quiz: how English are you?

Not very, it seems. Don’t tell Guido; if word gets out, he’ll never hire me! And for the love of God don’t tell Steven L: he’ll probably stick me in Gitmo “just in case.”

You are 66% English.

Getting there. You may wish to pay attention to the world around you.

“And did those feet
In ancient times,
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
In England’s pleasant pastures seen?”

Well, no, but it’s a cracking good tune.

How English are you?
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Winterpeg wimps out

Winterpeg 

There are those among you who possess the hidden knowledge, the innermost secrets of raincoasterdom.

Yes. There are those among you who know that I have lived in Winterpeg. Indeed, one of the earliest pictures of raincoaster and her sistren shows them standing atop of a snowbank. This would not be remarkable, except that the snowbank was sufficiently tall that we were at the same height as the power lines. Verily, proximity to power has long since been superceeded by becoming the power itself.

Some additional perspective: Once I fell through the crust of snow on my shortcut home from school and nearly froze to death; I was in the middle of the field for several hours, in snow up to my armpits, unable to climb out, growing increasingly weak, and the sun had long since gone down, when the Avon Lady, a figure who looms in my memory and in legend as large and as benevolent as all the saints ever invented by those heathen Catholics, heard my plaintive yelps and rescued me.

Talk about generating brand loyalty; my mother doubled her orders from that day onward.

In any case, from The Winnipeg Sun via Fark comes sad news: it appears that the current occupants of Winterpeg are perhaps more Snowbirdian than Winterpeggian in inclination, and have winterfunked it.

They have cancelled the Polar Bear Swim; it’s too damn cold.

Now, you’d think, if you were as smart as you look, that they’d know, from the fact that it’s called a Polar Bear Swim, and the fact that it is held in Winnipeg, and the fact that it is, in fact and in actuality, held in DECEMBER, that it would be a mite frosty. Indeed, if you did figure thusly, you’d be a helluva lot smarter than the students and faculty at the University of Manitoba who set this up, then bailed, despite the handy proximity of several special-occasion hot tubs, trucked in for the event.

While the fact that the temperature onsite is estimated to be -32 Celsius lends some credibility to the idea that these people can, in fact, think, still it must be said that you’d figure anybody stupid/drunk enough to sign up for this gonad-shrivelling stunt must be stupid/drunk enough to go through with it.

Even without the chill factor I can see that they have no balls.
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gentle giants: the forgotten Longhorse

Longhorse parade at Bombay

Many are the calamities which live in infamy long after the demise of the shortsighted individuals who perpetrated them. Such a nameless and forgotten myrmidon, slinking desperately into the black fog of obscurity is to blame for one of Man’s greatest losses, the unthinking extinction of the noble and magnificent Longhorse.

First immortalized in sculpture by the lost culture of the Mycenaeans, the Longhorse could well be the eldest of humanity’s allies in the struggle for civilization. Often carrying an entire family on its back, the Longhorse gave mobility to cultures which had too long been limited to the scope a man could walk in a day. Truly, the domestication and partnership of this wonderous animal was the spur to the spread of civilization itself; without the Longhorse, we might all be living in the delta of Mesopotamia, to this very day.

Wiltshire chalk horseThrough migration, conquest, crusade and exploration, the Longhorse accompanied humanity as it spread across the globe. These gentle giants supplied more than transportation: their milk nourished thousands of generations of children, its unique mineral content helping them grow strong bones, remarkably keen night vision, and an extremely sophisticated taste in music. Indeed, it has been hypothesized that the rise of disco and the career of Vanilla Ice would have been impossible, had present generations not come to maturity lacking this greatest of all dietary supplements.

The Longhorse successfully made the journey to the New World, thriving on the sweet grass of the prairies, but alas, the great herds of wild Longhorses that our ancestors knew, so vast that they sported names such as The Buckskin River, The Chestnut Forest, The Lake of Limos (the Limousine was a French breed of Longhorse) and The Ocean of Woodys, were destined for an unfortunate end.

Longhorse in the American South

It was in the great belching industrial cauldron that was Detroit of the early 20th Century that a man, a small man, a nameless man, a bureaucrat, proposed a plan that will live in infamy as long as racial memory and God grant. Realizing that the Longhorse was, at the time, the greatest threat to the newly-invented market for the motor car, this unnameable creature proposed a horrible bounty.

Longhorse in the CavalryTo show off the power of his latest invention, Ford had pitted the contraption against two draft horses in a pulling contest, and the iron horse won. The sinister proposal which the bureaucrat put forth was nothing short of pure evil marketing genius: he suggested the first trade-in.

Two Longhorses could be exchanged for one of the new mechanical devices, called a Deux Chevaux Longues, or a Douche-o for short. A mania gripped the nation as formerly humble, working-class people blithely traded away their truest allies in a mad rush for mere fashionable machinery. The unfortunate castoffs were ground up and turned into luncheon meat. Within two decades, there was not a Longhorse left in the Northern Hemisphere, and only rumours and the bitter wind of memory on the great Pampas.

Recently, BoingBoing has featured the archival collection of esteemed Longhorse photographer Hardy Burmeier, from which we bring you these glorious images. Sadly, without so much as DNA from which to work, it is doubtful that even the greatest minds of science will be able to resurrect Man’s greatest partner and the bearer and consort of history, the noble Longhorse.

Donations in the Longhorse‘s memory may be made to the raincoaster fund, care of the blogmistress. See email for complete details, some restrictions may apply, only you can prevent forest fires.

The sky's the limit!

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the 12 days of Christmas, Indian edition

I love Canadian multiculturalism; it lets you make fun of everybody, including those who pay for your social life (inside joke). Say hello to Indian boy band sensation Boymongoose.

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how cocaine is produced

The subtitles while the coke peasants at lunch are the most interesting part of this fascinating video from Defamer (unless you actually use coke, in which case the whole thing is a paranoid can’t-tear-yourself-away fantasy trainwreck; I wonder how many OCD-related suicides will result from viewing this video).

“Do you do drugs?”
[laughter] “No, the guerrillas don’t allow it.”

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