Thursday, February 26, 2015

The Man Who Was Thursday

Or, in my case, The Man Who Was Thirsty. I'm busy doing stuff and junk. Hmm. I never realized I had a GoodReads page. I don't get out enough, I guess.

I'm tired of writing achingly brilliant things that nobody reads, so I decided to post mildly interesting things, because reasons. Intertunnel reasons. The Intertunnel is like the telephone game except everyone's hard of hearing and has Tourette's Syndrome. Me, I try to stay around the edges and laugh, like a food fight in the cafeteria. Here's a list of (not entirely unwonderful) wonderful things for you to peruse. You can like any one you like, but please: No wagering.

S.Weasel has discovered the greatest website in the world if you get tired of Lingscars is magnifique. 
If the Internet was a rodeo clown with delirium tremens, it would be Lings Cars

I've been listening to a ten-hour version of The Girl From Ipanema
Finally some funny YouTube comments: "I liked the part about the girl from Ipanema."

Gerard's list of journalistic cliches
It insists upon itself.

Here's a series of maps of crime by state from Business Insider
Please note Maine. No one tries pulling any shite while I'm in the state.

Here's a list of all the Alt codes for pretty much every symbol you want to type.
Note: Alt codes have nothing to do with Gender Studies.

Students at McGill University can't compute the average of a few even numbers.
They're not just in college. They're in college to become teachers.

Car surrounded by deer in Eastport, Maine.
People think this is lovely, but unless I'm very wrong, the deer are hanging around people because they're starving.That's the only reason I hang around people.

This is the greatest board game ever devised. That's why you can't buy one.

Well, sorta can't. You could if you had money, but it's solitaire for us. One of the Best Jobs in the World
My Interfriend the Execupundit has a sunny outlook on life. It's almost depressing for an Irishman to read it.

My Interfriend Thud in Liverpool builds wondrous stuff. Going Green.
I thought everything beautiful and useful was banished from the world forevermore. Thud proves me wrong by building things and having children.

Harriett reads and comments here, and I think of her as something akin to my target audience. This is the most moving tribute to an ordinary person I've ever read.
I'd rather someone asked why they didn't put up a statue to me, than why they did. 


Joan of Argghh! said...

Just read "The Man Who Was Thursday" last year. All I can say is: !

Sam L. said...

The woman who IS Thursday is a character in some of Jasper Fford's novels. Her last name is Next. Her mom is Wednesday; her son, Friday.
I recommend them as interesting, funny, and "purty dang odd". Being pdo mahsef, y'all kin see why I likes 'em. And talk about coinkydinks! The photo in S.Weasel's blog post is of a fountain in Swindon, whereat Thursday lives.

That Execupundit does have the occasional good thought.

I'm guessing the Heir and the Spare
will be your monuments. I'm seein' signs and portents. Tea's strooooong today.

Russell said...

If you're tired of, you're tired of life. Or something.

At any rate, Chesterton would have something pithy, witty and standing upside-down to say.

I found it to be an amusing collection of links.

vanderleun said...

"I've been listening to a ten-hour version of The Girl From Ipanema"

Well, there's your problem right there. Bite down on this stick and hold still and we'll pry it out in no time.

Leslie said...

I would love that Masterpiece game. I remember the commercial, now that you mention it.

Anonymous said...

Well you may be tired of writing but I have never interacted with anyone familiar with it who has not agreed unabashedly that My Father Asks for Nothing is one of the greatest essays they have ever had the great fortune to experience.

And in this, they're absolutely right.
It's like a Litmuss Lozenge for finding people you can stand to have a conversation or spend over a minute straight with.

SippicanCottage said...

Dave, that's a wonderful thing to say, and I appreciate it. He was a nice man, and I miss him.

EarlW said...

...but it's an English Quebec college. What are those poor students with no clue going to do? Teaching jobs are cushy. 2 months off, lots of other vacations and a strong union to keep them employed and sucking at the public teat.
Who's going to complain? The taxpayers? The parents?

Let me know if you come to Montreal. I'll give you a tour of the McGill campus.