[ice cream farms] and the entrepeneur

If the Iceland entrepeneurs can create an ice-cream farm:

On why they decided to produce ice cream on their farm, Egilsdóttir said, “I guess we’re just a little weird.” It only took her and her husband three days to execute their idea. “If we get an idea and it makes sense, it is best to execute it immediately,” added Gudmundsson.

... then why can't we set up something like that? Maybe we already have.

[dearie me] can't see my glasses in front of my face

I tell you, it's not funny.

The other day, I was in the kitchen, my 'computer glasses' fell, I tried to stop them hitting the floor and stuck out a knee and the lenses fell out. Following this, it was a case of finding the little screw [metal] all over the kitchen every time it pinged out of the hole.

Anyway, I got the little bugger [metal] in eventually.

Well knock me down with a glass case if yesterday they didn't fall off again - in two pieces. They snapped in half.

Now I'm wondering who's got something against me writing the book and blogging 'cause I can't do either properly without 'em. Maybe they just don't like my specs.

[quick grabs] the hearts and minds follow

JPT:

I saw a Policeman walking near to where I live today and I thought 'what's he up to then?'

Nornorwester:

Which of the alternative versions of the following proverbs is true:

A) A woman's work is never done.

B) A woman's hair is never done.

A) A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single shoe shop.

B) A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single stag party.

A) If wishes were horses I’d have a palomino.

B) If wishes were horses then Gypsy Princess would have definitely won the 2.45 at Chepstow.

Bob G:

March is here

Another month shot in the ass.

Vox:

I will confess to not understanding how having read War and Peace or Madame Bovary is supposed to make one any more sexy, but otherwise, this common practice of deceit doesn't surprise me at all.

Deogolwulf, on the fallacy of chronological snobbery:

The progressive-historicism of the fallacy often betrays itself in such epithets as “medieval logic”, spoken as though an instance of logical inference could somehow be invalidated and therefore ignored merely through association with a pre-modern source.

[british police] where did the rot set in

My mate said that Scotland Yard is now recruiting thugs. There are still many career officers out there but they're gradually being pensioned off.

Some time back, the Telegraph wrote:

It is no exaggeration to say that Sir Paul takes over at a point of crisis in policing. It is in danger of slipping away from the people it is meant to serve. The middle classes who would, until fairly recently, have supported the police through thick and thin are increasingly disenchanted with what they see.

This is not entirely the fault of the police, though the activities of some senior officers, including Sir Paul's predecessor Sir Ian Blair, are partly to blame. The culpability lies predominantly with the Government and its imposition of targets on the police that actually make it less likely that they do the job most of us want to see.

I'd have described myself as basically pro-police but various incidents highlight the growing dissatisfaction with our bobbies. Mind you, they're on a hiding to nothing and have to do some unpalatable things these days. Another problem is that they have to do the dirty work for this appalling government and by 2012, may even have to fire on white, British, middle-class people who are p---ed off with what's happened.

In 2006, this blog began with the point of view that we are heading for a dystopia imposed by Them and nothing I've subsequently seen alters that view in the slightest. The difference between us is that you blame Brown and the incompetent government but I sheet it home to the Armani suited bstds behind them, predominantly living in Bavaria and Switzerland and with chapters in Scotland.

Sorry to be a bit out of sorts today.

[take this cup] and let the deadly hour pass me by

There've been some beautiful words written which fit the mood precisely.

Such a pity most of you don't read Russian because these below haunt me every time and I can't believe that Любэ did not include the song in their 'best of' collections:

Когда минуты роковые настают,
И волны чёрные до неба достают,
В недобрый час,
В недобрый час.

Помилуй, Господи, нас грешных ты спаси,
И если можно, эту чашу пронеси,
Не мимо нас,
В который раз.

Anyone who does have a smattering of Russian knows that what follows is not a translation but a rendering, as there is much which is idiomatic in the words above. In effect, the lines say:

When the deadly time, the testing time comes to you and in front of you the waves rise like a giant wall up to the heavens, this is an unpleasant hour or period of time you must live through.

Please Lord, forgive us our sins and if possible take this cup of wrath from our hands. In other words, let us escape the horror which is coming up.

That's interesting for this group to write because they'd have to have been as far removed from religion as any sinner. It goes to show that when we find ourselves in that hour where we're alone and have to go through it all by ourselves, how nice it would be to have that bitter cup lifted from our hands.

The context, by the way, in which the words were written was of troops in landing craft being ferried to the shore, presumably to be gunned down when they get there.

[one man show] the problem of the succession

How many times do we see a group, series, film franchise, monarchy or whatever languish because of just one person?

The obvious choice in the monarchical world was Henry VIII, although talent did pop up later in the form of Anne’s daughter. In music, the biggest surprise to me was how the death of Jon Bonham derailed that group when many thought it was Page and Plant that drove it.

I’ve just been reading about a group I’ve featured on this blog before – Niagara and how they ended:

Ceci se rajoute au fait que Muriel, fatiguée, déprimée et lasse, ne supporte plus la pression. Elle décide d'arrêter... Niagara n’est plus! Ainsi se conclut la brillante carrière d’un groupe ayant réussi dans tous les domaines.

This is a perfect example of a group which was not a group – it was actually a duo and when we get down to the stark reality – it was her.

At least Blondie acknowleged that Deborah Harry, whom I’m delighted to be able to claim I’ve rubbed up against in a frottagically crowded pub, was the be all and end all of that group.

Similarly, take out Ian Curtis and what’s left?

In film, would the Bond franchise still be alive without Craig? Perhaps that’s one case where the principle of ‘take out the principal and there’s no point anymore’ doesn’t apply.