture is Ziggy, who was all white with a black spot on his head. His sister is all black with a white tip to her tail.
We didn’t bring anybody home, though.
December 5, 2023 — 7:47 pm
Comments: 7
Worked for me
The power of opportunistically clicking links: yesterday, I hit the link for the Daily Wire’s new comedy movie Lady Ballers and it inexplicably let me watch the whole movie without being a subscriber.
It was surprisingly good. It wasn’t one long cross-dressing joke, either; it had lots of side gags and easter eggs. I mean, sure, if you catch most of the references, we probably follow the same people on Xwitter, but it didn’t feel like pandering or forced messaging. It felt like they genuinely set out to make a funny film.
Nearly the whole cast is amateurs – in fact, many of them are pundits with the Daily Wire – and I’m afraid it felt like it in places. I hate being forced to admit that professional actors have an actual skill. But it wasn’t enough to ruin it. I’d watch it again.
Sadly, it doesn’t look like I can do it for free for a while. If you hit the link above, it’ll ask you to sign in to your account. For the next twelve hours, they’re going half price on an annual membership – $6.50 a month – but I don’t want to see it seventy eight bucks worth. Come to think of it, they might not even let me sign up from outside the US.
Worth considering if you had kids, though. I understand their children’s programming is genuinely good. And not just Disney+ for MAGA, but genuinely thoughtful.
December 4, 2023 — 7:15 pm
Comments: 4
Dead Pool 173: My, it’s cold in here
‘Tis the season of old Dead Pool favorites falling off the perch. Kissinger. Huh. At last. Congratulations to thefritz.
I wonder if anybody ever called him Hank. I’m guessing not.
Get ready – here we go!
0. Rule Zero (AKA Steve’s Rule): your pick has to be living when picked. Also, nobody whose execution date is circled on the calendar. Also, please don’t kill anybody. Plus (Pupster’s Rule) no picking someone who’s only famous for being the oldest person alive.
1. Pick a celebrity. Any celebrity — though I reserve the right to nix picks I never heard of (I don’t generally follow the Dead Pool threads carefully, so if you’re unsure of your pick, call it to my attention).
2. We start from scratch every time. No matter who you had last time, or who you may have called between rounds, you have to turn up on this very thread and stake your claim.
3. Poaching and other dirty tricks positively encouraged.
4. Your first choice sticks. Don’t just blurt something out, m’kay? Also, make sure you have a correct spelling of your choice somewhere in your comment. These threads get longish and I use search to figure out if we have a winner.
5. It’s up to you to search the thread and make sure your choice is unique. I’m waayyyy too lazy to catch the dupes. Popular picks go fast.
6. The pool stays open until somebody on the list dies. Feel free to jump in any time. Noobs, strangers, drive-bys and one-comment-wonders — all are welcome.
7. If you want your fabulous prize, you have to entrust me with a mailing address. If you’ve won before, send me your address again. I don’t keep good records.
8. The new DeadPool will begin 6pm WBT (Weasel’s Blog Time) the Friday after the last round is concluded.
The winner, if the winner chooses to entrust me with a mailing address, will receive an Official Certificate of Dick Winning and a small original drawing on paper suffused with elephant shit particles. Because I’m fresh out
December 1, 2023 — 6:00 pm
Comments: 44
I got receipts!
I beat Uncle B about the head and shoulders with an inflated pig’s bladder until he rendered up the recipe. For the cake curious:
The Receipt
8 oz butter
8 oz soft dark brown sugar (ideally muscovado)
1 tablespoon black treacle
Grated peel of 1 lemon
4 medium sized eggs
9oz plain flour
1 tsp mixed spice
1/2 nutmeg grated
4 oz glace cherries
4 oz ground almonds
2 tablespoon sherry or brandy
The Method (Stavislavski did not know about this)
Cream the softened butter with a wooden spoon. Beat it, in fact. It owed you everything and is very lazy.
Add the sugar and treacle (keep beating – it will work eventually if you force it to). Sieve the flour and spices into the mix, stirring thoroughly. Beat the eggs (S&M time again) then stir into the mix, a little at a time. Add the fruit. If you can’t get mixed fruit, choose your own combination of currants, raisins and sultanas with mixed peel in proportions to taste. Also add grated lemon peel, nutmeg and brandy or sherry at this stage. Also ground almonds.
Stir it all very thoroughly, folding it all in, (an electric mixer will help but a wooden spoon is better – tradition!).
Place the gloppy mixture into an 8″ round cake tin lined with buttered greaseproof paper or baking parchment. Take several thick sheets of brown paper (newspaper works as well) and wrap the tin with it, tying it with string (not nylon string!). Cut a further piece of greaseproof to sit on top of the cake but cut a hole in the middle about 1″ diameter -coin size and shape.
Bake in the middle of an oven at 300 Fahrenheit for 3 1/2-4 hours. After three hours take a look at it. If the mixture is coming way from the sides of the tin, it may be on the way, so turn the oven down a little and pop hem (see Eliza Acton for why ‘hem’ is correct) back in. When the top seems golden brown and the mix is slightly away from the sides you can insert a skewer (if not, a long toothpick). If that comes out without any mix stuck to it, yer cake’s done.
This is important! Leave it to thoroughly cool, then carefully extract from the tin (I like spring loaded cake tins with removable bases). When absolutely cool, wrap in two sheets of greaseproof and silver foil after that. Store in a tin.
A week later, unwrap your cake. Cackle merrily and prick it with a toothpick until it confesses and then feed it with two tablespoons of brandy. My Canadian relatives use whisky, but Canadians, eh?
Repeat weekly. Be certain to drink what is left over from feeding the cake. Icing I don’t do…nor marzipan…
God save King Big Ears!…on second thoughts…maybe you lot were right after all. They say New Hampshire is nice at this time of the year.
Do they make worm pies there?
Henry Kissinger has fallen off the perch at last. Let us congregate here tomorrow for DEAD POOL 173.
November 30, 2023 — 7:53 pm
Comments: 6
I’m reduced to this
We’ve finally reached the advanced age and modest level of prosperity that we want for nothing. If we desire a thing during the year, we buy it. If something breaks, we replace it right away.
Which is fine and all, except…Christmas. We are both utterly stumped for gifts. We neither of us collect things or have hobbies. We don’t like to travel or eat out and we dress like hobos by choice.
I’m reduced to cruising Ebay for quirk. Quirk is bad, y’all. Uncle B hates whimsy. At this rate, it’ll be an antique French mustache cup and a box of chocolates under the tree.
Wait, I’m’a try a little ginspiration.
November 29, 2023 — 8:45 pm
Comments: 13
Smells really nice, actually
This past Sunday was Stir-Up Sunday, the last one before Advent. So named for the day’s scripture from the Book of Common Prayer: “Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people…”
It is the day British housewives cook their Christmas cakes and puddings. Or, in our case, British badgers do so.
Not being a religious sort of mustelid, though, he waited until today to start his Christmas cake. It smells lovely and spicy, to be honest, but I don’t touch the stuff. I’m not fond of dried fruit and I really, really hate booze in food. Brits make it five weeks before Christmas so there’s plenty of time to feed it dollops of brandy every few days.
You’re not supposed to drive after eating a big wodge of the stuff.
If you’d like to see it big and in color, here you go. I understand he has meticulously documented every step of the process. If you’re into cake porn, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to share the recipe.
November 28, 2023 — 7:42 pm
Comments: 6
You shot the wrong train, Fritz
“On Friday 27th November 1942 a German fighter was brought down by a railway engine when a steam hauled train was attacked near Lydd in Kent. The exploding boiler brought down the Fw190 killing the pilot. Remarkably the crew of the loco survived and the engine was repaired.” From this xweet.
Huh. We drove through Lydd this afternoon. This part of the country got seriously torn up during the war because German planes going home just dumped any munitions they had left on their way back from whatever their mission was. I mean, machine guns down the high street kind of thing.
Changing the subject, I’m kinda bummed. I went to one of my favorite sites for local news and found a message at the top saying they were shutting down in three days.
“However, it is no secret that changes in the media landscape and decisions made by large tech platforms have made life much harder for all media businesses.”
I wonder what, specifically, that means?
November 27, 2023 — 7:55 pm
Comments: 5