Look! Adorable bunny!
My computer has been acting flakey again. I’ve been gremlin hunting tonight, so I thought I might fob you off with a three-year-old picture of an adorable bunny.
Consider yourself fobbed.
May 22, 2014 — 10:39 pm
Comments: 25
A hearty bowl of cultural goulash
This might be an “only in Britain” kind of thing. It’s a Channel 4 documentary television program called Gogglebox. They film families watching television. Watching people watch television. For reals.
You can get a flavor of the show here. Bear in mind this is a fan collection of favorite moments, which might give you a sense of what the boring bits are like.
Which puts me in mind of the very interesting book Watching the English. The author points out that while many, many countries have long-running soap operas, they are usually about rich and glamorous people. British soap operas are all about chavs. It’s extraordinary, when you think about it.
In theory, these two people aren’t chavs. On Gogglebox, they are known as “the posh ones.” They have good accents (a thing of which the British are acutely aware) and they’re usually half sloshed on wine. So. Posh.
In real life, they own a 16 bedroom Grade I listed mansion in Kent which they run as a B&B. It’s called Salutation. It’s on the market. Which might explain why they rented it out for a masked orgy.
The article is weirdly indiscreet about it. A private swinger’s club called Killing Kittens (ew) rented it for the modest sum of £1,700 for the night. Then they charged 60 people £500 apiece to turn up for oysters and champagne and sex in all the nooks and crannies. Of the house.
You know what? Yuk. I’m sorry I typed all that. Just forget I said anything.
May 21, 2014 — 10:36 pm
Comments: 20
Here’s a strange one
You won’t be surprised to learn I spend a lot of time browsing art online. There are some astonishing people in concept art today (above, Popeye by Lee Romao). Love that sweet, sweet eye candy.
There are lots of group art sites, duh. Storage is a burden, but building an art site is still an attractive prospect — the kind of proposition where users jostle to provide your content for you.
Over the last few years — as usually happens with anything online — one site pulled ahead and became pretty much the standard for digital artists. Lots of illustrators used it as their main online portfolio showcase. I spent many a happy hour there, catching up with my favorites.
I won’t link, because CG Hub is gone. About six weeks ago, the URL went flakey and people assumed they’d forgotten to renew their domain name or something. Then the developer released a terse and strange message:
No more CGHUB. Sad day. Project CGHUB is officially closed. The reason behind this extremely tough decision is personal and will remain private. It’s absolutely not connected with business or any kind of technical difficulties. On behalf of development team I would like to apologize to CGHUB users and fans for abrupt project closure and delay with its announcement. – The Shakuro Team
Personal and private? The hell? There was even a for-pay mode and they’ve been busily refunded moneys.
The only thing I can glean is that the developers and owner of the name were different entities, and at odds. The development team has launched a Kickstarter to rebuild the site under a new name, but I don’t imagine they’ll prevail. By the time they get anything going, the circus will have moved on.
Art Station looks pretty cool.
May 20, 2014 — 9:46 pm
Comments: 7
Ladies and gentlemen, a lamb attacking a grey heron in a field of buttercups
You know, you guys, I would totally forgive you if you came to the conclusion I just sat around and made shit up. I labor myself under a constant feeling of, “wait, that thing that just happened. Did that just happen?”
I’ve posted about the Hungarian laughing frogs before. They’re not native; they were imported to the area in the Thirties, but they like it here just fine. They’re all over the south of England now, and in the early Summer, during mating season, they chuckle and cackle and make the place sound like a madhouse for a couple of months.
They also attract herons, like this bad boy. Our neighbor came over for tea (ugh, yes) and noticed him in the field next door. You have to stand and look through a gap in the hedge to see this field, so we all did that. And just as we did a lamb, for some unfathomable reason, decided he didn’t care for this snooty bird and went for him.
Uncle B was quick enough to get a few shots of it, this being the best. The outcome was disappointing; it just petered out listlessly. Worst steel cage match ever.
Happy to note, the heron was back today in the same spot, gigging frogs.
May 19, 2014 — 10:14 pm
Comments: 13
I don’t see scorch marks. Do you see scorch marks?
No doubt, y’all have seen the video of Tara the Hero Cat, internet sensation, rescuer of small boys and chaser-offer of wicked dogs.
Couple of things about the video that struck me. First, the family appears to have three different video cameras trained on the outside of the house (it looks like such a nice neighborhood!). And second, that dog seems to be hunting toddlers. He either hears or smells the boy before catching sight of him, and races around the corner to attack.
Black Shuck is another dog in the news this week. He’s one of Britain’s many legendary black dogs, but with a more specific history than most.
The story goes, an enormous black dog burst into a Suffolk church in 1577 during a howling gale (leaving, supposedly scorch marks on the door, pictured), ran up the aisle and killed a man and a boy, then ran off again. He became a local fixture (not to say legend) thereafter, though subsequent stories are short on specifics.
You know, I can believe it? Somebody’s dog getting loose, running a long distance from home, panicking in a thunderstorm and going violently mad in a crowd of people. Then, you know, thereafter being a menace to solitary walkers in lonely spots.
Last year, an archeological dig at nearby Leiston Abbey turn up the skeleton of an absolutely enormous dog. Estimated at seven feet, standing on its back legs, and a very old burial. The bones haven’t been dated yet, but the team will be back this Summer to dig again.
It was buried near the kitchen in the Abbey and is surely a beloved pet or guard dog. I’m sure if the monks slew the beast, the story would have come down to us somehow. But still there’s all kinds of excitement that they might’ve dug up ol’ Shuck.
This dig — like a lot of archeology in Britain — is funded by the lottery. This almost inclines me to pay the Stupid Tax and pick up a weekly ticket. Good weekend, all!
May 16, 2014 — 10:41 pm
Comments: 23
Hen in the sunshine
It was fine and hot today, and Maggie got to sit in the sunshine and peck bugs out of the grass. Which, for a chicken, is heaven.
If you’re just joining us, Maggie is my crippled chicken. A fox turned up and panicked the flock last September. We think. They were safely locked up, but we came home to find agitated chooks, feathers everywhere and I think Maggie banged her spine somehow.
Her legs don’t work from the knees down. Yes, chickens have knees, although comparative anatomy would suggest it’s technically more like ankles I’m talking about. The bendy bit in the middle. It doesn’t work.
Medical opinion had it there was a chance the nerve was just bruised and she’d recover, given time. It’s been eight months. It ain’t happening.
But she’s alert. She has a good appetite. She gobbles up treats and shows an interest in her surroundings. She’s really no more trouble than the other chickens. I’m going to stick with her as long as she wants to stick with us.
Since Maggie’s accident, I’ve probably eaten upwards of fifty chickens without shedding a tear. But this is *my* chicken. The heart has its reasons. Shut up.
May 15, 2014 — 10:29 pm
Comments: 21
GAH!!
Do you ever go to Pravda Online? I do from time to time. I’m never sure how seriously I’m expected to take it. The articles range from absurdly jingoistic to just absurd.
Worth a browse, if you’re bored. Especially in times when Russia’s in the headlines.
Anyhoo, at the bottom of Pravda today: pencil sketches of Hollywood stars. No explanation. Jesus. They have to be images sent in by children…don’t they?
Be sure to look at them all. I’ll have you begging for ass bruise pictures.
May 14, 2014 — 10:09 pm
Comments: 12
This is the best ass bruise you will see today
Londoner goes to a stag do in Poland, falls through table, is protected from grievous spinal cord injury by the wings of an angel, I guess.
Don’t mean to be running a nudity blog up in here but, you know, Britain is my beat, and so many silly things happen in Britain. Silly, naked things.
That item is from a free London paper called the Metro. Whenever we go to London, I always find a copy of it on the train, but they also have an online presence. Please join me in sampling the delights:
Lonely Serb rejected by 5,000 ladies of Facebook. For sale on eBay: uber creepy doll. Also on eBay: a set of six twigs found in London’s de Beauvoir Square.
Instead of picking it up, Sussex council paints its dogshit hot pink. Conjoined twins are always good. Soylent Beige. You probably shouldn’t click that. Come to that, you probably shouldn’t click this, either.
Just so you think it isn’t all tea parties and cucumber sandwiches over here.
p.s. Though we did go to a tea party this weekend, and there were cucumber sandwiches. So, sometimes it’s tea parties and cucumber sandwiches.
May 13, 2014 — 9:52 pm
Comments: 17
Bounce
The first ever naked ping pong tournament took place this weekend in a private room in the Holborn Club in London. According to this article, ’twas the very spot where table tennis was invented in 1901. (Wikipedia disputes that, but really, who the hell cares?).
There are some artfully posed publicity stills at the link. I’m guessing the actual event was more than a little silly, with all that junk bobbling around.
Yeah, the club is really called Bounce. Didn’t make that up.
According to Pixy Misa’s Twitter feed, Ace had a catastrophic server crash today. In case you were wondering. They expect to get it up and running later today.
May 12, 2014 — 8:55 pm
Comments: 11
*spit*
One last bit of ironmongery. Sorry the focus is none too good, but it’s dark in the kitchen. Note the whirring thingamabob on top: this is a clockwork mechanism to turn the spit, to roast the beast before the fire. The rope leads to a weight which would have to be cranked back to the top periodically. Put some boy out of a job, this newfangled contraption did.
One of our cookery books points out that most of us have never had real roast beef — what we call roast beef is really baked beef. And when you think about the difference between a rotisserie chicken and one from the oven, you’ll realize that’s true.
The posts this week are from Michelham Priory, which we visited on Sunday. As the guide explained to us, a priory was kind of like the social services of the day. Unlike the monasteries, which were shut off from the public, the staff in the priory were priests intended to minister to outsiders. They gave food and shelter to the poor and nursed the sick.
Like all the others, this one was disbanded by Hank the Eighth, but luckily for us lived on as a private residence. Or a piece of it lived on, anyway.
Right. What time is it, kids? It’s Dead Pool time! Well, it will be tomorrow at 6WBT!
May 8, 2014 — 11:05 pm
Comments: 17