We'll have to be satisfied with this production photo of John Nardi.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Kill The Irishman
Horror of horrors! I don't have the pictures from this film on Photobucket!
We'll have to be satisfied with this production photo of John Nardi.
We'll have to be satisfied with this production photo of John Nardi.
Wednesday, May 08, 2013
Monday, May 06, 2013
Education US and UK Style
Time after time I watch aghast as TV shows show US university life. Women students demeaning themselves on "spring break", or even getting murdered. "Campus police" dealing with serious crimes without reference to the real police. Hazing rituals to gain entry to sororities and fraternities.
What planet is this? I can't speak for Oxford and Cambridge with their strange clubs (like the Bullingdon Club that our glorious leaders Cameron and Osborne graced with their illustrious presence and recruit those who will continue to "lead" us in future) but British universities otherwise don't have these weird anachronisms.
Anyone who's ever watched Morse knows that the real police handle crimes even in Oxford colleges. There is no such thing as spring break. Instead we have the Easter vacation, when we either go home for a month to study or relax, or work to earn much-needed funds.
As for sororities and fraternities, there is no such thing. Some universities are collegiate, and these colleges create alliances and loyalties. But this "pledging" - unless, as I say, some Oxbridge colleges have such ancient, occult and arcane practices that the outside pleb does not get to hear about - is thankfully absent from our places of higher education.
Now Freshers week...that's another matter. How to introduce new students to life away from home and drown their homesickness in pools of alcohol and vomit. You can sign up for clubs - sports, political, theatrical, apathy (no one bothers to turn up for meetings). There are outings to places where you can get blotto, often with benefit of free beer tickets.
The drinking games help - Bunnies and Fizzbuzz have always been popular. For those unfamiliar, in Bunnies, the Bunny Master waggled fingers either side of the head like bunny ears, and the person either side waggles the hand nearest the Master, who then points across the circle where the person they point at and their neighbours repeat the performance. Any mistake is subject to forfeit, usually a substantial swig of booze. Hence, the longer the game goes on, the drinker the players get, the more mistakes they make and the more hilarity is caused.
Fizzbuzz is an altogether more intellectual game. The players go round the circle counting, replacing every number with 5 in, or multiple of 5, with Fizz, and ditto 7 with Buzz. Numbers containing or being multiples of both are replaced with Fizzbuzz. The Master can reverse the order, just to make matters more complicated. Any mistake is also punished with alcoholic intake.
When I was a second year helping the Freshers to relax, we were in the Lake District at a posh hotel (one of many places we were never allowed back to...) and followed up with rowing boat trips out on to Windermere, the largest of the lakes. The people on my boat spent the next hour trying to strand one another on the many islands we landed on.
Happy days.
What planet is this? I can't speak for Oxford and Cambridge with their strange clubs (like the Bullingdon Club that our glorious leaders Cameron and Osborne graced with their illustrious presence and recruit those who will continue to "lead" us in future) but British universities otherwise don't have these weird anachronisms.
Anyone who's ever watched Morse knows that the real police handle crimes even in Oxford colleges. There is no such thing as spring break. Instead we have the Easter vacation, when we either go home for a month to study or relax, or work to earn much-needed funds.
As for sororities and fraternities, there is no such thing. Some universities are collegiate, and these colleges create alliances and loyalties. But this "pledging" - unless, as I say, some Oxbridge colleges have such ancient, occult and arcane practices that the outside pleb does not get to hear about - is thankfully absent from our places of higher education.
Now Freshers week...that's another matter. How to introduce new students to life away from home and drown their homesickness in pools of alcohol and vomit. You can sign up for clubs - sports, political, theatrical, apathy (no one bothers to turn up for meetings). There are outings to places where you can get blotto, often with benefit of free beer tickets.
The drinking games help - Bunnies and Fizzbuzz have always been popular. For those unfamiliar, in Bunnies, the Bunny Master waggled fingers either side of the head like bunny ears, and the person either side waggles the hand nearest the Master, who then points across the circle where the person they point at and their neighbours repeat the performance. Any mistake is subject to forfeit, usually a substantial swig of booze. Hence, the longer the game goes on, the drinker the players get, the more mistakes they make and the more hilarity is caused.
Fizzbuzz is an altogether more intellectual game. The players go round the circle counting, replacing every number with 5 in, or multiple of 5, with Fizz, and ditto 7 with Buzz. Numbers containing or being multiples of both are replaced with Fizzbuzz. The Master can reverse the order, just to make matters more complicated. Any mistake is also punished with alcoholic intake.
When I was a second year helping the Freshers to relax, we were in the Lake District at a posh hotel (one of many places we were never allowed back to...) and followed up with rowing boat trips out on to Windermere, the largest of the lakes. The people on my boat spent the next hour trying to strand one another on the many islands we landed on.
Happy days.
Sunday, May 05, 2013
The Break Up
Sorry for the squished up head. Another of those cases where I got the capture ratio wrong...
Still, Dennis Grobowski is a sweet character.
Still, Dennis Grobowski is a sweet character.
Friday, May 03, 2013
That Championship Season
Phil Romano. The only member of this midget cast capable of being mistaken for a basketball player.
Thursday, May 02, 2013
That Was The Week That Was
No, not the 1960s satirical show that launched David Frost's career. Just my week so far. Stick with it, it's worth it.
Monday was a write-off. I had a 2.10pm appointment for a lumbar x-ray to support my boob reduction case.
I got up at sparrow-fart on Tuesday in case I got a call to work, but hoping I could spend a sunny day at the zoo. I got a call to work. On the way home I spent the day's pay (which I don't receive till next week) on vet supplies.
I got up just as early on Wednesday in case I got a call to work, but hoping I could spend a sunny day at the zoo. I got a call to work.
This is casual as-and-when work, for an ASD school I've worked for a lot, but it moved over Easter into a brand spanking new building.
I don't know if US schools still have these in their classrooms (no, not Bobby's hand, the blackboard) but in Britain they are long gone.
We've had interactive whiteboards pretty well everywhere for about 15 years, and before that most places had drywipe whiteboards rather than messy chalk. Well, this school has super-deluxe models where the computer, DVD player, USB ports, electric controls for the windows and anything else you can think of are built in.
The teacher controls it with a remote keyboard which is about a third of the size of a laptop keyboard.
It is the most frustrating instrument I have ever had the misfortune to work with.
The buttons top left are the left and right mouse clicks. The ball at top right is the cursor mover, the rest of the ouse function, I guess. It is the most inexact, difficult to control piece of shit any man could have dreamed up (don't tell me it might have been a woman, we all know it couldn't be so).
There are lots of great sensory things in the playground, but sandpits? The younger kids spend all their breaktime putting it down their own and their friends' necks. Only a matter of time till it goes in some eyes...
Then there are the flower beds. The plants, which haven't rooted yet, never will, as they are a convenient handful to pull out and throw around.
Well, as there is a lot of walking to be done in this new building, and I was standing around cooking for a lot of the time, I was pretty exhausted by the end of Wednesday. But luckily Thursday dawned warm and sunny, and there was no call to work, so off I went to the zoo.
It was worth waiting for.
Firstly, the new male gorilla, Kumbuka, was with young Mjukuu for about the first time. They showed a professional level of acting indifferent. He looks at her, she looks away. He looks away, she looks at him. She circles round him. He pretends not to notice. He sits around nonchalantly, she gathers sacks and carries them up to the highest perch she can find.
I don't think he quite gets alpha male dominance yet.
Jae Jae was being particularly fetching. His back was to the window, then he rolled over towards the glass and treated us to these views of his beauteousness.
Jae Jae's enrichment included a piece of meat on top of his climbing frame, with a trail of blood leading to it. I stitched three pieces of video together and shut off the volume, but couldn't convert it into anything usable, so here are three pieces of rough footage for which you might want to turn down the keeper's commentary which is interspersed with crowd noise.
He follows the trail.
He makes his "kill".
He chomps his prize.
Monday was a write-off. I had a 2.10pm appointment for a lumbar x-ray to support my boob reduction case.
I got up at sparrow-fart on Tuesday in case I got a call to work, but hoping I could spend a sunny day at the zoo. I got a call to work. On the way home I spent the day's pay (which I don't receive till next week) on vet supplies.
I got up just as early on Wednesday in case I got a call to work, but hoping I could spend a sunny day at the zoo. I got a call to work.
This is casual as-and-when work, for an ASD school I've worked for a lot, but it moved over Easter into a brand spanking new building.
I don't know if US schools still have these in their classrooms (no, not Bobby's hand, the blackboard) but in Britain they are long gone.
We've had interactive whiteboards pretty well everywhere for about 15 years, and before that most places had drywipe whiteboards rather than messy chalk. Well, this school has super-deluxe models where the computer, DVD player, USB ports, electric controls for the windows and anything else you can think of are built in.
The teacher controls it with a remote keyboard which is about a third of the size of a laptop keyboard.
It is the most frustrating instrument I have ever had the misfortune to work with.
The buttons top left are the left and right mouse clicks. The ball at top right is the cursor mover, the rest of the ouse function, I guess. It is the most inexact, difficult to control piece of shit any man could have dreamed up (don't tell me it might have been a woman, we all know it couldn't be so).
There are lots of great sensory things in the playground, but sandpits? The younger kids spend all their breaktime putting it down their own and their friends' necks. Only a matter of time till it goes in some eyes...
Then there are the flower beds. The plants, which haven't rooted yet, never will, as they are a convenient handful to pull out and throw around.
Well, as there is a lot of walking to be done in this new building, and I was standing around cooking for a lot of the time, I was pretty exhausted by the end of Wednesday. But luckily Thursday dawned warm and sunny, and there was no call to work, so off I went to the zoo.
It was worth waiting for.
Firstly, the new male gorilla, Kumbuka, was with young Mjukuu for about the first time. They showed a professional level of acting indifferent. He looks at her, she looks away. He looks away, she looks at him. She circles round him. He pretends not to notice. He sits around nonchalantly, she gathers sacks and carries them up to the highest perch she can find.
I don't think he quite gets alpha male dominance yet.
Jae Jae was being particularly fetching. His back was to the window, then he rolled over towards the glass and treated us to these views of his beauteousness.
Jae Jae's enrichment included a piece of meat on top of his climbing frame, with a trail of blood leading to it. I stitched three pieces of video together and shut off the volume, but couldn't convert it into anything usable, so here are three pieces of rough footage for which you might want to turn down the keeper's commentary which is interspersed with crowd noise.
He follows the trail.
He makes his "kill".
He chomps his prize.
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Stuart Saves His Family
The very BIG Mr Smalley. Donnie's not Vincent's best look.
Can't disguise those curls though...
Can't disguise those curls though...
Monday, April 29, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
Leftovers
There was this wonderful comedy programme years ago called The Young Ones, which had some completely disparate student types sharing a house.
The long-haired hippie Neil, played by Nigel Planer, was supposed to be preparing the meal one day. He emptied the kitchen bin on the table, and when one of the others asked him what it was, he said, "Leftovers".
Well, the genius that is Richard Benyon MP, a Tory politician who likes us all to be "in it together" (as long as they and their rich friends are excused) has been giving advice to those in food poverty. Obviously as a rich twat he must be an expert on this subject.
He said the poor waste too much food. They should eat their leftovers. And cheese lasts a lot longer if you wrap it properly before putting it back in the fridge.
Well, thank you for that. I assume that those on benefits will now be receiving clingfilm with their benefits, as they could not afford to buy that and the cheese to wrap in it. Actually, don't bother, they probably can't afford the cheese either.
As for leftovers, the poor would probably be better off if Mr Benyon and his rich friends donated their leftovers (preferably without putting them in the bin first then retrieving them).
I tweeted Mr Benyon this morning asking him for his potato peelings, carrot scrapings, onion skin and gristle stir fry recipe, but so far he hasn't replied.
This surprises me, because I ran out of characters in my tweet after getting as far as "patronising c"
No prizes for guesing what the "c" was for.
Meanwhile I'm off to get my leftovers out of the bin. I suppose I have to wash them before eating them. I don't think the cat litter they share the bag with has much goodness in it.
The long-haired hippie Neil, played by Nigel Planer, was supposed to be preparing the meal one day. He emptied the kitchen bin on the table, and when one of the others asked him what it was, he said, "Leftovers".
Well, the genius that is Richard Benyon MP, a Tory politician who likes us all to be "in it together" (as long as they and their rich friends are excused) has been giving advice to those in food poverty. Obviously as a rich twat he must be an expert on this subject.
He said the poor waste too much food. They should eat their leftovers. And cheese lasts a lot longer if you wrap it properly before putting it back in the fridge.
Well, thank you for that. I assume that those on benefits will now be receiving clingfilm with their benefits, as they could not afford to buy that and the cheese to wrap in it. Actually, don't bother, they probably can't afford the cheese either.
As for leftovers, the poor would probably be better off if Mr Benyon and his rich friends donated their leftovers (preferably without putting them in the bin first then retrieving them).
I tweeted Mr Benyon this morning asking him for his potato peelings, carrot scrapings, onion skin and gristle stir fry recipe, but so far he hasn't replied.
This surprises me, because I ran out of characters in my tweet after getting as far as "patronising c"
No prizes for guesing what the "c" was for.
Meanwhile I'm off to get my leftovers out of the bin. I suppose I have to wash them before eating them. I don't think the cat litter they share the bag with has much goodness in it.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Flehmen Unkind
Kitty cats large and small have a special organ in the roof of their mouths that increases their ability to smell, which is why you will often see them smelling stuff - or more often the air - with their mouths open. It's called the Jacobson's Organ, and the action is called "flehmen".
Well when you house some anoa (a species of small Indonesian buffalo) next door to the new tiger enclosure in a zoo, two things seem likely to happen: the anoa will be reluctant to come outside; and the tiger will lose all interest in mating with his new love and pace around dreaming of hunting his own dinner - even if he has been bred in captivity and has never hunted more than a stray pigeon.
That's what's happening to JaeJae at London Zoo.
He started the day enticingly close to the glass, enabling parents to get their vile offspring in the same photographic frame as the big boy. He stayed that way during "enrichment", when a keeper tried to lure him to the fence with offerings of meat.
Later, though, he woke up to the smell of fresh anoa and paced around trying to catch a glimpse, and perhaps a morsel, of his potential prey:
He stood on top of a convenient rock demonstrating the flehmen reaction:
In the old tiger enclosure it was too cold for the pygmy hippos to venture outside, so one dozed inside by the window doing an imitation of a leather sofa:
One of the colobus monkeys has a new baby. She's just three weeks old:
I knew I should have made a note of the names of these two types of snakes, but I didn't and I've forgotten. The first is a tangle of two or three, the green beauty just drapes itself over a branch in coils like a complicated piece of washing on the line:
On the subject of snakes, here are my new glasses - the ones that set me back over £450. Could have bought a real snake and a vivarium for that.
Well when you house some anoa (a species of small Indonesian buffalo) next door to the new tiger enclosure in a zoo, two things seem likely to happen: the anoa will be reluctant to come outside; and the tiger will lose all interest in mating with his new love and pace around dreaming of hunting his own dinner - even if he has been bred in captivity and has never hunted more than a stray pigeon.
That's what's happening to JaeJae at London Zoo.
He started the day enticingly close to the glass, enabling parents to get their vile offspring in the same photographic frame as the big boy. He stayed that way during "enrichment", when a keeper tried to lure him to the fence with offerings of meat.
Later, though, he woke up to the smell of fresh anoa and paced around trying to catch a glimpse, and perhaps a morsel, of his potential prey:
He stood on top of a convenient rock demonstrating the flehmen reaction:
In the old tiger enclosure it was too cold for the pygmy hippos to venture outside, so one dozed inside by the window doing an imitation of a leather sofa:
One of the colobus monkeys has a new baby. She's just three weeks old:
I knew I should have made a note of the names of these two types of snakes, but I didn't and I've forgotten. The first is a tangle of two or three, the green beauty just drapes itself over a branch in coils like a complicated piece of washing on the line:
On the subject of snakes, here are my new glasses - the ones that set me back over £450. Could have bought a real snake and a vivarium for that.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Sweet Sound
Of helicopters. London Marathon day and the start is only a mile or two away. Though the elite runners went 50 minutes ago, so it's quiet ended down a bit. The ordinary folks don't count so much...
Friday, April 19, 2013
Salute of the Jugger
Damaged but alive - and still alive at the end! Gar. The name is the same as the sound I would make if we did the dirty dance together, methinks.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
A Question...
...for the US Senators who think their loyalty should be to the gun lobby rather than their constituents.
As a mere UK citizen, I watch a lot of US cop shows, and when a school is featured, there always seem to be security guards employed there.
We don't have that over here. So tell me, please, how do you work it out that YOU are the guardians of freedom in this world, when even your kids need protecting from the guns you love by such a huge curtailment of their freedom in what should be the safest place for them?
We had a school gun massacre once, nearly as bad as Newtown. Just once. We immediately restricted gun ownership even further, and made sure all target weapons were locked up in gun clubs. There were few complaints, and none of our elected representatives was against the changes. No one lost a freedom that was truly valued.
You people are the dregs of the world. Protect ALL your citizens, not just those who make guns or those who love to shoot. You aren't living in the wild west any more. Reject the bribery of the gun manufacturers and be men (I guess most of you are male) by standing up for what's right.
As a mere UK citizen, I watch a lot of US cop shows, and when a school is featured, there always seem to be security guards employed there.
We don't have that over here. So tell me, please, how do you work it out that YOU are the guardians of freedom in this world, when even your kids need protecting from the guns you love by such a huge curtailment of their freedom in what should be the safest place for them?
We had a school gun massacre once, nearly as bad as Newtown. Just once. We immediately restricted gun ownership even further, and made sure all target weapons were locked up in gun clubs. There were few complaints, and none of our elected representatives was against the changes. No one lost a freedom that was truly valued.
You people are the dregs of the world. Protect ALL your citizens, not just those who make guns or those who love to shoot. You aren't living in the wild west any more. Reject the bribery of the gun manufacturers and be men (I guess most of you are male) by standing up for what's right.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
A Tale of Two PMs
One Prime Minister built up post-war Britain as a home for heroes. The other dismantled as much as she could so as to enrich the rich still further.
Which one deserved a ceremonial funeral? Not the one who got it.
Clement Attlee oversaw the creation of the welfare state and nationalisation of public utilities and some industries.
Thanks to him, Britain prospered. We had publicly owned companies to give us water, electricity and gas, to provide our bus and rail services, to produce steel and build ships, and to dig up coal.
Margaret Thatcher took his legacy apart, giving the profits from OUR services and giving them to shareholders rather than ploughing them back into those services. Now her acolyte Cameron is trying to finish the job that she started by destroying our greatest treasure, the National Health Service.
Attlee wold not have come across well in the TV age. He was not a great orator. He was not a larger-than-life character like Churchill, with whom he served as Deputy Prime Minister during the wartime coalition government. There was a contemporary joke that an empty cab pulled up and Mr Attlee got out.
He was later created an Earl, and his title continues, just, though his grandson, at 57, is still childless. The title will therefore die - just as well, because this treacherous man is a Conservative in the House of Lords.
I would be so proud to have such a distinguished ancestor. John Attlee, hang your head in shame. Think of the good you could have done if you'd followed your in illustious grandfather's footsteps.
Which one deserved a ceremonial funeral? Not the one who got it.
Clement Attlee oversaw the creation of the welfare state and nationalisation of public utilities and some industries.
Thanks to him, Britain prospered. We had publicly owned companies to give us water, electricity and gas, to provide our bus and rail services, to produce steel and build ships, and to dig up coal.
Margaret Thatcher took his legacy apart, giving the profits from OUR services and giving them to shareholders rather than ploughing them back into those services. Now her acolyte Cameron is trying to finish the job that she started by destroying our greatest treasure, the National Health Service.
Attlee wold not have come across well in the TV age. He was not a great orator. He was not a larger-than-life character like Churchill, with whom he served as Deputy Prime Minister during the wartime coalition government. There was a contemporary joke that an empty cab pulled up and Mr Attlee got out.
He was later created an Earl, and his title continues, just, though his grandson, at 57, is still childless. The title will therefore die - just as well, because this treacherous man is a Conservative in the House of Lords.
I would be so proud to have such a distinguished ancestor. John Attlee, hang your head in shame. Think of the good you could have done if you'd followed your in illustious grandfather's footsteps.
The Salton Sea
The completely unprepossessing Pooh Bear.
Yet somehow cute, and all because of his portrayer.
Yet somehow cute, and all because of his portrayer.
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