learningcurve

Perhaps this is the best interpretation, if you will, of the whole Islamic-Danish imbroglio, cross-referenced with the Abdur Rahman apostasy event, that I've seen to date, though admittedly it is dated and the subject(s) of the comment were other thuggish men with other thuggish agendas some generations ago . . .

"You see these dictators on their pedestals, surrounded by the bayonets of their soldiers...
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My Vasques seem to have died their third, and probably final, death, with a recurring left outer heel seperation that I do not think yet another resoling can fix. Not a bad run, really, with a pair of boots bought in 1997 and used roughly and heavily, staying in the fight for almost a decade and what must be about a million miles of recreational...
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Very little of excitement to note of late.

I spent entirely too much money this month, in a creeping and incremental sort of way, on things which I don't really, really need (for which, read: guns, or, more specifically a wildly cool 6.8mm AR that's been on my to-do list for quite some time . . .). I suppose in the long run it will...
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St Patricks Day for the Beginners:

1) Obtain copy of better offerings from the Pogues. I recommend Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash, though various others will do nicely.

2) Add in something by the Dropkick Murphys to keep things on the up and up. Gang's All Here works wonders, though Blackout may be my current favorite.

3) Obtain a decently prodigious supply of Guinness...
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What's the old line about people living lives of quiet desperation? Hmmm . . . maybe that is the line.

Having recently discovered that the three cats I raised from kittens so small they could fit into the palm of my hand have all died, I must say I'm somewhere in a quiet desperation phase. Or maybe I just feel like I've been kicked. Or...
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And another month of insanity comes to a timely close, mountains of bullets fired, many a wooden door blown to bits, and all that, with no one entirely too mangled or maimed in the process (+/- a broken hand from an excess of enthusiasm and deficit of aim when using a ram on a contrary door . . .).

Now for some much deserved rest...
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Damn iPod is insane. My modest 2 gig Nano, intended purely for jogging entertainment, has an equally modest 250 songs on it and it is not even half full yet. I'm running out of songs I could possibly want to hear while sweating, hurting, and hating life . . .

Christmas was pleasant enough, some fun kit including the delightful iPod Nano passing into my hands from family and friends. (And some fun stuff passing from my hands to them . . .)

Now I get to enjoy a week off from work before getting back into the grind. Not a thing to complain about concerning that.

The Christmas season rolls round again, prompting one's mind (well, mine at any rate) to turn to the Pogues, Kirsty MacColl, and the incomparable "Fairytale of New York." Lyrical, pretty, and describing a train wreck of a relationship in mid-explosion it is priceless.

And includes one of my favorite bits o' lyrics ever:

Guy: "I could have been someone"
Girl: "Well so could anyone."

The...
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An illicit free weekend. Kick ass.