Year: 2022

The Great Boxing Day Scandal (‘Oy, Rodney’)

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silly romance novels – Lee Duigon

Ah, the sunny clime of Scurveyshire! What a relief to get back to it.

In Chapter CDLX of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular, “the Queen of Suspense” (oh, forsooth, I’m getting tired of having to plug that in!), takes us to the village common of Scurveyshire for the annual Boxing Day Boxing Tournament for Boxers. Ever since the 13th century, every man, woman, and child in Scurveyshire is required to box, with the winner given the ability to see the future. It’s good old-fashioned bare-knuckle boxing, and no one is exempt. Matchups are all drawn out of a hat. Whose hat, we are not told.

Some of the matches are, of course, unfair: Hercules Machiste, the brawny village blacksmith, against 98-year-old Widow Westley, for instance. Helped out of her wheelchair by two of her great-grandchildren, the widow flabbergasts all Scurveyshire by landing what seems barely to qualify as a love-tap and knocking out the tower of muscle men know as Machiste.

With the odds against the widow listed as 20,000 to 1, Bob the Bookie is ruined. But who was it who actually bet five pounds sterling on the Widow Westley?

“Dear reader,” Ms. Crepuscular juxtaposes, “I have not forgotten the hydra lurking in the middle of the village, nor the fearful jackalope! But surely you can imagine the stink of fight-fixing arising from this seeming triumph of a little old lady against a veritable mountain of a man! Machiste once knocked out a statue!”

Instantaneously arises a demand to investigate the controversial bout. It falls to Lord Jeremy to carry out the investigation. Before he can do so, Machiste sits up and wonders, “What hit me?”

Jeremy turns to Constable Chumley. “Constable, arrest that man!” But Chumley demurs: “La, m’lord, ane vivvle yinter stock wi’ only borret yon beeve!” Jeremy does not know how to answer that objection.

Are They Really Paying Some Noozie $30 Million a Year?

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Jack In The Box Animation Free, HD Png Download - kindpng

I don’t feel well enough to post a picture of Rachel Maddox. Here’s the next best thing.

In one of the many lowlights in a year remarkable for having nothing but lowlights, MSNBC decided to pay Rachel Maddow $30 million a year to read cue cards and get weepy whenever a Democrat loses an election.

When this leaked out in August, MSNBC denied the reports but no one believed them (https://www.thewrap.com/maddow-deal-30-million-2024/). What kind of chump believes anything he hears from MSNBC? But this whole business is murky: I’m getting my information, for instance, from an outlet that describes Maddow as a “beloved fixture.” Sheesh. Is that like your favorite light bulb socket?

Apparently MSNBC panicked at the thought of losing Maddow, by far their least unsuccessful nooze anchor. Who would they have to replace her? (I nominate the fire extinguisher.)

Where do they even get $30 million?

I wonder what some of my light fixtures are worth.

‘Entering the Age of Fictional News’ (2014)

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Organ Grinder and His Monkey | The threepenny opera, The magicians, Art

Running very, very slowly this morning… but probably blessed to be running at all.

There was a dreadful plane crash in the winter of 2014 that brought to light what practitioners called “shaping the news.”

We would call it “lying.”

Entering the Age of Fictional News

They’ve labored on it ever since; and it is, like Scrooge’s, “a ponderous chain.”

I don’t think noozies appreciate how badly they’ve damaged their profession. They are now content, or rather, deliriously happy to play the monkey to the Democrat Party’s organ grinder. That sort of thing would embarrass anyone who was not a “journalist.”

Well, let’s see if some of them start to fall off their perch in 2022…

‘The Holly and the Ivy’

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Yes, we’re still sick. But I must be coming out of it, because I’m feeling very sappy this morning–like any little thing, as long as it’s to do with Christmas, will bring tears to my eyes.

We’ve had nothing but really foul weather since before Christmas–haven’t seen the sun in over a week.

*Sigh*

But enough of this. Here’s The Holly and the Ivy, an ancient Christmas carol here sung by Mediaeval Baebes.

A Tumbly Kitten

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Is this little kitten just having a grand old time, or is he genuinely flummoxed by the blanket? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. My cats have outgrown being tumbly–although Robbie will occasionally stage a zoomie to celebrate a particularly edifying visit to the litter box.

My New Year’s Eve (Oh, Boy)

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The Very Best Places to View Disneyland Fireworks

Anything that starts off this badly has just got to get better.

My sister the health care professional decreed that I must quarantine myself: stay in the bedroom all night, all the next day, and the next–but I couldn’t stand it. I had to come down today.

New Year’s Eve, alone in bed: that was a new experience for me. As tired and dragged-out as I was, I just couldn’t fall asleep. But I have to admit I enjoyed the full-scale artillery duel that broke out at midnight–and the ensuing babel of sirens all around the neighborhood. M-80s! Ka-boom! Cherry bombs! Ka-blam! And sirens. I guess Joe College and his friends weren’t the only ones experimenting with indoor fireworks.

I didn’t bother to get up and look out the window. Too many trees obscure the view of any fireworks display–and anyway, I’m sure most of these were free-lance boom-booms. It was kind of fun just listening.

The next night was exactly the same but with no fireworks, no fun. A third night was out of the question.

Because Patty and I were both sick, we have a lost New Year’s weekend to celebrate as soon as we feel up to it. Maybe when it stops raining…

Be Careful What You Vote For!

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What kind of gun did Granny have in The Beverly Hillbillies? - Quora

Grannie Clampet–always head of the curve!

[NOTE: I would have to be on my blinkin’ death-bed to let this one go by!]

It’s taken them seven years to figure out that their state has given them a a license to loot and pillage to their hearts’ content, but California’s criminals have found their way to Beverley Hills.

In 2014 the addled California voters approved a ballot initiative allowing bad guys to steal up to $950 worth of stuff without being charged with a felony. Don’t ask me why anyone in his right mind would ever vote “yes” for this.

So finally the new non-felons are coming after sweet pickin’s in Beverley Hills, and the rich folks who live there are shocked, shocked that such a thing could ever happen! Suddenly there’s a record number of applications for permits to carry guns. Suddenly those home security systems don’t seem so secure anymore. And defunding the police now seems like a suicidally bad idea.

Blue States–you asked for it! And now you’re getting it.

‘Better Days?’

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Long Beach Island, New Jersey

I’m suddenly reminded of a news clip I saw from Long Beach Island, some years ago. The the storm still raging, the mayor of Harvey Cedars stood amid the uprooted, overturned, cast-adrift beachfront homes and pledged, “Better days are coming soon!”

Well, he could hardly have been wrong, could he have?

But he was right about one thing at least: that particular storm would soon be over, and the mess it made would be cleaned up.

Should I go back to bed, or have some cereal?

‘Away in a Manger’ (American Melody)

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Away in a Manger will always be among my oldest Christmas memories. I was little more than a baby myself when I learned to sing it. And it was to this melody, the American melody–sung here by Alan Jackson–who better?

I’m not so sick that this hymn can’t move me to tears.

Yes, I’m Sick

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Sick man in bed with fever Royalty Free Vector Image

Well, this is a bang-up way to start a new year–sick in bed.

Patty’s sick, too, but she hasn’t got what I’ve got.

Once upon a time you called the doctor and he came over and took care of you. I remember that. I swear I didn’t make it up.

It probably won’t be possible to operate this blog today. I hate to lay it all on Byron (he had a big Pick-Up Stix match scheduled) and I think Violet Crepuscular is mad at me. If I suddenly feel better this afternoon, then you’ll see some blogging. My thanks, meanwhile, to the loyal readers who show up anyway. Please feel free to go to town with your comments. Get something started while I’m helpless to prevent it.