Check out this awesome pulp magazine cover illustration over at Kathy Shaidle’s. (It’s in regards to this the-apple-doesn’t-fall-far-from-the-tree story, by the way.)
I think the knife-wielding monkeys are a nice touch. Everything is better with monkeys.
(Second link via Tim Blair.)
Update: the wackos over at Ace of Spades finally got onto this. What took you so long, boys?
Okay, the position at Walmart that I’m slated for is garden cashier (that’s the cashier by the garden department, duh) on evenings and weekends. I’m pretty well hired, I just have to pass my drug test (and there’s no reason I shouldn’t). The pay isn’t the greatest — it looks like it will be $7.40 per hour for a max of 32 hours per week. It’s better than the zero I’ve been getting, though, and the hours of the position leave the rest of the day available for another job. However, barring a miracle I’m not going to make the March rent much less the April. I talked to my apartment manager and told her I was trying every avenue, but I’m pretty well tapped out, so I don’t know what to do except to beg for more donations! By the way, I’d like to thank the two people who (so far) have donated via Amazon — these donors are anonymous, or else I haven’t gotten the email notification from Amazon. And anyone else who has donated who hasn’t at least received a “thank you” email from me, I promise I’ll get one to you ASAP!
Oh — and it is too laugh: just as I was leaving the house for Walmart I get a phone call from someone else I applied with who knows when, and then as I am waiting for my third interview at Walmart (they run you through three supervisors for some reason) I get another call from one of the other placement agencies with a possible full-time position. So I have an interview set up for tomorrow with the first folk and my resume in with the second. Maybe, eventually, if not my ship than at least a raft will come in.
The British say “not by a long chalk,” but Americans say “not by a long shot” — the origin of which expression is also explained at the link — though what is not explained is why we use the latter expression and the British use the former. I guess it’s just one of those British vs. US things, like calling a car trunk a “boot” Over There, etc. Although “trunk” makes more sense — you can keep things in a trunk, but a boot is something you wear on your foot. Right?
I’m sure there’s an explanation, if not a reasonable one.
Well guess what — this morning I got a call from a manager at a local Walmart about interviewing for a part-time cashier position. Yes I applied and yes I’ll take it since no one seems to need me to do anything else. It’s up to 32 hours per week, he said, especially if I’m available anytime, and I am. That’s not much, but even if it’s peanuts it’s still more of a paycheck than I’m currently getting, which is exactly none.
Tomorrow’s the interview. Wish me luck.
Good grief. I just went through all my clothes, in an effort to cull the outfits and such that I don’t wear anymore, etc. I can’t believe how much clothing I’ve accumulated over the years. I threw out a bunch of clothes last year — just threw them out. I clearly should have gotten rid of more. No wonder my closet — a standard-sized walk-in with shelves on either side — was so stuffed.
And that’s not all — I have a crapload of bedding that I never use, and purchased under some kind of hellish whim. This time I’m going to try to get everything to a thrift store instead of just dumping it. I kind of miss the neighborhood I used to live in, which had several thrift stores. Oh well, now I have the car.
I have too many things update: I just counted — I’ve got (so far) eight large trashbags of mostly clothing, plus a couple of comforters and placemat sets I don’t want. Where the hell did all that come from?
Oh look, “Dirty Harry” over at Libertas is turning into a good little dhimmi. I hope he’s got plenty of black cloth so his women can make their burqas, and I hope he’s socking away 2 percent of his income for the infidel tax. I hope the multicult points he wins from this are worth it.
For a saner view, read Steve H.
Update: I suppose I’d better repeat something I stuck towards the bottom of an earlier post on this controversy over the Fitna movie. It’s this:
When are people going to get the fact that it doesn’t matter what “moderate Muslims” (if such a creature actually exists and isn’t mythical) think about anything? They have no more power than the infidel to control what Muslim terrorists think and do, and all efforts to give these “moderates” an opportunity to show some spine have mostly led to failure. Talk about preaching to the converted — I’m sure a “moderate Muslim” wants to be left alone to live his life the same as we all do. That’s nice, but it’s no help at all in any kind of war — of ideas, of guns and bombs, of anything. All this nicey-nice talk (as a ultra-liberal professor of mine used to say) does for us is make us feel warm and fuzzy, and we are already too inclined to indulge ourselves in this manner.
Chasing after the moderate Muslim unicorn with the sugarcube of Western friendship is of no use — we aren’t being threatened by moderates.
One more: of course, Ghost of a Flea has much to say. Cowardice of the West — exactly.
I’m listening to some of my old vinyl LPs on the ancient Kenwood turntable to see if it’s worth at least keeping some of them. I forgot how freaking annoying the phenomenon of skipping is. And that, children, is why God gave man the ability to improve his technology. God loves us and does not want us to be annoyed! The records are going in the dumpster, as is the record player, which is on its last legs anyway.
Oh yeah — and that “warmer sound” nonsense vinyl-philes are always jabbering about? It’s a euphemism for “muffled, muddy sound.” Digital rules.
It’s being given new life on the internet. Check this out too.
Also: take that, Earth Hour!
I cranked the a/c down to below 65 degrees (Fahrenheit, of course) to cool my menopausal self down, and I watched Doctor Who episodes on Netflix’s neat watch-’em-on-the-computer thing. Take that, light-hating bitches.
(Second link via.)