Palau

Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, washed the t-shirt 23 times, threw the t-shirt in the ragbag, now I'm polishing furniture with it.

In Which I Have Some Moral Qualms and Then Say Ah, What The Hell

I came across a hilarious collection of food essays from the North Star Writers Group – hilarious for all the wrong reasons – while idly googling for a recipe today. I did think of keeping it to myself as a personal treat, so beguiling is its dreadfulness; some sample titles:

Filo: Mankind’s Ticket to the Cosmos

and

Shatter Stability With Vegetables for Breakfast

But on the other hand I did think, that like the glorious McGonagle and Daisy Ashford , such inspired awfulness should be shared with the world.

But I didn’t want to appear to be deliberately holding someone up for public ridicule, although that is in effect what I would be doing. I’m one of those British hypocrites who can’t bear to think of themself as ever being unkind, though I frequently am.

Then Martin as usual cut through my wussy introspective crap and said, look, he’s put it on the internet, he wants people to read it, it’s all subjective and the feedback he gets is the feedback he gets. Besides, only a few people read this blog anyway, it’s not a very big public.

He’s right you know.Ah, what the hell. Enjoy.

Bacon News

You know how, bam bam bam, several internet things on one topic pop up one after the other? Being as I am aware of all internet traditions, I believe it’s known as a meme. First came news of the world’s first bacon-print, bacon scented tuxedo:

a snip, or should I say a rasher, at $99.95. I’d like it in a skirt, it’d drive our cats nuts.

But to be properly recursive, you’d have to wear it while eating the porcine equivalent of the turducken, Pig-Wrapped Pig-Stuffed Pig – mmmm, bacon with bacon and bacon – or better still,
bacon jerky:

I’m drooling at the thought of lovely intense crisp smoky bacon made even more concentratedly lovely, intense, crisp and smoky… Oh, what wouldn’t I give for a doorstep bacon sandwich dripping with butter and HP sauce and a mug of builders’ tea with 3 sugars right now.

However as I’m on a totally fatfree diet (can’t digest it) a bacon binge is out of the question. It’ll have to be boiled frankfurters instead.

Sometimes life is horribly unfair.

Do It Any Way you Ivanawanna

Another last word (as if) on What Not To Wear Palin’s wardrobe. I’ve often wondered what or who inspired her style, if ‘midwestern frump circa 1995’ can be called a style. Has she hired an actual stylist, or does she choose her own clothes? Surely that array of ill-fitting, ill-chosen separates can’t be a deliberate attempt at a look, can it?

The Anchorage Daily News is the first with the fashion gossip, for once in its existence: she’s channeling Ivana Trump. It seems Palin is an Ivanawannabe of long standing :

Alaskans line up for a whiff of Ivana (April 3, 1996)

By Tom Bell / Anchorage Daily News

Published: September 2nd, 2008 01:30 PM
Last Modified: September 2nd, 2008 04:57 PM

Editor’s note:This story was originally published April 3, 1996

Sarah Palin, a commercial fisherman from Wasilla, told her husband on Tuesday she was driving to Anchorage to shop at Costco. Instead, she headed straight for Ivana.

And there, at J.C. Penney’s cosmetic department, was Ivana, the former Mrs. Donald Trump, sitting at a table next to a photograph of herself. She wore a light-colored pantsuit and pink fingernail polish. Her blonde hair was coiffed in a bouffant French twist.

”We want to see Ivana,” said Palin, who admittedly smells like salmon for a large part of the summer, ”because we are so desperate in Alaska for any semblance of glamour and culture.”

Read whole thing

I should’ve guessed – that hair was a dead giveaway. How can I have been so blind? Mind you, the actual result is more Patsy in AbFab than Ivana:

If I didn’t loathe the woman and all she stands for there’d be one line in that report that’d actually make me feel some sympathy for her; it’s that she then “admittedly smells like salmon for a large part of the summer”.

I can see how a girl from the remote provinces starved of glamour and nice things and mostly smelling of fish might be tempted to go on the rampage when given the run of the nation’s fancy department stores on someone elses dime – I’d be tempted too. However one would hope a potential President really would be able to resist that sort of thing.

One would hope too that in clothing terms – and clothes do send a message – a potential president, male or female, would have the minimum aesthetic sensibility to go for plain, smart and serviceable in colours that suit, and leave it that.

But Palin has gone the whole ’90s soap opera diva playing a politician hog; red leather jacket, bouffant hair, stripes of vivid brick or rose blusher down her cheeks, a tattooed lip outline… and for this she reportedly paid $13,200 to a top make up artist? Well I say she, but obviously it was the voters that donated the $13,200 who paid. Bigger fools them.

I had once thought that Palin’s clothes were a clever stylist’s strategy of identifying with women of a certain age bracket, income stream and lack of fashion interest, a way of appealing to the base. Then I found out that these outfits are what she personally chose and that, rather than the JC Penney’s bargain bin finds they look like, they’re actually stupidly expensive. This convinces me like nothing else can – because sometimes I am very shallow – that the woman’s unfit to be in office. She has no taste and no sense of appropriateness of any kind in anything, from clothes to morals.

Worse than that, as even her wardrobe proves, she’s never had an original thought in her life; her entire schtick from her views to her speeches is all bit and bobs cut and pasted from here and there and cobbled together. You could have some respect for the consistency of a complete yahoo, but she’s not even that.

And While We’re On The Subject…

..of shit Murdoch journos; however did Daniel Finkelstein, the Times’ supposedly premier political commentator, get away with a blogpost like this?

What the economic crisis will do to Playboy models

Lavishly illustrated, of course, with photos of said bunnies in costumes ranging from bits of strategically placed pink fur to a corset and vertiginous heels.

Why? I can only suppose it’s because Finkelstein thinks politics is serious, man’s business. Ladies, know your place!

Carry On Up Corfu

Headline to an article in today’s Times, by one Suzy Jagger, describing Nat Rothschild’s witness against Tory Shadow Chancellor George Osborne, in the story of rich blokes carving up the world between themselves while swanning around on a big boat on the med that’s rapidly becoming known as 3 poofs and a Piano-gate Yacht-gate Carry On Up Corfu, or at least it is by me.

A witness with impeccable Wall Street credentials.

Wahahaha. ‘Impeccable Wall St credentials.’ Ms Jagger, you slay me.