Hunted this morning. Four or five hours in beautiful woods and swamps, busting brush, and one fine grouse in the bag. Not bad. We only put up three birds, but who cares? Thanks to my friend who lets me hunt his land with its old orchards, tangles, raspberry brambles, and streams. We saw no Woodcock, alas, because I know how to make a killer Woodcock hors d'oeuvre on toast, using its sauteed guts and liver with a bit of wine, garlic, and butter as a sauce for the tiny legs and breasts.
On the right to give offence, at Thompson
Thoughts about Conservatives and Climate Change. Tigerhawk.
Who is blogging, and why? Is the blogosphere in a digestion phase? h/t, Flares. Lots of interesting data on blogs and blogging. Would somebody please remind me why we do this?
Is Belgium a nation? Not really.
Department of Irony. I guess it isn't working very well. Samizdata would like this one.
Yum. Traditional Christmas Pudding.
Driscoll's Quote of the Day:
"The plain truth is that if guys like DiCaprio, Clooney and Robert Redford, were women, they’d be called bimbos."