Sporting Dream Could be a Nightmare

For much of my life I have harboured a hope that the three English football teams most important to my family- Norwich City, Leyton Orient, and Brentford- would play in the same division. I just didn't want it to be the old 3rd division. Bah.

Come on Norwich, pull out another improbable victory over relegation from the jaws of the defeat. The only other way to avoid this meeting of the teams is for Orient to get relegated themselves, and that's hardly the positive outcome one would hope for.

Everything is Belgian.

I have long harboured a fondness for the odd little lowland country of Belgium. Half Dutch, half-French, and all weird.

Now news comes that the quintisentially English game, cricket, may have been invented by les Belges.

Such an unassuming place: invents everything but never worries about taking any credit. Cricket, the french fry, the FN self loading rifle, brussels sprouts- "fabrique Belgique" indeed.

Hooray for you, Belgium.

Aggggggggggggggggggggggggggggh. Busy. Aggggggggggggggggggggggggh.

In the interim, our family blog is growing ever cuter....

The False Dawn of Spring

Its above freezing outside, the sun is shining and the wind has stood down, and I can hear Terry Francona talking above the smacking of baseballs on the TV behind me. I must not be taken in. There are potentially 10 more weeks in the snow window; 6 to 8 in the arctic blast frame.

Stay the course, stay the course.

Phelps Confirms My Predjudices

Michael Phelps photographed getting his Jamaica on? Further proof to me at least that out of the pool all competitive swimmers are boring.

Phelps and his aqualung bong

Pop Quiz

To what unintended embarrasment is the folksy Ms. King referring, below?

"I just figured it was another commercial until I looked up," viewer Cora King told the Arizona Daily Star. "Then he did his little dance with everything hanging out."

The answer: The inadvertent transmission of porn to some cable subscribers in Arizona during the Superbowl last week.

I ain't dead...

Far from it, I promise. I'm just recalibrating as I adjust to the demands of my new job. More nights and weekends, at least at first, but normal service will be resumed soonish....

I'm so busy these days I keep up with world events by absorbing newsprint directly through my eyeballs

Employees Must Wash Hands

Salmonella outbreak traced to Georgia peanut processing plant: process engineer Poop Fingers Magee placed on administrative leave, egg tartare taken off lunch room menu, management condemned for enhancing share holder value by replacing fresh peanuts with old ones from jar on Grandma's coffee table.

Film at 11.

Obama lama ding dong.

Its not every day one sees Bono upstaged by, well, the stage. The Lincoln Memorial managed to do so quite nicely.



Good show though- even the Garth Brooks bit.

Updated Proverb.

They say that procrastination is the thief of time. It isn't. Work is the thief of time.

A Millionaire's Club of 100 Windbags

Is Dianne Feinstein gunning to be the new Joe Lieberman? Can we expect a sudden and ongoing conversion to principled stands on points of law by the California senator, or is she just pissed about being forgotten over the Panetta/CIA pick and has decided to act like Anne Bancroft in GI Jane? You be the judge....

Q Ships?

A recent letter to the Economist brought up the idea of "Q Ships" as a means to combating the pirate menace off the Horn of Africa. Regardless of the practicality of the suggestion (which is limited, one suspects) I was sent off on a wave of nostalgia by the mere mention of these armed decoys.

When I was a small lad I was given a collection of adventure stories for a birthday or a Christmas. This book accompanied me just about everywhere (much to the chagrin of my dad: "We are on bloody holiday, get your nose out of that book look out the bloody window at the bloody scenery"). I wish I could remember the title or the publisher but I do recall that the collection contained all the usual suspects (climbing Aconcagua, the chicken switch, the fights of Jack Dempsey, the battle of Leyete Gulf, To Build a Fire, Churchill's escape from the Boers, and- oddly- The Pit and the Pendulum).

All of these stories were great but the one that inspired me most of all was the story of the Q Ships. Perhaps this was because my reading the story for the first time coincided with Mr T transforming broken vehicles into tanks on the A Team, or perhaps because I loved the pure justice of sneakiness countering stealth and restoring fairness to the ocean battle space, but I loved Q Ships. The letter in the Economist has thus inspired share the following link:

Q Ships

I'm looking for volunteers for the 'Panic Party'.

I think we are going to have a white Christmas.

And I'm the poor sodding Grinch who has to shovel out the driveway for Santa....

Actually, It's quite breathtakingly pretty around here. This might be some of the most snow I've seen on the coast in 15 years in Maine, or that might be an element of denial. No matter: its easy to dig out (fine powder), I don't have to be anywhere in work drag for the next two weeks, and its nice to occasionally live in an Irving Berlin song. Witness:

Flame On

I don't patronize chain restaurants as a rule. Aside from any touchy feely reasons, I live on the end of a very long corporate supply chain and thus would rather give my $4 sandwich money to the local bloke who bought haddock caught by boats I can see from my office window rather than industrially produced and stored beef or chicken from thousands of miles distant (Yummmmmm! Fresh...not).

This doesn't mean I can't admire Burger King's absoulutely stellar advertising efforts of late (they even have Arby's trying to copy them: cf the creepy beef hat erection ad the sandwich chain is running). Case in point:

Burger King 'Flame' Cologne for Men

For many English men out there, smelling all beefy used to mean emulating this guy. No longer...

Stumped for Gifts? 09

After much hoo-haa and fannying about, I am proud to present this year's burnt offering on the altar of rubbish commerce:

Stumped for Gifts? 09
Traditionally, I have always started the Stumped for Gifts? guide with a present idea that is in tune with the religious underpinnings of Christmas. This year is no exception, and I am proud to suggest The Cockney Bible:


I sincerely hope it contains the phrase, "Judas, you effin slag".

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Political gifts are always good fun, especially those in dubious taste. Here's a classic rife with not so hidden symbolism:


The Maggie Thatcher nutcracker. As we are dealing in stereotypes, I await with trepidation the "Once you go Barak, you never go back" lemon zester.

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Stave of the realization that you will never marry and that other people think you smell of cat pee and tinned food by immersing yourself in the pet fantasy:


How Cunning is Your Cat? What a concept. According to the product information: A series of 9 tests to determine just how cunning your cat really is. Tests include: testing your moggy's curiosity, body image and intelligence. A free catnip mouse has been included to give Tibbs a bit of encouragement. Suitable for cats.

Of course, we know cats aren't cunning. They are instead the pure distillation of evil.

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Since childhood I've been a sucker for ads that start "Amaze your friends, shock your spouse, or co-workers...". That said, I'm not sure if slip on "Tattoo Sleeves" are for me:


Although the sellers raise a good point in this troubled economy: Now you can get "inked" by night and still keep your day job with our amazingly cool "tattoo sleeves".
Wondering how it works? Me neither, but just in case: the tattoo is printed directly on the stretchable fabric sleeves fabric which is a machine washable nylon. And now you know.

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I always like a gift that does what it says on the tin:



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And finally, if anyone wants to get a gift that will enable siblings to play board games against each other without cheating or fighting for the first time in their lifetimes (I know of which I type), might I suggest Choc-opoly?


As the makers say, In Chocolate-opoly players buy favorite chocolate properties, collect chunks of chocolate and trade them in for chocolate factories

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On a final holiday note, the season of goodwill to all even extends in one instance from me to Britain's vilest newspaper, The Daily Mail if only in this solitary instance. With clenched teeth, I present the Mail's (unintentionally?) hilarious account of a debacle at a Christmas-centric theme park:

Furious parents attack Santa and his elves as tempers fray at Winter 'blunderland' theme park
As tempers fray, it seems this little corner of Lapland, which opened on the Dorset-Hampshire border at the weekend, is going from mudbath to bloodbath. One security guard, who obligingly told visitors at the gate they were about to be 'ripped off', quit after being hit on the head by one who didn't appreciate the advice....

Happy holidays!

This is not an Iraq War Blog

Dictator's head
Dick head.

"Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful."

A touch of self indulgence...

Possibly my favorite photo of our kid to date:

A sight to warm the heart in these dark times.

Norwich beat Ipswich 2-0. That's it- recession over.

The best part? They had a celebrity turn on the lights.

I am busily collecting gift suggestions for the "Stumped for Gifts? 08" Guide, but can only hope that you actively awaiting shopping ideas from yours truly have invested in a tree like this one:


Festive tree an 'insult' to town
My old housemate Mr. Jones and myself once had a similar tree. We 'found' it in a small wood and only selected it as it had two trunks- one each- so that we could both decorate it in our own style. In place of baubles we used a lot of darts flights strung on paper clips, I recall.

Weasel's Black Friday to follow soon

Be aware: the annual "Stumped for Gifts?" holiday gift guide will soon be making its appearance on these pages.

Begin the clipping of the coupons.

Stumped for Gifts? 2005

Stumped for Gifts? 2006

Stumped for Gifts? 2007