If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
If life gives you Cornettos, pretend they’re penises and make pornart.
If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
It comes as no surprise to a cynical old fert like me that after only five days of there not being an aeroplane in the skies, the main operators have got itchy shareholders.
Despite all of the initial blah from them about how they weren’t going to put planes up in the air whilst there was the chance a piece of microscopic silica could get into the engine of a plane, it seems that despite there being no let up in Eyjafjallajoekull’s* output, and the now legendary ‘ash cloud’ still being very much lodged over the UK, it is perfectly safe to send planes up in the air.
These are planes carrying you, your relatives, your pets, your stuff.
These are planes being sent up in the sky by people on the ground in safe little offices, who just need to keep the board happy and the shareholders paid well. After all, that champagne reception later this year when the financial results are announced isn’t going to pay for itself, is it?
It’s amazing how all the fluffy PR goes out of the window when big companies start to lose money due to an “act of god”.
I wonder whether they have sympathy for the people whose travel insurance isn’t going to compensate them? I wonder how soon the “desperate” and “cash strapped” air travel industry goes to the government and asks for money to help them out?
You know what I say? I say fuck ’em. Them, and the insurance companies who would rather see people stranded or not be able to to take their vacations because of this problem.
Hopefully they’ll get theirs soon enough. You know, just like how we showed those dreadful bankers who took all that risk with money and bankrupted the country… oh, wait a minute.
*Now known as Volcano Anagram
This picture proves I was up too early this morning.
For the last few weeks and months I’ve had to put up with Sparecat bringing home mice and birds to play with.
The birds he kills and eats most of. The mice he leaves alive so they can run around my house, eat my stuff, play Wii, etc etc.
I have traps. Many, many traps. Oh yes.
I have 3 “lethal” SNAP-traps, and one “humane” when you go to let them out they’ve dehydrated/panicked/heart-attacked and died anyway trap.
The mouse Sparecat brought me last time turned out to be a canny wee bugger.
I set the LETHALEST trap with some chocolate on it: It stole the chocolate and escaped.
I set the LETHALEST trap on EXTRA SENSITIVE with some chocolate on it: it stole the chocolate and escaped.
I set the COMEDY BREATHE ON IT AND IT SNAPS trap with some peanut butter and Nutella, figuring it would have to interact with the trap mechanism to lick the luxury-but-deadly mixture. It licked the trapping mechansim and escaped.
I set the COMEDY BREATHE ON IT AND IT SNAPS trap with some doughnut put right at the back of the trapping mechanism. That was gone in 5 minutes: no kill.
Last night I set the HUMANE trap with Nutella and doughnut.
When I came down this morning, the trap was… gone.
Oh yes. Gone. There is nothing more spooky than a mousetrap suddenly not being where you left it. Especially one where the mouse is meant to be trapped inside and unable to interact with the outside world. A quick search of the kitchen and I found the trap under the kitchen chair on its side. A shake of the trap revealed there to be no mouse inside. However, an inspection of the insides revealed evidence that the mouse had previously been trapped.
The suspicion fell upon the cat. Oh yes I thought. Suddenly last night he had turned into kiddie on Christmas morning: I’d presented him with a fun present, neatly wrapped.
I figured the damned useless animal had let the mouse out and it was once more running free around my house. I even scalded him before his breakfast for looking so proud when I showed him the trap.
And then I went into the front room.
There, very neatly on the carpet, was a mouse-sized liver.
Off to the pub to make detailed scientific studies.