I’ve finally started catching up with some items on my TiVo. Let’s see, there’s been several old Top Gear episodes. As you know, I love Top Gear but, watching the early ones, from like season two and three is really a bit odd.
For starters, well, Richard Hammond was so young back then-he wasn’t even fully grown yet! He was actually shorter than full height and hadn’t quite reached fully-grown status.
What’s that you say? He’s still that short?
Oh, never mind that, the fashions were so different, everybody wore completely different clothing back then. James May wore these now horribly out of fashion stripey jumpers that were just hideous to look at and oh so dated.
What’s that you say? He still wears them? The same jumpers with purple stripes?
Oh, never mind that, um…A Gallardo didn’t even have a stripe back then. Wow! Change like that is really radical, isn’t it? Who knew the years would take such a toll on us all?
Speaking of natural disasters (and, um, actually James May’s wardrobe) that uber annoying volcano (the name of which nobody in the civilized world can pronounce) is set to blow again. Crap! I hope everybody gets out of the way of Volcano Farfegnugen and nobody gets stuck in some un-Godly airport at 3 am wondering where oh where their little plane might be. Oh the humanity! Incoming! Look out for low flying ash. Don’t stand downwind! All the usual warnings still apply so please do be careful out there.
And, speaking of “humanity” and, um, the BIG volcano (not to mention James May’s wardrobe) there’s video out on the Intertubes of none other than James May himself driving up the side of Volcano OhCrapWeCantSayItSoWhyBotherTryingToSpellIt. He rode up there in a specialized vehicle that has stuff like hoses to cool the tires, or somehow keep them from burning up in all the hot melted rock. I’m sure at least one “Look out for that Lava!” is in order, but we’re left with a big unanswered question. I mean, of all the people, all the staff Top Gear must have by now, why send James May up the volcano? Don’t the folks at Top Gear know that local customs usually dictate virgins get thrown *into* volcanoes? I mean, a trek like that is starting to sound really dangerous to me.
So, if you’re reading this, out there in Volcano InsertNameHere-land, James, please do be careful. And, no, those centerfolds of Gallardo’s with stripes don’t count (at least not as far as I know) you actually have to, ahem, “do the nasty” and we don’t mean using a tailpipe (well, not the kind of tailpipe you’re used to playing with anyway.) At least James is somewhat at home in Iceland, since he knows something about the beer there.
And, in other good news, those good folks who make Icelandic beer can now, ahem, “borrow” that oh-so-clever slogan from the Hawaiian beer makers: “A mountain of brews from the mountain that spews.” Don’t laugh, it’s way better than: “It’s the bees knees” in oh-so-many ways. Not to mention entirely apropos given the state of the fresh rock out there. (Though I’ve said it before, it does bear repeating. When it comes to rock, age or, more specifically, “old” is really a very good thing. That shiny newfangled stuff is just not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me on this one-we all should take our rock at least a few thousand years old, anything younger is just so uncivilized in more ways than I care to discuss in mixed company.)
Speaking of natural disasters, things British, and, um, unfortunate spewing, the oil slick in the Gulf is still going. No word on when BP will have it licked but the good folks at BP are trying just about anything, and we do mean *anything* in order to stop it. Chase went to the dog groomers this week, to get his annual summer shave, and we were told hair (clippings) would go to “help the cause in the Gulf.” Yes, you read that right, they are going to attack this giant leak with hair clippings, golf balls, all sorts of junk in an attempt at stopping it. There was even a plan to float a giant “mat” or sponge-like device, in an attempt at sucking up the oil. Seriously, I’m not making this up. It’s so crazy yet, somehow, I find myself reminiscing for the old Seinfeld days-you know the episode I’m talking about here. Yes, it’s true, snowflakes, the Gulf, or so it would appear, is now “sponge-worthy.” Who knew? A sponge! What’s next? Are they going to Swiffer it out with a giant duster or maybe try one of those Magic Erasers “rub” devices? Maybe Calgon can just take it away? Oh good grief! (Who knew it would take an oil spill to make the industrial-sized dust bunnies, and other odd assorted cruft hiding in the corners of my home, look harmless?)
I felt so inspired after reading Mythopolis’s blog post about the slick in the Gulf, that I had to write some poetry for the cause. (Hey, it’s the least I can do, I mean, I’m too lazy to get a haircut, right?)
I call this one Ode to the Oil Spill:
Oh, oil slick, oil slick you are so large
You’re even larger than a big huge barge
Onward to Texas you inch oh so near
Gosh, I hope you know how to steer!
Hey, suck that up. All that and tomorrow’s Monday too. So how was your weekend?
Until next time…