Diablevert

It's saying this kind of thing that makes me a disappointment to my mother

So the other day I was wathing a little TV and there was a special about this priest, well-known figure in Ireland for many years, had a show on RTE, sang showtunes, MC'd the Pope's visit in '79, etc. Father Michael Cleary. He died in 1993, and it comes out after he died that he had two kids with his housekeeper. He forced her to give up the first son for adoption, but when the second came along she demanded to keep the baby. She and the kid lived with him, and everyone maintained the polite fiction. And the special was all about this. This show was the fisrt time the younger son had spoken publically about the thing, though the mother had written a tell-all a couple years after the priest died. It was interesting, you know. The scandal was one of several that emerged in the early 90s that were nails in the coffin of Church dominence in Ireland.

But that wasn't really why I watched it.

I watched it for the son. He was smokin'. In addition to be articulate and charismatic and so foth. Came off really well. And he was really, really hot. In the clips from '93, he was a teenager, and had that sort of floppy-haired, slit-eyed, slightly greasy look of a young Leonardo di Caprio, or maybe an errant Backtreet Boy. But he filled out and cleaned up nice in the years since. In fact, he inspired me to a new definition of hotness.

He was priest's bastard hot.

Nicknames of Dublin Landmarks

A short list. As found in the book That's Ireland this afternoon at the library:

1. The Dick with the Stick --- James Joyce, Earl Street View image

2. The Fag on the Crag --- Oscar Wilde, Merrion Sq. View image

3. The Floozy in the Jacuzzi (View image)--- Anna Livia, formerly of O'Connell Street [1] View image

4. The Stiletto in the Ghetto (View image)--- The Spire, O'Connell St. [2] View image

5. The Flue with the View --- Smithfield Chimney Stack, Smithfield View image

6. The Hags with the Bags --- "Two Women" northside quays by the Ha'penny Bridge View image

7. The Tart with the Cart --- Molly Malone, Grafton Street View image

Delightful. More here.

[1] Anna Livia was moved several years ago to make way for The Spire. They haven't found a replacement site yet.
[2] The work has inspired seveal nicknames, and the parody song "I Can See Cleary's Now the Crane Has Gone."

Did I tell y'all...

…that my phone died and it’s in the shop for repairs? Because that’s the case. I’ll have it back in a week or so. It blows, but there’s not much I can do. Unless one of y’all has an old phone you want to lend me? And, you know, lives in Dublin?

Blue death

Hee hee hee hee hee. Hee hee hee hee hee.

The short film pulls no punches. It opens with the Smurfs dancing, hand-in-hand, around a campfire and singing the Smurf song. Bluebirds flutter past and rabbits gambol around their familiar village of mushroom- shaped houses until, without warning, bombs begin to rain from the sky.

Tiny Smurfs scatter and run in vain from the whistling bombs, before being felled by blast waves and fiery explosions. The final scene shows a scorched and tattered Baby Smurf sobbing inconsolably, surrounded by prone Smurfs.

Oh, I am so wrong. There is clearly something wrong with me. But….hee hee hee hee hee. Snicker

The Effects You Can Achieve with Natural Lighting

Pint awaiting its owner, Hogan's

Oh, for Chrissakes. That's just ridiculous.

Did I Mention...

...how my computer went "phoombph" and that's why my postings have been so sparse lately? Well, that's what's up. I can only post when I get into an internet cafe, so it may be few and far between, these golden nuggets of...stream of consciousness ranmbling, mostly.

Finucane, you devil

"How long have you been driving the cab?"

"Oh, just under five years, Marian."

"In you opinion as a social commentator, how is it now with women and the deamon drink?"

....and while that brief snatch of dialogue from the Marian Finucane show this morning sort of stands on its own, I would like to add that the discussion of a recent study on young women and binge drinking was a feast of junk science that offered many people, not just the cabbie, the opportunity to spout some of the most repellent sexist bullshit I've heard in my life. My favorite was when one of the commenters --- no, excuse me, I think two of them seperately mentioned this --- said that when you saw these young women ending up in Accident and Emergency at the end of the night, a vomit- and pissed-stained wreck, what was just so sad about it was thinking about how long they had spent making themselves pretty to go out. Because, you know, girls are suppossed to be pretty and delicate, because that will make boys like them, and making boys like them is the whole point of their exisitence. Can't catch a fella with piss stains on your shoes, gals. Also, regularly driniking to the point of unconsciouness might maybe indicate you have a wee case of liver- and life-destroying alcoholism, but. I mean, it's one thing to think of the risks to their health and lives and all that, but when you think of how hard they work to be pretty, and then to get all uglied up like that...I mean, that's tragic. Jesus. I wanted to call the radio station and rant, but the line was busy. I also thought about grabbing a pint and delivering my rant to a sypathetic publician, but I after hearing that I was a little afraid he wouldn't serve me one, it being Nineteen-Goddamn-Fifty-Three and all. And trying to drown your sorrows in thimbles of sherry just takes too damn long...