Monday, July 30, 2007

Today in Extraordinarily Odd

A little while ago, a strange and mysterious beast that looked like a cross between a dog and a boar but with blue fur was lurking in the hills of Maine and everyone had a good freak out and then it was killed and the photos made it look horrific. Of course, it wasn’t actually horrific, it was just slightly weird as far as genetics go. Well, now the same kind of thing is reported to be happening in Dartmoor, UK. In the images printed in the UK’s Daily Mail, it looks like a dark blue furred miniature elephant, if you’re not wearing glasses. Oh, who am I kidding, it could be anything, it looks like a blur of beast. Hilariously the article included the description of a local person:
It was black and grey and comparable in size to a miniature pony. It had very thick shoulders, a long, thick tail with a blunt end and small round ears.
"Its movements appeared feline, then bear-like sprang to mind.”
The person who said this was Falconer Martin Whitley. He was a falconer. A Falconer indeed!
This is also an interesting story because it is set in the place that inspired Doyle to write The Hound of the Baskervilles. Which means that all myths are entirely historically accurate and the Apocalypse is upon us. Immediately. [source]

Seeing as they’re apparently waist deep in Panda dung, let’s call it dung – poop sounds so infantile – the Chengdu Panda Breeding Base in Beijing has started to come up with ways to process the dung and they’ve naturally gravitated towards making it into picture frames, key rings and other pleasantries that can be kept in the house. Like, on doilies etc. (the doilies obviously catch any kind of emanating fluid months later or after the object d’art has been sitting in the sun etc.). Of course, as it’s in Beijing, the Olympics committee have managed to squeeze in a few Olympic themed panda crap based souvenirs which is good and clean of them. Clean. [source]

Fans of Scotland’s worst poet William McGonagall, who, according to this report had to walk around with an umbrella to guard from being pelted with rotten tomatoes at all hours of the day and night (yes, people would carry a bucket of rotting tomatoes at all times in old time Scotland just in case they saw him. How self indulgent of him to propagate that myth) are still campaigning for his entry into the canon of Scottish literary figures. What’s notable about this article is that it seems to appear for no apparent timely reason. Also, it’s interesting that people in Scotland have fixated enough to know who the nation’s worst poet actually is. As though it were something that could be ascertained. [source]

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