Saturday, May 27, 2006

Russia, still a little unclear on the whole “rights” concept

Moscow’s mayor having already banned what was to be the city’s first gay pride march, the city has now also banned a planned gay conference and festival, the city’s chief of security saying that all public expression by gays must be outlawed because “they violate our rights.”

And really, what’s wrong with a dude gettin’ it on with another dude?

Military name of the day: the British chief of defense staff, Air Chief Marshal Sir Jock Stirrup.

To enliven a dull news day (and because I don’t feel like looking into why the East Timorese are killing each other), some more London Review of Books (LRB) personals. I understand there’s to be a book of these published sometime soon.
The average person contains enough iron in their body to make a small nail. Not me, I’ve got about a tent peg’s worth. Man, 57, enjoys licking railings. Box no. 10/05

Drooling, toothless sociopath (M, 57) seeks F any age to help make this abandoned petrol station kiosk feel more like home. Must bring shoes (size 10). Box no. 10/06

Justify my strop. 24/7 PMS-suffering woman seeks man to 35 prone to inadvertently saying the wrong thing (which is everything) at the wrong time (which is always). If you whistle, I will kill you. You have been warned. Chocolate (lots of it, please) to box no. 10.08

Although this is an advert that screams excitement, the man who placed it (historian, 54, enjoys air-fix modelling) is strangely subdued. Box no. 10/09

I intend to keep the precise contents of this personal ad secret. Box no. 10/10

All humans are 99.9% genetically identical, so don’t even think of ending any potential relationship begun here with ‘I just don’t think we have enough in common’. Science has long since proven that I am the man for you (41, likes to be referred to as ‘Wing Commander’ in the bedroom). Box no. 10/11

World of the Strange! LRB reader (F, then 36) places personal advert in 2001 for man to 40 who loves literature, the arts, and cycling in Italy. She receives no responses whatsoever but duly notes over the course of the next five years the number of male advertisers to 40 who enjoy literature, the arts and cycling in Italy (there were 13 of them). Is the reason they didn’t reply to her advert because they were blind to her outrageous beauty or because she lived in a house in which an old soldier had died upon returning from the Great War in 1918 and had subsequently cursed all future inhabitants, preventing them from ever being happy (this same curse also prevents inhabitants of the house from being able to make omelettes or perform basic house chores such as washing dishes and opening council tax bills)? F, now 41, believes it to be the latter and WLTM M to 45 with some knowledge of exorcism rituals, direct debits, and the best place for bulk paper plate purchases. Box no. 10/04

On 15 March, 1957, Commander J.R. Hunt of the United States Navy landed at Key West Florida in his non-rigid airship having travelled for 264 hours and 12 minutes without once refuelling. Coincidentally, that’s the same length of time I’ve spent without once making contact with a woman (apart from my mother, who doesn’t count, but who only ever asks me what I’d like for breakfast – it’s eggs, I like eggs for breakfast, poached, please, on two slices of granary bread). Is this a world record? Answers, please, to 37-year old male idiot. Box no. 08/03
Another picture from Bush’s visit to West Point, which I might as well make into a caption contest for the three of you actually looking at this blog this long weekend. What is he saying to Valedictorian Jessamyn Jade Liu? And no references to ping pong balls, please.

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