Writing about last week, inevitably I forgot to write about something or other. Lāesprit de lāescalier, sort of.
Writing about the industrial designer Sir Jony Ive, who had been in the news, John Gruber wrote:
Fuck this āsirā shit. We donāt have titles in the United States.
āFuck all cultures that arenāt like oursā is such a quintessentially American trope, to the point where even @gruber is only 2 steps removed from chanting āUSAā and crushing a Budweiser can on his forehead.
PS. Jony Ive, the person with the title, is from the United Kingdom.
Which rankled a bit, because not everyone in this kingdom is all deferential and obsessed with orders of chivalry and stuff, you know. Some people turn down honours. Sir Jony is a āKnight Commander or the Most Excellent Order of the British Empireā ā the nonexistent British Empire. So I donāt say āfuck this āfuck this āsirā shitā shitā.
Some weeks have passed since the first fly of the summer. I have been successful in squashing, with my bare hands, a lot of them so far this year ā am I getting quicker, or are the flies getting dopier?
On Sunday, some happy time was spent passenging on some classic/heritage/vintage buses and coaches. Only three ā if only Iād woken earlier and braved the damp conditions on the Saturday as well ā but ĀÆ\_(ć)_/ĀÆ. Reassuringly, all were older than me, although one came close.