Remember that 80s TV show Dungeons & Dragons?
It turns out that Renault’s target customer base in Brazil do, too. Presumably it was a way bigger deal over there than it was here, because this new car ad feels like it could genuinely be a trailer for a live-action reboot of the series. And now I want to watch it.
(I do have some questions, though. Like: Diana was only 14 years old when she and her friends were transported to the Realm of Dungeons and Dragons… so when did she learn to drive? Am I supposed to believe that she just rolled a natural 20 on that driving check? And where does Sheila go when she turns invisible so that Bobby doesn’t end up sitting on her transparent-lap? And how does the car’s navigation computer work: are we to believe that there’s a GNSS network in the skies above the Realm? The Internet must know!)
“Have you had a good wee day out?”
This isn’t how I behave when I’m out cycling with one of our little ‘uns in tow. But sometimes, just sometimes, when I see a solid-looking jump… I wish it could be. Honestly: our eldest would be well up for this! (And would probably be quite disappointed to sit around until the end where they reveal that, obviously, they swapped the small child for a doll for many of the shots.)
“We got all kinds of funny looking cats.” Lost it.
This epic video (which contains spoilers for Game of Thrones through the third episode of season eight The Long Night). If you’re somehow not up-to-date, you can always watch the earlier iteration, which only contains spoilers through The Spoils of War, the fourth episode of the seventh series.
And now my bedsheets smell like Jon Snow.
Now this is my kind of online gene sequencing company.
Autotuned the cat because he won’t shut up in the mornings. I don’t know how this helps but I did it anyway.
Brian and Nick are back for the first time in, like, forever. Do you remember what happened before this? It was The Faux Pas, two years ago. And before that? And before that? And before that? The short of it is that it’s been a long time since your mom’s butthole was just fine.
(5) As soon as the ceremony was over, people were directed to another area for a wine reception. I slipped away to the bathroom with @AimieRocks, who was helping with my make-up. I shaved off the beard, did my face, got into the clown suit, and pounded one of the 40oz’s.(8) I accidentally shattered a few wine glasses, but I gotta say I brought a real JOVIAL DRUNK CLOWN vibe to the whole affair, so people embraced me pretty quickly, even though I kept drinking their wine.(9) Except for Laura’s dad, who called for security to escort me out. She had to tell him that I was AN OFFICIAL MEMBER OF THE WEDDING PARTY.
Best Man ☑️
Maid of Honor ☑️
Drunk Clown ☑️(10) At some point, we must have gone into the vineyard to take those photos in the original tweet up above, but honestly I was so drunk that I don’t remember taking them.
Anyway, I told you there wasn’t much backstory. It was an awesome wedding. <end>(12) OMG okay so I guess I have to make a SECOND ADDENDUM because @AimieRocks just emailed me some more photos from the wedding. Adding them to this thread…(13) What I wore to the wedding ceremony. (That’s not my hat, that’s @AimieRocks‘s hat, I’m *not* a hat person but wearing it made me feel like Diane Keaton.) Posting these photos so you can see the beard I had before my clown transformation. I shaved that thing off SO QUICKLY.Marvin just joined twitter to tell me that’s his mom I’m hugging in the third photo in this tweet. I’M SORRY, MARVIN. But welcome to twitter. xo(17) ADDENDUM #3: @MarvinSolomon8 just texted me the name of their wedding photographer. Shoutout to SAMUEL POTTER PHOTOGRAPHY in Paso Robles. Here’s his website:
He took the three vineyard photos & obviously has a great eye. THANK YOU SAMUEL POTTER.I was at a party this afternoon and an old friend introduced me to his wife, then told her: “honey, this is the drunk clown I told you about.”
Hello, you have reached the Toddler Feelings Helpline. Please choose from the following options:
— If Mama went to the store for a minute but you are pretty sure she’s never coming back, please mash all of the keys but mostly 1.
— If you still feel pretty messed up about how they were just going to burn the Velveteen Rabbit, please mash all of the keys but mostly 2.
— If you don’t like the way your shirt is right now, please hit a sibling for no reason.
So, a shipment of crickets for the lizard arrived via FedEx today. It was my first time ordering bulk crickets off the internet, and I naively assumed that they would be in like, a bag or some other contraption to facilitate easy transfer to another container. They were not.
They were in a cardboard box. And I cut the tape and opened the box and SURPRISE! Crickets everywhere. It was the middle of the workday and I didn’t have time to deal with cricket logistics, so I put the tape back on the box.
And then I put the box in the upstairs bathroom, the only semi-contained place in the house where I knew the kids and the cats and the dogs wouldn’t be able to get at the box and tear it open and unleash 250 hungry crickets into our warm, semi-humid environment.
About 20 minutes later I’m back at work on my computer, and I hear my wife in the kitchen: “where are these goddamn crickets coming from.” I freely admit I had not kept her fully up-to-date on my cricket purchasing plans.
And at first I was like “okay, maybe one or two got out when I initially opened the box. No biggie.” I kept working.
With the benefit of hindsight, this was a mistake.
I’m trying to wrap up a story but I keep hearing cricket-related exclamations coming from the kitchen. Eventually I get up to investigate. I say, “So uh the crickets got here toda–”
“I REALIZE THAT,” she says. “WHY ARE THEY ALL OVER THE KITCHEN”
I say “That’s a good question. Let me check something.” I walk over to the bathroom. I open the door. There are crickets. Everywhere.
Crickets on the floor. Crickets on the walls. Crickets in the sink. Crickets in the toilet.
For some reason my first instinct is to flush the toilet, as if that will do anything to solve the problem of crickets in all the other places that were not the toilet. I shut the door. “Uh, don’t come in here!” I try to sound cheerful.
Apparently I had not sealed the box shut as well as I should have. I ended up rushing out to the shed, in the 18″ of snow and below zero temperatures, to pick up a spare aquarium we had. I spent about 45 minutes collecting crickets from the bathroom.
Of course by this point many had migrated elsewhere. They were in the closet. In the shoes. Making their way downstairs to the playroom. The cats were having what I can only imagine was the greatest day of their lives.
I tried to collect all of them. It was like the world’s shittiest game of Pokemon. But here we are, roughly 10 hours after the initial catastrophe, and stray crickets are still turning up in odd places.
I make this information public because if I do not send any tweets tomorrow, it is because my wife murdered me after finding a cricket in our bed in the middle of the night.
And that’s the news from Red Lake Falls.
Good afternoon everyone.
I’m pleased to report that I’m still alive, and that my marriage is still intact! You all had so much fun with this that my editor made me turn it into a story, which I present to you here, as a sort of director’s cut of this thread.
To all you monsters who demanded photos of the infestation: believe it or not, while a horde of crickets was marauding through my house I did not think to whip out my phone and start snapping pics
I mean, can you imagine?
Wife: THERE’S A CRICKET IN MY PUMPKIN PIE
Me: This is tremendous content, where’s my phone
But I’m glad you all enjoyed our suffering, we’ve been laughing our asses off at your responses all day which almost makes it all worth it. To my new followers, I look forward to disappointing you in 2019.
Speaking as somebody who’s previously managed to accidentally infest a house with crickets, I feel this guy’s pain. We tried to ignore ours, thinking that they’d die out in the winter, but instead they just huddled into the warmest, least-accessible places in the house, such as under the fireplace and the fridge-freezer, and continued their incessant chirping. It was only when we started putting down ant poison that we began to bring the plague under control.
NEW YORK — Stocks gained momentum on Monday, with the Dow Jones Industrial Average closing up 48 points, reversing losses from last week’s decline.
Experts hailed both moves as a “remarkable, textbook example of pure statistical chance,” chalking up Monday’s gains to a couple random marginal buyers being slightly more motivated than a few random marginal sellers.
“Imagine you pick 1 million random people from around the world every day,” said Toby McDade, chief investment officer of Momentum Fee Capital Management. “Some days, 51% would be in a good mood, 49% in a bad mood. The next day maybe it’s the opposite. Other days, random chance could mean 8% of people are really pissed off for no real reason. This is basically what the market is on a day-to-day basis,” he said.
Satire, obviously, but it might as well not be. I’ve long maintained that nobody, not even (and perhaps especially) economists, understand economics. It’s a fundamentally chaotic system and at best your years of training and practice on the stock market will give you the edge over a layperson; the fact that some people appear to be doing better is most-often a result of the fact that those who’ve been lucky historically are more-likely to stay in the game for long enough for you to observe how lucky they’ve been (I’m reminded of the old “tipster scam” where a scammer would send guesses as horse racing tips for free, and then to the people to whom the scammer had by chance sent good tips they’d charge for future tips, with increasing cost for the punter the more times the scammer had gotten lucky by chance).
But enough of my ranting. Go read this funny article.
“We would have been overjoyed if that many people actually turned up.”
Remember Threatin? Earlier this year, this guy and his band played a European tour to… basically nobody. He’d faked having a successful US career, record deal, etc. and persuaded a handful of session musicians to tour with him to venues to whom he’d promised that a significant number of tickets had sold in advance. And it was all a lie.
The Beeb managed to secure an interview with him and he’s now claiming that this was his plan all along. I don’t buy it, but maybe. In any case, it’s an interesting glimpse behind the curtain and into the mind of this strange, strange man.
A Louisiana woman’s unusual Christmas decorations have inadvertently ignited a beef on her street—because they’ve apparently got her boring-ass neighbors worried that she’s a member of a “demonic cult.”
Author Diana Rowland just wanted to celebrate the spirit of the holiday season by, naturally, setting up a bunch of inflatable dragons on her front yard. Of course, dragons are an appropriate and welcome addition to a lawn at any time of the year, bringing a nice Khaleesi vibe to an otherwise routine patch of grass—but one neighbor wasn’t having it.
Rowland took to Twitter last Friday to post an anonymous letter one of her dragon-hating Grinch neighbors left, calling her decorations “totally inappropriate” and laying on some very thick self-righteous trash about “the true meaning of Christmas.”
Just glorious. The real joy of this story is that after the owner of all the dragons posted online about them (and about the snotty note she’d received from her anonymous neighbour) she quickly received donations allowing her to expand her lawntop collection of the beasts, so now there’s even more of them.
Not Christmassy enough for you yet, anonymous neighbour? Perhaps she can be persuaded to, I don’t know, construct some kind of nativity scene with them or something…