"Don't buy in bulk"?  Yeah, you can always buy it later WHEN IT COST MORE. |
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AND THE REST O'THE DAY T'YOURSELF!
It was a foine, soft mornin' in the Glen of Aherlow. The grass was a lovely emerald green, and the patches of heather on the sides of the Knockmealldown Mountains in the distance added a delightful splash of contrasting colour to the scene. If it were not for the rain, it would, for certain, have been a grand day altogether. As it was, for those in the Glen as well as the rest of the land, 'twas surely a day to be happy. The winter was over, the shamrocks were filling the country with the mystic message of the Holy Patrick, Himself, even though the man had long since departed this mortal coil and gone to live with the rest of the saints as well as the angels and archangels and all the company of Heaven. The month was March, the date the seventeenth, when all the world tried to be Irish, and if they failed in the attempt, they wished indeed that they were. Paidrag, whose birthday it was, looked down from among the clouds, proud that his work was done and done well. There wasn't a snake to be seen in all Ireland.
It so happened, however, that a grand wee leprechaun named Seamus was just coming from Mrs. O'Brien's public house on the road that winds through the Glen, where he had partaken of the spirits of Hennessey, Bushmills and the local potheen, washed down with a pint of good Guinness, when he was accosted by none other than Donnel, the O'Toole himself.
"Ah, Seamus," said The O'Toole. "I've caught you at last, and on Paddy's day itself," and grasping the leprechaun by the arm, led him back into the snug of Mrs. O'Brien's establishment. In due course the local squire, awakened from his sleep by the pair of them singing 'The Wearing of the Green' in magnificent, fortissimo style, called upon the local constabulary to do their duty and restore peace and order to the Glen of Aherlow.
Constable Connel O'Flynn duly made the call, and reminded Mrs. O'Brien that the licensed hours in Tipperary did not begin before noon, and that it was now only seven o'clock in the morning. Colleen O'Brien did her best to explain, and told Connel that Seamus the leprechaun and the O'Toole himself were two famous Irish tenors on tour, and as travellers, permitted certain dispensations, according to the Holy Father himself. Constable O'Flynn politely pointed out that the O'Toole was hardly a traveller, being a resident of the village of Kilshane a mere half a country mile from the pub, and the leprechaun was well known to reside in a wee cottage in the Glen itself. Sadly accepting the logic of the constable's argument, Colleen announced , "Last call!" and served a final pint of Harp Lager to Seamus, Donnel O'Toole and naturally one for Constable Connel himself. Mrs. O'Brien had a wee nip of The Glenlivet for herself.
In due course, their drinks finished, Seamus and O'Toole took their leave, while Connel O'Flynn remained behind to take care of Colleen O'Brien's behind by giving the pretty lady a grand spanking on her fine bare ass for serving outside legal hours. They both enjoyed it thoroughly, and had another drink after.
Meanwhile, out on the roadway, The O'Toole asked, "Seamus, I did catch you coming out of the pub, didn't I?"
"That you did, Donnel."
"Is it true what they say about leprechauns when you catch them?"
"Aye, it is that, Donnel. Come away to my place and we'll have a look in the pot, and there should be some gold for you." Arm in arm they staggered down the road to Seamus' cottage, singing 'The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls,' almost in tune. Some distance away at Kilshane, the squire rolled over in his bed, groaned, and covered his ears with his pillow.
On reaching the cottage, Seamus led The O'Toole around to the back, to a wee space between the chicken coop and the pig pen where there was what looked like a very small hay stack. Seamus pulled some of the hay out of the way, revealing a large black pot. "Here we are, Donnel! Gold! Liquid gold, a wee dram for you and another for myself." Seamus raised the lid, and was horrified to see that the pot was empty!
At that very moment, they heard a sneeze. It was none other than Elora, Seamus' lovely callypigian companion with the gorgeous red hair, sparkling green eyes and mischievous grin.
"Sure and faith, Donnel, the lass has done it again!"
"Done what again, Seamus?"
"She's taken The Glenlivet!"
"May all the saints above, especially Holy Patrick Himself, have mercy upon us." The O'Toole was always correct in his devotions.
"Amen!" said Seamus, seating himself on the step of the stile that goes over the fence around the chicken coop. "Over my lap, Mavourneen," he said to Elora, who complied at once, lifting her skirts as she did so.
Seamus was pleased to see that the colleen was properly dressed for the holy day, the usual pale blue panties having been replaced for the occasion by a lovely green pair.
While Donnel O'Toole, licking his lips, watched, Seamus patted the two green mounds, then because this was a private moment, asked his friend to close his eyes for a few minutes. Down came the panties, and Seamus, after admiring the glorious view and stroking the tender softness, gave Elora a nice spanking.
When the spanking was over, Donnel was told he could open his eyes, and Elora went to the basket she had been carrying to where the pot was hidden, and produced from it a beautiful green bottle. Its contents may have come from just across the water in Banffshire, but at least the bottle was suited to Patrick's isle.
The three of them had a grand time since Elora, still rubbing her spanked bottom appreciatively, had also brought three cut glass tumblers of Waterford crystal. These served admirably, and when it was time for the pub to be opened legally by Mrs. O'Brien, the Glenlivet bottle being emptied, Donnel O'Toole betook himself there, while Seamus took Elora across his lap once again. Surely it was her fault that the bottle was empty?
As The O'Toole took his leave, they all exchanged the correct greetings for St. Patrick's day, and with a wave to Elora and Seamus, Donnel said, "And the top o'the morning to you both."
Together, just as the pretty green panties were lowered again, Seamus and lovely Elora said in chorus, "And the rest of the day to yourself." Happy St. Patrick's Day!
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Broke Oligarch https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2022-03-17/broke-russian-oligarch-fridman-says-sanctioned-billionaires-can-t-sway-putinFridman, 57, was born and raised in the Soviet Union in the western Ukrainian city of Lviv. He was a first-wave oligarch, making a fortune in banking and energy before Putin’s rise to power. His parents are Ukrainian citizens who until recently lived part of the year in an apartment in Lviv.
Fridman was worth about $14 billion before the war, according to Bloomberg. He’s now worth about $10 billion on paper and is in the strange position of being an oligarch with essentially no cash. When the U.K. followed the EU and sanctioned Fridman on March 15, his last working bank card in the U.K. was frozen. He tells me he now must apply for a license to spend money, and the British government will determine if any request is “reasonable.” It appears that this will mean an allowance of roughly £2,500 a month. He’s exasperated, but careful not to compare his woes with those of Ukrainians suffering from the war. “My problems are really nothing compared with their problems,” he says.
Even though the U.S. has not sanctioned Fridman, the EU and U.K. measures led his accounts to be frozen; the day after Brussels announced sanctions, he found his bank card didn’t work. Now he’s trying to figure out how to pay for small things such as a house cleaner. “Maybe I should clean the house myself,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “That’s fine. I used to live in a small dormitory room with four men when I was a student, but after 35 years it’s unexpected.” Fridman says he has two months to challenge the EU’s sanctions. Fridman holds an Israeli passport, but when I ask whether he might move to Israel, he waves off the idea. He doesn’t own a home there and doesn’t have access to money to buy one. “I’m a prisoner here,” he says.
Just before we met, he says, he got a call from a Ukrainian friend who was helping relatives flee Kharkiv. Fridman says he offered his parents’ two-bedroom apartment in Lviv, which has so far avoided direct Russian hits. He says the flat is now a temporary home for 15 refugees.
A few days after our meeting, the U.K. sanctioned Fridman, and this time he calls me, with no obvious reason except to say that things are getting worse. He sounds at a loss. “I don’t know how to live,” he tells me. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” |
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Could we NOT fall back to 39 this time?!
Damn it!
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I experimented a little bit, and the answer is 169 weeks (3.25 years).  It's at $22780 right now, and rising about $30 a day. |
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Isn't the below article indicating exactly what Putin / Russia's government wants to resolve all this and Ukraine admitting that is how things can go and would be acceptable? (No NATO, talk about the two independent regions and Crimea) Bit strange this has gone unnoticed in the main headlines today. Though, maybe it is exactly not strange I guess. Too many people benefiting from that fire.  In nod to Russia, Ukraine says no longer insisting on NATO membershiphttps://uk.yahoo.com/news/nod-russia-ukraine-says-no-165955908.htmlTwo years from now:  |
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And we're back at 45, nice!  |
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Observing small pumps in WO thread...
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Reposting again... Reposting old stuff...  soon... |
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What I fear is eventually the powers that be will figure out that possibly their very best chance against Bitcoin is not a CDBC, but rather Ethereum. And this is one of the reasons the vest asshole, and the idiot xxx.eth people are so annoying. Because they are too greedy, or stupid respectively to recognize that what they are doing it propping up the best chance the old system has to save themselves.
It is my hope that TPTB waste another 10 years trying to push their CDBC experiment. I think we will see that fail in a GLORIOUS fashion. In fact, I think their efforts in this will likely add so much game theoretical gasoline to the Bitcoin fire that, though it might be a rocky decade in some ways, one of the missteps they could make and are likely to.
I would rather my hyper bullish "bear trap" announcements were more accurate... (we are still in a bear trap! lol... it's just really big, and is catching bulls instead for some reason!) But they are starting to notice what makes the garbage unique, I think...  Oh, and by the way, I am beginning to believe the WEF might just be the most evil organization humanity has produced. Or correctly, a part of it, as the kraken has a lot of tentacles. And no, I am not being hyperbolic. I noticed a while ago they started talking more about "climate justice" instead of "climate change", I wonder what that means... |
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New bottom is 34000 FFS  |
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In my bitter experience I can say that one big crash is immediately followed by another so I expect support at 28/31к.
The real support is the number of pages in WO. Confirmed it last summer when we dipped to 28600. |
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In recent times, it has been coming more obvious that there is something considerably wrong with that marine animals scale
Since it considers someone with 55 BTC a "small fish", no shit something's wrong with it.  |
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But I will be uninstalling Firefox for sure. Not sure what that accomplishes.
Google is 1000x more evil. Just sayin' |
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Well this is what Americans supposedly voted for.
To be fair, some of this started under Trump and the unmeasured reaction to the coof (which that was part of) hasn't helped. But yes, those who gave votes to Biden should have known this was on the cards. Given the choice of the lesser of two evils in not really a choice. That's how they get you! The most evil thing is that electoral system is designed with 2 candidates in mind. It breaks when there are 3 candidates: if neither of the 3 gets over 50% threshold, then neither of them becomes President. Crazy stuff haha. |
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