The World Cup is not far away now. Vol Abroad readers get ready for some World Cup blogging. I love the World Cup - and I don't hide my allegiance. I support England. Yes, I know it's traitorous. But sport is about emotion - and while I want the US team to do well, it doesn't break my heart if they lose. I don't shed any tears when they lose in the knock-out stages and I'm pleased, happy even, but not jubilant when they win. So in the balance, England v. USA - I'd have to plump for England.
_______
There's been a proliferation of England flags, England hats, England shirts. Just yesterday I bought some England car window flags - which I'll be installing when I next use my car. (I'll probably have the only car in London with a pair of England flags and the Volunteers' Power T in the back window.)
I'm excited, but frankly I'm trying to contain my excitement. I watched the friendly between England and Hungary a couple of nights ago - and England's performance, particularly in the first half was lacklustre, lazy and just frankly boring. The Vol-in-Law made me switch over to watch Celebrity X Factor - so we missed all three England goals which eventually gave them the win. (Though we did catch an amazing goal from Hungary)
England football provides great hope, but great disappointment. I hate to say it, but the England team will always break your heart in the end.
_________
Even if England doesn't rack up a string of victories this World Cup, at least there are a string of England World Cup songs. Apparently the official song is so lame, that the free market of pop song ideas has generated a slew of competitors. You can check out some of them here.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Kitti insurgency in its last throws
I couldn't let another day pass without comment on the latest fish killings in our garden pond.
The deaths of Caspar Weinberger and Blaze have been recorded on this blog previously. But this weekend, we had not one, but two deaths. Darrell and Darrell are gone*. Most likely killed on Saturday. It must have been like shooting fish in a barrel.
Fishy native rejoicing in the sweet water of freedom before recent disappearance
I worry it's my own cats doing the slaying. But the Vol-in-Law says that our cats are the loyal Kitti Garden Guard, there to protect the integrity of our pond and its piscine inhabitants. It is the foreign cats who are the back bone of the insurgency.
The increase in fish casualty rates of late is a sign that the Kitti insurgency is in its last throws.
Our remaining fish - Larry, Darrell and Smokey - are resilient. They are still grateful for our intervention. But our own Kitti militia has yet to stand up to the menace of foreign Kitti fighters.
We have not yet found the bodies of Darrell and Darrell. It remains a possibility that they may have been kidnapped by a feline group known or unknown in the region. I just hope we don't have to witness their deboning on Al Cat-eera
As they stand up, we'll stand down.
The deaths of Caspar Weinberger and Blaze have been recorded on this blog previously. But this weekend, we had not one, but two deaths. Darrell and Darrell are gone*. Most likely killed on Saturday. It must have been like shooting fish in a barrel.
Fishy native rejoicing in the sweet water of freedom before recent disappearance
I worry it's my own cats doing the slaying. But the Vol-in-Law says that our cats are the loyal Kitti Garden Guard, there to protect the integrity of our pond and its piscine inhabitants. It is the foreign cats who are the back bone of the insurgency.
The increase in fish casualty rates of late is a sign that the Kitti insurgency is in its last throws.
Our remaining fish - Larry, Darrell and Smokey - are resilient. They are still grateful for our intervention. But our own Kitti militia has yet to stand up to the menace of foreign Kitti fighters.
We have not yet found the bodies of Darrell and Darrell. It remains a possibility that they may have been kidnapped by a feline group known or unknown in the region. I just hope we don't have to witness their deboning on Al Cat-eera
As they stand up, we'll stand down.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Granddad blogging: Hog money
Last week my grandfather described how they did a little hunting to raise a little extra money. This weeks he describes how they made their main income.
The only crop that we really had when I was little growing up was corn. We raised the corn and we took the hogs and turned the hogs in the corn and let them knock it down and eat the corn off the ground and get fat. Those that got big enough we’d have a truck come, I don’t know, I guess when the corn and stuff ran out, put ‘em on this truck and take ‘em to Nashville. The ones that weren’t big enough we’d run them over til next year. There was a joke told about a man who had a bunch of hogs and he said he had enough hogs to sell that fall and to kill and have enough meat to last him a year and said he had enough shoats coming on to take care of next year and he had enough pigs coming on to take care of next year and said after that he didn’t know what he was gonna do.
We’d take this hog check that we’d get once a year. My daddy had recently bought a little 70 acre farm and finally got it paid for and daddy bought about 50 acres in another place and he paid everything that he made on that place every year. The Depression was coming on then, and all of his year’s work would go to pay on the farm and the farm was worth about what was owed on it. And another year the same deal, it was going down, down, down. The hog price was going down, down, down.
We owed one of daddy’s cousins, I forget whether his name was Sy Jenkins or Sy Young. We’d go pay him once a year, and we’d pay him $700 and that was all the money we could get together. We milked cows and raised chickens to make enough to buy the groceries that we had to have. And all this hog money went to him. He wouldn’t take anything but cash, he wouldn’t take a check, though he and daddy were kin people and my daddy had as good a reputation as anybody did. But he had to go to Lebanon and get those hog checks converted into cash and then had to drive or ride up to see the old man and pay him that $700.
He had a great big old house and he had a dog in the house, and great big old bull dogs, and the doors chained. He had money, but he was ornery. I never did know why he was ornery and so hard until many years later. I knew he didn’t have any children, but I found out later that they had four children and they all died before they were ten days old. I often wondered if that hadn’t contributed to him being so hard and mean. I don’t know whether it did or didn’t.
Go to the granddad blogging main page for more including WWII oral history
Read the previous post
Read the next post
T-tags: oral history, Tennessee, Wilson+County, hogs, loans
The only crop that we really had when I was little growing up was corn. We raised the corn and we took the hogs and turned the hogs in the corn and let them knock it down and eat the corn off the ground and get fat. Those that got big enough we’d have a truck come, I don’t know, I guess when the corn and stuff ran out, put ‘em on this truck and take ‘em to Nashville. The ones that weren’t big enough we’d run them over til next year. There was a joke told about a man who had a bunch of hogs and he said he had enough hogs to sell that fall and to kill and have enough meat to last him a year and said he had enough shoats coming on to take care of next year and he had enough pigs coming on to take care of next year and said after that he didn’t know what he was gonna do.
We’d take this hog check that we’d get once a year. My daddy had recently bought a little 70 acre farm and finally got it paid for and daddy bought about 50 acres in another place and he paid everything that he made on that place every year. The Depression was coming on then, and all of his year’s work would go to pay on the farm and the farm was worth about what was owed on it. And another year the same deal, it was going down, down, down. The hog price was going down, down, down.
We owed one of daddy’s cousins, I forget whether his name was Sy Jenkins or Sy Young. We’d go pay him once a year, and we’d pay him $700 and that was all the money we could get together. We milked cows and raised chickens to make enough to buy the groceries that we had to have. And all this hog money went to him. He wouldn’t take anything but cash, he wouldn’t take a check, though he and daddy were kin people and my daddy had as good a reputation as anybody did. But he had to go to Lebanon and get those hog checks converted into cash and then had to drive or ride up to see the old man and pay him that $700.
He had a great big old house and he had a dog in the house, and great big old bull dogs, and the doors chained. He had money, but he was ornery. I never did know why he was ornery and so hard until many years later. I knew he didn’t have any children, but I found out later that they had four children and they all died before they were ten days old. I often wondered if that hadn’t contributed to him being so hard and mean. I don’t know whether it did or didn’t.
Go to the granddad blogging main page for more including WWII oral history
Read the previous post
Read the next post
T-tags: oral history, Tennessee, Wilson+County, hogs, loans
Monday, May 29, 2006
Things I might have done today...
I'm not making the most of this 3 day weekend. But you see I have a good excuse. My car is not working. The battery seems to be dead for no discernable reason. That's worrying, because if I had left the lights on or kept the radio running or something like that, then I could just curse my own stupidity, charge up the battery and move on.
We are charging up the battery, but it takes hours. So it's the perfect excuse to just hang around the house and do nada.
Things I might have done today
1. I could have turned in my knives at the local police station as there is a nationwide knife amnesty. But I only have kitchen knives, and anyway they'd have to pry my knife out of my cold, dead hand if I were in the habit of carrying.
2. Potted up my remaining plants...I'm out of potting soil.
3. Driven down to Crystal Palace to see the really big dinosaurs. It's been on our list of "fun things to do" for a while.
4. Gone to the grocery store for some much needed reprovisioning.
Things I could do without the car, but am not:
1. Cleaning and tidying
2. Laundry
Things I have done:
1. Messed with the cat til she bit me
2. Added some new links to my blog
3. Watched daytime tv.
We are charging up the battery, but it takes hours. So it's the perfect excuse to just hang around the house and do nada.
Things I might have done today
1. I could have turned in my knives at the local police station as there is a nationwide knife amnesty. But I only have kitchen knives, and anyway they'd have to pry my knife out of my cold, dead hand if I were in the habit of carrying.
2. Potted up my remaining plants...I'm out of potting soil.
3. Driven down to Crystal Palace to see the really big dinosaurs. It's been on our list of "fun things to do" for a while.
4. Gone to the grocery store for some much needed reprovisioning.
Things I could do without the car, but am not:
1. Cleaning and tidying
2. Laundry
Things I have done:
1. Messed with the cat til she bit me
2. Added some new links to my blog
3. Watched daytime tv.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Human trafficking
I just watched the first of a four parter called Human Trafficking. Now I feel dirty. Billed as non-exploitative, I felt it was all quite cheap and prurient.
It's a 4 part series covering the victims of sex trafficking and one agent's courageous mission to rescue them and bring their captors to justice. Maybe. I'll not find out as I certainly won't be watching it again.
Maybe this is not the kind of subject that can really be done on tv adequately sensitively.
_______
The Salvation Army does some really good work with victims of sex trafficking.
It's a 4 part series covering the victims of sex trafficking and one agent's courageous mission to rescue them and bring their captors to justice. Maybe. I'll not find out as I certainly won't be watching it again.
Maybe this is not the kind of subject that can really be done on tv adequately sensitively.
_______
The Salvation Army does some really good work with victims of sex trafficking.
A sunny day...sorta
Not much doin today - did a little gardening - it was the first day without a ton of rain in a while... It was partly cloudy...with intermittent sun.
But more rain expected tomorrow.
But more rain expected tomorrow.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
my birthday gift
Today we went to the Wallace Collection museum and took a course on printmaking based on their arms and armor collection. This was my birthday present, as I could never get the Vol-in-Law to organise such a trip otherwise.
I spent too much time drawing one item...instead of getting a bunch of other ideas, but it was still good to mess around with the ink and use someone else's art supplies.
It was a good day to do it, as it has been raining steadily since the morning.
On the way back, the Undergound seized up (as often seems to happen in wet weather) and we spent nearly an hour in packed bus full of damp Londoners.
Here's what we made:
Me
The vol-in-law
I spent too much time drawing one item...instead of getting a bunch of other ideas, but it was still good to mess around with the ink and use someone else's art supplies.
It was a good day to do it, as it has been raining steadily since the morning.
On the way back, the Undergound seized up (as often seems to happen in wet weather) and we spent nearly an hour in packed bus full of damp Londoners.
Here's what we made:
Me
The vol-in-law
Friday, May 26, 2006
One lucky voter...
As if voting wasn't enough of a lottery... Via Newscoma
I don't need to think about this. I had this idea years ago. But it wouldn't require any kind of taxpayer money. No. When you go to vote, you can buy a special lottery poll ticket. A portion of the money would go to say... education in civics or for voter registration drives or get-out-the-vote campaigns or to translate all those ballots into Spanish or something - and the rest of the money would go to one lucky voter...
Just call me the public policy genius.
This is utterly amazing to me.
(AP) An Arizona political activist is placing his bets that a proposal
to pay one lucky voter $1 million will drive people to the polls.Dr. Mark
Osterloh, an ophthalmologist who has run unsuccessfully for governor and the
Legislature, filed paperwork Monday to put the idea before state voters on the
2006 ballot."Who do you know that doesn't want to be a millionaire? What's the
worst thing that could happen? Everybody who's eligible to vote could be
voting," he said.I need to think about this. I just see this not working ethically right out of the hatch or at least that's my gut reaction to this news.
I don't need to think about this. I had this idea years ago. But it wouldn't require any kind of taxpayer money. No. When you go to vote, you can buy a special lottery poll ticket. A portion of the money would go to say... education in civics or for voter registration drives or get-out-the-vote campaigns or to translate all those ballots into Spanish or something - and the rest of the money would go to one lucky voter...
Just call me the public policy genius.
Just a little gift of sunshine
After what seems like weeks of rain (it's actually about a week and half) we finally had a warm and sunny afternoon.
Other Cat enjoyed the brief sunshine in the garden - while I worked at home yesterday PM, taking my laptop out into the garden.
But now it's raining again.
Tomorrow's my birthday, and I would enjoy nothing more than a gift of sunshine this Bank Holiday weekend. But this being Britain and this being a Bank Holiday weekend then it will almost certainly rain.
Other Cat enjoyed the brief sunshine in the garden - while I worked at home yesterday PM, taking my laptop out into the garden.
But now it's raining again.
Tomorrow's my birthday, and I would enjoy nothing more than a gift of sunshine this Bank Holiday weekend. But this being Britain and this being a Bank Holiday weekend then it will almost certainly rain.
Illegal immigrants and porn
Fellow American expat London blogger Anglofille has a great post about the "tart cards" that fill London phone booths. She says:
To be honest I had forgotten about these, since I've had a mobile phone since 2000 - and so haven't been in a phone booth in ages. But as I remember, if you walk into a central London phone booth you'll be assualted by graphic business cards offering a variety of services. It's not legal to post the cards - and some councils have had crackdowns intermittently. But I guess, since most people have mobile phones now, the booths' main purpose is to serve the prostitution industry with a place for sex workers to sell the wares.
Prostitution is legal for a sole trader in a "residential" premise, but solicitation and advertising is not. Of course, many of these cards offer "massage*".
Who risks the fines and jail time and puts these cards up? Well, I happen to know someone who used to be in that trade. He is an Oak Ridge native and a graduate (I think he graduated) of the University of Tennessee. I've known him since he was six years old. He came over here about 10 years ago, overstayed his tourist visa - and the only employment he could get was as a "tart-card" poster and DJ'ing once a week at the Blue Note. Who says illegals aren't entrepreneurial? Illegals will do the jobs that native Britons just won't do.
The Vol-tart-card-poster is getting married this summer to a rich girl from Indianapolis. Congratulations Mr VTCP, enjoy the day! Perhaps I should send a pack of tart cards for old time's sake**.
_____
*When the Vol-in-Law's back problems were at his most severe, he had a fantastic massage in Finland - from a one-eyed man with shamanistic skills. He walked straight and without pain for the first time in over a year. Didn't last - (the shaman said it wouldn't) - and so the ViL decided to search for massage in London. A search through the yellow pages didn't offer much luck...after several misplaced phone calls to ladies of the night (his story) - he gave up. Now, he says real masseurs have wisened up and list their services under "therapeutic massage".
**Don't worry, VolMom, I won't actually send them. Please don't tell Mr VTCP's mom that he used to do this. I don't think she would approve.
The majority of these tart cards feature extremely graphic and vulgar images of women. In 2001 they were banned and anyone caught distributing them can be put in prison for up to 6 months or fined £5000, but it’s obviously not enforced. Nearly 40,000 of these cards are distributed throughout the city each day and you see them everywhere.(BTW - she has photos over at her site)
To be honest I had forgotten about these, since I've had a mobile phone since 2000 - and so haven't been in a phone booth in ages. But as I remember, if you walk into a central London phone booth you'll be assualted by graphic business cards offering a variety of services. It's not legal to post the cards - and some councils have had crackdowns intermittently. But I guess, since most people have mobile phones now, the booths' main purpose is to serve the prostitution industry with a place for sex workers to sell the wares.
Prostitution is legal for a sole trader in a "residential" premise, but solicitation and advertising is not. Of course, many of these cards offer "massage*".
Who risks the fines and jail time and puts these cards up? Well, I happen to know someone who used to be in that trade. He is an Oak Ridge native and a graduate (I think he graduated) of the University of Tennessee. I've known him since he was six years old. He came over here about 10 years ago, overstayed his tourist visa - and the only employment he could get was as a "tart-card" poster and DJ'ing once a week at the Blue Note. Who says illegals aren't entrepreneurial? Illegals will do the jobs that native Britons just won't do.
The Vol-tart-card-poster is getting married this summer to a rich girl from Indianapolis. Congratulations Mr VTCP, enjoy the day! Perhaps I should send a pack of tart cards for old time's sake**.
_____
*When the Vol-in-Law's back problems were at his most severe, he had a fantastic massage in Finland - from a one-eyed man with shamanistic skills. He walked straight and without pain for the first time in over a year. Didn't last - (the shaman said it wouldn't) - and so the ViL decided to search for massage in London. A search through the yellow pages didn't offer much luck...after several misplaced phone calls to ladies of the night (his story) - he gave up. Now, he says real masseurs have wisened up and list their services under "therapeutic massage".
**Don't worry, VolMom, I won't actually send them. Please don't tell Mr VTCP's mom that he used to do this. I don't think she would approve.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Mmm BBQ
Boy, one of the things I miss about Tennessee is the BBQ. I like me some BBQ. I've introduced the Vol-in-Law to BBQ, too - and I think he loves it more than I do.
So I told the Vol-in-Law that blogger Nashville Knucklehead was opening a BBQ joint.
So I told the Vol-in-Law that blogger Nashville Knucklehead was opening a BBQ joint.
ViL: But, it's in Nashville, right?Anyway, I'm excited. Good luck to you, Knucklehead! Happy prospects to Mothership BBQ:
Me: Yeah
ViL: That's not much help.
Me: Well, no, but he wrote so impressively about the BBQ, I think it's got to be good. Otherssaid it was good. We can go the next time we're there.
ViL: Do you think it will be better than the BBQ at the petrol station in Lawrenceburg? (I think he means Leoma)
Me: I don't know.
ViL: Well, that was good BBQ. And the last time we had BBQ in Nashville it wasn't that good.
Mothership BBQ is at 2806 Columbine Place. That's in Berry Hill, about a block behind Sam and Zoe's.
Make a wish
The Make-a-Wish foundation grants wishes to kids with life threatening illnesses. I think we've all heard the heartwarming stories of meeting celebrities the trip to Disneyworld, etc.
But little Harrison Richard, who is recovering from a kidney tumor, used his wish to perform a public service to all Londoners.
Yes, little Harrison operated the giant crusher that struck the first blow against that municipal mistake, the
Greater London Council Island block - once an office building for council workers.
Now it's a little boy's dream come true. What a wish!
Harrison said: "I don't mind which is the next building I knock down as long as it is old and ugly like this one,"
It will take another 16 weeks to take down this montrosity. In the meantime, Harrison has the demolition outfit with hardhat and boots and was given a toy model of the crusher he used to strike a blow against urban ugliness.
Photo thanks to Derelict London.
But little Harrison Richard, who is recovering from a kidney tumor, used his wish to perform a public service to all Londoners.
Yes, little Harrison operated the giant crusher that struck the first blow against that municipal mistake, the
Greater London Council Island block - once an office building for council workers.Now it's a little boy's dream come true. What a wish!
Harrison said: "I don't mind which is the next building I knock down as long as it is old and ugly like this one,"
It will take another 16 weeks to take down this montrosity. In the meantime, Harrison has the demolition outfit with hardhat and boots and was given a toy model of the crusher he used to strike a blow against urban ugliness.
Photo thanks to Derelict London.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
The privileges of adulthood
VolMom is a gardener par excellence. She regularly wins awards in Lawrenceburg. People go and have their bridal photos in her yard.
She regularly involved me and VolBro in the gardening. But mostly in the weeding and mulching not in the decision-making. Whenever some fanciful plant caught my eye in the gardening catalogs, she'd always have some reason to dismiss it. If the flower was some other-worldly blue, she'd point out that a filter had been used. If it had a spectacular giant bloom, she'd point out that it was trick of perspective.
I always wanted to plant allium, the large ornamental onion, and VolMom always said no. In seed catalogs, it was usually pictured in full bloom with a small, blonde child standing next to it, and the kid always a little shorter the top of the seed head. They look like big starry lollipops.
With adulthood comes responsibility, working and paying bills and stuff. But with it also comes the power of decision-making. Ice cream sandwich and a beer for breakfast? Why not. Stay up late, watch a movie full of swearing and bare breasts. I can if I feel like it. Alliums in the garden. Absolutely.
This is a little "arty-shot" of my Globemaster allium.
VolMom wouldn't let me have garden statuary either. And do I have some now? Is my garden a sculpture park - an outdoor museum of gnomes and lantern boys and concrete deer? No. Sadly the Vol-in-Law has put his foot down. But I am allowed to hang pictures in the garden.
Found and purchased art
Traditional folk-art fence decoration
Part of a slate and mirror mosaic, which in its making resulted in a trip to the emergency room with glass in my eye
UPDATE: The Today Programme - the morning news radio for the intelligentsia and policy makers of Britain did a little feature on sneaking a garden gnome into the Chelsea Flower Show - the creme of garden shows in England.
She regularly involved me and VolBro in the gardening. But mostly in the weeding and mulching not in the decision-making. Whenever some fanciful plant caught my eye in the gardening catalogs, she'd always have some reason to dismiss it. If the flower was some other-worldly blue, she'd point out that a filter had been used. If it had a spectacular giant bloom, she'd point out that it was trick of perspective.
I always wanted to plant allium, the large ornamental onion, and VolMom always said no. In seed catalogs, it was usually pictured in full bloom with a small, blonde child standing next to it, and the kid always a little shorter the top of the seed head. They look like big starry lollipops.
With adulthood comes responsibility, working and paying bills and stuff. But with it also comes the power of decision-making. Ice cream sandwich and a beer for breakfast? Why not. Stay up late, watch a movie full of swearing and bare breasts. I can if I feel like it. Alliums in the garden. Absolutely.
This is a little "arty-shot" of my Globemaster allium.
VolMom wouldn't let me have garden statuary either. And do I have some now? Is my garden a sculpture park - an outdoor museum of gnomes and lantern boys and concrete deer? No. Sadly the Vol-in-Law has put his foot down. But I am allowed to hang pictures in the garden.
Found and purchased art
Traditional folk-art fence decoration
Part of a slate and mirror mosaic, which in its making resulted in a trip to the emergency room with glass in my eye
UPDATE: The Today Programme - the morning news radio for the intelligentsia and policy makers of Britain did a little feature on sneaking a garden gnome into the Chelsea Flower Show - the creme of garden shows in England.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Young's Brewery to close
I heard on the news today that Young's Brewery, just up the road in Wandsworth Town, is shutting down its local operations after 425 of brewing on the Wandle. Young's will move its operations to Bedfordshire.
That's a shame. I'm glad we took the tour last summer.
Ninety people will lose their jobs. The dray horses, still used to deliver beer locally, will be retired. I wonder if that retired as in lovely pasture in Surrey or retired as in glue?
And what will happen to the other critters that live on site, like the brewery cats. Perhaps the Vol-in-Law will let me take one in.
That's a shame. I'm glad we took the tour last summer.
Ninety people will lose their jobs. The dray horses, still used to deliver beer locally, will be retired. I wonder if that retired as in lovely pasture in Surrey or retired as in glue?
And what will happen to the other critters that live on site, like the brewery cats. Perhaps the Vol-in-Law will let me take one in.
Vee haff vays of making you laff
It's a commonly held notion, especially in the UK, that Germans have no sense of humor. I can attest that they do, but it is very different. It's a direct sense of humor, stark and pitiless, but Germans have often made me crack up to rib-aching, eye-watering, hysteria. On one occasion, my friend Vol A and I were in Mexico and had met up with a couple of German fellows. They crossed the roads of Veracruz without much regard for the Mexican traffic. When we rebuked them for their lack of caution, they said "You must be careful, but in Germany we have nationally funded health insurance." (Maybe you had to be there.)
Stewart Lee is one of my favorite British comedians. He's incredibly irreverant and one of the geniuses behind the downright blasphemous Jerry Springer, the Opera. (It puts The Da Vinci Code into the heretical shade). He's written an article about the cultural chasm between British (or anglophone) humor and its Germanic cousin.
The good folks at The Guardian, where the article appears, have kindly gathered up some German jokes for your reading pleasure. Here's a sample:
Stewart Lee is one of my favorite British comedians. He's incredibly irreverant and one of the geniuses behind the downright blasphemous Jerry Springer, the Opera. (It puts The Da Vinci Code into the heretical shade). He's written an article about the cultural chasm between British (or anglophone) humor and its Germanic cousin.
The good folks at The Guardian, where the article appears, have kindly gathered up some German jokes for your reading pleasure. Here's a sample:
Tabea Rudolph, 26, Stuttgart
There are problems in the woods. The animals of the forest are always drunk, so the fox decides to ban alcohol.
The following day, the fox spies a rabbit hanging out of a tree, clearly wasted. The fox ticks him off, and carries on his way. But the next day he sees the rabbit drunk again, and gives him a final warning.
The next day, the fox does his rounds and there's no sign of the rabbit, but he notices a straw sticking out of a stream. Wondering what it is, the fox scoops it out, only to find a very drunk rabbit on the other end of it. "How many times do I have to tell you that animals of the forest aren't allowed alcohol?" says the Fox.
"We fishes don't give a toss what the animals of the forest aren't allowed to do," says the rabbit
Vee haff vays of making you laff
It's a commonly held notion, especially in the UK, that Germans have no sense of humor. I can attest that they do, but it is very different. It's a direct sense of humor, stark and pitiless, but Germans have often made me crack up to rib-aching, eye-watering, hysteria. On one occasion, my friend Vol A and I were in Mexico and had met up with a couple of German fellows. They crossed the roads of Veracruz without much regard for the Mexican traffic. When we rebuked them for their lack of caution, they said "You must be careful, but in Germany we have nationally funded health insurance." (Maybe you had to be there.)
Stewart Lee is one of my favorite British comedians. He's incredibly irreverant and one of the geniuses behind the downright blasphemous Jerry Springer, the Opera. (It puts The Da Vinci Code into the heretical shade). He's written an article about the cultural chasm between British (or anglophone) humor and its Germanic cousin.
The good folks at The Guardian, where the article appears, have kindly gathered up some German jokes for your reading pleasure. Here's a sample:
Stewart Lee is one of my favorite British comedians. He's incredibly irreverant and one of the geniuses behind the downright blasphemous Jerry Springer, the Opera. (It puts The Da Vinci Code into the heretical shade). He's written an article about the cultural chasm between British (or anglophone) humor and its Germanic cousin.
The good folks at The Guardian, where the article appears, have kindly gathered up some German jokes for your reading pleasure. Here's a sample:
Tabea Rudolph, 26, Stuttgart
There are problems in the woods. The animals of the forest are always drunk, so the fox decides to ban alcohol.
The following day, the fox spies a rabbit hanging out of a tree, clearly wasted. The fox ticks him off, and carries on his way. But the next day he sees the rabbit drunk again, and gives him a final warning.
The next day, the fox does his rounds and there's no sign of the rabbit, but he notices a straw sticking out of a stream. Wondering what it is, the fox scoops it out, only to find a very drunk rabbit on the other end of it. "How many times do I have to tell you that animals of the forest aren't allowed alcohol?" says the Fox.
"We fishes don't give a toss what the animals of the forest aren't allowed to do," says the rabbit
Monday, May 22, 2006
The Commons
So tonight I was drinking at the Houses of Parliament, an annual drinks for the Wandsworth Conservatives. I can't say it was the best time I've had with them, but it was fun. The main disappointment was that we were at the terrace bar, but the weather was dreadful, windy and rainy. Thus we couldn't enjoy what must normally be one of the best views in London.
Highlights of the evening include smoking on the terrace - which is against the law at the very place where they make the laws. Sure I only got three quarters of the way thru the cigarette before I got told off by the wait staff. But it was the ultimate in petty rebellion.
I also passed the current Health Secretary Patricia Hewitt in the hallway. But I'm dreadful at spotting celebrities of any sort, it was the Vol-in-Law who recognised her. For my American readers, this might be a little like spotting Michael (?) Chertoff. They are both doing a heckuva job, according to their equally odious leaders.
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Drought order
Regular readers may be aware of my ire at the hosepipe ban - keen gardeners such as myself are unable to use hosepipes or sprinklers to water our lawns or gardens.
Now some water companies are getting even tougher - disallowing the use of water for certain commercial activities - such as watering golf courses, and using piped mains water for car washes, and window cleaning. The Environment Agency (which advises and regulates on such matters) put pressure on my water company to request a drought order. Thames Water refused. Indeed, the right call since reservoirs are at over 90 per cent capacity.
But ever since the drought order has been in place, it's been raining. Raining, with brief moments of hazy sunlight, then drizzle, then rain. My water butt is full and overflowing. My flower pots are saturated. And I'm missing warmth and sunshine so much I think I'm coming on with Spring onset Seasonal Affective Disorder or SO-SAD.
Last one on the ark, rescind the drought order.
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