I had it exactly backwards
The word ‘chintzy’ drifted across my consciousness this afternoon. By the diktat of my new lockdown rules, that means I had to look up ‘chintz’.
I knew it was a fabric. I was astonished to learn it isn’t so much. It’s more about the style of decoration. It originated in 16th Century India – the word is derived from the Hindi chīnt, meaning spotted or freckled. It’s about the busy, often floral block prints.
But chintz was often printed on calico, another word I completely misunderstood. Calico is a rough fabric made from unbleached cotton, and by ‘unbleached’ I mean not fully processed so there’s still bits of shit in it. Also from India, 16th C, named after the city of Calicut (not to be confused with Calcutta).
So gaudy print + cheap fabric = chintzy. I thought calico was the decoration and chintz was the fabric. I was bassackwards.
And while we’re here, muslin (a much more refined woven cotton than calico) was named for Mosul, as in Iraq. Where it isn’t actually from.
And that’s the end of today’s edition of “Things You Could Damn Well Have Looked Up on Wikipedia Yourownself If You Cared.”
January 26, 2021 — 6:02 pm
Comments: 16
Ain’t nobody got time for that…
One side effect of being on Twitter so much is learning how many people have, or are planning to have, podcasts. Or YouTube rant channels or whatever.
Some of them I maybe, sorta have an interest in topically – but holy geez, they’re so long! Hours, some of them.
And they all start off with their intro (okay, branding, I get it) and then they natter on for a while about their schedule for the next week and what they’re playing on Twitch afterwards. I mean, you’re five, ten minutes in and they still haven’t said anything on-topic. I DON’T HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN.
Surely, there isn’t a market for so much content from the same angle. And who has time for this? Who has two hours to be captive? You can skim a headline aggregator in seconds. Done.
p.s. yes, I’m trying to wean myself off Twitter. I need a project.
p.p.s. have a good weekend, everyone!
January 22, 2021 — 7:49 pm
Comments: 16
Everything is stupid. Let’s laugh at these women.
The photo is described as “Women wear plastic headgear intended to protect the wearer from snowstorms in Montreal, 1939.” I mean, I guess.
That’s all I’ve got the heart for. I’ve spent most of the evening in bed under an electric blanket.
Quaint Tudor farmhouses were not built for comfort; there’s a reason they invited the cows into the house.
January 18, 2021 — 9:23 pm
Comments: 7
Dead Pool Round 138: 2021 wears army boots
Mrs Carl wins it with Tanya Roberts, best known as the Bond girl in View to a Kill. This Dead Pool should have happened last Friday, but I warn’t paying attention.
I do a lot of that lately.
Are we ready?
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.
January 15, 2021 — 6:00 pm
Comments: 72
Clap for the NHS, my ass
Let me tell you a story about the NHS.
I get my blood pressure meds from the pharmacy attached to my local clinic. Since the onset of covid, you don’t go in the building to access the drugs, they serve you from one of the 3 windows facing the parking lot.
On the window is a sign: please knock.
Today, as I walked up to this window, I made eye contact with one of the pharmacists inside. So I think to myself, “she saw me, no need to knock, I’ll let her finish what she’s doing.”
And I wait. And I wait. It is the middle of January and it’s lightly drizzling. I am not a young woman. I am gray of hair and wrinkled of visage.
And still I wait. I have now made brief eye contact with two of the three pharmacists working inside, all of whom can easily see there’s a person standing there. In the rain.
If I knock now, I think, it’ll look like I’m trying to rush them, since it’s obvious I’m here. I still don’t quite believe what I suspect is happening.
After a while, an elderly man joins me in the queue, six foot behind, naturally. A while after that, an elderly woman joins behind him. We are three old people standing in the Winter’s rain.
Now I’m kinda mad, but I’m also socially awkward. A better woman would have made a fuss, I know that, but I am a coward. I turn to the man behind me and say, “you try.”
He goes up, knocks on the window, gets served instantly. After which they serve me and the other old woman.
The sign said knock, comrade.
There are people who are loving this new world of rules and procedures. I hope some form of polite society survives them.
January 14, 2021 — 6:17 pm
Comments: 18
Well, we made it. Huh.
It doesn’t feel any different to me. Does it feel any different to you?
Our bottle of limey fizz was lovely. I’m told there were fireworks nearby, but we didn’t hear them. There were fireworks in London after all and I don’t want to talk about it.
Have a better one, everyone! That’s the most I’m holding out hope for.
p.s. I pinched the image from here. It’s a Feng Shui store in Hemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire. Which I find amusing for reasons I can’t fully explain.
January 1, 2021 — 8:39 pm
Comments: 13
Oh, no!
They originally said it would be here today. Folks, that’s my booze order!
Never mind. I’ll just have to dip into the strategic gin reserves. As dog is my witness, I shall not face Christmas sober.
See you tomorrow!
December 24, 2020 — 4:31 pm
Comments: 11
Errrrr…
This is the photo the Daily Mail used to illustrate the terrible floods happening in Venice again. Stay classy, urinalists.
Visit the link. That’s the reddest of scarlet dresses.
And yes, ExpressoBold has won the Dead Pool with Chuck Yeager. The more tributes I read, the more he sounds like the most badassical of men.
You know what that means, Sweaseleers. New Dead Pool Friday, 6 WBT.
December 8, 2020 — 8:37 pm
Comments: 10
Just in Time for Christmas!
Yay! A mailing from the Museum of Bad Art!
The theme of this year’s 16-month calendar is “DOPPLEHANGERS – An examination of paintings from the MOBA Collection that, accidentally or by design, resemble famous people.” MOBA merch including calendar here.
It’s one of my two regrets about leaving the States that I never visited the Museum of Bad Art in person, though I worked nearby. (The other is not spending the night at the Lizzie Borden B&B).
They totally redesigned their website, I see. Most of these paintings are unfamiliar and my favorites aren’t there.
You can see most of the collection online. Many’s the evening I got a snootful of joy juice and had a cruel snicker at some other poor artist’s expense. My secret nightmare is finding something of mine has made the grade (I left a lot of old, unfinished art at the curb when I left).
November 30, 2020 — 8:05 pm
Comments: 6
Pulling faces
Well, I see Anthony Hopkins is handling the lockdown well. The scarlet of his cheeks is really bringing out the blue of his eyes.
My dad did a lot of that toward the end of his life: gurning into his ipad. I’m not sure why. He couldn’t see himself, he was making faces at me. It’s like he was saying, “look, honey! I’m an old man! Amazing!”
It must be fun to be a famous villain. I’d have no end of game glaring at people. Margaret Hamilton, described as the nicest woman in Hollywood, said kids on the street would run away from her screaming. I wonder if she ever shouted after them, “and your little dog, too!”
Link goes to Twitter. I’ve decided my spleen can only take Twitter in five-minute chunklets. My desire to know what’s going on is perfectly balanced against the rage-making insanity that is social media.
November 24, 2020 — 9:23 pm
Comments: 5