This Mashup of Chris Farley Starring in a Rob Ford Movie Is Perfect
Here’s Kate Upton, in a bikini, in the Antarctic, with penguins:
Here you will find a Kate video, in the Antarctic, and a clicky little slideshow: Remember that time Kate Upton almost melted the polar ice caps and we set it to music?
There, now, don’t you feel all better as you face this grim & gloomy & sleety day in Northeast Texas?
So it seems that the temperature, at which the Catahoula decides in it’s pea-brain that is sub-optimal to being a die-hard outside Catahoula, is in the mid-30s.
Prior to the mid-30s, Glynis outright refused to enter the cabin, to the point of running out in the field if it appeared she would be forced to enter. This morning, it took about 5 nanoseconds of coaxing before she knocked me over en route to the inside. Putting her outside after a couple of hours generated previously non-existent massive whining and shivering.
Yes, that’s a dead-filthy red shag carpet. It was leftovers, in the barn, and that most magical of words, free. It doesn’t surrender it’s deeply-trapped dirt easily. It generates enormous amounts of fuzz. In a word, gross. In another word, horrifying. One day, I may be moved to replace it.
Steve Sailer knocks it out of the park, and ruins every last bit of bushwa to which I could only aspire. Utter genius.
*In honor of our local Arctic Blast
Will has a way of pinpointing & speaking to many of my own spiritual failings. Or what I think are failings. Or something spiritual. I don’t know…I’m a dummy. But this seems like good advice. Read the whole thing.
I’ve often been told that prayer is talking with God, not talking to God, and so you can’t just talk: you have to listen, too. This is usually followed by the suggestion that I spend time just sitting and listening. I’ve tried that, but it never seems to work out that well for me, I think because it’s never been all that clear to me what I’m supposed to be listening for. God’s voice, sure. If I’m listening to God then I’m hoping to hear His Voice.
But what does God’s voice sound like? Certainly, some of the saints have heard Him speak audibly, just as some of them have seen Jesus or Mary in visions. But this is clearly the exception rather than the rule, and not the usual. Clearly I should be expecting something else.
Well, someone might say, it’s a still, small voice. Oh. All righty then. Except that I don’t know what that sounds like either.
So I sit there in my chair for the canonical five minutes—”Start with five minutes at a time, and work your way up.”—sit there trying to be silent, so that I’ll hear God if he speaks to me. And as I sit there, I start to free-associate, and ideas pop into my head as they always do, some appropriate to the occasion and some most definitely not, and I try to ignore them all and make them go away, and be quiet, because I’m listening to God. And at the end of five minutes, I’m feeling nicely quiet, maybe, but also ready to do something else, and I don’t feel like I’ve heard God at all.
via Listening to God.
Will is definitely worth following regularly, sez I. I have no idea how I linked up with him, but it was back the dinosaur age of blogs, and he does really excellent work on lay relationships with the church, the Church, with our fellow fallen, with the Trinity. For me, a dummy, anyway. I’m very grateful for a cat like that.
It’s inevitable, but even the local sports radio hacks, the stoner-cover-band + fart jokes crew, have gone all-JFK for the day. Precisely two of the multitudes of on-air “personalities” were alive at the time.
The treacly horseshit of the last two weeks has made me weary, and dropped my admiration level of the media even further down the scale of Toxic Waste. Which, who cares? I was three, and the cat doesn’t seem to have been any kind of Pillar of Presidentialness. He did make the sign of the beast with two backs with Marilyn Monroe, so there’s that.
On the other hand, I convinced a couple of lawyer friends to do some writing about the never-happened trial of Lee Harvey Oswald. They have both participated in various mock trials, sponsored by bar associations, over the last year. As I understand it, they prepared as they would have for any other trial. The one big major problem is the necessarily delimited time they would be allowed to present evidence and question witnesses. Still, you might appreciate the way they approached what would have certainly been an interesting trial, and no doubt have provided fodder for another 10MM conspiracy books. Enjoy.
Lastly, this was recorded and broadcast by WFAA here in Dallas, and is actually pretty interesting: Lee Harvey Oswald – The Trial
DISCLOSURE: both of these men might have bought me beer and/or cocktails over the last four decades, and could conceivably buy me more.
You’ll be shocked to learn that there’s another federal agency keeping it’s eye on you, you little scamp.
At a Senate Banking Committee hearing last week, Richard Cordray – the director of the Bureau of Consumer Financial Protection – was on the defensive with respect to the bureau’s collection of information about Americans’ spending habits. His unpersuasive defense of the CFPB’s data collection practices was not surprising in light of the agency’s flawed design.
It’s for your protection! It says it right there in our NAME! Why do you have to be so obtuse, citizen? What have you got to hide, comrade?
Ladies and gentlemen, we have our first blockbuster of the winter. On Wednesday evening, the Tigers and Rangers worked out a deal that sends Prince Fielder to the Rangers in exchange for Ian Kinsler, a move that not only fills persistent holes for both teams but also clears roster logjams by opening spots for their respective top prospects. The deal reportedly includes $30 million heading from Detroit to Texas to help offset the difference in the remaining salaries of the two stars, but the Rangers are still taking on considerably more risk.
Lots of salary/WAR/age/SABR talk here — the t-bone of the Hot Stove smorgasbord. I’m cautiously optimistic about big fat Prince. You can’t not love that lefty power playing 81 games in Rangers Ballpark. I wasn’t aware he got a D-I-V-O-R-C-E this year…maybe he’ll drop some of that weight for the Northeast Texas Women. I would, or I would at least try. But my paycheck doesn’t have six zeros before the decimal point, either, so I reckon his figger don’t matter much. Still, them knees of his gots to be sore, and he’s going to be 36 when this contract ends, or as I like to think about it, 1 year younger than a recently retired, much slimmer Lance Berkman.
Will the Old School Brother make/ask him to ditch the dreads? The Magic 8-Ball says “Unlikely” — it’s 2013 & The Age of The Precious Snowflake. It would probably be prosecutable as bullying.
Something (hunger, lack of oxygen, just womens in general which/who are never far from mind, especially the great pin-up girls of yesteryear (the ones with out tattoos, gauges, piercings, etc.)) made me think of this work from the great Lileks’ this morning
It is unfair to judge Art Frahm by these illustrations. He did many that were much, much worse. (And better, too.) But the falling-panty theme is a staple of his work. This was his signature touch. When I first put up the site a million years ago, I thought it was ridiculous – underwear with elastic bands just didn’t slip down. It’s like a series of paintings in which bras spontaneously combust.
The entire gallery is hilarious just for the pictures alone, but Lileks’ commentary makes it genius.
The Tigers and Rangers have agreed to a blockbuster deal that would send first baseman Prince Fielder to Texas and second baseman Ian Kinsler to Detroit, according to Jon Heyman of CBSSports.com. It was uncertain if other players would be involved.
The deal would make some sense for both clubs. The Rangers have depth in their middle infield, with top prospect Jurickson Profar ready to join shortstop Elvis Andrus. Trading Fielder would allow the Tigers to move Miguel Cabrera to first base and replace free agent Omar Infante at second.
Both players are signed to long-term contracts already. Kinsler will make $57 million over the next four years, with a $12 million team option or $5 million buyout in 2018. Fielder is set to make $24 million for each of the next seven seasons.
That seems so…impossible. And weird. Big fat Prince in a Ranger uniform. Ring up the awning company. Order up hard hats for all LF seats.
Prince Fielder as last seen in this space — click for extra fun:
The latest video from an upcoming full album release:
A dumb song, but classic Horton Heat, with plenty of standard rockabilly horndog bodaciousness, which makes for a great video!
Here, the Rev discusses his Gretsch:
An old Reverend Horton Heat song about eating, with gratuitous fanboi slideshow action:
I bet you $100 they would do less harm to our nation than these sober-sided a-holes we have to deal with today. That’s beside the point. I’ve had this Rob Ford compendium in a background window that I forgot about, and it is absolutely hilarious.
Mayor Rob Ford snorted cocaine, swilled vodka, popped a dose of OxyContin and partied with an apparent prostitute during an all-night binge last year that raved from his office to a private room in a Toronto bar and back, according to allegations made by Ford staffers and bar employees to police investigating the mayor.
Several of Ford’s top aides told detectives they were concerned about the mayor’s intoxicated, addled and even violent behaviour the night of St. Patrick’s Day 2012.
Before the tumultuous night was over, they told police, Ford would call a cab driver a “Paki,” deride several top aides as “Liberal bitches,” burst into tears about his deceased father and tell a female staffer that “I banged your pussy.”
Ford was “totally out of it” when staff member Isaac Ransom arrived at the mayor’s office around 9 p.m. The mayor had drunk half of a 40-ounce bottle of vodka and was hanging out with a woman who “may have been an escort or prostitute,” Ransom told police.
“There have been rumours that Mayor Ford has used escorts or prostitutes. (The woman) has also been seen with Mayor Ford at a stag party,” said the police document summarizing the Ransom interview.
Ford talked of getting hammered and “going out then getting laid.”
His night was just beginning.
The mayor dismissed the stories as an “outright lie” and said, “It is the Toronto Star going after me, again and again and again — they’re relentless.”
“He wanted to party,” a former Ford staffer told the Star.
Navarro told police he heard two “sniffs” from both of them.
He saw Ford make a “dash” and “charge” the dance floor.
At one point, Mayor Ford broke down and cried about his father,” the police document said.
“Ford started on a Liberal tangent and pushed (Earl) Provost into a wall,” the police document said. “The staff tried to pull the mayor off and then he charged at Barnett.”
At one point in the night, Towhey told police, a staffer saw Ford pop what looked like an OxyContin pill.
As he was walked out around 4 a.m., Ford “told a female guard at City Hall that he ‘was going to eat her box,’” Ransom told investigators.
When they arrived at the mayor’s home, Ford “jumped out of the taxi, jumped into his own car, reversed it very quickly almost hitting the taxi and Provost and left the area.”
Quoting that much from the story is probably illegal, but good grief, this Rob Ford fellow is a full-throttle laugh-a-minute. And that’s just one measly St Patrick’s Day!!! I demand that ALL MAYORS start acting this way.
Here’s his latest contretemps…bull-rushing some lady during a city council meeting where they are trying to take away his powers. It doesn’t look like he’s going after her in particular — she just happened to be in his enormous way.
What a crazy motherscratcher. Thank you, Canada, for restoring my faith in the unlimited potential of politics.
The problem is not just that we pay for those to think up these regulations, or that these regulations hamper commerce; but also that we despair at the myriad of useless forms and busy work of the otherwise idle bureaucracy. Psychologically, we reach a state where inaction is preferable to audacity: we join the body snatchers.
You should read the whole thing. It’s more howling into the whirlwind. It makes me despair of finding levers, where to wedge them, or where to even stand to begin the disassembly.