Ah, So That’s Where The Fat Went! » The Digital Cuttlefish

The fatberg is one of the most interesting (and disgusting) news items of recent months. The Digital Cuttlefish has written a great little poem about it.

A rack of ribs; a leg of lamb;

A turkey roast; a marbled ham;

We used to cut the fat off, just to eat it!

The drippings from the roasting pan

We use for gravy, quite by plan—

For flavor, you can’t beat it.

via Ah, So That’s Where The Fat Went! » The Digital Cuttlefish.

Click through to read the rest. I love his poetry.

I want to shoot myself in the head | The Dogs Blogs

So, I was on That Doctor Who Live tonight and I totally dicked it up.So, due to the #twittersilence thing, I didn’t want to come to you all and apologise, but it’s past midnight now, so here it is.

via I want to shoot myself in the head | The Dogs Blogs.

Rufus Hound explains his utter embarrassment at cocking up his Who facts live to the nation last night. Great to see he’s a big fan.

Peter Capaldi is a great choice too.

How to make everybody on the internet behave | Bigmouth Strikes Again

The always amusing Gary Marshall has resurrected a nicely pertinent article that explains why some people can’t help being total arseholes on the Internet:

How to make everybody on the internet behave | Bigmouth Strikes Again.

He uses a driving analogy to explain why this is so:

What these various offenders have in common is that they can’t hear me or see me – and that gives me a licence to be utterly unpleasant, just like everyone else on the roads. It’s why people block box junctions, or cut you up, or drive at 200mph through primary school playgrounds. They’re not bad people; they’re just not sharing the world with the rest of us. Brits are particularly bad for it, because we’re so buttoned-up the rest of the time.

There’s a proper scientific term for this: disinhibition. In his book Traffic, Tom Vanderbilt explains that while we’re forced to interact with others on the roads we don’t – can’t – communicate with them, so we become overgrown toddlers, interested only in ourselves and reduced to eye-popping, throat-shredding, nappy-filling fury at the slightest frustration.

It makes sense, and explains how seemingly normal, pleasant people can say such horrible things on Twitter

The Big Idea: Chris Kluwe

Us Brits tend not to follow American Football that much, but I used to love it back in the day. I decided to make the 49ers my team back when the Bears were winning everything and I even went to a few of the Heineken League games in the UK  – even going to the very first Leeds Cougars game.

I don’t follow it much these days days, and have no idea who’s popular/big over in the States. Is Dan Marino still playing? I have no idea. Still, it was a real surprise to read this little piece over on Scalzi’s Whatever blog:

The Big Idea: Chris Kluwe.

I want to live in a world where people are celebrated for their differences, for their complexity, for their uniqueness, for the widely varied things that make them who they are. I want to live in a world that realizes your job does not define you as a person. I want to live in a world where I can be a football player, a video game nerd, a sci-fi/fantasy geek, an author, a husband and father and brother – all at the same time, because that’s who I am.

Above all, I want to live in a world where people are empathetic enough to understand that we’re not all going to be the same (and that’s okay!), but the only way I have the freedom to live my own life is if everyone else enjoys that same freedom in return. I am not a label, I am a multifaceted creature, just like all the other human beings on this planet, and we all deserve the recognition and ability to make our own choices in life.

What a remarkable fella. Completely smashes the stereotype of the musclehead jock.

Bi-Polar Lives: My Dad & Stephen Fry

Originally posted on Sadie Hasler:

Last week, in a podcast with lovely comedian Richard Herring, Stephen Fry felt comfortable enough to speak with further candour about his ‘bi-polar life’. Confessing that he had only last year attempted suicide, he went a little further than he has previously done, giving us another intimate instalment of his condition – a duty he takes seriously as the president of charity Mind. It was shocking to hear of such an act, but perhaps more so of such recency; you always naively hope, despite his frankness about his lows, that he has conquered the demons since his famous breakdown of 1995, which saw him walking out of a West-End play to sail for Belgium, (as good a place for dark thoughts as any).

It is something I remember vaguely from the news while I was staying at my Dad’s bungalow in North Wales. I naturally thought it was sad, but…

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