UPDATE: So far a day late, but hope obviously is a’borning. And here, as well.
MORE: Now Fidel is supposedly writing essays. That’s almost as rich as the O man’s purported radio speeches, always certified true by the hapless CIA. As if they both suddenly forgot the word "v-i-d-e-o." TIME buys it, but, hey, they’re famous for buying phony stuff.
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Posted in Scribbles, South of the Border, The War
Tagged Fidel Castro's death
The past, as the Archenemy blog says, really is another country, and here’s a new blog that will take you visiting for as long as you like. You won’t get far beyond the haunting portraits of the victims of child labor. Be sure to click on Shorpy’s Page for the poignant story of a child laborer at an Alabama coal mine.
UPDATE: Alas, it isn’t only the past: There are child miners in Kyrgyz, a former Soviet republic on China’s northwestern border, today.
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Posted in Blogosphere, Scribbles
Tagged Archenemy blog, Shorpy's blog
There may be no need. Looks like the record companies are already doing it for you:
"From the mid 1980s to now, the average loudness of CDs increased by a factor of 10, and the peaks of songs are now one-tenth of what they used to be."
Slaps, or flip flops, not only make the wearer look Asian (in Hungary they are called Vietnami papucs) but they apparently can damage your feet–in addition to exposing them to damage. That will be news to the many here (in Austin, at least) who have traded their cowboy boots for slaps almost year-round.
Via Instapundit
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Tagged flip flops, slaps, Vietnami Papucs
Miss Ellie, Mr. Boy’s more-or-less constant companion since he was four months old, is worn and tattered and her once-yellow color is now greenish gray. So much so that the "spirit animal," a stuffed elephant I sometimes call the precocious pachyderm has lately been coming apart in strategic areas. This morning I answered the cry for help and sewed part of her tail back on, the part by which she is carried about, in fact. I got a grateful hug for my efforts, though I kept thinkling while I was doing it that my maternal grandmother would not have awarded me any prizes for the thread-and-needle work. It was a little sloppy. Mr. B. didn’t notice, of course. He wanted strength, not finesse. Miss El was the gift of his maternal aunt, who was killed earlier this month in a motocycle accident.
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Posted in Mr. Boy, Rancho Roly Poly, Scribbles
Tagged Miss Ellie, sewing, the precocious pachyderm
Clayton Moore is welcome to the title he guarded so assiduously until his death in 1999. I still remember the outfit I got for Christmas when I was in second grade, especially the double-holster set with those faux pearl-handled, long-barrel .45s. Cap pistols, of course. I don’t think you can even buy those things anymore. (Well, maybe you can, but they’re pricey.) My mother being from Texas–even though we were then part of my father’s Air Force career and so living in Tripoli, Libya–The Lone Ranger rig was a natural. None of this phony kickboxing stuff that television now attributes to the Texas Rangers. They are, in any case, more often detectives with accounting degrees these days than their famous incarnation: the Samurai of the Old West.
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Tagged Clayton Moore, Texas Rangers, The Lone Ranger
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 