This blog covers everything except sports and gardening, unless we find a really good link about using dead professional bowlers for mulch. The author is a StarTribune columnist, has been passing off fiction and hyperbole as insight since 1997, has run his own website since the Jurassic era of AOL, and was online when today’s college sophomores were a year away from being born. So get off his lawn.
Yesterday’s post about the Spanish building without elevators needs to be clarified somewhat, given that it was absolutely wrong. Barcepundit says:
The building is ugly as hell, to be sure, but it does have elevators. It's got not one, not two — it's got eleven: 3 in each of the towers (two of them high capacity for lifting furniture), plus 4 for the penthouses on top, plus a panoramic one on the outside. It takes less than one minute to ride on them from bottom to top.
The hoax seems to come from a bad translation by Gizmodo of a somewhat confusing article in the Spanish daily El País.
Sorry about that.
COMIC SINS Yesterday’s Grimm was notable for its Watergate reference; today is just . . . well, let’s share it together.
Leaving aside the fact that the dog goes to a gym to hook up with vacant-eyed humans, and ignoring for a moment the fact that the tennis player cannot pass the cream without channelling the ferocity she brings to her profession, and allowing for the peculiar wording of Grimm’s request for her to “reach over” to get the cream, wouldn’t you use “pass” if she was a football player?
Isn’t serve the word we’re missing here?
RICHIE RICH IRL The stepmom had a drink in one hand and a bowl of Trix in the other, which which is probably why she lost control of the car and hit a tree. The kids in the bak made it back to the house - well, more like the mansion. We pick up the story here:
The twins' father, Walker Inman, 57, lumbered from the mansion, his tattooed sleeves visible under a black T-shirt, drinking his morning rum, bellowing, "What the *$&! did you do to my children?" Morbidly obese after a lifetime of debauchery and heroin addiction, he looked past his keening kids to glare at his fifth wife. "Honey," Walker rumbled, "we're going for a ride." He grabbed Daralee, hopped into his red Dodge truck and took off in a spray of gravel toward the wreckage down the mountain – then promptly lost control of the vehicle, which rolled onto the driver's side and skidded to a stop.
Would you put up with that for half a billion dollars? Because that's what the kids will get when they get old enough to inherit a huge tobacco fortune. More here at Rolling Stone.
THE FUTURE LOOKS LIKE 1975 AGAIN Sure I can’t be the only person who reacted to this story by wondering whether Mariette Hartley would have two navels.
HISTORY Inadvertent documentary: Los Angeles in the age of Hats. In color. Oh, come on. It’s short.
It’s part of a post about LA in different eras. Want more? Fine: here’s the age of street signage that critics would call messy and ugly, and eventually ban across the country by passing laws against perpendicular signage.
The Getty watermakr in the first one suggests they’re to blame for the music on the second one - which ends right before the guy in the powder blue car gets out with a tire iron to wail on the filmmaker, perhaps.
So what are these? I doubt anyone at a studio was sitting around the office, and suddenly said “you know, Bob, the world changes by small increments, rarely all at once. Everything shifts and diminishes, and one day the world has been completely made over by the hand of time and the mind of man. I’d better go out with the camera and get some footage of what it looked like before it’s lost, and all who remember are dead.”
”Great,” Bob says. “Fill up the car before you bring it back.”
Even more here.
VINE RULES I really hope Instagram doesn’t win the short-video war, because there’s just something about Vine. It’s short enough; you know you’ll never get bored, whereas an Instagram video can really start to feel long after nine or ten seconds. It’s like Twitter with a 360 word limit. For example: Cosby pudding portrait.
More here. In related news, Donald Trump is on Vine, and mostly telling Carlos Danger to hang it up.
Oh, all right, here’s the double-navel thing. Don’t worry; this is safe for work. It has to be. She’s in a two-piece, and the ‘stache-man doesn’t have a shirt, but for heaven’s sake this is 40-year-old television.
It was Genesis II, Gene Roddenberry’s eagerly-awaited follow-up to “Star Trek,” and a complete disappointment to all. The pneumatic transport was supposed to be the equivalent of the Enterprise going to various planets, but somehow swapping a starship for a subway just didn’t have the same appeal.
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