…is, as with most other things, plain old stupidity.
Archive for March, 2006
Following on from the entertaining Web 2.0 site or Star Wars Character? quiz, blogrot it pleased to announce a brand new feature:
That barmy Steve Jobs just can’t make his mind up: one minute he wants to make iPods even smaller, the next he wants them visible from space:
(Zoom in here.)
Next week: Creative puts Zen Planeto into orbit around Mars.
One of the girls has brought a new book home from school today, Lettice The Bridesmaid. The book concerns a young woman called Giselle who writes to local rabbits and teaches them to dance.
“Come in, Lettice,” she laughs as Lettice (a rabbit) arrives for her dancing lesson, “I’ve got something special to show you!”
The “something special” is a wedding dress with a small boy living under it. Giselle stages an impromptu wedding rehearsal with lead roles for the small boy and the rabbit, then immediately gets married in a field, with both human and rabbit guests in attendance. The rabbits all get to sit at the front, on both the bride’s and groom’s sides. The groom looks old enough to be Giselle’s father. Giselle is beautiful but has the vacant smile of a killer.
All in all, an excellent introduction to mental illness for the younger reader.
I’m not sure how you’d manage to park a car whilst disabled and holding a badger, but maybe I’m missing the point?
Photo: Disabled badger holders only by drewm
This is one of a terrific set of photos from the riots going on in Paris at the moment. The well-humoured clown photos are eventually outnumbered by far heavier stuff. It’s a really great bit of photojournalism.
Photo: March 18, 2006 – 17:35 by Hugo*
Thom writes:
Mark!
Spotted this poster at my local branch of NatWest. It’s a pig! On WHEELS!
Thom
And so it is!
The Guardian reports today that Vinnie Jones’s greyhound has failed a dope test. For once I find myself feeling unusually sympathetic towards the great actor. Back in the 1980s our cat developed a raging amphetamines habit and it cost us a fortune in vet’s bills. I suppose with greyhounds their competitive nature just takes over and before you know it they’re out all night at Rio Ferdinand’s and “forgetting” to attend their regular screening checks.
Poor little bugger. When he’s retired and it all turns to flab he’ll look bloody ridiculous. But I suppose right now that seems a long way off and his immediate concerns are for his greyhound.
If you’re quick off the mark and have a million or so to spare, why not go wild and snap up a peerage?
If it’s already gone, here’s a look at what you could have won.
One of blogrot’s finest joke collectors has just returned from a field trip to St Petersburg. In Russia they can’t afford proper jokes so they have to make do with ones like this:
An American tourist sees two Russian workers in a field.
One is digging a line of holes in the ground, the other follows behind filling them in.
The tourist, intrigued, walks up to them and asks: “What are you two guys doing? Why is one of you digging holes then the other one filling them in again?”
One of workers replies: “And then the horse says: why the long potato?”
Geddit?? No, he didn’t really. He said, “Actually there are three of us. The comrade who plants the trees is off today.” B’dum tishski.
Putin promised the people of Russia better jokes when he came to power, but he lost Norman Wisdom to King Zog of Albania in a poker match and since then things have gone really down hill.
Barmy French couple cremated after big thaw in home-made cryogenic chamber.
No, really. Here’s a titbit:
He once told reporters that ideally he would like to open his wife’s freezer every day and tell her “Hello, I’m so glad to see you”, but that it was better it stayed shut. He said he opened it to check it every five years.
I’ll have to remember that one. “I’d love to sit and talk, dear, but it’s better if we don’t. How are you fixed for 2011?”
Given the particulars of this tragic case, anyone thinking of building their own cryogenic facility might want to consider that John Lewis offers excellent service packages on all white goods, in most cases extendable to 5 years.
I’ve recently discovered Mr.Fastfinger and am still trying to work out exactly what he does. I think if you press the right buttons he teaches you how to play wibbly-wobbly guitar solos in the style of Slash or Yngwie J Malmsteen, but I haven’t made it past the Mountain of the Tapping Dwarves yet.
“The only problem other songwriters can possibly have with James Blunt,” writes Tom Robinson, “is that he’s successful.”
Tom, allow me to respond with a few words from the man himself:
From birth in a military hospital in Tidworth, to Harrow School, to Aerospace Manufacturing Engineering, to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, to The Household Cavalry, to Kosovo, to Buckingham Palace, to a recording studio in Los Angeles. How did James get from there to here? Only James Blunt’s hairdresser knows for certain, and either he isn’t talking or James cuts his own hair, and it’s up to you to join the dots – there are ten of them on the album.
I’m sure you can see what I’m getting at.
I’m sure you’ll agree that the Yangchuanosaurus just doesn’t get enough media attention these days. Everyone seems so much more interested in Iran.
Well, let me try to “straighten the tilt” (I just made that up) with a link to some pictures of Yangchuanosauruses on Flickr. You’ll notice that most of them come from Atlanta airport in the US, the last great Yangchuanosaurus game reserve, where their natural prey (tourists) are abundant. They also love watching all the aeroplanes.
Next week: where have all the woolly mammoths gone from Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof?
When he’s a real live actor in this inspired Simpsons trailer.