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Legendary actress Lauren Bacall has passed away from a stroke. She was 89.
Robin Williams was found dead. He was 63.
Gun control advocate and former Reagan press secretary died Monday at the age of 73.
ZURICH - Blues musician Johnny Winter is dead at age 70, according to Zurich police. Although no foul…
This month has been a hell of a doozie for Casa de Aggie. Mortality has hit very close to home, and it keeps knocking incessantly.
I’m getting a bit tired of the Grim.
But circumstances have forced me to look beyond the now and into the future.
So yes, I am making an addendum to my will. A funeral is fine, but afterwards I want a party to be thrown where there is BBQ and cake and chocolate and beer and plenty of laughter and dancing. I want people to make fun of me and enjoy remembering the idiot I was. They can do their grieving in private, but they have to rejoice in public, in true Aggie spirit.
And how do y’all plan to shuffle off?
I have been rather impressed with the amount of TV fare out there centering on survivalist skills and preparing for the End Times™. I also had no idea his name was Bear Grillis. Anyway, lately the family has been talking about stuff like making our own stone oven, and digging wells. And one thing lead to another, and now we are packing BOBs.
Click to embiggenify.
So, my friends, what else would you place in the bag? Besides duct tape and WD-40™, I mean
Some of you are commenting on the pic once you embiggenify. If you could also comment at the post, that would be great
I love old movies. There was a certain gallantry and finesse to them, no matter what the genre. It didn’t matter if it was Sink the Bismarck or Destry Rides Again or even Glen or Glenda. The celluloid was magical. It helped to suspend the disbelief, and give my imagination a new venue in which to flourish.
No, not with Glen or Glenda. I have my limits.
Anyway, a few days ago, I watched one of the newer “Fill-in-the-blank of the Dead”s. The idea behind it was to scare the ever living crap out of people, but I was just disgusted. All it was, was gore. I see enough of that on the Discovery Channel™. If a filmmaker wishes to scare people, he should think about the psyche, not the butcher’s table. To this day, Psycho is one of the scariest films ever made, in my humble opinion. Hell, Alfred Hitchcock knew the psyche very well. He tormented Tippy Hedren on and off the screen to the point of ruining her life! I will never watch The Birds again. And don’t get me started on Rebecca.
That’s not to say I don’t appreciate bloody scenes. My favorite director when it comes to spraying blood everywhere has to be Akira Kurosawa. The blood spurting from the decapitated bodies in Ran was cinematic artistry.
And how do you like your scary movies??
Tonight is that awards show of awards shows, the Academy Awards. This is the award given to those who their peers consider as having delivered the performance of a lifetime, or rather the previous ten months, really.
Fred Astaire never won.
Marilyn Monroe never won.
Peter O’Toole never won.
Cary Grant never won.
Some may have received the Lifetime Achievement Award for “sticking around long enough”. But they never won a competitive award. And that’s what counts to those myopic, fishbowl-living, Brown Derby-styling celebutardic actors. Frankly, I like to call it the Meyer Awards. Let’s face it: it’s a bunch of weenies full of bologna.
It’s too bad I gave up booze for Lent. It would have been a nice drinking game every time someone brought up some libtardic talking point in their winning speech
I’m sorry I skipped the OT yesterday, but that article which I didn’t link from GQ was too good to pass up. Today’s open thread topic?
What are your plans for the weekend??
I have guests, and I’m also hosting Draco for a while, so my plans are homebound for the most part.
Anyone doing something out of the ordinary or exciting? Or are y’all just going to switch on ESPN and hope some sport is on during the dearth of July??
Because it’s Friday the 13th!!
I’m not a superstitious person by any stretch. I do have my *ahem* cautions, though. But they have more to do with common sense than with superstition. For example, I won’t go into an abandoned building, not because of the fear of Jason wanting to try out his new Henkels™ knife, but because I don’t want the place falling down on me. I like black cats, I have no problem walking under a ladder, I have broken my share of mirrors, and I do believe I have opened umbrellas inside the house. On top of that, I have stepped on cracks and my mother’s back is as strong as ever.
I do wonder if my kids have stepped on cracks, though, because my back sure is screwed up.
Are there any superstitions that y’all observe out of habit? Or perhaps out of fear??
Age has an advantage, but then again, gingers have no souls.
Seriously, don’t y’all think that would be epic???
I guess my grandfather teaching me how to gut and pit a pig for a spit will come in handy.
Who knew, right??
Have a great Sunday!!
I swear, sometimes it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed. Last night I went to bed rather late, since Eldest was practicing her Parade and March stuff for ROTC in the kitchen, and right as I fell asleep I got an anxiety attack, so I laid in bed waiting for an hour for it to subside, thinking stupid existentialistic crap that probably solved the world’s problems, but I promptly forgot after dreaming about narwhals. Why narwhals? Because Eldest had been talking about them a couple of days ago. Shit like that just lies in wait to assault my REMs.
This morning I got up, and tripped over the little dog as I made my way with one eye open to the coffeemaker. You would think I could not screw that up, right? But noooo…. instead of creamer I poured lemon juice into my cup of coffee, not looking because A) the bottles are similar in color and size, and 2) the dog was barking to be let out. I’m hiding the bottle of lemon juice in the back of the fridge from now on.
So, I have my second cup with creamer, just in time to Skype with Hubby. YAY!! So, we talk about stuff going on over there and soon enough we are all, “Oh I miss you honey!” and “I miss you too!” and then we talk of how some stuff over there is so weird and suddenly for no reason I say:
I know! I just don’t understand why they (Muslims) would want 72 virgins. I mean, that just doesn’t make sense to me. I would rather have 72 hookers. They would know what they are doing, right?
And Hubby just looks at me with a lot of pity, because that part of the conversation had absolutely nothing to do why we miss each other. Or maybe it did, and I missed it. All I know is that today is a three pot of coffee day and I am soooo going to have a nap.