On Christmas Day, I put up
a post that predicted the events of the first three months of 2019. Therein, Theresa May faked her own disappearance on Ben Nevis to run out the clock on a No Deal Brexit.
And the last tablet I received said “THOU SHALT NOT ACCEPT THE BACKSTOP”
For Easter 2019, I was going to have
David Bowie rise from the dead, having observed that it was his death that had set the world on a single trip to hell in a hand basket. It was gonna be great stuff.
[ So we’re doing something else? Find out what below. But first, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter .] Continue reading
Eight Tracks Two
I’m aware that the posting schedule here at apoplectic.me has been a bit erratic recently. Sorry about that.
Erratic? I’ll show ye erratic, sonny – Thom Yorke
If you’re of a mind to follow me
on the tweetie box or like and follow my writer’s page on Facebook or sign up for the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, the excuse for this will be revealed early on Thursday afternoon, Edinburgh time.
In the meantime, let’s stick to the stroke news, shall we?
Continue reading Making Everything Better
the last post here on apoplectic.me cast a pretty sneering eye over Public Health England’s Heart Age Calculator. And if you think that an eye can’t sneer, welcome to the stroke blog.
‘Aren’t you a bit young for this, sonny?’
That’s pretty much the
modus operandi around here – bitter cynicism leavened with fun. Skip down to the bottom of this post if you just want to hear some of the best Scottish pop ever.
But it turns out that this time, I wasn’t alone in my cynicism.
[ Maybe there’s actual upbeat stuff in the Apoplexy Tiny Letter – check it out] Continue reading Modus Operandi
Mrs Stroke Bloke and I have been catching up with the BBC Scotland documentary series
. Rip It Up: The History Of Scottish Pop
In a sufficiently leisurely fashion that we haven’t reached this yet:
A deathless classic, I’m sure you’ll agree.
[ For the most leisurely stroll through Scottish pop possible, check the Apoplexy Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Young At Heart
We’re at the fag-end of August, almost six years after the moment that set off the series of events that would change Mrs Stroke Bloke’s and my life forever. But no doubt we’ll get to that in due course.
For now, the Edinburgh Festival has just finished and the smell of sulphur from the massive closing fireworks display that rattled our windows last night is fading.
‘What? No, that was just me running my venue.’
[ Check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, where the devil always has the best tunes.] Continue reading Where Are We NOW?
After chatting about
shiftwork last week, I planned to spend this week talking about why we’re working longer and later hours. But then some stuff cropped up, and there’s going to have to be a change to our scheduled programming.
First, here’s LongSufferingReaderOfTheBlogPaul’s favourite track of 2018 [
], regardless. sic
Rule of thumb: That guy knows what he’s talking about would never swimmie-swim
[ Sleep patterns messed up? The Apoplexy Tiny Letter can help with that.] Continue reading Irregular Programming
Yesterday, Mrs Stroke Bloke sent me a link to what, at first, looked like an article in
I mean, seriously, right? Clumsily cut and paste Joe Biden’s head onto that, sit back, and watch the advertising dollars roll in.
Find out about the latest developments in memory science below,
and check out the Apoplexy Newsletter here.] Continue reading These Things
You’re never too old to learn. And I’m worried that I may have to cast aside one of the touchstones by which I live my live.
Not that I’ve got anything against dragons, you understand. Just everything they stand for.
[ Boycotting this post due to a love of dragons? Check out the Apoplexy Newsletter instead.] Continue reading Dragons
It occurred to me this morning that, maybe, this blog is about
. death A near death experience will do that to a person.
Or maybe, I just haven’t recovered from
watching . Or maybe Mrs Stroke Bloke and I just went a little hard on our binge watching of The Thing last week The Good Place.
Off: Middle-aged Scotsman tries to figure out how to pull off his new jam
Except of course,
The Good Place isn’t about death, really. It’s about life.
And the tsunami of famous deaths since
Bowie kicked off the craze in early 2016 just keeps rolling with the death last week of Mark E Smith of The Fall…
[ Have a wee apoplectic aperitif over at the Apoplexy Tiny Letter, or read on…] Continue reading Immortality