Archive for June 26th, 2009

Lifestyle Supplements

You know how it is in post-Tiger Ireland. You go to a dinner party and they’re using ordinary olive oil on the placenta instead of Extra Virgin. The man of the house, who up until recently you would see in diamond-encrusted loafers down at the yacht club, is out in the garden on all fours, licking the decking and dousing himself in Steiger lager. The once perky Pekinese is slumped with its paws in the air atop the Brabantia bin, having exhausted itself in its attempts to hump the leg off the architect’s wife from up the street, his underbelly matted brown with the fake tan she’s had to resort to now. Three holidays a year in Marbella gave way to one trip a month to Chartbusters spray booths, and now that that’s gone to the wall, ever the resourceful type, she’s been draining off the excess liquid from the organic bins into a brownish paste, and started glazing her now-flabby calves (the gym membership expired some months back) with a pastry brush. What can get really galling is the one-upmanship of the whole thing. At the same dinner party, the hostess tried to make a show of her generosity. While the rest of us were struggling cheerfully with the plastic knives and forks, tucking into our (surprisingly delicious) Aldi tinned ham fritters, she grandiosely produced a garden greip and a hoe. Oh don’t mind me, I can manage, I’m afraid we can’t afford any more cutlery. Sure.

One former banker guest seemed rather perturbed and red-faced by the sniggers that accompanied the host reading aloud an Irish Times account of an unnamed former banker who had started up a ‘discrete personal service’ provided to the pets of rich old dowagers in the South Dublin area. “I don’t know how the hell she meets these people” laughed one. “Yah, it’s as if she makes it all up” laughed another. The former banker launched into a stinging disquisition on the morality of providing sexual stimuli to animals. “Imagine you were the last man on earth, lonely and ontologically redundant, with no prospect of sensual consolation from another being. Are you seriously saying that you would reject the tender advances of another creature, even if it was an 11ft praying mantis from the planet Zarg? Your bourgeois morality disgusts me.”

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Woodward And Bernstein From Beyond The Grave

Yes I know they’re not dead.

Michael Jackson: A special relationship with Ireland – Friday, 26 June 2009, News, Music & Gigs – Belfasttelegraph.co.uk

According to Californian psychic Randa Starr, the pop superstar has always been interested in Ireland because he is fascinated by fairies and leprechauns

Nice to see the Belfast Telegraph using quality sources for its reporting. Unsure what to write? Consult a psychic. But wait:

Michael Jackson’s Irish vacation, sticks Tippi Hedren with Tiger bill – Monsters and Critics September 1, 2006

According to Californian psychic Randa Starr, the pop superstar has always been interested in Ireland because he is fascinated by fairies and leprechauns

In Pursuit of Excellence

The Not-so-beautiful Game « The Enterprise Blog

For sure, there may be a number of reasons that is the case but my suspicion is that the so-called “beautiful game” is not so beautiful to American sensibilities. We like, as good small “d” democrats, our underdogs for sure but we also still expect folks in the end to get their just desert. And, in sports, that means excellence should prevail. Of course, the fact that is often not the case when it comes to soccer may be precisely the reason the sport is so popular in the countries of Latin America and Europe.

It would seem the American Enterprise Institute doesn’t get ‘soccer’. I look forward to ‘Why I Hate Golf And Its Communist Handicap System’.


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