sweasel.com

You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little distracted tonight. I’ve been searching old copies of the Times (the original one), trying to learn more about this house.

And for one horrifying moment, I thought this place was once known as Great Fagg Farm.

Huh. Well you know that’s what we’re all gonna call it now right?

Good lord, he really is an overgrown teenager. Republicans sipping on slurpees? Everyone knows that the metaphorical drink that rich, uncaring Republicans imbibe while watching Democrats struggle and strain is the cocktail. Or is that too grown up a reference for the Boy President?

Andrea (and others here) if you haven’t seen Iowahawk’s extended take on the car/Slurpee analogy, it’s worth a read. In Obamaland (as explained by Mr. Burge) the Republicans are asshole upperclassmen laughing and sipping while Obama tries to get granny’s Maverick out of the ditch.

I thought it was Badger Farm, and the Manor was Badger House?

I actually quite like Coca Cola Slurpees.

When I was a lad, yes I digress it’s what I do best, I worked at a convenience store. Not 7-11, but they sold a competing product, slushee, or snarfy, or some such.

I actually got held up for a large blue cola one, to go natch. And, a case of beer. Jeebus, can you imagine getting shot for a Slurpee, and a case of Bud? Working at a convenience store in the south, in the sticks, can be both an enlightening experience, as well as a psychotic one.

Allen, that’s why my generic term for that sort of place is “Stop&Rob”

Regards,
Ric

Stoaty, I don’t think the usage is 422 years old. To brits, the word meant “a cigarette” as recently as 1969, on the testimony of one Geoffrey Marsh, originally of Lancs., illegal alien in (at that time) five countries, if I recall correctly.

And count your blessings. It could have been Lower Fagg Farm. Or Fagg Bottom Farm…

Regards,
Ric

On second thought, I will have a Slurpee tomorrow. And keeping Andrea’s injunction in mind, I shall imbibe wearing a monocle, cravat, and top hat. If feasible I shall offer a street urchin a nickel to carry my portmanteau. Also I shall look for opportunities to address tradesmen as “My good man.”

Allen – one of my jobs in college was as night clerk at a 7-11. This one was off a freeway ramp (I-5 if you know the west coast) north of San Diego. The area was a junction between City of San Diego and County, so all night long I’d have the CHP, SD Sheriffs, and SDPD stopping by for coffee. My store never got held up.

Zero will never get brain freeze; the warmth from his colon will prevent that.

Let’s make Hopechangelo suck on that stupid Slurpee metaphor until he gets the Mother of All Brain Freezes.

You have to have a brain in the first place…all he has is those packing peanuts and bubble wrap.

Oh, god, yes — Iowahawk’s extended Slurpee metaphor is a work of art. Dude is a sooper genius.

I’ve been digging around in the property for sale archives. There was a Great Fagg Farm and a Little Fagg Farm, so they weren’t lonely, bless ’em.

Allen, Allen, Allen – You KNOW it wasn’t a case of Bud. It had to be a case of Schlitz Malt Liquor! They won’t settle for anything less.

Oh dear –

Has Uncle Badger been taste-testing your wine experiments, or is this just a pre-halloween phase, he’s going through? Perhaps brain-freeze enraged him?

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/8059257/Badgers-dig-up-human-bones-in-graveyard.html

Actually, I think the whole Slurpee obsession is a case of unresolved childhood envy. BHO’s ‘favorite’ treat is the Shave Ice he always got back in Hawaii.

Evidently Slurpee’s were reserved for just the rich kids. Which, as everyone knows, come in better, jucier flavors than the lame assed ‘Shave Ice’ that comes in a wussy paper cone. Heck, they didn’t even have a straw. Damn that glass ceiling that held back his dirt poor grandmother at her bank VP job! How could she ever afford such a luxury?

I say, Stoaty’s looking very fetching in her new outfit!

http://piperredfern.blogspot.com/2008/09/ive-been-asked-couple-of-times-in.html

Huh. One of my great-great-grandfathers was named Francis Filmore Fagg. Only one L, so probably no connection to President Millard.

Alll I know is his name, and that he begat six children (one of them my great-grandmother).

Geez, tawny — a ferret sweater? Isn’t that, like, a sock with the toe out and two holes for the front legs?

Geez, tawny — a ferret sweater? Isn’t that, like, a sock with the toe out and two holes for the front legs?

I suppose it gives the chance for the less experienced knitter to make something that will actually be worn (if only by an unfortunate animal wiith no ability to complain). 🙂