Feb 19, 2012

New girl friend

It's been sickish around here for fully a week. Just a cold, bad enough to slow a fellow down to idle speed plus maybe a  hundred rpm or so. Yesterday I gave up and took to my bed -- couch, actually -- with the electric teevee on. The nap lasted close to 18 hours, broken only for the demands of biology,  human and canine.

It ended around 2 a.m with a cheerful awakening, the bugs either in retreat or on a tactical stand down, leaving me with an appetite an an attitude tolerant enough to actually focus on the flat screen where I saw most of:

Among Giants, c. 1998, from the Brits and featuring an actress to whom I've never paid attention.  She's an Aussie lass named Rachel Griffiths. Here she is Gerry, also an Aussie, a rock climber who hooked up with a crew of tower painters working in the  British Moors.  I spare you my plot summary. You can always Bing it if you want. But I foist upon you my view that Ms. Griffiths is a woman to behold, even though the skin magazines wouldn't be terribly interested. Not quite enough chin, nothing-much hair, an ordinary figure. So the attraction comes from what? I don't know and probably couldn't articulate it if I did. Probably just something unusually alive in her which the cameras can't help but catch.


In any case, I wish to thank Australia for producing her and the British film industry for bringing her to my  tellie.  For the latter it represents a great leap forward from The Barnicles of Wimply Street.


If you happen to be in my neighborhood, Ms. Griffiths ....

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Feb 18, 2012

Tally Ho. PUULLL. Splash One.

Out on a South Kalinky plantation, a gathering of gentlemen organized a live pigeon shoot. Well-sensitized and organized souls objected.

"We'll fix them," the SHARKs (SHowing Animals Respect and Kindness, /sigh/) resolved. Then they sent their little drone helicopter to spook the birds.  The hunt was off.  Well, almost off.


"Seconds after it hit the air, numerous shots rang out," (Senior SHARK Steve) Hindi said in the release. "As an act of revenge for us shutting down the pigeon  slaughter, they had shot down our copter?"

Steve, ol' buddy, we detect a surprised tone in your wail. Let us review:

A bunch of heavily armed  guys gathered for a a legal -- if admittedly obnoxious -- "sport."  They were loaded to knock small flying things out of the sky. You badly pissed them off by sending a small but noisy flying object into the sky. And you expected  what, you dingbat? An invitation back to the plantation house for a few chuckles over bourbon and branch?

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H/T Jon via email

Entertaining the Shieks

So that's what those guys do when they're not actually drilling.


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Half-staffing Whitney Houston

The teevee stations are getting entirely too much free programming fodder out of this one.

Whitney Houston was an entertainer, wildly popular among one set of Americans, and if her fans want to fly their flags at half-mast, more power to them. Those objecting to so-honoring a gifted junkie are free to two-block Old Glory this morning -- as are the folks who don't give a damn one way or another.

I think most of us were weary of the half-ass half-staff posturing slugs after about the third heated exchange on Fox or MSNBC, depending on where we go for our daily dose of idiocy.

I'll start listening again if someone will direct me to a good argument for allowing a successful politician -- say Christie or Obama, just for instance --  to decide which deaths are to be extraordinarily and officially mourned and which are routine, bury and forget.

Meanwhile I stick with a belief that we hire these clowns to administer their departments in a business-like fashion. Period. We're pretty much able to find our own source of grief counselling, symbolic gestures advice, etc. all by ourselves.