My Twitter Name! My WordPress Name! In beads! Oh, the glorious things the state does to get me affirming life again and again!
Things will be coming to a head sooner rather than later…uh oh…so far, not so good!
A close friend of mine lost a close friend of hers when, due to several major disasters in his life, he decided to end his own life. He sent her a long good bye letter and a $10K check. Everyday I talk to her to try and make her feel better…in a place not friendly to complex, serious conversation.
The KngFish is in the gym! Just started…but when I can get a camera in there, I will send sweaty, manly photos.
No matter what the situation, Coffee Will Triumph, and KngFish will find the best ‘fine around! This I do swear!
Once again from Vanity Fair. The story is more interesting for the descriptions of the vast holdings of wealth hidden within the remnants of the British Empire.
Over at Althouse a commenter asks if there is a statute of limitations on the need to warn people about spoilers.
The answer is yes. How long does that statute last? You can judge that for yourself. Read further at your own risk. Continue reading “I’m here to ruin your fun.”
Your Mad Men cast in a season 6 promo pic…. More Joan please! :)
Yet another element of modern (I almost wrote that lamentable word, “civilized”) life that is Bad For You:
They cause cancer, because sleep patterns are disturbed, and, well, Science has discovered that anything that is not just like Cro-Magnon life 40,000 years ago causes cancer.
This article enthuses over the new Paris that is proposed to be not so well-lit. There IS something to be said for Paris in, say, 1591 (one of my favorite years), when it was appropriately dark at night. Henri IV was on the throne, and all was right with the world. And it was a lot simpler to knife your opponents in a back alley and throw the bodies into the Seine at 2 AM. I don’t know if the French did anything similar, but at Venice in the same period, the Doge had special soldiers who collected the murdered bodies from the canals every morning. The average was about eight—a dozen or more on good nights.
As a traditionalist, I say, turn off those damn lights and bring back stilettos. They’re much quicker than cancer.