After a lot of argy-bargy, as the English say, I’ve managed to transfer this blog from one host to another, the change brought about by the high price of web space on your fancier servers. The switch was supposed to be automatic but nothing is, of course – generally, these days, I’m ready to go back to tin cans and a string. But I’m here, I’m back, and I’m hoping that this strained, hallucinatory, over-hot Anno 2012 will continue to provide me with outburst material for rainy days. I swore off “politics” when Bush Jr. left office, and I’m not easily outraged. I’m actually sweet, fond of animals and old ladies. Sometimes, still, the news exceeds my generosity, as it did today with this:
Women could delay the menopause indefinitely with ovary transplants
Just what we need, right? More children.
And this, from yesterday:
The family with £50,000 of breast implants and the daughter saying no to silicon
I smell a “reality” series.
And this:
Poor Land in Jail as Companies Add Huge Fees for Probation
“The big thieves hang the little ones.” — Czech proverb
And this:
Israel stages Holocaust survivor beauty pageant
So there’s no want of amazement in the commonwealth. I might even look for something uplifting to report from time to time, if the situation warrants.
Right now I’m obsessed with Scandinavian crime fiction – “Nordic Noir” – devouring whole shelves of Wallanders, Inspector Becks, Rejseholdets and Maria Werns. There’s something consoling about all that mayhem when it happens in Denmark or Sweden – a head in the toilet or a severed foot roasting on a spit with the chickens in a Stockholm kebab shop. The filmed versions of these books are almost invariably as good as the originals, too, and thankfully there’s a slew of them. I’ll be busy saying “Tak!”, “Satan!” and “Jag är jävligt trot!” (“I’m really fucking tired!”) until Christmas, at least. Stay tuned.