Somebody asked me to remove a post so i (skeptically) tried logging on + lo + behold found these dudes still going at it!
In the nameless midwest a puppy encounters a force he doesn’t understand.
Music: “Evil Ball” by Sinoia Caves
There is something grotesque to me about there being this wonderful steakhouse St Elmó, and then just up the street the linguistically repellant chain steakhouse “Ruth’s Chris,” whatever that means, opens up shop. I feel like the people should take to the streets with pitchforks to protest that shit. Similarly, we need to shut down the TGI Fridays in Union Square; let’s take a tactic from the anti-abortion protestors and make people need an escort to get a mudslide fifteen paces from the greenmarket.
The good soldier of cinema. I kept calling him that and he kept calling me that. He saw in me a good soldier in cinema. I said you are even more. He was a wounded soldier. He was ill and struggled and was still plowing on relentlessly. And that was completely and utterly admirable and I love him for that.
This is an April Fools’ prank from those wacky knuckleheads at Procter & Gamble, but with an enduring appeal. Maybe we shouldn’t joke about bacon?
(via BBC America)
Humunga Stache Durable Dog Toy. Go indognito to the park with this fun toy! For the pooch with a good sense of humor; this shiny black toy is a ball on one end and a giant cartoon mustache on the other. Dogs naturally pick up the ball leaving an outrageously funny mustache sticking out! Dogs also love to hold the ball in their mouth and shake the mustache back and forth! Get your pup a stache today!!
(via The Gadget Flow)
We have dug out the drive. We now have martinis. Dan’s in the bath. I’m watching this on Netflix:
I’m reminded once Daryl said something about digging when he gets mad. So I’m thinking of Daryl. And Cindy. And y’all.
With its incredible heating power, the television solar beam is not for the inexperienced, and should only be built and used by capable adults.
Clusterflock.com? More like Cluster-steal ideas from other blogs just because noboody reads them so it’s easy to get away with.com
What’s the word for when people steal ideas from other people and then fail to properly cite the person who had the original – and usually much funnier – idea in the first place? You know that thing that college kids are always being kicked out of school for?
Oh, that’s right. It’s murder. Clusterflock is guilty of murder.
From the blog of William Wegman, famous photographer of weimaraners:
Winter’s not over. You need The Napsack.
(filched from SC’s Twitter: @SCauleyDesign)
Somebody better find the god damned web guy’s email address and get him to change the year on the copyright notice, because lord knows the we’ll be fucked if someone copies and pastes this shit onto another fucking website even though they’re going to anyways if they feel like it, and like this is in any way legally actionable if they do.
The Window of the World is a theme park located in the western part of the city of Shenzhen in the People’s Republic of China. It has about 130 reproductions of some of the most famous tourist attractions in the world squeezed into 48 hectares (118 acres). The 108 metre (354 ft) tall Eiffel Tower dominates the skyline and the sight of the Pyramids and the Taj Mahal all in proximity to each other are all part of the appeal of this theme park.
The device severely divides each cookie in half and scrapes off the creme with extreme prejudice. A hatchet is involved.
Daily problems that come with living in Oymyakon include pen ink freezing, glasses freezing to people’s faces and batteries losing power. Locals are said to leave their cars running all day for fear of not being able to restart them.
Even if there was coverage for mobile phone reception the phones themselves would not work in such cold conditions.
(via The Daily Mail)
…I’ve been meandering back. I loved this question and thread.
“Compared to normal stamps, the ‘Gangnam Style’ stamp has PSY’s unique flavour stamped all over it.”
A walk anywhere during winter will discover single, lost gloves, sometimes impaled upon iron railing spikes, more often lying forlorn and trampled on pavements, in gutters. There are so many on these streets, torn black leather, rainbow-striped wool, a tiny Hello Kittty mitten, all bruised with mud, all longing to be reunited with their long gone twin. I wonder what happened that they now lie lost and hopeless in the rain. They look so sad, so lifeless.
I will take a piece of white chalk on my walk tomorrow. It will join the smooth pebble in my pocket and the tiny silver hoop earring (itself an orphaned twin), my constant walking companions, and when I see my next lost glove I will dig the chalk from my coat pocket and with fingers red from the cold and white from the chalk, I’ll crouch down and trace a white line carefully around the fallen thing, across the wrist, up the thumb, down and up and down and up just so. Then I’ll walk on, leaving the glove with its own chalk outline to show that someone noticed its passing and will be back with the forensics kit. One day.
Everyone needs a manifesto.
In a perfect world, cheese would have a mild laxative effect.
I became tired of losing the TV remote. It’s now up my butt. Watch me change channels.