Comedy gold

Here’s one more rea­son that I love Cor­ner Gas:

Hank, think­ing he’s psy­chic*, tries to explain the dis­turb­ing dream he had the night before.

Hank: I just, I woke up with this uneasy feeling.
Brent: You ate cot­ton can­dy and pep­per­oni for sup­per last night. It’s a won­der you woke up at all.

____

* Or phy­cic, as the Dog Riv­er Howler spelt it.

Viking kitties

So I’ve been work­ing in my base­ment for the last few weeks. This means I’ve been lis­ten­ing to rather more radio than I usu­al­ly do.

There are two music sta­tions in town that I like, and in the car I’ll switch back and forth quite hap­pi­ly between “Local Town’s Best Rock” and the col­lege sta­tion. But in the base­ment, on my wife’s lit­tle pink stereo that she’s had for who knows how long, the col­lege sta­tion does­n’t come in so well. (Unless you like sta­t­ic.) So I’ve large­ly been lis­ten­ing the Best Rock sta­tion. They like to play Led Zep­pelin, and some­times they like to play Led Zep­pelin’s “Immi­grant Song”.

Which would be fine, if I’d nev­er seen this.

There. I dare you to not think of that lit­tle piece of online bril­liance the next time “The Immi­grant Song” comes on the radio.

Flickrblogging — IMG_6327


IMG_6327
Dis­cov­ered in calanimepho­tos’s Flickr photostream. 

She bris­tled at the name. “Robin? Don’t even— Don’t even talk to me about that lit­tle suck­up. Don’t even men­tion his name. Seri­ous­ly.” Rolling her eyes: “He spent like two days on the phones, then got pro­mot­ed. Now I hear he does field­work. What is he, six­teen? Man, let me tell you— Sor­ry, hang on, I got­ta take this.”

Con­tin­ue read­ing “Flick­r­blog­ging — IMG_6327

Election funnies

So there’s a provin­cial elec­tion com­ing up. The incum­bent par­ty, the New Democ­rats, have decid­ed to use “For­ward, Not Back” as a slo­gan in this election:
Election campaign

Which makes me won­der if no one–no one–in their entire cam­paign appa­ra­tus has seen the Simp­sons episode where Kang and Kodos run for elec­tion on Earth:

Frinkiac: Twirling toward freedom!

I mean, real­ly. Some­times it’s just too easy.Save

Save

Shakespeare’s Birthday

This was the front of our wed­ding invitations:

Just in time for Valentine's Day...

…Love is not love
Which alters when it alter­ation finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! It is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tem­pests and is nev­er shaken;
It is the star to every wan­der­ing bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, though his height be taken.

In case you’re wor­ried that I was all squidgy and roman­tic, they said, inside, “RSVP or else”. You can do any­thing when you make your own invitations.

Remains of Earth Day

So yes­ter­day there were a bunch of peo­ple on cam­pus, cel­e­brat­ing Earth Day. Today there was a sculp­ture left behind, and I can’t hon­est­ly tell if there’s a state­ment being made by the sculp­ture or not. It looks to my non-con­nois­seur’s eye like some­one threw a bunch of small objects and bits of string in the air, and on the way down it all col­lid­ed in such a way that the strings tied them­selves around the objects. Then it all kind of land­ed on some twigs stuck in the ground. Sort of like a rever­sal of time’s arrow, a denial of entropy.

If I remem­ber my cam­era tomorrow–and if some­one has­n’t removed the art projects–I’ll take some pho­tos, so you can see what I mean.