In this, the “year of action,” a certain pea-coated dolphin friend of mine — who I must say has been given to drastic mood swings of late, something which is so completely out of character with him as to be sometimes almost physically jarring to me — showed up tonight unannounced with rare-steak Pho and a bottle of plum wine, over which we shared a pleasant evening of idle chit chat, punctuated by an unspoken (but uncomfortably mutual) dancing around the subject of current events and politics.
Turns out he’s recently taken up yoga and traded in his armored black Suburban for a two-seater BMW Z4 roadster with 7-speed Steptronic sport transmission and double clutch. That, and he got himself a lightly frosted body wave. And some skinny jeans.
I hadn’t the heart to tell him that not a bit of it was working for him. I mean, not one single bit. But I was able to choke down the plum wine without letting on my distaste for the vile stuff — which, barely chilled, is a lot like drinking the sweat wrung from a pair of tube socks worn by an especially active strawberry Daiquiri.
If one can even conceive of such a thing.
Fun fact: the socks of a Papa Doble have six toes.
He’s been hanging with PajamaBoy, hasn’t he?
ha-hah-ha-ha-hah
I don’t get it.
So if the age of empires is done and over with, then what’s with all this empire building going on…almost continuously…for the last 90 years?
Real or Photoshop?
If the former, what’s the physics behind that?
Saying you don’t get it means you’ve gotten it.
I feel better now, knowing Ernst and I had the same reaction and that I ‘get it’.
A Question Still Troubles Me: My Fnord spotting abilities have always been rather top-notch [if I ever got a tattoo, it would read: ‘I Can See The Fnords’], but – maybe it’s that I’m in my fifty-third year – I did not see any in this post, Mr. Gold Stone.
My paranoid parrot is pining for the fnords.
I don’t know how a daiquiri’s gym socks would taste, but there was that one time I used my teeth to de-panty a frozen margarita.
Took three whole tubes of Gleem to get that taste out of my mouth.
Oh my lord! They sell Gleem in tubes now? That’s way handier than those vine bound leaf pouch-bundles it used to come in.
I repackage personal items for my own protection. Those pouches weren’t tamper-proof.
And putting the Gleem into the tube is quite a taxing weekend, let me tell you.
Oh, how I’ve missed the dolphin! It’s good to know he’s still kicking around, though I really hope the skinny-jeans thing is just a passing phase.
Now tell me that wasn’t fun to write. “Mo’ Red Pills!”
Saying you don’t get it means you’ve gotten it.
Oh, I hope not.
Usually when one has got something one doesn’t get, a course of antibiotic injections follows.
If the former, what’s the physics behind that?
While I think it’s likely fake, you could-possibly-posit enough water vapor sucked up into a small twister and having it refract the sunlight so as to generate a slightly colored vortex. Of course, that’s ignoring all of the dust, dirt and other debris which is blocking light through the funnel, which is one of the reasons I think it’s fake.
Update: And here’s the definitive answer to your question: fake.
Ernst
Ididn’t either , but was too embarased to say anthing.
I like the rhythm of the words and the images they invoke. Sort of like Pynchon meets Magrite.
Does that make any sense?
I suspected fake, too. The color bands in the tornado resembled the arc way too closely.
These go waaaaay back. To the days of whimsy, and the grudging respect of my peers.
Wow. Nearly a decade, in fact…
I’ve never worried about the respect of my peers, only the respect of my betters. Makes it kinda tough when I never seem to find any. Jeff comes pretty close, though ;)
Heh.
Inconceivable!
And yes, that word means what I think it means…
Don’t worry, the effects will wear off over time. A little hair of the dog works wonders.
It was Mogen David wine wasn’t it? Vile stuff is right… Like the sweat wrung from a pair of tube socks is putting it nicely…
Yoga? NTTAWWT
Leave the Star Wars characters out of this, or Disney will sue.
[…]
Ohhhhhhh! Never mind.
Interesting tidbit of unimportant information I steamed out of Wiki whilst exploring this rare-steak pho (a dish I’ve not formally encountered, but seems much like what weekend hunters and campers everywhere might refer to as simmering ‘pot-of-death’) .. the Vietnamese enclave known as “Little Saigon” in San Francisco is easily distinguished from much-larger Chinatown by self-segregation.
How can this be allowed to happen? Self-segregation is anathema to ‘Merica’s Modern Political prescripts, and discouraged by Our Leftist Overlords who are self-considered as Our Betters.
Somebody needs tell Lady Pelosi what’s going down in her backyard.
War is peace.
Freedom is slavery.
Ignorance is strength.
Unity is Balkanization.
Orwell Updated By @Sdferr For The Age Of Leftist Hegemony
It was needed: War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength. Unity is Balkanization. But the face of Big Brother seemed to persist for several seconds on the screen, as though the impact that it had made on everyone’s eyeballs w…