Writing about last week, inevitably I forgot to write about something or other. L’esprit de l’escalier, sort of.
Writing about the industrial designer Sir Jony Ive, who had been in the news, John Gruber wrote:
Fuck this “sir” shit. We don’t have titles in the United States.
John O’Nolan wrote:
“Fuck all cultures that aren’t like ours” is such a quintessentially American trope, to the point where even @gruber is only 2 steps removed from chanting “USA” 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 “Knight Commander or the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire” – the nonexistent British Empire. So I don’t say “fuck this ‘fuck this “sir” shit’ shit”.
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 – 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 – if only I’d woken earlier and braved the damp conditions on the Saturday as well – but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Reassuringly, all were older than me, although one came close.