LJ's Catch of the Day- Served Fresh Daily!!

Why we have fences
sleepy, relaxing
From cbpotts:

If cows get out here, they're not going any place good. Yes, they're surprisingly adept at navigating pine-strewn, rocky woods, but they're not nearly as gifted when it comes to things like cars and highways. Dairy cows function on the presumption that everyone is Hindu; they blithely stroll down the pavement assuming everyone has a sacred duty to stop. You can imagine how well that works."

Context is quoted with permission and musing on life, fenceposts, and the unexpected.

"No one knows 'oo they were...or wot they were doin'!"
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An anonymouse over at dochermes' reflects upon the Cookery Of Their People:

...pea-soup with large amounts of a hog in it is a staple food of our family's ancient race, the Dutch, who rose as a wandering, conquering tribe of barbarians ten thousand years ago from the ruins of ancient Atlantis and Lemuria, and in the chaos following the great cataclysm became experts in international finance, painting, dam-building, cigar-making, and horrible food.

(Context has me speculating that back bacon would go pretty damn well in pea soup.)

*applies paddles to the community* LIVE, DAMMIT, LIVE!
SciFi, amused, mischievous, silly
From (who else?) ursulav, trying to get directions to a falcon's nest:

BOB: It's an overpass. You'd go under it, right? Except you don't. Don't go under it. There's a frontage road, right? You know how they love their frontage roads here in Texas. Go on for miles. Every on ramp is like a mile long. They love 'em.
URSULA: We've noticed.
BOB: But not this one. It's short. Up to the bridge. Which doesn't go anywhere.
TINA: Does it just...end...?
BOB: Sorta. Anyway, you take the frontage road and then you turn left and go over the bridge that doesn't go anywhere--
URSULA: *has horrifying visions of the rental car hurtling off a cliff with Tina yelling "DO YOU SEE A FALCON!?" as we plummet to our deaths*

Context is into hardcore bird-watching.

(no subject)
Graydon Saunders reacts to the phrase "Nuance is for hummingbirds":
Hummingbirds, that are so tiny and so optimized for living on the biological equivalent of jet fuel that they've lost the brain cell that says "remember you're not a T-rex anymore", seem a most peculiar exemplar of nuance.
Context is the nuances of love, and the nuances of honey badgers.

On the complexity of the "love the sinner, hate the sin" mentality
Boston pride
sandvich brings seriousness and then a giggle...

There are so many people in my family who say that shit and it's 'sin' is a huge part of my identity. It influences my thoughts, my experiences, my personality — if I were not gay, I would not be me. If you reject that part of my life, you're rejecting me, period. You can't just slice people into neat little pieces and pick the parts of them you like best.

Unless you're, like, Hannibal Lecter. But that's a little different.

Source: ONTD

...That'd explain Bombur's sluggishness. And appetite.
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trickofthedark has some personal headcanon regarding the gender ratio in Tolkien's works:

...The Hobbit has a severe dearth of the feminine. But I've always liked to pretend that Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Bombur are actually women dwarves. And since supposedly no one can tell the difference between male and female dwarves unless you strip them naked (the women have beards, etc.), this totally works. Also Bombur is pregnant. Seriously, the book and the film are both way better if you go in assuming this.

Context (several months old) asks that the fandom give (a polarizing movie-specific OC) a chance, dammit.

(Warning: comments may contain spoilers for The Desolation of Smaug.)

(no subject)
phoenix ezzicons/xiggy
"An Organic Greenhouse Run by Farmers With Autism"?

*classroom film sound kicks in* These young men are using autism to run their greenhouse! That's right! Scientists have recently discovered that autism can be used to power a car! You can get three times the mileage from a pound of autism than you can from a cornstalk! Autism is as essential to modern farming practice as the John Deere tractor.

Gabe immediately says "Yep, all you need is sunlight, water and a little good ol'autism. Mix it into your soil just like wormcast and horse manure."

From ksol1460 here in regards to this story.

ursulav  Is confronting mammary worries:

I do not know if I can explain what “I found a lump” is like for women in a certain age range. It is usually uttered quietly, with an attempt at matter-of-factness, it is usually followed with “it’s probably nothing” and it will stop conversation dead in its tracks. If you have good friends, they say “Tell me when you need me to drive you anywhere, I will come hold your hand, tell me what you need.” If you have bad friends…well, to hell with ‘em.

A lump is pretty much the trump card to anything that is not currently bleeding or on fire.

If Ripley had found a breast lump, she could have yelled to the Alien to give her five minutes, and it would have said “Oh, jeez, sorry, I’ll come back. Can I get you anything?”

Quoted with permission .

(no subject)
spit take
tikva's reaction to the further adventures of a certain couple of Norse Gods:

"Hell yeah, I got everything I wanted and more. Explosions? Check. Severely fucked up eye candy? Good God, check. I want to play with Thor's hair for a while, and then I want Loki to take me home and do terrible, terrible things to me. And by home, I mean Asgard, the back of a Volkswagen, wherever."

Original post locked, QWP.

The safeword is "nap."
In a locked post (QWP), rio_luna reacts to 50 Shades of Gray:
. . . to add to the shame, the book I finished was none other than "50 Shades of Gray," which is so very, very, very bad. I mean bad bad. It is absolutely mommy-porn for the mom-jeans crowd, a Harlequin romance with a safeword and leather. But I get the appeal: handsome rich guy gets a boner for you and wants to buy your affections with lavish gifts and hot sex and physical abuse. I can feel the joy of every married suburban mom who ever dealt with husbands asking "why should I feed the kids? They didn't say they were hungry, so...," or kids who makes demands all freaking day: a studly sadist who is okay with ordering more takeout, you bet. Sounds like heaven. He wants to flog me? Can I lay down during that? Knock yourself out, Mephisto.