Of course, it’s Iain Tyrrell talking about Aston Martin’s DB4 and DB5, and the differences thereof. Here’s the DB4:
…and the DB5:
Along the way, you’ll also learn the difference between the SU and Weber carburetors, and why the early Sixties saw cars become more reliable and less prone to breakdown than their predecessors…
…and then there’s Iain having a Gentleman’s Moment as he gets a DB4’s engine to howl.
Delightful.
Sent to me by Reader Greg S., this little pearl from Julius Malema, head of South Africa’s Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) political party:
“I’m willing to condemn murder, but not of white people.”
Fair enough; but I’m likewise willing to condemn political assassination, but not of Julius Malema.
See how that works, asshole?
In my Inbox:
[Le Deep Sigh]
As I wrote earlier: if they’re old enough to have consensual sex, to vote, to be drafted, to sign binding contracts and all that goes with being legally adults, they should be old enough to own and carry guns, kinda like the Second Amendment provides*.
As Iowans have just passed into law, and every state should follow suit.
*Okay, I know that when the Constitution was written and ratified, the legal age of majority was 21 — at least when it came to voting and getting married without parental consent. But seeing as at that time you could serve in the citizen militia at age 16, let’s not go down that rabbit-hole, shall we?
Today’s time is sufficient, and I’m fine with 18.
I keep thinking of the time when my kids were at college, had night classes and had to walk unarmed to their cars in badly-lit parking lots, forced to do so by stupid laws that forbade carrying guns on campus, and gun carry denied to them in toto because of their age.
And they were the law-abiding ones; their 50-something Dad was the lawbreaker, as he carried a gun onto campus every time he went there, despite the law.
I should point out that I also had a mental plan in the event of a campus shooter starting his bullshit if I were in a lecture or seminar: tell everyone — lecturer included — to overturn their desks and take cover behind them, while staying out of my line of fire pointing at the classroom door.
I remember telling one of my erstwhile professors this some time after I graduated, and he thanked me.
Never having watched a single minute of the old Baywatch TV program, I have been blissfully unaware of the existence of Brook Burns. My loss.
Yummy, if a tad skinny.
…at least to me, it is.
Nineties anthem from iconic rock band is crowned the best British song of all time
and here it is: Live Forever (Oasis)
Okay, I admit that I’m not the best one to judge this poll-driven decision, especially as I couldn’t hum or whistle any Oasis song with a gun pointed at my head.
But I would humbly suggest that this silly, simplistic song isn’t only not the best British song of all time, but it doesn’t even come close to songs like, oh, the Beatles’ Hey Jude or for that matter The White Cliffs Of Dover or Keep The Home Fires Burning, to name but three that predate Oasis’ jangling, annoying ditty.
This is why all GOAT (Greatest Of All Time) comparisons are irretrievably flawed: different eras breed different greats, and if we’re even going to compare a nondescript song of thirty-odd years ago with songs that have emerged since then, I’d also suggest that Live Forever doesn’t match up to Adele’s Rolling In The Deep, which sold over twenty million singles (and which I don’t especially care for, either).
Pointless nonsense. I’m kinda sorry I even took any notice of it. Sorry.