Perhaps Pandas Need Friko's Help...

As this photo suggests...
plus the following article I read online recently. I quote...

Breakthroughs in captive panda breeding herald new hopes for wild populations. Researchers employed methods ranging from sex education videos to Viagra in order to stimulate natural behaviour.
Rare interactions between aroused pairs often ended in disappointment, however. Male pandas have proportionately short penises meaning pairs must adopt a very exact position in order to mate. During their observations, researchers found that pandas demonstrated poor knowledge of this position.Most techniques failed, and many encounters between pandas turned aggressive and violent.Scientists therefore had to rely upon artificial insemination, but their efforts were again subject to the pandas' peculiar reproductive cycle.Panda pregnancies can last anything from 11 weeks to 11 months and can remain undetected until shortly before birth.

Who deleted my cattle in the field post?

Where did it go?

I am seriously cross with whoever did that, and would like an explanation, please.
Actually, I wasn't aware that anyone else has the means to do that.

Sorry Jinksy,  for bringing the comments on your post  to an untimely end.

No Reason Or Rhyme

by jinksy

Other than to wake somebody up...anybody?

Divorce 19th Century Style

A remarkable superstition still prevails among the lowest of our Vulgar, that a man may lawfully sell his wife to another, provided he delivers her over with a halter about her neck.


Brand - Observations of Popular Antiquities 1813




They came into the market between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning, the woman being led by a halter which was fastened round her neck and the middle of her body. In a few minutes after their arrival she was sold to a man of the name of Thomas Snape, a nailer of Burntwood. The purchase money was 2s 6d, and all the parties seemed satisfied with the bargain. The husband was glad to get rid of his frail rib, who, it seems, had been living with Snape for three years.


The Wolverhampton Chronicle 1837

ANNOUNCEMENT

Doctor FTSE has just been honoured by Carolina joining his Very Silly Blog as his 99th follower.

On yer marks!


Get Set!  


GO!


(The position was filled, folks, within minutes! HEHEHE!)

The Evolution of Language

I just received a thank you card from a (well brought up) young woman who lives in Santa Cruz. In her note she excused herself for being "Skater-brained". Whether or not this was a spelling error, I found it a brilliant modern, surfer dude take on scatter-brained. This one's a keeper.

This England

Blowing Hot and Cold

How can the French expect to attract our tourist trade? This year, at five different French hotels, the tap marked 'C' turned out to be 'H'.


Letter in Evening Chronicle 


(This England, when it still cost two shillings and sixpence)

Serious Fridge Voyeurs should look HERE . . .

What IS the deal with Montreal truckers?

Wednesday. 4:30pm arrives (that's 16:30 for the Europeans among us) and I leave the office. I get into my little tiny maroon Mazda and creep out of the village and onto the interstate highway. I check my rearview mirrors and see that the traffic behind me is moving over; I will be able to enter the traveling lane without getting squashed.
So far, so good.
I accelerate to the speed limit and set my cruise control.
There, suddenly beside me, is a monolith of a tractor-trailer. It seems to be traveling at nearly the same speed as I. It is only a two-lane highway. I feel a little crowded, with him there just next to me, the trailer's tall wall-like side towering over my little sedan, blocking out the daylight. Usually, traffic, particularly of the large heavy truck variety, sails on by.
Ah, he's moving ahead a little now. Good.
The end of the trailer is a mere ten feet ahead of me when I see the directional signal come on. He's moving back into my lane with bare inches to spare. If he touches his brake pedal or if some mischance lessens the distance between us by a few inches, I'll be right underneath his axle.
Cruise control: off!
I fall back a little to give him plenty of room, thinking: Gotta be a Montrealer.
Et voila! Je suis correct! Le nom de la société sur la cabine du camion est canadien, basé à Montréal.

Quel surprise...

Husband used to travel to Montreal every week. He came home with tales of traveling on St. Hyacinthe highway: everyone traveling at eighty-five miles per hour, and all six inches apart.
Those guys need to understand that here, there's LOTS OF ROOM.
No NEED to nestle up against any available vehicle.
Maybe they just don't *get* the concept of adequate personal space for vehicles.

The article that accompanies the photo above includes this line: "Provincial police are still trying to determine what caused the 16-metre trailer to flip." 
Well, hell! I can tell 'em. 
The guy was traveling at a ridiculous rate of speed, four inches from every other moving or stationary object. Case closed.

Beat The Jam

Ten past eight this morning , and cars blocked the road into town . As I cycled west , a smartly dressed middle aged man with horn rim specs and a briefcase whizzed east on the opposite bike lane ..... on a skateboard .

Don't Look!

Hey, big boy!

Interesting!

Voyeur!

What do you want, should I not go for walks any more? Leave my camera at home, maybe?  Or would you want me to waste these snaps?

Anyone For Tennis?

Lottie Dod

1871-1960

In the Special Sporting Edition of Lilliput of June 1950,  Denzil Batchelor wrote:

She is the greatest English all-rounder her sex has produced up to now. She began her career of pre-eminence in several sports by winning the Wimbledon singles in 1887 at the age of fifteen. She went on to win the title five times before retiring unbeaten in 1893. Next she turned to golf, at which she played in international matches and won the national championships in 1904. There was also hockey; she twice played for England against Ireland. She was also in the first flight as an archer, as well as being one of the most accomplished skaters of her day.

Well done, Lottie.

PS: Does that mean Victorian ladies had legs ?

A Lament....

I'm so tired;
I'm so sore.
Ain't gonna do it for a nickel no more.
Fifteen cents is now my price.
Gimme a quarter and I'll do it twice.



Shine, mister?