José M Camarero@ABC: En principio, la mayoría no pensaba que lo que ardía era precisamente un avión incendiado… Pero fue la caravana de ambulancias que pasaba por delante de sus casas, en la autovía M-14, la que les puso en alerta. «Esto me huele mal», llegó a decir Manuel a su mujer. «Aquí ha pasado…
People tell me that emission reporting is routinely fiddled in Barcelona, as is monitoring by local authorities, and the true location of Spanish polluters–crucial for studying health effects–seems to be vague at best, but this (quite old) collection for GE gives us a handy way of discovering interesting stuff like, oh, the Gonvarri metal treatment…
“I have in my mind the most masterly farts which, however, would be impossible to reproduce.” The farting policeman explains nevertheless how to perform the “Imperial”, the “Terminator” and the “Saturday Night”, which may or may not refer to the comparable artistic frustrations no doubt suffered by the admirable Mr Travolta.
The papers are running their usual “worst weather ever” stories, but 163 years ago here massive floods signalled an end to a period of abnormal cold–snow lay on the land around town–and a Norwegian brig was lost in storms at the mouth of the Llobregat.
Over at Michael Gilleland’s place. I am laid low by village water, which comes out of the hill unpurified, which is fine, but which ravages stomachs lacking the correct ecology of flora and fauna, which is tough on me and even tougher on the porcelain. Beware the great god Fart under such circumstances.
Thanks to MM (with a little help from BB) for news of the English musician who used to play bugle calls on his rifle using a mouthpiece inserted into the barrel. The photograph recalls the following Spanish joke: Two hippies from Gracia are shrooming in the woods when they find a shotgun. “Hey man, get…
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