No wait. Smoked like 1975 Ford Pinto hit from behind.
No wait, wait. Smoked like an Inuit fish during salmon season.
No wait, wait, wait, I got this, I got this, wait. Smoked like a skyscraper in the video for Disco Inferno.
No wait. Smoked like Bikini Atoll.
As you watch this you would do well to remember that Mr. Blitzer is among the brightest of the dim-bulbed Establishment Media.Burn!
Now, Wolf Blitzer, tell how how Trump is an idiot.
Then DC Whispers posts an SNL spoof from a time before SNL went where CNN lives, and says there's hardly a discernible difference.
Then DC Whispers posts an SNL spoof from a time before SNL went where CNN lives, and says there's hardly a discernible difference.
This reminds me of an old game called Trivial Pursuit, or maybe just Trivia. It was a board game I played one time. The board just slows down the whole game and the rules are stupid and limiting. The whole idea of the game was to maximize the utility of the cards with questions divided into categories. Right there, the cards are finite source of questions. To make the game last over time it has to be slowed down. Way down. That's the point of the board and moving pieces around. Much slower than the game Jeopardy.
So there I was at a table surrounded by my friends, all following the rules and having a great time. Except one person. The loveliest person of all away from the game was the one guy who wanted more rules to apply to this particular group of players. He couldn't play without more rules. The question cannot be read sarcastically if it is an obvious question. No hints can be given by the way the questions are read. This guy, such a sweetheart otherwise, became dictatorially insistent about people talking to each other, facial expressions, lifting an eyebrow, tone of voice, enunciation, speed of reading, players shutting up while a question is read, and so on, he positively drained every ounce of fun that would be possible for the game to facilitate. He didn't get the whole point of the game was to have fun. NO FUN ALLOWED! His behavior was a real eye-opener. I couldn't believe what I seeing; this Prince Charming Disney character turned into a total creep by game competition demanding more layered rules than official rules of the game. What a disappointment.
Later, I go, "How did you know that Camptown racetrack is five miles long?"
Seemed awfully obscure. And he's not sports oriented.
He goes, "Doo, dah, doo dah."
I'm all, "How does that answer my question?"
"It's the words of the song."
"Oh. I only ever knew the doo dah words."
All I ever heard from Foghorn Leghorn was, "nyuck nyuck nyuck nyuck NYUCK nyuck nyuck doo dah, doo dah."
So after that, screw the board game. Just play the cards. Go through the stack of cards for each category and read all the questions on each card until the cards are exhausted. Blurt out. That's the name of our game. Whoever blurts out the most answers wins the admiration of our peers. No rules. Just blurt.
And I was surprised to discover the woman who knew the most random answers is a dumpy unkempt unmade up leather-wearing motorcycle riding Lucky Strikes rolled up in her white t-shirt sleeve lesbian woman who lived near me. And from then on I'd walk over to her house and rip through NYT crossword puzzles at top speed. She was never stumped. Never. There wasn't anything she didn't know.
Except how to spell Bahrain. I had to prove to her it's spelled Bah + rain. That was the one thing she got wrong. I only knew it because I had been reading a Bahraini website and I was struck with how educated and how polite they all were.
4 comments:
Part of the problem with Jeopardy is you not only have to be smart, you have to be quick on the trigger.
So, how did Wolf do with the $1000 that they spotted him in Final Jeopardy?
In line with other doo-dah, what about the bob-tailed nag?
... for some reason, the British cavalry in the 1800’s decided their horses were better off with their tails cut short.
Of course, it all stemmed from the soon-to-be outlawed practices of ‘Nicking’ and Docking’; the former the old practice of cutting the muscle beneath the tail so it was naturally carried artificially high, and the latter removing a section of the dock (tail bones) so the tail grew short. Both these operations were intended to make the horse look ‘smart’, and the only thing that can be said in their favour is that they helped keep the horse’s tail free of mud, that constant companion of the horse-keeper in the years before metalled roads became widespread.
So imagine what it was like for horses in Spain and Portugal with short tails. They must have been driven to distraction by the biting insects which plagued vast swathes in the interiors of those countries, especially during the hot summer. Okay – it was easier to distinguish between French (long-tailed horses) and British (short tailed) cavalry in the early years of the war, but eventually even Horse Guards decreed some regiments ride horses with un-cut tails, whilst others were bob-tailed. And many cavalry officers, who were required to provide their own mounts, were sensible enough to leave their horse’s tails in their natural state as efficient fly-whisks.
In the end there was such a mix that the length of a horse’s tail was insufficient evidence to differentiate friend from foe at a distance.
Appearance over practicality, eh? And it was the same with Hussar uniforms. But don’t get me started on those… from the cavalrytales blog, Jonathan Hopkins on British Cavalry in the 19th Century and other jottings
Cuirassiers' and uhlans' uniforms were similarly affected.
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