New favourite

A few friends of mine were getting all hot and bothered the other day telling me who Jack White was. Jack White from the band the White Stripes. Last night I heard this, off his first solo album Blunderbuss. And then I found this guy dancing to it.

 

new favourite

Via the fellow breeder of boys Gourmet Girlfriend:

 

Well I walk upon the river like it’s easier than land
Evil’s in my pocket and your will is in my hand
Oh, your will is in my hand

And I’ll throw it in the current that I stand upon so still
Love is all, from what I’ve heard, but my heart’s learned to kill
Oh, mine has learned to kill

Oh, I said I could rise
From the harness of our goals
Here come the tears
But like always, I let them go
Just let them go

And now spikes will keep on falling from the heavens to the floor
The future was our skin and now we don’t dream anymore
No, we don’t dream anymore

Like a house made from spider webs and the clouds rolling in
I bet this mighty river’s both my savior and my sin
Oh, my savior and my sin

Oh, I said I could rise
From the harness of our goals
Here come the tears
But like always, I let them go
Just let them go

Well I walk upon the river like it’s easier than land
Evil’s in my pocket and your strength is in my hand
Your strength is in my hand

And I’ll throw you in the current that I stand upon so still
Love is all, from what I’ve heard, but my heart’s learned to kill
Oh, mine has learned to kill

Oh, I said I could rise
From the harness of our goals
Here come the tears
But like always, I let them go
Just let them go

 

New Favourite

I’m the queen of nothing, I’m the king of the world.

New favourite

I watched the Spike Jonze documentary on Maurice Sendak yesterday. Perhaps not the best idea following a car accident or perhaps it was. Regardless I can not urge you all to seek it out and watch it. Just remarkable.

Onward.

The week that was

So my role as a walking community service announcement is well established. This only serves to confirm it:

 

 

Divine on Salada crackers or on fresh white bread with butter and the whipped peanutty goodness. Even better on toast. With butter. And yes, American and Canadian friends, we have only JUST got whipped peanut butter on our supermarket shelves. Shut.Up.

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I first saw the following a few weeks back but I freaking adore it and it keeps popping into my head and making me smile. Nothing wrong with that I say. Your handsome arsed Grandfather had one blade AND polio. Looking good popop!

I’m no Vanderbuilt but this train makes hay. *toot toot*

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It is against my religion to post anything about cats on this blog. I wear it as a badge of honour, like the fact I have never seen Titanic or The Notebook. But this, this is fucking funny.

Your morning ennui:

I am free to go.
Yet I remain.

The white idiot writhes on his chair, begging for cheeseburgers.

I’m surrounded by morons.

The whipped cream in the bathroom is not whipped cream. 

*snicker*

*****

Who doesn’t need a magical unicorn mask? The comments are AWESOME.

*****

Awesome article – now there are gays in space. Charlie Brooker, I could kiss you.

It must be awful, being a homophobe. Having to spend all that time obsessing about what gay people might be doing with their genitals. Seeing it in your mind, over and over again, in high-definition close-up. Bravely you masturbate, to make the pictures go away, but to no avail. They’re seared onto your mental membranes. Every time you close your eyes, an imaginary gay man’s imaginary penis rises from the murk, bowing ominously in your direction, sensing your discomfort. Laughing. Mocking. Possibly even winking. How dare they, this man and his penis? How dare they do this to you?

_ – _ – _ -_

Blackbird’s Middle (son) proved this image – in all its hotness – was real

The image:

The proof:

+ + + + +

And well, this. Nothing needed except to say CHANNING TATUM IN A MOVIE ABOUT BEING A MALE STRIPPER:

As you were.

Onward.