No, not a rapper who’s fallen on hard times. Oddly enough, it’s a word we’re most likely to understand by contemplating its polar opposite.
Archive for Ventually
It is de rigueur to sum up the previous year, and speculate on the new one, on this first day of January. I trust you won’t mind if I fail to comply with this cultural imperative except in the most superficial sense.
One week and one day with one low-end tablet. How does it work? Pretty well, actually, but it’s not exactly the answer to anyone’s prayers.
Okay, maybe the prayers of Jeff Bezos.
In which I contemplate two young adult females, both of whom are presumably forever out of my reach. Does this bother me? Maybe, maybe not.
What can we learn from the results of a hotly-hyped automotive Ownership Satisfaction Survey? If you ask me, there are a lot of things we’re assuming that we probably ought not to assume, and there are a lot of people who simply can’t get no satisfaction.
How do you deal with adversity? I don’t deal with it well. Fortunately for me, I have friends on my side — which, it occurs to me, might be something more than mere fortune.
It would be my sixty-third, assuming I get it, and for the moment, I’m assuming that I will.
An Open Thread is proclaimed for the day.
Fifty years ago, I got into the habit of reading the news at dinnertime. It’s a habit I am loath to give up no matter how many options I am offered.
It seems so cut and dried: select the items, toss into the cart, deplete your bank account appropriately. I’m here to tell you, though, that there’s a lot more going on than meets the eye.
Back in mid-September I put up the usual link to the current Vent, and forgot to list it in the Ventually category. This has been fixed.
This is not, however, what I came to tell you about. That particular Vent — #933 — was a survey of my findings at a Tumblr blog called “Transsexual Nudists,” which so far as I could tell contained pictures of no actual trans people: all the pictures seemed to have been Photoshopped. (I later found what appeared to have been some of the originals elsewhere on Tumblr.) Hardly anyone seemed to be particularly upset about this, though: there is evidently a small core of fans who really, truly want the women of their dreams to have standard male hardware. And the character who was doing the virtual genitalia transplant at least did it with some degree of panache: one particular shot involved three unclad women, and he pasted the penis onto arguably the prettiest one.
For reasons unknown, the site was taken down this past weekend, and its archives nuked, though if I remember Tumblr operations correctly, anything from there that was reblogged elsewhere will remain reblogged.
An unusually warm October will be followed, I expect, by several months for which “unusually warm” will be a pleasant memory at best. I don’t like it, but I’ll live through it — I think. It’s not as easy as it used to be.
If we’re going to have capital punishment at all — and the way things are going, I suspect that eventually the time may come when we won’t — state government is going to have to step up its game, or at least quit screwing around with it.
He said he was trying to put his life back together. I had my doubts. And it turns out, I had good reason to.
Yes, even I can be persuaded that I doth protest too much at times.
There is the physical, and there is the mental, and some of us try to keep the two discretely, even discreetly, apart — to our eternal humiliation. Not even Frank Sinatra can help us.
“Shopping, sex, and shopping for sex,” said Penn Jillette once upon a time, “propel all new technology.” Today, gender-swapping is cumbersome and expensive; tomorrow, maybe not so much. In the meantime, there’s always Adobe Photoshop.
I have long suspected that when we set forth to calculate cost/benefit ratios, we tend to underestimate the costs and overestimate the benefits. Which is not to say that I am particularly good at playing the odds or anything.
If you suspect that this has been done before, well, you shouldn’t be surprised to learn that it’s been done again.
Revelations from a third of the way through an issue of InStyle, or how I will never, ever have any business being a fashion blogger.
How could this Presidential campaign possibly be any worse? Just try to imagine how dull it would be without Donald Trump.
Or at least you’re about to buy one, and you probably won’t like the financing options.
Nothing in life prepares you for finding a hefty chunk of tree just lying in the street on an otherwise-peaceful morning.
Well, nothing has prepared me for it, anyway.
Update: Morning wood gone by evening, so to speak.
To some extent, I sympathize with the Greeks during this, their Hour of Need; but it’s not going to go away without a whole lot of hardship. Believe me, I know.
Still, the important part of that statement was “died alone.” It’s a subject I obsess over, ever so slightly.
If the mere thought of going to the Department of Motor Vehicles fills you with existential dread, you could always move here, where you’ll only have to do that sort of thing once. Maybe.
At times, mine eyes, and maybe other organs as well, doth deceive me, and I have to assume it’s my own damn fault.
In which Mike Huckabee, perhaps despite himself, lines up behind me, a mere 19 years after the fact. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.