Not here. Here. I’m far too lazy to run polls!
Here, via Fark, are a few samples from The Funniest‘s thread of the funniest images on the Internet. There are some old standbys like the Jedi Squirrels, which was a top post on WordPress for at least a month, but there are also some fun new ones, such as these which I have heartlessly ripped off to give you a taste of the delights which await you in the original thread here.
And with the best chest, if you ask me.
In the realm of carnal beauty there is no shortage of icons. From Helen of Troy to Brigitte Bardot to Carmen Electra, the competition has always been brutal and the loser taken hindmost…or, wait…you know what I mean.
At the very pinnacle of sexual desirability are the Bond Girls. From the blonde, slinky Honey Ryder to the brunette, slinky Vesper Lynd, Bond Girls have always been seen as the very definition of female hotness, driving men cooler than Bond into raging hormone frenzies and irrationally long wait times at NetFlix. Their faces and bodies have launched a million suavetés, convincing Red State palookas and sub-Arctic lumberjacks alike that all they need to do is look good in the monkey suit and drink Martinis and the ladies will come swarming.
And we will, you know.
I was at the Urban Mixer West End Martini Tour, along with a hundred perfect, and perfectly friendly, strangers, and quite a variety of garb was on display; we had some people in jeans, we had many in suits and cocktail dresses, and we had one man in a tuxedo.
And he was surrounded by women, all night. Are you taking notes, boys?
For the record, my Bond Girl name is Faith Mountain. Dayum, I could do better than that; lessee, um, uh, well, how about Jeanine Tonique? Butter Tartt? Pandora Box?
In any case, I ran across this on the Guardian site, and it’s one of the funniest things I’ve read in ages. As always with Jeanette Winterson, I’m not sure I agree but I do enjoy. It’s well-written, it’s witty, and it is very well-informed. The research must have been gruelling, poor thing.
And as anyone ’round these parts could tell you, if you want an honest evaluation of girls, ask a lesbian.
My mission, and I chose to accept it, was to watch Bond movies and summon up some firepower on the Bond women. I could gun down the pathetic sexism of early Bond, or the patronising raised eyebrow of mid-Bond, and we could detonate the tortured hero of Brosnan Bond, and, guess what? I will. But first, let’s agree that Bond movies are fabulous fun.
I don’t know which I enjoy more – the cars or the girls. I didn’t buy my 3-litre BMW because I saw Goldeneye, but I was very upset when Bond got the Z8 in The World Is Not Enough. Why? I can’t afford to spend £80,000 on a car, even though I long for a champagne cooler under the handbrake. Driving round Cheltenham without one is a mini-roundabout too far. If I knew there was a Dom Perignon ’53 ready to drink on touchdown in the multistorey car park, I would feel less like machine-gunning Burger King, as I pass it for the 20th time in a traffic labyrinth that could have been devised by Dr No…
Proof positive that if you can shake it like that in skimpy sequins, it doesn’t matter how badly you sing. But I love her anyway.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie,
Battening on huge seaworms in his sleep;
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
And here we at the ol’ raincoaster blog thought we were the only ones who were on this Cthulhu thing around WordPress. Live and learn, and point and gibber in helpless panic at the ultrasound from sobek’s Innocent Bystanders blog.
There are other signs.
This came via Fark, as we have always known news of the End Days would arrive. Pass the whiskey. I have no intention of dying sober.
Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn
WELLINGTON, New Zealand (AP) — A new volcanic island has risen from the South Pacific near Tonga, according to reports from two vessels that passed the area.
The crew of the Maiken, a yacht that left the northern Tongan islands group of Vava’u in August, reported on their Web log on August 12 that they saw streaks of light, porous pumice stone floating in the water — then “sailed into a vast, many-miles-wide belt of densely packed pumice.”
They posted photos of huge “pumice rafts” that they encountered after passing Tonga’s Late island while sailing toward Fiji.
“We were so fascinated and busy taking pictures that we plowed a couple of hundred meters into this surreal floating stone field before we realized that we had to turn back,” wrote a crewman identified only as Haken.
The next day they spotted an active volcanic island, Haken wrote.
He said they could see the volcanic island clearly. “One mile in diameter and with four peaks and a central crater smoking with steam and once in a while an outburst high in the sky with lava and ashes. I think we’re the first ones out here,” he reported.
Oh no, far from it. But Johansen can no longer speak; he no longer has that which could serve as a tongue, nor that which could string together thoughts enough to guide it. God has been merciful to Johansen; may he be so to us as well.
Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn
“Cheese is made from milk. Cheese is made from milk.”
and this was stolen from Defamer, just like yesterday’s pic.
raincoaster 