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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo has no greater ambition this fine Friday morning than to toddle down the street and finally get his overdue car safety inspection dealt with. While I’m waiting for the tail end of rush hour to clear up, how about a little of this and that?

♦  Ol’ Robbo loves how the marriage-speak sentence “We need to do X” actually translates into “You need to do X”.  (The only possible response, of course, is “Yes, Dear.” They hate that.)

♦  Speaking of domestic irritants, Eldest has long had the most infuriating habit of taking glasses, plates, and silverware up to her room and squirreling them away in squalid post-meal heaps.  I’ve begged, I’ve threatened, I’ve shamed – she still does it.  Other than installing locks in the kitchen, I’m at a loss.

♦  Speaking of kitchens, any friends of the decanter ever tried this Beyond Meat thing?  It sounds revolting on several different levels to Ol’ Robbo.  I’ve got a work colleague, an avid vegan, with whom I’m occasionally forced to eat lunch.  The trouble is that when she’s eating, about the only thing she can talk about is her veganism, and this fake-meat thing often comes up.  She won’t come out and call me a murderer to my face for my own carnivorous preferences, but you can tell she’s thinking it.  (I just smile thinly.)

♦  Speaking of work colleagues, I’ve another one, a college history major no less, who didn’t realize yesterday was the 75th anniversary of D-Day.  **Thud**

♦  Speaking of history, Ol’ Robbo re-watched “The Death of Stalin” last evening.  I enjoy this film more and more each time I see it.  The trouble was that this time I also watched the special features commentary.  I swear the director said something about how important it was to make a film about dictatorship in the age of Trump and Brexit.  Seriously?  Wanker.

♦  And speaking of films, the other evening I also re-watched “Lost Horizon“, which I hadn’t seen since my misspent teens.  I guess Ol’ Robbo has got old and crusty, because I didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as I remembered it.  Frank Capra is, for the most part, just too gooshy for me.  (“It Happened One Night” is, of course, a notable exception.)  Think I’ll just stick to the book going forward.

Well, I suppose I had ought to be shifting and go take La Wrangler for her checkup.  Do you know, she’s sixteen years old now and I’ve still only put a little over 99K miles on her?  Reckon she’ll last me a good while longer.

UPDATE:  La Wrangler is just fine.  Seems the Great Commonwealth of Virginny has changed the inspection sticker: It used to be yellow but is now smaller and blue. What would we do without bureaucrats?

Took a walk with Eldest this afternoon to get her some pick-me-up cofevve before her evening work shift.  When I mentioned the vegan thing to her (there’s no shame in using the same materials for blogging and meatspace conversation), she rolled her eyes and started to laugh.

“Veganism is vegetarianism turned up to eleven,” she said.  “It’s its own whole level of crazy, and for some reason they simply can’t shut up about it.  Eat your pretentious goop if you like but leave me out of it, I say.”

That’s my Gel – both for the sentiment and the nifty reference!

 

 

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