The presbyterian outlook

No posts for a while. Nothing to say, grumpy, etc etc. But here is a clip I thought I would look out for a little Tuesday amusement. Enjoy.

No, I think this calls for another soundtrack

Oh Sharon, you goddess!

What next, Annie Whittle?

The message bears repeating

I can't remember if I have posted this before, but I needed a post work cheer up/ ritual cleansing from shelf checks, shelving and stocktakes. So boring. So now, for something completely different. This one goes out to all youse other people in mundane and meaningless jobs:



Ahhh, taking things out of context. I hope none of you see me grooving my way up the hill, fists clenched and hips gyrating to an internal soundtrack of DM.

Oh ha ha ha

I have been on another CD uploading stint, and I felt like I needed Vault by Def Leppard at 320 Kbps. So, plug the cd in and wait for the internet to provide the track listing. I had a quick glance over and all seemed in order. All was in order until I noticed the genre the album had been placed in: Metal. In what alternate universe is Def Leppard metal, especially in an album compiled from their glorious years of overproduction?
It is all sorted out now, I fixed it up so the album files under Flaccid Rock.

Further to Three Bags Full

In a shocking development this book has been ripped from the large print mystery collection, and moved to general large print. How they allow Lillian Jackson Braun stories to remain in mystery in face of such prejudice against animal sleuths I do not know.

To prove I am not lying

Hurry, buy your copy now! Be sure to read the reviews!

Further proof that society is going to the dogs sheep

I thought I had found the crappiest title for the week this morning while shelving. I was certain of it. Who in the hell, I thought, would want to take out a book on painting flowers on stones. Why would you write, publish or read a book deovted to the art of florifying rocks? Who has the time? Do they paint them up and encircle the garden? Is someone trying to pimp out a mini stone henge? Come to think of it that last idea sounds attractive, but I digress.
Shelving that book Painting Flowers on Stones I was sure to have plunged to my weekly nadir.
Not so.
Later on this morning, irate typing fuelled by another stint of processing (*PFFFT* I am a special snowflake and I deserve something a bit better than this!) I found a new mystery series. The title I came accross was Three Bags Full : a sheep detective story. OK, I am willing to suspend my disbelief enough to suppose there is a roving shepherd by day, crime fighter by night. But I am not going to go far enough to suppose that a bloody flock of sheep, neurons going ballistic, can bring perps to justice. The note at the back of the book indicated there was also narcotic and alcohol use by the flock. I can only imagine how slow they must have been with those additional impairments. Why anyone wants to read animal detective stories I don't know. The age group these stories appeal to were not reared on Brian Jacques' biannual fluxes. Lord knows what will happen when Jacques' readers hit decrepitude. I comfort myself in the warm knowledge I will probably be dead by then or maybe I too will embrace such novels in my dotage.
It is with trepidation I take my lunch; the quality of titles has been getting worse & I fear what may strike me when I get to the bindery. May the lord have mercy on our souls.