petard-hoisting in our time: the Yard arrests top gov’t official

Never forget 

and, apparently, using the post-paranoid age’s patented warrant-less taps and hacking provisions, which Blair‘s own government shoved down the throats of a complacent nation. Whoops, won’t do that again soon, will ya?

The Guardian has a report on the panic at #10:

Yates was the man who authorised the arrest of Ruth Turner, the rather earnest daughter of a theology professor and, more importantly, head of government relations at Number 10, on suspicion of perverting the course of justice. The move has set the government and the Metropolitan Police at war. What began with four police officers banging on the door of Turner‘s flat in Waterloo at dawn now threatens to end in a constitutional standoff, raising fundamental questions about the relationship between politicians and the law.

And more of the same, with bonus “senior government officials interfering with an investigation” here.

Downing street was plunged into a full-scale war with the police yesterday after senior officers hit back at criticism of the way the cash-for-peerages investigation is being handled.

They responded after Cabinet Minister Tessa Jowell expressed bewilderment at the manner in which Ruth Turner, Number 10’s director of devolvement relations, was arrested at home at dawn – while former Home Secretary David Blunkett accused police of ‘theatrics’. Yesterday Scotland Yard made clear its anger at what it sees as undue political pressure. Sir Chris Fox, the former president of the Association of Chief Police Officers who remains close to Scotland Yard, accused political critics of ‘scheming to discredit a very important inquiry’. Chief constables feared a potential threat to police independence, he added.

and, best of all, Iain Dale has the story about how it was the coppers hacking into the computer system at #10 which provided the smoking gun. This would, of course, have been illegal but for the shiny new surveillance measures that have been enacted since The War Against Terror began.

An independent IT expert was then sent in by detectives, with the permission of Downing Street, to look through communications records, it claimed. But the Sunday Telegraph suggested that detectives had obtained high-level permission to “hack” into the IT system remotely…

big boobies on brittle Bunny

This is the Safe For Work view. Arguably-NSFW views are over the jump, including the arguably-NSFW photo of the sculptor. If anyone knows who he is, please let me know. BoingBoing linked to a site featuring the photos, but I’m not comfortable with that site because it makes money featuring unaccredited photos of cool things that someone else obviously uploaded. Every single time I’ve checked this site, it has failed to credit the actual source, and I don’t believe (their disclaimer aside) that this is anything other than systematic and deliberate, so I’m not going to link to them.

But I will feature these pictures, because someone else took them and I’m really interested in finding out who the artist is. James, can you help? This is what they thought would be the answer.

Getting back to the topic “at hand” (*looks down at own sweater*) we present these bizarre, beautiful, yet disturbing images of sex fantasy female dolls with hugely inflated breasts. While there are other sculptures, I thought I’d go with the Playboy Bunny; so iconic, don’t you agree?

PS: she’s wearing a g-string, so technically this is SFW. So there. Phjo For whatever reason, my delete and backspace keys have suddenly stopped working. Oh, this should get interetsting real fast. Now I have to leave the big ugly Photobucket things in place and can only edit through selective use of the Insert key. Wunnerful. (ah, the CUT option works! Yay!)

In any case, here are your boobies:

Playboy SFW

 

More after the jump… Continue reading

quiz: which 19th Century horror character are you?

Nope, I woulda lost a bet. I’m actually Markheim, but nobody’s read that story!

You scored as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. You are the unfortunate changling from Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic novel, the victim of volatile emotions that violate your reputedly noble character. Through scientific experimentation, you have divided your social and primal selves into two separate physical entities, which grapple perpetually for control of your existence. Because of this tension, your life is a maelstrom of inescapable, private turmoil.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
 
71%
The Invisible Man
 
63%
The Headless Horseman
 
59%
Count Dracula
 
58%
Frankenstein’s Monster
 
58%
Dorian Gray
 
46%

What’s Your 19th Century Horror Character?
created with QuizFarm.com

the most improbable meme in the world soldiers on

Zounds!

From raincoaster to Archie…from Archie to Metro…the madness marches, tagless. Is there no end to this insanity? No abbreviation of this alliteration? Nay, not so but constant consonance.

SriusLEE, had I known Metro‘s favorite Shakespearian play was Macbeth, I’d have hesitated longer before accepting his hospitality. Truly, Lord and Lady Macbeth stand as a shining and eternal example of all that a host and hostess should not be. But I went anyway: if he’d only told me they had no gin, that woulda been a dealbreaker.

A sliver of MacMetro‘s elegant, piercing, and tearjerking, if unhyperlinked, contribution:

Is this a blogger that I see before me,
The keyboard t’wards mine hands? Ah, now I click thee.
I posted thee, and yet I see thee still,
Art thou froze, lousy server? Not sensible
To mine heart’s broken cries? Or is this but
A pausing at the node, a short delay?
Originating from the crowded cable?
I see thee yet, in form the same
As t’other window that I now do open.
Thou mock’st my labours of an hour ago,
And the environment I blog in.
Mine fingers drum upon the veneer’d desktop
But answer comes there none, I see thee still,
Thy circling logo saith “‘Tis being published”
Yet ’tis not so, I trow. There’s no such thing!
It is the fruit of hours that hath gone
From my account.

Of course, it’s his own fault for not being on WordPress.

blogging: act III, scene 1: an allegory in iambic pentameter (more or less)

NEED MORE MONKEYS

The Big Question

To blog, or not to blog: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the blogosphere to suffer
The flames and scrapings of outrageous trolls,
Or to take arms against a web of aggro
And by contacting their ISPs, end it? To ban: to delete;
No more; and by deletion to say we end
The meme-pests and the thousand spam comments
That blogs are heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To ban: to delete;
To delete: perchance to start a forum: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that Technorati void what YouTubes may rest unblogged
When we have shuffled off this blogging platform,
Must give us pause: there’s the dynamic ranking
That makes calamity of a dead URL;
For who would bear the Monty Python quotes and casino links of trolls,
The support staff’s delay, the corporate parent’s avarice,
The pangs of despised fandom, the copyright infringement enforcement,
The insolence of office workers and the spurns
That regular updating of the dilettantish LiveJournallers takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a critical keystroke? who would Farkers bear,
To grunt and sweat under flourescent lights,
But that the dread of missing a new meme,
The undiscover’d bit bucket from whose bourn
No blogmeister returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those glitches we have
Than fly to platforms that we know not of?
Thus WordPress does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of e-cool-hunting
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of doubt,
And blogs of great pith and merriment
With this regard their RSS feeds turn awry,
And lose the name of action.–Soft you now!
The fair Bloggie Awards! Nymph, in thy nominations
Be all my Top Posts remember’d.

Show me the luv at the Bloggie Awards, people!

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