cklablog

“Do not think to escape me, sir. I’m afraid I cannot permit it.”

“Baaaaa.”

“I have heard such a thing, yes. But you neglect a key detail.”

“Baaaa?”

“The present is clear; the future is known only to God.”

“Baaaaaaaaaa.”

“Then I shall send you to Him. On guard, sir.”

Almost three years ago, towards the beginning of my attempt to learn to cook, I had my first and only inedible culinary failure. I tried to make Spoon Lamb (Gigot De Sept Heures), a provinical French dish that was to render a leg of lamb so tender that you could eat it with a spoon.

Roasted for hours in root vegetables, wine and herbs, this lamb would be served in its own sauce over white beans.  What could be better?

Alas, I didn’t read carefully enough to realize that you absolutely had to cover the lamb in foil before you roasted it for six hours. Needless to say, I ended up with Shoe Lamb (Chaussure De Sept Heures).

This week I’ve been reading the Three Musketeers (in order to work up my courage, drunken insouciance and general sense of romantic adventure), and tomorrow, I will revisit my Own Private Waterloo, and this time I will conquer Spoon Lamb.  

I have you in my eye, sir.

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What ever happened to getting caught with transvetite prostitutes? Is that completely passe now?

Note to self: if I plan to make my primary life’s scam that of a right-wing “family values” politician, don’t be a lying stupid hypocrite. Depite the laughably predictable insincerity from a moralist, this California Congressman’s litany of sexual conquest makes better listening than the second hand accounts of gay bathroom sex we’ve grown used to here in ‘Merica.

This one initially scores 8.5 for prurient detail alone, but gets bumped up to 9.0 for the fact he was cheating on one mistress with the other, his wife apparently out of the picture altogether, and both mistresses were also lobbyists.

An Argentine soul-mate? CHILD’S PLAY.

My new #1 Internet Fact™: You don’t cheat on Therese Ziemann if you’re already cheating on your wife with Therese Ziemann.

Because Therese Ziemann will glue your penis to your stomach while your other ladies punch you in the face and laugh.

9.5 for cold-hearted comedy, and the totally unrepentant photo of Therese Ziemann, Ace Penis-Gluer is top-shelf.

Wired calls it like it is?

The average gamer, far from being a teen, actually is a 35-year-old man who is overweight, aggressive, introverted and … often depressed.

You know it’s funny because it’s true — overweight, aggressive and introverted. No wonder he’s depressed!  If only you could quest for endorphins. Or a +12 vest of sunlight resistance.

Jim McGregor, an analyst at In-Stat, noted that his concern isn’t just with gaming but with social networks, as well.

“My issue is that it’s not just gaming. It’s social networking. It’s the Web in general,” said McGregor. “We’ve gained so much, but still it puts people in front of a computer screen for hours on end. It gives Americans just another reason to be fat, dumb and lazy.”

Move over TV, we have a new scapegoat for our fat, ignorant, lazy asses.

So, John Cleese got slapped with a brutal divorce settlement that netted out in him paying his ex enough to ensure that she’s richer than he is. He pissed and moaned last week in interviews how unfair it was, adding “At least I will know in future if a I go out with a lady they will not be after me for my money.”

Of course, despite his biterness, he kept his perspective.  As Monty Python famously sang, “Always look on the bright side of life.”  Cleese does. “I got off lightly,” he said.  ”Think what I’d have had to pay Alyce if she had contributed anything to the relationship.”

Oooooh,  burn.

He claimed he’d be “working until he was 80″ to afford it . . . and so guess who wins?  We do!

Never has one woman’s greed and antagonism done so much for so many. I’m dancing in my seat! Now nerds will have *brand new* catchphrases to use when playing D&D.

Of course, back when I used to watch Monty Python, life was harder than it is now.

Google Opt Out Feature Lets Users Protect Privacy By Moving To Remote Village

The only way this gets any better is if security is a step or two slower, and Golden Balls catches a little LA hospital-ity.

What, did he think we’re all stupid?  That the LA fans don’t know a “fuck you” move when they’re on the end of one?  The experiment is over, and he blew it.  Point in fact, he didn’t even really try, which puts the lie to his self-aggrandizing claims of “professionalism.”