Sunday, April 22, 2007

Sunday Morning

It's Sunday Morning (masterpiece) and I lack focus. I am, like Frank O'Hara on the day Billie Holiday died (lovely, lovely poem), going to sleep with quandariness. I shall, therefore, make no decisions and blog on every possible blog subject. Canoes: you may recall the man hat debate began with my purchase of a kayak. Subsequently, a friend who knows boats drew my attention to this site. The kayak has to go; I have to have a Molitor, a boat of rare beauty. This, it has been claimed, is the best beer ad in the world; it seems to be for one of the worst beers. And this, meanwhile, is said to be the worst web page, indisputable I would have thought. Social networking sites are taking over from porn, though I don't think the distinction between the two is clear cut. I am uneasy about returning the Elgin Marbles to Greece, but not half as uneasy as I am about dingbat libertarians. If there is an easier, more comfortable belief system in the world, I have yet to find it. But then it's Sunday and I may be wrong; I never could get the hang of Sundays.


  1. For me Sunday Morning has always been Spanky & Our Gang. As trivial as it sounds it has a message about something that seems to have got lost of late. Sunday is a day, not for shopping, but for spending time with the person who is closest to you - doing basically not a lot.

  2. my flash media player doesn't appear to be functioning so I couldn't appreciate the best beer ad in the world. all I got was some still out of The Sun's Ask Diedre problem page and a joke that's even older.

    shame about American beer but I believe the must know how to brew a decent pint to have avoiding doing so so successfully all this time. (yes, it's old gag time, folks).

    what's wrong with that page? it's got links and moving graphics, hasn't it? the worst page I've come across is the Google Error 404 - shame on them! You'd think they'd include a random image or profound quotation, you know, something to alleviate the annoyance of finding yourself down a surfing dead-end.

    ah yes, dogging sites - the new black.